Chapter Text
“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?”
Great people are loved by all.
That was the last thing he thought, as he secured the last of his things onto his admittedly light pack. Everything he needed for a month, in a pack so small, he could still move his arms around the straps and wouldn’t hit his head on the tent and bedroll.
He looked at the desk before him.
Personal Kamera photos were a novel concept to him. He was used to the clinical ones he found in the books in the Temple’s archives, the ones taken for ceremony, to log and record.
These weren’t like that, these were taken in the middle of moments that moved. And there were a lot here, in the room he’d boarded for the night.
Like on the right of this desk: a photo of Tighnari and Cyno standing by a non-descript fountain, lost in conversation. They were in a lot of these photos, actually. On the wall above the desk: here, the two of them with a group of people Sethos noted to remember for later; there, the two of them with a girl and a taller man sitting at… Lambad’s, it seemed; and this one, the two of them and the girl standing in front of a house.
The only Kamera photos that weren’t of Cyno and Tighnari was of that same girl, speaking in front of a crowd of people. This one was framed on the bedside table across the room, along with a framed photo of a younger Cyno and his master.
(That latter drew his eye the most, and he found that it held a magnetism he could yet conceive.)
With one last look at these images, Sethos took a deep breath and stepped out of the room.
Cyrus shifted as he closed the door, looming in the hall with a bag in his hand Sethos made it his immediate personal mission to not accept on his way out of the house.
“You really don’t have to go, y’know. It’s only been a night. Perhaps you need at least h-half a day more,” he stammered, trying to gather his words while he was in a rush to speak them.
Sethos smiled easily, used to this song and dance by now. He pulled at his pack again, trying to shift past as subtly as he could. His eye dropped to the bag, then lifted to meet Cyrus’ eyes. “I’ll be fine, Master Cyrus. And thank you, again. I just wouldn’t want to inconvenience you more than I have already.”
(His gaze kept dropping to the bag. Too small to be food, too big to be a card pack. A book perhaps? Stationery?)
It did help with his act that Cyrus was genuine.
Cyrus, as if to demonstrate his sincerity, was visibly befuddled by Sethos’ easy smile, so much of Cyno in the wrinkle of his frown. “Was Cyno’s old room uncomfortable?” he asked, looking back at the room’s closed door as if to confirm his suspicions.
Sethos laughed, finally pushing past him. “I told you already, sir, these new lodgings were arranged by the Akademiya. I’d just come in earlier to… acclimate to the humidity. A day’s worth of rest before discussions, that’s all. Nothing wrong with Cyno’s room.”
Sethos crossed past the kitchen-living room, nodding towards the visitors Cyrus had over. “Good morning!” he greeted. The old woman— Hadi, Cyrus had called her— gave him a smile. The one with the glasses to Hadi’s left gave him a wave.
Then, to Cyrus, “I really am grateful that you took me in on such short notice from Cyno, but any longer and I’d be imposing.”
Hey, at least he even stayed for breakfast.
Cyrus huffed, stubborn and petulant as he followed Sethos out of the hall. “I should get to decide that. And what expenses should the Akademiya be spending when they’re providing you with custom made lodgings for bureaucrats. They’re not spending a single mora on you, trust me!”
“Oh, save it, Cyrus. Let the boy be on his way,” said the bespectacled one with the big booming voice.
Sethos gave them and Cyrus a sheepish smile as he stopped by the foyer. “I could drop by before I return home?”
Cyrus crossed his arms, then waved in concession, perhaps finally seeing this for the losing fight that it was.
“This… bee line you’re making for the exit. It’s unmistakable,” he said ominously. He sighed. “Alright, don’t let me keep you. Stay safe, Sethos.”
He nodded, huffing in relief as he turned for the door.
“And if you want any food, just drop by, yeah?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll keep it in mind,” he lied easily.
A hand grabbed at his arm, quickly darting away as he turned.
Cyrus held up the bag.
