Chapter 7 - Royal Audience
Lands of the Spirits, Kingdoms of Sumer. Uruk. Inn then streets. Present time, 2013
In truth, they had not stayed long, and their state of fatigue was such that they had not paid much attention to the buildings and inhabitants of the mother city of the southern crown of Sumerian lands. It hadn't been a bad night either, the infernal heat of the day giving way to a coolness, even a chill, that was welcome in the evening despite the dryness of the air they breathed. Adelaide had been surprised to hear the murmurs of the night again, be it the rumor of insects, the hooting of some nocturnal bird or the quivering of furtive shadows of nocturnal fauna, which took advantage of human absence and dozing to lead their own lives. However, these sounds seemed more reassuring than disturbing, and hearing them gave her a comfort and a sense of calm that she had not experienced for as long as her truncated memory could remember. They had been brought to share a kind of large attic split in two, on beds that, compared to those they were used to in the world of mages, seemed to be makeshift bedding.
His distinction between men and women had been achieved in that the shared space was dedicated exclusively to one of the two sexes, although they had to share a bed with another resident. Thus, while Waver shared his makeshift bed with the young priestess' bodyguard, the emissary of the Northern Crown had offered to share a bed with the young girl. The Frenchwoman had accepted his offer, much preferring to sleep in the same bed as someone she knew at least a little better than having to do the same with a complete stranger.
The previous evening's rather copious meal was followed by a humbler breakfast when they joined each other in the main room to eat their fill on one of the large tables. As young Aïcha explained to them with patience and obvious pleasure, the daily rhythm of the inhabitants of the two kingdoms of Sumer was punctuated by two meals a day, the contents of which varied according to several criteria: the region where they found themselves, i.e. the northern or southern regions of Sumer, the plains, marshes, desert or ports; the lifestyle of the inhabitants, whether they were city-dwellers, rural, sedentary or nomadic; and the period of the divine calendar in which they found themselves, which might forbid certain foods.
So, since they were in the southern part of Sumer, they were more easily supplied with dates, harvested from date palms that could not withstand the frost sometimes found in the northern part of the two kingdoms. Since they were in the city, and in one of the two capitals, they could find pork, fish, beef, milk and cereals more easily than the nomads of the steppes could and the immense desert could. Likewise, the inhabitants of the marshes to the south of the great plain could enjoy a fresher, more plentiful supply of fish than that which was transported all the way here. For breakfast, they were offered a sort of hearty porridge, part of which was carefully set aside by the tenants of the establishment to be reserved for their deities. Adelaide eagerly absorbed all these cultural elements from the accompanying priestess, whose volubility contrasted sharply with her protector's silence. Waver himself showed a certain curiosity, beyond the measured politeness he displayed. Fleury noted with amusement that he had also asked questions about the nature of the local spirits, which he eagerly justified as information of interest to his lord.
According to Aïcha, it was mainly beer that was renowned and produced in abundance in the kingdoms, although there were a few wines and spirits that could be consumed on special occasions and especially by the more fortunate. Beer, which was easier to make, was even more widely available than water.
Once lunch was over and their preparations completed, the British and French mages followed in the footsteps of the young priestess and her protector, who directed them into the capital. It was with more attentive eyes and more alert minds that the two magicians contemplated the vast city, whose buildings were more likely to be rectangular or even square in shape. The buildings varied in ornament, depending on the district they were in and no doubt on the opulence of their owners, but all were built of light-colored rock and appeared very sturdy. The ground they walked on was entirely paved between the walls of the capital, which breathed through a few scattered spaces of greenery and the shade of numerous palm trees. The waters of the Euphrates, the river that flowed vigorously through the region, were conveyed to the heart of the capital via an ingenious system of canals, which joined around the palace to fill wide moats, overlooked by the four bridges that led to the building's gates.
