“In Kel and Imra, ancient sisters twine,
Where jungles wild, in fierce embrace, recline.
Kel’s boughs with macaws, proud and free,
Imra’s vines dance, where monkeys flee.
Divided by fate, a river’s scar,
Two cities stand, yet not too far.
Yet, their wilds grow, untamed, undimmed,
Nature’s splendor, through ages, brimmed.
Let Kel and Imra’s kin, at last, decree
In unity lies strength, the lock and key.
To mend the rift, to heal, to rise,
And in renewed bond, touch sacred skies.”
– Fintale, Our World in Words
A knock on his office door.
“Come in.” Torn from his daydreams, Omvar straightened his tie. The heavy door creaked open, revealing a young woman with fiery red hair and bright green eyes. A tight-fitting black dress emphasized her curves, revealing a tantalizing hint of cleavage. “Ravena,” he sighed, a faint smile betraying his composure.
“A splendid day to you too, my dear Omvar,” the woman practically sang, offering a theatrical bow. He rolled his eyes in response.
It was hard to imagine, looking at her, but as a Kelian Delegate, it would have been barely an inconvenience for Ravena to obliterate him in an instant. Likely none at all. By no means incidentally, she also belonged to that select group of Elevated whose believers were under Omvar’s personal supervision. Ravena had an uncanny knack for manipulating others, effortlessly swaying people even when they were fully conscious of her influence. Omvar had to admit he found her more than a bit alluring, though he tried not to let that cloud his judgment too much. At least not today.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ravena?” he asked, striving to maintain a tone of professional neutrality.
“I just wanted to check if you maybe needed any assistance with your work, that’s all,” she replied, sauntering over to his desk and leaning against it. The way the fabric of her dress tightened around her hips as she moved was not lost on Omvar. He quickly averted his gaze, forcing his attention on the shelves of binders behind her.
“I appreciate your offer, Ravena,” he replied, intentionally curt, “but I believe I can handle things on my own today.”
“As you wish.” Ravena smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. “But remember, if you require anything, anything at all, you know where to find me,” she cooed, tracing her finger along his desk. As she retreated, hips swaying provocatively, Omvar’s eyes lingered a moment too long before snapping back to his desk—his fingers tapping in restless desire.
Another sigh, this time inaudible. Many women were drawn to men of power, but the cunning ones were attracted to those who could give them power. After all, who counted too closely whether Ravena gained a couple of new followers? And, if their professional relationship sometimes ventured into the personal realm, could anyone really blame him? He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He was never going to get any work done like that.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” came the purring voice from the doorway, “Minister Tarene wishes to speak with you. Don’t ask me why, I’m just the messenger.” Ravena leaned against the doorframe, blowing him a playful air kiss.
With a sigh, Omvar massaged his temples. Even on a good day, encountering Tarene was not a prospect he relished. He often wondered what the immense machinery that called itself the Ministry of Faith would do, if it were not for Tarene as the embodiment of ruthless efficiency. He certainly knew what he would do. Sleep easier. The woman often came dangerously close to uncovering some of Omvar’s...irregularities.
He gathered his documents, rose, and straightened his jacket, trying to appear presentable. “Thanks for informing me, Ravena. Actually, I believe I’ll go see her now.” Ravena offered a knowing smirk and left without another word, hips swaying as she retreated. He could swear that she liked to see him squirm.
Shaking off his lingering thoughts about Ravena, Omvar navigated the corridors of the Ministry, heading toward Tarene’s office. His mind was a whirlwind of speculation about why he was being summoned. Could she have found out about his schemes at last? That would be… unfortunate, to say the least. Or was this maybe just a coincidence? Unlikely. Tarene never summoned him without reason; this was no trivial affair. Despite his efforts to remain composed, Omvar felt his level of anxiety rise steadily as he walked.
He passed several government officials in the hallways, all of whom seemed engrossed in their daily tasks, upholding the Tetrarchy. Just as he was spiraling down another episode of paranoia, a young man donned in formal livery, rushing in the opposite direction, abruptly halted upon noticing Omvar, a frown blooming on his face.
