Chapter 35

Turmoils

“She was bright – so bright that her golden shine dimmed the sun. There was never another like her, I’m certain. Why couldn’t have I just spoken what was in my heart?”

My Dawn, Vol. VIII

While the Brightfort may have failed to live up to its name during the nighttime, that certainly wasn’t the case as the day unfolded. Noah stood leaning against the window of his room in the inn, observing the world outside with the clean, yet slightly hazy eyes. The fort had awoken, thousands of footsteps marching like soldiers across the paved concrete, beating the stone with their feet. The sun cradled over the tall walls and washed over the flat roofs, painting a golden haze across the scenery. What’s more, he noted, were the strange, luminous colors spraying out in cones that provided warm overlay to the drab gray of the buildings’ stoned walls.

The reality was hard to pin down, as his eyes seemed to battle repeatedly with distinguishing between what was there, and what was merely the trick of the light. It shone, the whole fort, as wide and as majestic as it may be; the splendor of colors was muted, yet still very evident, drawing everyone in. He postulated they might have used mirrors to achieve the effect, but the likelier scenario was that they used Light in some form he couldn't possibly understand. Either way, however, the results were breathtaking, even for him. His illusion that this was merely a medieval-like world had already shattered with Elucido, but even the remaining shards of doubt were now squashed underneath the dazed string of the light show unfolding before his eyes.

He couldn't help but let himself go for a moment, pull down the guard that has become his walled tomb, drown himself in the sensation of the moment. The faint and distant sounds of shouting, of the wheels belting the stone, of horses neighing, of merchants selling, of children laughing, of soldiers grunting… the sight of the golden shining like the crown upon the royal head, the drab-looking minnow-seeming city transforming into a palace of dreams, washed in the colors of the painter's brush and imagination. He felt at ease, perhaps for the first time in years, if not decades. His heart beat harshly, pumping warmed blood into him, his entire body tremoring quaintly, in tune with nature.

Though beautiful, the sensation was short-lived as he pulled back. He couldn't afford to enjoy it, to lose himself in it. Why did he fight? The answer was, as always, hazy. He had never given it much thought – for him, it was just a matter of fact that one was supposed to fight. Even here, in the unknown land, surrounded by mysteries from all sides, at a complete disadvantage, he had chosen to fight. A part of him believed it fruitless, the cynical, skeptical one that firmly knew it was impossible to ever go back to Earth, to ever even learn what had happened, what had gone awry. But he didn't let it win, sizzling it into a timid whisper, burying it.

He stretched and yawned lazily, walking over the small bucket in the corner and washing his face before dressing up. Today would be busy, he knew, as he had to set many plans into motion. He didn’t have much time, and he didn’t want to overstay here for too long as gaining ground in Elucido was far more important. Rather, coming here was an unnecessary risk, as he was certain he could have manipulated Quickett to serve him, or at least found someone else. However, exploring a bit wouldn’t do him much harm, especially as it would broaden his suffocating, narrow horizons.

Sash and Myrell were waiting for him outside the inn, dressed in clean clothes, though their wounds were still apparent on the exposed parts. The inn's bottom floor played both the role of reception as well as the tavern and even this early in the morning there were quite a few people dining and drinking, though Noah ignored it all.

“… have you two eaten?” he asked as the two began following him, not knowing the direction.

“Yes, Master,” Sash replied. “Bread was handed out in the Slave’s Quarters just before the dawn.”

"… we'll find a place to have lunch in later," Noah said. "Endure until then."

“You haven’t eaten yet, Master?” Myrell asked.

“… it’s fine,” Noah replied, wondering just how many times in his life had he skipped breakfast. “There are more pressing issues.”

“… yes.”

The two continued to follow him in silence as he crossed the wide and the narrow streets, avoiding the large crowds along the way. After the brief, embarrassing stint last night, he’d spent a great deal of the time he should have been using to sleep in studying the fort’s map, as to never get lost again. He was currently headed for the central administrative building of the fort to lodge the complaint and retrieve parts of his goods. However, he wouldn’t be entering directly; there would be no point in teaching Myrell and Sash all the way over on the ship if he would be the one doing everything in the end.

“I’m taking you to the administrative building,” he turned to Myrell and said. “You two will retrieve our goods.”

“E-eh?! M-Master—”

“Stop panicking,” he interrupted her harshly, with a deep frown. “Have I taught you nothing during our journey?”

“…”

“I’ve already prepared my papers,” he said, handing her a sealed parchment, startling her. “As to prevent any issues, I’ve also added a royal seal. However, under no circumstances are you to disclose who it belongs to – do you hear me?”

“—y-yes, Master…” Myrell accepted the parchment with shaky hands, quickly stuffing it away into her breast-pocket, looking around anxiously.

