The trip to Indol was quiet and tense. Addam almost felt like he had already been sentenced and had been sent to Indol in order to atone for his signs by serving the Architect for eleven years. Even Malos' rude comments went ignored by most everyone around them, although with every one of them, Addam felt his jaw get a little more tense, and his grip on the armrest of his chair got a little more tight.
Even when he and Malos were walking to the Questor Amalthus' chambers, no one spoke a word, even as they gawked at the Aegis walking alongside him. A young Indoline greeted them briefly then told them to follow him. He didn't look back once. If Minoth hadn't left, he probably would have been the one greeting them instead. Addam didn't quite know why he left (although he couldn't blame him, regardless of the reason), but in that moment he wished that he didn't. Having an old friend feeding him more information on the way there would have been reassuring.
Speaking of old friends...
Why couldn't Her Majesty have been visiting Hugo? He wouldn't be facing nearly so much uncertainty with him that he was the Urayan king. And he hadn't seen Hugo in a while either. Once all of this was over with, Addam decided he wanted to make a house call. It would be well worth the time. He should take Milton too.
As they were following the Indoline guard, Malos asked: "Who is Amalthus anyway?"
Addam stopped in his tracks. "Did no one ever tell you?" He stared at him. Did he ever tell Malos that? Had he told Malos anything?
Malos stopped too. "All I know about Amalthus is that he's a quaestor. Why do we need to see a quaestor?"
If Malos hadn't made himself so horrible to interact with for the entire trip, Addam would have felt bad for not telling him anything. It was his own fault, he decided. He started to walk again, further away from the Indoline guard so that he would have a harder time hearing him. "He is the one who took the cores—yours and Mythra's—from the World Tree."
"He stole from the god he worships?" Malos asked with no small amount of irony in his tone. "There's not a Hell in the Indoline religion is there?"
"I'm not sure," Addam admitted. "If you'd like, I'm sure someone here would be happy to tell you."
Malos made a face at that. "The last thing I want to do is ask them about the religion they invented for the Architect. He doesn't give a rat's ass about the people here. People in the Indoline religion just want to use it to lord their righteousness over others or try to justify whatever it is they're doing."
"That isn't true," Addam said harshly, then cringed at his tone. He hated losing his patience but Malos was so good at pushing the limits of it. Especially since he had been in such close vicinity to him for such a long time. "You don't get anything from being so condescending except give good cause for others to not like you."
"Are you reprimanding me?" Malos asked disbelievingly. His words sounded caught between insult and amusement.
"Yes," Addam said harshly. "You should—"
"I don't care about humans. You know that." Addam could just hear the roll in his eyes. He felt like he was talking to a teenager. It made him want to slap him, just like His Majesty had done to him when he was a rude teenager.
"People are the only reason that I awoke you at all. The least you could do is respect that. You would still be a Core Crystal if I cared as little as you claim to."
He didn't know if that shut Malos up or not because the Indoline guard announced, "We're here. The Quaestor is waiting for you. Just knock when you're ready." With that, he spun on his heel and left them.
Malos sighed, resigned. Addam hoped that it meant that he was backing off, fucking finally. "What do they worship him for anyway? The Architect."
Addam blinked, nonplussed at the question, any of his frustration having vanished. "What do you mean? Do you not even understand why some people would just want to worship him?" He didn't closely follow the Indoline religion, but he also didn't deny that all creatures should at least be thankful that the Architect created them. He had thought that the Architect's own Blade would believe in the sanctity of him.
Malos scoffed. "If you want to worship him, knock yourselves out. You just won't catch me dead doing anything for him."
"Were... Were you not created to be the Blade of the Architect?"
"No. Where did you get that idea?"
When Addam thought to answer his question, he stopped. Where did that idea come from? Up until recently, people didn't know that the Architect even used Blades. That had never been part of the religion or even children's stories. "I don't know," he admitted. He pursed his lips. "Malos, I apologize for—"
The door they were standing in front of suddenly opened. "You can knock, you know," said the Quaestor. "You needn't stand outside having conversation as if I wasn't here."
Addam made a face at that. "I'm sorry."
"Mythra told me that she was the Blade of the Architect," Amalthus said. "She is also the one who declared herself as the Aegis. These...Blades–" he spared a glance at Malos "–for lack of a better word, did not have a formal name and we needed something to call them. 'Aegis' was as good a name as any."
"I see," Addam replied. That asked more questions than it answered. And even though he was technically one of the best sources for information on the Aegis, it felt like he knew the least. Malos wasn't secretive by any means, but he also evidently knew less than Addam did.
"Come in." Amalthus stood to the side as he gestured for Addam and Malos to enter. When they both passed into the room, he bowed his head respectfully, and then stood in front of his desk. It was covered in papers and salvaged materials. Addam didn't know that he liked to salvage. He didn't seem the type at all. "Thank you for coming to see me."
