Chapter Text
(Credits to : Armram99 on Reddit for the background photo.)
The morning air of the waterway was soft and luminous, scented with damp moss and the gentle steam rising from incense burning somewhere near the bank of the waterway. Above you, the light blue sky was a flawless canvas, allowing the sun to detail the intricate roof, which already glowed in the distance. Even from the boat, it promised a fresh start, seemingly set in stone for good fortune.
It's officially my fourth year here in the Akademiya. Wonder what dilemma's will kill me this year?
A sudden, warm weight snapped you out of your thoughts.
“You take care, alright, ____?”
His eyes were the kind that seemed to notice every shift in the currents literally or figuratively, which held a flicker of genuine warmth ; this yearly exchange had become an unexpected ritual, living a long distance from the city meant every school year began with a boat journey back to the Akademiya’s stress, on top of another boat journey back home to Port Ormos.
Somehow, he sensed the quiet tension that always coiled around you as the city's port came into view, his simple, repeated blessing was enough to make you feel briefly at ease. He came from Port Ormos, just like you, a husband and father, you'd heard, who only visited Sumeru City for work. A true outsider, who only entered Sumeru City when necessary, much like yourself.
I forgot to reply to what he said out of getting too caught in your own thoughts.
“I assure you, I will,” you replied, trying to steady the nervousness in your voice as you gathered your things. “I just hope I won't be given another unheard of topic. I'd have to spend ages in the House of Daena searching until I get white hair.”
You knew you'd manage the challenges, as you always did.
“Hah! Who knows? Perhaps I'll see you again when you're old and crippled.” He teased you lightheartedly, noticing the unease and trying to get you to relax.
“Hah, I hope not.” You chuckled, still feeling a tad bit anxious, although it was lesser compared to earlier because of him. You started to wonder how some people just radiate positivity.
As the gangplank thudded onto the ancient cobblestones, the brief calm of the waterways faded ; air in Sumeru City was already thick with the scent of spices and more oppressively, the presence of brilliant competitive minds. Not entirely those of scholars, Sumeru's the Nation of Wisdom after all.
Another year came another twelve months of pressure and the crushing expectation that came with being a Haravatat scholar whose roots lay in a place other than the city. First thing that came to your mind was to counteract the tension, so you followed the pathway to Treasures Street, where you recalled Lambad’s Tavern was located ; a place you'd visited numerous times each school year for eating and studying.
I should visit after classes as I chiefly do.
You adjusted the strap of your bag along with your satchel and stepped fully onto the wide, spiraling pathways. The familiar, overwhelming noise of chatter, bargaining, and gossip whether academic or not, overwhelmed you.
While making your way through Treasures Street, you heard a distant sound of a Kshahrewar scholar testing their newest triangular mechanism similar in appearance to those in the desert, only to be met by the sound of its instant breakdown echoing moments later. You were unable to stifle a giggle at the quick moment before continuing your ascent.
Someone should've told him he can't be the next King Deshret, so many pompous scholars in Sumeru..
Before heading deeper into the spiral of pathways that led to the Mahamata's guarded building, a short stop was made to a local stall close to Lambad's Tavern. You purchased a small clutch of Zaytun peaches, famous for its calming effect on the mind – slipping one into your satchel.
You continued to make your way to the Mahamata's area, however you paused, watching the relentless flow of scholars. Some opportunistic first years and some exhausted seniors, all of them were driven by the same devotion to study.
This was your temporary home, a place of endless research where history was revealed and the meaning of every word was debated with passion. It offered prestige, a hard contrast to the simple life you had known.
The Mahamata's usual patrol building was passed with a quickened step before turning left toward the big ascending spiraling pathway filled with scholars, the main way to get to Akademiya, unless a scholar wanted to take the longer route.
Upon arriving at Akademiya's steps, the building offered a welcoming break from the scorching heat of the sun. Amidst the scholars, a relatively empty spot was found to retrieve and check the syllabus for the lecture today. Disappointed in yourself for not checking sooner before leaving. Digging a hand through the bag, the leather, emerald colored notebook was found with the details written down in it.
A quick glance at the watch strapped to your wrist confirmed the time.
“Ten fourty am. I’ve got five minutes until my first class of Haravatat starts.”
You walked toward the large, angled, circular door of the Haravatat classrooms. Its symbol on the top was of a black bull like figure.