Curiosity nipped at Sethos’ heels and the shape of the letters of his following words. “Uh, is there anything else, sir?”
A conflicting look crossed Cyrus’ face. Then, it was gone, lightning-fast, and just as disorienting. He reached into the bag instead, and daintily pulled out…
“S-sir, that’s too much,” Sethos stammered, taking a step back, his pack hitting the doorjamb.
Cyrus reached over his head and hung the strap behind his neck. “This Kamera is durable, don’t worry about being rough with it. But, it’s just rotting here and I have plenty of memories I’ve made and remembered with it already. I figured to pay me back for last night, take it off my hands, eh?”
His voice cracked, nervousness melting away his practiced ease. “Shouldn’t I be the one to give you something?”
“Then, do me a favor and take it off my hands.” Cyrus stepped back to regard his handiwork.
The old Kamera had a hefty weight to it. Sethos brought one of his hands up to hold it.
Should he tell Cyrus that he didn’t know how this thing even worked?
Cyrus smiled.
His mouth dried.
Sethos looked back down at the Kamera.
“Make new memories in the city, okay, son?”
Son?
“And don’t be a stranger, Sethos.”
With that cue, even with his own befuddlement, Sethos nodded, turned, and left the house.
It was hard not to burst out laughing in front of the Mahamata when they opened the door to his lodgings and it smelled exactly like the day after the Temple had cleaned up Bamoun’s room.
Luckily, he managed to hold it in.
Panah seemed like a nice guy, and Sethos would have hated lying to him about this oddity.
“Would you be needing anything else, Lord Sethos?”
He almost raised a hand to wave the guy off, but then he paused.
“Uh, so, you wouldn’t happen to know a place I can find a manual for this thing, would you?” Sethos gestured to the Kamera hanging from his neck.
Panah lowered his head a little, perusing the device without getting into Sethos’ space. “I think… we may have a few old manuals in the House of Daena. I believe the General has told you you’ve been given access to the library?”
“More or less.” Cyno was very, very insistent that he was not allowed to submit any of his own criticisms to the conservator— the Akademiya’s version of an archivist. It seems he deemed it pertinent to note that the Temple’s archiving system was different from theirs. Sethos was convinced he was just sensitive about it.
Panah was ignorant of whatever memories Sethos was looking back on. “Well, I think if you look under the Kamera, you’d see the model and you can ask around.”
“Alright, alright. Thanks, Panah. Meeting’s this afternoon, right?”
Panah nodded. “I believe the meeting will still be in the Grand Sage’s office, so you will be passing through the House of Daena on your way in and out.”
“Good to know. Okay, have you had breakfast, Panah? I know a guy down by Lambad’s that sells some great shawarma. It’ll be a quick trip.”
Panah shook his head, sheepish. “That’s very considerate, my lord, but I still have work to attend to.”
“Surely nothing so pressing that you’d have to starve yourself,” Sethos blinked, aiming for doe-eyed. He didn’t know if it took, he usually only used it on Betresa when she was being especially overbearing.
Panah flushed. “Uh, no, nothing like that. I would just prefer to finish it sooner than later, is all. I, uh… it’s actually Scribework.” He lifted his bag.
Sethos put his pack down. “Well, that’s perfectly fine! I’ll go buy us some food and you can work here while we eat. How’s that sound?”
“Lord Sethos is very kind. If you insist then, I’ll be imposing.”
“Not at all,” he said. “Find yourself a seat and make yourself at home. You said there was complimentary coffee in the pantry, right? Go make us some, I’ll go get us some tulumba to go from Puspa’s.”
Anything but being alone here with that stench.
It was a long, long elevator ride up to the Grand Sage’s office, which, according to Cyno:
“We’ve yet to get a replacement Grand Sage. Right now, though it’s inappropriate, because of how unprecedented it is, Lesser Lord Kusanali has been holding the role down until the Sages find someone suitable.”
