Power Conspiracy

by Pedro Urvi

  She stared at two women who were passing. They were wearing elegant silk dresses, restrained, but of obviously good quality.

  “They’re so lovely, with that dark straight hair and that lovely olive skin. I feel so … strange here … pale, with freckles and red hair. I look sickly beside them. Apart from the fact that their bodies are a lot curvier than mine.” She stared after them, then suddenly tripped and almost fell.

  Egil seized her arm and held her steady, then smiled at her sweetly. “You have a different kind of beauty.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think I’m beautiful at all, much less attractive beside them.” She was staring at two other young women who were passing, wearing silk dresses which emphasized their curves.

  “Of course you are,” Egil assured her.

  “Why do the men wear those long white tunics?” she asked.

  “They’re called togas. Mostly worn by the men of the capital, and the nobles and the wealthy traders.”

  “Oh … and … why don’t they carry weapons?”

  “It’s not good manners to carry weapons in public in this kingdom. As a rule, it’s only soldiers who carry them.”

  “Now that really is strange.”

  Egil gave her a wink. “They carry daggers under their togas.”

  “Ah, now that sounds better. What a weird people.”

  “We’re all rather different, even us.”

  “Us?” Nilsa repeated. “But we’re all absolutely normal.”

  “Well, that’s your point of view,” he said with a smile, “but it’s not impartial at all. For a citizen of Erenal, the Norghanians are really strange, and to a certain extent we could even be considered peculiar.”

  She was thoughtful. “Mmm … I suppose you can’t say we’re very normal, if you think about it … I see what you mean.”

  They continued their stroll around the center of the city. It had nothing in common with a Norghanian one. Nor did it even resemble Norghania, the capital, whose buildings and streets were far rockier, less finished, and less beautiful architecturally. Here oval shapes were visible, together with cupolas, even great round buildings with endless arched windows. The materials were showier, the walls and roofs well- tended and carefully constructed to impress passers-by. In Norghania, on the other hand, all larger buildings were rectangular or square, made of solid rock, more or less bare of ornament and with no refinements. They served their purpose, which was first and foremost to protect against the ever-present winter cold of the area. As for architectural beauty, Norghanians were not particularly interested in that. They preferred their buildings to be functional, and to avoid dying of cold.

  “This city is one of the most important cultural centers in Tremia,” Egil explained.

  “Cultural?”

  “Over the years Erenalia has become a paradise for the study and development of the arts, culture and knowledge, with their King behind it.”

  “I have to admit, we don’t exactly have a lot of study and culture …”

  “Yes, it’s a shame. Our kings have always been more interested in conquest and gold than in culture and science. It happens in most of the kingdoms of Tremia. That’s why Erenalia is so special.”

  “I can see you’re passionate about this place.”

  “I’ve read a lot about this great city. It’s a beacon for the advancement of culture. I’ve always wanted to visit it.”

  “Well, your dream’s come true.”

  Egil nodded. “Partially at least. What I wanted was to come and live and study here.”

  “Oh, well … that’s going to be complicated, seeing who you are …”

  “You can say that again,” he chuckled.

  “Who knows, maybe someday, when everything’s quieter in our lives.”

  He smiled and nodded. As they were passing in front of it, he pointed at a great open amphitheater in the form of a semicircle. “What a beauty that building is,” he said.

  “What a lovely place. Strange shape, though. What’s it for?”

  “People sit over there” – he pointed to the rows of seats of white stone – “and over there on the stage they put on plays, poetry recitals, speeches about politics and culture, metaphorical performances and other kinds, dances, and so forth.”

  Nilsa’s eyes were wide. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Unable to restrain himself, Egil laughed cheerfully. “Let’s say all kinds of cultural works are performed for the enjoyment of the citizens.”

  “By ‘cultural’ you mean folklore, ancient stories, legends and that sort of thing?”

  “That’s right, and traditional dances and other kinds of didactic representation.”

  “Didac— what?”

  “Didactic, something that teaches you something, something you can learn from.”

  “Oh … yes, I see. Well, certainly the building is beautiful, and I wouldn’t mind sitting down to watch a performance or listen to an ode.”

  “It must look even more beautiful when it’s full of people,”

  “Have you ever seen a play in a building like this?”

  “No, alas. One day I hope to be able to enjoy one. But I’ve seen pictures in books, and I’ve always thought it was a wonderful idea for promoting culture and a great benefit for all citizens.”

  “Maybe you can watch a play while we’re here.”

  Egil shook his head. “If everything goes according to plan, we won’t be here for very long.”

  “I see. We’ll run away, like souls blown away by the icy northern winds.”

  “That’s right, and the breath of the gods had better be strong.”

  “You can see so much trouble ahead that we’re going to have to get out of here at top speed?”

  “It’s the most likely scenario.”

  “Well, we might be lucky and everything’ll come out as planned, and we won’t have to leave at a run.”

  Egil looked very doubtful. “You never know … we might be lucky,” he said with the ghost of a smile.

