Author: Lurina

167: Nostalgia Trap (𒐁) - The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere | Royal Road

Loge | The Timeless Realm

The scene continued to play out on the screen, similar - but not quite identical - to what I remembered from that day. Kamrusepa and I made idle conversation about philosophy, while Ran occasionally cut in with a snarky remark or Theodoros with an anxious observation. Meanwhile in the present, the newly-arrived woman stood at the side of the table, watching her apparent-mistress anxiously.

"It's the weekend of the conclave," said mistress went on, raising an eyebrow. "Specifically from Kamrusepa of Tuon's perspective. I would have thought that was pretty self-evident."

"Well, I can tell that much," I spoke with a frown. "But... why? Why are you showing me this?"

She tilted her head to the side. "You asked for my help in understanding what happened at the conclave, since your own memory of a single reenactment is insufficient. Am I not helping?"

"This is another loop, then?"

"Well, yes. At the risk of becoming a broken record, that's obvious, isn't it?"

"And you're just going to... show it to me? For nothing in return?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, you stormed into here making quite a lot of odd assumptions. I don't believe I ever expressed reticence about sharing what happened over the course of the reenactments with you, much less demanding some sort of price." She took another sip from her cup of tea. "Why, I even showed you all those moments for dramatic effect."

I hesitated, my eyes darting from the screen to briefly look at her. "You said you couldn't even guarantee that was real."

"And I couldn't guarantee it wasn't real, either," she explained with mild amusement. "Maybe I just threw in a few fakes to spice things up a bit. Would you believe most of the murders that happened were actually pretty boring? You've retained a relatively exciting sample, all things considered."

I sighed through my nose. Even if her temperament had changed on the surface, it still felt like almost a waste of time to try to catch her in any contradictions.

I shifted focus. "...so why is this from Kamrusepa's perspective, of all people? What I'm seeing here-- Are they her thoughts?"

"Her thoughts? Goodness no," she dismissed me. "What do you think I am, some kind of perverted voyeur? Come now."

"What is this, then?"

"Simply her accounting," she explained. She lowered the teacup and prodded the dish away with her bare pointer finger, apparently finished. "You've met a couple of your classmates? You know they have some memory of it themselves."

I flinched slightly as I recalled the second classmate I'd met earlier in the day. "Uh, yeah."

"This is simply her testimony as such," she informed me with a casual gesture. "She paid me a visit here some time ago and did a little interview. I've been holding on to it since then."

I blinked in surprise at the straightforwardness of the explanation. "When?"

"A while ago," she answered casually.

By the timescale of this place, who knows what the hell that means. Kamrusepa wasn't one of the members of the class that Ptolema mentioned keeping up with, so this all could have happened a million years ago for all I could know.

"If... this is just an account, though," I inquired, "how can I see it happen? Like, physically?"

She chuckled. "Are you quite sure that is what's happening?"

I squinted at the projected image. It was being cast against the same blackboard used earlier, and on a superficial level, looked quite ordinary. But the longer I stared at it, the more I felt that... something was being communicated beyond that level. Or maybe the better way to phrase it was below it. Like there weren't really images at all, just the concept of them, with my mind filling in the blanks.

Kam's voice, at least, was coming through unambiguously. I hadn't heard it in a long, long time, but it wasn't something you could mistake. She simply talked too much for it not to be burned into one's brain.

Even if a lot of what she was saying was... not what I would have expected...

The Lady seemed to pick up on my reaction, smirking. "This place has special qualities, as I'm sure you've noticed. Suffice it to say, much like with my form, perception and reality can blur at the fringes."

"So, wait," I said, scratching the side of my head. "If I'm not literally seeing this, does that mean it might not've really happened...? That this could be something she made up."

PLAYWRIGHT: <clearing throat, speaking with abnormal formality> Not in this case! Rule 5 specifies--

"Let's not confuse the poor girl right now," she cut her off, before glancing back to me. "Come on. You'll want to pay attention to this part. If you're not careful, you might miss something important."

Old Yru Academy of Medicine and Healing, Auditorium | 11:04 AM | First Day

"Well," I said, standing from my seat, "much as it's been lovely musing on the existential horror of conscious existence with you all, I have someone I'm scheduled to meet before we depart in a couple of hours."

"It's three hours, I think," Su commented.

I gave her a mordant look. "Don't be pedantic, Su. I got enough of that from our friend Alexandros this morning."

