If Idris could just learn to slack off a little, Nahida would be over the moon—and a lot less guilty. So for the next few nights, she said nothing, but slipped into his room before bed to warm his quilt. The result? Idris drifted off in minutes and—much to his chagrin—kept oversleeping.
With the God of Wisdom saturating his blankets in life energy and silently wishing he'd sleep in, even a Grand Sage had limits. It's not like he could switch on his "Divine Shield" and nap in invulnerable mode.
He let her be. Between stacks of memorials from every corner of Sumeru, he spent his spare hours honing alchemy. Nahida, of course, peeked and copied; at this rate she'd be the second being in Sumeru—no, the second deity—to truly grasp pillcraft.
Meanwhile, the new Alchemy Faculty's admissions were on fire. A few people tried to make trouble on purpose, but public support was overwhelming; the "obstacles" were drowned out in days.
He kept an eye on the Withering-scale patients too. Several more furnaces' worth of pills rolled out, though it was still only enough to handle emergencies for now. Not that anyone dared to rush him. He was the Grand Sage. In Sumeru, you don't urge the Grand Sage—you cherish the fact he's helping at all.
Two or three days later, while working through the day's memorials, two items made him pause.
From Liyue Envoy Ganyu:Grand Sage Idris, barring incident, we will arrive in Sumeru City by midday.
Sea routes were fast. The certain hard-working blond "errand god" was probably still chiseling through the Chasm.
The second report wiped the faint smile from his face.
From Tighnari & Alhaitham:Report to the Grand Sage: today in southern Port Ormos and parts of Pardis Dhyai, unrecorded "canned knowledge" containing forbidden content has appeared. We've seized many over the last few days, but they keep surfacing, as if an organization is producing them in secret. Since the Music Walkman launched, most handlers who knew the old tech have "gone legit," and the original black market has nearly been crushed. Even so, people exposed to these new cans fall into mania or unexplained sleep. We've quarantined the victims and await instructions.
"It's begun…"
He knew the source: the Fatui.
Anyone who ingested that taboo "knowledge" would be turned—repurposed as devotees for the Divine Machine and for Scaramouche. To become a "god" you still needed worship as fuel; with the Raiden Shogun's Gnosis already in Scaramouche's pocket, the Fatui would pave him a road of believers.
But believers who can be brainwashed can also be un-brainwashed.
With alchemy in hand, this wasn't insurmountable.
And Sumeru now was not the Sumeru of the old script. The people were steadier; Nahida had, for the moment, set aside leaving the Sanctuary of Surasthana; the domestic powder kegs had been pared down to two: the Fatui, and the Withering.
Plus, there was Idris—these days, very willing to hit back.
Let the Traveler come. Let Scaramouche show himself. Idris wanted to see what they'd try in his Sumeru.
Before that, though, he could indulge in something lighter: welcoming the guests from Liyue. At least until a certain blond treasure-hunter finished opening every chest between the Chasm and Gandharva Ville, Sumeru could enjoy a little peace.
By the next day, a Liyue treasure-boat was sliding into its berth at Port Ormos. The curtain, at last, was rising.
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