Chapter 6

The State of Life

“I ponder... does the World outside our corner use the Light -- or something far Greater?”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. I

Sounds of the clanking silverware filled the otherwise silent dining hall lit up by the gorgeous chandeliers hanging far overhead and the arched windows lined up on the sides. Spiraling pillars of stone upheld the domed ceiling, extending in a circular pattern, surrounding a slight dent in the floor where a round table was situated, surrounded by eight chairs, two much larger and decorated far more than the rest.

Each was currently occupied, the people seated eating with their heads lowered, not talking. Among them was Olivia, sitting in the center seat of the left side, sporting similar countenance; every morning was the same, dull routine, at least to her, and this was simply the part of it. Her Father insisted on it, that the entire family gathers first thing in the morning for the breakfast, and for the dinner later at night, despite the fact that anyone rarely spoke out.

As far as she knew, all of her brothers and sisters were impatient to start a new day, going about their business, while Olivia herself also felt that same recklessness this morning as a far more interesting prospect besides dining with her family awaited – the Outlander. However, she steeled her nerves and appeared no different than any other morning.

The rest of her siblings, however, had long since stopped bothering with the pretenses, gorging on the food as quickly as they could before getting up, bowing toward the two people occupying the opposite ends of the round table, sitting on top of the decorated chairs, before bolting off. This morning was no different; within fifteen minutes, Olivia found herself alone with her Mother and Father.

The former was a beautiful woman, at least in her eyes, though the signs of age had long since imposed themselves on her appearance. Moria O'vorell, the revered Queen of Lumina, was in her seventies, gray-haired and blue-eyed that, the ilk of eyes that had lost almost all their shine due to the waning of time. Though she still wore her regal dresses and the bejeweled crown, neither managed to hide her tired countenance.

Her Father, Jovyer O’vorell, sported similarly aged appearance, though one could still sense the brimming fire in his behavior; similarly gray-haired, he was the one that gave Olivia her amber-colored eyes, a uniqueness among her siblings, and despite the wrinkled, old face and thick, bushy beard, it looked as though he was ready to march into a battle at any given moment, despite being seventy-seven, four years older than her mother.

“How is the food, Olivia?” he asked her all of a sudden, breaking the lengthy silence, surprising her. She recovered quickly however and smiled at him.

“Wonderful, as always, Father.” she replied.

“Really?” Jovyer grinned faintly. “If your brothers and sisters are anything to go by, you would think we were eating rotten bread.”

“… pfft, ha ha ha, you’re terrible, Father…”

“Ah, would you hear that, Moria; our daughter thinks I am terrible.”

“I have taught her well, then,” Moria smiled as well, chewing silently on the piece of jammed bread. “If she can see it.”

“Aah, it must be so then,” Jovyer chuckled lightly, taking a sip of morning wine. “If my two angels agree on it. Your birthday is soon, Olivia. Is there anything you want?”

“—ah, no, don’t worry about it, Father,” Olivia said, shaking her head; it was almost considered heresy for a King and a Queen to gift to anyone anything, even their own children, no matter the occasion. “I have more than I will ever need.”

“There is no need to be shy,” Moria chimed in from the side. “Your brothers and sisters are asking for this and that all the time; did you know that Maria asked your Father to grant her the escort to Pilvon as she heard rumors there was an especially handsome Prince residing there?”

“… she did?” Olivia asked, surprised. Though she knew Maria was… a bit too infatuated with boys, especially considering she had breached her thirties this year, she always suspected her older sister had a limit to it.

“I honestly would not even mind it,” Jovyer said, sighing. “If it meant she would finally settle down and marry. But, even if there is a Prince, she will find something wrong with him.”

“That one is on you, Jovyer,” Moria said. “You spoiled her rotten, always telling her she deserves the best man in the world. Off that bird-brained child went, searching for something that does not exist.”

“If I am not mistaken, did your Mother not just imply I am not perfect?” Jovyer turned toward Olivia, grinning faintly. One shock after another followed this morning, as her parents were acting rather strange; though she hardly knew how they were toward one another in the privacy of their room, in front of others, including their children, they put up a firm and regal façade that never broke down.

“You certainly are not,” Moria said, also seemingly enjoying seeing the wiggling Olivia. “Twice, this week alone, I have seen you stare at the maid’s buttocks.”

"What of it? You stared at least thrice." Jovyer replied.

“It really is spectacular,” Moria nodded, sighing, shaking her head. “I tried spying on her to see what she eats, but I have not learned anything.”

“…” by now, Olivia had grown entirely mute. Did… did… did they just talk about some maid’s butt… in front of me?

“… Olivia,” Jovyer’s voice dragged her back from her daydreaming, pulling her attention back to his amber-dyed eyes. “As you can see, both your Mother and I are growing fantastically old as of recently.”

"And by that, he means as of recent few decades."

“Hush, woman,” Jovyer grumbled for a moment. “My Father let go of the Crown on his eightieth year, and I plan to do the same.”

“!!!”

"You must be wondering why we are telling you this," Moria said from the side, noting Olivia's shock. "But the answer is hardly noteworthy; among all your sisters and brothers, you are the lone wolf lacking in ambitions for the crown. Your Eldest and Second Eldest Brothers have already begun consolidating their Armies, preparing for the War of the Crown, and others are not lacking far behind. Even Maria, in her obsession with the boys, seems to be on a lookout for someone who could help her win the Crown."

"The reason we are telling you this," Jovyer said. "Is that we want to ensure you really have no ambition and that you are not participating due to one or another fear."

