Questions about the drought had been going on for four days now. During this time, the papers on Serak's desk had begun to pile up into uneven, crooked towers, and the air in the office seemed saturated with dust, sweat, and tension. He hardly ever left his seat. His hands, once firm and confident, now looked tired, as if the weight of power had finally begun to weigh on him too. He read, signed, crossed out, discarded, returned to the same pages again, hoping that a fresh look would reveal a different meaning or his mistakes. The skin on his face had darkened from sleepless nights, and his cheekbones had sharpened to the point of looking almost threatening.
If it weren't for Eggy, who tirelessly monitored his condition, Serak would probably have forgotten the smell of food altogether. He brought food twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, and each time he was met with only an irritated glance. Eggy no longer asked Serak calmly to eat at least a little, he began to insist, forgetting his position. He threatened to call a doctor, bribe the guards to hold him down while Eggy force-fed him, and bring food with blood if necessary. Serak, in most cases, silently waved him away. But not on this day.
"Lord, you haven't eaten in five mornings," Eggy said stubbornly, placing a plate of thick oatmeal porridge seasoned with honey and dried berries on the table next to Serak.
Serak didn't even look up from the paper. He just tensed his arm, and...
CRASH.
The ceramic plate shattered against the wall. Porridge dripped down the stone, and Eggy sighed silently. It was already the third plate that morning. He quietly moved his thin fingers, and the needles on his head trembled slightly, betraying his emotions.
"I have few enemies," Serak said quietly, finally looking up. "But each of them dreams of the fall of these walls. It doesn't matter how many there are — one, ten, or hundreds. There are always those around us who make plans against us. I am sure that rain is the most powerful sign for them to act."
"Or an opportunity," added Eggy. "And even more will consider it a weakness."
"Exactly. If I show that I am incapable of controlling the rain... then I am incapable of controlling anything."
Eggy came closer, bent down, and, removing the shards from the floor with a small spell, froze.
"But you may die of hunger before you die at the hands of your enemies."
"..."
"You spoke with the shamans. What did you decide?" Eggie decided to change the subject. After all, he would try to feed his lord again at lunchtime.
Serak did not answer immediately. He stared at the wall, where a sticky trace of food remained, and only after a few seconds did he speak.
"We still have a couple of days. The land is waiting, and the ritual will take place. But..."
Eggy tilted his head.
"But you don't know what to do with Omega?
The phrase hit him like a blow to the chest. Serak turned abruptly.
"He's part of it. He's... he's the source. No matter how I think about it, there's no one better suited to play this role than him."
After a short pause, he added impartially.
"And I don't feel sorry for him at all."
"Then stop seeing him as a thing. Try to see... a person." Eggy's voice became calm. He spoke not as a subordinate, but as an equal. "You want Omega's energy to bring fertility. But his fear and suffering will not feed the earth."
Serak smiled. Then, covering his mouth with his hand, he began to laugh hysterically, as if he had heard the funniest joke of his life. He slammed his fist on the table, scattering feathers and ink, and exhaled hoarsely:
"A person? Do you hear what you're saying? He's a slave. He's a creature that is bought or, as in our case, not even bought. He was given to me like a damn curse. And you want me to... build a relationship with him?"
"Yes. I think you should try. Start small. It's for the sake of your Earth," the assistant replied confidently. Serak raised his eyebrows and looked menacingly from his chair before replying.
"And what do you want to offer me? I've already eaten with him and even sprayed pheromones. Isn't that enough generosity on my part? Normally, omegas, especially those with a mark, would have been lying around my office like a carpet, swearing their love... but this one is just afraid."
"But you must understand him, my lord. He has lived his entire life in a cage. He cannot see your obvious generosity." Eggy paused for a moment and continued while Serak's attention was focused on him. "Start with general walks... with conversations."
Serak stared at Eggy, his nostrils flaring and his face filling with irritation. But Eggy's needles, usually sharp and pointing upwards, were relaxed. It was clear how calm and confident he was in his words.
"Walks," Serak repeated mockingly. "Next you'll be suggesting I hold his cock?"
"Not right away." Eggy shrugged. But quickly realising that Serak didn't appreciate his joke, he cleared his throat and continued. "But if you want to get what the altar is waiting for from him... You don't just need a sacrifice. You need him not to want to escape."
An oppressive silence hung in the office. Serak sank back into his chair, reaching for the ever-present bottle of whisky. For the first time in days, he felt anger giving way to fatigue.
"Have him taken out into the garden tomorrow. If he asks, tell him it's my wish. I'll try to join him on his walk."
"That's a start," said Eggie. And with that, he turned and left, leaving Lord alone with the ink stain spreading across the table and the crumbs of his shattered power.
No one could imagine how Serak's head was splitting apart. Decisions about the drought were not as difficult as the hateful disclosure of the soul to a slave.