Amelia Thornheart-Chapter 136: Cultural Differences

Ishaqian buildings had flat roofs, with only short walls to prevent an unfortunate tumble to the ground. The Bastet family home was no different; it was on their roof that she found Menes keeping watch. He wasn’t alone; a pair of elegant, feminine horns sat beside him.

“Ah, my sayyidah,” Menes said. “Come to join us?” He gestured to the low table and empty seat next to Nefertari. Without waiting for an answer, he began pouring a cup of steaming black liquid. The fragrance soon hit Serena’s nose.

“Jimari?” she asked.

“My wife refused to sleep,” Menes explained, clicking his tongue. “Despite my urging, she was determined to keep watch. The least I could do as a husband is to give her coffee from her homeland.”

“Appreciated, my husband,” Nefertari said with a smile, raising her cup and taking a delicate sip. “I hope I’m not intruding too much on your military operation, Speaker Halen. I’ve been denied the first night back with my husband, so I intend to glue our horns together while I can. You understand, yes?”

Nefertari spoke in an easy-going, almost playful tone of voice. Still, Serena didn’t miss the underlying threat of, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to leave.’ She couldn’t help but wonder if she invoked her privilege as an Imperial Captain and as a Speaker to eject Nefertari from her home, how much of a diplomatic incident it would cause.

“Of course, Nefertari,” Serena responded, taking her seat and coffee.

They sat at the edge of the roof, with clear sight down both ends of the street. With the building backed by one of Ishaq’s semi-circular walls, they were able to see all possible methods of ingress from where they were. Serena looked around, pushing her aura into orange.

“Anything?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Menes replied. “Not even a rat.”

“That’s good.” Serena took a sip, letting the flavoursome coffee fill her senses and sharpen her mind. Sure, she could have any tiredness obliterated by Amelia’s healing magic, but there was something that felt so right about waking up with coffee. She’d heard it joked that all militaries had two traditions: marching and drinking coffee.

Well, perhaps not normally coffee as good as this.

“This is the best Jimari I’ve ever had,” Serena complimented.

“You take it often?” Nefertari asked.

“Not normally on duty,” Serena said, thinking of the outrageous twenty-pound sack Amelia had purchased. Most of it was gone now, but she was seriously contemplating buying more. It worked wonders for the morale during the Passage. “Recently we had some on the ship,” she explained. “But my experience with Jimari is mostly when I wasn’t on duty. It’s often consumed by wealthy families in the East, along with the finer Shiloh and Yameni roasts.”

Nefertari nodded. “It’s cheap in Ishaq. It only takes two days to get it from Jimar to here. Shorter by ship, of course, but crystal has been so expensive that it’s much cheaper to take it through the desert.”

Serena hummed her agreement, mentally bringing up her map of the South. The red sand of the Southern Desert blocked the aetheric pulses that generate lift, so traditional ships weren’t able to traverse it. However, all the major plateau cities around the Salaban mountain range either skirted the edge of the desert, like Hakim to the north and Shiloh to the East, or skirted the edge of the continent, like Ishaq, Trekell to the northwest, and Jimar to the north of that.

With good winds, a trade ship would be able to loop around the mountains to the west, follow the continental shelf north and find Jimar within six hours. For it to be cheaper to take the slower, two-day trip over land, crystal must still be in high demand here. Given what she knew from Aiden and Father regarding the expansion of mining in the South to feed Cascadia’s hungry war industry, she suspected that red would remain high, even in the peacetime they now found themselves in.

“How do they move cargo over the desert?” Serena asked.

Menes grinned. “Down here, my sayyidah, we still do it the old way. Have you ever ridden a sandskimmer?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure, no,” Serena admitted. She’d only ever seen sandskimmers in photographs. They were large, flat, diamond-shaped creatures that, as their name suggested, skimmed the sand of the desert as they flew over it. Their lift organ was specially adapted to the South, allowing it to generate enough lift to stay just high enough to avoid the numerous predators prowling underneath the hot sand.

Unfortunately, demon engineers had yet to replicate the creature's lift organ artificially. It was one of the greatest unsolved engineering challenges in the empire, with a standing bounty of tens of thousands of denari to the demon that cracked it. The moment someone did, traditional ships could swarm the desert and resource extraction would become much simpler.

