Chapter Text
“Then… I suppose all that changes, really, is how and when we see it?”
“Hm?”
“Your first question, from before. If you’re on the cliff, you see the ball fall and don’t know where it goes unless you take a look. It might have floated, it might have just broken mid-air. If you’re under the cliff when it does, all you see is the impact it makes on the ground. Both are irreversible and true. It falls and floats depending on how and when you see it.”
“Barely made it,” Dehya groaned as she yanked off her boots. “These sandstorms are hell on my hair.”
“Which is why I’ve told you to wear a cloak, at the very least.”
“Then make me one! Make it fashionable, eh?”
Sethos nodded at Dehya’s conversation partner as he finally got the last of the sand off his feet. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
“No worries, Sethos. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Oh, introductions,” Dehya said, pulling away from the doorway. She hobbled in and gestured to their gracious host. “This is Candace, guardian of Aaru Village. You may have heard about her. Oh, and Setaria’s here too. Somewhere.
“I’ll be with you in a minute!” Someone— Setaria— shouted from somewhere deeper into the house.
Sethos took his scarf off his head as he took the seat Candace led him to, looking around the house.
The layout was familiar. He’d never been anywhere near Aaru Village, much less any of its residents or homes. But he’d seen some of these trinkets and vases hanging around in a few of the archivist’s rooms in the Temple. Quite unlike the greenish hues of Sumeru City, much more familiar, much warmer.
Like he was finally home.
Candace walked up to them, pouring water into a cup Dehya extended out to her as she took her seat opposite Sethos.
Sethos looked up at her, a little startled by the different colored eyes he found and the familiar eye by the circlet on her head. He’d seen it from afar, when Dehya had dragged him over after they arrived from Ribat, but seeing it up close…
A symbol of Ahmar’s guardians, just laying on her head like that.
Cyno wore it every day as part of his regalia, his uniform as General Mahamatra, but he’d only known it as a symbol Hermanubis revered, one he’d seen in flashes of dreams and visions.
Candace wore it like a ward, like a sign of protection.
The guardian of Aaru Village.
She knew its origins, its meanings.
Candace met his gaze, smiling gently down. “Water?”
He blinked, then smiled back, face warming at having been caught staring. “Uh, yeah, thanks. That’d be nice.”
“Look at you, all shy,” teased Dehya. “It really is no wonder I never figured out you were such a bigwig.”
Candace hummed, as she committed to her task. “I’ve heard tell of Hermanubis’ glory,” she started, startling Sethos a bit. “Cyno once told me he knew nothing about his heritage or the spirit indwelling. So, I didn’t tell him about the rumors. I suppose you had its other half?”
Right.
Cyno.
And, well, the letters they’d been sending from the Akademiya was probably a dead giveaway.
He nodded. “More or less. Have you heard of the Temple of Silence, Miss Candace?”
“Hm… Not by that name, I don’t think.”
“I haven’t,” Dehya said, leaning forward.
Sethos looked over at her.
She scratched at her cheek, “Sorry, I was never really reverent growing up.”
He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. Just… I don’t have his glory anymore. That’s all Cyno’s now. What I did inherit was his teaching, his path. More importantly, what I couldn’t tell you earlier, Dehya, was—”
Three full circuits around the House of Daena and he thought well, maybe he was getting more and more familiar with the book sections here. They were divided by Darshan, then separated by discipline. But the scholars occupying the tables had no issue intermingling, which meant that picking out books and putting the piles back into the recollection areas actually did require a whole circuit.
Sethos could see himself doing work here, if he managed to convince the conservator to ease up.
“… Okay, but are we sure this specific line of inquiry will be relevant for an entry level course?”
“That’s why I’m asking you, dear.”
“And you’re sure we can’t consult the introductory content we have here?”
“Those introductory books still have content that need a prerequisite. They’re not actually entry-level.”
Upon closer inspection of the source of this loud discussion, he found not one but two familiar faces. One was Madam Faruzan, slumped in her seat and looking ready to give in. The other was… Alhaitham’s roommate? Sethos has seen him in passing since that night, but he didn’t think the guy remembered them ever encountering each other.
Roomie (thus Sethos dubbed him) leaned over the table and picked up a book. “Are we sure those students aren’t going to at least know basic texts and literature? I’m telling you, We don’t really have the luxury of filling that space up with books. Every space needs to be occupied by students and lecturers. The library is almost finished, but filling it won’t be up to us, that’ll be on the people running it, the conservators and archivists they’ll keep there.”
“I know, but can’t we expect instructors to bring the material in? Maybe… make copies?”
“You’ll have to consult for the budget on that. Not even their original building has the space for this.”
Faruzan leaned her head against a hand, one leg over the other.
Finding the chance in the lull in their conversation, Sethos approached. “Excuse me but, will you two be needing these books or should I put them back in for recollection?”
Roomie looked up, then plastered on a smile. “Oh! I didn’t know the conservator got an apprentice.”
Sethos shook his head. “Nope. Not an apprentice. Just helping around.”
Faruzan muttered something from where she sat behind Roomie. Then, she leaned back and locked eyes with Sethos.
“Sethos!”
“Hi, Madam Faruzan.”
“You have great timing, my dear. I need you to settle a score for us, could you do that?”
Sethos looked between her, then at the sheepish look on Roomie’s face. He rearranged the scrolls in his arms, then shrugged. “Sure. You two seem like you need it.”
Roomie didn’t seem enthused by this. “Thanks but… you don’t have to. You already have your hands full. Literally.”