Sethos winced in sympathy. “I can only imagine how hard that could be. Good thing you decided for the Temple so fast, huh? I’d hate having to go through the circus of having our elders decide after you left.”
Cyno gave him a look. Sethos thought he had a pretty good read on Cyno thus far, but there were times like these that made him wonder how much of that was his own pride and rose-tinted memories speaking.
After a moment, “How long is this elevator?”
“What do you mean? We’re already here,” Cyno said as they came to a stop and Sethos had to pause to look up at the thing hovering over them. Up the stairs, there were shelves and shelves of, on closer look, annual reports on the city, annual reports for the academic years, annual reports for the state of Sumeru.
“Welcome, you two. That’s all we need in attendance, no?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Sethos was pulled from his thoughts, and his eyes landed on the glowing child sitting in the largest chair he’d seen in his life.
Cyno bowed in greeting, so, with a glance, Sethos followed suit.
He’d seen statues of The Seven before. There were two within a day’s walk from the Temple of Silence that he’d walked by once or twice. He knew, factually, that the Celestia-assigned seat of wisdom was Sumeru City’s god, and that she was one of the oldest there was. She was even there during Al-Ahmar’s time, blessed be.
Seeing the child sitting in this huge seat in this surreal office was not at all the same as seeing the figure sitting on her statue.
She giggled.
That really was just a kid.
“My lord?” asked the huge Scribe by her seat, bending a little to check on her. The guy with the ornate hat to her right glared at him, someone Sethos vaguely remembered trying to talk to in passing.
Lesser Lord Kusanali shook her head, smile blooming on her face as if she was privy to Sethos’ thoughts. “Um, it’s nothing. It’s nice to finally meet you, Lord Sethos.” She looked up to meet Sethos’ gaze and—
Okay, so, that wasn’t just a kid.
“Pleasure’s all mine. And, please, Lord Kusanali, just Sethos is fine,” he finally said, lowering his gaze in respect.
“Well, this meeting is more for your sake, isn’t it? I understand the Akademiya has done many wrong things to have driven the Temple to isolation. I would like to formally apologize for this. If this becomes a partnership of equals, we must be able to admit to our shortcomings and repair these bonds. Cyno told me you’ve brought the records?”
“The abridged list,” Sethos clarified, reaching into his pack. “We can’t bring records outside the Temple. I hope that’s fine.”
“That’s quite alright. Scribe Alhaitham also has a list of his own. Though…” She looked to the man on her left, a sheepish wince on her face.
“The verifiability of these records are suspect,” Scribe Alhaitham said. He was tall, in comparison to his two companions, with his robes wrinkled and askew, as if he almost never wore it. Most striking, really, was how flat his tone was as he spoke. “Records from this century of the Akademiya have seemed deceivingly squeaky clean, but I made sure to triple-check. Madam Faruzan was willing to lend her assistance in this regard, as the Grand Sage at the time had been Haravatat’s Sage.”
Madam Faruzan… the researcher? Sethos had met her, once, but he thought the rumors about her being from a century ago were false.
Go figure.
With an expectant brow raised from Alhaitham’s face, Sethos snapped out of his thoughts.
He stepped towards the wide table before them and found that he had to strain to see Lesser Lord Kusanali from where she sat. He held the notes from his pack aloft, looking between Cyno, Alhaitham, and the guy in the corner.
Hat Guy shifted, walking forward with the sound of bells and accessories jingling. He grabbed the papers and skimmed through the list with nothing but a frown.
He figured there’d be someone transcribing this meeting, and Cyno was here because he was the one who insisted on formalities in the first place, but who the hell even was this guy? Sethos figured he wasn’t just some scholar, but to be important enough to be in meetings with the nation’s god?
“A scholar from Vahumana,” Cyno offered, voice barely above a whisper next to his ear. “Think of him as… Lesser Lord Kusanali’s advisor for this meeting.”
He nodded numbly.
Hat Guy cut in, tone sharp, “Do you have any records of the leader at the time?”
