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The sounds of commotion aboard the Dijiang carry even to the furthest corners of the spaceship, even to the room Ardashir was held in. Curiously, he listened, bits and pieces sometimes carrying in through the locked door from the guards stationed outside, yet not quite enough to paint the full picture of what had seemingly transpired.
Did Endfield encounter another crisis?
Did someone get injured?
Did someone perhaps betray them?
Was the Endministrator well?
He knew, with time, the man that occupied his thoughts the most would eventually drop by. He would ask, then, if the raven-haired man did not open up by himself. After all, whatever concerned Endfield also concerned the Endministrator, which, indirectly, concerned him.
Little did he know that he had become the reason for the commotion simply by existing.
At 10:00 sharp, the Endministrator had called a leadership meeting, the largest gathering Endfield would see happen, joined by various members of the Civilization Band, along with leaders and spokespersons from other factions that had aligned themselves with Endfield or established an alliance.
The main platform on the Bridge has been turned into something akin to an open meeting room, chairs holding important figures of Endfield and Wuling, since the Dijiang was still stationed above Wuling, after all.
One chair held Zhuang Fangyi.
Another held Si.
Fiona and Perlica stood off to the side with their respective tablets.
The Endministrator sat in his command chair in the midst of it all, focused, serious, in his element and unwavering.
The lines connected, leaders exchanging greetings.
He speaks up, instead of letting Perlica lead. After all, she did not know either why the meeting had been called. Nerves ran high, worries and concern building up. There was no need to drag this on longer than it needed to be.
“First and foremost, I’d like to thank everyone for your attendance and time. I will keep this brief, since I do not intend to waste such time given to Endfield. As everyone knows, the Dijiang currently holds Ardashir confined with the help of Lady Si’s Feranmut powers. Through personal investigation, I have come to the conclusion that Ardashir holds valuable key information.” He lets his words sit for a moment, an update on their current situation woven into his proposal.
It is clear that the room thinks he’s simply giving a security update. Especially since the Civilisation Band had been involved from the beginning, as soon as the decision had been made to relocate Ardashir to the Dijiang.
“With the circumstances in mind, I believe our current handling of Ardashir is no longer appropriate.”
Naturally, the expectations would lie in stricter confinement, maybe a relocation to a different spot that is not essentially the headquarters of Endfield Industries. But not…
“I propose changing his status from isolated prisoner to supervised Endfield consultant.”
The protests are immediate.
Concerns, questions and disagreement are thrown into the room all at once, one louder than the previous one.
Yet, he patiently listens.
As it quiets down once more, he begins his reasoning. Calm, collected and factual, as was his way whenever it came to things concerning Endfield Industries.
“Do rest assured that this has been thought through thoroughly. I would not suggest such a proposition without benefits to be gained from it, not just for Endfield, but for Talos-II as a whole. We have had Ardashir confined for weeks, yet no attempt to flee has been made. Nor has he attempted to deceive us. Every bit of information given by him has been double-checked thrice over by me and has been confirmed truthful.”
For a moment, he is reminded why exactly he hates these official meetings, the politics and all the paperwork that would come after it.
“Most importantly, his knowledge regarding the Aether exceeds ours by a landslide. He has been able to manipulate it and wield it, similar to how we wield our Arts. It is a key factor in our fight against the Blight and for the future of civilization.”
Every one of his points was backed by information he had gathered beforehand, intel he had accumulated and research on Aether over decades. They were valid reasons, reasons that were hard to refute, if at all.
Perlica objects professionally. “Endministrator, with all due respect. Ardashir has repeatedly demonstrated the ability to influence entire populations, or at least aid in doing so. He infiltrated the Marker Stone, aided in the spread of the Blight, manipulated Ruan Yi and nearly caused the collapse of Wuling. This is not a matter of whether he has behaved for two weeks. It is a matter of what he has already proven himself capable of.
As expected of Endfield’s supervisor and the Endministrator’s closest aide, essentially, her first concern addressed was risk assessment, not the man himself. Yet, she does so professionally and objectively.