Haravatat was the Darshan scholars enrolled the least in, true enough. No sane person would willingly sign up to master at least twenty ancient and forgotten languages before graduation. Most other Darshans considered that a form of torture, albeit insane isn't something you'd describe yourself as, mainly you were deeply committed ; perhaps too much..
Although, this time the sight in front of you made your eyes widen in disbelief.
Only a total of ten students were inside the spacious high ceilinged classroom.
“How absurd,” you thought, your mind considering a lot of possibilities. Was the schedule posted incorrectly? You tried to rationalize, coming into conclusion that everyone else dropped out.
You took your seat, settling your satchel and bag beside you. When the lecturer, a fragile-looking man whose passion for Haravatat was crystal clear, began his discourse exactly at ten fourty five am, no one else arrived.
Ten students, that was an all time low. Even for Haravatat.
Pretty obvious why, Haravatat focused on deciphering ancient mechanics and technological context, a field other Darshans were rapidly trying to dissmiss as irrelevant for the current Eleazar situation. It's primary focus was on foundational blueprints of the past, not Kshahrewar's architecture, nor Spantamad's elementalism. With no friends in the Darshan, you fought down a familiar sting of loneliness.
The five hour lecture on the linguistic roots and functional analysis of ancient Ruin texts passed quickly. Focus offered a welcome distraction from the anxiety of arrival. Getting to know each of the ten students would be necessary for the rest of the year.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
When the lecture finally concluded, notes were gathered and essays were passed to the lecturer. Contemplation began on where to spend your free hours. Studying, as usual, seemed the simplest path. Your friends hadn't sent an invitation, which felt strange, though their social lives felt like an exhausting course requirement, you were already dealing with a lot today. It didn't matter that much.
Heading out the Akademiya's main door, you watched as the afternoon sun began its slow descent, embedding the sky over Sumeru City with mesmerizing tones of orange and pink. The heated air of the morning had gone, a gentle breeze began to stir the leaves of the great tree.
I should take to Lambad's Tavern, it's almost dinner after all.
Making your way down to the city, you sought the familiar comfort of Lambad's Tavern. The place was unusual for research, yet the warm light, smell of fresh food and conversations often provided white noise, a relief from your Darshan's uneasy silence.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Quiet table secured, you spreaded out scrolls and pencils. The next few hours passed immersed in your complicated work, cross referencing ancient Sumeru dialects. Work was demanding, still, the task's stability is anchored. It’s predictable.. Unlike people who occupied the world outside texts.
More hours passed. This tavern was prepared to close, lights turning off, your unspoken signal to leave. You packed your things, leaving respectfully.
By this time the moon was high and the city started to quiet down. You were planning on going back to your dormitory, until stopped to realize you needed a few specific volumes along with King Deshret's script which are only accessible in the library.
You headed back toward the Akademiya, where the House of Daena remained open to dedicated or desperate scholars. As much as possible, you avoided going to the library at this hour, mainly because you were truly drained.
The library was deserted, silence here was different from the Haravatat classroom.. It was heavy with the presence of nearly every book ever written in Teyvat, a true pinnacle of Wisdom. You settled into a small, shadowed reading nook, finding the volumes you needed, however…
The books were on the highest shelf, you’d have to climb up the ladder. Unfortunately for you, situations like this almost never ended well. Throughout your time here, the result was either a fall right on your behind or you missed a step and fell, gathering judgemental stares from anyone who was near enough to see the sight.
The library barely has anyone inside since everyone uses the Akasha, the only scholars here need specific citation for their research. But unconveniently for me there always happens to be someone to witness the sight.
Before climbing up the ladder, you took and ate one Zaytun Peach from your satchel to steady yourself. In hopes that maybe, just maybe Celestia might be in your favor, for once in your life. Then, you gripped a nearby wooden ladder to your left, pulling it toward where you were as you took light, cautious steps.
Come on, I’m so close to getting those volumes, better not mess up now. Is there anyone watching?
You extended your trembling hand to grab the volumes required. Subsequently, after taking the books, you held onto the sides of the ladder for dear life. Eventually, you successfully got the volumes you needed without being a laughingstock.
You dropped the first heavy volume on the table, alongside the rest of the volumes.
Next, you sat on the antique oak chair padded with teal cushions ready to clock in for another late night research session out of the countless ones you’ve pulled. This was the price of being dedicated, after all, your family was counting on you to be successful, you couldn’t just crumble because it was hard.
