DISCLAIMER: Magi and other discernible characters/quotes/citations belong to their respective authors. I do not own original content, Magi. No profits were made.
COVER CREDITS: MAGI THE LABYRINTH OF MAGIC BY SHINOBU OHTAKA (c). Cover Credits: Original Fan Character by Aladdin.
Cited: magi. Fandom wiki
A/N: Sooo, you remember when I told you guys I was done editing this? Here's a NEW EDIT, lol. I hope you guys like it! Definitely meatier & delves more into Samara & Sinbad's feelings. Thank you for your patience!
#StaySafe #Quarantine2020
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Magi
Chapter III: Secrets of the Priestess
It has been nearly two months since the Sindrians arrived in Samaria. During their free time, Sinbad and the Priestess roam in the cities and villages, offering their help where needed, immersing themselves in the simple Samarian way of life.
One early morning, Ja'Far stopped his King on his way to see the Priestess. His experience reminded him to be quick at delivering messages because Sinbad tends to think his advisors are always spoiling his fun. "Sin, we have been in this country for nearly two months. Do we have any plans of going back to our kingdom?"
The King simply chuckled and avoided the question entirely, "Aren't you enjoying yourselves?"
Ja'Far made a worried face, "We are. The citizens of Samaria have been delightful hosts, but we have responsibilities to our citizens. I feel we might be losing track of our objective here. Have you found a way to establish an alliance or even basic trading?"
"He's right, Sin," Masrur weighed in, "Apart from that, we have overstayed our welcome!"
"Ah… nonsense!" The King threw his hands outward playfully, refusing to acknowledge both of his Household Vessels. "The citizens love having us here, and we get to help their communities! We've helped finish their new aqueducts—"
"I think you may have some misguided enthusiasm here, Sin." Masrur cut him off, raising his eyebrow at his King with his arms crossed against his chest.
"Are you sure the citizens love having you around? Or do you enjoy being around the Priestess?" Ja'Far goaded, a hand on his hip and a finger pointing at the King.
"What are you talking about?" The King exclaimed in denial. He put his hand on his chest, endearingly, "I am just trying to establish a good relationship between our two countries! Their customs and traditions are way different than any other country we've been to before, so it's just taking me a bit more time to learn their ways."
Masrur put his hand on his chin and thought deeply, "You know what? Ja'Far is right. You haven't been misbehaving at all these past two months. No drinking, no strange women you're sleeping with…"
"You're trying to get in the Priestess's good graces!" Ja'Far exclaimed suspiciously, "Which is not at all what we came here for!"
Their King simply walked away, explaining under his breath, throwing his hands above his shoulders and his head to the side, "You guys are simply absurd. Aren't you the ones who encouraged me to stay out of any trouble?" He turned his gaze back to the Generals, catching their gaze out of the corner of his left eye, "We are in a holy kingdom, after all."
"This is his first serious conquest of a respectable woman… We might have to stick around for a while to give our King a fighting chance." Ja'Far rested his palm against his face.
Masrur had no witty rebuttal as he thought for a moment, the words of his King striking a chord.
"Ja'Far," Masrur broke his silence, his hand still on his chin, "There is something odd about this kingdom. Why is this country called the Holy Kingdom of Samaria? We've been here for two months, and from what I have seen, the citizens don't seem to practice regular prayer. They have a high priestess, and they treat her with respect, begging for her forgiveness when they fail to protect her, but there are no major temples built around the city or even shrines to worship in any of the citizen's homes. I haven't seen any other priest or priestess teaching any scriptures either. The children are taught regular school subjects. The citizens here are different from Sasan; besides what the priestess explained about their clothing, there isn't much they do or say that qualifies as 'holy.'"
He wanted to ignore this nagging thought since the Samarians have been such welcoming hosts. However, he wouldn't be a good advisor if he did not have suspicions about everyone and everything, especially since his King has been so distracted upon arriving in this strange country.
Meanwhile, the King looked for the Priestess. He found her in the great hall, teaching the students a lesson about rukh. He leaned against the doorframe and listened through the cracked door.
"Rukh is believed to be the home of all souls. You see, children, when each of our lives were born, we accepted what we call the Rukh's Guidance or more commonly known as Fate – this allows us to live within the Rukh's Great White Flow. However, some try to go against the Rukh's natural flow. They try to go against fate and defy destiny – this creates Black Rukh. It is created from and fuels hatred and malice. Going against Fate degenerates evolution; existence becomes nothing, and destinies become negative – this is called 'falling into depravity.' When people who have completely fallen die, they cannot go back to the Great White Flow."
