Chapter 11: Interview

 

 

 

Chapter 11: Interview

 

“THERE’S a wretched mage in here!” a hoarse, rasping voice came bouncing off the stone floor and walls.

An elderly, short, wrinkled man of eighty stood in the doorway wildly swinging his walking stick. Though his hairline had receded, his hair still held the magnificent jet-black of a mage.

“You’ve been sent here by those ingrates in Taj Kingdom, haven’t you?! I’ll turn you to cinders with my flames!”

“There is no mage from Taj here,” Klinack placated the old man in a gentle tone.

“Preposterous! The winds are murmuring to me! They affirm their Compeer is present!”

Unen studied the elderly man’s face. The wind is murmuring to him? This person hears the Murmurs too?

“They’re telling me that—HM, whazzat? …your old, old friend, is it? OH! I see, I see! The one from then! The old, old one who became your shield and—”

“Turek,” Klinack called.

Fulfilling the unspoken command, Turek went to stand before the old man, and while supporting his shoulder as if he were caring for someone ill, slowly assisted him out the doors.

“Ooh, Turek, my boy!” the old man chattered away, “Is it already time for the evening meal? What should I help with today?”

The doors shut behind them.

Klinack dropped his shoulders once the old man’s voice had disappeared beyond the closed doors. “Sorry about that. He’s a mage who has served our castle and royal family for several generations. I assume you’ve heard the name Crimson Genga before? He was the man known as the savior of our Cerná’s military force during the war seventy years ago between our kingdom and the neighboring eastern kingdom of Taj, but to our great regret, he’s become less capable of holding conversations as he’s passed a hundred years of age…”

Unen’s group stirred at the unbelievable age.

“Are his spells not going berserk?” Mouru asked frankly, without an iota of hesitance. Everyone, from Unen to Ori, were taken aback by his bold behavior and gaped at Mouru in shock, but the man he had asked didn’t seem to mind at all.

“I think he’s all right in that regard. Fortunately, he seems to have forgotten every spell aside from the one that allows him to light the kitchen stove or candles. He will throw a fit, like you just witnessed, when he senses another mage, but he has never actually tried to cast a spell on them.”

Klinack stared at the doors Master Genga had been whisked away through and quietly continued, “Master Genga is a man we are greatly indebted to for saving our kingdom from peril. I want to express my gratitude by seeing him off into his retirement, but…we can’t get a new mage to stay because of him… Well, I do not mind too much since we are at peace with our neighboring countries, but it is still something to be mindful of.”

“I’m sure he stays around because this kingdom, and especially the area around Your Highness, is peaceful and easy to live in,” Mouru commented. Klinack arched a questioning eyebrow. “We mages have rather good physical strength and endurance because the gods have bestowed their blessing on us. At least, we are stronger than we were before we became mages. Yet, there aren’t many elderly mages in the world. I believe it’s due to how this power of ours drags us into problems. Master Genga’s longevity is a testament to your magnetism, Your Highness.”

“I would be very happy if that’s true.” Klinack’s indigo eyes softened.

Aide Harabal reluctantly cleared his throat beside him. “Your Majesty, will you please get on topic?”

“Good point. You all must be tired from your long journey. Why don’t we hurry and finish this?” Klinack stepped back half a step to give the center of the room over to Harabal.

“Then allow me to emulate my king and be frank with you.” Harabal pulled out a cylindrical container for official documents from where he held it under his arm. “Lady Unen, is this your creation?”

He procured a single map depicting a demesne from the container. It brought back Unen’s memories of surveying in the frigid cold of midwinter six months ago.

Mouru immediately slipped in before Unen could move to affirm it. “Before we answer, would you mind telling us how you were able to summon her to the royal capital so soon, Your Highness?”

Unen looked at Mouru in shock.

Chelveny’s attack happened eleven days ago. It had taken five days for Unen to arrive at the royal capital. Even if Sissel and Turek had ridden their horses at full gallop to Yezero, it would’ve taken them at least two to three days. Meaning, King Klinack had learned about the quarrel and decided to summon Unen to the capital in less than four days.

Klinack smiled warmly and answered, “Good question. Chelveny and Baborak went at it hard once during my father—the former king’s—time. They must’ve gotten severely reprimanded by the former king, because this time, Chelveny sent a fast horse to us the day after the disturbance.

“According to his messenger, he’d had no intention of upsetting the kingdom’s peace. The incident was the fault of his vassals, who had gotten ahead of themselves without permission. But no one would feel pleased to have someone peer intrusively into their yard with the eyes of a bird, so Baborak is at fault too. In short, he gave a list of excuses and this map over to me.”

Klinack reached for the map and looked it over intently, as if he were scanning every detail of it.

“I can see why. This is truly detailed and elaborate. But we can’t tell whether this is simply a drawing or an accurate map. That is why we have summoned the mapmaker to hear her explanation of how she went about making it in detail.” He turned a sharp gaze on Unen.