Chen, however, proves to be the opposite, always like a little spark that bursts into a flame easily with her passion for those around her. “He’s dangerous! You weren’t the one watching him smile while everything burned, and Arcane…” Her words hold experience, emotion. It proves a little harder to reason with, yet the Endministrator takes note all the same.
Someone from the Civilisation Band spoke up next. “You’re asking us to, what, seat a terrorist in strategy meetings?”
Another person mentions the number of souls lost in the Wuling disaster.
The room quickly becomes divided.
The Endministrator simply listens, then answers each objection and concern, one by one.
This showed why people chose to follow him. Why people put their trust into Endfield.
“I am not proposing freedom. I am proposing supervision while making use of knowledge we have at our disposal, if we act upon it. And I do agree, he cannot be trusted, which is why trust is not part of my proposal.” he responds calmly.
“I have put together a list of requirements and conditions for this, which I would like everyone to keep in mind regarding my proposition. Ardashir, under no circumstances, leaves the Dijiang. Lady Si’s Feranmut seal remains active in the form of power suppressors and trackers, which he will wear at all times. Under no circumstances will he be without supervision, either by me, or assigned and trained Operators.” He pulls up a drafted shift assignment, already taking precautions for the conditions he had thought of beforehand.
“He will not attend official meetings, only Endfield-internal strategy meetings that concern the Blight or anything Aether related. Reports of said internal meetings will be logged and sent to the Civilisation Band at any point, if requests for those arise. Should any of those conditions be violated, he will return into confinement immediately with no second chances given nor considered.”
Hushed murmurs follow his words, as the attending members and leaders think his decision over, contemplate his words thoroughly.
The most important key aspect in the way he presented his case was, however, that it was clear to everyone that he did not blindly trust Ardashir, nor had this been impulsively. He gleaned benefits to be gained, an opportunity to gain the upper hand in the fight they all fought together, and it was hard to argue with that. Knowledge, however valuable it may be, was no good if it was left ignored. He would not be the Endministrator, if he did not put his thought into these things beforehand, mapping out every concern and potential cause for disagreement, dismantling it with keen precision and factual statements.
The meeting went on for a whole three hours, in which important details were discussed, emergency plans in case something went wrong were formed and any remaining concerns had been addressed patiently and thoroughly.
“He’s killed people! Why would you want to give him any form of freedom after that?” Came a question from Chen.
“Because dead knowledge teaches nothing.” It was cruel, in a way, but honest. Logical. Reasonable.
“What if he lies?” Was another concern.
“Every statement will continue to be independently verified.” Was the answer.
Then, the most pressing question, naturally. “What if he escapes?”
The Endministrator sat a little straighter, elbows on his armrests and hands interlaced. “Then the proposal ends immediately and any stationed units are free to pursue the target.” Short. Direct. No emotion. Spoken like the commander of Endfield Industries.
Silence eventually becomes more present in the meeting, after everyone has spoken, after every objection, after every contingency. The Endministrator, patient and unshaken by the uproar that had taken place within the last hours, looks around the room.
“Unless there are new objections supported by information we have not already considered…” Silence, no interruptions this time. “The proposal stands.”
This time, it wasn’t a question - not anymore. Because he was no longer asking. He listened, he adjusted and now, he’s making the decision.
It serves as a reminder to everyone in attendance that, despite having been asleep for ten years, he still remains the commander, the Endministrator of Endfield Industries. No matter how warm his smiles may be, how kind his words may come across at times - he was still a leader by nature and dead-set on fulfilling his goal of saving civilization.
Then, Ardashir had been fetched by a squad of guards and the Endministrator. It was hard for him not to notice the current mood in the room. As strange as it had been, already, being fetched from confinement after the clear commotion on the Dijiang had been going on loud enough for him to catch wind of it…
Everyone’s tense. Weapons are held nearby.
The Phidia has been brought in front of the man’s chair, listening to the terms and conditions of his new circumstances with patience and an easy smile. If he had been surprised, at all, by the sudden change of circumstances, he did not show it.
Though, the Endministrator suspected that Ardashir already had an idea in his head prior, ever since the raven-haired man mentioned he’d prefer to have him by his side, rather than locked up in a room.
