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Alhaitham learns at an early age that he is not the same as other children.
On his first and only day at school, he is immediately disappointed by everyone around him. His classmates are loud and boisterous, uninterested in knowledge outside their syllabus. They speak of meaningless things like trending topics or researcher drama, and have mindless conversations that hurt his ears. They talk at length of their futures in the Akademiya - of the Darshans they will enter, of the great scholars they will become, of all the wisdom they will accrue. Yet none bother to read beyond and gather any of the knowledge they speak so highly of, instead waiting for their dreams to disappear, so they can gain access to an Akasha terminal and obtain information easily. When he points out this hypocrisy, he is met with annoyed glares and blank stares, so he stops trying to participate in their conversations. In any case, communication with them felt like slogging through mud; their unwillingness to examine other perspectives was too vexing to bear.
The teachers are no better, delivering simplistic and slow courses that teach him nothing new. Once they realise he is vastly ahead of his peers, they begin asking him to help instruct other students. He declines to do so, and is reprimanded for being self-centred, antisocial, and arrogant. At this, he gives up on paying attention in their lessons, and starts reading under his desk.
He feels restrained, trapped in a state of forced mediocrity. Apart from his only company being that of narrow, muddled minds, he is terribly under-stimulated. He desperately craves intellectual challenge, but his peers and teachers are unable to provide any. The remaining hours of his final school day are thus spent alone at his desk, counting down the minutes until the bells would sound and he could return home.
Afterwards, when his grandmother lets him stay at home to be schooled, it is a relief.
Alhaitham learns that people fear a precocious child, disliking those more intelligent than them.
As a young boy, he is bolder and less quiet - eager to know and share the information he’s learned. He asks endless questions; interrogating his grandmother’s friends when a subject intrigues him, or correcting objective errors in overheard conversation. Though he is aware that there was supposed to be a social hierarchy, and he should probably show respect to his seniors by not questioning their dialogue and opinions… he finds the unspoken rule unreasonable. Oftentimes, these people were simply wrong. It was only right to point out any flaws in their knowledge, lest they spread such inaccuracies further. And who could fault him for having interest in esoteric topics, even if they were uncommon for his age?
While his grandmother had never minded this blunt, audacious behaviour, her friends apparently do. His refusal to defer to their authority offends several of them, and they haughtily scold him; making snide remarks or shutting down his curiosity. “Children should stay in their place,” he hears. “To rush for knowledge is an immature endeavour; you do not yet have the insight required to understand the weight of such impetuous questions.” One particularly bold lady declares that the most prudent action for a child was to keep quiet, and listen to their elders - for with age came wisdom. A child should thus never challenge an adult, as “their knowledge would never be as precise or correct in comparison”.
Alhaitham’s grandmother reacts to these comments in kind - and hushed, angry whispers behind closed doors become a common occurrence, ending with many an old woman being kicked out. She begins going out with her friends instead of bringing them home, to spare him the trouble.
He does not understand. How could anyone resent intellect? Alhaitham would do anything to have an equal partner to debate with, a more intelligent mirror he could continuously learn from. He loves his grandmother deeply, but she cannot always keep up with the speed his mind operates, does not always comprehend the concepts he lights up at. Her Kshahrewar background in mechanics does give her stellar technical knowledge, which she shares whenever it piques his interest. Yet whilst largely intriguing, it does not frequently align with his fascination with language, and the rules it both shapes and disrupts. When he brings such topics up, she often mentions his late parents - to whom he shares an uncanny similarity - and he finds himself missing their company, even if they were akin to strangers he has never known.
His grandmother notices his dejection, and turns to him one day after pushing yet another grumbling friend out the door. “Do not worry, my child,” she says, bending down to place a warm hand on his cheek. “They do not understand your mind. Keep to your reading; learn all that you can. Eventually, you will find someone who values knowledge as much as you.”
The reassurance in her tone is comforting, but it still did not explain how a circle of fully grown adults could be so close-minded. Shouldn’t one’s reception to new ideas grow with age? …Regardless, the thought that he might eventually find others with similar interests did raise his spirits - though its accompanying reminder that peers in his age-group require more time to reach his level of maturity is… less than ideal. Until then, he supposes, he will just have to wait.
