Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 16
Courage and Cowardice - Chapter 16
“Oh now, didn’t you hear me the first time?” the figure sighed. “This is the Royal Library, and as the Librarian I must ask you to shush.”
“And so Yann bore us magnificently onwards, for he was elate with molten snow that the Poltiades had brought him from the Hills of Hap, and the Marn and Migris were swollen with floods; and he bore us in his full might past Kyph and Pir, and we saw the lights of Goolunza.”
-Idle Days on the Yann
The first thing Morien noticed about Aix was the smell, or rather, the lack thereof. The city itself was remarkably impressive, with its marble towers and golden spires reaching as high as the minarets of Timjeli. Fully enclosed by a massive wall, which was further enclosed by the impressive river that stretched as far as the eye could see, Aix was a well-fortified island city, with the only ways in or out being the bridges that connected it to the riverside roads upon which Morien and his companions now traveled. Although, as Morien peered from his spot in the wagon’s shotgun seat, he also noticed an impressive ship port built into the city’s border, where a variety of ships had docked. However, all of that paled in comparison to the mystery of the pleasant lack of odor emanating from the city.
“Say, Julia, what’s up with the smell?” Morien asked.
“What smell? No smell I smell,” Julia grunted.
“I smell it too! Or rather, uh…” Erin stammered.
Indeed, the lack of fecal fetor rather lent the city a pleasant quality, Yann thought.
“I can’t smell,” Hobie remarked.
“Ugh,” Morien sighed. “Wish Rosa was here with us. She’d probably know.”
“Yeah, but y’know, gotta keep up appearances,” Julia shrugged. “Wish they’d kept Roland locked up though.”
“What was that?” the trilling tinhorn trotted towards them tuttingly.
“Nothing,” Julia fluttered her eye-lashes innocently.
“Hmph,” Roland sniffed. “Just be sure to remember your place when we are in the presence of King Charles himself.”
“Sure, sure,” Julia said.
After passing through the city guard, the wagon and carriage made their way through the walls into the city proper. Everything seemed to be in order. Nothing seemed to be amiss. The streets were filled with city folk bustling about, doing their daily duties, and though their language and clothing may have been different from those of Timjeli or Qurtana, Morien could see the people themselves were ultimately similar. There were merchants haggling with customers, clergymen delivering sermons, and ordinary people simply eating and chatting. There seemed to be quite a lot of construction going on, but apart from that, nothing seemed amiss.
Wait, Morien thought. What were the construction workers building? His first thought would have been buildings, but these people seemed less like carpenters and more like undertakers. Rather than cutting wood and mixing plaster, these gentlemen seemed mostly concerned with digging. But what were they hoping to bury?
“Uh, hey, Roland!” Morien called out.
“What is it, Moreno?” Roland groaned.
“These builders, what are they building?” Morien was too curious to care about the naming mistake.
As Roland glanced to where Morien was gazing, a smug, superior smirk made its way to his lips, and he began to laugh.
“Ah, yes,” Roland warbled. “I suppose a sewage system must be a rather difficult concept for you to wrap your simple little head around. However, soon this marvel of Norman engineering shall sweep across the world!”
“I know what a sewage system is,” Morien said. “There’s one in Timjeli.”
“There’s one in Qurtana too,” Julia remarked.
“Yes, yes,” Roland’s nose began to twitch irritably. “But you see, the sewage systems of those primitive Mustafans are merely a series of latrines connected to collective cesspools. Whereas our glorious triumph in sewage technology involves a complex system of pipes, all of which deposit the city’s waste directly into the Aenon River, upon which we now sit, and removes our city both of its sewage and the repugnant stench so common to other cities.”
“I see,” Morien gazed in fascination at the construction workers busying about.
“That is quite a feat,” Hobie admitted.
“Yes, I know,” Roland laughed. “Soon the old ways of simply slinging waste out the window shall be a thing of the past! Ahahaha-!”
Roland’s laughter was suddenly interrupted by a pile of waste being flung out a nearby window and falling squarely on his head. His laughter was then immediately replaced with screams as the excremental smell sent him and his horse into a frenzy.
“Well, it would appear there are still many who cling to the old ways,” Hobie remarked.
“Yeah, don’t hold your breath,” Julia snickered.
“No, no, please do,” Erin laughed. “I imagine you need to right now.”
“WHO THREW THAT?” Roland seethed as he swung his sword. “Whoever did that I shall kill here on this very spot! Assaulting a noble knight? The punishment is death! Death, I say!”
“Rowland,” the driver growled warningly.
Morien and his fellow questers received a royal welcome upon their arrival at the castle of the Carolingian crown. A procession of trumpeters announced their entrance to the courtyard, and several people who looked very important to Morien stood waiting at the steps of the castle’s threshold. Glancing at the dress and positioning of each person on the steps, Morien picked out who must have been the king, the queen, Prince Louis, the regional dukes, and a surprisingly familiar face.
“Hey! Captain Cazador!” Morien cried as he noticed the Antilian captain.
“Morien?” the captain was flabbergasted. “What are you all doing here?”
“Land, Julia Ventura!” one of the dukes gasped. “I’ve not seen you in ages.”
“Oh sard!” Julia blanched at the sight of the duke. “What are you doing here, Morgan?”
“I could ask the same of you,” Morgan smirked.
“Uh, hi Joan,” Erin nervously poked her head out of the wagon.
“Erin?” Joan blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Yann poked his head out as well, just to see if anyone recognized him.
“You!” Gastronomix cried. “I remember you!”
Yann’s eyes widened before he hastily retreated back into the safety of the wagon.
“Wh-what?” Roland was mortified. “You know these peasants?”
“Peasants? Ha! Land, what a laugh,” Morgan cackled. “Julia Ventura here is persona non grata in Brittany for her crimes against the Bosshood!”
“Uh, haha, l-look Morgan, that was all so many years ago, I don’t even remember it very well, surely we could just forgive and forget, maybe even just forget, forgetting the whole thing sounds really nice to me right about now, huh?” Julia rambled.
“Indeed, Erin is a dear friend, a sister-in-arms,” Joan smiled. “It is good to see you again, Erin.”