“—I… I really have no ambition, Father, Mother,” Olivia came to a few moments later, quickly replying. “I am sorry if that disappoints you.”

"Hardly," Moria chuckled, reaching over and grabbing her hand gently, smiling. For a moment, Olivia could almost see the time roll back as the image of her Mother shifted back to her youthful days, to the beauty she once was. "We just wanted to make sure you were alright."

“I am,” Olivia replied, smiling back. “I just hope they won’t kick me out right after.”

“Ha ha ha,” Jovyer and Moria laughed, Olivia joining right after. “I think you will be safe in that department,” Jovyer added. “Go on, now. I am sure you have better things to do than chat with these old bones.”

“Father, Mother,” Olivia got up, bowing toward each gracefully. “It was lovely talking with you.”

On her way to the Dacent’s chambers, Olivia thought about the breakfast that hit her from the blindside; it seems as though her lukewarm position has afforded her a rather unique presence in her parents’ hearts. Three years… huh? It would be a lie to claim she never had any aspirations for the Crown, but being the youngest of the six siblings, by the time she was born, the Eldest brother already had an army of his own. She learned early to let go of the grand aspirations and threw her focus elsewhere – the world itself. She wanted to explore it as much as possible, shed some light on the dark lands and waters outside the Peninsula.

Thinking to here, her mind once again drifted to the Outlander lying just in front of the doors she stopped by. Taking a deep breath, she slowly and carefully opened them, though they still creaked; luckily, he was once again awake, this time standing. However, she stopped immediately upon entering, frozen, as the man only had the pants on, his torso exposed. Glancing back at her, he smiled faintly and nodded, seemingly entirely unbothered by his state.

Coughing lowly, she drew her eyes away from him and entered slowly, stealing glances at the shadow-encased body of his in-between trying to look away. It was not as though she had never seen a man's torso exposed – after all, if one were to walk by any of the numerous Training Grounds in the city, one could see a plethora of them, but none seemed quite as robust as the one in front of her. Besides, the circumstances themselves were entirely different; she was alone, inside a dark room, rather than standing beneath the sun in the open. An odd sensation swelled within her, grappling with her sanity.

**

Noah had easily spotted the changes in Olivia's expression – the faintly trembling lips and the blushing cheeks, the dancing eyes looking away and toward, the awkward steps… he was slightly surprised, all things considered, as she seemed to be too old to still suffer the awkwardness on such level. Nonetheless, he slowly put on the shirt as he had no intention of seducing her since it would only complicate his goals further.

“Olivia.” he greeted her again with a nod.

“Noah.” she replied, smiling lightly, her amber-colored eyes turning crescent.

"… wine?" since yesterday, he'd been working on establishing some baseline of the language. The syntax was eerily similar to English, namely in the structure – all the way down to the expression of articles, phrasal structures, and constituency. As far as he could tell, even the predication worked similarly, which, in extension, meant that subject-verb-object relations would also mimic those found in English.

“Wine? Ah… sorry… never… like…” he managed to pick up a few words and decipher them, though couldn’t yet figure out the meaning. “Books—” she said all of a sudden, pulling out several, leather-bound tomes from her back and putting them on the table, pointing at them with a smile.

Noah slowly picked up the book on top, a rather hefty-looking beast of at least half a thousand pages, sitting down onto the bed and opening it up. His brows quickly scrounged up into a frown; while the phonetics may mimic those of English, the script itself certainly looked nothing like it. It was more reminiscent of a runic script and was even closer to modern Korean and Japanese rather than the Western, Latin-oriented script.

After flipping a few pages, he stopped on the one that showcased a few painted objects, ordinary ones like tables, chairs, houses, flowers and so on, with dashes indicating the designated word. It seemed like a dictionary designed for children, piquing his interest quickly, even beyond the language itself. After all, any nation that can afford to provide fundamental education directly designed for children can hardly be called primitive.

“Words?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Yes.” she nodded. “Words—uh, pictures… room…time…” she picked one of the books on the bottom, a rather thin one, and opened the central spread. Noah’s eyes lit up slightly as he realized what it was – a map. “A map.”

“Map?” he confirmed.

“Yes, map.” Olivia’s eyes lit up as well for some reason as she nodded.

He took the map from her and traced his fingers over the surface. The inking was crude, lines wobbly in a few parts, and a great deal of it was left blank.

"Us?" he asked, glancing at her. She extended her index finger excitedly and pointed to a small city situated beside a lake, connected to the river that ran down the southern ends, beyond which lied a wide mountain ring. Seemingly empty plains extended to the north, with the east dominated by the forest he left, further extending into another plain.

He studied the map in detail for a moment, gently tapping his fingers against the surface. The map seemed to indicate three different boundaries, which he interpreted as there being three Kingdoms, or the likes, present here. It was a mid-sized peninsula by the looks of it, surrounded on all but the western side by the ocean. One of the blank parts was exactly the westbound point, though he couldn’t quite interpret what it meant just yet.

**

Olivia remained silent as the Outlander, Noah, continued to observe the map. To her joy, he seemed quite interested in it and, what’s perhaps more important, he didn’t need her help at all to read it. She grew incredibly impatient, though she knew she had no right to be; she wanted him to know the language immediately, so she could share her ideas – that would undoubtedly be mocked by everyone if they heard them – with him. She didn’t know why, but she felt he wouldn’t fall into that group – that he wouldn’t mock her. Somehow, for reasons she couldn’t explain, he seemed… bigger than that. Much, much, much bigger.