by John O.
“Oh so she paints now. Interesting! She always wanted to meet you when she lived with us. She was never fortunate in that regard, for your visits always occurred when she was away on an errand or visiting her family. How is it that you saw her paintings? Has she finally gotten over her obsession with Nico Hart’s, which she hangs on every available inch of space on her walls?”
“No,” he smiled. “She’s still very much obsessed. She keeps her paintings in an inner room in order not to undermine her revered Nico by placing hers alongside his.”
“You must have made quite an impression then, for her to have taken you to this room. She tends to be very private.”
“She did not seem so private to me. Anyway, what is the story about her having supernatural powers?”
“HN Ruki Sen must have told you about my experience with her−I thought he would take it with him to the grave. It is true. She showed them to me. She levitated and disappeared before my very eyes.”
“Could it be she who attacked Ruki Sen?”
“I know her, Yosi, and she would do nothing of the sort. Kindness and Love are the very essence of her being.”
“Before your abduction, would you have ever believed that a temple boy like me was capable of killing anyone?”
“I understand your meaning. Yet still, she did not do this. I am certain.”
Clearing up after him, she picked up the tray and said to him, “I must go now. Please be careful, brother. Times are strange.”
Oracion returned once more to her body. Opening her eyes, she muttered, “Prisca has powers like mine. What’s worse, hers may be better off!”
The man, who was actually an Aishe, looked incredulously at her. “Impossible!”
“I just heard Maya Sint confirm this to her brother. She can levitate. Unlike me who has to eject my mind from my body, the Ispris can disappear straight away too. That has to be less exhausting. And the risk of being returned to the body upon sudden physical interference would be non-existent with her.”
“If she gets involved, she might somehow expose us,” the Aishe thought aloud.
“The good thing for now is that the new HN seems to think she is a suspect in the murder of Ruki Sen. That may help to further shield us. What I am not sure of is if she can pass through walls in that state.”
“Are you certain you heard Maya correctly?”
“I am certain of it.”
Bewildered, the Aishe could only ponder the obvious question, how can this be?
It was nightfall and, as usual, the Leades and Spyinmes of the Helesp were seated in the hall, their meals before them. The Spyinmes sat together while the Leades sat opposite them. There was no binding rule which demanded that they sit separately. However, it was a coping mechanism via which the officers maintained the integrity of their thoughts. Maya looked around for Mila as she emerged from the HN’s room. Spotting her beside Rahel, she made her way to sit in-between them.
“Isn’t your brother quite the dashing man?” Mila teased.
“So it seems, Mila. Perhaps you have your sights on him?” Maya replied, equally teasing.
“Why no. A girl is allowed to admire the creations of the Almighty, I believe.”
Diverting her attention towards Zach Sen, Mila whispered to Rahel, “Just look at him, sitting aloof like one of great importance. Perhaps he hasn’t realized a better man now resides in the Helesp.”
“I presume you’re talking about Zach?”
“Who else? Is he not the proudest of them all?”
“He did not seem so proud to me while we went head to head at Strag earlier today.”
“You fancy yourself for the attention he gave you. Do not be fooled. That man is interested in no one.”
“Tell me, Mila. Are you in love with him?” Rahel asked with a mockingly earnest look on her face.
“Why Rahel, I believe you know me better than that. That you think I could fall in love with a man like that is preposterous!”
Watching her friend overreact, Rahel smiled as she thought, Dear Mila. Of course I do know you, and you have just confirmed what I always suspected. Looking at Zach Sen she thought on, This man can have any lady he wants, yet he chooses to ignore all. I was raised to hate men, but there is something about him−something that fascinates me. It is definitely not love, for I am a Sejuit. I cannot fall in love with anyone, and certainly not a Lionean.
Yosi Sint laid on his bed as he listened to the melody of Karl’s harp, echoing from the hall. As much as he wanted to enjoy the music, he could not, for he was deep in thought about the challenges that lay ahead in his new position. So far, Hinary Rosento, Sen Rosento, Ruki Sen, his wife and daughter, and Riva Rosento had been murdered by the machinations of one or both of the twins, if his predecessors could be believed. Perhaps his task wasn’t too difficult, he thought. For as it stood, all Yosi had to do was determine which of the twins was the mastermind. What befuddled him, however, was the motive behind the series of assassinations. Could it be a quest for the mantle of Ishe? Not likely, he reasoned. Those two were far too low on the list to expect to inherit the mantle so soon. They would literally have to eliminate all other Aishes, and that was too extreme a plan, even for the twins. In addition, the fact that Ishe Reed was not murdered makes that line of thought even less credible. The possibility that the motive was vengeful, as a result of some past grievance seemed more likely. The late HNs were probably just casualties as a result of the investigations. But no, he reasoned again. Revenge alone wouldn’t justify all these deaths. The twins were the eighth and ninth sons of Hinary Rosento. As Hinary would have it, the succession plan was such that his sons would rule for six years each, during which the mantle would be passed from one son to the next according to their order of birth. The last son, upon conclusion of his rule, would then return the mantle to the eldest son and the cycle will be repeated. This effectively meant that Aishe Even could not be Ishe until twenty-three year’s time, while his twin, Aishe Foté had twenty-nine years to wait. They were, at the moment, sixty-five years of age. What were the chances that they would be alive, fit, and able to rule at the respective ages of eighty-eight and ninety-four? What if those two were ambitious enough to shorten their wait through treachery and murder? Did this then mean that Ishe Fiten’s life was now at stake? Could Prisca Foté, daughter of Aishe Foté, be involved in all this? After all, there was no telling how much a daughter would do for a father. Her supernatural powers were consistent with the mode of attacks on Ruki Sen and his family, so why should she be ruled out as a suspect? Moreover, were there others like her?