“That spoony bard!” Gastronomix howled. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands!”
Morien felt as though someone were looking at him, and as he glanced about, the sight of the Chevalier staring suspiciously his way sent a shiver up his spine once he noticed it. Why was he looking at him like that?
“Er, as I explained a while back,” Cazador turned toward the king and queen. “These are the travelers who helped free my crew and evacuate the city of Bastilla.”
“Really?” Rosa popped her head out of the carriage. “Amazing! They saved my life as well!”
“Hey!” the royal scrivener cried. “I haven’t formally announced your arrival yet! Get back inside the carriage!”
“Is there no sense of decorum amongst you all?” Roland warbled. “We’ve descended into beastly chaos!”
“ENOUGH!” the king’s authoritative roar silenced the madding crowd. And though his yell was soon followed by a whooping cough, he still had strength enough to bring the ceremony back on track.
“Now then,” Charles grumbled. “It seems that along with our son’s bride-to-be, we have an additional group of wedding guests. You are sure these are the ones responsible for your crew’s safety, captain?”
“Yes, my king,” Cazador nodded.
“And Princess Rosa!” Charles hacked and wheezed. “You say these travelers also saved your life?”
“Yes sir, from the dreaded Bluebeard himself!” Rosa answered.
“Bluebeard?” Joan cried. “My king, if what Rosa has said is true, these people have done the crown a service beyond all measure!”
“I see,” the king grumbled. “And you know one of them in particular?”
“Yes, my king,” Joan replied. “Erin is a woman of impeccable character. I trust her completely.”
“I see,” Charles turned toward Morgan and Gastronomix. “And this… Julia and the bard? What of them?”
“Julia Ventura is a thief and a harlot, no two ways about it,” Morgan sniffed.
“That’s not true,” Cazador interjected. “Every man, woman, and child of Bastilla owes their lives to the efforts of Julia Ventura and Yann the bard. Yann saved me from a horde of Alvarado’s men himself.”
At that remark, Morien glanced at Julia, to see her face twisted in a mixture of confusion and loathing. He couldn’t blame her. From her description of Cazador, he was a man deserving every ounce of her enmity. But from his own interaction with the captain, Morien simply had not been able to see the coward Julia had made him out to be. What purpose did his defense of Julia serve, then? Morien just couldn’t figure it out.
“Very well then,” Charles coughed. “Gastronomix, what of this bard?”
“That Yann, he made a proper fool of me!” Gastronomix growled. “But, if he is as the captain and Princess Rosa have said, I am willing to put aside my pride in recognition of his services.”
“I see,” Charles said. “In that case, I see no problem in accepting him as a guest.”
“Aw, cheer up, Chief Fatty,” Morgan chuckled at the Gaul’s obvious frustration. “It isn’t your fault you have bought into that altruistic taint.”
“Nor do I have a problem in accepting this Julia Ventura,” Charles growled.
Morgan blinked in bafflement, before at last crying out “What? But my king, she’s a criminal! Persona non grata in Brittany!”
“But not in Normandy,” Charles grinned. “And so long as she stays put in Norman soil, you cannot lay a finger on her. Am I understood?”
“Y-you…” Morgan looked around desperately for an ally, but could find none. So at last, with teeth clenched, fists gripped, and lips snarling, the Boss of Brittany growled out a “Yes, my king.”
“Good,” Charles cackled. “In that case, I suppose we should park our guests’ carriages and bring them inside. There is much we need to discuss.”
As the royal peers re-entered the castle, and the carriage and wagon were escorted to the stables, Morien breathed a sigh of relief, before a galling glare from Julia made him tense up once more.
“Why are you so relieved?” Julia growled.
“B-because… I don’t know I was just really worried we wouldn’t be able to get in for a second there but now we can so that’s all good isn’t it why are you glaring at me?” Morien gulped.
“I’d rather be barred from the castle than be in that captain’s debt,” Julia hissed. “Owing him anything makes my skin crawl.”
“But Julia…” Erin protested.
“What?” Julia turned on the sorceress.
“I just… never mind,” Erin sighed, and the rest of the ride was carried out in awkward silence.
“As royal guests, you are free to move about to any open area of the castle, provided you do not interfere in official matters of state,” a slave greeted the travelers after they had parked their vehicles and entered the building.
“Works for me,” Julia grumbled.
“Okay,” Erin nodded.
“Yes sir,” Morien replied.
Sure, Yann gave a thumbs-up.
“As you wish,” Hobie glowed.
“I guess this is where we part then,” Rosa sighed. “Don’t worry though. After we get through the official meetings and plannings and what-not, I’ll be sure to meet up with you guys again.”
“Come princess,” Roland tittered. “Let us leave the unwashed peasantry before they get their stench upon us.”
“If anyone’s unwashed around here it’s you,” Julia growled beneath her breath.
“What was that?” Roland warbled.
“Would your lordship like to have a bath before joining the royal meeting?” the slave asked politely.
“How dare you!” Roland screeched. “I ought to-”
“Roland, wash yourself of your filth or I’ll have this slave toss you out the window, as befitting your current condition,” the queen hissed icily.
“We do not throw our waste out the window anymore!” Roland squawked. “These are modern times! We shall use the modern technology available to us as befitting our noble and advanced intelligence! Are we primitives? Brutish creatures filled with savagery and vice?”
“Driver?” the queen groaned.
“Yes marm,” the lumbering brute went over and picked the tittering tinhorn up. Though he made sure to only use his fingertips, Roland was filthy after all, the driver’s grip was more than enough to arrest the knight’s gesticulations as the slave directed them to where the baths were.
“Hold on, master,” Eva hovered loyally to where her chosen one was being taken, leaving the Aragó family and Morien’s quintet by themselves.
“At last,” the queen sighed.
“Oh mother, why do we have to put up with them?” Rosa moaned. “They’re simply insufferable.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Julia smirked.
“Is it?” Erin seemed to genuinely consider the question.