He bows deeply, as the Endministrator finishes. “If this is my Lord’s judgement, I shall accept whatever conditions accompany it.”
As the Endmin had thought, there were no complaints, no negotiations, no bargaining. As always, the only judgment that truly mattered to the white-haired man, of course, was that of his Lord’s.
Even when it was announced that he will remain a prisoner, in theory. Even when Si strengthened her power. Even when Chen herself stepped forward with the suppressing wristbands.
The room had expected some form of… resistance. Complaints. Anything. Yet, nothing came.
Instead, Ardashir calmly hands his cane to the Endministrator, who takes it as it had been the most natural course of action, unbuttons the cuffs of his turtleneck, then rolls the sleeves back. He extends both his wrists. “Please proceed, Lady Chen.”
Again, no sarcasm, no smug smile. Just politeness to an unnerving degree.
Chen couldn’t help the way a vein seemed to pop in her forehead as he showed absolutely no resistance.
And that, in itself, unnerved people even more. Because… Who acts like that?
The meeting had dissolved slowly after everything had been addressed and taken care of.
Small groups remained behind, conversations kept deliberately quiet, heads turning every so often toward the guards and the Endministrator escorting Ardashir through the corridors of the Dijiang. Some watched with open distrust, others with poorly concealed curiosity.
It seemed no one quite knew what to make of the former prisoner walking willingly between armed Operators as though he had simply been assigned to a new workstation.
The suppressing cuffs around his wrists gave off a faint golden glow with every step. Thin, black bands that were strengthened by the Endministrator’s Originium powers to keep them in place, imbued with Si’s Feranmut powers, to seal his own Arts.
His cane, however, remained absent.
The Endministrator never handed it back. At least, not yet.
By the time the Endministrator returned to the secured section of the ship, most of the Dijiang had already fallen quiet again, day-shift giving way to night-shift, bright lights dimmed into a soft yellow glow.
Ardashir’s new quarters were located directly opposite his own. Another decision that had raised more than one eyebrow during the meeting.
“If he is to advise and provide Endfield, I will not have him escorted across half the ship every time his knowledge becomes necessary.”, had been his argument, that was met with little resistance. It had been practical, efficient. Difficult to argue against, as a whole.
The two guards stationed outside the room straightened immediately. “Endministrator.”
He acknowledged them with a nod. “Leave us. I will take it from here.”
Neither questioned the order.
The heavy door slid open with a low hum. The room itself remained almost exactly as it had during Ardashir’s confinement, except it was bigger, more on the sparse side, now that he was located in the same wing as the Endministrator.
A desk with a chair. Doublebed. Window, the same plant. A small kitchenette adjacent to the living space, a table with two chairs. Kettle. Bare minimum, when it came to furnishings, but it had an adjacent bathroom as well.
There were also the books that had already begun accumulating in the previous room, now stacked neatly on the desk next to the window.
His cane leaned neatly against the wall, next to the bed. The Endministrator had it returned to the man under strict instructions of not using it, even with his powers sealed, unless he broke a leg, or both.
Ardashir stood beside the window, hands folded behind his back now, the black metal of the suppressors catching the light whenever he moved. Beyond the reinforced glass stretched nothing but the stars, the Dijiang’s current orientation not allowing a direct line of sight to Talos-II from this angle.
He turned, as the Endministrator closed the door behind him.
Ardashir bowed, then. Deeply. More than usual. “... My Lord.”
The Endministrator let out a quiet breath. “You know, I’m beginning to think that’s the one request you’ll never grant me.” Days ago, already, he had asked the Phidia to stop calling him so formally, yet the man had insisted on keeping the title in his vocabulary. Stubborn fool.
“Perhaps.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of apology in the answer. “If I cease calling you my Lord, I should first inquire about another title worthy of you.”
“... Endministrator would suffice.”
“It does not.” The answer came instantly. “It is merely your occupation, not a name, nor a way to properly show respect.”
The Endministrator did not argue back, silence settling over them once more.
“I suspect congratulations are in order.”, Ardashir spoke, as his gaze drifted to the black rings on each of his wrists.
At that, the black-haired man blinked. “For becoming my… prisoner?”