One of the students raised her hand, "Priestess Samara, if Rukh is the home of all souls, does that mean, when fallen people die, they can never be reunited with the souls of the people they loved in this world?" She asked worriedly.
"Sadly, you are correct, Yasmin." The sadness in the Priestess's voice resonated with her audience.
The whole class murmured. Fear and distress heard from their chatter.
The King felt agitated at how accurate the Priestess's words were. His head weighed heavily on his shoulders as he clenched his fists, jingling his jewelry and equipment.
"Sinbad?" The Priestess called out, "Is that you?"
The King chuckled awkwardly with a hand covering his mouth, and his eyes squinted like a sly fox as he opened the cracked door, "You caught me."
"What are you doing out there?" The Priestess raised her left hand, curling her fingers towards herself to call the King over, "Come inside and sit with us."
The King walked in and stood with hands clasped respectfully behind his back next to the Priestess's seat. "Hello, everyone. Please forgive my interruption of class."
The kids chattered louder, "Oh my, King Sinbad! He's so cool, he's so dreamy~" The King effectively made each young girl glimmer with awe at him, and each young boy's jaw drops in excitement. "Storytime?! Storytime!"
"Well, we are in the middle of a lecture right now, children." The Priestess tried to reorient the class, "I was just about to touch on magoi and magic. Perhaps, King Sinbad might have some useful knowledge to share with us today?"
The King pulled up a chair next to the Priestess. He cleared his throat, excitement obvious from his smirk. After all, a crowd has never fazed him. Anyone who knew the king, also knew he loved the attention. He started eagerly, "Well, magoi is the energy generated by the Rukh. All living beings have magoi inside their bodies, but only certain people with certain objects can call forth this power. Metal vessels, household vessels, magic tools, magicians, and magi all use magoi to create magic." Telling a story like this brought him back to the time before he founded the Sindria Trading Company when he had to use his creativity to entertain people for money.
A boy raised his hand, "Is that why you're always wearing all that jewelry, Mr. Sinbad?"
The King turned his gaze toward the boy's fading voice. He reminded him of his younger days of being a sailor, long before Sindria was established, "Ah, yes, keen eye." The King responded after taking a second to daydream.
The students listened intently throughout the King and the Priestess's lesson. The class concluded with the difference between magi and magician.
The Priestess stood up, extending her hands to address the class, "Let's give King Sinbad warm applause to thank him for his time and his knowledge."
"Thank you, King Sinbad! Thanks, Mr. Sinbad." The students cheered as they clapped emphatically.
The King stood and bowed gracefully. Sinbad saw the children's enthusiasm, but it was he who felt humbled and thankful for the opportunity to reminisce about simpler times.
"We'll see you all later for supper. Go and wash up." The Priestess encouraged the class.
The students smiled and waved goodbye, chattering amongst each other as they exited the great hall.
The King turned to the Priestess, who was putting the books she used to teach the class back into the top shelves. "Please, let me help you." He walked over and reached for the book, cheekily brushing her hand in the process.
The Priestess retracted her hand back, thankful that her veil can hide her embarrassed smile that she can't seem to dismiss. She resorted to changing the subject, "Say, how are you in the kitchen?"
The King chuckled confidently, "I was a sailor before I was a king."
"Perfect…" The Priestess caught the King's eyes, making him smile. He was at a disadvantage. She could read every emotion painted on his face, not that he was trying to hide his fondness of her. Yet, she remained mysterious, exhilarating, sophisticated.
Their moment was abruptly halted by a student walking back into the study, "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot my book!"
The Priestess cleared her throat as she took a step away from the King. He stood upright but did not tear his gaze away from her as the student was leaving.
"Let's head to the kitchen, then?" The Priestess took this opportunity to get away before Sinbad swept her further into the storm he is brewing inside of her.
The King followed her out of the study hall and into the large palace kitchen. She might have hidden her reactions well, but Sinbad has chased enough women to know when they are interested. He removed his Metal Vessels from his body so that they won't get in the way of cooking. Placing the weapons within arms reach, near the edge of the table, the King proceeded to wash his hands. "What's on the menu tonight, Samara?"
"I was thinking roasted garlic potato soup with baked salmon." The Priestess responded, also rolling her sleeves up to wash her hands. "Does that sound appetizing?"
"Yes, quite so." The King smiled at her.