They had turned off one of the adjacent streets onto one of Uruk's four main thoroughfares, which led to their destination, the Ziggurat, whose summit stood out clearly against the city. Adelaide's curious eyes could only observe and wonder at the small details and what the countless side streets adjoining the main thoroughfares, as well as their alleyways, might contain. The city was bustling with activity, and the closer they got to the palace, the easier it was to guess that the wealthier classes had settled in its immediate periphery, given the beauty of the buildings.
As their guide, Aïcha, led the way alongside her bodyguard, Adelaide turned from her admiring contemplation of the place and turned her azure gaze on her British friend.
- You look as surprised as I am. You have never been here before.
- Indeed, it is... different from what I expected.
- Different in what way? Adelaide asked, her curiosity piqued.
- In too many ways, but mainly, how lively the city is and how happy its inhabitants seem to be with their life here.
- Why is that so surprising?
He seemed to have expected the opposite, whereas she saw no reason for it to be so. Her question, for its part, was by no means placed on the defensive and was more intriguing. Waver had turned his obsidian eyes towards her, his gaze round with astonishment, then more doubtful as he gave her a piercing stare. Velvet let out a loud sigh before continuing.
- Oh, I forgot your amnesia. To cut a long story short, there is a heroic Sumerian soul, a king, who made a good name for himself before and during the Flood, a Spirit who did not make a good name for himself. He made a great deal of a name for himself before he was forcibly chained to who-knows-where.
- During the Flood... one of the two finalists, you mean. The Saber or the Archer? I confess that, apart from the classes to which they belong, we are not told much about them.
- The Archer, in this case. I can imagine that they want to keep the details under wraps; otherwise, the International Council of Mages would be tearing itself apart over who is to blame, without taking any action. I have never dealt with him, but I have heard enough from Rider to get an idea.
The Frenchwoman was willing to believe him on this point. What little she knew of the upper echelons of the mage world, both through her parents' circle of acquaintances and what she had learned at the Eleanor school, tended to validate this comment. If there was one thing that characterized mages, it was ambition, pride and dignity. Once again, the subject had the unpleasant effect of feeding the beginnings of a migraine between her temples, but this time the teenager decided to ignore it and ask.
- Did he live through the Flood? Did he fight in the last war?
- No, but he knows the person, they have already crossed swords in the war that preceded the Flood. He respects him as a rival, and above all, is eager to take his revenge against him, just "for sport". In addition, if the Aegis had not taken care of him, he would have been delighted to challenge him once again. Worst of all, he would be quite capable of it.
Waver rolled his eyes at these words, as if to signify that some of Iskandar's decisions eluded him, would probably always elude him, and would escape any truly rational reason. Behind his good-natured, gruff tone, he clearly loved fighting and talented opponents, and deserved his title of King of Conquerors. Adelaide smiled and shrugged in return. Why look for meaning in what, precisely, did not have any and did not necessarily need to have any. If this were the temperament of the King of Conquerors, it would be hard to make him go against his nature. Nevertheless, she smiled sympathetically at her companion in misfortune: she could hear that it must not always be easy to manage, even if their characters seemed to balance each other well.
- That would be rather like him, indeed - Adelaide commented with a slight smile before asking, nervously - and do you think it could be the same Heroic Soul as...?
- It depends; was he egocentric, arrogant, condescending, proud, narrow-minded, sickly possessive, extremely touchy, tyrannical, cruel and ruthless?
Adelaide raised an eyebrow at the avalanche of unflattering qualifiers Waver listed, silently asking him if he was serious, but the Briton's features were proving quite serious. Was there really such a thing as a Heroic Soul? The Frenchwoman took the time to think, however, shuffling her meagre strands of memory to try to come up with an answer.
- I do not think so. The first words that come to mind to describe him are wise, fair, dignified.
- If that is the case, there is no way it could be him. Waver replied, shaking his head.