Alhaitham learns that people are inconsistent.
Enrolling back into the Akademiya ends up being the first time in years he has to interact with the general public. It is a… tough adjustment, to say the least. He had forgotten how many people danced around their true intentions, winding their words endlessly in circles so as to not offend the other party. This silly tiptoeing seemed unnecessarily troublesome to Alhaitham. After all, it often lead to miscommunication, and was really only present to spare a few potentially hurt feelings. It was significantly more straightforward and informative to state one’s honest opinion - no matter how sardonic or brusque it may be.
But his grandmother’s passing is a fresh wound, and for the first time in his life he experiences the discomfiting ache of loneliness. Therefore, he decides to play by societal norms for a week or two, to see if it made a difference when interacting with his peers. He grits his teeth at their meaningless conversation and keeps his mouth shut when asked for opinions - only choosing blandly honeyed words instead. He suppresses his individuality and tries to fit in, attempting to ignore the uncomfortable prickle of smothering his sense of self. He spends less time contentedly alone, making himself available to help other students with homework and questions. This whole act procures him a space in a group of top scholars, which lasts for all of two weeks until he asks one of them to share their opinion on a particular aesthetic structure he does not entirely comprehend. The person in question frowns at this request, before apologising that it was exam season, and hence they didn’t have time to help - especially when it was a query he could ask his Akasha. “Besides,” they add, “you already top our class in everything. This theory should hardly matter to you, since you’ll do well in the tests regardless of knowing it. That’s all you’d need that dull information for anyway, right?”
At that point he turns around and walks away, ignoring the bewildered calls that follow. He feels utterly disgusted and used, by these people he had sought to call ‘friends’. The ‘rapport’ they had built over the past couple weeks was a false facade. An illusion of mutual benefit; which they just proved they had no intention of reciprocating. He has compromised - tamped down his expectations, obeyed their foolish rules, tried his hardest to respect and understand them… but they had clearly never bothered to understand him in return.
So why, exactly, should he exert himself to accommodate others? If he invested the effort he had spent appeasing people into studying on his own, he likely would have been able to grasp the concept faster, with considerably less hassle and drama. This whole debacle confirms for him that the changing, contrary whims of other people cannot be relied upon. The only person he can trust to stay dependable and consistent is himself.
Alhaitham learns that people do not like their beliefs questioned, would rather stick with what they think is true instead of delving into the unknown.
Whenever he spots an inconsistency in his knowledge, he feels the urge to unravel. To stick his fingers in the crack and pry it wide open, to reveal the messy, interesting mysteries within. Deduce the puzzle and solve its contradictions, until the information he has uncovered slots cleanly into his understanding of the people and environment around him. It is the closest he can possibly get to grasping the truth of this world. This is why he prefers to read, for it is only through the written word that his curiosity could be fuelled, and where the answers to the most profound and enigmatic of questions could be found. Unlike the Akasha, the words in books were imperfect and subjective - but they were also insightful, and imaginative. They recorded stories and unveiled truths, detailing history that the sages did not deem worthy of inputting into the Akasha. They were biased, yes, but their sheer number presented a variety of opinions, illustrating the most complete possible picture of the world. Their content could not be updated or edited, and was often utterly wrong, but that allowed for a flexibility of the mind; encouraging the personal evaluation of every piece of information, and teaching the determination of legitimacy from falsehood.
This approach of repeatedly analysing, revising, and rectifying his own epistemic web is an excellent lesson, from which he attains genuine enjoyment. It continuously sharpens his intellect and refines his understanding, reminding him to never be overly trusting of the information he gains, nor to raise it on an unworthy pedestal. All knowledge is fallible, and to constantly question it is to learn. He would not trade this process of educating and enlightening himself for anything else.
Others, however, scorn this system. They complain of its difficulty; that the attention one had to pay to ceaselessly correct every little error present was far too tedious and frustrating. They condemned the ambiguity of the written word, preferring the supposedly objective information injected straight into their brains upon command. Even the vast diversity of perspectives available was a source of discomfort; for many viewpoints were different from their own, and they refused to question the validity of their deep-seated beliefs.
