Orrin felt exhausted as he watched Sayrin exit through the massive black marble doors of his personal terrace. It had been several days since he last slept, but even still, he hadn’t felt this tired in years.

Cain had been… well, he had been Cain. Which meant that Orrin had spent the entirety of his visit fending off the man's utterly oppressive aura to create a safe haven for his troops, even if only just a small one. He’d been more than capable of doing it, and it helped that Cain seemed more than willing to allow Orrin’s own fight against his aura, not truly trying to enforce his will on Orrin.

It was a statement, as clear and blunt as if he’d walked in the central palace and punched Orrin straight in the jaw. He was projecting to everyone in the building, in the city even, to the staff, the officers under his command, everyone that he was stronger than Orrin, and that his was the more powerful aura.

Orrin hadn’t minded, not really. He felt a small chip on his shoulder from the simple brazenness in the face of most customs of hospitality, but at the end of the day, Cain simply was more powerful than him. He wasn't the most powerful in the city though, as the Royal family, the King especially, needed only to descend from the north to put Orrin, Cain, and everyone else in the city to shame. To say nothing of their divine lord, whose whims and whereabouts were known to none, unfathomable and unstoppable.

All of this, Orrin thought about, and from all of this, he let out a sigh, allowing his shoulders to slump. He walked over to the small table and chair he’d sat in while conversing with Cain, and collapsed down, hands rubbing his eyes to try and work out some of his exhaustion. He would never appear like anything less than the perfect soldier in front of his men. In front of his family. In front of the eyes of the fickle crowds. He always, always had to project strength. Orrin was fully aware that, for many, he was a rock. A foundation, an immovable source of relief and comfort. To appear as anything less, to act in a way unbecoming of such a station would be dishonorable. Reprehensible.

Which is why he was at a loss as to how he should handle Sayrin. He knew his malady, and knew he was taking steps to keep it contained, to keep it under control as best as he could. But there was still far too much slipping through the cracks, far too much that man was unable to promise. In Orrin’s mind, he considered Sayrin to be an exemplary officer and warrior. He was well trained, usually well disciplined, and usually held his own soldiers to the highest standard.

Usually.

But he had simply proven himself to be unreliable. When the going got tough, he needed to be sure, needed to know that he could count on the men to his left, and to his right. He needed to know that his orders would be followed without hesitation or delay and carried out to their ends. Not cut short to return because he had suppressed a 1-Star and choked out a lieutenant. No, sending him was good. It would do him good too, he hoped. Give him time to relax and to heal and get him away from the epicenter of this whole thing. Especially before it kicked off in earnest, as Orrin knew it would. They were so very far from the end of these events.

Sighing once more, he leaned back and looked up at the golden banners hung from massive pillars, fluttering gently in the wind. He watched them for a long time, thoughts wandering from one topic to the next as he had a bit of time before his next commitment of the day. A good eleven minutes to himself? “Practically a day off” he uttered under his breath.

“I am glad you enjoy this respite. Perhaps you need to take more of them.” Came the soft spoken words of a gentle voice, hardly spoken louder than a whisper but with such… pressure.

Orrin didn’t sense anything, his aura telling him he was, in fact, alone on the terrace. Nevertheless, he recognized the voice, the feeling it sent down his spine, and the sheer power contained in those simple words.

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Erupting to his feet and snapping to attention so quickly, to anyone below 4-Star, it would have seemed the world skipped a beat. One moment he was leaning back in his chair, the next standing rigid as a board. Eyes trained on the horizon; hands glued to his sides.

The small chuckle that followed felt like a warm summer breeze, like rays of sunlight, like the dawn of a new day. “Ori, please, relax. When have I ever asked you to stand on formalities.”

Snapping to parade rest, hands behind his back, gaze still fixed on the distant horizon, Orrin said “Lord, I couldn’t possibly treat you with anything less than the highest of honors. Simply the privilege of standing before you is the greatest gift I could want.”

“Oh little Ori,” his voice softened to the gentle rustle of the field in a breeze “Still so far to go with you. I still remember the day you got your first star, you were so ambitious and determined. Still are, of course, still are.”

Face flushing slightly, Orrin nevertheless remained stoic as he said “Please, lord, we needn’t dwell on my younger years. I was something of a fool back then.”

Blessing the world with a full bellied laugh, the sound seeming unnaturally loud, as if in response the world held its breath to listen, to cherish. “You were seventeen, we are all fools at seventeen. Why, when I had just gotten my class, I was a simple pottery maker. Not even enchanted, just simple clay work. I still do sometimes, it soothes the soul to work with your hands. Didn’t stop me from decrying it as the biggest waste of time and dropping it altogether for a couple of centuries. I thought myself above such mundane things as a 1-Star user. Again, we are all quite well and truly foolish when we are young.”

Orrin nodded along at the profound words of his holiness, committing each one to memory and dedicating himself to discern their true meaning. Out loud, he said “Your wisdom and experience are matched only by your graciousness in sharing these words with me. What can I ever do to repay you?”

The gentle sigh that came next almost shattered Orrin’s heart, for in the simple passing of breath, he felt the almost undeniable truth he had somehow disappointed the near omnipotent being next to him.

“You can repay me, young one, by sitting and talking with me. Nothing less will do.”

Not sure if it was the proper thing to do, if decorum would allow it and-

What was Orrin doing? He had almost slipped, almost made an error so egregious his skin crawled at the mere thought of it. He had almost made to question his patron, almost thought to ask better of his requests, as if he could even hope to match even a fraction of the sheer intellect and magnanimous thoughts of him.

Sitting down without another second to lose on the very edge of the seat with a perfectly straight back and hands places on his knees, fingers extended and joined, heels together on the ground, feet angled outwards at perfect forty five degree angles each, Orrin finally looked at the lord Gaius, patron god of Loterre, and current supremacy among all earthen users.

He was dressed simply, which was well and truly the best possible look he could have chosen. Perfection needed no adornments, no accompaniments. What use was there for artificial beautification when one was already the most beautiful just as they are? He had on flowing white linen trousers, no shoes or sandals on his feet, and a draping robe of gold, with green and purple trims accenting the edges and sleeves. His pointed ears poked out from the expertly layered and perfectly maintained waves of blackest hair, matching his closely trimmed beard and mustache. His skin was so deeply tanned, it seemed almost like cured leather or hardened clay, and yet was as smooth and unblemished as freshly fallen snow. He sat in the chair opposite Orrin, cress legged and relaxed.

Orrin took in every facet, every part and every aspect and every detail, and felt truly, undeservedly blessed to simply be in his presence.

The being before him, the lord of his life and the progenitor of his path smiled at him, and it was like clouds parting on a rainy day. Orrin wondered how he could have appreciated the sea and the suns and moons. The mountains themselves would bow down and worship at this man’s feet, and of course, Orrin was no exception, nor was anyone in all of Loterre. If Orrin had his way, in all the world. No other god was as resplendent as this, as noble, as kind, as true.

“Good, good. Now that you’re… somewhat relaxed, we can finally talk.”

“Absolutely, sire,” Orrin said, immediately breaking eye contact and bowing his head “Whatever you desire.”

“Then it’s time we talked about the spatial and temporal users” the wispy velvet of his lord’s voice took on a hard, unyielding tone “as well as the founders, and what we’re going to do about them.”