“Most cargo goes by sandskimmer,” Menes said. “There are also races often, up in Trekall and Hakim. They say a good sandrider can be worth their weight in gold. I know Greatlord Malin sponsors many upcomers.” The Arakian took a sip of his tea. “But these days, more and more travel is done by windrunners. I hope they do not become too popular. It would be a shame to lose the old ways.”

Windrunners. A class of ship that was set upon great skis. They would slide along the sands, propelled only by the desert winds. The cold North also had their own version, called snowrunners. It was common, especially when witnessing the air traffic of major cities like Asamaywa or throughout Centralis, to make the assumption that most cargo was transported by ship, but the reality was that rail was still king, moving more than seventy percent of all material in the Empire. And, where rail couldn’t be laid, such as the torturous Red Sands or the freezing Northern icefields, the locals would innovate and find their own logistical solutions.

“A shame, yes,” Serena affirmed.

“I think the South and the East are similar in more ways than they realise,” Nefertari said, an easy smile on her face. “The East might have more… delicate etiquette, but once you strip that away, we are quite similar. Both value tradition and rituals, and maintain a strict social hierarchy.” 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

“It is the same everywhere, my wife,” Menes said.

“Mmm,” hummed Nefertari, smiling into her cup. She took another sip and asked, “Is Miss Liona not joining us this fine evening? Or should I say, early morning?” The Southern demon raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of, do you have the time, Speaker Halen?”

Serena reached into her pocket, pulling out the pocketwatch, one of a pair, that Amelia had gifted her for Christmas. It was an ornate chunk of gold and platinum, wrapping some of the finest mechanical clockwork in the Empire. On the outside, the engraved letters, S.H caught the moonlight. Serena flicked it open and checked the time.

“One in the morning,” she reported, snapping it shut. “And Miss Liona remains soundly asleep.”

“I’m surprised she can sleep,” Nefertari said. “As a civilian contractor, I would have thought being thrown into whatever trouble you’ve found yourself in would keep her on edge. She seems awfully at ease. Hmm…” The demon took a slow sip and continued, “Perhaps she’s more capable than she seems?”

Is she fishing? Serena thought.

“As a civilian contractor, I urged her to get whatever sleep she could,” Serena said carefully. “Romulus has taken a liking to her, as you know. I believe he’s comforting her right now.”

“I suppose I am merely curious,” Nefertari said. “Before we ate, you indicated that crate of yours was so important that it could not leave your sight. But now, here you are, up here, drinking Jimari while that important crate is only protected by a civilian contractor and Luscan peeka.” Nefertari’s eyes glinted dangerously. “It is curious, isn’t it?”

She’s fishing.

“I judged it secure,” Serena said, letting her natural confidence shine through, “to take a few minutes to come here and have a question answered.”

“Oh?” Nefertari ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “You have a question?”

“For Sayyid Bastet,” Serena said. She turned to Menes and collected her thoughts, preparing the question carefully. Considering that the Arakian lord had referenced it as a children’s tale, she wasn’t concerned about Nefertari overhearing the question as long as Serena didn’t give away any information about Anathor’s memories.

Menes adjusted his position, saying, “How can I help, my sayyidah?”

“When we discussed Pyrinn,” Serena said, gesturing to the Red Moon to the North, “you mentioned something about not forgetting their old names. You referenced a children’s tale about chains breaking and something being born again. I’m unfamiliar with Southern myths, so I wanted to ask you for more details.”

“Ah.” Menes put down his cup. “That.”

“That?” Serena prodded.

“That.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“It is nothing serious, my sayyidah.” Menes waved a dismissive hand. “You should not worry about such things, especially tonight.”

“Your face was serious when you said it.”

“It was…” Menes trailed off, looking to the sky momentarily. “I was feeling strange, thinking of old things. It is because I had been talking to one of her children that I kept thinking of the past.”

“You mean Anathor?”