“Consider it practice, Rosa, for when you have a husband,” the queen said. “Being a queen requires you to face many indignities with a gentle smile. After all, it is far, far easier to control people-”
“When they think they’re the ones in control. I know, I know, mother,” Rosa sighed. “It just gets on my nerves sometimes!”
“Ah, mami,” the queen sighed lovingly. “Believe you me, I know that more than anyone. But at least with all the Rolands and Evas in the world, your station can afford you some leeway.”
“As so artfully demonstrated by you,” Julia remarked.
“Yes,” the queen supposed. “Tell me, Ventura, was it? That’s a noble name, isn’t it?”
“Fallen noble,” Julia corrected. “Our house was wiped out by an Andalusi border skirmish.”
“Yes, I remember that,” the queen said. “We sent our navy to defend your city, but a fluke storm kept them from arriving in time. I know that hardly matters now, but you have my apologies.”
Julia flinched, taken off-guard by the queen’s statement.
“You… I…” Julia stammered.
“I still have not told you my name,” the queen placed a hand on Julia’s chin. “I am Isabela Aragó, Queen of Antile. You saved my daughter’s life, and I have already failed you once. If you have any wish, whatever it is, I shall not hesitate to grant it. I cannot do less for you or your family.”
“My queen,” another slave appeared. “My sincerest apologies. I shall escort you and your daughter to the royal meeting immediately.”
“Please don’t worry,” Isabela smiled gently at the slave. “We simply had some trouble with our escort.” Then, to Julia before she departed, “Until we meet again.”
“Yeah, see you!” Rosa smiled as she and her mother followed the slave away.
Morien glanced at Julia to see her still staring into space. As he instinctively placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, he suddenly heard her whisper something beneath her breath.
“I thought they’d abandoned us,” she mumbled. “Thought we weren’t worth it.”
“The Royal Library,” the attendant slave opened the doors to the location sought by the band of questers.
Although Morien had known to expect something impressive, the sheer immensity of the rows upon rows of bookshelves was enough to take his breath away. Here was a sight to rival even the library of the Grand Mosque in Timjeli. The labyrinthine arrangement of the shelves upon shelves upon shelves upon shelves of wonderful, glorious books seemed to beckon and beg at Morien, urging him to get lost within their maze. That smell, the musty, hoary, yet still so comforting and warm scent that wafted from the pages of the library’s offerings, it tickled and teased at Morien’s lungs, filling him with life and an intense longing. Here, here among the towering tomes that held secrets untold, Morien was home. Here he knew love. Here he felt complete.
Except, now something seemed to gnaw at him, a tingling afterthought, tugging at the coattails of his excitement and anxiousness. Annoyed and upset, Morien turned upon his subconscious mind, barking at it to keep quiet and quit bothering him. But still, despite Morien’s mental protests, his dormant doubts turned his gaze back to the friend who remained visibly shaken from the previous conversation, and he felt his hand instinctively reach towards the saphie at his chest.
“Julia,” Morien mumbled, before fear and surprise took hold of him. Had he said that out loud? Had Julia heard him? Oh, Morien felt such a fool!
“I shall return once it is time for dinner,” the slave bowed before leaving them, and as Morien glanced frantically around, he realized no-one had heard his recent outburst. Thanking Ar-Rahman and breathing a sigh of relief, Morien tried his best to pretend things were business as usual, as the group of travelers convened to converse on crucial matters.
“If any place has any information on the Key of Sea, it’ll be here,” Hobie glowed excitedly. “We must begin our search immediately.”
“But where do we start looking?” Erin asked. “This place is huge!”
“That’s, uh, that’s true,” Morien muttered.
“Yeah,” Julia mumbled noncommittedly.
Erin and Yann glanced at the melancholy pair, before both breathing a knowing sigh.
“Indeed,” Hobie dimmed dourly. “Perhaps then we should split into teams. Morien, you go with-”
Before he could continue, he was interrupted by the hasty holding up of hands from Yann and Erin. Within Yann’s outstretched hand lay Morien’s, within Erin’s Julia’s.
“And you can go with the boys,” Erin gave a chant and a sneeze before a light began to glow from her staff. “I’ve enough illumination on my own.”
Indeed, Yann nodded.
And though Morien and Julia gibbered in confused protest, while Hobie blinked in befuddlement, the minds of the bard and the sorceress were made up, and they quickly made their ways into the massive maze known as the Royal Library.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Morien protested as Yann silently dragged him through the rows of bookshelves.
“Yes, this section doesn’t seem to be concerned with either myth or history,” Hobie gleamed confusedly. “In fact it seems to be… romance?”
“Romance?” Morien’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Don’t we have more important things to do? The fate of the world is at stake! Surely that takes precedence!”
Yes, yes, Yann sighed, he knew that very well. But consider this a gentle detour, something to consult now that they had the opportunity. Yann’s eyes glistened wisely as he deftly selected the best books for Morien to study on the subject, and soon enough the young man had amassed a sizable collection.
“L-look, this is…” Morien flinched as the bard placed yet another book on the pile that lay within his arms. “There’s really no need for this! It’s not like that! I’m just worried is all! You saw how Julia was, she was shaken up pretty badly! I just want to make sure she’s okay!”
“Julia?” Hobie blinked quizzically. “I thought it was Erin you had your eye on.”
“I-!” Morien gave a start, before realizing that Hobie was right. It had all happened so quickly, and Erin was just so sweet and outgoing. Morien had never really known anyone his age so friendly, least of all a pretty girl. He’d been caught off-guard, and Erin’s energetic presence had steamrolled his pitiful, inexperienced heart. But then why wasn’t he thinking about her now? Why were his thoughts turning instead towards Julia? It was true, they had shared many a moment since their initial encounter. Morien knew he could rely on Julia, and he hoped that she knew the same of him. But romance? Really? The idea was ridiculous. Truly ridiculous.
“I don’t need any of this stuff. Thank you,” Morien let the books fall with a clatter, before making his way away from Yann and his meddling schemes.
Yann sighed in disappointment. Evidently this would take a while.
“Wait for me, Morien,” Hobie followed after the boy.
“So,” Erin tried to start a conversation.
“So?” Julia was noncompliant.