You diligently researched King Deshret's script while hunched and took notes in the same emerald colored leather note book where your syllabus was. Quite fascinating stuff.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Three thirty four am, it’s been hours since you visited, and they’ve started to close some lights in the library due to students leaving. In fact, you should’ve left hours ago. Nevertheless, you didn’t. Finishing your research was satisfying, despite all the energy it took.
You took a deep breath, leaning back in your chair and crossing your legs onto the table, still filled with the books you took and handwritten notes, additionally, the tranquility of the silent night brought you into a peaceful state of mind.
Sadly, that too, was taken from you.
A few meters away, at a large, prominent table near the center aisle, was a figure you instantly recognized. His posture was too stiff, his expression too absorbed, and an unnatural cold radiated from him, a chill that went beyond the air and settled deep in the mind.
His light teal hair stuck out amongst the sea of black, brown, and blond hair. His pupils were a blood red crimson, looking like it's always planning to cause some sort of trouble, which is what he does. You eyed him, noticing his lack of a Darshan hat.
Trainee Dastur Zandik.
Right off the bat, his name alone was horrendous. It meant heretic, it's who he was, undeniably. At the same time, you couldn’t shake off how that was his actual name, and how he basically lived it down.
How unfortunate.
Despite never having formally or properly met him, you knew everything the Akademiya buzzed with. Rumors of the contempt he held for everyone, his arrogance and of his unethical actions.
You knew his presence wasn't good. He’s an embodiment of the dangerous cruelty you've always despised. There wasn't a blasphemous rumor you hadn't had the misfortune of knowing.
He was meticulously drawing a complex, precise schematic on a large piece of parchment. Your blood instantly ran cold, How could someone so casually embody that level of arrogance and cruelty?
The blood that ran cold in your veins quickly faded. Your eyes narrowed, taking in the precise, obsessive focus of his work. The schematic he was drawing wasn't a standard mechanical blueprint, it looked like something utterly immoral.
You gripped the leather straps of your satchel to ground yourself, deciding to pack your books for reference and leave. As you reached for the items on the table his voice low and devoid of warmth, cuts through the silence.
“A rather desperate pursuit for a scholar of the present day.”
He hadn't even looked up, yet he had assessed and dismissed your entire academic focus in a single, perfectly formed sentence. Animosity was instant and mutual.
You indignantly packed your books and notes inside your bag, there was no point in leaving silently now. You pushed yourself off the seat, the scrape on the marble floor startlingly loud. You walked the few steps necessary until you were directly across the aisle from him.
“And yours is a rather pathetic attempt at relevance for an individual who refuses to commit to a single field," you countered, your voice steady despite the adrenaline rush. "You criticize my focus on history, yet you seem to lack the historical context necessary to be anything more than an overly ambitious dilettante.”
Zandik’s hand paused, the charcoal tip hovering over the parchment. He finally raised his head, and those devoid, crimson eyes, fixed on you. His expression was not angry, but mildly curious, as if studying an unusual specimen. He then noticed the black bull like symbol on your Akademiya Darshan hat.
“Ah, the Haravatat Darshan,” he observed, sighing. “Still wasting your energy translating the dead language of failure.”
He set the charcoal down, leaning back slightly. “Dilettante? That suggests I merely dabble. I assure you, my expertise is defined by my capability, not by the borders of a curriculum designed for mediocre scholars who confine themselves to a single Darshan.”
He gestured to the open books scattered on your table, including that script. “You spend your nights cataloging the ruins of King Deshret’s technology. I spend mine constructing things that will make those ruins look like children's toys. The difference, scholar, is application versus archaic appreciation. You seek to understand why the old mechanisms rusted instead of being used, I prefer to create something new that will never go out of date.”
At this rate you were blatantly furious. It was three am, without a remaining filter left in your words, you snapped bitterly at his words.
“So what if I ‘confine’ myself to a singular Darshan? You learn topics from every singular Darshan but the point is, you'll never master anything if you keep this up. You are a jack of all trades, master of none. And what ‘new’ would you create? A new failure perhaps? Or a new reason on why the Akademiya should outcast you even more?”
“That's the only thing you bring to the table either way, so my word of advice is you cannot be talking so ambitiously when quite frankly, you've proven nothing. Don't you dare insult Haravatat when its purpose is to decipher ancient language to know how machines and/or devices work. A topic you would need.”
