Chapter 12: Feelings for a Friend

 

 

 

Chapter 12: Feelings for a Friend

 

SISSEL led Unen and the others across the gangway bridge connecting the castle’s main residence to a snug and cozy annex tower. Ori and Mouru were assigned the guest room near the stairs on the second floor, while Unen and Irena were given a room on the third floor. They could relax at long last.

Their party of four ate dinner alone in the manor hall of the second floor. Apparently, Vrba had given King Klinack the idea by insisting not to “burden them with having to interact with a bunch of unfamiliar faces before they even have the chance to recover from their long journey.”

“His Majesty said he would love for you to join him tomorrow, for dinner in the main building’s grand dining hall. I look forward to sharing a meal with you all once more,” Sissel said, smiling broadly as he swung his gaze across each of them.

Unen had reached her limit. “Excuse me, why am I being treated so kindly?” Her voice steadily fell to a whisper. “I’m merely a commoner with no social status or rank.”

The corners around Sissel’s eyes softened. “Because you are His Majesty’s guest, Lady Unen.”

While that was true, His Majesty was the King—the lord and master who governed over the entire kingdom. Couldn’t he have forcefully summoned such a simple, rural commoner without taking the trouble of inviting her as a special guest?

As if reading the doubts in her heart, Sissel smiled generously with all the experienced composure of the king’s close attendant. “Additionally, Master Harabal is always saying that knowledge is yet another form of impressive fortune. His Majesty believes respect should be paid to those with great knowledge in the same way it is paid to those with rank, land, and assets.”

Unen’s heart thudded loudly in her chest. She felt heat rising in her body, flushing her cheeks.

Unfortunately for her, Mouru’s nonchalant voice mercilessly cut in to rain on her good cheer. “Let me guess, joining our dinner tomorrow will be that man with reddish hair from the king’s office who said he uh…‘came to play’? What’s his name again…?”

Sissel hesitantly offered, “Lord Vrba?”

“Yup, that’s the one. Will Lord Vrba be having dinner with us as well?”

“Yes,” Sissel affirmed, then grinned. “He may say he’s here to play, but he actually came for a different reason. One of the kingdom’s gold mines is located in the Schaehor Province under Vrba’s control. He came to deliver the annual report to His Majesty.”

Fully regaining her calm, Unen quietly exhaled and shifted her focus to the conversation. So that’s how they know that Vrba is just acting like he’s frivolous and thoughtless, she concluded internally.

“All right, I will return later to remove your dishes once you have finished eating. Remember, we will be having dinner together tomorrow,” Sissel reminded them once more, before disappearing out the door with the other servants and an empty pot in hand.

***

IRENA exited the annex tower veiled in the darkness of night carrying her sword. She had immediately asked Sissel about whether there was any space available for sword training when he escorted her to her room that evening, but it had taken until they were finished with dinner and about to sleep before he finally answered, “Feel free to use the courtyard.”

Practicing landing hits in total darkness is useless. But I’ll at least get in some practice swings. Irena resigned herself to a less satisfactory training session as she walked across the gangway bridge. What she saw when she turned the corner, however, made her doubt her eyes. There were ten iron baskets with fires burning inside, providing light by encircling the courtyard where Ori was practicing agile swings with the empty air as his opponent.

Ori’s sword style was slightly different from the style Irena had practiced since childhood. Naturally, the foundational moves such as thrust, cut, feint, circle parry and so on had the same base form, but Ori took a rather creative approach to them. Irena had no doubt that her father’s eyelids would snap back, eye whites bulging, and his nostrils would flare the moment he witnessed the heresy of his moves. Ori’s swordplay during the clash with Chelveny had been the definition of phantasmagoric.

Irena focused every fiber in her being on Ori’s movement. Analyzing the rhythm of his footwork, her eyes followed his sword. She imagined moving like him in her mind while searching for openings in his defense.

Irena’s feet kicked off the ground faster than any conscious thought. She launched a lunge quicker than his right leg stepped forward and attacked.

At the brink of a sword clash, they both masterfully stopped their swords a centimeter apart.

Ori’s upper lip curled, his eyes challenging her. “Nice move.”

“I might not look like it, but I am the daughter of the Vigilante Corps’ leader.”

Ori was already used to hearing her say that, but he cocked his eyebrow as if he had gleaned some new information from it this time. “That means you aren’t a member of the Vigilante Corps yourself, then.”

Irena could only return a strained smile. “It’s one of those, ‘It’s no place for a woman’ things.” She sighed heavily, releasing all the air in her lungs. Then she looked up at Ori. “So I was kind of happy when you mistook me for Unen back when we first met in the saloon. Obviously, you’d have to take age into account in your search for Sparrow Eyes, but I was surprised that you didn’t judge us based on gender.”

“You must’ve been real happy; so much that you would beautifully sweep my feet out from underneath me.”

Irena dramatically put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. “This and that are different issues. I have to protect Unen from shady outsiders.”

They heard a third pair of feet walk into the courtyard grounds.

“Why are you so concerned with that girl anyway?” Mouru chimed in, joining them by the swaying fires. The orange lights casting a glow onto his cheeks were powerless against the darkness of his Mage’s Black hair. “I find it strange. You’re so overprotective and you aren’t even relatives.”

Irena’s brows pulled together in a disgusted scowl. “It has nothing to do with you.”

But Mouru remained unfazed by her cutting remark. Thoughtfully rubbing the bottom of his chin, he mused, “Rather than overprotective, maybe it’s better to say it feels like you’re guarding some sort of small animal you happened to picked up…? Ah, or is it one of those cases where you want her around to make you look better—”

“If you say any more,” Irena spat, “I’ll chop you up with this sword and feed you to the pigs.” She gripped her right hand tightly with her left to stop herself as she shook with rage.