  They wandered through the higher part of the city, and although they attracted some attention, they were not bothered by anyone, either citizens or the soldiers they passed. They saw several groups patrolling the wide avenues in groups of two dozens, and Nilsa noticed the way they were dressed. They wore chainmail armor over light green tunics which ended in skirts with leather protective strips. They carried javelins in one hand, and in the other slightly oval, rectangular shields which covered half their bodies. At their waists they carried short double-edged swords.

  “They look as if they’re wearing skirts,” Nilsa giggled.

  “It’s the custom here to wear long tunics.”

  The officers, on the other hand, wore armor of overlapping iron plates instead of chainmail, and the green of their skirted tunics was a more intense shade. Their leather boots only reached their ankles, so that their legs were left naked up to their skirts.

  “If it weren’t for those rectangular helmets that let you see their faces,” Nilsa said, “they’d look like an army of women.”

  “You mean because of the skirts?”

  “And because of their legs. They’re hairless.”

  Egil chuckled. “In this culture they shave their legs.”

  “The men do?”

  “They do: legs, beards, armpits …”

  “Seriously? I can’t believe it!”

  “It’s the local custom.”

  “Well, I never. Now that, I really think is shocking.”

  Egil laughed. Different cultures, different customs.”

  “Soldiers with shaven legs and skirts. They’re not going to believe me when I tell them that in Norghana.”

  “Well, the Army of Erenal is one of the most widely feared.”

  “Nooooo! Really?” Nilsa said as she watched another group of soldiers marching down the middle of the avenue.

  “It’s true. Their generals are famous for their advanced military strategies. The formations th
ey use and their martial intelligence are very widely recognized. As I understand it, the study of the art of war is King Dasleo’s favorite subject. He’s a great benefactor of the Library of Bintantium. In it there are scholars devoted night and day to the study and advancement of the military arts. They’re known as the Master Archivists.”

  “Oh, that’s strange. So, King Dasleo’s a warlike king?”

  “No, very much the opposite. He’s a lover of the arts and of culture. He’s managed to make his nation enviable as far as knowledge, science, art and culture are concerned. To achieve this, he’s used a very interesting approach. He studies war as if it were another art form. He has an army that’s not too numerous, but it’s very well trained, led by officers with vast military knowledge. They’re both feared and respected. That’s why King Caron of Zangria, who certainly can be described as more warlike, has never been able to conquer them. In fact, it’s been a long time since he tried to escalate the conflict between the two nations, because he’s well aware that he’d almost certainly be defeated.”

  “I see, he’d rather look in our direction, seeing that we’re not as advanced on the military side …”

  “On the military side or on many others,” Egil added. He pointed at the magnificent buildings beside them, decorated with emblems and shields in a variety of green shades.

  Suddenly Nilsa stopped. She was gaping at a building that was both large and majestic.

  “Is that … the library?”

  Egil, by her side, looked up at the building with its high walls and arches and roof in the form of a cupola.

  “It’s impressive, but that’s not the library, it’s the cathedral. It was built in the upper part of the city so that it would be closer to the heavens. From what I’ve read.”

  “And what’s the difference which part of town it was built in? Don’t the Gods listen wherever you are?”

  “Well … there are all kinds of gods and all kinds of believers and followers in Tremia who have different ideas about that.”

  “Well, our Gods, the Ice Gods, listen to us from their frozen world, and it doesn’t matter whether we’re at the top of a mountain or deep in a valley.”

  “It seems that here in Erenal, the bigger the building and the better the part of the city it’s in, the more closely their Gods listen,” Egil told her, not without irony.

  Nilsa smiled broadly. “Well, with this enormous cathedral at the top of the city, I’m sure they have no trouble listening. And solve all the problems of their faithful.”

  The temple was an impressive work of architecture. They saw believers going in to pray, and others coming out looking as though they had shed a great weight from their shoulders.

  In the high part of the city were statues, fountains, parks and gardens and perfectly cobbled avenues on whose sides rose the palaces of the nobles and the court, together with several buildings with a military air. At the end of the great avenue was King Dasleo’s castle, which looked more like something out of a fairy-tale than a fortress erected to withstand a permanent siege.

  Nilsa shook her head. “I don’t know whether this castle is quite real …”

  “It is, I can assure you, and it’s said to have amazing gardens.”

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure they have the most beautiful collection of roses and jasmine in Tremia. I’m not so sure whether it would withstand an attack by the Hosts of the Frozen Continent.”

  “I’d imagine it would. I don’t think Dasleo, no matter how much he might be a benefactor of the arts, would neglect such an important military aspect. Particularly as the study of war is one of his passions.”

  “I hope so, for his own good and for the good of his subjects. Look what happened to us in Norghania.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Our capital might be stoical, grey and rocky, not beautiful in the least compared to this, but it stood firm.”

  “It certainly did,” Egil said. He glanced up at the sun’s position in the sky. “Now we’d better go down to the lower part.”

  “Back to the slums?” Nilsa protested. “Haven’t we had enough of grubby surroundings and all sorts of tangles?”

  Egil laughed. “You’re quite right. But don’t worry, we’re not to going to go down as far as that. The lower part of Erenalia is very much like this one. A little less elegant maybe, but that’s where the traders, craftsmen and scholars live.”