Erin exhaled a long and heavy breath, before inhaling another one and at last asking “You okay?”
Julia stared back in stupefaction. “Why… why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I dunno,” Erin shrugged. “You just seem kind of down.”
“Shouldn’t…” Julia muttered. “Shouldn’t we be more concerned with saving the world? Where are we anyways?”
“Beats me,” Erin looked around. “I think it’s the national biography section, but there’s one book over there that’s blood red and has twenty locks on it.”
“Must’ve been… someone bad,” Julia mumbled.
“Okay now I know something’s wrong,” Erin griped. “Your quipping competency has seriously deteriorated!”
“Look! Just…” Julia bristled. “I lost my family a long time ago. I was sold into slavery. I got out, but I thought I’d been abandoned.”
“By Cazador.”
Julia flinched at that name. “You… if you only knew him…”
“I do,” Erin pointed out. “Remember, I helped him distract Captain Alvarado back in Bastilla. He was really tough, but he cared about the people there, and about doing the right thing.”
“He does not care about doing the right thing!” Julia seethed. “Only saving his own skin! That’s all he cares about!”
“Then why’d he even agree to evacuate Bastilla?” Erin asked. “Why go to all that trouble? He could have easily just got on his boat and left.”
“I don’t… don’t we have saving-the-world nonsense to take care of?”
“He wanted to tell you something,” Erin said. “He had a message to give me to give to you, but he chickened out at the last minute. He said it didn’t really matter, but I could tell whatever it was, it was important.”
“So what, I should just forgive him, after everything he’s done?” Julia hissed.
“Beats me,” Erin shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s done, so I can’t say. But I can say that you ought to at least talk to him. He has things he needs to say to you, and you obviously have things you need to say to him. It won’t do anyone any good if you both just keep everything bottled up inside.”
“I…” Julia groaned. “Look, let’s just go. We need to find where the Key is.”
Erin sighed in disappointment. Evidently this would take a while.
“Alright then,” she said, before taking Julia further into the labyrinthine library.
“My condolences, princess. I know you were fond of the prince,” Captain Cazador placed a comforting hand on the sobbing princess’ shoulder.
“N-no, it’s alright,” Rosa sniffled. “I… I’m okay.”
Isabela stared at her daughter, as she sat there sobbing. Years of experience had given Isabela a keen eye for discerning feminine duplicity. It was the way of every proper noblewoman to keep her queenly mask firmly in place, and in this case, girlish tears were the appropriate response. Noblemen liked to believe they were the whole world to their women, so when they died, to keep up appearances a noblewoman had to pretend that her whole world had ended with them. However, Isabela’s trained eye could see from her daughter’s expression that there was a layer of truth behind her extravagant sorrow. She had been fond of Prince Louis, though she had hardly known him, and his passing had truly hurt her. Gently going over to her daughter, Isabela wrapped her in a tender embrace and whispered words of comfort, not as a queen but as a mother.
When Isabela glanced up at the awkward Prince Jourdain, the stoic King Charles, and the sobbing Queen Antoinette, all gathered around the same meeting room table, the Antilian queen suddenly noticed something odd. Years of experience had given Isabela a keen eye for discerning feminine duplicity. And as she turned her trained eye on Antoinette, Isabela saw that the queen’s tears were pure theater. But why? How could a mother not truly mourn the loss of her child?
With a start, Jourdain stood up and abruptly made his way to the door, much to the confusion of the women and anger of the men in the room. As King Charles bellowed and Captain Cazador fumed, the two queens and princess merely glanced around in confusion. Or at least, that was how things appeared. As Isabela caught a glimpse of Antoinette though, she could tell the Carolingian queen was well aware of the reason for her son’s departure. She could feel the fury ripple off Antoinette like a physical force, and it scared her. Who was this woman?
“Say, Morien, wait, would you?” Hobie called out as the young man continued at his indignant pace.
“Huh?” Morien had been so wrapped up in his mood he had hardly noticed the floating orb following him.
“Oh, s-sorry,” Morien halted his steps and turned around for the sphere to catch up with him.
“It’s alright,” Hobie glowed. “I must say, I’ve no idea what Yann was on about.”
“Uh… y-yeah. Haha!” Morien gulped. “A-and besides, even if it were true, we’ve got more important things to worry about.”
“If what were true?” Hobie blinked, causing Morien’s eyes to widen and stance to stiffen.
“Uh… n-nothing!” Morien began to shout. “Nothing at all! Forget I said anything at all! Just completely forget about it okay?”
“Shush!” a black-robed figure popped out of thin air to reprimand Morien.
“AAAAHHHHH!” Morien screamed as he leapt up several feet in fright.
“Oh now, didn’t you hear me the first time?” the figure sighed. “This is the Royal Library, and as the Librarian I must ask you to shush.”
From an initial glance, the Librarian appeared to be a wizard, like the figure of Merlin or Malagigi. But on second thought, Morien realized the Librarian’s white beard was a little too short, his wide-brimmed hat a little too squat, and his robes a little too flat to be a proper storybook wizard. Still, if not a wizard…
“How… how did you…?” Morien stammered.
“How did I what?” the Librarian adjusted his spectacles. “And who are you?”
“I’m called Hobie,” Hobie explained. “My friend here is Morien.”
“Morien?” the Librarian lit up as he noticed Morien’s complexion. “Say, you’re from Rahmanite lands, aren’t you?”
“Uh, y-yes,” Morien said. “Why do you ask?”
“Ah, it’s been so long,” the Librarian sighed wistfully. “Many years ago, back when the borders of the world were not so stringent, I tasted a most delicious fruit, grown only in Rahmanite lands! Tell me, my young friend, you wouldn’t happen to have any bananas on you, would you?”
“B-bananas…?” Morien did not know quite how to respond. “Um… sorry, but no.”
“Just my luck,” the Librarian moaned ruefully.
“Couldn’t you simply go to these lands yourself?” Hobie asked. “You seemed to have no trouble popping over here just now.”
“Yes, but my powers only work within the library,” the Librarian explained. “They don’t call me the Librarian for nothing.”