"Sorry, sorry," she replied, flicking her palms up.

"You people are like vultures!" I remarked unseriously, smiling to myself as I reached into my pocket for my logic engine so I could double-check what the time actually was. "Always picking at my flaws like fresh meat. It's a wonder I have the self-esteem to get up in the morning." I flicked my eyes towards the other end of the table. "And don't you say anything about pots and kettles, Ran."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she remarked atonally, flipping over another page.

"Er, by the way, Kam," Theo piped in, "Ophelia was asking after you earlier, when you were preparing with the headmaster. She said something about you taking a look at her project?"

I quirked my brow-- I was surprised she'd mentioned it to Theodoros. I'd been under the impression she was feeling a little self-conscious about it when we discussed the matter earlier in the week. "She might've just waited. We'll be traveling together on the way to the sanctuary, after all."

"Don't shoot the messenger," he said. "Maybe she was, well, worried you might get caught up in things, once we're all together? Since you're such a fan of the Order, and, well..."

I almost made some faux-chiding remark at this supposition, but ended up nodding instead, my mind half-occupied by the fact my logic engine didn't seem to be responding as I pushed my fingertips on it. "I suppose with how much work I've been taking on with the faculty lately, I might've not done the best job cultivating an impression that I'm not a flake." I frowned, prodding at it again.

"Uh, something wrong, Kam...?" Su asked.

"My logic engine isn't working," I replied, frustration showing on my face.

Theo spoke up again hesitantly. "You've, um, kept it wound up, right?"

"Yes, Theodoros, I've kept it wound up," I spoke flatly, trying to disguise my hand as it fondled the little winding dial on the back. Truth be told, I did forget that sort of thing rather often. It was ridiculous that the Remaining World still didn't possess a proper miniaturized power source. "I'm not some child. I do understand the basic thermodynamic concept of machines requiring power to be able to function."

"Hey, don't get mad at me," he replied, defensive. "I was just trying to help..."

"Ugh, this is the worst possible time for something like this to happen," I complained. "I need this for the part of my presentation that explains my biodynamic power source."

"Biodynamic power source?" Su asked.

"You know-- Drawing eris from the body," I explained off-handedly, not wanting to get into the finer details in a moment like this. Ugh, first Ezekiel comes to give me his chore, and now...

"Perhaps Lilith might repair it...?" she suggested.

I snorted. "We won't see her until the start of the trip, and I trust Lilith's willingness to do favors for us like I trusted parliament back in the kingdom to conduct sensible economic policy." I shook my head. "There's nothing for it. I'll just have to fetch a spare at home-- I have the data backed up on my proper engine, so it shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience."

"Makes me wish I lived in the dorms," Ran remarked, "I'd be up the creek if something like that happened to me."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're so diligent," I spoke absently, then clapped my hands together. "Well, then! I suppose I better hurry off. I'll see you lot of sad sacks in a few hours-- Do try to get a little excited, would you?"

"No promises," Su remarked.

She said that, but I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was anticipating something. It'd been there, to a lesser extent, all week. In Ran as well.

Though they were probably the people I got along best with in the class - maybe matched with Ophelia, or Bardiya on the rare occasions we could avoid talking about politics - it was a little frustrating, at times, to be around the two of them, like there was always some joke they were in on that I wasn't.

Do you find that a little predictable? A little childish? I suppose it is, looking back on it now. We were just classmates who'd only known each other for a couple of years, and hadn't had many personal conversations. There was no reason to expect myself to instantaneously be an equal to two friends who'd known each other since the latter days of childhood.

'Hadn't had many personal conversations'. Hah, isn't that a funny understatement? Can you even imagine me having a personal conversation?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It's a story so common it makes me feel... My goodness, what's a good word to sum all the things I despise in the world? Base? Small? Tedious? Maybe there's no succinct way to put it. The feeling you see when you look at a pigeon or a rat. That you're nothing more than a replaceable product of the intersection between human nature and the modern world, without so much as a glimmer of exceptionalism. That you could toil away from an entire life and no one would give a single shit.

But I will admit it. From childhood, I had never been the center of anyone's world: Not my mother, nor my father, nor any of what might have passed for friends. And that leaves a yawning hole in you. A sense of perpetual desperation.

And the stronger you make yourself, the more that emotion intensifies.

All this introspection is getting a little dull, isn't it? Let's focus on the juicy parts for now.

