Relik stared at the boots before him.
They were, according to Wyva, standard-issue Imperial leather.
Boots made specifically for The Empire's Hands reinforced with Iké-reactive fibers, that molded to the wearer's feet. In theory, it was to ensure that the Hands could maintain a shoeless feeling whilst being able to traverse diverse terrain.
For anyone with a mark or knowledgeable enough about balancing their Iké, the boots would react perfectly each time.
Relik on the other hand sat as the perfect foil for such adaptive technology. As he was both unmarked and had poor quality Iké.
From the moment Relik put them on, they seemed to suffer an existential crisis.
The left boot had shriveled into something resembling a dried prune, while the right had expanded into a bucket for hauling coal.
"Stop fighting the leather, kid," Wyva's voice drifted as he continued shuffling through crates of leather armour.
"Just... try to think 'small' at the right foot and 'large' at the left."
"I am thinking!" Relik snapped as the the two shoes went from one extreme to another independent from his mental request, "I'm thinking about how much I hate these shoes. And stop calling me kid! We've established you're only two years older than me."
Relik paused to take a breath, "even though spiritually you're twelve."
Wyva stepped out from the shadows, tossing heavy, cream-colored garbs over Relik's head.
"Twelve was a great age for me. I had no joint pain and my soul didn't feel like a used dishcloth yet," he then placed his hand on Relik's chest, "breath in."
Once the command was followed he took a step back, his eyebrows drawn tight.
"Your Iké must be incredibly unbalanced."
"Eh?"
Wyva rolled his eyes, "You know how Iké is made right."
"Yeah it's the soul," Relik responded as though he was offended that someone would question his common knowledge.
The Alven snickered then went back to the crates.
"Iké is what happens when you mix energy created by your soul and the energy created by your body. Shahari typically have an easier time creating Iké than other races because your people naturally have equal soul and physical parts. You, however, have a higher spiritual value than some Alven."
Relik paused for a bit. Unsure how to process what was being said to him, "So how do I fix that?"
"By consciously suppressing how much spiritual energy you mix into your Iké," Wyva stopped in the middle of moving crates to look at the other boy, "didn't the priests in your tiny village point this out?"
"It's a regular sized village. And no," Relik replied, "they mainly taught me how to use a bolt gun without overcooking it."
"If I didn't know any better I'd assume that they held that from you on purpose."
Relik swallowed at the thought, while Wyva chuckled to himself.
"But I do know better."
The two ignored the weight of the statement in favour of going back to whatever was being done prior to it.
That thing draped over your head is a Hand's ceremonial piece. It's three sizes too big, because we have a surplus of Hurc uniforms. Plus, you're taller than me and I'm an Alven so they should be the right length."
Relik struggled out from under the fabric, his skin itching against the coarse material.
He looked at himself in a silt covered mirror, the cobwebs allowing just enough space that he could catch his reflection.
Sure he was tall for a Shahari but he was still tiny by Hurc standards. The only intelligent race that was bigger than them were the Shink-Ra themselves. So, what would appear a regular sized one-piece for them, was a tent for anyone else.
Relik stared at his reflection for a beat chaining together a series of curt nods before accepting his fate, "I look ridiculous."
"You look unimportant," Wyva corrected, snapping his own mask into place. "And in this city, being unimportant is an envied commodity."
Wyva produced a crumpled piece of parchment with what seemed to be a list.
Relik attempted to read but stopped himself before the words came out. The realisation that he could barely read this penmanship.
"Did they write this during an earthquake," Relik queried, "with their toes?"
Wyva seemed unamused, "the first one's Master Elian, Cloud Garden."
Relik looked up at the Hand then back to the paper in his hand, "there's no way these letters match up."
"Ignore it," Wyva began walking off, Relik followed closely, "point is I know this guy because he's my neighbour."
"This writing is a cause for concern. Have you not written since you were four?"
"Elian's the elite of the elite or at least he used to be," Wyva continued, "I usually avoid him you know, likes to share his war stories that I don't really care for. Heck, I doubt he could be what you're looking for given he's mostly retired now. I'm just taking you there out of courtesy."
"I see," Relik nodded, "I bet even with tremors he could write better than this."
The Cloud-Gardens were to the South of Remu, though it was mainly for Alven folk. A few Hurc and Shahari, who were deemed to have the spiritual aptitude high enough resided amongst them.
Which was why Elian owned an apartment in the same building Wyva lived.
The city centre was where everyone converged and so there were enough spaces in-between the buildings to allow the large gatherings.
For the Alven who mostly kept to themselves even amongst themselves; they focused their architectural skill into erecting tightly packed pillars each topped with lush green terraces that extended just tall enough the eclipse the Temple's bridges.
They found that Elian was sitting at the riverside staring of at nothing in particular.
Relik agreed that there was no way this could be the traitor.
Wyva, meanwhile, had already abandoned the plan and had found an Alven woman selling mooncakes out of a basket.
"Master Elian?" Relik asked as he approached the man's bench.
Standing at this distance, the idea of this being the person they were looking for seemed even more ridiculous.
The Shahari was just slightly shorter than Relik but seemed to be at least ten kilos heavier. The man sitting before him was one gust away from drifting off to nowhere.
Elian sighed his eyes still fixed on the running water, "this is he."
"My name's Relik, I just recently passed the trial I have... I mean had a few questions to ask you, but I don't find a response necessary."
"Relik?" the man muttered, "that's a Shink-Ra name isn't it."
"Not too sure sir?"
The man hummed bemused.
Wyva didn't even look up from his moon-cake. "How you doing Elian?"
"I was great until your associate here walked over here just to judge me."
"Gyé, it's his first hour," Wyva chuckled walking over with two mooncakes, "wish yoh had your eyesight so you could see his boots."
The old man let out a laugh, reaching out for the mooncakes with practiced ease, collecting them before Wyva even offered them.
"Is it confidential?" The elder asked to break the brief silence.
"Only if you promise not to tell a friend," Wyva dropped down next to the man.
"You know damn well they're all dead, I'm just waiting until Astra's man enough to try me at this point."
Wyva motioned for Relik then provided a soft blink of his eyes, "Gyé."
"Um there was a Shahari-"
"There always is a human isn't there," the man interrupted going off on a tangent, "everytime something goes wrong under Astras guidance it's always a human taking matters into his own hands.
When I was a boy, way back when Shahari was still being used as an insult, upright apes they used to call us. Why because a bunch of human soldiers defected to the enemy for some reason. We spent years building back our reputation. Here we are though, you couldn't get a good two decades before we decide to stir discourse again. It's almost like we're destined to break things."
Relik looked at Wyva who still had his eyes closed. From the slow rising and dropping of his chest, he could tell that the bastard was taking a nap.
The old man went on about his youth with the boy standing by all too polite to interrupt. Sure, they had more important things to do but making an enemy along the way was worse than the time constraints.