The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

Old Yru Upper Plaza, Residential Area | 12:39 PM | First Day

My throat felt a little dry, all of a sudden.

Earlier, I mentioned that it was obvious to anyone who cared to look that the Order's decision to extend an invitation to our class was motivated, in part, by nepotism. And that much of the line the academy was pushing about it being a testament to our skills and their reputation as an institution of education was kind of horseshit.

I was no exception to this. And before you call me a hypocrite, I bid you to recall that I didn't actually condemn it.

"What about him?" I asked, furrowing my brow.

"Before that, a question," he said. "Exactly how much do you know about the circumstances of your grandfather's departure from the organization, miss Fusai?"

"Uh, not really anything," I said. "I thought I told you when the idea was first being fielded. I've only ever met him a handful of times in my whole life." I rubbed my neck, looking away for a moment. "I heard that there was some kind of internal controversy? That he disagreed with the other conclave members, and they sort of... Politely asked him to leave, or something."

"That's all you know?"

"Yes," I said. I held my hands together tightly, fidgeting. "That's all."

He looked at me for a moments, then nodded as well, turning his gaze downward. "That is unfortunate," he said. "I was hoping you could help piece a few details together. Still, you should hear this regardless. But keep in mind that it is fresh news, so I cannot be completely certain of the details."

"Okay," I said, feeling tense.

"Word has reached me of a development in the ranks of the Order," he explained. "Supposedly, a faction of the membership that is nostalgic for your grandfather's involvement in some respect has been clashing with a faction that is... Not."

I hesitated.

"Two days ago, there was a meeting when the inner circle of the Order arrived at their sanctuary, that was intended to resolve the matter," he went on. "The group that remembered your grandfather fondly--"

"H-Hold on a second," I said, holding up a hand. "How do you even know about this? What did you mean by 'word has reached me'?"

He opened his mouth as if to answer, then hesitated, shutting it for a moment and seeming to contemplate something. "Without saying too much," he eventually said, "I have close connections to many of the academy staff and associates by virtue of my position. One of them happens to be a minor member of the Order - privy to some details, though not the most intimate. They, however, did not make their identity public along with the inner circle members."

I nodded slowly, understanding. Though the Order had unmasked itself in a general capacity, much of their membership had still decided against giving up their privacy. This sort of caution was common for a lot of things that had previously been illegal before the revolution-- A lot of people still had a fear in the back of their minds that the fundamentalists would reassert control over the government, and punish any mice who had played while the cat was away, so to speak. It was part of the reason that non-organic prosthetics, which were another thing previously restricted by the Biological Continuity Oath, remained unpopular despite considerable advances.

"Why did you never mention this before?" I asked, raising an eyebrow cautiously. "When we were planning for all of this?"

"Even telling you this much compromises their identity to an extent. There are only so many potential suspects among the faculty." There was reluctance in his tone. "However, if it is just the two of us, bringing it up probably does no harm."

I tightened my lips just a little bit. Something about that explanation seemed strangely dismissive, but it didn't feel worth making a fuss over.

"As I was saying," he went on, "The group that remembered your grandfather fondly has put forward the idea of offering you some sort of... Permanent ceremonial role, or honorary apprenticeship, within the Order."

I blinked. "What, really?"

"Really," he affirmed.

"Why? It's not like we had a serious connection," I said. "He barely even talked to me about his work at all before he died, let alone anything secretive." Half truth, but he needn't know.

"I obviously cannot speak with any authority on the matter, but I will say that long-running tensions in close knit groups can lead to peculiar patterns of thinking emerging as the culture becomes more self-invested and incestual," he said, his eyes narrow. "I would suspect that, despite the lack of a 'serious connection', your relation combined with the fact that you are also a practitioner of arcane healing was sufficient for you to be symbolically linked with the man, and that bringing you on board has become conceived as something of an act of posthumous apology to him. Indeed, this likely formed a facet of the motive for extending this olive branch to our academy in the first place."

I rubbed my eyes, frowning. "This is silly. I didn't want something like this to happen. I don't even really care about their work."

"Be that as it may, it was proposed." A frown formed on his face. "However, this meeting apparently failed to form a consensus. The vote ultimately ruled in favor of extending this offer to you, but only by a narrow margin, with the remainder strongly opposed."