Sethos thought back to all the records they had on Amina or As’ad. “Like… work-related incidents? I don’t have spending records, if that’s what you’re asking. The leaders don’t have access to that. In terms of the last century of interaction with the Akademiya, that’s all we had.”
“How do you get compensated as leader then?” Alhaitham asked. “Someone else pays you?”
Sethos shook his head. “We don’t get paid? I mean, I live at the Temple, what are they gonna give me, lodgings? Food? Special access to certain files? We’re an archival organization, it’s not going to pay in bags of mora. Chances of corruption via greed are exceedingly low that way.”
Hat Guy gave him a onceover, then asked, “Any transactions with any mercenary tribes? Fatui operatives?”
Sethos gave it a moment, in case anyone wanted to tell the guy to knock it off. But four pairs of eyes just waited for his response patiently. So, slowly, he answered, “If I’m catching what you’re saying, I don’t think that’s the sort of stuff anyone’s going to want to keep in accessible records. If it would even happen.”
“Why wouldn’t it happen,” argued Cyno. “You have defectors like my master.”
He took a deep breath. He glanced at Lesser Lord Kusanali, whose curious eyes seemed to hang onto his every word. “You’re all principled scholars in this room, no? Is there a system in place for scholars who, say, sell findings of their illegal research?”
Cyno nodded. “Trial before the sages, expulsion, and arrest. We seize the profits and arrest the people buying. There’s extra parameters in place if they’ve sold to a foreign investor or used it to buy other things. They’re required to pay any victims.”
How soft.
Though, perhaps he shouldn’t judge prematurely. The Akademiya wasn’t beholden to the zeal of the Temple.
“Archiving knowledge in the Temple is a religious duty,” Sethos said, crossing his arms. “Most of the work, even as leaders, is voluntary. It’s very hard to deny your duty when you have the literal spirit of Hermanubis in you.
“If you sell any piece of information, we have our own parameters to safeguard against its departure from our premises. Our records have ancient security systems that predates our need to record the leaders’ names, set by Lord Hermanubis himself. We’ve lost the practice to most of them but the ones we still maintain have kept up. Nothing leaves that isn’t already permitted to leave by everyone in the council and the leader. Something we would have to talk about at length, for this merger.”
“So if there were infractions, you wouldn’t need to dig deep if there were records,” Alhaitham summarized, writing something down on his clipboard. “How thorough.”
“Thanks?”
Hat Guy glared through him, though it seemed more that he was lost in thought than him being pissed at anything Sethos said. “Where do the leaders go after retiring?”
“None of them leave,” Sethos answered, looking around the hall. He moved to lean against the table a bit and settled more of his weight when he felt that it could take it. “Become leader and you’re set for life. We even have everyone’s tombs down there.”
A silence fell over the room so thick Sethos could probably sit on it. He could almost laugh, if it didn’t make him feel just the least bit scared.
“Well,” Hat Guy cut in. “The Scribe’s research was on point with these records. Our sages were slowing use to the Temple of Silence when they started compiling everything into knowledge capsules. It was more of a difference in motives and methods. What use is a disposal organization if all we did was restrict access to the Matra instead? It delegates the power of disposal and access to forbidden knowledge to the sages instead of this… neutral third-party.”
“So we took over their role so the power could be funneled to the sages,” Cyno supplied, just short of seething, judging from the flatness of his tone. “We’ve mostly been using the Temple’s quarters for archiving court proceedings on illegal research. Most of the actual research has gone to Lesser Lord Kusanali’s archives… Which were only ever accessible by the sages until recently.”
He took a breath after that, as if reigning himself in.
Alhaitham ignored him, but Hat Guy in his corner seemed just a little pissed as well.
“Sachin’s research, for example,” Lesser Lord Kusanali added, calm despite the tempers rising around her. “Reinstating the Temple’s role is easier, since their rooms and archives are still available. We just have to shift things around. Alhaitham, please note that we need to tally any unused rooms near the Matra’s offices. Though… Sethos, may I ask?”