Faruzan’s bracelets clattered as she smacked his back. “Quiet! We’re stuck in a rut as is. Have the grace to realize that we’ve no choice but to consult.”
“B-but,” Roomie started as Sethos came closer. “Are we even allowed to talk about this outside of—?”
“It’s fine,” Faruzan stressed, then smiled up at Sethos. “Dear, we’re in a bit of a bind here. You know the desert education program?”
Sethos nodded. He was made intimately aware of the curricula a week ago and had sent back his feedback on them just a couple of days ago.
Particularly, the literature ones.
“Well, we’re the ones in charge of the engineering and literature courses. Our current problem, at the moment, is for literature.”
What are the chances…
“I see…” He remembered his feedback.
Most entry-level classes for that should be analyzing oral folktales. The Temple will be providing instructors. It was a good way to tie into the history and culture courses. A space for instruments was to be provided.
“Madam Faruzan here was insisting that we provide our own folktales for comparison on the entry-level courses.”
Sethos looked at the list, the curriculum, which definitely had his handwriting in blue, then at Faruzan. “And you’ll have the people who can sing these, Madam?”
“Ah, most folktales here in the forest are written down.”
“The entry-level courses clearly state oral folktales though.”
Roomie sighed, then gave Sethos another strained smile. “I’m Kaveh. Sorry, for all this.”
He shook his head, returning the smile with, hopefully, less strain. “No problem!”
“Why oral?” Faruzan asked, grabbing the list from him.
Sethos cleared his throat. Almost by rote, he recited, “Though most desert folktales have been written down, the oral tradition is there to maintain a sense of community. Most of the choruses are sung by listeners while the orator tells the main story. There are multiple versions of a lot of folktales out there, some of which haven’t been logged before. Sharing is what fosters that sense of community.”
Kaveh made an appraising sound, then said, “Then, I suppose a cultural exchange of folktales is out of the question for entry-level classes.”
Sethos bobbed his head this way and that, hands a little preoccupied to gesture around. “I can’t say I’d encourage it. If we’re teaching desert folk, you should meet them where they’re at, even if most of the faculty will be forest folk. But you can definitely try with… well, aren’t there any oral folktales for forest folk? Nursery rhymes? Songs children sing while playing together? Bonfire prayers?”
Kaveh looked to Faruzan, who put a hand to her chin, deep in thought.
A gust of wind, the faint jingling of bells.
A hand pulled at his scarf, nearly causing him to drop the papers in his hand.
“Found you.”
Sethos laughed. “Hey, Nanashi. Good afternoon!”
Nanashi glared at him, then looked between Faruzan, Kaveh, and the elevator to the Grand Sage’s office. “You’re late and they’ve sent me to come get you.”
Sethos put the papers down on the table. “I was… waiting for Cyno?”
“He’s been there all morning. Scared of getting on the elevator by yourself? Need someone to hold your hand?”
“Uh,” he looked over to the other two. They waved at him to go. “Please put all the books back in recollection. I’m sorry about this. I hope I was helpful!”
“You were plenty helpful, dear, thank you.”
Kaveh laughed. “It was nice meeting you, Sethos.”
“Bye!”
Nanashi walked off.
Sethos jogged after him.
He strode to walk next to Nanashi. “Look, I’m not scared of that huge and unnecessarily long elevator, but if you’re offering to hold my hand—”
Nanashi clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, taking his hand far from Sethos’ reach. “Forget it.”
“... and if we’re going to be training more lecturers from— Oh, Panah. Are they here?”
“They’re on their way up, according to Shohre.”
“Alright,” Nahida said, looking around the table. “Do we have enough chairs for three more?”
“I’ll stand,” Nanashi offered. “Not like I needed a seat anyway.”
Sethos turned in his seat as footsteps echoed down the great hall.
And up came Kaveh and Tighnari.
“I trust all is well with the revisions?” Nahida asked.
Both newcomers bowed low before their Archon.
As he stood back upright, Kaveh said, “Madam Faruzan and I have done as we could with the critiques we’ve been given, my lord. Time notwithstanding.”
Nahida put her tea down and looked up at her scribe. “Very well, we’ll shelf the instructor discussion for now. We need to brief Mister Kaveh and the Chief Forest Watcher for another concern. Please, take a seat.”
“I can do it,” Sethos volunteered, raising a hand as he stood. “It was my request anyway.”
Nahida nodded. “Go ahead, Sethos.”
Kaveh was a little wide-eyed as their eyes met.
Sethos pulled up one of the scrolls they set aside and unrolled it on the table.
A map of Sumeru was laid out before them. Not exactly from end-to-end (it was a huge table), but it was a little close.
As everyone around the table helped rearrange it just so, Sethos stood upright with his thanks.
“Quick formal introduction! My name is Sethos, current leader of the Temple of Silence. There will be a merger and a reopening of the chapter here in the Akademiya before the beginning of next semester.
“Agenda: we’ve summoned the current Chief of the Forest Watch and Sumeru City’s best architect for a bit of a public resource project in an effort to pave the way towards the desert program as a condition for this merger.”
There was a cough from Cyno from the other end of the room that he dutifully ignored.
“To start with, we have two points. One: There is an open canal leading from Port Ormos to Sumeru City, both with their own docks for resources from around the nation and outside. Two: There is a well-patrolled road from Sumeru City to Gandharva Ville as a bridge between prospective caravans and merchants from Liyue. Any news from that? Last I heard, they shut down the Chasm because of earthquakes.”
Alhaitham cleared his throat. “It’s not entirely up for business, but upper level mining has reopened. The Navbed have spoken to the Millelith and the Ministry of Civil Affairs within the past year about broaching the topic with the Qixing. They’re positive we may see it open again before the end of the year but keep your expectations low.”
