Work Text:
“Your Radiance, are you sure about this?”
Marad’s gaze is inscrutable but a faint streak of sweat on his temple betrays him.
“What am I to say to the merchants that won’t receive the rations?”
“Tell them to be grateful that if they fall the Sun will be there to catch them. When I deposed my father, I promised a new era for the Carja, did I not?”
The light from the candles flickers, casting their shadows on the wall. Marad closes his eyes for a brief moment.
“You did, your Luminescence, but the nobles-“
Avad puts his hand up.
“The nobles have been draining my patience, your time and the Sun’s resources. This is but a charity, a gift from the Sun, to ease the suffering of the poor.”
Marad opens his mouth, Avad precedes him.
“That is the message you will relay. You are dismissed.”
Marad bows and disappears into the shadows.
It’s a chilly night in Meridian, the wind blows through the cooling towers of the palace, mercifully pushing the day’s heat out of the stone walls.
The oseram guards salute as Avad approaches and open the door to his chamber. Avad walks by the fresh silk sheets of his bed, crouches down on the cool marble floor and reaches for the third secret compartment under the wooden bed-frame.
He sits down at his desk and unseals the scroll. Agriculture is faring well around the Jewel ( thank the Sun) but they will have to find counter measures for the frequent storms.
The Vanguard’s numbers have increased as planned. This oseram, Telga Vansguardswoman, Avad reads, volunteered to help with the recruitment of women migrating from The Claim. Marad suggests a meeting with her and Avad raises his eyebrow, she must have made quite an impression.
The percentile on the crop yields that will be used for the poor in this new reform Avad is hoping to enact isn’t that high, but it is a test, to weed out the nobles that will make a fuss about it. It’s not long before they start connecting the dots, but if Avad plays his cards just right, when the sun shines in their eyes he’ll know friend from foe.
Avad sits back and rubs his face.
He doesn’t want to think of what will happen to his enemies, but it’s clear now that it is an inevitability. If left to their own devices, the nobles who don’t accept reform will fight tooth and nail, sabotage, conspire and threaten the Sundom until their very last breaths.
The Sun-Priests are another machine to tame, but they’re useful to him now, as messengers to the people, all he has to do is act as piously as possible and work slowly at decentralising their power.
Avad calls for a maid to light the fire, and throws the scroll in it when she leaves the room. He undresses and slips in his night robes, but as per usual, sleep doesn’t come easy.
By feeding them, he hopes to gain the approval of the people and an economic boost, but it won’t mean nothing without a good education that would steer them clear of the conspirators malicious intent. They will have to work on that.
New envoys have to be sent for trade of goods, information and diplomacy to the other tribes. The Carja guards have suffered increased losses from dangerous machines, the water infrastructure needs to be repaired and maintained, the harvest is coming soon, they have just started to recover after the battle and and and.
Avad wonders what his life would have been if only his father hadn’t succumbed to madness and bloodlust. Kadaman would have taken the burden of the Sundom, he would have been free to spend his days in the library or off traveling to distant lands.
Free to turn a blind eye to the suffering of his people.
He shakes his head, what is done is done.
***
Joruf bows and sets the scroll on the table.
The court scribe unseals it and unfurls it. Avad reads Erend’s message, he is glad to know his cousin is alive, but the embassy’s failure sits heavy on his mind.
He leans towards Vanasha at his right:
“Start the preparations for the next embassy.”
“Yes your Radiance.”
He doesn’t like his Captain being away from Meridian, but he trusts Erend’s judgment, and helping with Aloy’s quest is a task that must precede all else.
***
“Your Luminescence, I have to insist!”
Sometimes Avad just likes to mess with Marad.
“Just choose a suitable one and be done with it! You’ll appease the nobles and secure your position with an heir.”
Avad sighs and closes the book he’d been reading.
“Itamen is my heir.”
Marad looks like he wants to hit something.
Avad laughs and heads over to the throne room, the whispers quiet as he approaches.
Four of the most beautiful noblewomen bow when he enters, their fathers doing the same behind them, puffing their chests and twirling their moustaches, proud sellers of their wares. The women don’t look him in the eye, don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t move until he tells them to.
Avad can see Ersa’s presence at the back of the room, laughing her ass off.
He politely declines the offers, using the same old excuse of needing to concentrate on rebuilding the city. The fathers mumble their way out of the throne room, Marad simply shakes his head, accepting defeat.
Gotta think of something else! Unless you want to undo by night what the masons repair during the day!
He almost takes Ersa’s advice, but another idea flashes through his mind, something fun and that will get these people off his back, at least for a while.
***
“I’m sorry, but won’t this create more problems than it intends to solve?”
Vanasha watches as Avad sorts through the clothes laid on the bed.
“Maybe, but the rumours will catch the attention of the nobles, they will scramble trying to find out who’s got the king’s attention. Distracted they hopefully won’t pay mind to a few edicts here or there. Now help me choose something that will suit me best.”
Vanasha looks at him like he’s completely lost his mind, before schooling her expression into something milder. He’s been getting that look a lot lately.
They settle on some of the finest red silks, tied to the waist with a crimson band, embroidered with golden machine wires. The white cream top covers his arms as much as a Carja blouse can, a thin white cape will hide his form and add to the mystery. Golden jewellery adorns his right arm and neck, with a large pendant made from machine armour, as the custom dictates for unmarried noblewomen.
The metal headdress sits low on his forehead, two white horns with golden tips on each side, a translucent veil of the same colour as the cape hangs from it and conceals his face.
Avad was never a particularly hairy man, but they do have to shave his facial hair. They add a modest amount of concealing powder, face paint, and the one thing that will tie everything together: a specially made wig of luscious black locks, tied into a braid.
Vanasha can't help but stare, she hands him a small pocket mirror and Avad is elated, he barely recognizes himself!
His heart beats faster as he closes the door. The plan is to walk to the gardens and then to his chambers with enough time to be seen by the servants.
The fountain’s moonlit water shows a glimpse of his reflection and Avad can’t help the giddiness in his chest.
It’s a silly thing, juvenile really. He stifles the inexplicable desire to skip and twirl in the soft white robes, to feel the drum of his heart running towards freedom, her hand in his.
The two vanguardswomen posted at his door don’t ask any questions, as they were ordered to. Avad collapses on his bed, exhausted.
He smiles to himself.
Maybe Marad is right and he’s completely lost his mind.
***