He waved to get Omvar’s attention. “Excuse me, are you Bureaucrat Second Class – Devotional Allocation Omvar Dravan?” Omvar nodded curtly. “Thank. The. Belt!” The man looked like his day had been turned from devastating into merely frustrating. “There’s a critical matter that requires your immediate attention. The Minister herself has requested you. Please, come with me.”
Without further ado, he turned on his heel and strode toward the end of the hall, clearly expecting Omvar to follow. So, he thought, we’re not going to her office. A knot of apprehension formed in Omvar’s stomach as he fell in step behind the official. What could be so urgent that it demanded his attention right away?
After a brief but brisk walk, the man led Omvar into a meeting chamber. A group of men and women stood huddled around a large map on an even larger table at which they agitatedly pointed, engrossed in intense discussion. They all wore robes emblazoned with silver symbols akin to those on the Ministry’s armor. Although Omvar did not recognize all of them, a few faces looked vaguely familiar. Section heads, mostly. Not a good sign in any scenario.
They seemed to instinctively form a semi-circle around a central figure: a stern-looking woman with short, neatly trimmed gray hair that framed her austere dark face. She wore a crisp black-and-silver ensemble, practical yet flattering. Tarene, the Kelian Minister of Faith. God of gods, as any first-year hire inevitably quips, to the groans of the rest of the office.
As Omvar tentatively approached the table, Tarene turned her head toward him, prompting the others to follow suit. Omvar cringed inwardly. Every interaction with that woman felt like walking on eggshells.
“Ah, Omvar, you’re here. Good,” Tarene said, voice clipped and all-business. Omvar could swear that this woman would burn down the entire Ministry without blinking an eye, if it was in the interest of the Tetrarchy.
He swallowed. Now it comes, he thought. The arrest, the torture, the execution. He wondered what the official reason would be, Omvar retired to spend more time with his family? No one crossed the Ministry. No one. You have to have faith in something, after all. Inwardly shaking, Omvar met Tarene’s gaze with what he hoped passed for a defiant look. That was the only thing he could do now, after all.
“We have a situation on Algis that requires your attention,” Tarene explained, gesturing toward the map. As she spoke, the others at the table shifted their attention away, as if already discarding him.
What? Omvar almost blurted out loud. Not the words he had expected. Ignoring his stunned reaction, Tarene continued, her gaze unflinching. “This morning, we received a report about the discovery of ruins on the island. We think they’re linked to an ancient religious sect that once inhabited the area. Pre-Tetrarchy era.”
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A religious sect? This was certainly a departure from his usual assignments. Omvar risked a glance at the map and spotted the black markers on the small island beyond the Strait of Alghenon, to the south of the Belt. “Okay,” he asked slowly, trying to keep his voice steady. “What do you need me to do?” Don’t slip up now, he thought, this could end well after all. Maybe just some believer reallocations toward the expedition team or something like that.
“You, along with a team of contracted Elevated, will travel to Algis to investigate these ruins,” Tarene explained briskly, as if Omvar was testing her patience with his questions. “Let me emphasize that this is a simple research mission, nothing out of the ordinary.”
Guess I celebrated too early. “Why me?” Omvar asked, suspiciously going through hypotheses. It did not make any sense. He knew next to nothing about investigating old ruins. Omvar could not shake the feeling that he was being set up.
“You?” Tarene echoed, her brow furrowed in consternation. “This has nothing to do with you. He insisted on having you on this mission, fanatically advocating for your expertise in religious matters.” She sighed. “I merely indulged him to end the discussion.”
Now it was Omvar’s turn to frown. “He?”
“Greetings, my friend!” A booming voice from the direction of the door.
Omvar clenched his eyes shut, silently wishing for the world to disappear. Maybe, he mused, if I keep my eyes closed for long enough, they will all just go away. Start their silly expedition without me. But, after nothing seemed to happen for a while, he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder and, reluctantly, opened his eyes.
“Orhan,” Omvar pressed through clenched teeth. Despite the chilly reception, Orhan’s grin remained undeterred.