“I see,” Hobie said. “Well in that case, if you are the Librarian, we’re looking for information on the Key of Sea, from the myths of Lon the Lionheart and such. Any idea where to look?”
“The Key of Sea…” the Librarian pondered. “Yes, yes, I know just where to go.”
And with a pop, the trio disappeared, just as Yann appeared with a book of sonnets in hand.
Oh drat, Yann huffed. Of all things.
“‘Son of a submariner, Lysanderoth, I should have known you were frogs all along!’ …Man, who writes this crap?” Erin mused as she turned the pages of the musty tome.
“You’re sure we’re on the right track in this section?” Julia gazed at the barrage of books the girls had gathered at the table where they now sat. The tower of tomes before her seemed nigh-unconquerable.
“Positive,” Erin grinned. “The Aenon River is the source of most of Normandy’s water, and it leads directly to the Océan Guinien, the largest sea in the world. There’s a reason Aix is the center of Carolina, after all. There has to be some myth or legend concerning either this river or the sea where we can find a clue to the Key.”
“If you say so,” Julia sighed as she half-heartedly began to leaf through one of the books.
“What’s the matter?” Erin asked. “I thought you were dying to start our search.”
Julia groaned, as she had said exactly that.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Erin inquired, more gently this time. “What’s bothering you, I mean?”
“No,” Julia grunted curtly. After some more leafing through the ancient volume though, she at last acquiesced.
“Fine,” Julia groaned. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe talking to the captain is the best thing to do. But what would that accomplish? What would that gain me that I don’t already have?”
“Peace of mind? Satisfaction?” Erin shrugged. “The chance to move on and forget?”
“…I don’t want to forget,” Julia whispered. “I… I never told you, but… my brother…”
Slowly, timidly, with many stops, starts, stammers, and stutters, Julia told Erin about the Battle of Barbarossa, the siege of Zarzuela, the years she had spent as a slave, and her eventual freedom. At first it was difficult, the initial trickling of secrets through the few, small leaks in the dam she had constructed around her heart. But as Julia told more and more of herself, and as Erin sat calmly beside her, her hand clutched comfortingly around hers, the dam began to collapse, until at last all the pain and sorrow and bitterness and bile that had built up from so many years came pouring forth from Julia’s heart out to her friend. All the while Erin said nothing, merely listening and being there for Julia. And when at last the young merchant had poured everything out, and not one drop remained, she began to cry.
“I don’t… I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that,” Julia sniffed.
Except for Morien, Julia’s mind admonished her for forgetting. Technically Hobie had been there as well, but it was to Morien that Julia had truly directed her confession. And why? What had possessed her to make herself so vulnerable? What had influenced her to do the same thing just now with Erin? Was this what having friends was like?
“C’mere,” Erin stood up to deliver an awkwardly positioned, but still comfortingly friendly, hug from across the table.
“Wh-what? Stop it! Come on!” Julia groaned but did not resist, and eventually, after Erin’s positive vibes had worn her down, she fully acquiesced.
“Better now?” Erin asked.
It was a while before Julia spoke, but when she did, it was with a smile.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I am. Thank you.”
“‘And Rold kissed the hilt of it, and it was salt upon his lips with the battle-sweat of Welleran. And Rold said: “What should a man do with the sword of Welleran?”’ …Huh,” Morien muttered as he skimmed through the book he now held in his hands.
“I thought you might like it,” the Librarian grinned. “It’s quite the classic. Right up your street.”
“Well, it’s… uh, certainly not what I was expecting,” Morien admitted.
“As you were saying about the Key of Sea?” Hobie inquired.
“Ah, yes, yes. I’ve just the book for that. Give me a second…” the Librarian moved over to the nearby shelf to find what he was looking for.
Morien turned away from the book to peer over the railing that was perched next to the table where he now sat. From this little alcove on the second floor, Morien felt like a watchful guardian, keeping vigil over the books that rested far below him. It was a wonderful feeling. Morien wished he could spend all eternity simply partaking in every musty old tome within these walls. To decipher ancient manuscripts, to find new and wonderful stories, to be the keeper of all these worlds, just as Ar-Rahman protected the many worlds and many stories that existed within reality. Here was bliss. Here was rapture. Here was a life Morien could well enjoy living.
“Oh come on,” Julia’s warm laugh seemed to tickle Morien’s ears. “Aren’t there far more enjoyable things to do besides simply reading? Hmm?”
Morien’s heart skipped a beat, and his face flushed deep with guilt and confusion. Where had that thought come from? Why was he still thinking of Julia? And why think of her like that, when she was still probably in the midst of misery right now? He had no right to think such things. Better to focus on more agreeable matters, better to stick with what he was comfortable with. Quickly Morien flipped to a random page in a book on the table, hoping to find some passage to distract him.
“Philip,” she said at last.
“Jeanne,” I whispered.
“That is all,--that is what I wished,” she sighed,--“Philip and Jeanne.”
She held her hand toward me and I touched it with my lips.
“Win me,” she said, but this time it was the body and soul which spoke in unison.
Morien squeaked as he hurled the book aside. Of all things! He knew that story! He knew how it ended! Philip would be bitten by a viper, and flung back to whence he had come, to a time many centuries after Jeanne had long since passed, her final years spent still pining after him. That was how these sorts of things turned out in real life. Or, as Morien reconsidered that particular phrasing, perhaps that was not quite right. But still! There was no point in thinking such frivolous fancies of Julia!
Ah, but, Morien remembered, was that tale not simply one of many romances he had read? Were they not as varied in their endings as the many myriad lives led by real lords and ladies? Indeed, he remembered many tales by that same author, whose story he had so carelessly just tossed away, where the pair of lovers lived happily ever after. Were they not just as valid as the tale of Philip and Jeanne? Did they not just as accurately reflect the possibilities that lay before him?
“You’re so naïve,” Julia’s voice whispered teasingly in his thoughts, and Morien stood up abruptly, before striding away to clear his head. The library’s second floor had barely an inkling of the selection provided by its first, but as Morien passed an impressive window, he saw a sight that took his breath away, and pushed aside all thoughts of romance.