Sethos nodded. “That’s still great news for this specific project. Now, Chief Tighnari, how many ranger stations are there between Sumeru City, Port Ormos, and Caravan Ribat?”
Tighnari glanced around the map laid out on the table for a moment, before saying, “About three. Four, if we count the shelters in Apam Woods. Five, if we count Pardis Dhyai, which we’ve turned into a bit of an unofficial rest stop.”
Sethos nodded. “I see. We did not count that. But yes. Most of the road lamp maintenance and monster clearing has been left to the Forest Watch, as well as the city bounty hunters assigned by the Corps of Thirty. The General was kind enough to inform us of this much.
“But there’s our problem: that and the Wall of Samiel are two of the biggest hurdles people from the desert have to jump over just to get resources into and out of the desert. Mister Kaveh, if I may ask. How did you find the resource management to build that library in Aaru Village?”
“Oh. To be perfectly honest, most of that was left to Miss Candace and Miss Dehya. They were insistent that I wouldn’t be able to haggle regular prices from Caravan Ribat’s merchants if I were to ask for a supply of lumber or hire any laborers. And that’s on top of the tax from the Corps, because there’s no Navbed tax officer in Ribat. My budget was mostly based on donations, as the land wasn’t titled to anyone in Aaru Village themselves. So…. difficult, to say the least.”
“Excuse me. Are you… proposing a road construction project, Sethos?” Tighnari asked, already looking like he was about to protest.
Sethos shook his head profusely. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. The quickest way would be through Apam Woods and most of those trees are older than all of us in this room combined. No offense, Lesser Lord Kusanali.”
Nahida laughed. “None taken.”
“I was mostly proposing better rest stops,” Sethos continued, putting a hand to his waist as he tallied what they’d need. “Relief stations for sumpterbeasts, horses, whatever else and the people that go with them. Freshwater supplies, if the rangers can manage. A messaging outpost for correspondence via bird and traveler. Whatever else I’m missing. Either we supply the Forest Watch with tents and other things to replenish these stations indefinitely,or we install more permanent solutions. Which is where Mister Kaveh comes in.”
“So… rest stops,” Kaveh concluded. “Cabins? Fenced off, fire pit. An actual shelter that comes fully furnished, like the shelters in Apam Woods.”
Sethos nodded. “First aid kits, hiking gear, stoves, and other supplies as well. If nothing else, these rest stops could be a good way to make sure the Forest Watch have a better patrol route around this area so, Chief Tighnari, if there are any problem areas for your rangers, you might be able to thin them out with these.
“It’s not a surefire solution to conveniently be able to transport supplies from the port to Ribat, but it’ll lessen the roadside accidents— bandits, monsters, natural disasters. The works. This ensures the supplies make it to Ribat without damage or deficit. The rest is up to the officials in Ribat if they still want to extort desertfolk with taxes.”
“We’ll handle that,” Nahida said ominously, a glint to her eye he’s sworn would look much less terrifying if seen on Nanashi.
“Of course, my lord. Many thanks. So… any pressing concerns?”
“I’ll have to consult with my rangers,” Tighnari said. “I know Apam Woods is covered primarily by Pardis Dhyai and any scholar in Amurta. But I can’t deny how promising the idea is to expand the Watch to this degree. This is pretty smart, Sethos.”
Sethos chuckled. “The Temple will be benefiting from this too, you know.”
“Just one issue,” Tighnari followed up. “We are severely understaffed. Most of my rangers come from the east, maybe a bit southeast, of the city. As much as I would love to keep track of and make these roads to Ribat safe, we just… don’t have that manpower.”
Sethos hummed in consideration as he noted where the rangers came from. “Is there a… salary issue going on? Why isn’t recruitment going well?”
“It’s not that, it’s the level of entry, I think,” he said, glancing towards Cyno, then back at Sethos. “At the most, you’d have to at least have some knowledge of first aid and forestry. Just so you won’t ingest anything you aren’t supposed to and don’t die if you do. Weapons training, elemental mastery training, if you have a Vision. Hospitality training, sometimes. It’s… it’s a lot, admittedly. But the rangers we have do well at their jobs and the trainees are given workshops and seminars with the general public in attendance, if we have the time for it.”
Sethos nodded, then looked towards Nahida. “My lord, there seems to be some infrastructural problems in the Forest Watch.”
Nahida looked remorseful as she leaned in to meet Tighnari’s eyes. “My apologies, Chief Tighnari. I was aware there were problems when you accepted Azar and the other sages, but I didn’t know you were…”
Tighnari shook his head. “It’s alright, my lord. The workshops and training seminars were my idea. I was running them illegally for the two years I’ve been Chief before Grand Sage Azar was overthrown.”
“Tighnari…”
Tighnari’s ear twitched, but there was no discernible change to his face or tone. He didn’t even glance at Cyno. “You don’t have to cover for me, General. I’m aware it was a crime at the time, but with the Withering zones increasing at a rapid rate, it was either I let people walk into the forest with no mind for their safety or I choose to incriminate myself by educating them.”
“Have you considered the Adventurer’s Guild,” asked Nanashi, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Or the Corps of Thirty,” added Kaveh. “I know a bunch of groups just grasping for the bit to get a decent commission nowadays.”