Her British friend seemed pensive, and remained wary. Adelaide did not mind that some doubt remained in the face of her assertions. She had amnesia, and the little she had left was confused and chaotic, skirting the border between dreams and memories. Yet the Frenchwoman felt a real sense of calm as they wandered through the eastern city, an echo of familiarity. Perhaps she had been here before, or perhaps the immense city reminded her of another? They were both worried, for their own reasons, and silence separated them for several minutes. She did not think the young priestess could lie to them; after all, she had an air of familiarity for the Frenchwoman, diffuse but real. She would have had no interest in doing so, just as she would have had no interest in saving them. Nevertheless, the girl was anxious at the prospect of meeting a Spirit King. The teachings she had received at the Eleanor Institute did not portray them in a very positive light. They were presented as the most powerful and influential of spirits, rulers of a specific region.
Their powers were considered immense and were feared and coveted by mages. The watchword was to avoid crossing their path at all costs, and not to quarrel with them or offend them in any way. In the texts, the Aegis acted as intermediary. Nevertheless, as Waver had pointed out, they had no other option: they had to have the direct assent of the kingdom's sovereign entity if they wanted to be able to return home. Moreover, more personally, if there were any chance of knowing the identity of the Spirit with whom it was contracted, the Spirit King would know best. It was, therefore, an inescapable passage. She was contemplating the immense, growing, imperious silhouette of the Palace towards which they were heading when she felt Waver draw her attention by briefly grasping her arm, before whispering to her.
- Just remember. Whatever happens, you are not alone and you have nothing to lose. I will go with you, and you will have somewhere to go. If they do not want you here, we will take you there.
She thanked him with a smile for his words of encouragement, but they were unable to continue the conversation as Aïcha turned to them, her ever-enthusiastic smile on her lips, to announce that they had arrived at the palace where their King Spirit, the Wise King, resided and received them. She called the place the "Ziggurat", a term that sounded familiar in Adelaide's ears.
- There is a protocol to be observed once inside, especially in the presence of our King. I will explain everything to you before we go in, and everything will be fine! It has been a short night, I am well aware, and I am sorry to have had to wake you so early after our long journey, but it was necessary if we are to be received during the day. Explained Aïcha in a gentle voice.
- If we want to be received during the day? Waver repeated, clearly intrigued.
- Yes, many people come to ask for an audience with our Kings, on a wide range of subjects, and regardless of status. It can last until sunset.
Later. Lands of the Spirits, Kingdoms of Sumer. Uruk. Royal Palace - Ziggurat.
Where the Englishman and the Frenchwoman were astonished, even a little dubious about the young priestess's assertions, they understood better why once inside the immense building. Where the outer courtyard was devoid of evidence, the huge hall used for audiences and receptions was packed with people, so numerous were the visitors who wanted to be received by the eminent authority. They could not yet make out the features of the King Spirit, whose voice was all they could hear now, shrewd but authoritative and full of aplomb. If Waver had tensed up listening to the sovereign's timbre, the Briton made no pretense of wanting to speak to him for the time being. Adelaide could therefore only deduce that they would be dealing with a male individual, and that he was speaking in Sumerian. Just like the great staircase they would have to climb a few meters away, anyone wishing to address the sovereign would have to climb up to him, obviously. In spite of the large number of visitors, they showed great patience and discipline, waiting for their audience in a well-observed queue. What appeared to be the lower part of the room, plunged into darkness and supported by huge circular pillars, brightened up as they progressed, one-step at a time, towards the upper part, from which a shaft of light emanated. The three teenagers kept close together, under the watchful eye of Aïcha's silent bodyguard. Adelaide noticed that some priestesses seemed to be watching her with insistence and intrigue, exchanging glances and especially whispers that she could not hear from where she was. Nervous, the young girl preferred to turn her attention to the majestic hall they were in as they slowly but surely made their way towards the first set of stairs. Despite the apparent coldness of the thick white or ochre rock, the colorful frescoes adorning the walls lent a certain warmth to the place, their opulence contrasting with the sobriety of the rock. The attention paid to architectural details demonstrated the taste and wealth of their owner. The premises were solidly protected, with well-armed guards keeping a watchful eye on the surrounding area.