Pressing his face against the glass, to take in all that lay before him, Morien gawped at the grand garden that stood outside. Rolling rainbow waves of flowers and vines, trees of every type and species, flocks of birds flying and calling throughout. Just as every Rahmanite child had, Morien had heard the tale of the Eternal Garden, where humanity had resided before its fall from Ar-Rahman’s grace. And though he had seen no paintings and read no descriptions save the simple summaries supplied by scripture, Morien’s mind had of course constructed an image of the Garden, as had every Rahmanite with a fertile imagination. And though the Garden of Morien’s thoughts was beautiful, it paled in comparison to that which now lay before him in reality. How could anything so beautiful exist beyond the realm of stories?
“Like it?” the voice of the Librarian made Morien turn, to see the elderly fellow beaming beside him.
“Y-yes,” Morien said breathlessly.
“Yes, the Royal Gardens are quite the mark of pride for our young Prince Jourdain,” the Librarian said. “Or, I should say our soon-to-be-King Jourdain.”
“King?” Morien was surprised.
“What about Prince Louis?” Hobie asked from beside the Librarian.
“Ah, so you haven’t heard,” the Librarian took off his hat somberly. “Prince Louis died, just recently. Wounds from a hunting trip.”
“Our condolences,” Hobie dimmed respectfully.
“Y-yeah…” Morien was flabbergasted. He knew very little about the Carolingian royal family, but he knew Rosa had talked fondly of Prince Louis. She must have been taking the news hard. Morien’s somber thoughts were interrupted though by a flicker in the corner of his eye. Glancing back outside and squinting, the young fellow noticed two figures walking over to each other, in the clearing around the mighty oak that lay in the garden’s center. The man he did not recognize, and the woman he did not know, yet somehow, she seemed strangely familiar.
“Who are they?” Morien asked.
“Them?” the Librarian glanced outside. “Oh, yes, that’ll be Prince Jourdain and his secret lover.”
“Secret lover?” Hobie inquired.
“Yes,” the Librarian said. “At a guess I’d say they’re meeting over the wedding that’s about to take place between the prince and Princess Rosa. I suppose that would put a bit of a strain on their relationship.”
“Yes, rather,” Hobie admitted. “Really though, not much of a secret lover if everyone knows about you.”
“Oh no, for the most part it is a secret,” the Librarian quickly clarified. “The King doesn’t know. The other nobles don’t know. The only reason I know is because I’m up here all the time, and even I don’t know who she is. I’m too far away to make out her face.”
“Does anyone else know?” Morien queried.
“I don’t think so…” the Librarian supposed. “I rather tried to keep the whole thing hush-hush, you know? Still, there was one person I think who suspected at one point. It was a while ago though.”
“Really? Who would that be?” Hobie asked.
The Librarian shuddered. “The Queen. Lady Antoinette.”
“What is it? Why did you ask to meet me?” Esmeralda glanced about anxiously. The request had come suddenly, without any warning. It had been difficult for Esmeralda to make her exit from her daily duties without alerting anyone, and even now, she was unsure if her absence wouldn’t be noticed. Something was obviously wrong, and the haggard and worn expression on Jourdain’s face only made her worry more. What could warrant such a sudden rendezvous though? Esmeralda was filled with dread.
“I’m sorry. I just… I had to see you,” Jourdain mumbled. “The… the wedding… I…”
“Oh… yes…” Esmeralda sighed. “I knew this day would come eventually. But still, it hurts.”
“Y-you… what do you mean, you knew?” Jourdain stammered. “I thought… I always thought it would be just the two of us. You and me. Isn’t that…?”
“Oh, Jourdain,” Esmeralda smiled, but it was a smile filled with regret and sorrow. “You know that could never happen. I’m your slave.”
“NO!” Jourdain howled. “Don’t you… I’m going to free you! I’m going to free everyone! I promise you! I’ll destroy that wretched institution even if it kills me!”
“But why?” Esmeralda’s eyes began to water. “What would it accomplish? Even if I were to become a free woman, I’d still be of low birth. I’d still have no titles or lands. I’d have no reason to be by your side. Even if I wasn’t a slave, we still could never be married.”
“But don’t you want to be free?” Jourdain cried. “Don’t you want that?”
“I do! I do… but I…” Esmeralda sobbed. “At least this way… at least this way I can be yours.”
Jourdain staggered, as though Esmeralda’s words had physically struck him. How could she say such a thing? How could she believe such a thing?
“I love you,” Jourdain pleaded. “I love you!”
“I love you too,” Esmeralda smiled, even as her tears stained her cheeks. “With all my heart.”
“Then why?” Jourdain howled. “Tell me what to do! Tell me how we can be together, and I swear to you, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything you ask of me, anything at all. Please, Esmeralda…”
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Esmeralda wiped away her tears. “But I’ve always known. I’ve always known I could never be anything but what I am now. And nothing you or anyone else can do will change that. I wish there was a way, but there isn’t. I’m sorry.”
And with that, she fled. Dashing back into the sea of green, Esmeralda disappeared, even as Jourdain’s cries begged her to stay.
“Esmeralda!” Jourdain called out. “Esmeralda!”
But though it broke her heart, she did not heed his call. The prince remained alone.
“Hmmmm,” Erin mulled over a particular passage.
“Found anything?” Julia asked.
“I… think… so…” Erin showed Julia what she had been reading.
“Wait, more frogs?” Julia had not expected that. However, from the looks of the book’s content, that was where the answer lay.
“Seems that way,” Erin shrugged. “According to this, there are loads of legends of frogmen living in the Aenon River, and several of them involve the frogmen worshiping some magic, blue pearl.”
“Okay, sounds promising,” Julia admitted. “So where do we find these frogmen?”
“Well, that’s just it,” Erin sighed. “The frogmen were said to have left this world long ago. They and all the other Fair Folk left these lands centuries ago. At least, that’s what the legends say.”
“Okay,” Julia shrugged. “So we can’t find them here. But I mean, how far could they have gone?”
“Julia, when I say they left these lands, I don’t mean they went to a different country. I mean they left this world, this very plane of existence. They all went to Fairyland.”
