13
Guest, II
I returned to my room, immediately closing the door behind me, then pacing around as I desperately tried to figure out what to show him. Was there remotely anything that I had which might be of interest to him? Damn you, Zoras! There were few things in this world other than curses, artefacts and potions that would interest that young man. You could throw him in a room full of the greatest beauties of the continent, and he would show no emotion other than absolute boredom.
I looked around the room, which was dimly lit by the crimson rays that peeked in through the cracks. The moon of this world was much brighter, and much bigger, than the one in our old world, and I wondered how people managed to sleep keeping the windows open with such a giant bulb shining on their faces, but I quickly pushed that thought away to some corner of my mind. No distractions, I thought, continuing my search, when my eyes landed on a familiar pouch resting in the corner of my table.
This was a bad idea—that I was sure of, but nevertheless, with nothing else of interest in my possession (at least to my knowledge), I took it down with me.
Was it risky? Absolutely. Yet my foolish self still took it down with me.
'This,' I said, as I showed him the pouch.
'This?' he asked, raising his brow, suspicious, as he took it from my hands.
I hadn't opened the pouch yet myself. For better, or for worse, I had no idea what was in it. As I stood in anticipation, Clint slowly pulled the thread of elastic that closed it, untying the knot, then pulling the mouth from either side, revealing what was inside.
It was a small, white crystal, shaped like a long cuboid with pyramids attached on each end, the size of my palm in length, and about two fingers wide. Clint examined it closely, rotating it as he held it between his thumb and index fingers.
'What is this?' he asked, turning towards me.
'No idea. That's why I called you.'
He looked back at the crystal, putting it flat on his hand and moving it up and down, as if checking its weight.
'Where did you find it?' he asked, not looking away.
'Somewhere…'
He looked up, narrowing his eyes at me, while I awkwardly looked back, cursing myself inside. 'What do you mean "somewhere"?!' I shouted in my head. Could I have been any more suspicious?
But surprisingly, Clint didn't press further, instead turning his gaze back at the crystal, this time moving his finger over its edges. His face remained numb, focused on the object in front of him, making it difficult for me to decipher what he thought.
I stood there, anxious. What if he figured out my secret?
He took out a strange looking instrument from his pockets, a small, thin rod with a needle on one of its ends, and a tiny piece of glass on the other.
'Let's see…'
He brought it closer to the crystal, the tip of the needle about to touch it.
But right before it could, a loud roar erupted outside, breaking his focus and mine as the two of us turned to the window in unison.
'Kill them! Kill them all!'
'Burn the nobles!'
Hoards of people marched through the streets, pitchforks and guns in their hands. Their eyes filled with rage, and hatred burned with passion in their hearts. They didn't wear anything fancy, simply shirts and trousers you could find anywhere, and a lot of them were dirty and torn.
'What is happening?' I muttered, my eyes fixated on the scene outside.
✴
'Don't forget our promise, Fjorcroft,' said Findorf, waving goodbye as he smiled. Everything went according to his plan, and all Fjorcroft could do now was stand and watch the chaos unfold.
Was it the same for the rest of them as well, he wondered. Was that why the rest of the table did nothing but sit quietly as crimes continued to increase and haunt every street of their country? Oh how he cursed them and their laziness and corruption, knowing no better. 'I'm sorry,' he said as he hid his face under his hat. He could only pity the Yard for what they would have to deal with for the coming days…or perhaps months.
'I haven't been home in ages,' he thought. This wasn't how he wanted his vacation to be, but he would take what he could get. Due to the very nature of his job, it was rare for him to meet his family. He had only recently bought a new house for them—they wouldn't be living in that shabby old apartment anymore, but moving there now, in the middle of a civil war that wouldn't stop till, in Findorf's own words, "all of evil of Alrasia was gone, and I was the only one left".
'I can't let Zoras know.'
