O'taomon | The Empire of Eraat | Interlude

"O'taomon was founded approximately twelve-thousand years ago," Olivia reads aloud. "It says here; Sultan Rejishhad Haziir sieged the city from the then proselyte nation of Etraea. A momentous event that shifted the war in Eraat's favor." She sighs. Reading in this old language taxed her, but she couldn't stop now. This information could be invaluable to her amnesiac state. "When the war ended," she continues. "The sultan's secular reforms were integrated into city life. Then upon the sultan's death in thirteen-thousand-five-hundred-twenty-two, a referendum was submitted for the city's secession from the empire." She pauses at an unusual word.

"So did it?"

Logan's voice startles her. She'd forgotten all about her companion snoozing away on the windowsill, leg casually dangling over a six story drop. His hair had taken on a tousled look from the spring breeze.

"What's that?" She asks dreamily.

"Did they secede from the empire?" He rises onto his feet and stretches his limbs comfortably in the dangerous view of the city. He wore a cotton sirwal tied down at the waist with a scarlet sash, his torso he left bare. The lean muscles making up his constitution contorts as he stretches.

Surprised and a little self-conscious that Logan had been listening to her poorly enunciated translation, she scans her summarized notes for an immediate answer. "The referendum was vetoed, however, after the death of the twenty-third sultan, it finally passed, though at this point much of Eraat's forces were warding off the growing intensity of the old war. O'taomon officially became a city state in the year thirteen-thousand-nine-hundred-forty-five."

Logan hops down from his perch and changes into his leather breastplate gilded in gold and silver. "Why is the Sultan's palace here if this technically isn't Eraat?"

This, gratefully, Olivia could answer off the top of her head without the use of her notes. "That never was the Sultan's palace, after conquering O'taomon, the Sultan gave the humble title of Grand Vizier to the Chancellor who had previously been employed under the Etraean empire." She shuts her eyes to recall something. "The Grand Vizier always served as a buffer between O'taomon and whatever empire decided to lay claim to it. The Grand Vizier comes from a powerful family much older than Eraat or Etraea."

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Logan retrieves the spear fastened to the wall with metallic clips. He twirls it with deadly skill. "Must have slept through that part." He admits shamelessly. "This entire time I'd been thinking that old geezer was in charge of this great empire." He retrieves a peach from the reed basket in the pantry. "Kind of disappointing."

Olivia giggles at his callous comment. "He's still an important influential figure, in some ways more than the Sultan."

He hops back on the windowsill, the wind picks up and ruffles the curtains. "As long as I'm paid I suppose." With that the sun finally settles beneath the horizon. He gives Olivia a lazy salute and drops into the streets, weaving the wind with his spear to cushion his landing.

In the past six years Olivia had grown accustomed to his dangerous stunts. Logan could take care of himself, he did long before she came along, before her memories were swiped cleanly from her mind. She reminisces those early days with fondness. The difficulty in finally being able to settle and begin arduous academic work had taken a while, somehow it turned out alright.

Shirhashhaat was one of the three official languages of O'taomon, and the most widely spoken globally. When she first awoke without any memories, she couldn't understand a word of it. Had it not been for Logan who found her struggling to get around, things might have turned out for the worst fast.

Of course that was then, now she could read, something Logan couldn't do well. Despite her fluent verbal comprehension, her textual comprehension needed significant improvement.

Privately she hoped studying the history and language would reignite memories of her previous life, though to no avail. She didn't like to think about her amnesia that much, it bothered her that she might have friends and family who were searching or her and she couldn't unburden their search.

She distracts herself with the northern view of the desert metropolis. O'taomon subsisted on a strait connecting the Ashhad and Ehthrisian seas. Their little humble apartment was located at one of the higher altitudes in the southern part of the city, far from the shoreline. Logan was preferential to this humble abode and Olivia could see why. Here they could observe the vast urban sprawl. Buildings old and new were organically condensed to keep the narrow streets cool.

She returns to her desk and rummages through the collection of books she set aside for leisure reading. The name Mahtammel Aljhebrai stands out, she grabs the book, nestles herself on the lounge and begins reading.