“Yes, my sayyidah.” Menes followed up with a quick prayer in Hakian. “When I said that, I was thinking of the old stories of the desert. The stories of Urda.” He sniffed and poured himself another drink. “Fine then. I will tell you. All great beings come from Mura, the Greatspider. Not all of them are powerful and kindhearted, like Elana or Falin. Not all of them are powerful and noble, like Rhaknam. Some… some are…” Menes trailed off, his expression darkening. “Some are powerful and wicked. Like Amlaq the Greatwurm.”

“The Titanlord?” Serena questioned. As she asked the question, the memory she’d been forced to experience when the ship rejected the black crystal came to mind. “The one that destroyed Suria?” she asked.

“Yes,” Menes said, “but Amlaq was killed, vanquished. His bones shattered and spread across the sands. But in Urda…” Menes raised a finger to his mouth in a slow, ominous fashion. “We learn of even greater evils, spawn of Mura that never knew the joy of love and family. Spawn that rejected the good moonlight. I talk, of course, of the avatars of Anathema, the Malignant Darkness. The physical bodies of those you refer to as chaos gods.”

Serena frowned. “Does your religion teach that all gods are children of Mura? Even Anathema?” As she said the true name of the Enemy, she felt uneasy. The South seemed not to possess the same cultural aversion and superstition around the name, which was strange, considering how superstitious they were in general.

“Down here, where we still believe in the true teaching of Urda, we do,” Menes answered. He leaned back in his chair and clicked his tongue. “Bah! Up North, those heretics have been misled by the Demon Church. Do you know that in the cities near Centralis, they believe that Mura and Elana are one and the same? Nonsense! Exactly the kind of silly thinking that causes them to dig holes in the desert. Dectus Lines? Pah!”

Before Menes could go on a religious-fueled tirade about the cultural superiority of his Ashendi ancestry, Serena interjected, asking, “So what’s the connection between Urda and the chains you spoke of?”

“I’m getting to it, my sayyidah.” Menes cleared his throat and continued, “Elana killed Amlaq, one of Mura’s dark children. But Anathema, you see, she was never shown the love of her mother, and was corrupted in the deepest ways. We have a saying in the desert: the child that is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel the warmth. That is what happened with Anathema.” Menes’ jaw tensed momentarily. Taking a breath, he said, “Anathema was too stubborn, too angry to die like Amlaq. She persists, even today. Not just her, but her brothers and sisters, whose names are lost to even us.”

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Any hesitation the Arakian lord may have had previously about talking about his religious myths seemed to have melted away. Honestly, looking at him now reminded Serena of how Tomes got sometimes when he recounted the Empire’s history to Amelia. Like a grandfather eagerly sharing a story with his bright-eyed and attentive grandchildren.

“I told you our great Ashendi ancestors built the pyramids, yes?” After Serena nodded, Menes continued, “Those pyramids are built for the insect gods to rest. A place for them to sleep when their duties are no longer needed. But, there are other pyramids…” Menes’ voice lowered as he leaned in. He raised a fist. “We have built others. Pyramids that trap”—he dramatically wrapped his other hand around his fist—“them, preventing them from rampaging. Pyramids that constrain them, keeping them from waking, keeping Anathema from being reborn.”

“And where are these prison pyramids?” Serena asked.

“They are hidden,” Menes answered. “Impossible to find, obscured by not just the desert sand but also a great spell, woven by Mura herself. A spell that is fuelled by the good moonlight. A spell that draws upon Pyrinn and her faithful. In Urda, by praying to the moons, we give them light and keep the spell strong. This is why we must never forget their old names, yes? If the spell weakens, the chains holding them down will break, and Anathema will escape her prison.”

I don’t believe it, Serena thought. But Urda is right about powerful beings not dying like normal creatures. Amelia and the Vengeance each possess a shard of something great. Could Anathema be in a similar state? Could… Serena’s mouth opened when her mind put together a terrifying possibility. Could black crystals be shards of Anathema?

“Haha…” Menes chuckled softly. “I see I have scared you, my sayyidah.” Even after Serena had collected herself and closed her mouth, he continued, “It is what we tell the children. We also tell them that bad manners and telling lies sends darklight to the Moons, weakening the moonlight that keeps the spell strong. As I said, even I don’t fully believe it. But it is a good story, no? So when you are back in the East, remember to send a prayer not just to the Blue Moon, but to its true name, Bluheim.”