Sethos straightened up, plastering a smile on his face as he turned to face her. “Yes, my lord. Ask away.”
“You brought up that access to the records would be a concern when talking about this partnership.”
He nodded. “Evidently, whoever’s doing the hand-off would have to have access to the archivists. And whoever’s in charge of our archives will have to know whether the records are to be kept or disposed of. If it’s the latter, let them do their due diligence and provide whatever information they may need. If it’s the former, uh… we’ll need Cyno.”
“Me?”
Sethos turned to him, feeling a little sheepish when he said, “That ‘ancient security system’ I was talking about? Hermanubis ritual. You’re the one who has to seal these records to make sure they never leave the archives without you knowing. The ritual will do that for you. Whatever records leave the archives without your explicit consent and other parameters I see fit as the Temple’s representative, you’ll be able to locate yourself. What you do after that is your prerogative as General, I think. We’ll just need the document back.”
Cyno’s face shuttered, and there it was again, that same look he had in the elevator.
“I’ll teach you,” Sethos said, low enough that he knew only anyone with Hermanubis’ blessing would be able to hear.
“Just delegate your roles, General,” were the dismissive words from Alhaitham. “I have no idea why you even still insist on taking on so much when you’re not being hounded by Azar anymore. You’re not beholden to solving cases that you couldn’t give to your subordinates. All you really have to do is sign the paperwork in time.”
In response to this, Cyno’s brow furrowed, the exact replica of Cyrus’ concerned frown. His eyes flit from Sethos to Lesser Lord Kusanali.
Uncertainty, Sethos realized. Hesitation was what that look meant.
No wonder he found it so odd a look on Cyno. He’d never seen the man hesitate since they reunited. That was a look better suited for a Cyno before the fragments.
“We’ll give you time to think about it,” Lesser Lord Kusanali reassured, gentle and patient. “It’s just important that we resolve this issue before the merger. We can reconvene in a couple days and talk about it, okay? Scribe Alhaitham, was there anything else to discuss?”
“The desert programs, my lord.”
“Right. Sethos, if I could ask for your assistance in this. We’ll be sure to compensate you or any of your archivists for their time and commitment, if they’re willing. This won’t be volunteer work.”
Sethos’ gaze lingered on Cyno before turning back to Lesser Lord Kusanali. “Yes? Anything I can help with?”
“Do you happen to have any personnel from the Temple available for… well, we’re trying to synthesize new lesson plans for the desert education programs every year and we figured, if there was anything we’d missed, you might be able to supervise it.”
“Desert education program… Yes, I think our scouts have mentioned it.”
“We’ll stop from here. I’ll be sure to send someone to summon you all for the next meeting, okay? And Alhaitham, send me a copy of this meeting’s minutes by… when’s the soonest you can do it?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, my lord.”
“Then, tomorrow afternoon. Thank you!”
All three of them bowed in unison.
Then, “Um, Sethos, could you stay behind for a bit?”
He straightened from his bow to find that both Cyno and Alhaitham had already started heading for the elevator.
“Sure, my lord.”
Leser Lord Kusanali pushed herself off her seat and, impossible, the shape of two normal-sized chairs in Dendro green blinked into existence before the wide table. “Take a seat. Standing around must have been straining. Sorry, I’ll remember to ask for chairs for the next meeting. I didn’t mean for it to go on for so long.”
Even though all five of them spent it leaning against the large table? “Uh, thank you and. I don’t really mind, my lord.”
She shook her head, walking around and climbing onto the chair on the right. “You can just call me Nahida. This isn’t anything official. I just wanted to get to know you!”
A personal meeting with a god was still kind of grounds for formality, Sethos didn’t say, but he took the remaining seat and found that it felt exactly like a wooden chair.
“And besides,” Nahida said cheerfully. “Our tea isn’t done.”
“Oh, well, we can’t let all this go to waste,” Sethos joked, grabbing his unfinished cup of spiced tea.