Why I had a gun on me wasn't his concern anymore. He couldn't let me find out that I was the reason behind the start of this civil war. The three people from earlier, who assaulted the two of us, were men sent by Findorf. To have me shoot them was the goal. "Shot by a fallen noble, left to suffer"—it was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Of course, nobody knew that it was them who attacked us first, nor did they care. They've had enough. So far, they operated in secrecy, protecting themselves and their brethren as they took care of nobles from the shadows, but no more. Now, it was war.
His heart swelled with guilt as he saw their march of rage.
He hated the current nobility as much as they did. When they were stripped of their nobility because of his father's crimes, a part of him was happy, but at the end of the day, his father wasn't a true noble.
The nobles were supposed to take care of those below them.
The very title of nobility was given to those who did good for the country, but its hereditary nature became a plague.
'But still…not everyone was evil…'
There were those who were good. Lady Alcaria, for example. She was the very definition of a saint. A charitable person who would spend her wealth building and investing in orphanages, hospitals, and much more for the country she called her motherland—that was the Duchess of House Riverhold, Her Grace Alcaria Van Riverhold. Even others, Lord Reinhart of House Clister, or the Earl of House Valentine—they were all noble people, and they were all people who could get caught in the crossfire.
It was because the table had been so useless and incompetent in the first place that the people took matters in their own hands. The table was the zenith of authority in the country, right underneath the ruling monarch, yet they simply sat doing nothing, ignorant of what was happening right beneath their noses.
'...Not like I was any better.'
He navigated through the crowd, his face hidden under his hat and his head tilted slightly low. After a while, he stood in front of a familiar wooden door. He pushed it open. 'I'm home,' he said, closing it behind him. The weariness in his voice was prominent, and he slowly took off his shoes and sighed, before falling down on the floor.
'Brother Fjorcroft!' I exclaimed as I saw him, Clint standing right behind me. 'What is going on?'
He looked up, first at me, then at Clint.
'You better stay here for the night,' he said, before turning back to me. 'Where is your sister?'
'She's up in my room, still sleeping.'
'I see.'
He pushed himself up, and with heavy steps he walked upstairs.
'Brother, wait!' I said, stopping him halfway. 'You should rest first. You're tired.'
His eyes were barely open. It was painfully clear that he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Who knew what he had gone through over the past few days. I didn't even have any idea of what his job entailed, only that the post he held in the government was of great importance, but if it demanded so much of him, should he keep going?
…
I shook off those thoughts. I had no obligation to think about what he should and should not do. He was Zoras' brother, not mine. I wouldn't be here for long…or at least I hoped not to be; it was better for me to not get close to these people. Of course, the love I had for my wife and my longing to be with her would overpower any attachment I grew in this world, but I would still rather not be in a position in which I cared.
'You're right,' he said in the same weary tone. 'After this.'
He entered my room. Turning towards Lune, who laid peacefully in bed, unaware of whatever had unfolded, or perhaps she was aware…I wouldn't know. From his pockets, he took out a glass bottle. In it, was some strange, purple liquid. He pulled her lips open and gently poured the liquid in her mouth, some of it falling from the side, but most of it making its way in. After the bottle was empty, he looked at her in anticipation, and somewhat anxious.
'Come on,' he uttered under his breath.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
'What the…what time is it?' she asked, trying to push herself up.
'Finally!' said Fjorcroft, immediately wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight.
'What the—!' she exclaimed, confused and taken back, as was I when I looked at the two of them, when it finally hit me.
'Don't tell me…'
'Fjorcroft,' I called out. 'Would she have not woken up if not for that potion?'
He didn't say a word, but from his silence and his trembling fingers, I had my answer.
And here I was, thinking that she was simply tired.
'What happened there,' I asked.
'It's a long story,' said Fjorcroft, taking his hands off of Lune and getting up on his feet.
'For now, just don't leave…' but before he could finish, Fjorcroft collapsed on the floor, his fall followed by a large "thud" sound as both I rushed towards him. Lune still had a lingering lethargy from waking up, but she picked him up on her shoulders, shaking herself awake as she handed him to me.