Julia stared blankly at Erin, before suddenly emitting a loud “Hunh?”
“Yeah,” Erin furrowed her brow. “Didn’t you ever hear stories of the Fair Folk growing up?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t,” Julia grunted. “So you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about when it comes to fairies and crap. You said they left this very plane of existence?”
“Yeah,” Erin sighed. “And as far as I know there’s no way to get to Fairyland, even if you’re half-fairy yourself.”
“Aw come on, there’s got to be a way,” Julia said. “I mean, you went to a magic school, for crying out loud. Surely you learned some way there! They probably had field trips there every week!”
“Sorry, no,” Erin replied. “We’ve tested all the ways to Fairyland time and time again. Going around a church widdershins, entering in-between spaces at in-between times, everything’s been tried. The only way I know to get to Fairyland is to be taken there, and if I knew how to bring that about I’d have done it years ago.”
“So… what do we do then?” Julia asked.
“For now, I’d say our best bet is to reconvene with Hobie,” Erin said. “He may have some information we don’t, and anyways, I think he’ll want to hear this.”
“Alright then,” Julia sighed.
“Ta… raysk? Ras-kay? Ras…?” Morien mumbled, as he gazed at the picture which lay before him. Within the book the Librarian had brought there sat the portrait of an immense creature. So huge was the beast that it dwarfed the huts and boats it passed by, as it swam through a river on fins the size of schooners. Its back was like that of a giant turtle, with algae and lakeweed growing plentifully upon it, and its face was like that of a massive lion, with matted mane and feline eyes that glowed as it stared upon the pitiful humans within its view. Morien’s first instinct as he saw those eyes was one of contempt, these were the eyes of a predator, gazing upon puny scraps not even worthy of being its next meal. But as he continued to stare into those calm, océanic eyes, Morien saw that they were filled with a deep and selfless love, a kind of love Morien knew all too well. They were a mother’s eyes.
“Tarasque,” the Librarian corrected. “Legend has it that this mighty creature once roamed the vast Aenon River, whereupon we now sit, to live and thrive as all living creatures do. However, when the first human settlers came to these lands, they mistook the Tarasque for a monster, and sought to drive the creature away. However, one day, a young woman named Martha, who was not afraid, sought out the Tarasque, and upon her discovery of it, she sang to the creature. Her voice was so beautiful, and her heart so pure, the Tarasque swore to be the guardian of all who lived within its river. From that day, Martha became a Saint, and the Tarasque became the keeper of this river, to watch and protect all who lived here, until the end of time.”
“That’s beautiful,” Morien found himself saying.
“Yes,” the Librarian sniffed. “Unfortunately, one of the problems with a hidden guardian is that you don’t quite know where to look to find it.”
“And what does this have to do with the Key of Sea?” Hobie inquired.
“Ah that,” the Librarian turned to another page. “Well you see, the Key of Sea was forged within the Tarasque’s belly, and upon Lon’s successful vanquishing of Tar-Cruorem, he returned it to its original location.”
“So… it’s inside a giant monster’s stomach?” Morien started to feel a vague unease, or perhaps distaste was a better word.
“Not a monster, but yes, more or less,” the Librarian replied. “And as I mentioned earlier, I’m not quite sure how to even find the Tarasque. The last sighting was centuries ago, before Aix was even built.”
“Aren’t there any ancient rites, some old rituals that can be used to call upon the Tarasque once again?” Hobie asked.
“The legends say the singing of a maiden pure will do the trick,” the Librarian sighed. “But I don’t suppose you’ve one of those on hand?”
Morien and Hobie exchanged glances.
“We’ve got Yann,” Morien muttered. “D’you think he could pass for a maiden pure?”
“Maybe with a wig and a bag of ice,” Hobie supposed.
“He is very pretty,” Morien noted.
“That was a ‘no’, Morien.”
“What?” Morien blinked curiously before realization at last befell him. “O-oh! Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Hobie glittered.
“I suppose if you alerted the king, he might summon a choir to aid you in your quest,” the Librarian said. “But you’ll have to do it after tonight. There’s to be a ball held in honor of the princess’ arrival, and he’ll be resting until then. His health hasn’t been the best these past few months.”
“Very well then,” Hobie lowered himself respectfully. “In that case, thank you very much, Librarian, for your help with our quest.”
“Don’t mention it,” the Librarian grinned. “Only, the next time you swing by, bring some bananas, will you?”
“Sure thing,” Morien smiled.
“Morien, if you’ll take the book,” Hobie said. “I suggest we reconvene with the girls and Yann to formulate a plan.”
“Alright then,” Morien nodded as he swept the book into his hands, and so absorbed was he in the joy of adventure once more, he completely forgot his previous melancholy.
The place has an entity of its own — an indwelling personality. It's there, like the soul in a human body, but I can't pin it down or touch it. You know that I'm not superstitious — but, on the other hand, I'm not a bigoted materialist, either; and I've run across some odd phenomena in my time. That meadow, perhaps, is inhabited by what the ancients called a Genius Loci.
Sitting in silence, Yann peered through the text that lay in his lap, before checking to see if the author was credited somewhere near the front. Whoever had written this certainly knew their stuff. Indeed, Yann could not help but feel a little wary over how accurate the writer’s description was. Before he could find any name listed though, the bard noticed Erin and Julia make their way round the corner towards him.
“Hey, Yann, what are you doing here?” Erin asked, before a popping noise sounded and Morien and Hobie appeared.
“Thank you!” Morien called back to the Librarian, wherever he might have been.
“Shush!” the Librarian popped out to deliver one last word. “This is still a library, don’t you know?”
“Oh,” Morien grimaced sheepishly, before continuing in a hushed tone. “Sorry.”
“Hello Erin, Julia, Yann,” Hobie glowed warmly. “Any luck?”
“Yes and no,” Julia said. “We found where the Key probably is, but we don’t know how to find it.”
“Well then, that puts us in the same boat,” Hobie noted. “I suppose a meeting with the king is in order, after we compare notes, of course.”