Serena took a slow, deliberate sip of her Jimari coffee. The hot liquid cleared her mind and warmed her body. “You’ve answered my question, Menes. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, my sayyidah.” Menes chuckled again. “You are very welcome.”

The conversation moved on to lighter things. It turned out that prison pyramids were only one of numerous legends littering the desert. There were countless tales of all kinds of natural and unnatural phenomena sighted deep in the Red Sands.

A golden oasis hidden at the centre of a ferocious sandstorm, with waters that could heal any injury. Serena refrained from mentioning that she already had her own golden oasis asleep in the room below.

A floating tower, crowned with a shining ruby bigger than a building. It lured in adventurers seeking its riches, only for them to never return.

A great golem, in the shape of a sphinx. Said to protect the sleeping Mura herself.

And, of course, the apparent sighting of a greatwurm said to rival Amlaq. Perhaps it was one of the Titanlord’s children, biding its time to finish what its father could not.

Serena memorised each one. Not because she believed them, but because she knew Amelia would love to hear about them. Even now, she could imagine her girlfriend’s wide, enthusiastic eyes as she was told of golden oases and hidden towers. Amelia believed that there was a hidden truth behind every legend and myth, and was determined to uncover them where and when she could.

Before Serena knew it, it was two in the morning and time for her to take over the watch.

“I shall get some sleep, my sayyidah,” Menes said with a yawn. “I will only be below.”

“See you soon, Menes,” Serena said.

“Would you mind if I keep you company a little longer?” Nefertari asked, her voice a perfect balance of politeness and assured expectation. “I’ve had too much coffee, and fear I would simply be restless. Go ahead, my husband.”

Menes grumbled something and disappeared into the building, leaving Serena alone with Nefertari. Suddenly, without the Arakian lord’s brash and loud personality, it felt quiet and a little awkward.

“Here,” Nefertari said suddenly, raising her cup.

Serena hesitated for only a moment before raising her own cup. Nefertari then pushed her cup forward, colliding it with her own, sounding a high-pitched clink.

“It’s what they do in Centralis,” Nefertari said. “Just raising the cup to toast isn’t enough, apparently. They need to clink them together. It’s become especially popular recently. I was invited to a dinner there recently. After enough drinks, everyone was shattering their cups because they were too drunk to control the force.”

“Strange custom,” Serena said. “Where does it come from?”

“I’m not sure,” Nefertari mused, “but I guess that it originated from the highborn clinking their crystal glasses, so everyone around them would hear it ring out and know it was true crystal. Isn’t it funny how traditions have such strange origins, yet we keep doing them, until they feel so normal that not doing them feels like a loss of culture?” Nefertari smiled, and, not waiting for Serena’s answer, continued, “We’re lucky to be in Ishaq, insulated from much of Centralis’ influence. Here, we can still be ourselves, and support the Empress in our own way.”

“You don’t like Centralis?” Serena asked.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, rather that it’s just so much.” Nefertari sighed and shook her head. “Every time I go up there, there’s more ships, more trains, more people. You can travel a hundred kilometres there and still see no sign of the wilderness. It’s just smoke and steel. So much… civilisation,” Nefertari spoke into her cup, taking another sip. “It’s why I try to make the most of my time down here, when I can spend it quietly with my husband.”

“I apologise for taking that from you,” Serena said. “It was unfair to put this on you and your children.”

“Ah, I wasn’t seeking an apology, Speaker Halen.” Nefertari waved a dismissive hand. “I’m just complaining, as a woman, to a woman. Really, I’m frustrated at my husband. I love him terribly, and worry so much whenever he goes into the Passage. It might be getting safer each year, but it only takes one bad judgment, one bad storm. I mean, what was he thinking, boarding an Imperial vessel caught in a tri-cone? Tsk!” Nefertari tutted in a manner Serena thought reminiscent of herself.

“If I may ask,” Serena began, “how much did your husband tell you regarding what happened?” She’d agreed with Acting-Captain Voss not to mention the fight with the arcwhale. Back then, it was merely a means for both of them to save face, but given the situation with the arcwhale stranding, Serena was worried that what happened in the Passage would come into public knowledge and she’d be blamed for it.