“I… have. In a sense,” Tighnari answered, looking a little peeved. “Three years before the siege, I proposed a joint-venture between all three, the Forest Watch, the Corps of Thirty, and the Adventurer’s Guild. If only to circumvent the Withering zones. I wanted to teach them how to properly and safely disperse of these problem areas because Gandharva Ville was a bit overrun with Eleazar patients at the time. And these zones were popping in much quicker than they have in previous years and reappearing at faster rates. I think you’re aware of how that turned out, Scribe Alhaitham.”
He nodded.
“Well, how’d it go?” asked Kaveh.
“Denied approval,” Cyno supplied. “The sages were pooling manpower to the false god project, so no matter how correct Tighnari was, they weren’t willing to do it.”
“I don’t see why we can’t try with this now,” Sethos pointed out, tone level, careful not to sound annoyed by the segue.
No one else but Nanashi seemed to pick up on it, suddenly looking up from where he was drawing circles on his notebook, the movement loud as the bits and bobs on his hat jingled with the motion.
Sethos sighed as subtly as he could, though he didn’t know how severe he must have looked. “That was then. You now have the privilege of bridging this gap. The Forest Watch has a much more stable source of income than mercenary work. If you time it right, we can even run a recruitment program just before the stations are complete, and give out the classes as part of the approval process. You’ll have people flocking before you can put out an upper limit to your class population. Is that… feasible?”
Tighnari put a hand to his chin. “It might be. It would depend on how open the mercenary groups and adventurers are to the idea, wouldn’t it?”
“I can ask, and I can tell you what the response could be. I could also ask around Aaru Village on my return trip,” Sethos said with some finality, and maybe a bit of his frayed nerves coming through. Kaveh, from where he sat by Sethos’ left was starting to look a little concerned.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry if I seem pushy, but we have to be decisive on this if you want that merger between the Temple and the Akademiya. You can’t be held back by what-if’s if you want a better relationship with desert folk. What limitations you had with this Azar guy don’t exist or matter anymore. If you want these education programs to go well, you can’t stop at instruction and hope for the best, you have to make sure they’re not in such a sorry state that they never even get to leave the desert for something more. No one in the desert ever died stupid or uninformed.”
A silence fell over the hall.
Kaveh leaned forward and handed Sethos a cup of tea.
With his thanks, he turned to sit on the edge of the table, his back to everyone, careful not to sit on the map.
“He’s right,” Nahida said, finally, tone firm and commanding. “We’ll discuss the Forest Watch’s problems within the next few meetings so, Chief Tighnari, be sure to discuss your schedule with Mister Panah after this. Right now, we’ve ironed out most of the merger’s conditions.
“As Sethos’ terms have mostly to do with necessities and resources being brought to their Temple, this summons is taking out three birds with one stone: our desert education program, our relief efforts for Aaru Village, and our partnership with the Temple of Silence.”
“So…” Kaveh started, tone light. “Am I— Is this a commission? From the Akademiya?” He looked around the table between Sethos and, well, his roommate. The latter of whom was steadily ignoring him as he wrote down the minutes on his clipboard.
“Absolutely,” Nahida answered, smiling.
“... know what? I’ll start tonight. Do keep the coffee pot heated—”
“Excuse me.”
Both men turned as he approached.
It was difficult, to catch up with these two, what with the lengthy elevator ride holding him up and their stupid long legs. But, Sethos wasn’t the Temple’s fastest runner for nothing.
Kaveh gave a subdued smile as he turned. “Sethos! It was such a shock to see you so soon. To think you were the one giving me and Madam Faruzan feedback this whole time.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well. I was more concerned with what Madam Faruzan might think if she— Ah, Alhaitham! Wait, wait, wait! I meant to talk to you, please—”
Alhaitham stopped by the fountain, face impassive. “If this is for anything related to what we’ve discussed in the meeting, do keep in mind that it is past working hours.”
Sethos jogged up, gesturing for Kaveh to follow. “I-it’s not— Okay, it is but also isn’t. I expect the Mahamata to have a census of the Corps of Thirty’s employment records from within the past months already but I honestly was just going to ask if it was worth going down to the barracks personally for.”
Kaveh inclined his head. “You think the Corps of Thirty would lie in the census? What for?”
Sethos chewed at the inside of his mouth before going with, “Call it a hunch?”
“Or observation,” Alhaitham said, fully turning his way. “You have reason to believe that the Corps of Thirty could be beefing up their numbers for better pay.”
He sighed. “I’ve seen the city guard. Quite frankly, these are the least prepared mercenaries I’ve ever stumbled upon. There’s one single blacksmith providing them weaponry and, well, even the ones here aren’t sharp enough to catch one scammer pretending to be Mahamata.”
“Someone would do that?” Kaveh asked, genuine horror in his voice.
“There’s a warrant out for his arrest. Man called Mustah. Point is, they’re unprepared, often just forced to set up post in front of important buildings, and have rarely been hired to make official arrests as of recent.”
Alhaitham scoffed. “You can thank Cyno for that. I’ve been telling him—”
“I know, I’ve heard,” Sethos placated quickly, rushing. “So. The census. Accurate? Or should investigate in person?”
Alhaitham stared at him for a good ten seconds, making him sweat a little. But once those excruciating seconds were up, he said, “I’ll do it.”
“Right— Wait, really?” “You?”
Alhaitham hummed. “You make a good point about their utility. We have close to 150 groups in our census, yet it seems they haven’t been quite up to par. At least, by your standards. Discussing this issue with the Corps of Thirty will be delicate, inside and outside of official matters with the Akademiya.”
Sethos sighed, then looked to Kaveh for help.
Kaveh only gave him a shrug. Apparently, this was just something Alhaitham liked to do.