They climbed the steps of the imposing staircase, one-step at a time, and the sudden brightness dazzled the Frenchwoman's clear eyes for a few moments, causing her eyelids to flutter.
Opposite them, a few meters away, an immense throne sat in majesty, raised by a second staircase.
Highlighted by the open embrasure in the stone, which let daylight into the room and glimpsed the palm trees of an adjacent garden, transparent hangings were carefully draped on either side of the throne, while the reflection of daylight on the stone lent a golden hue that haloed the furniture feast. The ensemble was preceded by a thick, long oriental carpet, the beauty of which hinted at its preciousness and rarity, framed by beds of delicate pink and gold flowers. The throne was a natural eye-catcher, both for the size of its backrest - two full-grown men could stand on it - and for the imposing gilding it was adorned with, undoubtedly forged from pure gold. Although it was rather austere in its appearance, by no means upholstered, and cut to severe edges.
A man sat on the throne, positioned so that he could see everything and be seen by everyone. His regal figure boasted a tall stature, exquisitely chiseled features and a slim, muscular body, an asset the sovereign did not bother to hide by revealing his bare torso. Several meters still separated them from the King Spirit - there was no doubt that it was he - but Adelaide could make out his blond hair and tall, proud, haughty stature. Although she felt very intimidated in his presence, Adelaide could not help thinking that many women and men would swoon over him, both charmed and intimidated. The charm did not seem to be working on Waver, whose features grew ever tauter. The Briton turned his dark eyes to the Frenchwoman, silently urging her to be careful. She must not slip up, and she must not take the meeting with the Heroic Soul lightly. For there was no room for doubt between the two mages, who felt the presence and vast power of the entity towering over them: they were dealing with a Heroic Soul, a quasi-divine entity. Fleury tried not to stare too hard, but she had the feeling that the Spirit was not foreign to her. She was convinced, though she was not quite sure why, that she had met him before.
Soon there was only one person in front of them, and a young woman approached. Despite the white sheet covering her skull, neck and back, and the thin veil partly covering her face, there was no doubt that this was a very beautiful woman, whose brown eyes reflected a sharp mind and a certain sagacity. The green dress edged in gold was reminiscent of that worn by Aïcha, although it also hinted at a higher priestly rank. Refined gold jewelry adorned her forehead, wrists, neck and ears, barely concealed by her outfit, while a white cloth covered the back of her hand before tying at the base of her index finger. They could glimpse strands of brown hair, her slightly tanned skin and a red headband encircling her forehead. The beautiful stranger exchanged a few brief words with Aïcha, before inscribing something on the clay tablet, she was holding. She beckoned them with one hand to wait, and then moved towards the throne to hand the clay tablet to the sovereign. He consulted it in a few moments, before turning his regal gaze towards them. Imitating Waver's example and driven by an obscure instinct, Adelaide knelt down and lowered her eyes to the ground in reverence.
The aura of authority he exuded was such that it commanded, without a word, the respect of its august and formidable possessor. After granting them the right to sit up and hearing the customary greetings, the Spirit-King declared.
- So here you are priestess. It took you a long time to reach Uruk.
- Your Majesty - Aïcha replied deferentially - I apologize for the delay. Monsters have slowed our progress. Their attacks are becoming more frequent. The two travelers here have been invaluable in defending our convoy.
- Travelers, you say. Commented the sovereign, turning his gaze on her and Waver.
The crimson eyes, both sharp and sagacious, once again seemed familiar to the Frenchwoman. The monarch's features remained impassive, his expression indecipherable, his posture authoritative.
- You are a long way from your king, Adjutor. To what do we owe this unexpected visit? I give you permission to speak.