"So people are angry about it?" My tone had become flat and tired. I really loathed things like this, where I had to navigate people's stupid egos.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say 'angry', but it is perhaps a point of friction," he said. "What I expect will happen during your visit is that the invitation will be extended to you, but you might also experience a degree of hostility from some members of the group. It's possible that there will be an attempt to jeopardize your initiation should you accept--"

"That won't be an issue," I interjected, crossing my arms and looking to the side. "I don't have any intention of accepting."

The coordinator looked a little surprised at my words. "You don't...?"

"No. Like I said, I'm not particularly interested in their work, and I don't have some special sentiment to it because it's connected to my family. To be honest, I don't even really like the idea of being there in the first place if it's really just to do with my grandfather."

"You don't care that you'd be missing out on an opportunity for tremendous advancement within the academic community? Connections with the conclave would open tremendous doors for you in your career."

"I don't care about that," I said, my voice quiet. "I'd rather not be dependent on a group like that, anyway."

The coordinator stared at me for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

"...sir?"

"I am very puzzled by your attitude," he eventually said, "but if you are sincere, then this is a relief. It means that I was worried for nothing."

"What were you going to say?" I said, confused.

"I was going to tell you that this tension could potentially jeopardize the academy's relationship with the organization, since it might either get us caught up in the politics of the group, or else cause a fiasco during the event itself, and I was going to tell you to navigate the situation carefully or defer accepting until after the event is over in order to avoid trouble," he explained. I could hear the relief in his voice. "However... If you have no intention of accepting at all, then evidently it won't be a problem."

"Good," I said, nodding a little stiffly. "That's good."

"Mm," he said, and nodded as well. "...are you alright, miss Fusai?"

"Huh? Oh-- Yea-Yes, I'm fine," I said, bringing gaze back up.

"You seem surprisingly perturbed by all this," he said. "Has something I've told you unsettled you?"

"I..."

I thought about exactly how much I should say in that moment. It was a stupid thought to even have, really - he was the last person I wanted to confide anything personal in. And it was all so complicated that, even if had wanted to, I'd have to tip-toe around four or five different subjects.

Eventually, I settled on an answer of 'basically nothing'. "I was just hoping there wouldn't be any complications to all this, that's all. This sort of thing is, uh..." I pushed some hair away from my eyes. "It's not really my forte, sir. I'm not really looking forward to it."

"Really," he said. "I'd thought everyone in the class was quite excited."

"I think everyone else is. But, well, you know me. I don't really enjoy these kinds of big events, with all this fuss... It'd be one thing if we were just going to discuss scholarship, but, well, having to navigate a bunch of renowned people projecting their feelings about someone else onto me, someone who I've barely even met, uh, well..." I smiled stiffly, letting out a breath of awkward laughter. "It's all a little uncomfortable, I suppose..."

Again, he stared at me thoughtfully for a few moments, slowly moving his clasped hands up to his mouth. This time, however, he stood up, and walked over to a different table on the other side of the room.

"Uh," I said, "what are you doing?"

"I'm going to offer you a small gift, miss Fusai, since you've done me a favor by by taking this load off my mind." He opened a drawer, and methodically searched through a few compartments. "Or perhaps a 'gift' is the wrong word. Think of it as akin to any textbook you might receive from me, if you prefer."

"A-hahah... Does that mean there's going to be a test?" I asked, because my sense of humor only emerges from hibernation during the most inappropriate moments of already awkward conversations.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Though now that I know your attitude, it sounds like you will be considering this entire weekend a test of a sort. Ah, here we are."

From the inside of the desk, he withdrew a small, brown leather notebook. The material looked worn - it had to have been quite old, but appeared well-taken care of in spite of that.

"I believe that it came up in the class at one point that I was also once a student of this academy, many years ago," he said.

"I remember," I said. In fact I could place it almost perfectly - it was about 10 months ago during the lead-up to our summer exams - but I knew showing off my memory annoyed people.

"It is somewhat of an embarrassing confession to make now, but during those years, I was actually somewhat of an enthusiast of the Order of the Universal Panacea. At the time, their writings were still taboo and difficult to obtain for people without influence such as myself, but I would still labor to do so with regularity."

­­That was a bit of a surprise. He'd never mentioned this earlier, either.

And it was a very strange turn either way - I couldn't remember a time I'd ever seen the coordinator open up about anything remotely personal.

"Of course, in those days, the Order's members published their work under pseudonyms. Nevertheless, with the passage of enough time, scholars who followed their work with enough regularity began to observe the traits of each contributor - their apparent areas of interest, their workflow and general contribution to the group, even the quirks in their writing. From this, enthusiasts were able to infer quite a lot about the writers, their work, and details of their personalities and traits."