Miss Ombrit's office was on the first floor of the academy, adjacent to the indoor garden area that made up the central lobby, while still being tucked away in a side corridor that afforded her a degree of privacy. An excellent spot for a public relations type; good for meeting official guests, good for avoiding confused students and speaking to unofficial ones. The construction was full of sensible little decisions like this; apparently the staff had been heavily consulted during the reconstruction process, and that ergonomic propriety was still visible everywhere. Fresh as a newly-cleaned sink, not yet distorted by the grime that would come about as organizational priorities drifted from architectural intent.

Did you know that in the Fire Epoch, before even the Old Kingdoms era and the rise of the Emegi, there was a culture in southeastern Europe that used to burn their settlements to the ground every generation? No, this is real; look it up. We're not talking about little tribal villages, either, but genuine metropolises by the standards of the day. Thousands of homes for tens of thousands of people, all reduced to cinders like clockwork! Archaeologists never learned exactly why they did it. Culture? Incompetence? A crude means of refortifying the structure's clay foundations? It's one of the great mysteries of early human enterprise.

Personally, I think they were on to something. Dynamism inherently requires perpetual destruction and reinvention. Think of what civilization could have achieved if every 20-odd years we all went, 'well, that was a fine run, let's pack it up and start over'! We'd have been living in Plato's republic by breakfast. A whole world of freshly-built academies, of cultures in harmony with politics and systems alike?

What? That seems incompatible with my beliefs about immortality? Fuck off. That's different.

Anyway, as I was approaching the door to the office, I heard voices from within that I recognized as belonging to the headmaster and Miss Ombrit. (Poppaea of Ombrit was her proper name, originally from the exile-realm of Umbrica, as the etymology might suggest.) I've always been rather good at sneaking around, so I held at the door for a moment.

The frame was thick, and it was hard to make out much more than snippets. But the tension in their tone was easy to discern.

The headmaster was the first to speak, and Miss Ombrit the second.

"...enough to damn well... ...consequences! We just need..."

"...not all of them... ...just children, and we're sending... ...insane..."

"...be fine, only the..."

"...anything could happen! In a... ...slip up, and someone could end up..."

"...professional, they won't..."

"...find out... our careers, this academy..."

"...fuck the academy! This is going to... ...the world! And you're... ...won't even matter once..."

I sighed heavily, closing my eyes for a moment. I suppose I didn't know precisely what this was about, but I suspected I had a pretty damn good guess. Still, I would have thought the headmaster, creature of small thoughts that he was, would at least have the sense not to proclaim 'fuck the academy' at significant volume while in the academy.

The first thing one must understand if one hopes to navigate society rationally is that the overwhelming majority of humans are completely incompetent. Including those with power. Especially those with power.

I knocked on the door. The voices abruptly stopped, and a moment later it swung open, Miss Ombrit's face looking out at me. She was a round-faced woman with straight brown hair and slightly tan skin; her anima script probably intended to convey mixed Inotian heritage. Her eyes were always perpetually anxious.

"Miss Ombrit," I said, smiling professionally. "You asked for me?"

"Ah, Kamrusepa," she said, slightly stiltedly. "Pardon me. You've caught the headmaster and I in the midst of a meeting."

Headmaster Ishkibal nodded to me from behind the desk, scratching the side of his beard. He was a little more subtle about it, but I could observe the hint of panic in his eyes, too.

"Miss Tuon," she said with a measured nod.

"Hello again, headmaster," I spoke respectfully, hopefully letting nothing about what I'd just heard show on my face. "I wanted to apologize if I embarrassed you earlier during the press conference. I let my enthusiasm for the research get the better of me, especially during some of the questioning."

"That's--That's quite alright, Kam," he said. "Just please try to keep in mind that the Order is still a somewhat controversial organization. We want to portray ourselves and your class as a bridge between them and the mainstream academic world, not as wholesale converts to their ideology."

What ideology? That people living longer is a good thing? Ridiculous. "I understand," I told him, nodding. "I'll be sure to take care with my use of language during the broadcast of the conclave proper."

"Very good," he spoke, a small smile sprouting on his lip. "I'm not sure you're quite ready yet to be joining me for questions to the press generally, but I'm sure you'll do admirably representing us before the rest of the community, as you always do."