A sharp edge remained behind his questions, which demanded answers without waiting. "Adjutor? Was he referring to Waver in this address, which he never took his regal eyes off, or to the office, he held? From his knowledge of the Latin language, "Adjutor" most often meant "Adjuteur", which was a term with a meaning close to "assistant", "deputy" or "helper". Was it an official title? In any case, Fleury deduced from these words that the Spirit King knew his British comrade in misfortune by name at least, and was aware of his link with Iskandar. Waver was clearly unperturbed by the bait, and replied in a controlled voice.
- Thank you for granting us this audience, King of Sumer. An unfortunate portal malfunction brought us to your kingdom, in the heart of the desert. The priestess Aïcha was kind enough to rescue us and bring us before you.
- And where were you planning to use this route to get?
- To the kingdom of Macedonia. Magi attacked us on the way. The King of Conquerors ordered me to use a portal to get there, so that my friend here could be taken to safety.
- Mm. It is presumptuous of you to assert that the gate has failed. You are not so incompetent as to miscalibrate a gate, which is an essential skill for any assistant. Moreover, it is not a mongrel who could override the seal that locks the gates of my Kingdom.
The King's whole attitude suggested a certain boredom, one elbow resting on the armrest of his massive throne and his head resting on his hand. His appearance was majestic, even if the presence he exuded was distinctly different from Iskandar's in nature. She could make out his finely chiseled features and the scarlet tint of his eyes, which contrasted with his fair skin tone. Her blond hair, cut rather short, was set in a white cap adorned with azure horns and a kind of gold chain embellished with an indigo stone, which must have been a precious amethyst. Although partly concealed by the indigo collar of the sleeveless jacket that covered her neck, upper back and encircled her bare torso, intricate earrings of pure gold sparkled in her ears, echoing the precious pendant adorning her neck. An azure gauntlet covered his left forearm, on which he leaned, while his right arm and left hand were fully protected by a gold-plate gauntlet, from the base of his elbow to his fingertips. A sort of red sarouel edged in indigo, embellished with a thick pure-gold belt, half-open, covered the sides of his legs while revealing his knees, shins and ankles.
Finally, gold and indigo socks covered her feet, while her shoulders, left bare, each revealed the presence of an indigo tattoo whose shape evoked a cruciform form.
- And yet, you dare to appear before me, without your king and in very surprising company. What are you doing with a woman who has been actively wanted for almost two years? I advise you to consider every word you say and to avoid any lies if you want to keep your head on your neck.
The Spirit-King's voice had become more serious, more regal. He had straightened up and, with his back straight in his imposing throne, looked even more intimidating. No doubt, he would make a formidable opponent should they incur his wrath. At a glance, the Frenchwoman realized that the guards had tensed up and seemed ready to intervene at any moment to seize them. Aïcha did not seem to want to intercede on their behalf. No, she could not decently leave Waver to face this alone; when it was partly because of her that, they had found themselves in this situation.
Her honor as a Frenchwoman and as Fleury was at stake. Adelaide realized that he had used the second person plural rather than the second person singular, and that his gaze was on their pair. He was not addressing Waver alone. He was waiting for a precise answer from their group. Gathering her courage, Adelaide took half a step forward to place herself between Waver and the sovereign. Since he, like Waver, had addressed them in English, Fleury preferred to do the same.
- King Gilgamesh, I implore your clemency. He and the King of Conquerors had neither malice nor malicious intent towards me. Our paths crossed only by chance in the world of magi, in France. Confronted there by mages with belligerent intentions, we helped each other and escaped their trap through a Waver portal, which brought us to London and enabled us to join the King of Conquerors. They helped me realize that my place was not to be with the mages, but somewhere in these worlds, and that I must have been in the service of a Spirit who might be looking for me. As I sought to rejoin my brother and find out for myself, we were ambushed by the same mages, who were assisted by spirits. Wishing to do battle with them personally and get us to safety, the King of Conquerors summoned Waver to use a portal to get us to his kingdom. Something interfered with the transfer, and brought us to Sumer. The priestess Aisha was kind enough to come to our aid and take us with her to this point. She wished to bring us to you, so that we could request your permission to continue our journey to Macedonia. She assumed it was this key that brought us here. I do not know how I came into possession of it; my memory is still patchy.
