But that wasn't even Idris's real trump card.
Watching Keqing, Lisa, and the others, he smiled. "If you wish, I can share this grafting technique. You'll receive our accumulated research experience and the technical method itself."
Faces lit up at once. Xiangling all but sparkled—if it worked, Liyue could cultivate brand-new ingredients, a siren call for any chef. Hu Tao gave Idris a longer look, as if to say: No wonder our 'consultant' speaks so highly of you—your nerve matches your talent.
On the Mondstadt side, Venti, Eula, Amber, and Lisa were equally delighted.
Then, as leaders do, they sobered and asked the obvious:
"Truly? But, Grand Sage—why do this?"
A technique this valuable would be hoarded anywhere else. Not only was Idris not locking it down—he was offering it up.
Idris answered calmly.
"First, the patent remains ours. What I'm offering is a license to use it.
Second, grafting shouldn't be confined to Sumeru. The world's flora grows in countless climates with countless habits—precisely the diversity this technique thrives on. Working with you helps our research, too."
He had another reason, unspoken: once the idea of grafting exists, curiosity ensures someone, somewhere, will reinvent it. You can lock down pill recipes—alchemy hides behind sealed formulas—but you can't police every orchard for clever hands and a knife. Sooner or later, someone would succeed; when that happened, control would shift anyway.
Better to license early, earn goodwill and revenue, and fix Sumeru's name to the breakthrough. Let the world praise the Grand Sage—he knew when to talk like a friend and when to build like a statesman.
None of that nuance showed on his face. It didn't need to. The delegations exchanged glances and nodded almost as one.
"Agreed."
"Heh. My thanks," Idris said. "I can't see you off—this afternoon I have preparations. My staff will bring the contracts. See you tonight."
He bowed lightly and left without a backward glance. Another party was landing—Fontaine. Somehow, everyone had chosen the same day.
Watching his retreating back, Hu Tao rubbed her chin. "No wonder our 'guest consultant' keeps praising him. He's… not ordinary."
Keqing nodded. "To hand us a core technology without a second thought—and say it's for the good of the method itself…" She sighed. "I can't read the whole play yet. Governing at his level… every move carries politics."
Xiangling shook her head. "Do we have to overthink it? Maybe he just wants the technique to spread."
From the Mondstadt line, Amber chimed in: "If that's so, he truly is worthy of 'sage among men.' But he's not only a sage—he's a consummate politician. If there's a trap in plain sight, we probably couldn't see it."
Lisa's gaze stayed soft in the direction Idris had gone. "Genius and gall, both. Sumeru is lucky to have such a Grand Sage. It reminds me of our Acting Grand Master, Jean—the same age, more or less—but Idris's name already carries farther. Sometimes… a leader must be willing to be the 'bad guy' to protect the whole."
The Mondstadters, reluctantly, nodded. Idris had worn the title barely a month, yet his impact already outpaced Jean's. The difference, in part, was simple: Jean is kind. Sometimes too kind.
Noon slid by. Idris used the break to clear urgent Sumeru business.
An express packet had arrived—not from an official, but from the Aranara, the white forest sprites, relayed via Collei.
From Forest Ranger Collei
Some little white spirits of the forest asked me to forward this. They say: your current method for dealing with the Withering only hides it, buying a brief peace at best.
Hidden Withering will eventually gather into Marana, striking back with a vengeance. By then, even the Shouki no Kami may not hold.
Their investigations show the Withering is already retreating beneath the surface, converging deep under Sumeru, creeping toward Sumeru City.
In five days at the shortest, a week at the longest, this danger will erupt.
The Aranara's letter ran long, detailing how they wished to heal the rainforest—seed after seed of sacrifice, turning themselves into "the Power of Seeds."
Idris skimmed—and stopped. The Shouki no Kami was doing its job; the Withering was cornered, which meant it would soon lash out. The Aranara feared that moment.
He'd been waiting for it.
He penned a crisp reply.
"Aranara—so I shall call you, for that is most fitting in Sumeru's long history.
I know your concerns. Perhaps you also resent that my tenure still keeps the little Lord Kusanali in the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
But trust this: you may doubt the gods of Sumeru can finish this. I can."
He sent it off. Someone would see it delivered. Ignoring Nahida's faintly peeved look, he stepped out to greet his afternoon guests properly. A god of Fontaine herself was coming; appearances mattered.
Soon he stood at Bayda Harbor, north of the city. Smaller than Port Ormos, yes—but today it would receive a singular visitor: Furina, Hydro Archon of Fontaine.
The ship that docked glittered like a stage crown. When the lady descended, Idris walked forward, composed.
"Welcome, honored guests of Fontaine. And welcome, Lady Furina."
He offered a hand. She almost took it on reflex, then coughed lightly, remembering her station.
"Ahem… Well—seeing you so enthusiastic, I shall permit a handshake."
"My honor," he said, and their hands met.
Nahida's whisper curled in his ear. Strange. I don't feel any divine flux from her. No tide of faith about her… Is she truly the Hydro Archon?
With her senses, the anomaly was obvious.
Idris's surprise flickered and vanished. "Even without godly power, it doesn't matter. If the people of Fontaine believe she is their Water God—and the world recognizes it—that's enough."
"…Fair point," Nahida murmured.
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