Tea and a view of the city. A heavenly combination. Literally and figuratively.
It always worked wonders.
But now it felt refreshed and had taken on a special meaning. In perspective, it might even become a ritual… a return to normalcy.
Quite the shake-up I went through… Yeah. Unexpected. Not that it was completely…
They warned me. I just didn't believe it. But practice provided the necessary corrections.
Yet the tea in the cup now suddenly possessed that incomparable taste. The taste of "normality." The feeling that everything is in order. With the world, and with Kyle.
Without taking his eyes off the view of the mountain metropolis, the VST agent took a slow sip, allowing the pungent warmth to wash away the residual bitterness of his Kantine impressions.
A place where tea was his only ally. And a beacon, reminding him that they had come together from another, more reasonable and beautiful place. And in the end, they would return there.
And so it happened. They were home... Another sip. Phew... Letting go.
The astringency and herbal aromas spread across his palate, washing away the memories.
His palm rested on the cool, perfectly smooth surface of the huge window with its impressive view of the ancient, majestic city, with its slender towers, their clay gleaming wet from the morning rain, soaring into the sky. The complex yet logical intertwining of aerial bridges. And the endless Ocean on the horizon.
He didn't just miss the sight of the city. He missed order.
Predictability. The knowledge that around the corner there wouldn't be a dead end in the form of someone's fence. Or a chaotic, yelling crowd. The assurance that any polite inquiry would be met with an adequate response, not stupid smirks. The monotonous hum where sound didn't startle but enveloped, helping him focus.
Their VST tower, the so-called "palace" as Inga called it, was actually his fortress. A citadel of reason and safety within the bastion of civilization. Nothing more, nothing less.
And he wasn't just spouting something lofty in a moment of exaltation. Not at all.
Real, over-the-top exaltation could have been observed when his self-propelled vehicle arrived on his native soil, and he barely suppressed the urge to jump out and start hugging the native cold rocks, the high-rises firmly rooted in them, and even the people who had once seemed so gloomy and arrogant to him. Suddenly, "his own" people. With a comprehensible, condescending arrogance of those inhabiting the information capital of the Mainland, born of strength and prosperity, not envy and narrow-mindedness. May this outwardly beautiful land with its fields and gardens forgive him.
He saw the flip side of one "unique puzzle piece of the Universe," another culture, and realized that some pieces have sharp, unpleasantly prickly edges.
…The same view from the window, the same tea. But the sensations were as if after a lifetime.
As if a stage of learning and preliminary preparation was over. And this was a kind of initiation.
His first business trip was an invaluable lesson. Any theory is always valuable after being tested by practice. And from that perspective, it all went productively.
The Chiefs, having listened to his report, remained silent. With those very expressions on their faces: "Welcome to the real world."
…Thanks, I guess…
The Prime native turned from the window to his desk, setting down the empty mug and scrutinizing the new creative chaos on the light clay surface.
His gaze fell on the small crystalline plant, a gift from his mother. It stood in its place, emitting a soft, soothing glow.
Held the fort here. Didn't let me down. Preserved the atmosphere for subsequent recovery after the heroically pointless assault on fences. Good job.
Next to it now stood a small, crudely fired clay figurine of a local field plant, bought almost at the very beginning at a Kantine market for a couple of small crystals. A souvenir. A reminder.
The encounter with the ideal turned out to be a failure. For both Kyle and Kantine. Yes, the gardens and food were objectively wonderful. It was only the ideal itself that plummeted into the abyss.
The rest, fortunately, remained in place. Kantine down below, and Prime, firmly rooted in the rocky slopes, up here. And Kyle with it. What could be luckier.
His eyes remained open. A little more cautious when looking at and approaching the unfamiliar. A little less distrustful of some old knowledge and prejudices. Some things had hopelessly aged, elsewhere a rational kernel still existed. For slowly developing cultures prone to a certain rigidity, it might hold true longer. That's how they live.
And he himself, as a person, is simply very glad to be home. To be here again, and to leave all that "swampy muck" down there. For Inga to study.
Her phrase.
The active agent even found Kyle's failed investigation results curious in every sense. Hmm.
"Clumsy attempts at data concealment speak of shady dealings louder than active obstruction."
…What an unhealthy enthusiasm… So similar to his own.
Kyle smirked.
Very funny, Ingefara. As always. Have fun down there…
…At least someone finds what's happening amusing.
Plonking down in his chair, the agent allowed himself a few moments to simply sit, head tilted back, and stare at the ceiling.
…So this is what professional burnout at the start of a career looks like.
But no, this isn't burnout. It's immunization.