“Minister Tarene here assigned me to lead the mission to Algis. Guess who I wanted most in the world to accompany me?” Omvar’s heart sank at Orhan’s words. “My friend, we will write history together, will we not?” Orhan tilted his head to one side. “Or, at least, we will write about history. All the same in the end, I suppose.”
Omvar knew Orhan well enough to understand that when he wanted something, he usually got it. He had a feeling the same was true of Tarene. He groaned inwardly. What have I ever done to deserve being surrounded by these people? “Of course, my friend,” he deadpanned. Resigned to his fate, Omvar sighed. “History and adventure, my two favorite pastimes.”
Tarene cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “Gentlemen. It is crucial—absolutely essential—that we retain control over any potential religious artifacts or relics that you may find on Algis, is that clear? Our understanding of this period in history is murky at best. Orhan will be leading the scientific part of the expedition, but Leftos will command the Elevated.”
“Leftos?!” This caused Omvar to whirl around yet again. “You’re dispatching a Delegate on a ‘simple research mission’?”
“Indeed,” Tarene’s expression remained steely as she responded. “He will accompany you. The safety of Ministry employees is always our highest priority.”
Before Omvar could express his disbelief, Orhan intervened. “Very well,” he said, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “When do we depart?”
Tarene gestured toward the map table and the veiled figure standing next to it. “You cast off tomorrow morning. I’ll leave the mission details to our liaison from Akhantar, which provides the Elevated accompanying you. Gentlemen, meet Elevated Rashaad. He has been briefed on the situation.” With that, she turned and strode out of the room, followed closely by her entourage, who did not even spare them a further glance.
Omvar and Orhan approached the table and nodded toward the Elevated from Akhantar. Rashaad was a muscular figure, mahogany face partly concealed by a black veil. “Welcome, scholars,” he greeted them sternly, yet not without kindness. Official would be the right word for his voice, Omvar decided, muffled by the veil as it was.
“Thank you, Elevated Rashaad,” Orhan replied with a shallow bow. Omvar stayed silent, brooding.
“As the Minister has informed you, we suspect these ruins on Algis are tied to a long-dead religious sect. The Ministry thinks that there are some sort of artifacts or relics in these ruins. Tarene wants those. Briefly, that’s our mission.” Omvar suspected there was a bit more to the mission than Rashaad was telling them, but he kept his suspicions to himself. For now. The last thing he wanted now was to fall further out of favor with Tarene. Maybe there was still a way that all this could end well.
“I’ve arranged for a fast ship to take us to Algis tomorrow morning,” Rashaad continued. “The journey should take a day or two at most. You and Delegate Leftos will be escorted by my team of Elevated and a few soldiers for security. As per our contract with Kel, Akhantar provides the Elevated for this mission. That’s why I’m here.”
As Rashaad outlined the journey, he traced their route on the map with a gauntleted finger, ending on the small brown dot off the Belt coast that represented Algis. The wrong side of the Belt, one might say. Omvar did not particularly like this. Discussions about logistical details continued for a while, but eventually Rashaad instructed them to be at the docks at dawn and dismissed them.
As they left the room, Omvar pulled Orhan aside. “Orhan, why do you hate me so much?” Omvar groaned. “What have I ever done to you?”
Orhan’s bushy brows furrowed in confusion. “In truth, my friend, it’s the opposite. I’m worried about you. Where has your enthusiasm gone, your joy of life? Isn’t it a friend’s duty to save his compatriot from himself?”
“What exactly did you tell Tarene to convince her to let me come on this mission with you?”
“I merely informed her that you were the city’s leading expert on practiced religions. And that I wouldn’t leave Kel without you.” Orhan’s grin reappeared. “You should’ve seen her face.”
Omvar groaned. “Yes, on the currently practiced religion, Orhan. Not past beliefs.”
“Cheer up, my friend! This will be an adventure for the ages. We’ll discover incredible treasures and uncover long-forgotten histories.”
Omvar rolled his eyes at Orhan’s enthusiasm. He was already beginning to regret his decision to accompany his friend on this mission. “Just promise me that you won’t get me killed on this mission,” Omvar pleaded, sighing deeply.
