Waning of the Sun Gods

Rain that Falls on May 9th: V

I should not have been surprised when it did not go well. But for once in our short acquaintanceship, I can't blame Yendai for the commotion.

It began when someone didn't know where Telra was and decided that its locale was the issue and not their ignorance and had spiraled from there.

Then again, I don't think Yendai entirely noticed it had spiraled. He isn't accustomed to the level of passive aggressiveness that the Sun Court could manage after all, and takes snide comments that wouldn't have passed by me relatively in stride. Incredibly it made him seem remarkably level-headed, which I know to be false.

Wondering if I am meant to tell him, I turn to him to see him staring thoughtfully into the distance. Now I realize that I didn't even notice that we had walked out together and I simply assumed that he would still be by my side.

I shake my head, mostly at myself. It's been four days. I can't take him as a constant, particularly when he will be leaving within a year. "And what are you looking at, Yendai? You seem very far away." I ask despite myself.

"I was thinking about all that business with the north wall," he says slowly, starting to walk again.

Perhaps he had been trying to look out the window to see if he could get a glimpse of the distant mountains that border our nation. I snort at the thought – they're so distant that you'd have to ride for days to even get a hazy blue outline of them on the horizon.

"I never realized that it was still such a big deal to everyone here. Down south we mostly just think of the war as... I don't know. Ancient history."

"But you're a spirit, aren't you? Haven't you been around long enough to remember it?" I've been assuming that I'm older than him, yes, but then I predate the war by a good century. A short time in an immortal lifespan, but a significant chunk of my own.

"No." He still seems very deep in thought, like he's straining to recollect something. "I don't remember exactly when I came about. I'm not more than about five decades or so, though. Um... that is, I haven't been a spirit for longer than that. I think I might have been a mortal before then."

That takes me off guard, though I recover quickly. Mortals becoming spirits are supposed to be rare, and only in times of great stress upon the land or populace. It's the stuff of fables and history books of the distant past – not something you stumble across talking to someone in a hallway. "I – are you certain?"

"I said 'think' for a reason. But I'm pretty sure. I don't know what else I could have been. I remember waking up in a creek and being surprised I could breathe underwater, at least. For a while after that I avoided civilization, so... I don't know if I had parents or what. Everyone in the village was happy to have me, but no one recognized me."

I recognize his air of false casualness when he shrugs, rolling his shoulders back awkwardly. "You know?"

I don't, not really. I was born divine, and always knew that I was destined for relative greatness. Not the throne – I thought as a child that my father would reign forever. But a minor legend passed down through the ages before I faded into comfortable obscurity.

Staring at him a moment longer, I wonder how many more times I'll underestimate just how strange the young man before me is.

"Your Majesty? I hate to interrupt," Rital very clearly interrupts, an ominously dour look on their face. "But a courier's just come to me, and you ought to take a look." Glancing briefly at Yendai, who cocks his head at the creamy sheet of parchment they handed me, they raise their eyebrow.

I glean their meaning well enough. "No need. He can stay."

"If you're certain, Your Majesty."

The red wax sealing the letter shut breaks with a satisfying pop, and it unveils itself to be nearly three pages of dense, cramped handwriting. Just looking at it threatens me with a headache. Scanning it briefly, I see the signature at the bottom reads North-General Ealshan.