THE WAYFARER, PERCEIVING THE PATHWAY TO TRUTH, WAS STRUCK WITH ASTONISHMENT. IT WAS THICKLY GROWN WITH WEEDS. "HA," HE SAID. "I SEE THAT NONE HAS PASSED HERE IN A LONG TIME."
The Sovereign has not slept well for weeks; each night he tosses and turns restlessly, only to discover the next morning that his attention wonders and he cannot focus on any task. He falls asleep in his study midday, in a very un-kinglike fashion. Orestes’s thoughts wander when he talks to citizens, or they broach him with problems. The waterlines are not reaching the far end of the city. This summer is supposed to be especially hot in the desert. Do you think the citadel could spare some coin? We are still struggling with the damage of Raum. Why don’t we just close the gates to other Courts? A lot of good they’ve done us—
The list goes on, and on, and on.
Orestes finds himself more impatient, more dissolute, than usual. There is an aura of hopelessness that seeps into his nightmares, that colours his waking moments; an exhaustion has seeped deep into his bones, and the plea finds his lips every-night. Solis, I need guidance.
Ariel has observed the transformation with distaste. This morning, he is having none of it. He pulls the thick curtains of Orestes’s bedchamber open at first light, spilling it across the Sovereign who has regularly slept past dawn. The Sun Lion snarls, Wake up, through their bond. Then he is out the chamber and loping into the streets. It does not take him long to reach the soldier’s barracks, where the patrons recognise him quickly as the Sovereigns bonded. A sentry stutters out, s-s-sir in a questioning tone. Ariel merely lifts a lip in distaste before prowling past. Not many wish to stop a nearly horse-sized lion.
Ariel stops upon seeing a stern, dusty gold stallion, outfitting for a day of soldiering. “You. Come here.” Ariel demands. Upon the command, the secondhand man of the Triskevma follows Ariel back to the citadel.
Orestes does not know where they are going. He follows behind Ba’al and Ariel, who bounds ahead over the sand dunes with effortless grace. The Sun Lion stops at the crest of each to wait patiently for the equines, who are not so well-suited for the climate. There, Ariel burns, bright as the sun and too bright to stare at.
“Sometimes,” Orestes says, and it is not without a degree of scorn. Yet it is also humorous. The Sovereign laughs under his breath as he continues, "I wonder why Solis didn’t just crown Ariel instead.” In the early morning of summer, the desert has already burned off whatever humidity lay in-between the dunes. Orestes is relieved when they finally break from the loose sand to a hard-packed, windswept plain. There is nothing as far as he can see, but he trusts his bonded enough to doggedly pursue. Orestes knows the Sun Lion had demanded Ba'al accompany them on this "adventure" solely for extra protection, but Orestes trots forward to walk alongside the young Triskevma. He says, "How have you been faring, Ba'al? Tell me, what state are the soldiers of Solterra in."
And still, the endless desert, opening like a still sea before them. The sky on the horizon a blue bright in the way a bleeding wound is bright; a sun that tracked it away across the same limitless expanse, glaring down at them. Orestes is sweating.
"Orestes." || "Ariel." || @Ba'al
later he saw that each weed was a knife
"well," he mumbled at last, "doubtless there are other roads."