Nahida giggled, thanking him when he handed her her own unfinished cup.
“How have you been,” she asked, eyes wide with a genuine sincerity Sethos wasn’t used to quite yet. “I’ve heard from Panah that you’ve been a very generous host. I guess you like the lodgings. Have you been liking Sumeru City thus far?”
Sethos’ leg shook a little. He didn’t know how much he was allowed to not say to the crowned God of Wisdom. “It’s… not really my first time. The people are nice, the food is good. I didn’t know most beds were this soft. It’s really humid and it’s wreaking havoc with my hair. Otherwise, it’s been lovely.”
“How wonderful!” She said it with so much sincerity, Sethos couldn’t help but crack a real smile. “I’m glad you’ve been treated well. Your first time was…?”
“When I summoned Cyno, way back. About a month ago, if I remember correctly. It was… a little overwhelming when I first came here. Like, Caravan Ribat was one thing, but this was… Whew.”
“So I’ve heard. I know someone who had the same sentiments,” she said, with a fond look that made Sethos lean forward in his seat a little. There was a story behind that look that had him holding himself back from asking about it. “How’d you manage, that first time? If you don’t mind sharing.”
“It was the caravan I was with, actually. Some real solid dudes. They’ve been traveling around doing this stage play— Prince Qubad? They were short on actors so I volunteered since I was familiar with the story. Seems that wasn’t the first time they’ve asked for audience participation. That was pretty fun.”
“Ooh! I would want to come see it one day,” she said moving her hands up as if to clap but pausing last minute, remembering that she had a cup of tea.
“I’ll try to ask around if they’re doing one down at Zubayr,” he offered. “Though, you won’t have me acting.”
Nahida nodded. “Of course, that would be asking too much.”
They looked at each other, then Sethos broke it by chuckling.
After catching his breath, he added, “The troupe was nice enough to bring me here, offered me drinks at Lambad’s, even asked if I had a place to stay.”
It was probably the nicest and most genuine people have been around him, barring even Bamoun in those rare, isolated moments— those morning hunts and quiet moments in the evening when Bamoun’s pains flared up and he didn’t want to be alone.
He hoped he found more and more of those people in Sumeru City.
“Lo— Uh, Nahida.”
“Yes?”
He opened his mouth to…
To what, exactly?
He didn’t know. At least, not quite yet. But he felt, with increasing urgency, that he ought to use this chance of a private audience with a god of wisdom to… seek guidance. Or perhaps just ask for advice.
“Sethos?”
He stared at the stained glass windows towering over them, as if finding a pattern in their lights and shadows could have possibly given him the exact question to ask. “Never mind. It’s…”
He shook his head, then met her eyes again, wide with genuine concern and patience. “It’s getting a little late, Nahida. Do you want to… Should I walk you back to where you’re staying?”
“Oh, um.” At that, Nahida seemed a little unsure, so unlike before.
“Is that too much?” Had he overstepped anywhere? Was it not courteous to offer to walk someone back after a personal meeting like this?
Nahida put her tea down and waved her hands as she shook her head, seeming urgent in denying this line of thought. “No, no! I just… wanted to take our time with this, is all.”
She looked down at the tea and the rest of the treats, untouched on the table. “I’d love to have a new friend,” she said, almost a whisper with how small her voice had gotten.
Sethos felt a smile break free from the last remaining thread of restraint he had left.
It seemed that, in many ways— some of which actually did matter to Sethos— Sumeru’s god of wisdom was still a bit of a child. If only because of her uncertainty.
It was no wonder that Cyno would rally behind such a fledgling deity despite his origins, that a man who followed his principles so completely would support a god not of his birthplace.
He felt himself, impossibly, a little charmed.
And maybe a little envious.
“We can chat as we walk!” He gestured at the table. “Want to take the halva to go?”
Nahida looked up at Sethos with wide, imploring eyes, all the child she seemed to be at that moment. “You don’t mind?”