“How much do I know?” Nefertari muttered. The demon tilted her head and placed a finger on her chin. “Hmm… Less than what I wanted, and more than what you would prefer.” The corner of Nefertari’s mouth curled and she said, “You want to pry, don’t you, Speaker Halen?”

“It’s only natural, and nothing personal. You are a civilian, and these are military matters.”

“Military matters that find their way into my home become my matters, Speaker Halen.”

“...I can’t exactly disagree with that,” Serena said quietly. She poured herself more coffee and took a sip.

Nefertari sighed. “I won’t push any further myself. At least, not until you’ve left. I have faith in my husband, Speaker Halen, even when I know he’s hiding things from me.” She raised the cup, inhaling the coffee’s fragrance and smiling softly. “Well, us women can have our revenge, can’t we? Perhaps I’ll spend some nights in Madam Sakina’s. Let my husband feel as frustrated as I did. Yes… that’s an idea…”

As Nefertari used her finger to circle the rim of her cup with a sly smile on her face, Serena had to do her best not to choke on her own coffee. What did she just say? Madam Sakina’s? Wasn’t that…? When they were outside the front door, hadn’t she overheard Nefertari telling Menes she’d procured the services of that place?

I have to ask, Serena thought.

“When the Vengeance made it to Ishaq’s airspace,” Serena tentatively began, “a ship pulled aside us. They were advertising Madam Sakina’s to the crew. There was a woman onboard. A woman that…” Serena sighed. What was she even talking about? “A woman who undressed herself to entice the men. Said she was from Madam Sakina’s.”

“Ah, Ihra mentioned she met you,” Nefertari said. “Said that you responded to her flirtations rather… forcefully.” The demon smiled in a manner that said she knew exactly how forcefully Serena had responded, namely ordering the Vengeance to bear one of its main batteries against the shameless woman.

Not that she would have fired, of course.

Well, probably not.

It would have depended on whether she’d kept talking to Amelia.

“You know that woman?” Serena asked. She cleared her throat. “I was only curious. Isn’t Madam Sakina’s an establishment… of the night?”

Nefertari laughed. A soft laugh that filled the air like ribbons of silk, dancing in the red moonlight and tickling her ears. “It is a place of prostitutes, yes, Speaker Halen. Did you have a question?”

“Well, you just indicated you would spend some nights there in a manner, I assume, where you would be receiving certain services, I was just trying to understand, how, uh…” Moons, why am I rambling so much? Steeling her mind, Serena forced the question. “Surely Menes isn’t comfortable with you making love to other men?”

“Haha!” Nefertari laughed, louder and more jubilant. Once she recovered, she said, “Of course I’m not making love with other men. I am loyal to my husband, Speaker Halen. I would never disrespect him by allowing another man to take me to bed. Should such a thing happen…” Nerfertari’s smile grew, “Menes is strong. He would kill any man that did so.”

“But…”

“I’m sure you, as a grown woman who has no doubt received a fine education, you would know that a woman doesn’t need a man to relieve some frustrations, yet?” Nefertari tilted her head as she asked the question. “I procure the services of women and only women, Speaker Halen. Is that strange to you?”

What the— Serena’s mind shut down for a moment as she took in the implication. It wasn’t the revelation that Nefertari engaged with other women for sexual relief. It was more…

“Your husband is okay with that? For you to find relief… from a woman?” Serena asked. “Is he not angry at that?”

“Hmm? Why would he be?” Nefertari frowned. “It is not like I am having sex, Speaker Halen. I’m not going to get pregnant from anyone but my husband. What’s the issue?”

“I, uh…” Serena’s brain shut down.

It took her a few minutes and a few embarrassing questions to realise what was going on.

It wasn’t that the South was such a tolerant place of homosexuality that two women could pleasure each other as a normal thing. The superficial tolerance that prompted Nefertari to speak so casually of it was rooted in something that was somehow worse than intolerance. Serena discovered that Southern culture was extremely intolerant of homosexuality, but that intolerance was focused only towards men.

When it came to two women, the South was so dismissive of women and their agency that they didn’t even consider two women being sexually involved as sex. Two women, even if they used their fingers and tongues in the most embarrassing, cheek-reddening way, were nothing more than casual fun between close friends, rather than an act of disrespect and disloyalty.