"Putting it in those terms almost makes it sound like they were being stalked."

A small smirk came to his face. "Yes, I suppose you could put it that way. But we were young, and perceived our interest as only in fun... As the young do of most things, serious or otherwise." He walked back over to sit beside me.

"This," he continued, holding up the book, "represents my much, much younger self's modest contribution to those questionable labors, as well as information on their published work, and some of my own general notes about the organization and their practices. I'd like you to hold on to it, for me."

I looked down at the book, and then back up to him. "I'm not sure I'm following you, sir. What for?"

"As a teacher, and specifically a teacher of the arcane arts, one learns that there are two types of students," he explained. "Those who work best thinking intuitively and dynamically on the spot - who are better served by inspiring their passions then anything else - and those who are methodical, and prefer to prepare and amass foreknowledge to meet their challenges. Of all the students I have known, you perhaps fit most firmly into the second category, miss Fusai."

I furrowed my brow. "You're saying I should use this to study the conclave participants?"

"Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but if you are fretful about meeting these people, then I think it might help you to have a little more foreknowledge," he said, "even if it is somewhat old information, and much of it more inference than fact. All of the members from that time who still live remain connected to their original aliases, so you should easily be able to identity who is who. And if it is not helpful... Well, perhaps it will still make for some entertaining and topical reading."

I hesitated for a moment, looking over the notebook. I idly flipped through the pages, which were filled with carefully written notes, and even a handful of illustrations.

"You're sure you're comfortable with me having something this personal?"

He scoffed. "It was written by a version of myself from so long ago that I'm not sure it can be considered truly 'personal' any longer, but yes, it is fine. I know you are not one to gossip or misplace things easily, miss Fusai.

I didn't feel like I quite understand where this gesture was coming from, but turning him down would obviously be inappropriate, so I nodded and took it from his hands.

"It's very kind of you, sir," I said. "I'll make sure to return it to you after the weekend."

"Very good," he said. "Now, then. Time is short, so I'm afraid we cannot linger overlong on this moment. Would you mind sending in miss Hoa-Trinh for me, if she's finished?"

"Of course," I said, standing. "Thank you for your time, sir."

I headed for the doorway to the room.

"Miss Fusai," he said, as I was about to touch the handle.

I turned, and saw that his more more standard, more severe expression had returned.

"Even beyond these concerns personal to you, there are many things that have the potential to go amiss with this event. Like in your case, the members of the Order have their own objectives for this beyond cooperation with the academy, and have no pressing reason to care about anything that may embarrass us."

"I'm sure you don't need to be reminded," he continued, "but the exemplary acolytes class was created as one of the many programs intended to foster goodwill between the members of the Grand Alliance after the civil dispute. It is the foremost symbol of the academy's reinvention as an international enterprise, and of its dedication to fostering peace. If there were to be a scandal involving it, it would be a disaster for our reputation."

"Yes, professor."

"As a senior member of our class," he said, "and likely the most conscientious among that group, I am trusting you to do your best to ensure that does not happen. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Uh, yes. I understand."

"Good." He nodded firmly. "Well, then. Do your best to to have a pleasant weekend."

I stepped out through the door, heading down the hall to the front room. It was a little more spacious than the study - though there were still several shelves with books, the room also contained a simple sofa and a tea table, and was decorated in a bit more of a lively way. Ran was, as she'd been instructed, working at the table next to the fireplace, looking through some papers.

"So, what'd he want?" she asked, without looking up.

"Not much," I said, moving over to her. "Apparently some of the Order want to give me an honorary position because of my grandfather, so he wanted to make sure it didn't cause a fuss. But then I told him I wasn't interested, and that I wasn't even really looking forward to being there for the weekend. After that, he calmed down."

She nodded. "How much did you have to lie?"

If that wasn't a question you could only hear from an old friend, then nothing was.

"Uh, not too much. Oh, he also gave me this." I held out the book, which she glanced at. "Apparently he used to follow the Order's work when he was younger. It's full of his notes. Did you know about that?"

"About what?"

"About him having been some sort of enthusiast for them. I thought it was funny that he never brought it up before, but I thought he might've, to you. Since you're sort of his assistant."

She snorted. "He doesn't tell me anything special." She turned her head, looking to me. "Why'd he give it to you?"

"He said he thought it might help me navigate dealing with the conclave members." I smiled weakly. "I don't know if I see it, though."