I smiled back, but twitched slightly. He was always like this. If you did something to piss him off, he wouldn't scold you-- He didn't have the confidence for such a social feat. He would just slip a little implicit punishment in the margins of his speech, almost framing it as a sort of empathy; the picture of the it's-not-you-it's-me sort of man. If you really screwed the pooch - like Lilith had the other month - he wouldn't even speak with you, sending the coordinator or another lackey in his stead.

"Just remember that you, most of all in your class, carry the reputation of the academy on your shoulders. You're a significant face of the future of medicine, and implicitly of Grand Alliance policy in that area in the wake of the civil dispute."

"Thank you, sir," I told him. "By the way-- Do you know if Fang will be joining us at the conclave? I noticed their absence, of course."

He glanced briefly to the outreach head. "My understanding is that they'll unfortunately be preoccupied with an alchemical conference in Saoyu, but will endeavor to make a brief appearance over logic bridge."

"Of course," I said, nodding understandingly.

If they were coming, I wouldn't be the one in here.

Even if I could understand the logic from the perspective of marketing, the headmaster's attitude of unconditional compliance with Fang's whims always frustrated me.

"But, uh, yes. I don't want to keep you. Poppaea?"

The woman nodded quickly, then stepped over to a small table at the side of the room, picking up a small coffer about the size of a kettle. "This is a small gift on behalf of the academy we'd like you to deliver, as the representative of the class." Her eyes kept darting back to the headmaster; even if I hadn't overheard, I'd probably have realized something was a little off by now. "A small collection of first-edition books from the Mourning Period from our private archive on the subject of life extension, scants intact."

The headmaster cleared his throat. "If you can manage it with the rest of your luggage, of course. If not, then please pass it on to another of your classmates."

"It's no trouble at all, headmaster," I spoke sweetly. "I should be glad to."

I took the lockbox, feeling the weight in my hands. It did not, suffice it to say, feel like it contained books.

Old Yru was - and I suppose is, it's not like you can't still pay it a visit - a city like no other in the Remaining World. Tuon, the city of my young adulthood, indeed had a greater population, as did Ikkaryon, the infamous kindling of both the Mmenomic War and the Civil Dispute. Vir, Xattusa and Saoyu could be called fairer. Altaia surpassed it in culture, Tem-Aphat in the sciences, and Pallataku in industry. Qatt even just about edged it out as a financial center, at least when the Meritists were in power.

Yet no other city rivaled it as a melting pot. Before the city had become a city with the birth of the Grand Alliance, the Ironworkers had established it as a sort of meeting point at the very base of the bowl of the Mimikos, placing some of the few structures from the old world preserved in the Tower of Asphodel due to their great cultural significance at its heart. Though closest to Ysara, the Parties considered it neutral ground for mediating disputes. Other than a few temples and the headquarters of the Oathguard to keep the peace, it remained largely uninhabited for 1200 years.

When the treaty of the Grand Alliance was signed, it was only then - with the unification of the parties, preventing the need for a neutral ground to exist at all - that a city was founded to arise at the capital of the new political union. Hence the name; Old Yru, the city that was ancient before it even began.

As a result of this, even if the geography still rendered it prominently Ysaran, it was the only place in the world that had a bit of every society in it from the very start. A meeting of immigrants, to usher in a bright new future for mankind. Districts were erected wholesale by every major nation; seeds from which a cultural flower garden might blossom.

And yet. Some were more, shall we say, enthusiastic about that bright future than others. Rhunbard, still humbled from total defeat in the Tricenturial War and with parts of its government yet regulated by imposed Ysaran, Mekhian and Inotian administrators, was an enthusiastic participant of the new order only at the highest levels of government. Most of the citizenry still resented the situation.

So the Rhunbardic portion of the city - lined with tall stone manors at the inner stretch of the seaside, with slanted rooftops and imposing, sharp faces - never flourished, and in time became swallowed by less deliberate urban sprawl. Originally called the King's Harbor, It eventually acquired the colloquial name Quickset. The romantic explanation for this was that it was built somewhat in the shadow of the central mountain, so the Great Lamp appeared to 'set' earlier than normal.

The less romantic explanation, and perhaps the more likely one, was that virtually every structure was erected out of cheap concrete. A forest of grey tenements, as far as the eye could see, half-swallowed by the rain and fog.

It was there that I hurried on the tram, knowing it would be a rather tight squeeze to get this done, return to the dorms to pick up my baggage, then make it to Aetherbridge within the time I had. I could only hope I wouldn't be kept long.