Silver-blue eyes lifted again. “For becoming the man who convinced an entire civilisation to trust his judgment. I found I had underestimated you.”
Now that caught the Endministrator off guard. “You did?”
“I had believed you would attempt to negotiate.”
“So you expected this.”
“I expected you to ask.”, Ardashir countered, then; “I did not expect you to succeed.”
The honesty, as always, drew a quiet laugh from the Endministrator. “I’m not sure anyone would describe today’s meeting as a success.”
“I would.” The Phidia’s words were spoken with nothing but honesty and certainty. “You stood before individuals who had every reason to reject your proposal. Yet, you listened, you answered, you conceded where appropriate. But when your decision had been reached…”, his expression softened into unmistakable admiration. “... no one mistook whose authority prevailed.”
Hearing those words made the Endministrator avert his gaze. “I don’t enjoy pulling rank.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you sound so pleased?”
Ardashir smiled faintly. “Power exercised reluctantly is often the safest kind.”
Letting out another sigh, the Endministrator leaned against the desk. “... You really thought they’d refuse.”
“I thought Lady Perlica might persuade you otherwise.”
“So did I, but she is still my supervisor.”
“And Lady Chen. I confess I believed she might physically remove me from the meeting.”
The Endministrator laughed outright at that, unable to help himself. “Maybe I should’ve warned you.”
“It would not have altered the outcome, which is what is of importance.”
“No… But she did look ready to throw your suppressors at your head, you know.”
“I noticed.”
“You still smiled when she put them on.”
“I was pleased.”
“At… being restrained?” The Endmin raised a questioning eyebrow.
Ardashir didn’t deny it. Of course he didn’t. “I had simply forgotten how fiercely they protect you.”
The words carried no jealousy, as he spoke them, no hatred or envy. Only quiet appreciation and something akin to gratefulness. “They remind me of the Operators who once served beside us.”
The atmosphere grew a little more tense again, at that. The Endministrator looked at the closed door for a moment. “They distrust me.”
“Naturally. But you’re important to them. They trust you enough to disagree, in that regard. There is no greater compliment a leader can receive.”
The Endmin considered those words, then. “You weren’t offended?”
“I would have been disappointed had they welcomed me, my Lord. I have given them plenty of reason not to do so.”
Again, there was no arrogance in that statement, just… conviction. A man whose dedication was different, yet so similar, to the same person.
The Endministrator studied him quietly. “You really don’t mind? The restraints? The guards and surveillance, the fact that you can’t leave this deck.”
Ardashir followed those gray-blue eyes to the suppressors on his own wrists. “They are consequences. Of Wuling and of my choices. I have accepted them.”
“Doesn’t this…” The Endministrator searched for the words. “... feel humiliating?”
For the first time since entering the room, Ardashir genuinely looked puzzled. “Why would it?”
“You’ve gone from essentially commanding armies to…”, he gestured vaguely around the room. “... this.”
Ardashir looked around his quarters. A bed. A desk. Small kitchen. A window overlooking the stars. Then back to the Endministrator. “My Lord.” His voice had become remarkably gentle. “I operated with Endfield because I chose to follow you. Then, I opposed Endfield because you once asked me to. I now advise Endfield, because you have asked me to.” A faint smile appeared. “My circumstances have changed many times, but they have never altered whom I chose to serve.”
Something tightened in the Endministrator’s chest. “... You make it sound simple.”
“Because it is.”
“It shouldn’t be…”
“For anyone else?”
“... Yeah.”
Ardashir inclined his head, his smile widening just slightly. “I am not anyone else.”
The silence that followed lingered longer than before, but it gave the Endmin a moment to further study the Phidia, to read into his seemingly acceptance. Eventually, he noticed something. “... You knew.”
“Hm?”
“You suspected I was planning something.
“I did.”
“But I never told you. How?”
Ardashir’s smile became almost sheepish. “Simply because I know you.”
“... That’s not really an answer.”
“It is the only one I possess.” After seeing the white-haired man’s smile widen further, the Endministrator folded his arms. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You genuinely guessed?”