“’Course not! I’m still a little new around here, so I’d love to have a new friend too.”
“So… Nahida.”
“Mh-hm?” Nahida was chewing the bit of halva they brought with them as they made the trek back to where she was staying. There was a bit of it on her cheek.
“That… guy from earlier. The… advisor from Vahumana, was it?”
Nahida swallowed. “Mm, Kasacchi.”
“Kasacchi… hm.”
“It’s— he’s Inazuman. Though… I guess language barriers would make his name sound a little off. It means… hat guy? Sort of? More umbrella guy but I think Hat Guy sounds better.”
He looked down at her.
“You’re serious.”
“A hundred percent. I wouldn’t lie about his name. Besides, Kasacchi— or Hat Guy, if you prefer— needs more friends. Just like us!”
He didn’t know if Nahida knew how much of that was a backhanded insult.
With a huff, he continued, “I’ve just seen him around, a couple times in passing. He’s usually talking to someone then flying past. There one moment, gone the next. Like today, before the meeting, I was actually running an errand for this guy Jafar. Apparently he’s real tired as is, so I asked him if there was anything I could do for him and he said there was this book way up top that he couldn’t reach.
“And while I was asking around for the conservator in case they had a ladder for that kind of thing, I saw… Uh, Hat Guy just swoop on in and grab a book from way above my head.”
Nahida huffed. “I told him flying is forbidden in the House of Daena.”
He laughed at that.
Nahida waved a hand, gesturing for him to continue.
“Anyway, I tried to ask him to go get Jafar’s book for me but… the conservator already grabbed a ladder for me and by the time I handed it off to Jafar, Hat Guy was gone and Cyno arrived to drag me up for the meeting. Time flies when you’re helping around, y’know? I just wanted to stop him and see the hat up close. I didn’t know he was gonna be sitting in for our meeting. Or that he was a student, actually.”
Nahida gave him a knowing look. “I see.”
Sethos scoffed. “C’mon, it’s genuine interest. He has a really pretty hat.”
“Among other things, I’m sure,” she said, biting off a piece of halva this time instead of devouring the whole square. “So… Sethos.”
He looked off one of the railings, out west towards the desert.
The sun was setting, setting the Sumeran skies ablaze, the same color of the desert skies for years until recently— a phenomenon of the ruins they haven’t managed to pinpoint the reason for.
They’d been in that meeting for far too long, it seemed.
Just the sight of the setting sun made him feel a pang of homesickness so strong, it left him breathless, stunned.
“Sethos?”
“Yeah? I’m listening.”
“You told us we could go for as long as a month for the merger meetings, right?”
A month.
That was the longest he gave himself to take off for mourning, was what he hadn’t told Cyno when he gave them the time limit.
A month away from the Temple where, for a majority of his days, he could just be Sethos, the late Bamoun’s grandson and not Sethos, the de facto leader of the Temple of Silence.
It was a little unreasonable of him, but after a few weeks of playing to the tune of leadership nonstop since Cyno handed off the position to him, he hasn’t had the time to deflate.
Being back in Sumeru City for this, he didn’t think he knew how to anymore.
He used to, behind closed doors.
The months before Bamoun’s death were a constant switching of roles— Sethos, the de facto leader; Sethos, the nurse; Sethos, the lead hunter; Sethos, the archivist. But in the mornings when Bamoun had no strength to go on hunts with him… In the evenings, when Bamoun was fast asleep in his own bed while Sethos laid on the floor next to it…
Those times, he’d decompress, he’d press his back flat against the ground, he closed his eyes and imagined he was just one of the grains of sand flying past on cold, windy desert nights.
He struggled, a bit, to pull his gaze away from the blazing skies and the sun setting in the horizon and towards Nahida’s expectant gaze after that train of thought departed.
He gestured forward, telling her to lead the way.
He hurriedly tried to remember her last question as she walked forward, watching the way her cape whipped around in the wind.