“Yeah, the Librarian said we’ll have to wait until after the ball tonight to talk to him,” Morien added.
“Ball? Tonight?” Julia was intrigued.
“Ugh,” Erin groaned. “Will I have to wear a dress?”
“You’re wearing one now,” Hobie said.
“Yeah, but like… a weird, fancy dress?” Erin moaned.
“Well I for one cannot wait,” Julia clapped her hands together gleefully. “I am quite well-versed in proper ball etiquette, and know all the ways to circumvent and subvert it spectacularly. Besides, ever since I first started hanging out with you losers, I haven’t been getting my medicine!”
“Medicine?” Hobie smoldered slyly.
“A whole ball full of fit, eligible bachelors,” Julia sighed wistfully. “After all this time starving, I shall finally feast to my heart’s content.”
“O-oh,” Morien tried to force a smile, though for some reason he found it difficult. “W-well, I’m glad to see you’re back to your old self.”
Erin cast a gruesome glare at Yann, who merely shrugged sheepishly in surrender. Evidently things had not been so successful on his end, Erin sighed.
“I am,” Julia smiled calmly. “Now that you mention it, I really think I am. Thank you.”
“That’s… good to know,” Morien said, and it was. It truly made him happy to see Julia her usual sprightly self again. So then, as his hand grasped the saphie round his neck, why did he also feel a deep, swampy pit slowly growing in his stomach?
Jourdain stumbled through the Hall of Kings, dragging his feet in defeat. What was happening? When had his life become so unraveled? One moment he had been holding Esmeralda in his arms, he still remembered that feeling. Now everything had been taken from him. He was little more than a pawn in some grand, cosmic jest, powerless to save anyone, least of all himself. Confusion, rage, betrayal, self-loathing, a deep, unending sorrow, it all raged through his mind like a tempest, and in this sea of despair, he was as frail and helpless as a tiny, paper boat.
He still remembered her. He still remembered the day they had first met. He had been just a babe, an infant barely able to walk, gazing up at everyone else in the world. But she had been the same age, the same height, the same heart as him. They were both too young to even know what a slave and a prince were back then. The only language they spoke was one of friendship and joy; joy that had always been present as the babes turned into children and the children turned into adults. Even as the world had grown more complex, even as the two had become aware of their stations, and the roles they would have to play, that joy and love had never disappeared. That’s what Jourdain had always thought. But now, now as he still reeled from Esmeralda’s words, he began to wonder. Was it all a lie? Had the joy left long ago, with him too stupid to notice? That was what he was, wasn’t it? Stupid. Stupid and childish. Still an infant, still a babe. Jourdain moaned in agony as he slumped to the floor. He was no king. He never had been, and he never would be. The captain had been right. He had been right about everything, hadn’t he?
Jourdain gazed around him, staring at all the portraits of past and glorious kings. Some day his face would adorn these walls, and the tragedy of it was that he didn’t deserve it. Louis should have been the one forever immortalized in this hall, not him. His father was right. It should have been him who died that day.
In curiosity, Jourdain glanced up to see whose painting he had fallen underneath, but the answer only brought him more grief. Of all the kings, for it to be Arthur! If ever there was a greater contrast, Jourdain could not name it. Arthur Pendragon, eleventh of the Twelve Valiants, was the only Carolingian king to match Charlemagne’s greatness as a ruler. From his throne in Camelot, Arthur ushered in a golden age, where valor and chivalry did flourish, and peace at last came to the warring nations of Augusta. With his magic sword Excalibur, Arthur led his Knights of the Round Table on many a quest and many an adventure. From the slaying of giants to the search for the Holy Grail, the Knights of the Round Table were the pinnacle of everything it meant to be a Valiant, with Arthur as the greatest and noblest of them all. But as with all kingdoms, this golden age was not to last, and at the Battle of Camlann, Arthur and his foe Mordred were both slain in battle, though Arthur’s body was taken to the isle of Avalon, where it rested to this day. Was Jourdain a Mordred? A slayer of a golden age? He knew it to be so.
“Jourdain,” the soothing whisper of Queen Antoinette reached Jourdain’s ear as his mother’s comforting arms wrapped his limp frame from behind.
“Mother,” he mumbled dumbly.
“Jourdain, whatever’s the matter?” Antoinette asked tranquilly. “You made us all worry back there.”
“I’m sorry,” he muttered mechanically.
“Jourdain…” Antoinette sighed. “Is this about the slave girl?”
Jourdain’s blood ran cold, and his eyes widened as he turned his head to stare at his mother.
“Please, I know boys your age have a tendency to get… attached,” Antoinette grimaced. “But surely, you’ve outgrown her by now. Rosa is a far better match for you. Her breeding is all in order. The least you could do is enjoy yourself with her. If you want to keep enjoying yourself with that slave girl of course, I won’t stop you. A king has his rights. But he also has his responsibilities, and those responsibilities include his duty as a husband. I know with everything that’s happened recently, you must be feeling lost, but don’t worry. I’ll be with you every step of the way, like I always have.”
Antoinette smiled proudly at her son, as he merely continued to stare blankly at her.
“Her name,” he said at last.
“What?” Antoinette seemed confused.
“Say her name.”
“Rosa?”
“No,” Jourdain said, more firmly now. “The woman I love.”
“The slave girl,” Antoinette corrected.
“She has a name,” Jourdain’s voice rose in temper. “She’s a person. She has a name, a life, she’s a person!”
“Now, Jourdain,” Antoinette sighed. “Calm down. You’re getting-”
“Say her name!”
“I… look, having this little temper tantrum won’t do anybody any good. If you could just-”
“Goodbye, mother,” Jourdain stood up and left, his pace quickened with newfound resolve, his heart filled with the all-consuming desire to get as far away from his mother as possible. As he disappeared from his mother’s sight, Arthur’s watchful gaze remained fixed in his direction.
“Jourdain, Jourdain!” the queen called, but it did no good. Her son had made up his mind. He was becoming impossible to control! When had that happened? Antoinette did not know, but she did know that she hated it.
“Very well then,” she hissed. “It appears I shall have to take matters into my own hands. Again.”