Chapter Text
For Avad, today was concrete proof that when a situation seemed bleak, matters had an uncanny ability to become worse.
Meridian was still recovering from the Battle of the Alight and the attack on the west gate, while still getting its bearings after the coup on the 13th Sun-King—the very man Avad once proudly called his "father". Murmurs had turned into outright rebellion and defection, and rebellion and defection gave birth to bloodshed. Once the war had ended, in great part due to Aloy of the Nora, such unrest had languished back into whispers and grunts. Fickle and illegitimate, the traditionalists and loyalists claimed. Why else would the once thriving Sundom be subject to division and chaos?
There were times, mostly under clear, balmy nights spent restless in his bed, when Avad wondered if usurping the throne had been a good idea; when he thought that perhaps if he'd advised his older brother toward more discretion and patience, then Kadaman would have made a more efficient 14th Sun-King and that he would have been better suited to bear both the daunting burden of their father's heinous crimes and the weight of carrying their nation forward. It is just until Itamen is of age, is what he often told himself. Yet, the question remained of whether the Carja would survive another onslaught of chaos so soon.
And this… This was certainly chaos.
"Your Radiance?"
Torn away from his dark thoughts, Avad blinked and turned to Blameless Marad, whose bushy eyebrows were turned up in concern while mumbles rose from the court officials, foreign envoys, and men from the Vanguard standing before the dais. True to the concerns of the traditionalists, The Embassy had gone awry and came with the heavy cost of most of the delegation.
And Unyielding Fashav. To have survived five long years of capture only to be felled during what was supposed to be the most important diplomatic event since Cinnabar Sands. Brave Cousin Fashav, a man of keen intellect and insatiable curiosity. How many times had the Sun-Priests scolded him for hiding within the temple libraries and perusing the holy scrolls. How many times had he stolen said scrolls for Avad and read them to him with wonder glittering in his eyes like the Sun's reflection upon water! How many times had they spoken of traveling westward and northward and everywhere together, exploring foreign land and learning about other tribes, far from the harshness of the Sundom. Far from their homeland-turned-cage, the very cage Avad into which had willingly locked himself when he'd accepted the throne.
Avad swallowed. "And the Tenakth?"
"They've got a civil war on their hands, looks like." For a flash of a second, Erend squinted. His injuries must have been worse than reported. "Slaughtered their own, left and right."
Had it been up to his father Jiran, he would have taken advantage of their internal strife and delivered a crushing blow. Then again, it would be simple enough for Avad to use his spy network to infiltrate and subvert and fan the flames of conflict, have them destroy themselves in retaliation for capturing his beloved cousin, for having baited Avad with hope of reunion, of reconciliation and peace between the long-warring nations, only to do away with the only other blood relative he had left aside from Itamen. And those Vanguardsmen whom he'd convinced would be taking a simple trip and back. And then I'd start yet another war we can't afford. The thought was a smoldering ember set to send the land ablaze. Avad inhaled a deep, cooling breath and swallowed the burning coal in his throat.
"What of Commander Nozar?"
"Killed in action. Lawan's in charge of Barren Light now." He swore he heard Erend mutter, "Doin' a much better job at it, too." Avad chose to disregard it.
There went another good soldier. A bit of a mindless drone bound to protocol and tradition, but a good leader nevertheless.
"Marad, instruct the new commander to stay put. This cannot be allowed to escalate."
"As you command."
"Yeah, no need," Erend interjected. "He's locked the place down. No one gets past the western gate. Said he figured you'd want it that way."
"Good, good. Yes." Avad sighed heavily and turned to Irid. "Make the funeral preparations for the fallen. Fashav, he… Unyielding Fashav should be buried alongside my family." Beneath the Alight, with Kadaman. With Avad's beloved mother, the late Queen Consort Rawan. With the bones of Araman the Founder, Amavad the Bounteous, and the majority of the ancestral Radiant Line. "As for Studious Vuadis, may he and his sacred scrolls be buried under the Temple of the Sun. And may the remains of Commander Nozar Arin Khuvaman be given to his family and may his wife and children be compensated with a death gratuity of 50,000 shards."
"At once, Your Radiance."
"Now, regarding the matter of this 'plague'," Marad began. The problems never stopped, did they? Avad willed his jaw not to clench and took a deep breath, lest he give further reason for uneasiness in the court. "Several villages surrounding Barren Light have claimed some disease has been affecting their crop yield. There are reports that it is already widespread in the Forbidden West."