It's not like I had a choice. "Of course, Quaestor. Thank you for having me here." Addam managed a pleasant smile.
"And thank you, Aegis," Amalthus continued, looking straight at Malos as he spoke. "For agreeing to all of this."
Malos said nothing as he continued to stare at Amalthus. His expression was dangerously close to a sneer.
"Your core colors are different. And you look very different from Mythra," he continued. "She dressed much more...promiscuously. And appeared to be much younger than she actually is."
"Blades' first Drivers influence them the most. What she looks like says a lot more about you than her," Malos said.
"What exactly did you need to talk to us about?" Addam cut in before that particular conversation continue down that route any more.
Amalthus sighed and shook his head. "I told the Urayan king that I wished to ascertain whether or not Indol deems this other Aegis a threat, but the truth is that it doesn't matter," said Amalthus. "Indol's victory over Coeia was because of Mythra. She sank the entire Titan in a single afternoon, and to my understanding, the other Aegis has an even greater capacity of destruction. Should it rampage like Mythra has been, we wouldn't be able to do anything short of pray that whichever one kills us makes our deaths quick and painless."
Addam's stomach twisted. He barely wanted to even be around Malos as he was picturing what he did to chase away Mythra's assault on Uraya. He didn't want to feel that way, especially since he saw that Malos clearly had humanistic qualities. He also just… Malos possessed more power than any single person should, physical or otherwise. And Addam was expected to control one of the most powerful creatures on the face of the earth who didn't seem to have even a drop of altruism in his blood.
"What's your point?" Malos snapped.
"You, Aegis, could become the face of hope against the Aegis. You saved Fonsa Myma and you could save the rest of Alrest too." The expression on Amalthus' face became strange. Addam didn't know what he was
Malos' expression became blank. "I saved Fonsa Myma because my Driver wanted me to. I don't care about what happens to Alrest."
Amalthus turned his attention to Addam. "Do you wish for the Aegis you awakened to save Alrest, Prince Addam?"
"I do but…"
"But what?"
"Quaestor, there are political implications to what you are asking me."
Amalthus smiled knowingly. "I am well aware of that, Prince Addam. That is why–" he spread his hands "–what you will be doing will be a secret." He folded his hands behind his back. "Since we are being honest here, Your Highness, Indol does not want the public to know that they are responsible for Mythra. They especially do not want people to know that they are paying someone from another nation to rectify one of my mistakes. A mistake that they condoned because of their actions in a war we should have had no part in.
"Your Highness, Indol and all of its influence will be on your side for this. The Praetor himself will send a letter to the Urayan King recommending that you can be trusted with the Aegis and take care of any punishment that he may give to you."
The hairs on Addam's neck stood straight up. "Are you blackmailing me, Quaestor Amalthus?" His tone was dangerous.
Amalthus chuckled. "Of course not, Prince," he said. "I am only saying that Indol will help you get out of the mess you are in in Uraya. However, I have no doubt that you are charming enough to get out a punishment anyways. Indol is merely offering to assure that you will not face consequences in Uraya if you agree to help us in our time of need. If politicking is what you are worried about, as long as Indol remains anonymous in its support of you, there should be no problem. Torna is already aware that you travel around Alrest often. This will be no different. I see you as in an excellent position to do this job. It is why I entrusted you with the Aegis' Core Crystal in the first place."
Addam looked at Malos, who had a completely blank expression. It wasn't helpful—it put him no closer to knowing what he was supposed to do.
"I will allow you to think about it," Amalthus said pleasantly. "I know that what I am asking is a lot." He bowed. "Thank you for your consideration. I know that what you want to do is save our world, as we all do."
As they left Amalthus' office, Addam stopped to stare down at the refugees. The refugees from the ongoing war. Although Indol picked a side, they didn't seem to mind helping refugees from either side of the conflict. It was something that he could respect them for, at least.
"What is it?" Malos asked quietly. He was being uncharacteristically thoughtful. Maybe their conversation from earlier had made this the case. Addam just needed to be a little firmer with him, it seemed. At least that meant that he would listen to him.
"What did you think of Amalthus?"
Malos considered his question for a moment. "Why? You don't like him?"
"I didn't say that."
"You may as well have."
Addam chuckled. "I suppose so."
"His appeal to you was bullshit at least. I don't know if you picked up on that."
Addam sighed at that. "I know my way around politics better than most," he said. "But I think his request was genuine. Even before you were awakened, he wanted someone to help with stopping the Aegis."
Malos looked away and crossed his arms. "Did you see him smiling?"
"What?"
"When he was talking about me being the hope of Alrest, or whatever. He wants the Aegises to fight really damn badly. Why?"
"I don't know."