“Well, that’s… one of my concerns, I guess,” Sethos muttered. Then, louder, he said, “Okay, well, do you guys know anyone I can ask for a better tally on the desert mercenary groups? Someone well-informed enough to keep track of who’s looking, recruiting, all that stuff.”
Kaveh put a hand on his chin in thought. “Well, I would say you’d have a better chance asking around Port Ormos but… you can ask Effendi or Katheryne, if you’re looking for someone in contact with any groups actively looking for work. Cross-reference, see if they mention any groups in common.”
Sethos nodded. Looks like he lucked out on who to ask here. His second option was asking Cyno, Nahida being his last.
“Dehya,” was Alhaitham’s abrupt answer.
Kaveh scoffed. “You can’t just namedrop Miss Dehya just because she’s the only mercenary you know.”
“She isn’t, but she’s currently on active duty, unlike the other mercenaries I know. I heard she recently got into a fight with the remaining members of Dehret’s Relics.”
Sethos made a face. “Tacky name.”
Kaveh gave him a bemused laugh.
He sighed, swaying a little where he stood. “Is she really my best bet here?”
“Why, is there a problem with that?”
Sethos gestured widely. “It’s just— It’s Dehya! The Flame Mane?”
Kaveh shook his head, “Aren’t you the leader of the Temple of Silence?”
“Dude, you don’t understand. I’m some backwater nobody. No one even knows what a Temple of Silence is! But the Flame Mane of the Blazing Beasts?” He whistled low.
“Unless you know someone else you can ask without pushing their pitch on you, suck it up,” Alhaitham said, merciless as always.
“So mean,” Sethos whined. “You’re meaner than Nanashi, which is saying a lot.”
“If that’s all, I’m leaving.”
“Wh— Hey! Uh, I hope we were helpful, Sethos!”
He waved after them. “Yeah, thanks. See ya…”
Port Ormos was as overwhelming as the last time he set foot there.
It was really just in passing, that once, to grab some supplies on his way back to the Temple, maybe get a sumpterbeast to ride to Ribat. Just to experience it.
But man, if he didn’t almost get lost three times just walking around.
Street performers, snake charmers, vendors shouting for their wares this way and that. Carpets and large looms, pots and vases and pottery wheels. It was a louder, more colorful Grand Bazaar, sans the Zubayr Theater—
“Quit gawking— Why’d you even drag me over here?”
“Well, we’re friends. And you agreed.”
Nanashi scoffed, but his eyes were also drawn to things, seemingly just as distracted as Sethos was, like this was also his first time.
“Have you been in Sumeru long?”
Nanashi glanced at him. “About two years. Why.”
“Just… Wanted to ask if I’m the only one a little overstimulated right now,” Sethos muttered, stepping aside for a group of scholars who seemed to be in a rush. “I’ll be honest, you’re really here to keep me on track. The last time I came here, I lost hours of my day before I even knew it.”
“Me? I don’t even know what you dragged me here for.” Then, he said something to himself in a language Sethos had never heard of before.
All he earned was a scoff when he pointed out this observation.
As Nanashi sped up his pace, Sethos thought maybe this day shouldn’t be for work. He was sure he could probably just run the info by Tighnari and Kaveh some other day anyway.
Then, almost to himself, he said, “Maybe I should learn Inazuman. That way…”
“That way you can have an excuse to pester me to teach you? Fat chance.”
“That’s a pretty good idea, actually. But no. That way… You’d have someone to talk to in your native language. It must be awfully lonely not speaking it most of the time.”
“Lesser Lord Kusanali speaks it,” he retorted dismissively.
“Well yeah, but that’s the avatar of Irminsul, dude. Did you have a perfect grasp of Sumeran the day you came here?”
No response.
Sethos knocked shoulders with him and received a fierce look.
Noted, no touching.
“Did you hear me?” He asked.
Nanashi squinted at him for a long while, perhaps considering the question, perhaps just wondering whether he should ignore Sethos.
“Yes,” he deadpanned eventually. “It came with the Akasha Terminal I was given. A free Knowledge Capsule they give to foreigners. I learned the entire Sumeran language and alphabet within the blink of an eye.”
“Oh, shit really?”
“No. I’m joking.”
“Oh.”
Nanashi scoffed, but it almost sounded like a laugh.
Sethos smiled. “Well, want something for lunch? My treat. You can even order the most expensive thing on the menu just to annoy me. This is Akademiya money.”
“What are the chances…”
“Surprisingly high.”
Sethos nearly jumped a foot in the air. “Nanashi! Gods.”
Nanashi raised a brow at him, carrying two cups of tea in his hands. “So, you actually did drag me here for work.”
“No, I dragged you here to accompany me on a nice day in Port Ormos!”
“So, you were just eyeing that merc and muttering to yourself because you were having a ‘nice day in Port Ormos.’”
“You make me sound like such a sleaze.”
“You didn’t deny it.”
Sethos shook his head, stretching a hand out for his tea. “I’m not gonna do work today. I already decided.”
Across the bridge, crossing over to their side at the cafe by Shapur Hotel was the tall, dark, and admittedly handsome Dehya herself. Accompanied by a bejeweled lady he could only guess was Dunyarzad of the Homayani family.
Sethos had never seen Dehya before, nor Dunyarzad, but he knew the Flame Mane just by the gauntlets she wore and, according to his sources, Dunyarzad would often be seen by her side when Dehya visited Port Ormos.
“You’re really just gonna let them walk off without even doing anything?”
“I have a life outside of work,” he snarked back. “‘Sides, it’s not really gonna be— Hold on, how’d you even know I was looking for her?”