“We already know our knowledge to be true,” they argue. “The Akasha vouches for its legitimacy, and thus it must be so, for it knows better than we. Anything outside of its scope is irrelevant and meaningless. Why should one waste time corroborating it with something as primitive, clumsy, and inefficient as reading?”
Their self-subjugated ignorance, their contentment with never mending the gaps in their knowledge - is incomprehensible to him. Sumeru was the nation of wisdom, after all. What worth was wisdom, if its people elected never to use it?
Alhaitham learns that people are not inherently inquisitive, and do not actually value intellect.
When he had first re-entered the Akademiya, he was filled with naive certainty that he would be able to find the equal partner his grandmother spoke of, so long ago. That surely with time, others his age have matured, gaining the same thirst to learn he possessed. That they would keep up with his mind, and similarly understand how valuable knowledge could be. But now, he realises that the majority of scholars simply never develop any of these inclinations.
He has grown with the need to know and learn; not for fame, success, or power - but solely to satisfy his own curiosity. He is driven to understand the fundamental rules of this world, and he develops his knowledge base along this line of inquiry; enlightening himself on all that is available to him. His peers, on the other hand, are shallow and narrow-minded, focused only on information that they deem worthy. It is a habit that frustrates him to no end, and it all culminates when it finally comes time for them to select their field of study.
To pick a Darshan, he thought, was to choose to specialise in your preferred field, not to limit yourself to it. Yet there is an increasing number of students who insist work outside their chosen Darshan is irrelevant and useless, that having interdisciplinary knowledge will never be as useful as hyper-specialising in one domain. Classmates start preparing for the Darshan entrance exams - and become dismissive of the general knowledge they were taught throughout their schooling; praising their Darshan’s work as the most important, the most valuable, the most meaningful, the most efficient. As if knowledge could ever be ranked by its utility. It implied that wisdom served them, suggested that knowledge was but a stepping stone in search of the truth.
Alhaitham disagrees. Truth is no man’s servant or master, and was not invented by any particular Darshan’s contribution to knowledge. The personal acquisition of said knowledge by the researcher is the point, no?
So he studies for the Haravatat entrance examinations; but he continues to read widely, even perusing other Darshan examination papers as a pastime. His classmates sneer, asserting that he will never become a Sage by spreading himself so thin. Alhaitham is confused by their assumptions. Why would he want to become one? Why was that the ultimate goal, for a scholar? Should the ultimate goal not be to quench one’s own thirst for knowledge, to expand one’s horizons, and cultivate one’s epistemic body? Why should anyone confine themselves to a specific Darshan of knowledge, dismissing information as worthless if it was not within their scope? He already knows he will enrol in Haravatat - so what harm was there in looking beyond, in self-studying subjects he is otherwise unlikely to look at in his academic career?
It is not like he asks to know everything either; he is still driven purely by whatever intrigues him. Aesthetic fields like architecture and art have never been his forte, but he feels no urge to conquer or dominate them. If he happens to study them, it is because that particular topic has caught his interest. Some others, however, veer the other extreme - seeing knowledge yet unknown as a threat they must best and subdue, taking pride in being all-knowing. Except, their understanding is rushed and superficial, used mostly to appear wise and learned despite being neither.
Seeing his fellow schoolmates gorge on knowledge without true understanding, scrabble for ‘elite’ fields of study, and scorn his desire to learn are the final straws that convince him they will never value knowledge in the way he does. Intellect valued for intellect’s sake alone appeared to be too much of an anomaly in this modern day and age. His grandmother must have been wrong. Finding an equal partner was impossible after all.
Alhaitham learns he is difficult to get along with.
It is not until his late teens that he realises many people dislike being around him; finding him rude and frustrating and abstruse. He notices others will gossip outside of tutorials, scowl when he drags a lecture by correcting a professor, and shun him outside class. They call him blunt, insensitive, heartless - tell him the straightforward way he converses is far too sharp and unfeeling, refusing to understand his justification for doing so. He hears muttering about his interests being too complicated, his thoughts being too abstract. And those who do approach him in a bid to be his friend are dull and superficial; uninterested in scholarly debate and only cajoling him for assistance with their grades. A few times, he tries to bring them into intellectual discussion, but he sees their interest wane after the first few words uttered. Hence, he ends up largely ignoring their presence, or coldly dismissing their company. After attempts at a meeting or two, they give up, starting to avoid him as well.
