Cultivating Plants

There were times when a person needed to fight their very core tenets, as much as it hurt. And this was one of those times.

Sadina had become a lovely city – or rather, lovelier – with time. As the closest settlement to the Heart of the Evergreen, it was a city of unprecedented riches and certainly the closest to nature. The Ydazi people hadn't been in touch with nature until recently, only considering the World Tree and the farmlands that it brought a geographical boon not unlike that of a mine, yet as more evolutions appeared here and there – or monster flora as they called it – the citizens of Sadina slowly yet paradoxically fast incorporated more elements of nature in their city.

There were many Flourishing Springs planted in the city, and it boasted more Cottonpull per capita than any other settlement in Khaffat, but those had been commonplace before he made it there.

Xochipilli could only look at Sadina as a reflection of himself. A decade wasn't that much time, but they had both changed significantly in that small amount of time. Perhaps a lot for a person, but not that much for a city.

Architects worldwide gathered in Sadina as 'organism' took over as the new trend. This style of construction and decoration was about making buildings organic – hence the name – though the direction was always more about flora than fauna.

The canopies became shaped like draped petals looming over the streets; the sky-bridges increased in quantity and connected the many sky-scratching buildings like branches, making almost a second city in the skies; the advancements provided by the Radiating Undergrowth brought automobiles and more efficient lighting, but that was only the start with those.

It had been common knowledge that Myriad glass lost its refractive properties if melted, but researchers had discovered that when a Myriad plant was exposed to a Radiating Undergrowth without proper protection, it would lose its refractive index and turn into normal glass. In a normal scenario, this would have been devastating for the lighting industry, but with some workarounds, it was possible to fuel the endless tubes of Myriad glass to light the city without destroying the monster glass' properties. What happened in reality was that out of nowhere a new Myriad industry popped up with people wanting the curious and organic shapes of the Myriads as decorations. Yet another part of the 'organism' movement.

Glass, so much glass… The Tecolatan druid told himself as he walked around the city in his revealing attire, though no one bothered to lay eyes on him.

Apparently, glass had been a staple in Ydazi architecture for centuries, but now everything was glass. The massive panels of the building, the railing of balconies of Myriads, the decorations… Xochipilli couldn't help but be irked by that much glass. He felt like those birds that died from time to time, unable to recognize that there wasn't nothing in front of them and consequently became pita bread.

An oppressive pessimism was choking him, yes, but that glass infuriated him to no end. He felt as if it was laughing at him, somehow. The reason why was completely beyond him.

After a while, he finally found the promised rendezvous point: a café. There was no need to hide whilst in the middle of the city, there was too much interference from everything. The person he was meeting sat alone at a table, so he sat on the opposite side, but as she failed to notice him, he tapped on the table.

"Ah!" Josephine jolted and yelped. "When have you arrived?"

"A while ago." It had been only a handful of seconds.

"The stealth stance is way more powerful than I thought…" she whispered.

"No, not really. I just have that much vitality, and unlike most cultivators out there, I have had the necessity and the resources to train it."

There were many reasons why his hiding capabilities had been trained, mostly because it was a necessity when he was still living in the jungle. But beyond that, he did hunt the meat he ate and did so with the enthusiasm of a hunter and the teeth of a predator as he lived in the Evergreen. Of course, those were the public things. He couldn't admit that he was trying to avoid the dryads from time to time, or that he had been measuring Aloe's passive acuity for years, which required literal and figurative subterfuge.

"You would make a better assassin than a cultivator," Josephine added with a chuckle as she raised her hand, motioning a waitress to attend them.

Xochipilli smiled affectionately at that comment.

Wordlessly, the former assassin gestured a part of the menu to the waitress whilst the druid asked for a ter'nar tea.

"Can't you drink that every day?" She asked once the waitress went away.

"Yes, but not from an establishment. There are two possibilities right now, it either tastes worse than I'm used to, or better. It would be moronic to not try to find the best ter'nar tea out there when I enjoy it this much."

"Wise words," Josephine nodded.

They kept their trivial conversation until their assortments arrived, and from there, the real conversation started.

"From the looks of yours," the former maid said with a cup in hand, "I guess you have failed."

"Utterly and pathetically," Xochipilli sighed. "And it's not even what we talked about. I did try a handful of other things that I considered could work, I opened myself to her and she basically laughed on my face. Dismissed me as if I was a child when I had my heart in hand."

"Ouch. I can't even fathom how much that hurt."