Undecided regarding the best approach to guide his investigations, he took a sip from his wine cup and switched his thoughts to another pressing issue at hand, Norwaland.
9
The densely populated mass of land called Norwaland was ruled by the middle-aged King Franz XVIII. A man renowned for his fiery temperament and insatiable lust for women, King Franz had conquered all islands to the north of Norwaland since he ascended the throne. With twenty-two women under his belt as wives, his abode was a colossal building located at the center of his kingdom. Within it sat the King, surrounded by his mother, first wife and six advisers.
“For nine years, you sent men to their graves trying to conquer that little southern Island. Perhaps your greatness was not meant for the south,” his mother remarked, much to his ire.
“Leave me be, mother. I will defeat those runts in time. The news of this new HN brings with it new opportunities.”
The commander who had brought him the news only moments prior still stood before the King, anxious not to get caught between them. He had more to say and, as such, was unable to beg the King’s leave to depart. Fortunately, it seemed the King had noticed, for he gave the commander a look as if to say, ‘more?’
Clearing his throat, the commander spoke, “According to the report, two highly placed officers were slain by this new HN during his inauguration. The reason why this happened is unclear; althoug
h my source tells me the officers challenged the HN’s claim.”
“Why, this is good news. Internal strife seems to be on the increase on that puny island,” replied King Franz in high spirits.
“Why don’t you wait to hear the full story?” his mother interjected.
“Don’t test me again, woman,” he growled. This was enough warning to shut his mother up. Mother or not, she was well aware of what he was capable of. She only wished he wasn’t so hot-headed. He was a great man. That was not in doubt. But if he could just exercise a bit more restraint, his greatness would know no bounds. She’d have to try more subtle means, but for now, she must know her place, she concluded.
“Go on, we do not have all day!” King Franz barked.
“Apologies, Highness. The description of this new HN is sketchy at best. However, it reminds me of the man that slew about three hundred of our swordsmen when we attempted an attack on their north eastern coast during the war.”
“You adamantly hold on to that dubious story! Do you truly think it wise to speak such lies in my presence? There is no way in this world and the next that one man could slay that many soldiers. I did not believe it then and I certainly do not believe it now.” The King was red-faced, brimming with magma-hot anger. This time, his wife spoke up.
“My king, husband, perhaps a sip of water? I fear you might have a seizure in this state.”
Ignoring her completely, he ordered the commander, “I will have no more of your insults. Go and prepare the soldiers for war. We shall sail for Lionea at a moment’s notice!”
The room was silent as the commander departed. The commander was a man of no ordinary rank, yet the King had shamed him before the council of advisers without restraint. The wizened-looking adviser who sat to the left of the King’s mother cleared his throat to begin one of his long and instructive speeches. The King, who had turned to look at him, knew that not even his anger could stop this man from speaking of things as he thought them. Resigned to listen, he held back the nasty retort that had almost escaped his lips.
“If I may interrupt, your Highness. Our success in conquering the northern nations was largely due to our numbers. If we must learn anything from the last war, it is that numbers alone, and even espionage, shall not suffice against Lionea. Five hundred thousand Norwans lost their lives to a mere twenty-five thousand Lioneans. If the reports by the Sejuits are to be believed, they suffered only very few losses. Their arrows, spears and chivalry are among many reasons as to why our numbers were futile. Is it then wise to use that same approach a second time? Bear in mind that if we lose again, a resounding message of Norwan weakness will be sent to even the Northern nations. In no time, they may unite and attack us−−”
“Let them!! We will feed their heads to their children who will work as our slaves,” the king hissed.
“We may not know this for sure, Highness. As was evident with Lionea, our war strategies need to be revised if success is to be guaranteed. If we are to embark on another war effort, we must draw up a sound strategy. Thank the gods that we have gathered reports about their training methods. Compared to theirs, our methods are indeed primitive. We need to put this knowledge to use by improving our methods and training our soldiers specifically to counter Lionean techniques. This should be our focus at this time. While we do this, we shall wait upon more news and insights on the state of things within Lionea. The Sejuits will definitely not let us down. These are the thoughts of your humble servant,” the old man concluded.
The other occupants of the room nodded in agreement as they looked at their King who was evidently much calmer than just moments ago. The old man’s words seemed to always have this effect on him.
“Kotoki. As always, you speak like one sent from the gods themselves. Although I am not akin to plans that require so much patience and heed, your logic is unarguably sound.” Switching his gaze to a much younger adviser, he said, “Inform the commander to disregard my order.”