No lies tinged his words. Her words, though sincere, were chosen as carefully as possible in the English language, which perhaps weighed down her way of speaking. Adelaide refused to let Waver pay the price for an exaction to which her own parents seemed no strangers, even though she owed him her life, even if he had also dragged her into trouble. Well, it was also partly her fault for stubbornly pursuing him and taking his side against the mages, but it had been her choice and she assumed the repercussions. From what she knew of her courses at the Academia Aliénor and the points made by Velvet and Iskandar, she was very aware of the diplomatic risk the case could represent. She confined herself to the certainties she had, and did not venture into conjectures whose veracity she was not sure she could confirm, such as the exact provenance of the mages. The Frenchwoman also decided not to be bogged down in details of secondary importance to her, which they could dwell on later. She held the monarch's gaze as well as she could, not wanting it to be mistaken for defiance. If she felt in no immediate danger, she was all too aware of the power of the entity facing them.
Nervously, his hand dipped beneath his shirt and, grasping the artifact with his fingers, placed it on his palm, revealing the strange key of pure gold. The Spirit-King turned his gaze on the item, before resting it in his own, watching it intently, his expression impassive. Rarely have seconds seemed as long as hours for the Frenchwoman, under this gaze both pensive and sharp. After a brief but weighty silence, the ruler of the southern kingdom of Sumer finally declared.
- I may have the answer to your question. Your coming here is not the fruit of chance, but of destiny. The Priestess of Babylon is destined to return to her temple, eventually.
"The Priestess of Babylon"? From the murmurings of the crowd behind them, it sounded like an important office with a special significance. The expression itself evoked a vague echo familiar to Adelaide, without agreeing to be specific. Was it linked to the famous "Adila", the patronymic firmly attributed to her by the priestess Aïcha? Adelaide could not say what was on the mind of the monarch facing them, but his aura seemed less oppressive than earlier. With one leg crossed over the other, the Spirit-King seemed in no mood to elaborate on his sibylline words, and addressed them in a regal, assertive tone.
- I am very busy, so I will grant you the right to stay in Sumer, but not the right to leave immediately. Until further notice, you will remain in Uruk, within the precincts of the Ziggurat.
Before Waver could protest or Adelaide could speak, the august Spirit turned away from them and turned his sharp crimson eyes on the green-clad priestess.
- Siduri, guide them to their quarters. They will stay there until I summon them.
Her heart clenched with nervousness; Adelaide turned to Waver. Although just as tense as she, the Briton nodded negatively. There was neither cause nor authority for protest. The voice of the King Spirit was law in the kingdoms. Not even his position with Iskandar could influence the decision made by one of the two Kings of Sumer. Aisha wanted to follow her example, but was dissuaded by the priestess named Siduri, while another barefaced priestess held the young priestess draped in blue by the shoulder. Adelaide gave her a grateful smile, but nodded back in the negative. She had already risked enough for them. The young priestess had her own delegation to see through. Although he was trying hard not to let anything show, the Frenchwoman could see the tension in Waver's face, whether in the slight twitch of his jaw, his shady eyes or his clenched fist. The Briton said not a word to her as they were led, under guard, through the corridors of the Sumerian palace. The guards watched their every word and gesture. For the time being, it was probably best to comply and keep a low profile, especially in non-allied territory.