"You gonna read it?"

"Maybe," I said, and peered down at the files. "Are you finished? He asked me to tell you to come in if you are."

"I'm nearly done. Just had to correct a few mistakes." She let out something half-way to a laugh, a smirk coming briefly to her face.

"What's funny?" I asked, curious.

"Nothing," she said. "Just had a weird thought." She looked up to me. "Su, why don't you go and head to the meeting point now, instead of waiting up for me? I'll probably be here for a little while longer, and I know you get neurotic about having to rush to things at the last moment."

My brows raised. "Are you sure...? I don't want to end up leaving you behind."

"If I don't show up, you don't have to go," she said, picking up on the fact that the real message I had just attempted to convey was 'I don't want to do it if you're not there'. "But it'll be fine. Hell, it's more likely I'll be late if I have to worry about you fussing."

"If you're sure," I said, scratching the side of my head. "I'll see you in about an hour, then?"

"Yeah," she said. "Try not to worry yourself too much."

"I'll do my best. Uh, do you know where the kitchen is?" I gestured towards the door. "I want to get a glass of water on my way out."

"Right at the end of the hall, door on the left," she said, going back to her work.

"Alright." I nodded. "See you soon, then."

"Stay strong, Su," she said quietly, as I was leaving.

I didn't reply.

I stepped back into the hallway, and followed her directions to the kitchen. The room in question, while pretty small, felt spacious compared to the rest because it was so bare and sterile. Even the coordinator could presumably tell that dining and reading didn't mix. I headed up to the sink, which overlooked a small, gated garden at the rear of the property, and poured myself a glass of water.

It was a little difficult. My hands were shaking slightly, and had been since early in the conversation with him. But I'd become used to being subtle about that sort of thing a lot time ago. For all my weakness, I wasn't completely hopeless at least appearing like a functional person.

I reached into my bag and withdrew a small tincture of colorless liquid. I held it over the glass of water, then let two drops fall, before putting it away once again.

I stared at the liquid for a moment, then drank it all in one go.

Then I looked up, at the window behind the sink. I saw my reflection, and stared.

At my small, rounded, freckled face. My tired looking eyes, with oval glasses. My long, fluffy black hair, tied childishly into a pair of braids that I maintained only out of an unwillingness to break any habit.

At first, I felt a warm feeling. But then I shivered - just slightly.

It's not too late, I thought to myself. You can still give up and go home, if you want.

Quit the course. Move somewhere else. Do anything you want with your life...

I laughed to myself, knowing how untrue this was, even though I was saying it to myself. Then, I looked downward, and withdrew a sheet of parchment folded up in my pocket.

Taking off my glasses, I read the small, neat handwriting on it for what must have been the tenth time.

Su,

I apologize if it's inappropriate for me to send you a letter after all these years, and hypocritical of me, since I told you it would be best for you and I not to speak after the conclusion of our talks.

At the risk of sounding like a busybody, I've been following the beginnings of your career intermittently over the past few years. Word reached me yesterday morning about the invitation your class received from the Order of the Universal Panacea from an old friend of your grandfather and I.

I don't know if you will still care, or if you have grown content in one way or another and this knowledge will be of no value to you. But you should know that that the Order currently has in its care a patron named Samium of Ur-Ysar, whom I believe I mentioned to you back when we spoke. Though you expressed a desire to seek him out, I told you that he'd withdrawn from public life so completely that he would be almost impossible to find. However, it would seem that circumstances have changed.

On the off chance you have forgotten, your grandfather and him were very, very close, far more so than he and I ever were. They were friends since their youth, and it was often said that he was his closest confidant. He was also, in his day, arguably among the world's foremost authorities on Egomancy. I'm sure I don't need to say anything further.

I can make no guarantees. But if there is anyone in the world who might know what happened to you, the specifics of your grandfather's involvement, and if anything could be done, it would be him. However, I understand that his health is in a grave state, and the members of the Order are struggling to keep him alive even with their considerable resources. So this may be the last chance you have.

To be frank, I was uncertain about sending this letter. If I were to offer my own perspective, it would be unchanged from what I told you back then: That it would be better for you to let this go. But in the end, I decided that it wasn't my right to make that decision for you.

I wish you best, regardless of what you decide to do.

Once again, I'm sorry for everything.

Yours,

Autonoe of Koranthia

I looked back upwards, and unfocused my eyes, so I was only staring out the window. I stood there like that for about a minute, in total.

Then I folded it up, and walked away.