Nahida nodded to herself and kept watching as Idris received the visitors from Fontaine.
He'd already clocked the entourage disembarking with Furina. At her side was her bodyguard, Clorinde. Behind them came Navia and a whole line of black-suited associates—there to pad the procession with presence if nothing else. At this moment in time, Clorinde and Navia weren't on the best of terms; even on the same deck they stood conspicuously far apart. You don't air domestic squabbles on a state visit.
One look at the lineup told Idris the easiest person to "handle" here was… Furina herself.
He snapped his fingers.
From the roadway behind them a flower-decked carriage rolled into Bayda Harbor, garlanded front to back. Furina's eyes lit up at once. Nahida's expression, however, turned complicated. To her, this was less carriage and more gilded cage; this was the very model used to cart the little Lord Kusanali to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. And Idris was bringing this out to greet a foreign god?
Whether it was mischief or method, the move was flawless on paper. Diplomatically, he framed it as ancient custom; among Sumeru's people, it looked respectful and familiar; for the guest, it read as pomp and honor. Neat, clean, and unassailable.
"This is our flower carriage," Idris introduced with an easy smile. "In Sumeru, it has long been the conveyance for gods. When our little Lord Kusanali took up residence in the Sanctuary, this was the carriage that bore her. Today, to welcome a visiting deity, we do the same."
"In that case, I shall enjoy it properly," Furina said, pleased, and stepped aboard.
Everyone else… took Route 11—their own two legs.
"Welcome to Sumeru, all of you," Idris added to the rest. "May your stay here be a happy one."
Clorinde, Navia, and the others returned the courtesy with brief bows.
Another finger-snap, and the pair of Sumpter Beasts in the traces leaned into their harnesses. The flower carriage began to sway and jolt its way forward. Idris walked alongside at an unhurried pace; the Fontaine party filed in behind.
You brought that carriage just to needle me, didn't you? Nahida's voice chimed in his mind.
"As if," he replied, still smiling. "It's well-designed, very Sumeru—worth keeping as a symbol. What happened to you on it is the past. From now on, it's just an emblem. If you can't step over that shadow… then I'll carry you over it."
"You're as willful as ever," she sighed, then softened. "All right. I'll go along with your way."
Idris glanced toward the window where Furina sat. "Lady Furina, I'm curious—why come to Sumeru now?"
She hesitated, then chose the honest answer. "I heard a song on your Sumeru music player—'Daughter of the Sea.' Its lyrics… fit me, far too well. I wanted to know what moved you to write a song like that."
"Akasha," Idris said smoothly. "We built it on the Wisdom God's learning. I asked it to help me compose something that would suit Fontaine's Hydro Archon—and that was the song it helped bring forth."
"Oh. I see." That explanation sat comfortably with her: if the Wisdom God had seen through her, well, that was only natural.
In the back of his mind, Nahida rolled her eyes. Our Akasha can do many things, but writing that was you, and you know it.
Furina pressed on. "Grand Sage Idris, they say you're the keenest mind among mortals. What do you make of our prophecy?"
"Your Fontaine prophecy?" he echoed.
She recited it: that all Fontainians would be submerged, that only the Water God would be left weeping on the throne, and that only then would the nation's sins be absolved.
Idris's thoughts flicked to the "original script," to how the Dragon King and the Water God pulled the strings while the Traveler played glorified cameraman—even the big whale at the end had been the Dragon King's fight in all but name. A tidy stage, whether or not the out-of-towner showed up. And the cost: the Water God's throne.
Not this time.
"If all sins are absolved," he mused aloud, "the worst reading is that everyone dies. That, too, washes guilt away. As a researcher I've seen a certain extremely corrosive water—aqua regia. Leave a person in it long enough, the flesh goes to slurry. Ordinary seawater would only drown—but with Fontaine's folk blessed by Hydro, even drowning grows less likely. So if the prophecy hinges on 'water,' then the water itself is wrong."
Furina's eyes brightened. "As expected of you—your conjecture has logic we've neglected. None of us framed it as the water being at fault."
Idris tapped his chin. By the current timeline, Fontaine's missing girls case shouldn't be solved yet, but threads would exist.
"Tell me," he said, "these disappearances you've been seeing… are the victims all born and raised in Fontaine? No foreign travelers among the vanished?"
Furina blinked—then nodded. "Yes. You're right. We hadn't had a single non-Fontainian victim."
"Then there is likely something in Fontainian blood that reacts with a particular kind of water—triggering a unique pathological response," he concluded. "Medically speaking, a congenital condition—one shared by your people. As it happens… I have a pill that can alter a person's bloodline."
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