Nanashi only sipped at his tea in response.
He sighed when he earned more silence. “And here I thought you came along because you actually wanted to hang out with me. I’m hurt!”
“And here I thought you bothered me for something nice when you were really thinking about work.”
“... Okay, fair.”
At that, they each took to enjoying their drinks.
Nanashi had this ceremonial grace with which he took any cup of tea, Sethos had noticed, and sometimes it was a little hard not to watch as he mechanically drank from his cup.
Though, from the frown on his lips, Sethos thought maybe Nanashi was half-joking just like he was.
Meeting his gaze, Nanashi raised a brow at him.
Sethos smiled, “What say you to a little hike, huh?”
“Why.”
“For fun! What, you’ve never just wandered around taking in the scenery? I’m a desert dweller, dude! I haven’t been around such lush foliage all my life. I even brought my Kamera!”
Nanashi looked out into the opposite end of the bridge, scrunching up his nose. “It’s all the same anywhere anyway. It’s just trees and shrubs. You’ve got those in the desert.”
“Yeah, but not in abundance. C’mooon!”
“Sorry, excuse me. I just overheard you talking and wanted to come over and offer my two cents? If that’s okay?”
Nanashi glanced at him briefly and pointedly, before giving Dunyarzad a seamless and natural polite smile. “Sure. We don’t mind.”
Sethos tried not to gape or laugh incredulously.
This sneaky little…
“Miss— I mean, Dunyarzad… You can’t—”
Dunyarzad hushed Dehya with a motion, swaying as her arm was pulled but not moving away from the table. “Are you two planning a hike to Apam Woods or Lokapala Jungle?”
Sethos smiled up at her, glancing to and from Nanashi as he did. “Well… We haven’t really decided yet. Any recommendations, Miss? My friend and I here are kind of new around the area. He’s from Inazuma, I’m from the desert so, we’re a little overwhelmed.”
Dunyarzad hummed in thought. “I’d say, if you want to check out the flora, try Apam Woods! You can drop by Pardis Dhyai or just stay in one of the shelters there. Oh, and bring an umbrella for the afternoon. It tends to pour.”
“What’s wrong with the jungle,” asked Nanashi.
“Overrun with Dahri machines,” answered Dehya. “Ah, sorry for interrupting. My, uh, my friend here can be a little nosey sometimes.”
“Hey,” Dunyarzad protested, laughing a little. “I just wanted to help out.”
“And you were great help! I’m Sethos, by the way,” he said, holding out a hand to shake.
Dunyarzad accepted it. “Dunyarzad. This is my friend Dehya.”
Dehya held out a hand, gesturing for them to hold up. “Wait… Sethos, as in Cyno’s distant cousin Sethos?”
He blinked. “Uh…”
Nanashi snorted.
“I don’t see the resemblance,” Dunyarzad said, hand to her chin as she regarded Sethos. Her earrings swung as she did, and it was all the detail Sethos could take in as he tried to process what Dehya had just said.
He shook his head, dizzy. “That’s because we’re not… distant cousins— Excuse me, who told you that?”
Dehya inclined her head. “Tighnari. At least, in the last letter he sent me. Cyno doesn’t really make it a point to write letters, and neither does Alhaitham, even if he sends Candace the official letters from Lesser Lord Kusanali. So, I usually just message Tighnari instead to check up on them.”
Nanashi wheezed.
“Stop laughing,” Sethos hissed. “I... It’s just a little weird to be recognized by… the Flame Mane of all people.” As Cyno’s cousin of all things too, but he let that go unsaid. What the hell.
He glared as Nanashi wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.
Dehya cackled.
Sethos pulled his scarf around his head again, but not to ward against a sandstorm. “It’s not that funny.”
Setaria at least had the dignity to stifle her laughter from where she sat next to Dehya. “It is, a little.”
He sighed. “We— Cyno and I grew up together but we’re not related. It’s the—”
“You shared Hermanubis’ legacy,” Candace concluded, but the smile was evident in her voice. “So, you can say… you once shared a part of each other’s soul?”
“That’s—”
“That’s worse!” Dehya squeaked out.
Sethos sighed, then held out his hand.
Summoning what remained of Hermanubis’ will within him wasn’t entirely difficult. He suspected, despite the tradeoffs of no longer having heightened senses, it would take decades at the most for this power to vanish completely.
He’d just have to prepare for the eventuality.
The swirling motion of the faded wrappings, of which the words Sethos could still swear he could read, whipped around his arm. The core of it in the palm of his hand made shadows dance behind Dehya and Setaria’s heads, lighting their faces Electro purple.
“It’s not just stories or rumors,” he said, a little saddened by the way Dehya’s face sombered at the sight of it. “The reason I couldn’t tell you, Miss Dehya, about why I was such ‘a bigwig,’ in your words, was because of how shaky the whole deal with the Akademiya still is. There’s a chance it falls through and you’d have only known of the Temple by name but never what it did. What I’m doing as the leader of the Temple of Silence, a faith that is determined by what it cannot allow you to know, is going to be one of the only ways I can keep my home alive.”
“What, and saying it out loud would jinx it?”
He shrugged. “We’re not known for our luck, we’re known for our resilience, us desert dwellers. I dunno about you guys,” he took in their faces, Dehya, Setaria, Candace. “I’m just tired of it. In truth, I was actually glad Nanashi forced me to have a conversation with you, lead you to Kaveh and Tighnari instead of having to bring you to them myself. I snapped at them, at that meeting.”