They were led to a more secluded wing of the immense building, which was no doubt intended to houseguests rather than prisoners. Adelaide came to this conclusion by observing the furnishings at their disposal, as well as the refinement of the décor and fittings, considering the hypothetical temporal era in which they must have found themselves. Each element brought a precious piece of information, just like the dress of the inhabitants, the runes that were engraved in places or the idiom that was in force and that Aïcha had defined as Sumerian. Certain elements of the décor, in particular the mythical, massive entrance gates to the city of azure and gold, were highly revealing of the geographical area and civilizational era in which they were located. The furnishings, compared to the modern era to which they both belonged, may have seemed more rustic, austere and archaic, but they were no less high quality here. His curious, wondering eyes scrutinized the various elements from every angle. The prospect of getting answers to her questions was exciting for the young girl, and her mind was filled with excitement by the attractive novelty of everything she discovered on the premises.
- Will you stop wandering around for two minutes like a happy idiot? Growled Waver, who was sporting the most scowl she had ever seen on him.
- If I had to choose, I would rather be a happy idiot than an embittered sage - replied the Frenchwoman humorously, before retorting when she saw the British man's features frown with annoyance - come on, do not take everything personally! To answer your question, no. There are so many interesting things to see since we arrived here, and even more in this city, so much to discover!
- Do you realize that the slightest misstep and we will literally lose our heads? Waver retorted.
- I am aware of that. However, there is not much we can do now, apart from Attendre et espérer! - commented Adelaide, reluctantly agreeing to sit down on the edge of the bunk, before adding, faced with the annoyed look on the Briton's face - What? It is in French! Haven't you ever read Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo? It is a classic!
- I know my classics, who do you think I am? Riposted Waver, stung - Anyways, this is not the Château d'If and we do not have an Abbé Faria. This is not fiction. This is reality!
- I knows. What is the point of me moaning and groaning about the situation? Replied the Frenchwoman in a more pinched tone, arms folded across her chest.
- It would not do any good. It would only make things worse. Waver grumbled.
- You see. You said it yourself, there is no point. So, keep cool. We are in the Spirit World, as planned, but not in the right kingdom, not as planned. A bit in the middle of nowhere at first, I grant you, but we made it to the city and met the ruler! Moreover, on the bright side, we are still alive! Says Adelaide.
- For now. We are being held here, for who knows how long, with a sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, at the mercy of the King Spirit's will. Wonderful.
Feeling annoyance creep into her mind at the sarcasm and pessimism of her companion in misfortune, Adelaide drew in a deep breath before letting out a long sigh. She remained silent, however, and looked away. Let him stay draped in his bad mood, if he wanted to! She did not appreciate his sudden defeatism, but preferred not to add fuel to the fire. They would gain nothing by arguing, especially as they would have to make do with their only company for they-didn't-know-how-long yet. Too bad, she did not have anything to read while she waited. Her own bad faith aside, she could hear her partner's arguments. Only Aïcha's guarantees and the mysterious key had guaranteed them a reprieve rather than immediate death. Waver's position was even more uncomfortable than hers was, although he was better protected. She was only a civilian until proven otherwise, whatever the young priestess might say. She had no certainty of being the famous "Adila" the Sumerian had told them about.
The Frenchwoman gave little weight to the bizarre dreams that haunted her, and to her truncated memory. On the other hand, from what she could deduce, Waver obviously occupied an important role. In addition, by virtue of his position - and the esteem in which Rider held him, obviously - he was closely linked to Iskandar. Any blunder on his part could have unsuspected repercussions for the King of Conquerors. Fleury had no desire to be the cause of a conflict, like Helen between Greeks and Trojans. He had somewhere to go back to, and at least one person waiting for him. She... could she say the same? She could hardly trust her parents again, and by derivation, her own brother. She could not explain to her friends what had happened to her. She could not risk surrendering to the Aegis mages; it would not do any good. She swallowed her pride and tried to break the ice again, finding it hard to bear the silence between them.