Addam continued to stare down at the refugees. They seemed to be having a laundry day; almost all of them were cleaning their clothes in the fountain while some of their children played in one corner of it. He closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. He couldn't let Mythra destroy the world. She was going to, no matter the intentions of Indol.
"Malos," he started slowly, "I want to help these people."
"I know that."
"I want to take up Indol on their offer but I will not do it with them if you do not wish to pursue this with me."
"I'm not leaving you," Malos said gruffly. He glared down at the ground. "I'm your Blade. Drivers and Blades weren't made to be independent."
"You're respecting the Architect now, are you?"
Malos scowled at him. "I never questioned what he created," he said. "I just don't think he deserves any of the worship that he gets." He gripped the railing of the balcony. "I'm going to follow you until the day you die, Addam. It's… It's what I was made to do. You haven't given me any reason to go anywhere else. I'll follow your lead."
Addam stared at him, long and hard. "Thank you, Malos," he said, finally.
"Don't. It's why Blades and Drivers are what they are. Do what you want, and I'll follow."
Although Addam knew what Malos was saying was true, it was still comforting. It was comforting to know that he would have someone who could help him in this, no matter what happened. Especially since it seemed to reason that Indol would do little else but throw money at him and hope for the best.
But Malos deserved his freedom too. Aegises lived past the deaths of the Drivers and he deserved something more. Addam wanted to be a good Driver to Malos—and after this, he was going to try much harder—but he wanted Malos to see people, too. He needed to, if he was truly going to fight for them. And hopefully would continue to do so after Addam's death. He also just—he needed to be able to navigate conversations with others. His personality and brutishness wouldn't be able to get him out of everything forever.
Amalthus was unsurprised and predictably very pleased when Addam agreed to his terms, quickly ushering them to the audience chamber for the praetor to give them details. (There practically were none; truly, all the Praetorium wanted to do was give them money and a letter.)
As Addam and Malos were leaving, Praetor Rhadallis called out to them."One last thing, Prince Addam. All of the money that Indol will be giving you will be done through the Argentum Trade Guild. Have you heard of it?"
Addam stopped, the letter to the Urayan king gripped in his hand. "No," he said.
"It's a small trade guild founded by traveling Nopon. It is not incredibly big yet, so its members were more than happy to keep things quiet if we paid them enough money." The Praetor's lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. There was something off with the Praetor—even more than Amalthus.
"Just be sure to go there for your deliveries, Prince. Not here," continued the Praetor. "We would not want the followers to learn that… That their tithing is not going where they believe it is. Not that it is not a worthy cause that the Architect would not approve of," he added quickly, "It is simply…unexpected. I do not need to worry them any more than they already are. What, with this war going on, as well as a rampaging Aegis."
"You don't want them to know that you're using their money to hide your dealings with other nations to start wars, you mean?" Malos' tone was demeaning and mocking.
The Praetor's expression grew stormy as he stood from his chair. "Prince, control your Blade. If you cannot, I am tempted to demand that the Urayan King crushes his Core like what we should have done with the first."
Addam's stomach tied itself into a knot and he put his hand on Malos' shoulder, his grip tight. "I apologize for his behavior, Praetor Rhadallis," he said, his legs trembling but his voice steady. "Thank you for your aid, and I swear upon the Architect that I will do what needs to be done with what you have given me."
He sneered down at him. "Very good," he ground out. "Leave."
Addam left the audience chamber as quickly as was polite and the moment he heard the doors close behind him, he spun on his heel to stare Malos in the eye. "What is wrong with you?" His body was still unsteady but no longer from fear.
Any amusement from getting such a rise from the Praetor that may have been in his expression was gone. "What do you mean?"
"I tire of your scorn and insolence and I will tolerate it no longer," he said quietly but his jaw tense. "You cannot behave like that and certainly not to the Praetor. Or to the Urayan King, or to me." Malos was larger than he was—much larger—but Addam knew how to back men like him into corners. He'd done it many times and he could do it again. "You will hold your tongue and I know that you are capable of it when you want to be. You do not need to believe in the importance of any of this pomp but you will respect it as long as you are a Tornan Blade. Do you understand me?"
Malos was quiet for a long, long time. "I understand, Addam," he gritted. He looked angry, angrier than Addam had ever seen, but did not look like he wanted to say anything else. Maybe what he said finally went through his skull.
Addam exhaled sharply and turned away, feeling like all of the energy from his body was leaving him. "Good," he said. "Let us go. We must make our way back to the Urayan king as soon as we can."
His Blade followed silently and without hesitation. It made Addam regret how he had spoken to him. He needed to tell Malos that behaving as he was currently was unacceptable, but he did not mean that he wanted Malos to not do anything. He only hoped that he was just acting like a scolded child and was simply recovering from a bruised ego.