This stings, at first. But… after some contemplation, he decides that perhaps, such feeble minds are not worth wasting his time on. The intellects of others are objectively weaker, their psyches evidently flawed. He has no reason to play by their arbitrary rules. Why should he subject himself to their mediocrity, no matter how normative it may be? It is not a glamorous pedestal which he places himself upon - but rather a necessary separation from all the meaningless, irritating noise that surrounds him. In fact, since societal restrictions had proven themselves to be limiting and asinine, he decides to come up with his own set of laws. The value of clear-headed logic and sharp rationality; of disregarding the inept majority, of prioritising one’s personal growth above all else. They are crystallisations of his ideology and worldview, from which he dictates his behaviour.
So he acts by his own will, and learns to ignore the prickle of loneliness and disgust, the chafe of distaste and rejection; smothering them in a coat of contempt. Besides, the isolation this subjects him to will give him more opportunity to get work done without distraction. After all… there was no rational reason to care about what others thought of him. It was abundantly clear to him now that such opinions would only hold him back.
Alhaitham learns that nevertheless, there are people with exceptions.
By the time he enters his Darshan, he has written off most of the Akademiya’s student population.
The peers in his year are older, and either sneer at his youth or attempt to impress him with their seniority. He finds their posturing largely ridiculous, and decides they are not worth interacting with. Hence, he spends most of his free time between classes in the House of Daena, exploring the endless walls of bookshelves and reading in peaceful silence. He is content to be alone, away from his hypocritical classmates and their endless race for a knowledge out of arm’s reach.
When Alhaitham first meets Kaveh, he is like a ray of sunlight, piercing through the stuffy gloom of the Akademiya’s halls. He is refreshing in every way - talking to Alhaitham as an equal; listening to his ideas and arguments without dismissing them as inferior, despite being his senior. There is no pompous disdain, no arrogant showing off. Kaveh is not threatened by Alhaitham’s extensive body of knowledge, instead taking the time to learn more about the unfamiliar topics he brings up, so they can discuss it in a later conversation. He reads widely beyond his Darshan too, mentioning how important a broad scope of expertise is in implementing varying aesthetics for his work. He does not blink an eye at being called a “genius”, disregarding the label as Alhaitham always has, and focusing instead on his own dedication to his field of interest, driven by curiosity rather than greed for power or fame.
Even his chronic disorganisation is more endearing than irritating. He is wildly inconsistent, yes, but there is a pattern to this behaviour. Alhaitham learns to predict when Kaveh gets upset, giving him the opportunity to form habits in response; buys coffee on Thursdays after he stays up late on Wednesday nights when bogged down by inspiration following his aesthetics module; allocates Friday evenings to accompany him in the House of Daena, where he will be catching up on his overdue mathematics homework; skips class on Tuesdays to have lunch with him after he comes out delayed from his modelling lecture - hair slipping out of clips and hands flying everywhere - as he launches into a tirade about his latest argument with the overly conservative professor.
And in turn, Kaveh generously reciprocates; warmly thanks him for the coffee every time, no matter how exhausted he is; saves him a seat in the House of Daena, even when its bustling with stressed students during exam season; and waits for him patiently outside his lecture hall, despite all other students having long left. There is no expectation or demand for his attention or assistance - just a quiet, unspoken appreciation for his actions. Alhaitham must admit, however, he would not necessarily mind if these little favours were not always consistently repaid in kind. Indeed, seeing Kaveh pleased and smiling inspires a sort of satisfaction within him, an odd sense of content. It only made sense then to make life easier for Kaveh wherever possible, so as to improve his mood and prolong his happiness. To drive away Kaveh’s troubles is to drive away his own, and thus he continues to help Kaveh out without a need for recompense - not out of empathy or moral obligation, but simply because he wants to.
