by DB King
A Varnu, eh? he thought. I’ve only ever met one of their people. And that was a long, long time ago.
Arima knew very little of the Varnu, save for what most people already knew about them. They were a primitive bunch who worshipped nature and maintained no real cities as they moved around the northlands, following the great herds of bison and prowling the shores for passing pods of whales. They were said to be possessed of strange magical powers that were alien, even to the brightest minds in the Imperial Academy.
Then again, that last bit was only a rumor. Arima was the last person on Moyatani to know anything about magic.
Arima raised a thoughtful brow as he gestured for the courtly young man to sit down across him. “Very well, I am not one to question the authority of the Imperial Academy. Tell me: what is this ‘Anomaly’ that you speak of?”
The Imperial Academy, despite its name, was actually incredibly uninvolved with the affairs of the state. The only authority they deferred to was the authority of the Emperor, who was too scared to order them to do anything. The Shogunate usually distanced itself from the Academy, but it had been known to spend tremendous amounts of gold to hire a powerful mage. The Imperial Academy’s only role, if any, was the preservation of knowledge and wisdom, and the continuation of arcane education. Beyond that, they hardly did anything. Hence their non-intervention in the looming war, which—despite its scale—would hardly affect them.
A pity, Arima mused. They hold so much power and yet they refuse to use it for the benefit of the many.
Shinji nodded before rolling up the academy’s insignia, which was etched upon a single scroll, glowing with magical energies. At least, Arima figured it might have been magic. He’d never seen blue ink before and neither had he seen any glowing ink before. The young man bowed his head and squatted right across Arima. “Several months ago, the Grand Council detected the presence of an incredibly powerful, unclassified Magical Locus. Its presence was felt all throughout the nation—many mages felt it. While many in the council believe it to be some kind of deviant-type Magical Beast, there are some who feel the need to investigate its true nature, before reporting back to the council.”
Arima nodded. “Are you talking about the Wendigo?”
Everyone in these parts knew about that particular incident. No one really saw it, since Jin went ahead and dealt with the creature before it could reach them, but no one could dispute the fact that it had been stopped—somehow. The unnatural ice and frost that’d heralded its arrival simply disappeared. Jin came back a few hours afterward, looking all torn and ragged. The boy didn’t speak much of his encounter, though his eyes spoke for him well enough. No one pried and everyone simply went on with their lives, silently, but fervently, thankful for Jin’s heroic act.
Shinji’s eyes widened. The young man almost made to lean forward, but seemed to hold himself back at the last moment. Arima noted how he forced his breathing to die down, but failed miserably. The excitement was clear in his eyes. “The Wendigo?”
Arima nodded. “Yes, the creature is known to many of us here. It comes in the winter, in the cold, in the dead of night, and it comes with the madness of cannibalism. Many of my veteran guards might’ve encountered it in their youth. I’ve never really seen the creature itself, but even I know of the stories. And I experienced the terror and despair its most recent appearance brought with it.”
The young Varnu cleared his throat, coughing into his fist. It was all just an act, Arima noted. The way the boy’s hands shook, the cold sweat that rolled down the side of his face, and the sudden quickness of his breath was all too telling. Shinji was anxious, maybe even a little frightened. But he was also excited about something. How odd. He came all the way here because of that?
“The Imperial Academy has classified The Wendigo as a mythical-class deviant-type Magical Beast, making it one of the most powerful creatures to ever live in all of Moyatani history. Its ability to control the weather on an unprecedented scale has been noted to be beyond any elemental Magical Beast, beyond anything that’s ever been recorded,” Shinji explained, and spoke in a tone that belied the shortness of his breath. “The Academy doesn’t even know what it looks like. The eyewitness accounts are… not exactly conclusive.”
The excited young man paused for a moment. And Arima noted the strange colors that seemed to flare out of him. Was it magic? He wasn’t so sure, but that was the only explanation he could think of. Then again, the young man didn’t appear to host the same tattoos as Jin.