“‘No one in the desert ever died stupid,’” Setaria muttered, remembering his words. Sethos inclined his head at her, wanting her to continue. “You know, I was the pride of my tribe when I got into the Akademiya. And I spent my years after graduating tailing after corrupt men who offered nothing but suffering for our people. The salary kept my people alive, but the cost of staying in that job was…”
“And the moment you snapped out of it, you were arrested,” Dehya intoned. “That sucks.”
“By the way, Miss Setaria. Na— Lesser Lord Kusanali told me you were the one who proposed all this,” Sethos pointed out. “How come you were planning on teaching desert folk Akademiya material?”
Candace scratched at her cheek. “We tried, for a while, to get material. We just didn’t have a lot of it in writing. So it was hard to present alternatives to Alhaitham’s ideas.”
“Your ideas were actually pretty subversive,” Setaria said, leaning forward. “And you’re offering teachers for the positions as well? I read it in the debrief.”
Sethos chewed at the inside of his cheek. These desert program discussions definitely should have been held with its chief practitioners. “Yeah, if our archivists agree. I know a couple elders who would be delighted to dust off their personal tomes as material.”
He wondered, briefly, in that familiar room, with vaguely familiar people, if Bamoun would have agreed to this as well.
But it was a passing thought, considered for no more than a second.
Bamoun had delighted in teaching Sethos what he knew, but he extended none of this warmth to others in the Temple. In hindsight, perhaps it was because of his future role. Or perhaps it was because of genuine fondness.
He wasn’t sure which reality he preferred.
“I think the storm’s passed,” Dehya muttered, leaning behind Setaria as if keeping an ear out towards the windows.
They fell into silence, listening. Distantly, Sethos could hear the crackle of flames. True enough, the howling winds that had chased them indoors were gone.
Candace stood from her seat. “Setaria, if you could help me light the lanterns.”
“Ah, of course.”
To Sethos, she said, “I know we’ve taken much of your time already, as well as the fruits of your labor, according to your conditions with Lesser Lord Kusanali. But it would be nice, to get together like this again.”
Sethos shook his head. “I wasn’t doing all that as a follower of Ahmar or anything. Or as a desert dweller.”
Dehya chuckled, bringing his attention back to her as Candace and Setaria left their table. “I don’t think the villagers who have been wincing at these taxes from the Corps would care if you were doing it for your temple. It affects all of us.”
“I know you still have a trek home as the night falls,” Candace said from somewhere behind them. “Would you want to take a meal with you?”
“No need,” he said, looking away from Dehya. “I wouldn’t want to impose even more.”
The door flew open.
Candace took a step away from the oven, turning. “Uncle Belkacem?”
“She’s here again,” Belkacem intoned from outside. “I figured I’d walk her over before we find her out in the wild again.”
“Layla!”
“Uh, pardon the intrusion?”
“Layla?” Setaria stood from her seat, walking around the table.
Someone stepped into the house as Belkacem closed the door behind her.
This Layla didn’t seem to be from the desert, if her attire was anything to go by.
“Hey, sleepy girl!” Dehya said in lieu of a greeting.
Layla, dubbed sleepy girl, bowed in her direction.
“Let me guess,” Setaria said. “Star charts again?”
She nodded, pulling at her pack. With a slow, tired enunciation, she explained, “I’ve been advised that I needed clear footage of the sky over the next few nights as proof of my calculations. So, I’ll probably be coming back and forth just to be thorough.”
“Do you need a guide?” asked Candace.
“Uh… not really. I just need to find an oasis level enough to leave the Kamera on for a while and let it record by itself. I was thinking up on the cliffs but before I could get past the statue… one of the guards pulled me over and brought me up here.”
Sethos stood up from his seat and approached them. “Well, you came at the right time. I was about to head home anyway. There’s an oasis where I’m headed. Did you bring any camping gear, Miss Layla?”
Layla looked to him, perhaps a bit startled by the casual way he offered.
Or butted into the conversation without introducing himself. Whoops.
“This is Sethos,” Candace said for him. He nodded along. “He knows the way. You can trust him. Though, Sethos, you won’t have to coddle her too much, she knows how to fight. I’m sure you two alone would be fine though… did you bring camping gear, Layla?”
She flushed. “Uh… no. I figured… I figured I probably won’t end up falling asleep, seeing as it’s so cold out there, especially during this season.”
Sethos shook his head. “That’s no way to be. You should avoid camping out there in the night if you’re not used to it. Look, I can show you to my uh… my settlement? That way you won’t have to freeze outside in the night after you’ve taken your footage. Or have to go back and forth. We’ve plenty of room.”
“Um… Thank you, then. I’ll be in your care, Mister Sethos.”
The trek through the ravine towards the Temple’s oasis was not made in silence— Sethos quite disliked the way the desert’s silence sometimes rang in his ears when the winds blew hard and the animals were burrowed too deep to shout into the night.
For this reason, he was eager to get to know Layla.
The way was, for once, clear of fungi and barely populated by irate Hilichurls, perhaps owing to the late hour. The sky was clear, their path lit by the stars shining brightly above. It was a great night for someone charting the stars and, in his humble opinion, a great night for getting to know someone.
Especially since he’s seen her face before. In pictures from Cyno’s room and Tighnari’s home.
She was a little young, though Sethos had seen younger scholars in the Akademiya in the past month. She had this look in her eye that was at once dazed and focused, her demeanor listless in a way he couldn’t place. Like she was having trouble keeping here eye in one place.
Sleepy girl, Dehya dubbed her.
A double entendre? Or was it literal?
She was sharp despite it. She pulled at Sethos’s scarf as gently as she could when she noticed quivering sand piles or sigils near places they were headed towards.