In fact, Serena also discovered that for an Ishaqian husband, having their wife find pleasure in their absence from another woman was considered to be much better than that wife pleasuring herself. The latter activity was taken as a sign that the husband was inadequate beneath the sheets.

By the time Serena had learned that nugget of information, her cheeks were glowing as red as the Red Moon, something Nefertari found quite entertaining. No matter how Serena tried to reason with her, the demon could not see it from her point of view, claiming it was, in fact, Eastern society that was unreasonably restrictive.

No wonder men go missing on leave around here, Serena thought.

“Don’t you feel an… attraction to the women that… entertain you?” Serena asked, squeezing out the difficult sentence like she squeezed out the blue aura during the fight with Korvus.

Nefertari shrugged. “Of course I do, but it’s not the same, is it?”

“I… don’t know.”

“So you and Miss Liona aren’t…?” Nefertari trailed off.

Serena blinked. “Is that what you thought?”

“I mentioned you were casual with each other. And besides…” Nefertari took a sip of her coffee. “I thought it was suspicious that a random civilian contractor was with you under what seems like such an important mission. Was I mistaken? You two aren’t companions of that nature?”

“I…” Serena swallowed, realising that, even with Amelia disguised as Lia Liona, she couldn’t bring herself to deny it. Nefertari might not see sleeping with another woman as disrespectful to her husband, but Serena felt it was disrespectful to Amelia to deny it. “...Yes,” she said after some hesitation. “Yes, we are.”

That’s the first time I’ve admitted that to a stranger, Serena thought. Is that progress, or not?

“I thought so…” Nefertari smiled. “It explains a lot.”

“It does?”

“Yes.”

“Such as?”

“This conversation has been difficult for you, Speaker Halen. I can see that.” Nefertari raised a hand to her mouth, yawning. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you further. I hope you can understand now why Southerners see your kind as being, how to put it… tightly wound? Perhaps once you and Miss Liona have finished whatever business you have, you might consider retiring in Ishaq? The East might not be so welcoming to such activities, but down here, no one would twist a horn over it.”

“You’ve… given me much to think about,” Serena said. For some reason, she was finding it difficult to look Nefertari in the eye. The demon had spoken so candidly of her activities that Serena’s mind couldn’t help but imagine certain scenes involving her. That was uncomfortable. Not because she felt any attraction to Nefertari, but because it just felt weird to think about anyone naked that wasn’t Amelia.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, Speaker Halen.” Nefertari placed her cup down and stood up. “Should I wake Miss Liona for you?”

“...Let her sleep.”

“Would you like more coffee?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then I bid you goodnight, Speaker Halen.”

“Serena.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can call me Serena.”

“Oh?” Nefertari laughed softly. “First name basis with a Speaker. Be warned, I’ll be casually dropping your first name in many a conversation in Centralis. Now we’re friends, Speaker Halen, or should I say, Serena. I’m a politician, so I won’t undervalue such a thing.”

Serena found herself smiling. “I understand.”

“Then I bid you good night, Serena Halen.” With that, Nefertari glided away and down into the building, leaving Serena to her own thoughts.

She’d rarely had such a conversation that was simultaneously enlightening and frustrating. At times, Serena thought she’d found someone other than Amelia who understood her disposition, but now she understood Nefertari wasn’t the same as her. To the Jimari wife, her activities with other women were just that: activities. There wasn’t any romantic connection in the act.

That’s so different from me, Serena thought. Even now, when I think of Amelia… She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the almost teenage butterflies within, coupled with the sensation of her heart yearning for her girlfriend's touch, smell, and smile. Her heart raced, and it only calmed when she focused on the aetheric connection between them, forever present through the wards Amelia kept running on her at all times. As the weeks and months had gone on, Serena felt she could feel more of Amelia through it; her emotions, her feelings.

Maybe one day, I would hear her thoughts? Serena thought.

Her ruminations on love were rudely interrupted by the appearance of a group of aether signatures down the street. Serena raised her eyes, recognising the demons rounding the corner.

Finella and the rest of the squad had returned.

With Aiden.