Shinji released a long and shaky breath. The flares around his body had outright turned to sparks. “You’re saying it’s been spotted here? How come the village is still standing?”
Arima nodded. “It’s been spotted here and it’s been driven away many, many months ago. My ward, Murasaki Jin, used his awesome powers to defend the village and defeat the creature. The blanket of ice and snow, and the veil of dark and heavy clouds, dispersed in a single instance. And we knew, right then and there, that Jin was triumphant over the Wendigo.”
The room seemed to shrink all around them as Shinji leaned in. His eyes seemed darker, despite the sunlight shining in through the windows. Arima gulped and swallowed an empty lump in his throat. The young Varnu’s face was a mix of troubled, anxious, excited, and indignant. When he spoke, his voice was filled with venom.
“What do you mean, my lord? Are you saying this… Murasaki Jin has managed to defeat a deviant-type Magical Beast, a feat no other mage in the thousand-year history of Moyatani has ever done before? Is that what you’re saying, my lord?”
Arima raised an eyebrow. This boy was problematic. He really did not like the way this visitor was talking about his nephew. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying, Miura Shinji. The Wendigo came with ice and winter at its beck and call. My nephew ventured out into the deep woods to confront the creature. He returned, and the threat disappeared. Therefore, the Wendigo was vanquished! Do not dare question Jin’s honor, boy!”
It was only after he finished speaking did Arima notice the fact that he had leaned forward and crushed the fragile teacup in his right hand. His palm bled. It stung, but the pain was more of a minor annoyance than anything real. What hurt more than the shards of porcelain, embedded on his hand, was the implied slight upon his nephew. What sort of unwashed, uneducated brigand would- ah, right. Hirata’s quite far from any major settlement. This Varnu—strange though the thought is—probably looks at us as though we were mere country bumpkins to be laughed at.
“I mean no disrespect, my lord,” he said. “Truly, I did not mean to offend you. I also did not mean to impede your nephew’s honor.”
The dark-skinned boy raised his hands in the air in deference and surrender. But Arima was well aware of the unspoken threat, of the true difference in power between them. Mages were still worshipped as gods in several, primitive regions, where good education and good governance was simply non-existent. This boy could probably kill him and every other person in Hirata if he wanted to, and the only thing stopping him were the old laws and Imperial Mandates, and the other mages that would definitely hunt him down if he overstepped his boundaries, considering his connections to the Imperial Academy.
“However,” Shinji continued, “I simply find it hard to believe that a mage—one whose name is not even known to us in the Academy—would be capable of defeating a deviant-type Magical Beast. It’s simply not possible. Perhaps, he was able to divert its course, or perhaps, he was able to annoy the beast enough into believing that attacking this village wouldn’t be worth the effort.”
Arima scowled at the young man but said nothing.
“Whatever the case,” Shinji said with a false smile, “I would very much like to meet this nephew of yours, my lord. It is not often we hear of a mage, who took on a deviant-type and lived to tell about it. Almost every encounter with one, you see, almost always ends in a gruesome and terrible death—or just outright madness. This Murasaki Jin, whom you speak of, must be a powerful magic user
indeed.” The mage tipped his head, but Arima did not miss the slight glint in his eyes. Shinji was up to something, and Arima wasn’t quite certain if that something was good or bad. Then again, shady things tended to happen whenever the Imperial Academy got too involved with anything—really, weird things tended to happen whenever magic was involved. “Right, I also heard the news about your son having magical potential. Is this true, my lord?”
Arima stiffened at the mention of Ebisu, who still hadn’t returned after a week of his expedition with Jin, whose only explanation for the whole thing was that their little escapade was something every single mage would have to undergo at some point in their lives and it was better for Ebisu if he did so as soon as possible under Jin’s guidance. Still, he trusted his nephew with his own life. That boy was gifted with wisdom far beyond his years, with knowledge and power that was far beyond anything he’d ever known. At times, it was almost as though his nephew was an old and wizened scholar, who just happened to be stuck in the body of a child. But that hardly sounded right. But then how’d he come up with all those war-machines and construction techniques if he was just a child?