“I will, your Highness,” he replied.
To the rest, the king announced, “The day is long over. It is time to retire to your wives. Council is dismissed.”
As they rose, each adviser exchanged brief words and left the room.
“Rest well, my great son and king,” his mother said, touching him lightly before proceeding to make her way out.
“Thank you mother,” he replied fondly, oblivious to the fact that he had threatened her a few moments ago.
“Will you need my company tonight?” his wife asked.
“No. I wish to be alone.”
“Very well then, dear husband. I will send a maid to clear up the trays and cups. Goodnight.”
He merely grunted in return as the silence that befell the room soothed him. Sleepily, he proceeded towards his bed chamber which shared a door with the council room. Before he could open the door, a comely maid came in to clear up the council room as his wife had promised. An instant yearning enveloped him as he watched the swaying movements of her buttocks. Like an animal in heat, he hurriedly moved towards her with the intent to take her right then and there.
A few nautical miles off the coast of Lionea was a gigantic ship with five hundred and thirty-six people, each with unique motives as they set course for Lionea. A carrier ship, the top deck bore the five-striped flag of the Nation while its starboard was inscribed with the words, ‘The Blue Whale.’ It was adequately named, for no other carrier ship west of the Raging Sea could boast of five decks that could house throngs of passengers numbering over twenty-five scores. At the east corner of the top deck were two painters, one who was coffee-skinned, and the other as pale as an albino.
“I cannot wait to behold the beauty of Lionea once again,” the first mused. “A land filled with beautiful wenches that would make a grown man cry.”
“You and your honey-sweetened rat-hole of a mouth. Should I take your word for it, I will certainly be disappointed upon arrival,” his companion replied dryly.
“Not this time boy. I tell you, I never thought I would use the word ‘voluptuous,’ but the ladies of Lionea leave me no choice. True enough, there are those who would cause a man to weep for their sheer ungainliness. But those never make it to the court for which we are bound. There is a catch, though. The crow-begotten rule of the Helesp insists that all officers be celibate until marriage. Only a certain group of Spyinme whose missions demand the use of their bodies is exempt, and this exception is only valid for the duration of such missions. In any case, you will do well to avoid those women, for only death can come out of such dealings.”
“What a silly rule; one with no apparent benefit I can think of. If the rumors are to be believed, things are fast changing in Lionea. Perhaps this rule has been blown away by the wind of change too?” asked the lighter of the two.
“Not that I am aware. Last I heard, recent dismissals from the court were as a result of it being violated. So I doubt that it has been abolished. We will find out in due time−five days more I reckon.”
Jin, a yellow-skinned man in his early twenties joined the conversation by remarking, “You used to reside in Lionea, true. However a commoner should not know so much about the Helesp, I would imagine. That you seem to know its intricacies and can still hear of its recent happenings tells me there is more to you than you have let on.”
“Well, you must have a fickle memory, Jin. I recall telling you I was once a Leade,” the first of the three retorted.
“It is you, Sire, whose memory is full of falsehoods. You told me no such thing, I can assure you,” Jin replied gaily.
“Well, I was somewhat of a celebrity Leade in my day. You see, most Lioneans believe, just as the legendary founder Hinary Rosento once believed, that the darker a person, the less intelligent he was. That a dark-skinned lad from an orphanage would make Leade was no mean feat. There were more than eighty boys in that orphanage. Of them, only fifteen of us were dark, and I was the darkest of them all. When HN Sen Rosento selected Ron Riten, Rosi Lite, and my humble
self to become Leades, word spread around like wildfire. The honor bestowed upon me became my sole motivation for becoming the best swordsman alive,” he added as he began to feel an eerie feeling of being watched. As he turned around, he took note of a bald-headed man, bedecked with a black sleeveless jacket and a black-star tattoo on his upper arm. The man innocuously smiled at him before returning his attention to a black-ash pigeon firmly perched on his shoulder.
It was near midnight at the East Shore Inn. Among the numerous inebriated merchants were a few Sentors, including one known as Raiden Ni. Renowned for his reticence and impressive listening skills, he was easily ignored in most conversations around him. This was his competitive advantage and on this night, it was to prove useful yet again.
“Those foolish governors of Souecon cannot smell the dung that the Norwans keep feeding to them,” one drunken merchant all but shouted to another. “They sell cheap raw materials to the Norwans who process them to finish goods and resell at over five hundred times the price!”
“Dung eaters!” yelled another, stirring up boisterous mirth among the other merchants who sat near them.
“Perhaps it is because they are a farm nation, lacking the skill to work the minerals to their finished forms.”
“It is more than that. I’ve heard it said that when the Norwan merchants first encountered the Souecans, they tricked them into believing that the raw minerals were responsible for the misfortunes which befell the Souecan people. Grateful to the gods, they let the Norwans rip them off. When they eventually discovered the ruse, the governors executed any Norwan merchant they could lay their hands upon. Unfortunately, it was too late to change the prices as the Norwans had begun to discover some of the minerals in their own land.”
Raiden Ni decided to join in, “You, my friend, are a great liar. For no execution could have happened without a resulting war between the two nations.”