Marad then explained the Red Blight—how it was a strange, malodorous, disease akin to mildew but with sprawling vine-like branches; how it was the Utaru who had named it; how it infected and poisoned and killed plants, wildlife, and humans alike; how envoys claimed three among them succumbed to the illness and one was quarantined outside of the city. It had taken 3 years to take over most of Plainsong and the Clan Lands.
"How far east has it spread?"
An envoy spoke up. "The border villages of the Daunt, Your Radiance. And…"
"And?"
"Sunfall, Your Radiance."
Avad squeezed the sun-warmed armrests on his throne. Shadowfall, the slums he'd fought to uplift and feed, would once again become a tent city full of the sick and dying. His plans to turn that treasonous capital into a haven of learning... withered and embrittled like an overeager sprout in the summer heat.
Marad glanced to his right where Yariki, the Banuk envoy to the Sundom, stood clutching her hands. When she didn't respond, he cleared his throat.
Her dark eyes widened in recognition and she stepped forward. A priest grunted in disapproval. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice—or perhaps like most non-Carja she simply didn't put much stock into the opinions of a clergyman belonging to a creed so foreign to her.
"It's reached the forests of the Cut and parts of Ban-Ur. Swaths of trees, withered. Land animals caught suffocated and poisoned in red vines. Whatever root vegetables and medicinal plants we have…" She shook her head. "For us, life is a test of skill and fitness. But the famine is greater than anything the Banuk have ever known. Only the river weraks have adequate access to food, but there aren't enough fish to preserve for the spring and summer migration period."
"Scholars have observed that the Blight thrives on poor soil. Thus, the clay soils of the Daunt..." Marad trailed off.
And that didn't account what it would do to the southern border. The Jewel. Brightmarket. The Maizelands. The resulting famines would be devastating.
"By the Sun," Avad whispered. For years, it had crept toward the Sundom and they'd remained oblivious to it. And now it had them partially surrounded both to the west, south, and the north and…
He turned his attention to the newest envoy, Nakoa of the Nora. "What of the east? Of the Nora's Sacred Lands?"
Clasping her hands behind her back, she shook her head. "Nothing to report from Valleymeet at this time." And then she added, "Captain Balahn hasn't mentioned anything from Daytower regarding a plague, either."
At least the east was safe. Aloy's people were safe. For the time being, anyway. Until the scholars could find out how it spread and how to stop it, all people regardless of tribal origin would be at risk.
"There is also the matter concerning the floods and the increased machine sightings," Marad continued.
Pitchcliff had previously reported the occasional flash flooding, but it was nothing an Oseram dam and levee system couldn't handle. This time proved to be different. The waters swept away entire mills and homes from the lower levels, leaving 26 people dead and 15 missing.
Marad nodded toward Erend. Another grunt of objection identified the source as being Abiding Jahamin, a traditionalist priest stuck in the 13th regime's frame of mind. His disdain of Avad was open as the fields are to sunlight.
"New ones. Big. Tore a hole straight through the Barren Light fort and ripped men to shreds. Aloy, she took 'em down but Lawan and his men keep having to fight them off away from the breach.
Jahamin raised his arms toward the heavens, his red hood sliding away from his face. "This is surely a sign of the Sun's displeasure!"
"Should we take this as a confession?" Marad crossed his arms with a knowing curl to his mouth.
"You dare accuse a servant of the Sun? The Holy City of Meridian is being defiled with these faithless savages and their heretical ways. And we allow them to walk into the Radiant Palace as if it were one of their huts!"
"Hey, hey, whoa," Erend objected, putting his hands out. "We Oseram have houses. Made out of rock and steel. You know, that's kinda our whole thing? I mean, we DID build that big old elevator because you all couldn't figure out a simple pulley system. Maybe you've seen it? You know, that big bronze thing on the mesa?"
Jahamin puffed up with indignation, his cinnabar robes likening him to a preening macaw. "How long will Meridian continue to be profaned before the Sun casts its harsh, cleansing judgment upon us? How long will these outlanders spit in the face of the Sundom? May the Sun have mercy upon us, its loyal—"
"May your tongue rot in your very mouth, Jahamin!" Irid yelled. "You dare question the will of the Sun and its Speaker?"