“Mouru,” Ori warned, exasperation in his voice. “Think of a different way to phrase things if you actually want her to answer your question.”

Confused by what Ori was insinuating, Irena took a good look at Mouru’s face.

Fire blazed in his eyes, reflecting the cressets’ light. Like the eyes of a hunter waiting patiently for his prey to be caught in the perfect trap. Mouru was purposely agitating her to get the information he wanted.

Irena felt hopelessly stupid for taking him seriously. Letting out a deep, deep sigh, she gave up and opened her mouth to speak because she wouldn’t get anywhere with her training otherwise. “Simon—”

“Who?” Mouru interrupted right off the bat.

Ori groaned and offered a short explanation. “The son of the doctor Unen lives with. The blond boy.”

“Ahh, him.”

Does Mouru have a hard time remembering people’s names? Maybe he has no desire to even try. He’s a man who’s audacious in all respects. Irena’s shoulders slumped. Anyway, I need to hurry and shut this guy up so I can get back to training. Pulling herself together, Irena lifted her head.

“He lost his right leg in the earthquake three years ago.”

Memories of the incident rushed through her mind in a flash. Simon, rescued by five people from under the debris and rubble of a collapsed building. Fresh blood pouring from him without stopping. Screams and shrieks ringing out. And just when everyone present is preparing themselves for Simon’s death, an unfamiliar man picks him up. His long, hay-colored braided hair swings as he stands up with Simon in his arms, paying no mind to the blood dirtying his clothes. The heroic determination brimming in his eyes as he utters three words, “I’ll save him.”

“Simon was a popular guy with no end in the number of women who wanted to marry him because he was smart, handsome, and had great future prospects. All of that came to an abrupt end with the earthquake.”

Irena gestured meaninglessly with her hands to shake away the memories of the past as she went on, “It was the same as sentencing Simon, who had always been popular, as a man of no use just because he didn’t have his right leg. He was thrown completely into despair and acted with self-abandonment for a time after that. I didn’t know how to comfort him either. But you know what Unen said? ‘It’s not like your value as a person was in the leg you lost, Simon. Forget those people who only loved your leg and think about the people who love you for all of you.’”

Mouru quietly raised an entertained eyebrow at the story. Irena surprisingly found herself having fun reminiscing about it too.

“And Simon’s face, when he heard her say that, I just…”

“You just what?”

“Eh? Ah, nah, um, well?”

Irena just barely realized that the rest of what she had to say, no matter how she said it, would be her fawning over him. She distracted herself from the heat rushing to her cheeks with a cough and glared at Mouru.

“A-Anyway, Unen became a very, very, very important person to us ever since. Got it?”

“I got it. You’ve more than convinced me.”

Irena felt even more embarrassed because Mouru had agreed with a dead serious face.

***

RELIVING the taste of the shepherd’s pie made with an abundance of salted meat that was served for dinner, Unen exited the tower. She was a little worried—or rather lonely—because Irena hadn’t returned for quite a while since she left to train.

On her way across the gangway bridge, she happened to spot Irena and the other two illuminated by the cressets’ fire, beyond the shrubbery.

I get why the two swordsmen would be together, but why is Mouru present for their sword practice? The wind carried other voices, from the main residence, to where Unen was standing, scrunching her brow.

Curious, Unen stopped at the bend to carefully peer around it. King Klinack and Aide Harabal were standing right beside the entrance to the main residence, staring down at the courtyard.

“Training without being commanded to do so. Some dependable youths we have visiting our castle,” Klinack said sincerely, in a tone containing neither sarcasm nor flattery. “Our kingdom’s future is secure as long as we continue to have young people like them.”

“Indeed.”

Unen smiled widely to herself from the shadows of the gangway bridge’s pillars. Glancing back at the courtyard (and ignoring Mouru crouching in the corner), Irena and Ori were diligently fighting a mock battle with each other.

“By the way, Harabal, it looked like you were in a deep discussion with that mage over something.”

Surprised by what she heard them say next, Unen looked away from her friends’ battle and back to the king and his aide.

“He asked if we are going to war.”

“Unthinkable!”

“Yes, I relayed the same thing to him.” Harabal’s tone was flatter than a slab of ice. “Just goes to prove how consequential a precise map is,” he stated matter-of-factly.

The king made a big sigh. “So you say. But to be frank, I don’t believe it’s as critical as you make it out to be. Say we go to war with a neighboring kingdom; we can always just gather the necessary information even without possessing such an accurate map. No?”

“I believe if we asked our ancestors about the necessity of the alphabet before the invention of written language, they would’ve given an answer similar to what you just said, Your Majesty.”

“Geh.”

Clearly, Harabal had rendered Klinack speechless.

“The girl’s knowledge is the real thing. It will be dangerous to leave her to her own devices any longer.”

Not wanting to hear any more of what Harabal had to say, Unen quietly turned on her heel. Careful not to make any noise, she returned to the tower that housed their assigned rooms. On the gangway bridge, Unen bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was sick of hearing others suggest her skills were unsuitable for a tiny little girl.

Knowledge was wings. It gave one the power to look at the world from a height that rivaled the Falcon Eyes of the mystic in Yezero. It was a power even the poor, weak, and insubstantial human being like Unen could possess.

Balling her hands into tight fists, Unen looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky. I’ll fly higher and farther, and someday transcribe the entire world with these hands. I’m sure when I do—

“The world will open up before you.”

A nostalgic voice echoed in her head.