- At least we know where we stand. We are in Mesopotamia, and the temporality reflected in this world is that of the Mythical Age, millennia ago. We are in Sumer, in the city of Uruk, which in our time is equivalent to Iraq and Warka.
Waver did not raise his eyebrows, content to watch him with a withdrawn expression, his hands clenched in his lap. Yes, he had probably deduced it as soon as he had learned the King Spirit's name.
- The current reign is that of King Gilgamesh, the last ruler of the Mythical Age. This indicates that we are shortly before the twilight of the Age of the Gods, although I do not know how time flows in these worlds for events such as the Flood.
- Time flows, but the timeline is altered, and very slow. People like you and me grow old and die normally, eventually. King-Spirits and Spirits, on the other hand, do not age, they are eternal. That is why some people call them "Eternal Kingdoms". Time, on the other hand, flows uniformly within the various Kingdoms.
Ah, good, Waver was deigning to come out of his shell of silence. Returning to more rational, more scientific subjects seemed the right decision. Certainties were somehow reassuring. Adelaide offered him a reassuring smile and awkwardly tried to reassure him.
- Iskandar will not let you down. He seems to be a strong head, gruff, but loyal when he deigns to be attached to someone. He will come for you if he has to, I am sure of it.
- That is the problem. He will not listen to anyone; he will just do as he pleases and rush headlong into things.
- Is that a... problem?
- Yes. He is stubborn. No matter what I say, he will challenge Gilgamesh himself. Never mind the collateral damage that would have to be dealt with and then repaired.
- All the more reason not to alienate the King Spirit and extend our house arrest, in that case! Worst-case scenario, I will stay behind so you can be released.
- You have to be kidding! After all the trouble, we have gone to! No. Iskandar asked me to take you back to Macedonia until we find the Spirit you are linked to, and I will get you there. This is non-negotiable. Waver retorted with a deep voice and a rare firmness.
For someone who seemed lacking in self-confidence, who could be arrogant, even cowardly and sarcastic, he could take a stand, demonstrate courage and loyalty. A shadow of a smile lingered on Fleury's lips, soft and amused, as she commented.
- You two really are a pair.
- What exactly are you implying? Waver asked suspiciously, one eyebrow arched.
Adelaide merely let out a short burst of laughter, but added no comment despite Waver's insistence that she would not elaborate. The observation left an indescribably bittersweet taste in her mind, but she preferred to see the Briton with his usual response and bite than huddled in on himself and stunned by pessimism. It suited her better. She got up and walked over to a small table nearby, grabbing two dates from a fruit basket. Turning to Waver, she tossed him one of the two fruits. Surprised, he caught the projectile by reflex, relaxing as he realized it was just a date and not some pugilistic fight. Mischievously, hoping to loosen him up a little, Adelaide settled back on the corner of the bed and declared.
- Well, as long as it takes, we have plenty of time. Why don't you tell me how you met your King? Was it love at first sight at the top of the Clock Tower?
- Could you please stop projecting your yaoi fantasies onto me? Waver bitingly asserted; his eyes shadowy.
- I am not really into manga, I prefer Seinen. Joking aside, how did you meet? Did you get lost there, as they say for the "Wanderers"?
- Do I ask you any questions? Curious!
- Well, as it happens, you did, when we were still in London.
- Basic ones not like "how did you meet what's-his-name"?
- Ah, maybe you prefer to mope around in your thoughts. I thought it would be a nice way to pass the time, but far be it from me to deprive you of your hobbies. That would be criminal.
- You are not going to leave me alone. Is it French, or is it just you?
- What do you think? Adelaide asked with a mischievous smile.
Waver grumbled and grumbled and grumbled, grumbling at the nerve of the "frog-eaters". When he'd finished grumbling, just as she was about to change her mind and get up again to scan every element of the room and think as she walked, the Briton gestured to her to remain seated. He let out a sonorous, heartfelt sigh, arms folded, before resting his dark eyes on her. His lips finally parted.