“... I did say a month, yeah. As leader, I was ready to accept whatever terms were given, within reason. All we really needed in exchange were, well, resources. Human, food, you name it. It’ll take some chipping at the elders, whoever are left after Cyno passed his duties on, but then Cyno asked that I formally and officially introduce myself in person. So, here we are. It’d be a waste to just be here for a few days then come back so. A month, at the longest.”
“Sethos…”
“Hm?”
“I hope I’m not overstepping here,” Nahida started, pausing in her steps up the ramp to turn and face him. Like this, they were face to face, leveled out so they wouldn’t have to look up or down. “But the Traveler once told me that sometimes, when things don’t go my way, I’m allowed to be upset by it.”
So, Cyno told her about what happened.
He didn’t know why he was surprised.
“All due respect, my lord, but being upset won’t make it go away.”
Nahida frowned. “I don’t think forcing yourself to not be upset about it would make it go away either. You’re like a hermit crab, clinging desperately to an old shell. You continue that way for too long, it won’t end well for you. So while you have the foresight, let go before a storm hits. If you need help or time, or, maybe, just someone who won’t judge you for your emotions, you can ask.”
He blanched at the idea of asking the appointed Archon of Sumeru for something like this. Though most people use her name throughout their day as if it was currency for their prayers, he wasn’t devout. And he wasn’t devout to her, for that matter.
He didn’t think relying on her for it was going to get easier now that he really knew her. His bitterness was not something easily quelled by a bit of time off. If he wasn’t careful, it could end up pushing people away in ways that made his skin crawl.
As if sensing his hesitation, she sighed. “Or… maybe just stop shouldering this leadership for a while. Ask Cyno for help, since the Temple is both your responsibilities. I’m sure he would agree and even help you out more, if you told him how much of this has inconvenienced you. He’s been in a similar predicament before.”
His brows raised at that. “Him?” That didn’t sound like the man who pulled up to the Temple with two uninvolved people.
Nahida looked beyond the railing at the desert as well, the wind whipping past them. “The last set of sages we had. Once they realized that Cyno was working under divine ethics beyond their comprehension, they used that to their advantage. Sent him to work on high profile cases that would keep him from auditing them, long trips that would take him out of the country. He’s still unused to a normal General Mahamatra’s workflow because of it.
“And despite the loved ones in his life, he chose to exile himself instead of seeking refuge. He had… someone back home who, at the time, had Eleazar. And instead of going to them, instead of hiding in the first place the sages would look, he struck out to Aaru Village, where he met the people who would end up saving me.”
“You?”
She giggled, as if sharing a secret, finally meeting Sethos’ gaze. “Haven’t you heard? I’ve only been Sumeru’s official Archon for about two years. I’m as new to this as you are to being the Temple’s leader, as Cyno is to being a General Mahamatra. The leaders of the oldest organizations in Sumeru, led by budding sprouts. I suppose that’s what the poets call irony.”
Finally, she handed him the last slice of halva on her plate.
He took it from her fingers, a little dazed.
“So, don’t be a stranger, alright? We have to make sure that our organizations don’t degrade completely from machinations of old. When one of us needs to take a break, the rest of us have to pull each other up. Okay? Just think of it as… oh, giving us errands to run!”
Sethos nodded numbly.
“Sethos?”
He cleared his throat of the stickiness forming in the back of it. He smiled, a small, vulnerable thing. “Yes. Yeah. Okay, Nahida. I’d… I’d love that.”
“Well!” She said, starting back up the ramp with a skip to her step. “Since you’re new to Sumeru, if you need a guide around the city and don’t want to bother Cyno, I can tell you where Kasacchi is working so you can visit him! But only if you don’t tell him how you found out. Promise?”
He laughed, light and easy, genuine this time. “I swear on my life, Nahida.”
Man, did the people of Sumeru know their Archon was such a riot?
He jogged up to walk by her side. “Hey, let’s meet up again next time, yeah? Better yet, I can host!”
“Really?”
“’Course! Just say when.”