“You are ready for this, you both are,” he said. “However, I also don’t want you to escalate the issue just yet. They will give you fewer goods than we had, but don't say anything about it. Let them have their pickings for now. Don't simply take the beating, however; press the issue that the guards who harassed you should be investigated, and punished if found. If they start treating you terribly, threaten to take it up directly with the local Noble Court – and find a way to drop that the man you’re representing has direct access to it.”

“…” Myrell nodded, taking a deep breath and calming herself down. Everything until now was because of today – all the harsh training, all the things she had to learn so quickly… it was so she could play this role for her Master. This was no time to become afraid.

“And, Sash, you remain silent all the while,” Noah said, glancing at the fidgety black man who seemed extremely uncomfortable. “Simply stare daggers at them and look like you’re about to become a mad dog if they take it too far. I know it can be terrifying, but there’s no reason to look at it that way. Playing the roles is the easiest way to fool the world; over half of the victory is decided by which party plays their role better.”

“… is… is that how you became Princess’ Dacent…” Sash mumbled unconsciously, immediately regretting his words as the blood in his veins froze.

“… partly,” Noah smiled faintly, glancing at him. “But I don’t think that’s something you ought to be saying out loud, Sash. It might get misinterpreted easily…”

“Y-yes, o-of course, Master… foolish me…”

“As long as you understand…” Crap, I was sure he was goin’ to kill me right there, Sash shuddered as Myrell paid him a glance, looking at him like he was the world’s greatest fool. I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut…

**

Claire was absentmindedly staring toward the hazy horizon, her eyelashes fluttering gently, hiding the torn look inside her eyes. A spread of exotic fruits lined on the table next to her hardly drew her attention, her mind a storm. She’d often fail to fall asleep at night, drowning in the distant memories, but the last night was especially difficult; she tossed and turned, imagining a thousand scenarios that might play out if she were to reach out, and a thousand more if she were to not.

That face and that smile and that voice lingered, those words like spears of hope, piercing her heart. Yet, the demonic voices from within fought back, denying, screeching, hissing. In the midst of the raging war, she felt helpless, like a little lamb, waiting for the butcher to decide its fate. Would it be served amidst the fascinating spread, or would it live to die some other day?

“My Lady—”

It was difficult to reconcile it. She thought the story was buried beneath the layers of stone, never to be known by another soul. Yet, it was out there, known and spoken. How did he know? How did he find out the House’s hardest kept secret? Who was he? He wasn’t just an ordinary merchant, indulging selfish travel across the lands. He was someone, something. An apparition, perhaps. If her aids hadn’t confirmed she had spoken with someone, she would have sworn he was a phantom sent by the Dark Serpents to haunt her, to remind her of what she had done.

“My Lady…”

“E-eh?” she strung and looked to the side where a young man draped in black, butler’s clothing was looking at her with a helpless expression. Lyon, she remembered. A hopeful, energetic lad that was assigned to her a year ago. He was like a bird, fretting relentlessly around her, never leaving her side. Short, brown hair encapsulated a youthful, fresh face. In a few years, she mused, he would turn into a handsome young man, no doubt hounded by the mansion’s maids.

"… I've been calling you for five minutes, my Lady. Is everything alright?" he asked with a worried expression, setting down a cup of tea and pouring it fully.

“… yes, forgive me,” she replied, forcing a smile. “I am a bit tired.”

“… again?” he asked.

“… again.”

“… would you like me to invite a Physician?”

“No, it is fine,” she shook her head, taking a sip of tea. He always knew which kind to brew – flustered-mint, cold and biting, revitalizing, like a downpour after a season of drought. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he pouted. “It is my job to worry about you, my Lady. Has your trip been worry-free?”

“Ah, yes,” she nodded, staring at the rippling tea in the cup. “I have found a few pieces of clay with strange properties, and a few glassed dolls.”

“… perhaps I should call a Physician after all,” the young butler sighed. “You seem especially dispirited today.”

“… have you ever fallen in love, Lyon?” she asked him suddenly, causing the young man to blush in full crimson, stuttering a reply.

“W-w-hat a-are… no… o-o-of course not, my Lady…” he lowered his head and began fidgeting, causing her to smile faintly.

“You should tell me about her one day,” she chuckled. “When you do fall in love, I mean.”

“… that’s mean, my Lady…” he spoke under his breath as she reached out and ruffled his hair, causing his body to stiffen up.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Looks like I’ve inherited my mother’s vile nature after all…”

“… no, I mean—”

“Ha ha ha, don’t worry, don’t worry,” she laughed freely for a moment as she walked back inside, feeling somewhat better. “Let’s go and see whether we can fetch something strange at the Bazaar, what do you say?”

"… yes, my Lady." The young butler recovered with a fading sigh and a glance at the tidal silhouette in front of him. Just like any other day, he mused, she just might be the strangest thing there once again…