“I observed. For the past several days, you stopped asking me questions solely out of curiosity. You began asking how I preferred to organise research, how I drafted reports, which departments I had once worked alongside. Practical questions, which led me to the conclusions of you imagining where I might fit with Endfield. It could not have been for reminiscents sake, you made it very clear that you showed little interest in that.” His eyes carried that familiar warmth again as he spoke, voice soft.
“... You noticed all of that. That’s… mildly terrifying.”
“So I have been informed previously.”
“Why didn’t you mention that you knew something was going on?”
“I did not wish to influence your decision.” There was no hesitation in Ardashir’s answer. “If you reached that conclusion, it needed to be solely yours.”
The Endministrator looked at him for a long moment. “... You trusted me.”
“I always have.”
“No… I mean now.”
Ardashir was quiet, then he smiled. “There has never been a ‘now’ in which I did not trust my Lord.”
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, nor spoke. Outside the room, the muffled sounds of the Dijiang continued as always - quieter, in this part of the spacestation, yet faint noise was always audible. The Endmin finally let out a slow breath.
“... Welcome back to Endfield.”
It wasn’t a declaration that Ardashir had been forgiven, nor that the past had been erased or restored.
It was something… smaller. More meaningful.
An acknowledgement that, despite the guards outside, despite the suppressors around his wrists and the weight of everything that still laid between them, Ardashir had been given a palace within Endfield once more.
The Phidia lowered his head. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“... I am back, my Lord.”
Somehow, in the span of just a few days, the Dijiang had turned into somewhat of a romcom. It was comical, almost, the way strange things kept happening.
Someone ordered Ardashir to wait, someone who wasn’t the Endministrator. He complied immediately without any remark.
Someone asked him to surrender his cane permanently, locking it away. He did so without complaints.
Someone else searched his room, before he was relocated closer to the Endmin’s quarters. He thanked them afterwards.
An Operator accidentally dropped documents in passing. Ardashir kneeled to help pick them up.
Everyone is… deeply uncomfortable by his behaviour. They had expected manipulation, cruelness, mindgames or worse. Instead they got… a frighteningly polite immortal, essentially.
Someone eventually mutters: “... is he broken?”
Perlica, of course, watches every bit of Ardashir’s actions, analyses his behaviour further. It bothers her even more, because, now, she can’t even justify disliking him based on current behaviour. All she had was the past events - which were plenty, of course - but… it complicated things, the way the white-haired man looked at their Endministrator.
And the way their Endministrator’s gaze softened, whenever he looked at the other man.
Work was swiftly resumed and adjusted. Most of the days were now spent inside the Endministrator’s office, one of the few parts of the Dijiang Ardashir was allowed to roam around in freely. When safety concerns had been brought up, the Endmin had simply waved it off with his hand, claiming he was more than capable to “take care of whatever may happen”, which did… nothing to ease the worries Endfield Industry had for their commander. But none dared to doubt him, of course. Concerns were still expressed, here and there, but it became evident swiftly enough that Ardashir seemed like… something of a happy puppy, in the presence of the Endmin.
The first time Perlica had seen the dazed smile the man didn’t bother hiding for once, the disgust on her face had been palpable, even after she had left the office. When Fiona had asked what shocked her so, the pale-haired woman couldn’t even explain it herself.
Two guards had been stationed outside of the door to the office, another two inside the Reception Room off to the side. One of the few compromises the Endministrator could not talk his way out of and had, albeit begrudgingly, conceded to.
He did not mind the new presence in his office, at all. He was no stranger to bustle nor activity, not when one lived aboard a spaceship overseeing an entire Organisation. He simply continued on with his paperworks and daily tasks as usual, with the addition of a second desk next to his now, Ardashir seated at the head of it with his own workload. They worked in peace and quiet, most times, though Ardashir had made it a habit to prepare them tea regularly and remind the raven-haired man to take breaks.
When the Endministrator had asked him about it before, he simply said: “You always used to forget to take care of yourself, my Lord. It seems some habits still cling to you, after all.”
Briefly, it crossed his mind that Ardashir would probably get him lunch on the regular, like he had mentioned doing so in the past before, if only he had the option to roam as far as the cafeteria on the Dijiang. Perhaps it was better that he couldn't.