  “Oh, good, they’re not slums. But they must have slums here too, or is everything so nice they’ve got rid of the bad areas of the city?”

  “No. In every city, however advanced – as in the case of Erenalia – slums and poorer parts still exist. Here they’re a little better-concealed. But they do exist, along with the individuals of ill-repute who frequent them.”

  “Fine. That makes me feel easier, all this splendor has gone to my head,” Nilsa said with a giggle.

  Egil laughed again. “On we go. There’s a lot to do, and time’s of the essence.”

  Chapter 33

  A few paces behind, on the other side of the street, Valeria and Gerd were following Nilsa and Egil, who were on their way to the lower part of the city. This seemed to be built on the side of a mountain, even though it was not apparent from the outside.

  “This city is amazing,” Gerd commented to Valeria.

  “It certainly is. It makes you wish you lived here.”

  “Just what I was thinking … all these majestic buildings, columns, statues, gardens – it doesn’t even look real. And it’s all so well cared-for.”

  “Look, they have people to do that,” Valeria said. She was pointing to a group of people working in a public garden.

  “We certainly don’t have much of that in Norghana.”

  “Well, in Norghana we have more beer, and I bet we’re better at letting our hair down than these people.” She winked at him. “They seem rather boring.”

  Gerd laughed. “Exactly. Besides, this lot looks as if they prefer wine to beer.”

  “At least they’re not paying any attention to us,” Valeria said gratefully. “That should avoid unnecessary complications.”

  “Yeah, they seem used to foreigners. We passed some ebony-skinned Noceans with southern clothes a while back, and there ahead are some redheads who must be from the kingdom of Irinel.”

  “They could be Norghanians. We have a few redheads too: Nilsa, to take the obvious example.”

  “Oh yeah, true.”

  “So, you’d stay on here to live?”

  “I don’t think so … it’s all very nice and magnificent and enormous, but I’m Norghanian, and a farm boy. I prefer our land, our forests and the snow … it doesn’t snow here the whole year long … I think I’d just stay for a while and then go back home. What about you?”

  “Me … well, I think I could certainly get used to all this monumental beauty and culture. Yeah, I think so.”

  “Wouldn’t you miss your family?”

  Valeria’s face changed. It lost its usual cheerfulness, and she turned serious. “No. Not at all.”

  Gerd noticed, and apologized. “I didn’t mean to intrude …. forgive me.”

  Valeria waved it off. “Don’t worry, it’s just that I don’t get along very well with my family … with my father …”

  “Oh … I didn’t know that.”

  “Not many people do. I think I’ve only told Lasgol, and I see he kept it to himself like the gentleman he is.”

  “Yeah, Lasgol’s very discreet. He doesn’t comment on anybody’s private life.”

  “That’s why I trust him. That and because he’s a dear.”

  Gerd looked a little uneasy. “You know that … he’s …”

  “Take it easy, I know he’s with Astrid. Or rather is on his way to rescue Astrid. Nilsa’s told me the whole story. That does him credit, and as far as I’m concerned it makes him even more heavenly. Doesn’t it?”

  Gerd shrugged. “He’s the best of friends, that’s all I can say.” />
  Valeria smiled. “Exactly.”

  The Grand Library of Bintantium was even larger and more spectacular than the Cathedral of the Heavens they had left behind at the top of the city. This was said to be because King Dasleo favored science and culture over religion. In fact, he had ordered the cathedral to be built in the higher part, closer to the heavens, and the library below, nearer the earth and knowledge, rather than beliefs and faith.

  “It’s a real architectural gem. Fantastic, fascinating,” Egil said as he stared at the enormous building

  Nilsa could not stand still from pure joy “Phew! It’s even larger and more spectacular that the cathedral, and that was incredible enough.”

  “It makes you feel really small in front of something like that,” Egil said with a sigh.

  “It’s logical that you should feel small, you’re a little chap to start with, and compared to this gigantic building …”

  Egil gave her a twisted smile. “It was symbolic.”

  “Oh …. yes … of course.” Nilsa giggled in embarrassment. She had not really understood.

  Egil smiled. “It’s fantastic … impressive … and to think that it’s full of knowledge, full of thousands and thousands of tomes and Erudites who study here day and night to advance in knowledge. Truly admirable. Fantastic beyond fantastic!”

  “Erudites?”

  “Here they’re called Librarians, and they live with the aim of learning, of advancing their knowledge of all subjects.”

  “In there?”

  “Yes, they hardly ever leave the Grand Library precinct.”

  “As if it was a religious order?”

  “That’s right, but with a different purpose.”

  “I don’t know … it seems a bit boring to me.”

  Egil laughed out loud. “I can imagine!”

  They stopped in front of the huge, ornamented double door and turned to see where Valeria and Gerd were. They were on the other side of the street, taking in all the beauty and sheer scale of the building from a distance. Egil gave a nod, and their two colleagues went on walking. The plan was that they would keep watch and check the surroundings, noting the positions of the watch-guards and the patrols which circled the Library perimeter.