Jin couldn’t even be considered a teenager yet.
Arima shook his head and wrung his mind out of his own thoughts. “Huh? Err… yes, my son showed potential for the magical arts and has been learning under Murasaki Jin for a while now. I don’t know how it works or how they’ve been training, but I’ve seen my five-year-old son perform feats of strength and agility that trained soldiers and warriors would struggle to match.”
Shinji chuckled and pulled out a peeling knife. “We mages are born with the innate ability to regenerate. While I understand that every human being is also possessed of the same thing, the regeneration and healing of mages is much faster than that of normal people.”
He took the peeling knife and sliced open his palms, drawing blood and opening up a good amount of skin. However, the wound didn’t stay for long as it quickly closed. Only a single drop was spilled. All traces of the wound had practically disappeared, leaving nothing—not even a faint outline or a rough scar. “When people train their muscles, this creates miniature tears within, which is what causes the pain you normal humans feel after working manual labor for too long, without rest. Mages, however, do not suffer this pain as our muscles heal faster than they tear. Thus, we’re quicker to develop our physical bodies to heights beyond our years. Even then, the magic in our bodies allows us to grow far above the limits of normal humans.”
Shinji took out a piece of rock, which Arima recognized as one of the decorative rocks he kept near his pond, and began squeezing it with one hand. It was a small piece that was just about large enough to peak through his closed fingers. “This unnatural growth is why mages are far more powerful than any human could ever be—with some exceptions of course.”
The decorative rock shattered in Shinji’s hand. The dust and debris fluttered down the floor and scattered. “No normal human could do this. Your son will be able to—in time, given enough training.”
The mage dusted his hands and pulled a scroll out of one of his many pockets. Like the seal of the Imperial Academy, the new scroll was glowing with strange and arcane energies that Arima was too old to try and understand. It would probably be interesting to Jin.
Shinji cleared his throat, coughing in his hand. “Anyway, I simply wished to inform you that—should the boy wish it—he will have a place in the Imperial Academy. After all, he is of noble stock.”
The mage handed the scroll over to Arima, who took it with a single raised eyebrow before setting it down on the table. “I appreciate the offer, and I will certainly consider it. But let us return to the matter at hand. How exactly are you going to investigate this Anomaly you mentioned? The Wendigo incident happened many months ago and a lot of the populace has happily moved on from that nightmare. You can ask Jin yourself. I’m sure he’d be delighted to tell you exactly how it happened, but you’ll have to wait until he comes back from his expedition with my son.”
Shinji raised an eyebrow. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Well, I believe I’ll start by tracing the origins of the Anomaly. Such a strong magical signature would not have fully dissipated yet and should still linger where it originated. After that, I’ll ask around the village to see if anyone’s seen anything. The Imperial Academy is interested in any and all information regarding the matter at hand. Once your nephew arrives, I would like to question him as well… if I have your permission, my lord.”
Arima waved a hand. “I give you permission to roam my lands and investigate whatever Anomaly you speak of. However, as for my nephew, you’ll have to ask him yourself. I dare not presume Jin’s wishes.”
“Are you not the lord of this manor?” Shinji gestured all around him. “Are you not his superior? Are you not in command of him? He is your ward, is he not?”
Arima chuckled, before turning toward the opened window behind him. The walls were nearly finished. After another five or six months, Hirata would be impregnable. And it would all be because of his nephew, Murasaki Jin, whose mind contained knowledge that—frankly—terrified him. He then turned toward Shinji and chuckled once more. “Do you know who designed those walls and the weapons we’ve placed near them?”