The first inoculation against excessive idealism. The value is undeniable, but the process itself left much to be desired. Bringing a mix of profound relief and aching fatigue as the result.
Not physical fatigue, but the kind that seeps into your bones from constant psychological tension, from the need to be on guard.
He could feel sorry for Ingefara, but he won't… She'll handle it. As always.
Relying on her inherent healthy, sensible pragmatism. The sensible kind. Now he knows what the unreasonable kind looks like. He's seen it firsthand.
He would have once felt sorry for the Kantinians too, regarding their toxic environment… or the excessive complexity of life. But not now, when he knows that some people complicate their own lives immensely. And yet have no desire to change anything.
All the normal people, all who wanted to, must have already left Kantine. To live and develop outside that stifling atmosphere. And there are probably plenty of them in Prime already!
The VST agent simply hadn't paid attention to that before. Good luck to them. They deserve it. It takes a lot of strength to stop blindly trudging along with the rest, to stop, look around, understand what's wrong. And even more to dare to change your life. So be it… No point feeling sorry for those who live as they live and feel no inconvenience. A waste of time.
…A stage passed.
The Kantine maps are put away in the Archive. In their place come Omill schematics, letters and notes from Ingefara and her own brief dossiers on key figures, next to the standard VST ones. Thanks to her for the excellent preliminary work.
Sandra, Finnian, Kiona, Milo... He'll have to meet them yet.
His fingers instinctively reached for the tablets scattered on the desk.
The beloved creative chaos, understandable only to him, had been disrupted. By neat stacks left by archive clerks or the duty officer.
…That's the crime!
A slight pang of annoyance gave way to gratitude. Order is good. No one would deny that… But his own order is better.
He rummaged through one of the stacks, returning a couple of tablets to their rightful, in his opinion, place in the "free-floating composition," pausing his gaze on the third one.
Dossier on Sandra. Alessandra, actually… Yet, for some reason, no one calls her by her full name. Probably, he shouldn't either… Hmm.
Head of the Omillian Temples. Reliable, straightforward, strategic thinker, responsible. Sounds like someone you'd enjoy dealing with… She studied at the Prime Academy. Excellent.
With people who studied in Prime, within the same information field as Kyle and Inga, finding common ground should be much easier. If only because they already know Prime. Probably better than he knows Omillian.
This wouldn't be about barging into closed gates with a smile, a language textbook, and a map ready, but about acting through established channels. And the Omillian ones, by all appearances, kept those channels in order.
Who else? Oh. Finnian. That one. Well, well… No wonder the name seemed familiar. It wasn't just a feeling.
A legendary type. In a way. Quite well-known in law enforcement circles. More like notoriously well-known, actually.
He also studied at their University. Never finished. But they gave him a diploma anyway. For his talent and his insane yet brilliant approach to solving assigned tasks. So the rumors go.
Kyle knew a couple of stories about this character even without consulting the Archives. Just from university gossip. And speculation, undoubtedly. It will be very interesting to meet him in person. His age must be quite venerable by now… But, judging by what's noted in the dossier, he hasn't lost his vigor at all. Well… good health to him. And success… By the way, Inga writes that in Prime, Finian "got hooked" on our local tea. And advises bringing a couple of pouches for the Head Witch. Well, gladly. In addition to his own, without which he definitely won't go anywhere. It will be nice to chat with another desperate tea enthusiast.
Hmm. And who do we have under him?..
Milo... The dossier says the Head of the Precinct of Truth didn't complete a full academic course. But he was also present at the Academy. Well, well, well…
…Balanced, resourceful, calm, friendly…
Well. Sounds promising. Who else?
Kiona… Aha. Kiona as a healer and as a Salva certainly didn't need university training. Because the merits of Omillian medicine, intended for daily needs, surpassed Prime's in many areas, where successes were often academic and approaches largely innovative and experimental.
The stack of dossiers on these outstanding people already looked impressive. The adjacent stack contained brief information about the Omillian Chiefdom and the structure of city services. All this needed to be studied before the briefing. But, if you believe Inga, that's not the most interesting part of this whole case. Ah, here it is. Yes, here it is itself…
Kyle picked up a witchograph of Omill from the desk. Apparently taken from a mountain or some elevation. The view was simply enchanting and held your gaze for a long time. Where was this taken? The Prime native also wanted to be in that very place, the mere sight of which produced so much peace within.
The city itself looked… very interesting. Even cute, if one could say so.
It resembled previously seen VST witchographs, yet was utterly unlike anything he'd seen personally. Round, of witchly origin, buildings with burned-in murals, no private gardens, but coffee bushes growing near every om… cottie. Oms here are called cotties. That's not important, but remembering such little details is pleasant. Huge, amazing glowing mushroom landmarks… It will be interesting to see them firsthand!