"A lot, a lot…" The druid responded weakly, devoid of life.

"So…" Josephine dragged a cookie inside her tea, the kind of action that some would consider a crime against humanity itself. "What is your decision?"

"I am not sure," he wasn't. "A lot has happened, and I failed more spectacularly than I thought possible. She closed herself off even more. I don't know to what extent, but from what I've seen that has happened with my second plan… I'd say Aloe has become completely detached from pleasure. I would go as far as to say maybe her humanity entirely."

"But that's good!" The mature woman's dull brown eyes shone in youthful joviality. "She had been tethered to her human side, now we can finally steer her to her divine one."

"But… should we? I'm not fully convinced on this."

"Xochipilli, you have said this yourself. She has dismissed you, everything you have tried has been used against you. So… how about considering my offer?"

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The Prince of Flowers couldn't deny that he had considered it before, way before Josephine had even made the offer, but it was also a betrayal of sorts. You have been betrayed first, a part of him whispered. But should betrayal beget more betrayal? That was the question that occupied his mind, and the answer was: Is it a betrayal if it's done in good faith?

It was an utter fallacy. One couldn't answer a question with another question, especially one as devoid of meaning as that one, yet Xochipilli felt oddly compelled by his own miserable words.

"It's the only way to reach her level," he voiced out. It was no secret that her mastery over the vital arts was absolute, and if even Aloe had dipped the tip of her toes inside, that meant Xochipilli had a lot to win if he went neck dip. "Teach me Enlightenment."

Josephine smiled at his decision and calmly answered: "You will find that after shaping yourself, it will be easier to shape Mother Nature into the goddess that she must be."

A pang of regret stubbed his heart as the zealous woman spoke. The Prince of Flower felt as if he had made a deal with a djinn.

It was a sorrowful day in Sadina, yet not many people knew it. That was the problem with secrecy, it impeded you from sharing information no matter how loud you wanted to shout it out to the heavens.

Though there was maybe only one person in the whole world that wanted to shout about it. Yet she didn't.

Naila-al-Ydaz, ruler of the civilized world, sat calmly in the garden of the palace of Asina. It was a pale imitation of the gardens of the capital, but that didn't make it less beautiful. Flowers aplenty, some of them monster flora.

The day was sunny unlike any other, yet the Calipha sat alone with an undecipherable expression.

"I know you are here, come out of the shadows," she stated not before long.

"What gave me out?" A coarse voice questioned.

"I am not going to answer that," the Calipha turned her head around to face the old man. Of course, as many wrinkles and white hair as he had, his age paled in comparison to that of the cultivator. "What brings you here, Gerges? Or should I say Grandmaster Zayn?"

"Lovely as always." Whilst his words rang true – for Naila-al-Ydaz was indeed a peerless beauty – the Calipha still gave him a stern gaze. "Any of them works," the assassin said with a dry chuckle and his hands raised in Ydazi manner. "Does it make it better or worse that the day is lovely as it is?"

"It matters little," her voice was devoid of the grace it normally carried, even if he hadn't interacted that much with her.

"Do you know that she was murdered?"

"You and your assassins…" Naila-al-Ydaz sighed. "Why do your words always carry as much poison as your blades?"

"Call it a knack," the old-looking yet younger man responded. "When you juggle with death and drugs as much as we do, it makes us be on edge. But you do wrong in dismissing my words."

"She was not murdered," the Calipha responds as a matter of fact, but her words held no passion.

"How you can be so sure of it?"

"I could ask the same thing about you, Gerges," the cultivator didn't bother looking at the assassin, instead her eyes were glued to the stone coffin before her. Not many people knew who was inside.

"I'll admit that my proof is… circumstantial at best, but don't you want to hear it at least?"

"You do not have to bring me your poisoned gift, I already have the answers."

"Oh, are you saying that your spy network is better than mine?"

"It is," she stated with the bland factualness that only the ruler of the world could have. "But it is not because of them that I know it. And if I were you, I would mindfully ponder the words that come out of that mouth. I can kill you at any moment."

"Quite," he smiled. "But I am the best of poisons. If you kill me, you know there will be a new Grandmaster to substitute me, and they will be worse than me. I do not mean that as a threat, that they will be your enemy, I just mean that they will not be a competent leader. And we know that incompetence is the biggest sin a leader can boast."

Naila-al-Ydaz didn't verbally respond, but she did puff air out of her nose with a modicum of amusement.

"But you are now the one that has piqued my interest," the Grandmaster continued. "How have you obtained the answers?"