He sat there, watching your mouth move as if he was counting how many more breaths it took for you to finish a tantrum. A small, amused smirk, appeared on the corner of his lips.
“A truly sentimental retort,” he murmured, picking up his charcoal again. “The master of none fallacy. How wonderfully predictable, you see my versatility as a weakness because your own value is tied to a single narrow expertise.”
He tilted his head, his crimson eyes holding yours. “And you are quite correct, I bring chaos, I bring disruption, and I bring the results the Akademiya desperately needs but is too ethically focused to pursue.”
He glanced at your research table, then back at you, and the amusement was gone, replaced by indifference.
“However,” he continued, his tone shifting to disinterest. “you have made a fundamental error. While the mechanisms you study are useful as historical references, I do not require a translator to understand them. Your Darshan's purpose may be to decipher ancient languages, but my purpose is to bypass them entirely through superior design. Therefore, your skills are a hobby, at best, don't mistake your deciphering as relevant.”
He leaned over his parchment, his interest instantly transferred back to his schematic, finishing up some details. He spoke his final dismissal without looking up, his voice barely a breath.
“You may return to your useless texts now. Your input is emotionally charged, entirely empirically irrelevant. Farewell.” He then rolled up his parchment, finally leaving the library. His steps echoing against the marble floor.
You stood there for a beat longer, feeling his harsh, unemotional evaluation. He hadn't won the argument. He had simply judged your entire emotional investment as “irrelevant” data. You wanted to lash out again, but his utter lack of engagement was more infuriating than any direct insult.
“سیکتیر! (Fuck off.)” You frustratingly cursed under your breath, looking at the door where he had just left.
Turning your back on his arrogance and the damning schematic, you gathered your notes previously forgotten, quickly shoving them into your bag, air in the House of Daena now felt filled by his contempt.
You didn't look back hurrying out of the library and into the freezing dark night, yet the image of that immoral schematic and the sound of his dismissive voice burned into memory. An Academic year had only just begun, and you already made a powerful, dangerous enemy.
On the way back to your dorms, which was thankfully near the Akademiya, you were still in utter disbelief on how you'd managed to be an enemy of the Akademiya's infamous feared outcast, on the first day no less. Hopefully he wouldn't murder you for petty reasons such as an argument of Darshans.
Would he murder someone for something as little as that? You had no clue. You'd heard multiple horrible things surrounding him therefore it was definitely a possibility. A familiar sense of fear engulfed you, though it was gone as soon as it started by a defiant thought, if you were to die, at least it would be from speaking your mind..
Afterward, you opened the door to the entrance of the building, the inviting, familiar scent of Sumerian tea wafted towards you. Someone was awaiting your presence, it was her again.
“Late again, ____?”
“It's only the first day, and you've been too hard on yourself, don't you think?” her voice was mature, gentle and laced with fond exasperation.
The person awaiting you was the kind, mature woman who owned the dorms, Madam كَثُوم (Kalthoum.) She knew your habits, only returning in the dead of the night, and often waited to lecture you on the importance of coming home early and safeguarding your mental well being. You appreciated the concern, of course, but your relentless drive for academic success remained supreme.
“My apologies Madam كلثوم (Kalthoum) I've been trying, believe me. Today was simply not the most pleasant. I came across a certain someone.” At the memory of that infuriating outcast, you frowned deeply.
“Really now? Who was it?”
“My apologies, I humbly decline to delve into specifics tonight. Good night, miss. Or good morning.” You offered a respectful nod, proceeding down the corridor.
Walking into the corridor where multiple dorms hailed, the only thing guiding you was the few dimly lit lamps stuck to each side of the walls. You found the door that was engraved with the words Dorm Fourteen.
Bingo! Now, hopefully they would wake up to the sound of your knocking, since you were still in an irritable mood from earlier combined with your exhaustion, you accidentally banged on the door. It was surprisingly loud, and echoed through the empty corridors. You stood there for a minute already feeling the exhaustion taking a toll on you.
The door creaked open slightly, the moonlight streaming from a nearby window allowed you to glimpse at your housemate, a welcome sight that brought a small measure of relief. Oh, thank Greater Lord Rukkhadevata they woke up even in this ungodly hour.
You were too weary to even muster a proper thank you or an apology. Instead, you stumbled like someone running on the influence, flopping onto the comfy, soft bed ; getting knocked out instantly, lost in the deepest sleep.