Except… there is one key issue in their dynamic. Kaveh speaks highly of compassion, of collaboration and compromise and mutual understanding in undertaking all affairs. Alhaitham finds this absurd. Such a mindset inherently relied on the intellect, abilities, and behaviour of other people - all exceedingly inconsistent variables. In his experience, people were highly illogical, and often did not act in ways that benefitted themselves, let alone others. It was pointless to compromise with someone in an endeavour to work with them, when on average, they would be unwilling to accommodate others in turn. After all, why try to play by another’s rules when few had ever attempted to understand or evaluate his own? Hence, to believe that wisdom required humanity to achieve, to naively conclude that human cooperation and empathy remained the best method to advance society, was a thoroughly inefficient and idealistic way of living.
He tells Kaveh as much, and is genuinely startled by the impassioned refutation Kaveh gives in return. Kaveh is rarely one to argue over a subject, usually trying his best to hear out dissenting thoughts, no matter how daft or farcical they may be. In all fairness, it is not always a behaviour he reserves for Alhaitham, since he does enjoy complaining about Alhaitham’s deeply rational and pragmatic views. But this particular matter, however, seems… different, from the other disagreements they share over aesthetics or interpretation. Kaveh is wholly, ardently committed to this dream of a kinder, more beautiful world, and he will not hear of its impracticality.
Their daily meetings move from more superficial, intellectual discussions to much deeper, complex arguments - which always turn into stalemates whenever their differing values come into question. Alhaitham has never lost a debate; never encountered a conflicting viewpoint he was unable to rationalise away, or rattle the other party into backing down from. Yet Kaveh holds steadfast to his perspective, coming up with new, vehement defences every time they renew their dispute. Alhaitham cannot say he understands Kaveh’s philosophy of upstanding morality, no matter the cost; nor his devotion to helping and pleasing others… but he does hold a genuine respect for Kaveh’s commitment to his ideals. Thus, their clashes in ideology become the backbone of the many topics they agree to disagree on.
Alhaitham learns that he may sometimes be wrong.
Their joint research project being the final catalyst that destroys the delicate balance of their relationship should have been, in some ways, no surprise. He had held the conviction that their fellow students were objectively weaker for some time. Thus, it was obvious that their project should involve only scholars who were able to comfortably handle the academic rigour, for it was the most efficient route. If that ended up with the two of them as the sole researchers, then so be it. Kaveh’s insistence on bringing in increasingly useless collaborators, however, had been an acute source of vexation for Alhaitham. Therefore, it was truly only a matter of time before the situation was due to explode into an argument.
Still, to hear “I wish I never got to know you!” said viciously with intent to hurt, by the only man he valued and respected… It cut deeper than any scorn or insult he had ever received. He thought he had found someone who understood him, without rhyme or reason or explanation. He thought he had found someone who grasped that he was different; who accepted and appreciated it, without requiring more than he could give, or forcing him to fit in. He had cherished and trusted in their relationship, for he was confident he finally found someone who could be his perfect match, his perfect mirror - who looked through the genius, looked through the prickly, difficult personality and saw him. The equal partner he had hoped for, a lifetime ago.
But he would have to learn to curb this pride and certainty, because apparently his judgement could lead him wrong too. Clearly, his relationship with Kaveh had been a mistake. A foolish error.
He removes his name from their half-finished thesis - effectively scrubbing the entire debacle from his academic record - before setting himself to work on several individual projects to make up for the cost of abandoning such a promising study. Keeping himself busy helps reduce the sting from losing a close companion, and he rationalises that the passing of time will eventually render the whole situation a distant, unpleasant memory. Nonetheless, the ache of Kaveh’s absence still haunts him throughout his personal research, which causes his efficiency to slow. He cannot help but be vaguely irked, troubled by his inability to move past the feelings of biting sorrow and regret, despite their utter senselessness.
Of course, he would never have this any other way. He would never buckle to societal norms; trading his stubborn rationality, egoism, and self-driven curiosity for a loss in individuality. He would never change his behaviour; mincing his blunt, straightforward communication into palatable, crowd-pleasing words. His intellect was a trait that he took pride in, and the unique perspective it gave was one he greatly valued - even if it often ended up putting him at odds with most others. Still, the fleeting thought occurs: if he was ‘ordinary’… handling this situation would be easier. After all, the average Akademiya student had always been able to keep Kaveh’s company without regrets.