"From the victim itself, of course," the old man raised his brows, much to the mature woman's satisfaction. "This was not a sudden death, but a slow, grueling one."

"So you are saying this was a natural death?" Gerges professed his doubt.

"Not quite." Beyond her satisfaction by toying with the assassin, there was no emotion in the Calipha's words. It wasn't the apathy induced by a recent passing, just plain indifference.

"You will not tell me then what that 'not quite' is?" He asked after a silence lingered for far too long.

"Secrets of state," she replied nonchalantly. "But if you still want a satisfying answer, I can tell you what you want to hear. Aloe Ayad did accelerate Rani's death."

Naila-al-Ydaz hadn't seen her half-sister for many years – perhaps even decades – prior to her death, and yet she didn't seem to be bothered at all as she spoke those words whilst looking at the coffin.

"How can you stay placidly after admitting that woman had a finger in your family's death?" The assassin said sternly.

"Oh, Gerges, are you genuinely speaking with me about the wrongness of familicide?" The Calipha giggled. "You certainly could not have chosen a worse person in the world."

"Yet you are a family woman, a matriarch. Broodmother, you have been called."

"There is quite the distinction between children and children from siblings."

"Yet none have lived as long as Rani, nor you have been as close."

The Calipha's visage soured at those words. "Even if I did care about Rani as much as you are implying, Aloe had a good claim on her life."

"So that gives her the right to kill someone? That is not the code of laws you personally drafted, Calipha."

"I am getting tired of your blabbering, Grandmaster," her tone turned hostile. "Contributing to someone's decline of health is not murder."

"That is what you tell yourself."

Those were the words that broke the camel's back. Naila-al-Ydaz, with her unrivaled beauty and cold rage, turned to face the weary grandmaster. He was wrinkled like no other, the seven decades of his age clearly visible.

"Tell me what you have come here to say, or die," it wasn't a threat but a fact, and the assassin knew it.

As progressive as Ydaz could be – and had been far before her reign – it still held onto some rather outdated laws by virtue of its rulers being a supreme authority. Some Loyatan city-states had practiced republican systems for centuries, after all. Naila-al-Ydaz could execute him right here and then, and no one would bat an eye; much like how no one had done anything when Aaliyah-al-Ydaz had decided to bring a petite woman to her office.

"You know about my niece," he started.

"A spy most obvious," the Calipha affirmed.

"But your competent vassal, is she not?" The cultivator nodded to the assassin's words. "Then you have heard what has happened with her, have you not?"

"I have heard she is a bit under the weather," she replied calmly.

"A bit under the weather?" Zayn Gerges exploded with indignation. "She has broken my niece! The only thing my Nesrine can think about is that woman! It is the only thing on her mind! She is a person no more!"

The Grandmaster's eyes were bloodshot, but it was obvious that it wasn't thanks to an overuse of drugs. Assassins of his caliber had better control of their body than most cultivators.

Naila-al-Ydaz sighed, indifference and… weakness crushing his body. "And?"

"And?" Saliva splattered everywhere as he shouted. "Where is the mighty Calipha that everyone fears? Do you not intend to do something about Aloe Ayad? She is a problem!"

"I am aware," she stated plainly.

"And you still don't intend to fix it?"

"That woman just wants to be left alone, and I have personally witnessed what happens when she is wronged. The best way to solve this problem is to ignore it, Gerges."

The old man sighed. "I thought this might happen. Cultivators never listened to assassins, history has told us so many times, no matter if the latter was in the right."

"You know that this is not a matter of pride."

"Yet you still fail to listen," the Grandmaster took a piece of paper out of his coat and threw it to the Calipha.

The amber-eyed woman took the paper with grace and read it. The information was short but direct. A shiver went down the spine of the ruler of the world.

"Are you sure about this?" She asked with an incertitude completely uncharacteristic of a bicentennial woman.

"Yes," the assassin grimly nodded. "There is a religion taking shape in the Heart of the Evergreen, and its goddess seems to have completely lost touch with the world."

"I see…" Naila-al-Ydaz took a deep breath.

Her eyes felt watery, but never had they been drier. Deadly expectation gathered on her fingertips and heart. The Calipha had never held Sulnaya close to her heart, she would go as far as to say that she hated that religion and what it made out of her, but she also knew how dangerous one could be. Especially one with a living patron. It isn't personal, she told herself.

"Aloe Ayad must be disposed of," the ruler of the world said with all its weight.