"Our way of life is at stake and you all are too blinded by…"
As the priests bickered amongst themselves, a high pitched din pierced Avad's left ear. Shadowed be Dervahl's sonic device. Since that day, Avad's hearing had never been the same again. The ringing would plague him at the most inopportune times, during long days holding court, listening to officials, priests, soldiers and nobles whining and yelling at each other. It almost deafened when having to dodge and evade diplomatic incidents with the tribes upon which his father had inflicted suffering; or whenever he was reminded that he and the Mad Sun-King Jiran shared the same blood.
A wave of nausea churned in his guts and his vision began to blur.
Marad subtly quirked his brow, his way of suggesting action. While Avad was inclined to let his subjects speak more freely than previous kings, this was too much for anyone to abide.
"Enough!" The sheer force of his voice clawed at his vocal cords, unused to shouting. At once, most officials and priests tensed, a relic of terror flashing in their eyes, hearkening back to moments when Jiran's anger was enough to make an individual or entire families disappear. When the courtiers all fell into attention, Avad cleared the itch from his throat. "We cannot allow emotion to cloud the Sun's logical judgment, so you are all dismissed for now. We shall reconvene at sunrise."
As the court cleared, Avad and his entourage made their journey back to his chambers. After dismissing most of them, he stepped out on the balcony and basked in the gold and bronze hues melting into the darkening horizon. The moment he removed his headdress, the pressure on his scalp eased and a cool evening breeze ruffled the sweaty black curls at his temples. The world seemed to be collapsing on him all at once.
Everything he'd worked for, everything he'd sacrificed, everything he'd lost, and for what?
He squeezed the handrail on the balustrades as he doubled over with another wave of nausea, the world beginning to spin around him.
A fresh, herbal scent caught in his nostrils. His stomach could not decide whether it helped or not.
Marad stood a few steps behind him, holding a steaming chalice.
"It is dreamwillow," he said, handing it to him. "The Nora claim it calms the nerves and helps with sleep."
Avad mumbled a thanks before taking a swig of it. Bitterness spread over his tongue, pulling his face into a grimace.
"It is getting worse."
"I am fine, Marad. I simply needed a moment to compose myself."
"And these 'moments' are becoming a little too frequent for my liking."
Avad rolled his eyes. "A pity I enjoy them so." His fingers rubbed circles around his temples. At Marad's insistence, he took a seat on his plush divan and allowed the room to cease spinning. His trusted advisor assumed his place by the balustrade. Lingering. "Now, why don't you tell me your true purpose for being here?"
"Am I not allowed to show concern for my King?" The impassive flicker of Avad's gaze prompted a smirk from Marad. "It would seem my ability for subtlety has dulled. Very well." He turned toward Avad, his hands behind his back. "There is another matter I need to discuss with you. Privately."
More trouble. Perhaps the Sun was displeased with him after all.
"Speak freely."
Marad gave a small grimace. "About the arrangement with Lady Elida Beit Naveer…" Avad groaned. Not again. "I understand this is unpleasant but this matter cannot continue to be unaddressed. You may not intend to keep the throne, but the people need not know. What they do need is to believe their government is stable. And that includes finding a queen consort and attempting to produce an heir. I've already arranged negotiations with nine different women from noble families—"
Avad ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots because perhaps a spot of pain would help relieve the suffocating pressure building in his chest. "And surely there must be one suitable lady, but none thus far. Have you considered I am hopeless in this regard?"
Marad paced in front of him as if Avad hadn't just objected. "Understand that this would be a marriage of convenience for appearances. You do not need to love your consort nor touch her if you do not wish to, so long as the people of Meridian believe it to be so."
Back when Aloy was around, Avad had begun to think that perhaps she would be the one to help him forget. She was capable, intelligent, and strong. But no matter how much he tried to deceive himself, Aloy was not Ersa and would never fill the void his late lover left behind. Distract him to a degree, perhaps. But unlike what Jiran had done with his wives, in order to make Aloy his queen, first she would have to want to marry him. And, as inspiring as Aloy was, she was too free-spirited, too individualistic to ever settle for ruling over a people who would never truly appreciate her. And even if she fell in love with him and the Sun beamed with approval on their union, it would be far too cruel to clip her wings and keep her locked in this cage with him. A person like that was meant for the freedom of the open skies.
"Enough. I wish to rest. You are dismissed."