Shinji shook his head. “I must confess: I’ve never seen such fortifications before. They are, dare I say, engineering marvels—even the Emperor’s own palace does not boast such walls. And then there are the weapons atop them… I honestly wasn’t even aware they were weapons at all, until you said so, my lord.” The mage bowed his head. “No, my lord, I do not know who designed them. But—dare I ask—how does this aid in answering my query?”
“Jin designed all of those,” Arima said. “He collected craftsmen, engineers, and architects from neighboring cities, offered them refuge and safety in Hirata, and in exchange they helped him with his weapons and structures. Have you noticed the drainage systems?”
Shinji shook his head.
Arima continued. “He designed those as well. If Jin hadn’t arrived and offered his wisdom and knowledge, Hirata would’ve remained a simple, backwater farming village, filled with dirty peasants and rice. Now, we have schools and roads and hospitals. We even have lights in the streets to illuminate the darkness of the night. All these things happened because of Jin.”
Shinji was silent, his eyes wide in disbelief.
“And don’t even get me started on the fact that he’s a very powerful mage,” Arima continued. “And, even if Jin wasn’t a mage, I could never truly consider myself his superior—not even when I am the lord of this manor and the lord of Hirata. So, no, Miura Shinji, I cannot simply order Jin around as though he was some common servant or slave.”
Shinji nodded. His eyes seemed to grow darker than they already were. “I see… then I eagerly await your nephew’s and your son’s safe return from their expedition.”
Arima nodded. He wasn’t sure if what he wanted to do next was wise. Jin surely would have protested if he was here. Miura Shinji was too suspicious. There was something off about him, and it wasn’t just the fact that he was a mage. There was something in his eyes—something dark and dreadful.
And yet, Jin wasn’t here, and Arima could only do what he felt to be right. “I feel the same. And, as a token of my hospitality, I invite you to stay in my home, Miura Shinji, as a guest. You shall partake in my food, water, and my wine, and I shall shelter you beneath my roof and clothe you in my clothes.”
Shinji stood up, lowered his head, and prostrated. He spoke with his face planted firmly on the floor. It was an act Arima never thought he’d ever see a mage ever do, considering their powers. “And I humbly accept this honor, my lord.”
But, maybe, just maybe, he was a little hard on his judgement of the boy. After all, he showed the proper respects owed to the lord of the manor. He couldn’t possibly be such a bad person. Shinji was still definitely suspicious, but maybe he was different from all the other mages who used their powers for
their own good, terrorizing villages and causing mayhem. After all, he was a mage of the Imperial Academy. They were a civilized bunch—educated and courteous, all of them pulled from noble stock.
“Well then, Miura Shinji,” Arima said, before clapping his hands once. A servant walked in and bowed. “This servant will take you to your room. Tomorrow, you may begin your investigations.”
As Shinji bowed, Arima spoke grimly, “I must warn you, however, boy, to never insult Jin ever again. I know you’re powerful—all mages are. But he is beyond you, so mark my words.”
There was another glint in the young Varnu’s eyes as he stood. “Your words are marked, my lord.”
Chapter 9
“You saw the Wendigo?” Miura Shinji asked, a single eyebrow raised as he propped himself against the side of the doorway of some farmer’s cozy little home.
Mornings were coming later and later. Nights grew longer and daylight seemed to flicker out earlier. It was the dawn of autumn and, as such, Shinji wasn’t quite sure if interviewing people this early in the morning was a good idea. He wasn’t exactly a morning person himself. Tea made it a little more bearable, but he’d rushed out so hastily to begin investigations he’d forgotten to drink even water.
Luckily, his first respondent seemed to be in the mood for talking, despite having just risen from his sleep.
The old man nodded and yawned. He stretched his arms both ways and closed his eyes afterward. “I was in the woods, gathering mushrooms and root vegetables, when this… sudden cold fell about me. I saw snow at a time when there shouldn’t be any. It was falling from the sky, it was. The clouds grew dark and heavy, and a fell presence was there. I can’t explain it, but you have to be there to know the feeling of it.”