The Priestess walked from shelf to shelf, periodically setting ingredients and cooking tools down on the table. She handed a hammer and garlic cloves to the King, "You can start by pounding and peeling the garlic. Then, cover them with olive oil in this pan. I'll start peeling the potatoes. We can put them in the oven to roast after that."
"Yes, ma'am." The King responded, delighted to be doing this simple, nostalgic task with her. This brought him back to the time when Rurumu taught him and Ja'Far to cook during their travels as children.
She sat across from him and started to peel and cube the potatoes. "After this, we can start boiling the vegetable stock." She gently tossed the cubed potatoes into the oiled pan.
"Sure thing," He confirmed as he put the pan in the oven, "Hey, I wanted to say thank you."
"For what?" The Priestess smiled back while hanging a large pot over the fire. She started to fill it with a couple of small buckets of water.
The King gently tossed in two whole onions, salt, pepper, and a thumb of ginger into the brewing pot. Wishing he had a facial veil to help hide his embarrassed expression, he turned away from the Priestess's inquisitive gaze. "For your hospitality and generosity… most of all, for allowing me to feel like myself again."
"It is difficult to find balance when you are half-way fallen. Every day, you must win against yourself, so you don't fall further. If you owe anyone gratitude – it's to yourself." She said it in a way that made him believe he was still redeemable, even after falling so far into the darkness.
He chuckled and glanced back at the Priestess, "You astonish me."
Despite the veil, the Priestess's eyes revealed such loneliness the King was all too familiar with whenever he glanced at his reflection before he came to Samaria. Her eyes longed to say something to him, as if wanting to alleviate a burden she'd been carrying for so long, "Sinbad… are you familiar with the history of our holy kingdom?"
"As I understand from the citizens, Samaria and its sister kingdom, Judah, were once a united country. The first ruler decided to divide the country into two kingdoms for his two children to lead – Samaria to the north inherited by his eldest daughter and Judah to the south inherited by his second-born child, his son." The King sat at the table once again. He recalled the tactile skills he learned as a sailor as he carved the sharp knife through the scales of the fish. "However, the son was tragically lost before he could ascend the throne so little by little, the citizens of Judah sought out Samarian leadership when disputes escalated into civil uprisings."
The Priestess stood across from him, stirring the pot, "Alas, history has watered the truth down quite a bit." The Priestess took the roasted potatoes out of the oven using a thick cloth to grab the pan. She walked it directly over the pot and let the vegetables fall in the broth. "The division of the country stemmed from so much betrayal and hurt."
The King listened intently. She set the pan down in front of the King, like every good cook, he knew that the meat would be tastier cooked in a pan seasoned with the aroma of roasted vegetables.
"The Leader of the First Church, David, had a son. He founded this once mighty kingdom some thousand years ago. When our first ruler grew up, he saw the true nature of the church his father preached and fought to demolish its corruption and create something better."
"Let me get this right," Sinbad interjected, "The history books say that Samaria was founded only 20 years ago at most."
The Priestess stopped him with a cryptic answer. "Samaria, maybe so. However, our history extends much farther than your oldest books."
"Oh, yeah?" He smiled obliviously. "Tell me more."
"After a few years, our first ruler succeeded. He had grown to be a symbol of hope for the resistance against the First Church. He made a few friends along the way – People that he considered true family, more than the Church that raised him. By this time, he had a child out of wedlock with one of the servants his father assigned to him at birth, Arba. Even with the given circumstances, he loved Arba. After all, she was his closest friend, and they grew up together, saved their country together, had a daughter together. However, after everything that happened between them, the servant knew that her young master would never truly be happy seeking out the only form of love he ever knew through her." The Priestess narrated as she continued to season the vegetable stock with herbs.
The King recognized the fragrance of rosemary and thyme in the air as he listened attentively, placing the fish skin down on the seasoned pan.
[[ A/N: To clarify and avoid confusion, they had just met Sheba in this timeline; She was not the queen nor was she Solomon's wife yet; she was still a really young girl. At this time, Solomon and his followers had first formed a resistance to defy his father, David, and his Orthodox Church. ]]
"When the princess was a toddler, her father went on an expedition to liberate captured villagers. When he arrived back home to Arba and his daughter, his son was born. The princess was so thrilled, informing her father about the joys of receiving the gift of a new brother. Our first ruler named him Jedidiah."
"It seems like a happy story. What happened to drive the country apart?" Sinbad asked, standing up and grabbing the pan on his way up. He walked over to the warm oven and placed the salmon inside, rekindling the fire underneath after putting in more firewood.
