Rynth: Four Beats

| 6th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

Three minutes passed.

The doors swung open, and Cali strode through, holding in the palm of her right hand a metal tray decorated with three finely molded teacups of bone china, each one painted with designs of various spring flowers with their buds stuck close together. Steam from the near-boiling tea welled up from the spot of the round teapot, the faintly sweet scent of Boroan green tea wafting into the air along with it that reintroduced the room to the atmosphere of the gardens outside. With a clink, she set down the tray on the table and began pouring the tea into each of the teacups before handing them to Raoul and Idri, taking extra care to take to her own cup last.

Raoul brought the cup to his lips and blew gently, waiting as the bitter-sweetness of the tea floated into his nostrils and brought forth an unwitting sigh of relief. Gulp, gulp. In one sip, he downed half of the cup, barely reacting outwardly as the tea flowed down his throat.

In terms of taste proportions, it was about even. He had read online before that Boroan’s main appeal was the complete equality in the duality of the flavors. Sweetness and bitterness in equal measure, specially nurtured in the exact two thousand feet soil farmers had it grown on. The plant never took kindly to being even slightly off the designated altitude, either wilting in a few short days after being planted or growing too fast and one of the two flavors overpowering the other depending on the error. It was like a spoiled child that had its sights set on a favorite and would not budge no matter how much coaxing. In the end, though, the hard work spent in cultivating Boroan more often than not created a yield unmatched by most in the continent.

Or, at least that was what he remembered on the subject.

To his right, Idri exhaled a similar sigh, her feet kicking up as she savored the tea joyfully. “Ooh… It’s so warm and sweet. And bitter. It’s like… tea and milk without the milk. Milk tea…?”

“That’s a thing,” chuckled Raoul, taking another sip. “Do you miss it? I’ll get you one once we’re finished here.”

“Please! Ah, before I forget…”

Without warning, Idri began digging through Raoul’s pockets. Her fingers snagged onto a wobbly, polyresin based figure and yanked it out before presenting it to Cali. It was a downsized scale figurine of her seven years ago, noticeably much younger and less haggard in the looks department.

A controlled laugh spilled from Calliope’s lips, and she allowed herself a slight adoring smile at the display as she took the figurine. “Thank you. It is beautiful,” she mused, inspecting the bobblehead that was tiny enough to conceal itself in the palm of her fist when clenched. “It seems you two have gotten even more closer than before. May I ask when you first reunited?”

“Believe it or not, just yesterday!” Idri shot up, almost spilling her tea. “I was in Under Buril for a really, really long time trying to find the source of a voice that was in my head.”

“That is news to me,” replied Cali. “When you left the mansion all those years ago, Master Avil had enlisted the assistance of his uncle Destin and the Azfalt Mercenary Group he presides over to search for you. They searched the entirety of Cias Buril but never found any traces of you.”

“It adds up. I did leave without taking anything with me. At the time, there was only one thought on my mind: to find the source of the voice. I did find it, and it came from the sword I now carry on my back.”

She cut herself off from the conversation towards the end, her eyes wandering over to the broken blade that had affixed itself to Idri’s back despite the lack of a sheath. She focused more intently on the damaged edge, silently taking into account the disgusting amount of killing power she could feel. “It is imbued with a returning enchantment, an enchantment for increased effectiveness in cutting, and many more that are locked behind a hidden seal I can’t decipher.”

Idri nodded. “That’s also what Grandpa Urfrey found when he first examined it. How did you find that out, Cali?”

Her gaze fell to her long skirt—or rather, behind it.

“My daggers possess similar enchantments, all activated when drawn or thrown. It was very familiar.”

“I see… Is that what you’ve been doing these years? Training? Babysitting Avil? Getting prettier? You look even prettier than when I last saw you. You’re like… a real, grown lady now! Even the way you step and talk is so elegant!”

A soft, rosy mauve of a blush overtook her maintained face for a split second before she composed herself. “Please… I am merely upholding the conduct and demeanor that was taught and expected of me as a member of the Babelei family and Master Avil’s personal servant. With enough time and care, I’m sure you’ll look just as beautiful, Idri.”

“Aww, do you really think so?”

She coughed, and then folded her head. “Yes. But if you are asking, my days have not been that different. I have improved in my daggerplay and knife-throwing. I have made a habit of interweaving practice in my daily life when possible.”

Raoul hummed in confusion. “Okay, how’s that supposed to look?”

“An example is when cutting meat. Master Avil prefers it when his cuts are sized similarly to each other when possible. He has also expressed interest in letting the meat “fly” for a few moments before it is cooked. Hence, I make sure to throw each one into the air and catch it in my knife before I grill it.”

She continued, bringing up her middle finger to accompany the pointer. “He also often invites me to play darts. It was only on the third outing that I realized just how effective of a substitution they are when my darts break from how hard I throw them.”

“Right…”

Idri shot up, unsheathing Kranstor. “Ooh, ooh…! I want to try. Can we, Cali?”

“I am willing…” she replied, but frowned in confusion once she noticed Idri’s closed eyes. “But are you positive you wish to throw sharp objects without seeing them?”

“Oh, these?” she pointed to her own face, and followed it with a shrug. “I can get by fine. I’ve been this way all these years. I use my ears and people’s voices now to move around. Believe it or not, I could even beat Raoul in a fight if I wanted to.”

“Granted, that’s not necessarily a high bar.” He sighed. “Keep an eye on her, Cali.”

A little four-beat chime sounded from her phone the next moment. She read through the message that had popped up and sent a favorable look Raoul's way.

“Master Avil says he is ready to receive you two in his study. Would you like to go now?”

“Go ahead, Raoul,” Idri urged. “You’ve really wanted to talk to Avil, right? We’ll leave you two to catch up. I want to talk more with Cali.”

He tentatively stood, gauging both of their reactions. If their faces could speak, then Raoul could clearly read both of their expressions as gentle nudging. They were right; he did want to reconnect with Avil.

“Alright, fine. Come along when you two are finished.”

“Will do!”

“Take the next flight of stairs and turn right. You willv not miss it—Master Avil’s study alone takes up half of the third floor.”

“Right.”

He exhaled a deep sigh and left the room. Once outside, he traced their steps back to the stairs they took and warily pushed himself to take each step upward. Somehow, the silence of the mansion only amplified the squeak of his shoes as it pressed on the wooden treads. The suspicions he now carried of his close friend were now weighing deep in his mind. Had he changed? If he did, how much? Was he just like him and took on an entirely separate personality? Did it matter if he did?

Each worry tugged relentlessly like metal chains on his legs, making each step all the more heavier. Calm down, he thought. He was going to meet a childhood friend. Avil or not Avil, he was positive there would still remain the essence of the person he knew all those years ago.

The last creak of the stair greeted him. He turned right, setting his sights on another lengthy, window-filled, sunlight-ridden hallway just like the floor below. Only the difference in the one he was now on was the single stygian double door that stood right in the middle of the corridor.

Another deep breath. He stopped just before the doors and gathered his courage. What ever had become of the Avil behind the door, he was positive it would be okay. After all, he brought Idri back. As many times as it took, he would rattle on his friends’ cages until they, too, desired to fly.

He laid a knuckle on the walnut. Knock, knock, knock.

The reply was almost instant.

“Come in.”