Once the raw pain of their fallout has finally subsided, he forces himself to look back and analyse everything that has happened. He picks apart the bitter memories and links each broken shard; reflecting on every previous decision questionably made. After scrutinising the development and eventual breakdown of their relationship, he reaches three conclusions which highlight his mistakes. His initial error had been getting close to Kaveh in the first place. To get close to a person was to get invested in all their petty troubles and dramas, and as gratifying as it could feel in the moment… that time would be better spent focusing on his own growth. Moreover, there had been no use pointing out flaws or giving advice to Kaveh; for he could not help those who refused to help themselves. Alhaitham’s observations of this world have only further affirmed his philosophy, so if others chose to ignore it… well, the consequences of such decisions would no longer be his problem. And lastly, their disaster of a relationship had demonstrated once and for all that nobody could form a deep, mutual connection with him… so the bitter loneliness that realisation brought was simply one he would have to bear.
Typically, upon solving a problem and connecting the dots, he would feel a sense of fulfilment, of satisfaction. Yet afterwards; despite having deciphered the definitive how and why of their relationship’s inevitable end, he feels nothing but a hollow, aching emptiness.
Alhaitham learns that people in the Akademiya are shallow in their pursuit of knowledge.
Upon graduation, he applies for the role of Scribe, despite professors recommending him for higher positions. He settles into the job with ease; taking full advantage of the comfortable stipend provided, while relishing the unfettered access to the House of Daena’s archives - inaccessible even to enrolled students.
At first, he writes the occasional article here and there, submitting personal research that he’s pursued out of curiosity. But he starts to notice that other academics publish articles focused less on the research itself; instead constantly trying to outdo their fellows, or aiming to make the most impressive, flashy contribution to their Darshan. The Akademiya’s lowered funding for creative subjects causes enrolment in related Darshans to drop; leading to higher application rates within popular Darshans. This results in several fields becoming over-saturated, so journals begin to publish research for the sake of research; articles filled with repetition and publications lacking in intellectual substance. Add on the general hypocrisy and arrogance of the average researcher…
Alhaitham remains thoroughly unimpressed with the state of academic inquiry in his peers. Was no one in the Akademiya here for the satisfaction of knowledge itself? All this petty squabbling and useless posturing simply distracted from the real goal they were here to achieve. Not to mention, many of these subpar journals were entered into the Akasha, further diluting its already questionable pool of information. These observations are overall rather repulsive, so he opts to disengage with the academic scene entirely. The only contributions he now makes to the scholarly community are when he reads the commentaries written by a certain beloved architect; which he deigns worthy of response. Even if it’s only to point out every flaw in each argument, of course.
Alhaitham learns that people are easily corrupted in their quest for knowledge, discarding the core beliefs that once shaped them for the promise of wisdom.
Over the next few years, his work as the Scribe increases. Reports of high-ranking scholars getting disciplined for unruly research soar, whilst punishments handed out by the Mahamatra seem to dwindle in severity. There is instead a focus upon cracking down on Knowledge Capsule distribution - particularly those that allow the user access to information beyond their clearance. It has been a trend to cease learning for oneself; to follow the majority’s thinking without questioning its truth. Many low-level researchers lack the urge to seek out their own information, with little interest in breaking their clearance to gain the knowledge supposedly above their station. For those in the upper echelons - who rampantly bid to gain power and wisdom - chasing knowledge beyond what they could handle or reasonably acquire becomes a tantalising opportunity. Unethical experiments are conducted to surpass the results of previous studies, whilst others turn to the allure of tainted Knowledge Capsules. The Akademiya’s stance on censorship further pushes the dangerous knowledge black market to thrive, leading to even more trouble and paperwork. Alhaitham works resentfully throughout it all, privately wondering what this nation is coming to.
Values shape how one approaches, evaluates, and utilises knowledge. Such virtues were supposedly drilled into members of the Akademiya, and were the guiding principles of its structure and function. Yet the Akademiya’s actions betrayed a distinct incongruence with said values. Did it not sully one’s ingenuity to blindly hunt for forbidden knowledge, with greedy pursuit instead of wise and careful consideration? Was it not against praxis to be overly reliant on the Akasha, rejecting practice of rationalisation and analysis with one’s own mind? And to spew arrogant claims of progress for all, whilst silencing dissenters and denying education to the marginalised; was that not the very antithesis of admonition?