“So, Miss Layla, which Darshan are you in?”
“Oh, um. I’m in the Rtawahist Darshan. My… research only just recently got approved so, I guess I’m officially on my way to becoming dastur now.”
“Whoa! That’s great! I hear that’s a tall order.”
She laughed, a flighty sound. “Yeah. Well, that’s Teyvat’s most prestigious school for you.” The way she said it made it sound like she despaired the very concept of it.
He shook his head but decided not to say anything. “So, what was your research about?”
“Hm…”
He lagged a little as he walked, making sure to slow until they walked shoulder to shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry about me not catching what you’re throwing. I’m great with context clues. I hear I’ve got a talent with metaphors.”
“N-no, that’s not really what I’m worried about. Uh… I just don’t think I’ve ever talked to anyone outside my Darshan about it before. So, I’m trying think of ways to explain it without using… technical words that only Rtawahist scholars would use. Don’t want to lose my audience, is all.”
Sethos laughed at that, which finally made her ease up just a bit.
She looked up at the sky above them as they walked. The wind blew past. “It’s just that people tend to consider fate as this fickle, shackling thing. It sorta makes talking about this all that harder. Uh… Tell me, Mister Sethos—”
“Just Sethos is fine,” he waved.
She looked back at him, then nodded. “Then, uh, Layla is alright too.”
He bumped her shoulder as they walked. “Go on then, Layla.”
She looked back up at the stars, humming in contemplation.
“If a scarab rolls a ball of dung off a cliff, should it float or fall?”
“Hah. Well, of course, it’d fall.”
“Then why do people insist that the course of fate be different?”
He took a deep breath, wincing at the sharpness of the cold air as it entered his nose.
As a Cryo Vision bearer, Layla seemed unperturbed by the arid clime. Sethos pulled his cloak closer to himself as they walked, huffing with a little bit of envy.
“Gravity is one thing,” he conceded, squinting past a particularly strong gust of wind. “But even if it’s as intangible as fate, we understand it more. An object having mass and density should fall from a height. We can even tell where it goes, how fast it’ll fall, and how long it’ll take from the top to the bottom.
“People can’t consistently predict the future, is what I’m saying. We can only know what has happened and what is happening. So when you put prophecies, visions, and fates on the table, people can’t help but try to measure, calculate, and guess.”
“So… we turn fate into gravity to try and make sense of it? Because if we can make sense of it, we can alter its path or change it.”
“Exactly.”
“Hm… But that’s not entirely true.”
“No?”
She shook her head. Then, she pointed up.
“Those stars follow a fixed path, never changing in orbit unless one or a cluster of them die or fade. So too the sun and moon. We can calculate all of them, use them to understand changes in the weather, predict the currents and tides, navigate, all that neat stuff. But we can never alter their paths, can we?”
“Well, why would you even want to?”
“… Have you ever just wished you could stop time, if only for a moment? That a second could last for as long as it could just so you could have something or someone for longer?”
He considered that, then looked up at the stars.
“You know… I think you’ve got a point.”
Layla giggled at that, a small tinkling thing like the jingle of her jewelry as they walked.
Sethos pushed her again with his shoulder. “I guess that’s why you’re the scholar.”
She waved her hands. “No, no, you made some pretty solid arguments. I’ve just been turning these ideas around for a while.”
“And because you’ve read tons of books on it. And wrote a paper for it. Got it approved.”
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of an entry-level requirement for being a scholar, Sethos.”
He laughed, loud and easy. “She’s got jokes!”
They walked further and further down the well-trodden path in companionable silence for a bit after that. And, for once, Sethos felt fine with it.
It wasn’t grating or deafening, not at all like the silence that had made him flee to the city, the silence that planted restlessness in him like a rot.
It was just…
The whispering breeze,
the shifting sands,
the flapping of wings and cloaks,
the crunch of footfalls,
the distant cries of countless desert animals.
It was just home.
At times, because she was more comfortable, Layla would tell him about her professors, and the friends she’d made recently after the Championship. All the while, he kept his eye on the horizon, the sea of stars lighting their path as the night rolled on.
Maybe, when he gets back, the Temple will smell just as it always had.
Maybe, when he sees Bamoun’s cleared out room, it would just be an empty room, devoid of any loss of life in it, devoid of all meaning.
Maybe, when he brought the conditions of the merger, regardless of the ensuing arguments, their part of the deal will still be upheld.
To see something happen is proof of it coming to pass, like a Kamera photo printed in one’s hand, proving the passing of a memory as it occurs in real time.
Flying, falling.
Altering, letting.
Fate and the orbit of the stars.
How fascinating.
It was all so completely fascinating, the way the people of the forest saw things.
Wide-eyed staring at the horizon and knowing without hoping that something will come of it, that things will turn out because the path that it took to get there came like a foregone conclusion— that greatness is not a requirement to be loved by all but a result of it.
That Sethos, a man who is a role, could be a person too, if he tried hard enough. That this determination to build bridges with the Akademiya could end up being for the better.
“Then… I suppose all that changes, really, is how and when we see it?”
“Hm?”
“Your first question, from before. If you’re on the cliff, you see the ball fall and don’t know where it goes unless you take a look. It might have floated, it might have just broken mid-air. If you’re under the cliff when it does, all you see is the impact it makes on the ground. Both are irreversible and true. It falls and floats depending on how and when you see it.”
Layla smiled, eyes finally focused, almost glowing under the stars. It warmed Sethos, even in the cold desert night. “That’s what my research is about.”