It pierced straight through her. Suddenly, Unen knew precisely why the king and his men had summoned her without a moment’s delay the second they had gotten their hands on her map. Hadn’t Ori mentioned why when they had first met?

“Some have a map commissioned in order to make the land theirs.”

Possessing an accurate map of another country would grant them intimate knowledge of their geography and topography, thus allowing them to strategize where to attack from and how to defend themselves all from the comfort of their castles. Presently, the neighboring countries were at peace, but the king had to be more than aware of the map’s value.

“Knowledge is power. And great, unnecessary power draws equally great disaster to it.”

The words Ori had once said to her echoed in her ears.

The shrewd, calculating man in power quietly asked again, “Are you the one who made this map?”

“I am.” Unen dragged out each sound.

“Then, will you teach us how you did it?” Harabal leaned forward, his expression earnest.

Unen prepared for the worst and said, “It’s a trade secret.” Her voice reverberated off the still room’s walls.

“I like her!” Klinacks averred, his brows rising as he clapped his hands together once. “Indeed, no good businessman would want to carelessly share trade secrets, creating more business rivals!”

“Your Majesty, this is no laughing matter. How can we discern the authenticity of this map—nay, of this mapmaker’s ability then?”

Unen frowned at Harabal’s insinuation. She wanted freedom from their ulterior motives, but it wouldn’t do to have the quality of her maps doubted.

“Then let me give you a brief explanation,” she acquiesced, then sped through an explanation, “I measured the distance and azimuth from each point on the map.”

If knowing that was all they needed to understand how to make maps, there’d be no reason for her to hold her tongue in the first place. Otherwise, her secret would be kept if they couldn’t figure it out.

It was easy to see the flames of curiosity burning in Harabal’s eyes. “You would fail to record undulations in the ground that way.”

“I measure the horizontal angles and find it through the fineness ratio.”

Unen and Harabal defiantly stared at each other in silence.

“Uhh, can I say something?” Lord Vrba interjected, raising his slender right hand. He had quietly listened to the entire conversation thus far. “If you plan to discuss this at length, I think it would be best to let them rest for the day and continue tomorrow. I don’t think it’s wise to pile questions on right after you’ve summoned her from so far away without giving her a moment of rest.”

Klinack made a wry smile at the plainly ruffled Harabal, who’d just had cold water poured onto his interrogation. “Almost sounds like we’re the bad guys when he puts it like that.”

Harabal sighed loudly. “…He speaks the truth. Lady Unen, my heartfelt apologies, but I request your presence for more questions tomorrow.”

“Ah, all right.”

Unen felt the weight lift off her chest for the time being. Debating whether to thank him, she looked to Vrba. He smiled, as if wordlessly reassuring her. The image of his soft, sky-blue eyes overlapped with a memory of another pair of similar eyes, and Unen caught her breath at the nostalgia.

　

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HIS hay-colored hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. The creases in his brow never softened, and his fatigue had permanently stained the area around his eyes black. But his fierce blue eyes had shone as brilliantly as augite from the dark shadows of his eyelids. He had been burning with a painful sense of duty that he had to save as many lives as physically possible.

A sudden major earthquake had ravaged the region around Yezero, and the town had been its epicenter.

“I’ve decided not to run away any longer,” Hereh had declared to himself.

He treated the injured alongside Milosh without sleep or rest.

“Milosh, how’s his pulse?” Hereh asked in the midst of surgery, without stopping his hands for a second. His voice came out muffled through the cloth covering his mouth, but the nervousness in his voice was like a taut string.

Zola wiped away the beads of sweat trickling into his eyes with a towel.

“It’s recovered somewhat, I’d say,” Milosh answered.

“His breathing?”

“Regular.”

Placing the tool on top of the metal tray with a clink, Hereh sighed. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but it’s safe to say we got over the biggest mountain. We might be able to save him if his condition remains stable until morning.”

Zola sunk to the ground before Hereh finished speaking. She called out Simon’s name through the flood of tears streaming down her face.

Joyous cheers erupted from the line of people waiting for their turn to be treated behind Unen, who was standing in the doorway attentively watching over the surgery.

Hereh’s medicine must have been very effective, because Simon continued to sleep peacefully.

Watching Milosh take his son’s pulse while he quietly shed tears, Unen thought, Milosh and Zola both truly care for and love Simon. What would Mom have done if I were in Simon’s position? Seriously pondering the question, all she could come up with was, she probably would’ve decided she had no need for a disabled daughter and would let me die in front of her.

“Unen, it’s your turn next. You must be in so much pain. Thank you for bearing it so patiently.” Hereh came over to Unen and smiled at her. His augite blue eyes were so kind, she almost cried.

Ahhh, if only he were my real father.

 

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