The Grand Sage, of course, does not seem to care about any of this - largely ignoring Alhaitham’s criticism and feedback during the policy panels he holds. And though it is admittedly a development Alhaitham himself does not mind, he realises that the number of meetings he is called to scribe for have dwindled in number.
In truth, it is not an unexpected outcome to see his fellows lose themselves in the vain pursuit of knowledge, failing to recognise the hypocrisy of their efforts. Given the trajectory the Akademiya has been headed, he had assumed it an inevitable shift. But… it is not always desirable to have his assumptions proven correct.
Alhaitham learns that in spite of those whose morality ebbed and flowed with power, there were still some people who did not waver - steadfast in their beliefs.
After listening to Kaveh’s rant in Lambad’s Tavern, he realises that maybe, he was wrong. Maybe the conclusions he had reached all those years ago were flawed. Maybe he finds Kaveh exceedingly intriguing; a singular individual, who directly contradicts everything he has ever known and understood about the world. Maybe the presence of such a blatant antithesis to his life’s philosophy indicated that it was lacking a crucial component. Maybe, that missing puzzle piece was to be found within Kaveh’s company. Maybe, there was far more for Alhaitham to learn from their previous relationship than he had originally thought. Maybe… it was worth trying for again.
Before, Alhaitham had found the idea of a life lead by naive idealism to be incompatible with reality. It was not conceivable that one could fulfil their aspirations whilst obeying such ingenuous notions. Yet here Kaveh was. Sticking to his foolish ideals and suffering for them in turn; not out of idiocy or ignorance, but because he truly believed in their worth and importance. With a bitter expression, and world-weary eyes that gleamed with fire and ambition, he chose again and again and again to realise them. Paying the price for his pursuit, yet gritting his teeth and trudging on towards them regardless.
Kaveh still meets his gaze with the same stubborn conviction as he did all those years ago, when Alhaitham had promised his quixotic dreams would inevitably fail. And, judging by the new glimmer of green at his waist, it is a conviction the gods themselves have deemed worthy. He is a thoroughly fascinating example to study. Alhaitham wants to observe him more.
So, he makes the first and only rash decision of his life, and invites Kaveh home.
Despite the friction that arises between them now, Alhaitham steps carefully, cautiously; not wanting to break open old wounds. He is patient with his words and lenient with his actions, allowing Kaveh far more grace than he would grant any other. He is older, he is wiser, he is determined to prove to himself that he has learned - and he intends to ensure that he will not succumb to his past mistakes again.
Alhaitham has learned he has never been the same as other people; but then again, he has never particularly wanted others to be the same as him. Indeed, his life would be substantially easier if the average Sumerian gained a modicum of his common sense. However, he was keenly aware of the limits in experiencing life through his sole perspective. To truly attain the depth of wisdom he desires, he has to understand life from another angle. Gain insight by examining a disparate point of view. Study the world through a different lens. Some knowledge, in the end, cannot be reached on one’s own.
Yet in spite of his beliefs, it has been rather challenging to find someone who would endure his sharp edges - seeing through the prickly words and blunt tongue to put up with him. Most shied away from his difficult personality, condemning it behind closed doors. Worse still, some idolised it as a genius’ quirk, with no understanding of the man behind it. These individuals were, of course, not worth paying attention to anyway.
But Kaveh was different. Kaveh constantly questioned him; arguing with his every decision and conclusion instead of simply deferring to him. Kaveh grasped the meaning and context of his words; keeping up easily with him in conversation and adding interesting contributions. Kaveh remained wholeheartedly committed to his contrasting philosophy; yet he still took on the brunt of Alhaitham’s overwhelming self. Kaveh was willing to stay with- for him; as much Alhaitham was willing to stay for Kaveh in turn.
Alhaitham realises he may not be the most well-versed in social relations; may not understand the mutual expectations of traditional romance, or the casual give and take of conventional friendship. But he recognises this precious thing he shares with Kaveh as the valuable wonder that it is. A true treasure, more exquisite and rare than any novel knowledge or groundbreaking research. So, he will keep around this foil, this mirror, for as long as he possibly can.
He has learned that much, after all.