As well as to walk along these wide streets. Without dead ends and labyrinths of fences.
Excellent city planning overall! And water supply, it seems…
The witchograph displayed narrow water channels crisscrossing the city everywhere. Probably narrow enough to jump over, as there are no bridges in sight… Or they're just not visible on the witchograph… we'll see.
And we'll try that famous local water. Combined with coffee, of course.
I must say, until now the drink hadn't particularly impressed Kyle. And couldn't compare to tea. But if you believe Inga…
If you believe Inga, so far everything looks good overall. Omill, in her opinion, hasn't changed at all. Still just as beautiful, the air just as fragrant and fresh, the coffee delicious, and the Administration and the officials of the structured Temples are sane. The agent found it exactly as she left it on her last visit.
Lucky Inga, who by now has seen half the Mainland… Have to take her word for it. Especially since, thanks to her, he already likes Omill in absentia.
Imagine that. He himself dreamed all his youth of leaving his native mountain expanses and traveling. Seeing other cities. Other cultures. Other ways of life. Life itself from a different angle.
…He saw it. And happily fled from it.
I really don't feel like repeating that experience… But I'll have to. The Chiefs are pretty much insisting on his work with the Omillian Temples and Administration.
A bit scary, of course. After everything he had to go through recently in the name of labor feats.
…But maybe it's not all that bad here.
The thought of a new trip outside Prime didn't seem so terrifying. Neither delight nor particular horror. It wasn't the frightening prospect of diving into another nightmare. More like a chance to rehabilitate the concept of "work outside Prime" in his own eyes. And to dispel the thought that clashing with non-Prime culture would always be a catastrophe.
The same professional interest returned, seasoned with slight nervousness. His optimism, somewhat battered but unbroken, began to flare up again.
Not without the help of that same Ingefara, who provided initial information that something extremely… intriguing is happening in the main transport hub of the Mainland.
And investigating this through official channels will be much more effective. The locals are thoroughly irritated and concerned. And resolutely determined to put an end to the mess.
For her, as an intelligence operative, it no longer held much professional interest. But Kyle's reports…
The enthusiastic agent decided to head for Kantine immediately, without stopping in Prime. Following the fresh trail. Before they had a chance to conceal, forget, or re-hide everything.
Tibby would have been very useful here… But that wretch, with his characteristic "laconicism," took note of the received information but was in no hurry to reply.
Oh well. His business. If he wants, he'll join in. But for now, it seems he has things to occupy him in Zet as well.
Kyle needn't have hauled those treats from Kantine for those two. Although dried vegetables aren't exactly about "hauling." They take up more space in the bags than they weigh.
Since it turned out so conveniently, he'll happily eat them himself. After he's had his fill of native food in local restaurants and rested.
The "purification ritual" needed to be completed in the most optimal way. Everything needed to return to its rightful course.
All in order. A walk, lunch before the briefing. Then Omill.
But that would be later. For now…
Kyle unhurriedly left the office, descending the tower's spiral corridor down to lunch at the nearest restaurant.
Stepping outside, the VST agent happily inhaled the air of Prime, which distinctly had its own unique taste — the sparkling fresh taste of highlands, ocean salt, and the barely perceptible aroma of restaurant delicacies and… unstoppable growth and the drive for progress. Which was readable in the expressions on the faces of the Prime folk bustling past.
…Adorable. Could just hug them all. But they'd misunderstand. And getting in the way of progress is fraught. So, we suppress these beautiful impulses and simply go to lunch. It's for the best…
With a certain even pleasure, not bothering to raise his Prime-high collar or throw on a heavy hood, the agent turned his habitually wind-tanned face to the familiar, now slightly cold seasonal wind.
…Invigorating. As always.
Each step on the familiar cobblestones echoed with a quiet, blissful echo in his soul.
…Home. We're home.
Good… Good to be back in the best city on the Mainland.
You don't leave — you don't know. But now it's known for sure, this knowledge was gained through experience.
Reaching the establishment planned for his visit, the Prime native stepped inside.
Hmm. Cozy.
He had found this place recently. As a student, he usually lunched near the University at a dive where he'd long been a regular. But after celebrating his graduation there, to the sadness of the establishment's owners, he was forced to switch one nourishing spot for another. One closer to work.
What can you do. That's life. Everything changes in it. And these changes aren't bad.
It's quite nice here. Studying the menu will take some time… But not an aeon.
Now-moment he'll choose something already known. He's had enough novelty, he wants something stable and familiar. In the dichotomy of exploration-safety, a cycle of peace has arrived.
And that's a good sign too.