Private Aeon

"...And so that is where we come to Bakari's Lament. It is the final piece of writing produced by Bakari the Blessed, written in both poetic and mathematical perfection in which he shares his belief that we Miradi people were fools to share our knowledge with the world."

It was a rare occasion that a guest did not find themselves comfortable at the Spire of Winds. One of the higher levels of the tower was a place for lounging and studying materials. The terrace was filled with scholars exchanging notes, sharing drinks, and sipping wine beneath the eyes of the sun and nearly touching the clouds themselves. The outside the tower made up a vast view in every direction, the palaces circled the spire in all of their otherworldly splendor. The sun touched the gold domes and made them gleam. Some buildings looked to be made of glass and butterfly wings and when the sun hit them, they created a wide array of colors across the cityscape. Despite the serenity, there is a quiet hum. The advanced engines of the city that keep it moving as the Mansa desires.

"We hold in belief because of this perfect scripture, and every mind worth it's salt in the world will have a hard time disproving, that the creation of what we have all come to call MagiTec is worship. In it's perfect form, it is meant to be what we show to the gods when the skies peel back like parchment and we face the judgement of the gods. That we might show them our works and they find us worthy to join paradise... Brother, the rest of the world do not understand this as we do. And that is why we must protect it. It is just."

Baku paused for a moment as one of the servants brought them more refreshments and cleared out their empty cups. Two more stood behind them and fanned them with Sunqooqoo feathers of great size and splendorous color.

"The vintage is quite exqusite, don't you agree?"

Cardinale considered himself a man learned and weathered, privy to much this world had to offer. Yet here he sat within the embrace of the Spire of Winds, finding himself humbled. His duties were manifold as the Crown's envoy which provided him both opportunity and pressure. A trip to the sacred desert couldn't be construed as a matter of personal pleasure no matter his intentions.

It was his great fortune to make the acquaintance of the Brass Sage, a title that far outstripped his own within their respective realms. Cardinale gave deference to a man more storied than his own. Petty pride could be saved for the court of Crown's Hold, but it held little sway among a city aloft.

Oddly enough he'd not found the other man's tales to be tiresome. Instead they were welcome compared to the banality of his usual conversions.

"Truly," replied the Viscount. "I've rather been in search of competent vintners. Bloodroost lacks the climate for such cultivation much to my chagrin."

He set the fine chalice back on the ornate table. "I would see this understanding...broadened, if only among my territory to begin. You alluded to your latest research, I am not without curiosity."

"A wise man once told me we should be careful about our curiousities," the Sage grins over the top of his glass as jewled fingers circle the rim. "For many are the paths to Takoumba's great maw. And he spins his webs with our ambitions and our shortsightedness... Those webs stretch far."

To be a scholar of the Suma is to be comfortable with silence no matter how deep. For silence is the key to knowing and knowing is the key to potential. One begets the other as desert winds beget strength. Baku's eyes study Cardinale for a time as though he wants the man sitting across from him to know that he's being appraised for his value. Long have men come from the West to know of the musings of "Machine Princes". Long have those Princes turned them away.

Times were changing though, were they not?

The Mansa teaches that rot spreads and makes the desert sick. More and more every year, the unwashed masses claw at the city in the sky in hopes that they will send their Mother-given blessings down and lift them into salvation. And the time rapidly approaches where the city must answer. A gentle wind sweeps through the tall tower as the colors from the city's glass spires seem to dance with it. Both worship and vanity in their construction. Perfect as all devotion to the spirits of the desert must be.

"Tell me, my Lord. How much do you know of the desert, hm? The world is old. Older even than the Empire of the Horned Ones long dead or the deader dragons before them. Takoumba and the Mother have gone by many names before my people even learned speech... Three eyed men once ruled in this very place we look down upon from the city's limits. And some say machine once governed themselves before ambition unknowable made them into memory. So they say..."

"Yet is it also not said that those who stand still shall surely be ensnared," replied Cardinale reciting the an old Miradi idiom. Despite the retort, the noble knew better than to dismiss the sage's wisdom. The Viscount was not the first, Altalusian or otherwise, to find himself in the City of Spires for his aspirations. Trapped in a spider's web or cast aside to be swallowed whole by the Kaikias; a fate all too easily to stumble upon. Cardinale was aware of the hubris inherent with his efforts to seek an alternative outcome. But what could he do, his ambitions were such.

He sipped the fine vintage once more as he carefully considered Baku's words."I expect my knowledge is rather lacking in comparison, Sulaato," invoking the ancient title for sages years past."But I am not a man prone to flights of whimsy." Any endeavor Cardinale took upon himself was done with caution and intent. To find himself completely naive among the world's great wonders would be an insult to both the Miradi and himself.

"Your words ring of caution yet hint at discovery..."

"Caution. Discovery. Hahahaha!" Baku laughed heartily and raised his drink to his guest.
"And in that, you understand the desert in more ways than I can ever hope to tell you, my friend from another land."

The bottom of the cup tapped the table gently before he downed it and left it on the platform between them. Yes, there was much he had discovered in the desert. Much time he'd put into understanding the home that was home to many before it was his own. And how could he hope to explain it to this foreigner in a way that he would understand enough and then again not too much at all. The musing was clear in his eyes. A conundrum that amused him clearly. The glint in his eyes was present as he met Cardinale's gaze and even as he turned it away towards the horizon.

"You shall come with me," he said warmly, his tone denoting that there would be no room for debate.
"I have decided that I like you enough that I shall show you what is in my laboratory. However, if news of this ever reaches anyone else I'm afraid I may well have to throw you of the edge of the city."

He laughed. A jest. For the most part, but there was a side to every Miradi that was protective of his people and the secrets they held. Baku waved it off and rose, expecting that his guest might do the same.