"You see, Jedidiah, was not of royal descent," she explained with her back turned to the King, hiding her shame, "My mother stole him and killed his birth parents – this crime birthed Al-Tharmen."
The King gripped the large metal poker, feeling vulnerable without all of his Metal Vessels. He turned around and slowly walked to the table, "W-What are you… saying, Samara?"
"I am saying…" She turned around to face the King, her eyes welling with tears, "that Al-Tharmen was born in the heart of this nation."
The King's eyes widened, but before he could process his worries and confusion, his instincts proved better. He immediately took a step back from the table after grabbing the nearest Metal Vessel. Sinbad started chanting, a feeling of hurt was beginning to surface, "Spirit of domination and submission, Focalor. Dwell in my body—"
"It won't work, Sinbad." The Priestess walked in front of him, unfazed.
"Foraz Zor—" Sinbad felt his chest ache, both from the White Rukh and Black Rukh flowing in him.
"Do not harm our Sami, King Sinbad…" a voice in his head uttered as he felt Focalor's power be depleted. No, more accurately, he felt Focalor rejecting his call as a King Vessel. Sinbad felt betrayed, not only by his budding love interest but also by his very own Djinn.
The Priestess touched the King's chest with her right fingertips, "Hello, old friend…"
"What nonsense are you spouting, woman? What is this?!" The King was perplexed, "H-How can we be old friends? We've never met until two months ago! How do I know you?"
"You don't, Sinbad." She touched the King's bracelet on his right wrist, "Come forth, Focalor!" She retracted her left hand back. Her right arm extended between both of their bodies, her fingertips grazing the King ever so lightly as she summoned Focalor's blue body out of his metal vessel. "Solomon's Wisdom!"
"Sami…" Focalor's voice echoed in the seemingly small kitchen disproportionate to his blue body. "I am so glad Ugo got you out of Alma Torran…"
"I never thought I'd see you again, Fooka…" The Priestess's gentle eyes were smiling.
"What… in the world… is happening?" The King managed to utter in between his confusion.
The Priestess turned to the King, firmness in her voice, "Are you ready to hear the true history of our people, King Sinbad?"
Meanwhile…
Ja'Far and Masrur decided to follow their hunch while their king was busy with his conquest. Making sure there were no guards or servants to catch them red-handed, they climbed out of their bedroom window. They scaled around the castle's architecture to sneak into the window of the Priestess's chambers and began investigating what the country could be hiding in hopes of unraveling more of her secrets. Masrur checked around the bedroom while Ja'Far checked in the bathroom.
Ja'Far found it strange that the bathroom was quite large, almost as large as the bedroom. However, there was nothing but open space in the middle, not even a tub or a bucket of water. The Priestess's towels and robes were situated next to the walls, but the middle of the room was a blank canvass. He walked to the center of the bathroom, and he noticed the difference in humidity. The longer he stood there, the more he felt like he was sweating. He then noticed that there was a bit of steam coming from cracks in the floor. He knelt and put his palms against the concrete. It's warm… what is underneath here? What are you hiding?
"I didn't find anything in the bedroom—." Masrur came into the bathroom and was puzzled as to why Ja'Far looked like a dog sniffing the floor. "What are you doing, Ja'Far?"
"There's something under here! Quick, help me figure out how to open it!" Ja'Far scrambled.
"Put your tail away first," Masrur joked. "No buttons or levers around the room?"
"Tried, no luck." It dawned on Ja'Far as he threw his hands up with his realization, "…because it's not sealed physically; It's sealed through magic!"
Masrur stood back, and Ja'Far put his hands back on the concrete, "Open… Sesame!"
The floor underneath him slid like doors, and he dropped into a shallow, steamy pool underneath. He was completely submerged, but he did not come up for air. Clairvoyance magic? The pool acted as a projector to show a vast blackness even with the room lit up above the water. He felt like he was getting pulled closer to something, or maybe something was being drawn closer to him. It was a ball of light from a distance. As it got closer, he could make out the image of a staff. Just as he was about to reach out to it, Masrur pulled him out of the pool. He started coughing up water.
"What happened? Why did you pull me out?" Ja'Far asked frantically.
"Wh—? You were in there for almost two minutes! You were floating face down in a pool that was waist-deep." Masrur exclaimed, almost worriedly.
"Two minutes?" Ja'Far was perplexed. It did not seem to settle into his mind that he nearly drowned. "It felt like two seconds… the pool has clairvoyance magic."
"What did you see?"
"A staff… with a crescent ornament at the top."