“Excellent!” Orhan’s grin widened. “You have my word, Omvar. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Into the unknown! I suggest you prepare your things and get some rest before we leave solid ground.” Patting Omvar on the back, Orhan vanished down the corridor.
Omvar massaged his temples as his headache intensified. This was going to be a disaster. He just knew it. Not like he had a choice in the matter though.
The following morning, Omvar and Orhan navigated the labyrinthine streets of the Lower Mervian district, finally emerging onto the bustling docks of Kel. Merchants peddled cinnamon and cloves from far-off Dorman and wine from Limrod, fishermen haggled over their morning catch, and seafarers roared bawdy tales. Amidst this cacophony lay their vessel to Algis, solemn and expectant.
The sun had yet to fully rise, but the sailors were already busy loading crates and barrels onto their ship, shouting at each other in a version of his language that Omvar could barely comprehend.
As they approached the ship, he felt his legs wobble slightly. It had only really occurred to him the previous evening, once the shock of this unexpected assignment had subsided, that he had never been on a ship before. The thought of spending days at sea—even if it was just the Strait—made him feel queasy.
Orhan, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with excitement. “Isn’t this marvelous, my friend?” he inquired, grinning from ear to ear. “Doesn’t this rekindle your lust for knowledge?”
“My dear Orhan, I lust for a great many things. At this precise moment, however, my appetites are somewhat... doused.”
“Aha!” Orhan halted abruptly, one finger raised. “It’s because you’ve never left Kel before, isn’t it?”
“Not true! I once attended a seminar in Akhantar. Nice little town.” At this, Rashaad, in the middle of a conversation with soldiers next to a stack of crates, shot Omvar a searing look. Omvar shrank into Orhan’s shadow and spotted the two other Akhantari Elevated, Jahan and Zara, deep in their own conversation, beyond the crates. Maybe a bit too deep, for it to be entirely appropriate. Omvar managed a weak smirk. Normal men and women after all.
As they boarded the ship, the captain, a burly man with a thick beard, greeted them in a deep voice. “Ahoy, gents! Ye be the brainy lads from the Ministry, eh?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Name’s Cap’n Jorn. We’ll weigh anchor once the swabs are done loadin’ the cargo. Find yerselves a cozy spot, but stay clear of me crew, ye hear?” Giving them no more of his attention, he turned and bellowed orders to his sailors. Great.
Making his way to a corner of the ship, Omvar distinctly felt the vessel sway beneath him. Also great. He cursed Orhan again in his thoughts, for good measure.
It did not take long until their cargo was stowed, and they could begin their voyage. Sails unfurled, loud commands echoed, and the ship slowly made her way out of Kel’s harbor.
“Look, can you see the port of Imra on the horizon?” Orhan was scanning the horizon with his spyglass and simultaneously jotted down notes, a skill that was a source of both amusement and envy for Omvar. “Did you know they recently developed an improved method for producing steel?”
Omvar did his best to tune him out. Instead, he concentrated on the gentle waves and the not-so-gentle churning in his stomach. The early morning sun draped the horizon in a warm amber glow, and he could taste the salty sea spray. It was almost beautiful.
Wave after undulating wave, cradling the ship. “I think I’ll go below deck for a while,” Omvar muttered, a hint of seasickness creeping in. Behind him, Orhan was alternating between peering through his spyglass and frantically mumbling to himself, fully absorbed. The man likely did not even notice Omvar’s disappearance.
The smell of saltwater and tar immediately filled Omvar’s nostrils as he descended below deck. The ship was surprisingly spacious, boasting several cabins and a communal area that doubled as a dining hall.
Omvar had chosen a cabin with a bunk bed and a small porthole, while Orhan opted for a hammock in the communal area. “I want to be close to the action,” he had said, winking at Omvar. “Besides, I’ve arranged for a sailor to bring me fresh parchment and ink every day. I’ll be able to continue my research even at sea!”
Omvar shook his head in amused wonder at the thought. Despite his best efforts to resist, Orhan’s child-like enthusiasm was infectious.
Very well then, he thought, let’s see what this little adventure of ours will bring.