In the shadow of one of the aforementioned tenements was a small tavern. I won't waste your time describing it in any detail - it was, suffice it to say, pigeon-tier, one interchangeable from thousands of other small taverns tucked away in deprived pockets of nowhere across the Mimikos. A place of old wood and stained-tables and the smell of smoke of all types seeped into the walls. I approached, the rain drumming harshly against my white umbrella.

Because it was around lunch, it was modestly inhabited. I'd switched to some of my old clothes so I didn't stick out among the locals. I looked around as I clicked in my seed key and stepped in, and spotted a figure (Ysaran? Mekhian?) still with their veil on indoors. This wasn't unheard of - some people worried about prosognostic events to the point of paranoia. But it was still abnormal enough to be a way to draw attention to yourself.

I approached this figure slowly and took a seat opposite them. They took off their veil, revealing themselves to a woman with fluffy, medium-length hair and a thin face. A mild surprise, somehow, but not enough to remark upon. Her disposition was subtly nervous, which I suppose was to be expected, given the circumstances.

She introduced herself as Zurupa of Mezikem. I gave her my real name; there was no point in a pseudonym, considering how narrow the list of candidates was.

As we'd planned, we didn't start our discussion right away. We ordered drinks - a small coffee for me, a beer for her. We pretended at idle conversation.

Then, once I was confident we'd blended into the background, I broached the subject.

"So," I said, lowering my voice only slightly. "What can you tell me?"

She shifted uneasily. "This place is a little more crowded than I expected."

"Well, it will have to do, unless you brought my stock certificates back with you," I told her, my tone blunt and calm. "I'm not sure to what extent you bothered to inquire after our schedule, but this is the eleventh hour. So unless you feel like doing this on the tram back to the upper city..."

"N-No," the woman said, sipping from her tall glass of beer. "That's alright."

I flicked my hand forward, as if to say 'go on, then'. I glanced out the window. The fog and rain together was enough to render the view little more than a swirl of white and grey.

She took a deep breath. "Please keep in mind this largely gossip. The bulk of this is-- Well, it's above my station, suffice it to say."

"I understand," I stated patiently. "Please stop beating around the bush."

She hesitated for another moment, rubbing her hands together.

"The Order is planning to release a paper on a new... innovation," she spoke. In contrast to me, she lowered her voice enough for it to be obviously suspicious, but there was no time to make a fuss. "Privately."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly a revelation." I lifted the cup of cheap coffee and sniffed it. It tasted like old ash and sugar. "It's an open secret that the Order still keeps to their old methods with research that tests the re-interpreted Biological Continuity Oath, just not under their name or their old flair for melodrama, isn't it?"

The woman shook her head. "This is different. When I say privately..." She leaned in. "It's not like usual, with a dead drop or a proxy. The plan is for it to go out directly to a select list of people."

I frowned. That was, indeed, extremely unusual - the Order generally prided themselves on the fact they didn't play favorites when it came to actually proliferating their research, acting for the good of humanity.

"This is for their benefactors, I assume?"

"There's overlap, but it's not that simple," Zurupa explained. "I honestly couldn't even make sense of the list when I got it. It's some donors, but mostly it just seems like random people from all over the world. Some of them are important figures in government and business, but others don't seem anything special at all." She reached into the side of her coat and withdrew a roll of parchment. "Here-- I made a list."

I took it. "Is there any commonality between them?"

She shook her head again. "I didn't want to attract attention by looking into it so soon."

"You're not being as helpful as I'd hoped," I spoke flatly.

"Hey, I'm risking my whole career here. At minimum." She shook her head. "You haven't heard the rumors I have about what they do to traitors. I'm not going to put my life on the line for a measly few thousand luxury debt."

I sighed. I felt like I never got through a week without wishing I had more resources for bribes.

"So, what does this 'innovation' concern?"

Her features stiffened. "I don't know," she said. "They're keeping it on a need-to-know basis for everyone but the very top of the pyramid. But it's big. I've never seen this much buzz and secrecy at the same time. People are talking about it like it's, well, going to change the world. Like there might not even be an Order afterwards."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to keep myself composed. "You mean, it's the one. The titular Universal Panacea."

"Well... sort of."

I clicked my tongue.

"Do you know what discipline the research is in, at least?" I asked.

She answered. I took a dip sip of the terrible coffee.