Xern, Sir of Marla: 28 Xiven

Life in the Castle of Yatora settled into numb monotony fairly quickly. Frustrating mornings with Sepik and a history lesson soon transitioned into boring mornings, thankfully Sepik-free, revolving learning how to read and write.

“So you can learn new languages,” Tidesa explained when the lessons first began, just a couple weeks later.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“There’s nothing wrong with this one. But when you’re older and need to talk to other nations, they don’t speak our language.” Tidesa pointed to the paper and charcoal in front of him, indicating for him to continue copying the letters and numbers from the book beside them.

Kayin scrunched his face. “Why not?” Asking questions seemed to get him out of having to do any work. And, if he was honest with himself, he was a little curious. Why have multiple languages? Wouldn’t one just be easier?

“They have their own. In the north, they speak more Borik. Across the sea, they speak more Harpin. Do your work, Kayin.”

Kayin digested her words quietly, slowly grabbing the charcoal to buy himself time to think of another question.

“What do we speak?”

“Our language is Emprisa. It’s the language chosen by the Empress. It’s more common with larger cities like Wakino.” Her tone grew taut, and she pointed to his page yet again.

“We don’t have an Empress,” he tried to argue.

“Kayin, no more. Do your work.”

Of all the tutors and nobles around the castle, Tidesa seemed to be the only one willing to speak to him plainly. He even tried asking one of the attendants during dinner one night to speak to him like she did, and the man just raised his voice to be a little higher. Everyone held him at arm’s length, and their answers were never quite as satisfying and fulfilling as Tidesa’s—until he grasped reading, anyway. When he could figure out the letters and words in books, only then did he get full responses to his questions. It felt like people put their answers through funnels when they addressed him by any title.

One night, when Tidesa wasn’t around, Kayin sat in the study with Sepik and the usual nobles, copying from the same book as before, practicing his handwriting. But his hand was cramping and the candle wax dripped in such a hypnotic way—how could he just keep scratching symbols on a page?

He sighed heavily as he looked around the room, hoping someone would react. There were so many old people here. Old people that wouldn’t talk to him. Even the kids, though most of them were either older or much younger than him, hardly wanted to talk to him. Enna from Herbalism was fine. Tae was fine, too. But other than them, the kids avoided him like he grew moss on his face. But even Tae and Enna wouldn’t play games or make up stories with him. They’d just sit silently, staring, and agreed to whatever he said.

Scribbling on a page was no more entertaining than trying to teach Tae Catch the Arrow, only to have him purposefully lose so that Kayin would always win. What was the point of games if everything was always the same?

His sigh in the study garnered no response, so he tried again: a bigger, heftier sigh, and checked for a reaction. A man in dark green garments rested on a chaise, scribbling in a book. He glanced up at Kayin for just a moment, but darted his gaze down when he was caught.

“What are you doing, Eniso?” Kayin asked. The quiet room shifted to his question, but no one quieted him. Eniso halted his writing, placed his pen in his booklet, and closed it, offering his full attention.

“Am I in it?”

“You will be, Your Highness.”

“Is Sepik in it?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Are you in it?”

“No, Your Highness.” This made Kayin cock his head to the side.

“Why not?” Eniso shrunk under this question, as if being punished. “You’re doing all the work. Why shouldn’t you be in it?”

“I—I may have my name in the list of contributors if my work is accepted by you and Queen Sepik, Your Grace. Otherwise, we attempt to be brief and only mention the most important people.” Writers weren’t important?

“Who else is in it?”

“Your Majesty and Princess Sepik, as well as the King, and Tidesa are the biggest ones,” Eniso said, glancing at his notebook. “Others may get mentioned for their contributions. It will be up to the next generation, upon editing our entries, to determine what is important enough to be kept in the book.” Before Eniso could add some sort of florishing tag, Kayin asked, “Why’s Tidesa in it? What does she do?”

Eniso seemed surprised at the question.

“Well, Your Grace, she is responsible for ensuring our future. She advises the King at the highest capacity, including telling him that he was to choose you and Princess Sepik to be our future rulers.” Kayin hummed at this.

“Does she live here?”

This question seemed difficult to answer. “Um, I think so, Your Grace. She lives here and…somewhere else, I think.”

“Where?”

“She used to live in Wakino, Your Grace, but I don’t think that she lives exactly there anymore.” Kayin stared with wide eyes.

“Wakino? She lived in Wakino? Why?”

“Your Grace, Tidesa’s duty is to ensure the future of Yatora. She kept the peace between Yatora and Wakino for many years.” Lot of good that did!

“Is it her fault we lost the war?”

“Oh, no, Your Grace. She is why we survived so well, why we are still here. Tidesa is very important. It is a direct blessing from the Gods that she has brought Your Majesty and Princess Sepik to us.” If she was such a blessing, maybe less people would have died. Maybe he could have just stayed at home with Aunt Aayin and she could have done all this stupid, mind-numbing busywork of copying symbols from a book to a page.

But Kayin quickly garnered that such a reply wouldn’t exactly work, so he instead he said, “So Tidesa is important because she can see the future, and she uses that to help us?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“How do we know she can tell the future?” he blurted. Luckily, Eniso didn’t hear the question the same way as Kayin meant it.

“Oh, because she has white hair, Your Grace. That is how we know she is a Namuh of the Future.” That didn’t seem like a very secure way to run a kingdom…but maybe when he grew up, he could change things. Maybe. If Sepik let him.