Volume 1 - CH 10

Gishzida lived on top of a tree that was far away from the temple. The priests’ houses were built on top of trees so the slaves of the Golden Forest could not reach them, and one had to use ngak to travel to and from them if no one lowered a ladder for access.

Renier looked around this way and that as she observed the priests’ houses. The hem of her dress kept getting caught on the roots, however, so she eventually tied it up to her knees so she could walk unhindered. She had never worn a dress so long that it trailed across the ground before now.

“Won’t you hurry up? You need to dress up beautifully, just like Armanu, and participate in the festival come spring, but you’ll end up tripping over your skirt with every step you take at this rate. What are you even looking at?”

“I-it’s nothing, Lady Minnè. I was just so curious about the priests’ houses.”

“Are you some kind of country bumpkin? —they’re nothing much to look at,”

Minnè, who was holding Renier’s hand, rebuked.

Priests built their own houses with ngak. They apparently poured their hearts and souls into creating their houses because one’s house was a good indicator of one’s skill in using ngak.

This was why the Golden Forest was littered with strange houses that Renier couldn’t even imagine ever seeing outside the forest. A house made from white clay, a house made from sparkly black stone, a house made from wool. There was even a house that had been made by twisting some branches in bizarre shapes. And it wasn’t unusual to find that the priests had painted all the outer walls of their house with expensive purple or violet dye.

“Ack! L-Lady Minnè! T-there’s something strange over there!”

Renier dropped her jaw when she belatedly spotted a very peculiar house peeking through the exuberant branches and leaves. Hidden between the branches was a house that seemed to be simultaneously transparent and opaque, like water and like ice, and like a ball made of some kind of matter that she couldn’t identify.

“That’s Lord Gishzida’s house. It’s not very large, but it’s as amazing as the temple itself when it comes to how it operates on ngak.”

Renier swallowed the urge to reply, “It looks even more amazing than the temple to me.” This was because Minnè looked sour as she praised Lord Gishzida. Minnè continued,

“The Lord Galtir would have killed you on the spot yesterday if Lord Gishzida hadn’t stepped up on your behalf. Be sure to thank him properly when you go up. Baras.”

Renier’s body floated up into the air. The top of her head hit a tree branch before she could even yelp. She struggled for a while as she did her best to keep her balance in midair. She heard Minnè chuckling.

“I’ll come pick you up later this evening.”

“My house is made out of water. Curious, isn’t it?”

Gishzida smiled as he offered Renier a seat. Renier was still quivering from excitement as she touched the walls. It sloshed around when she touched it, but it didn’t wet her hands or clothes, as if there was some kind of thin membrane surrounding it. It reminded her of the bed of wind that Gishzida had created previously.

Fortunately, the floors were made out of wood. She would’ve been too dizzy to take a single step if the floor had been just as squishy and sloshy as the walls.

There was less furniture in the house than she’d expected. But the few pieces of furniture that Gishzida did have —like his table, desk, and bed— were very smooth despite the grains in the wood being so close together and very luxurious, because they had been made from juniper wood, and the lines of the delicate fish painted on his crimson vase and the designs etched around it were smooth and straight.

Everything was subtly beautiful despite also being elegant and tidy. The house spoke volumes of Lord Gishzida’s tastes and his discerning eye.

There was a large lump of clay with a damp cloth over it in the inner room that seemed to be his workshop, and there were also piles of sacks that seemed to contain herbs.

A couple of nugigs wearing white habits were busily organizing the sacks of herbs and rolling the clay into flat slabs inside the workroom. None of the spared Renier a single glance even when she peeked inside and bowed silently. But Renier wasn’t surprised because Lord Gishzida had reacted this why the first she’d met him too, though it did make her feel a little awkward.

Renier sat down and surveyed her surroundings for a very long time. The sunlight filtering through the leaves glowed white as it passed through the translucent walls. However, Renier couldn’t see anything outside the walls because of the way the water was splashing around as it moved.

“This is incredible……,”

Renier marveled with her eyes wide open, prompting Gishzida to grin and shake his head no while saying,

“Incredible? I simply applied water to my walls because I mainly research fire-type ngak. What would I do if I incurred the galtir’s wrath by accidentally setting my house on fire?”

“Oh, yes. I see!”

Renier looked dazed as she nodded back vigorously. Gishzida’s chuckling grew a little louder.

“I study herbs a bit too, and sometimes I end up smoking them while fiddling around with this and that. There’s nothing better than having a house made of water when it comes to making sure the stench won’t spread around. I actually thought I might go bald while making the house because I had to manifest several hundreds of complicated ngak at once.”

“Oh, please don’t worry! You’d still be beautiful even if you were bald, Lord Gishzida…….”

“……Thank you.”

But Renier jumped up and ran away like a startled rabbit before the words had even left Gishzida’s mouth.

“A-ahh! W-what is that?!”

A dish filled to the brim with ripe fruits and nuts was floating closer to them. Renier realized who was responsible for the wayward tableware when she saw the annoying smile on his fair face and the bright twinkle in his eyes.

Did he really want to see a small slave wench like her being startled so badly? Renier liked it when Gishzida showed her new skills, of course, but this wasn’t very good for her heart.

“What’s this now? Have you already flown all the way back to the door? Whatever happened to the brave little miss who even quipped back at Lady Inanna herself?”

Renier’s legs gave out from under her, and she began to whine.

“Waah……. B-but nothing came flying at me out of nowhere in Goddess Inanna’s temp……wow, those are grapes! Wow! Wow! There are figs and cookies too! Wow, Lord Gishzida!”

Gishzida swung his head back and began laughing heartily when Rennier suddenly turned around and began rushing back to the tray.

“We had a shipment of grapes and figs from the Ghana Plains recently, so I prepared some for you. There’s some honeyed goat milk and almonds too, so have some at your leisure. I’ll teach you what you need to know while you eat.”

Kiriakè and Sabato, Gishzida’s disciples who were organizing the herbs and making ngak tablets, suddenly tensed up. Not only had their teacher invited a mere slave wench into his house, but he was also treating her like an honored guest.

They had heard that she was one of the slave girls who were to participate in the coming spring festival. They also realized that she was the same disgraceful wench who had fearlessly cut off Armanu’s branches and left burns on Lord Gishzida’s person, judging by how she was worrying after Lord Gishzida’s injured arms with her warbling voice.

But what Kiriakè and Sabato were least able to understand was the things that Lord Gishzida, their teacher, was saying. He had created his house’s walls out of water because he used fire ngak often and was afraid of setting his house on fire? He was in the middle of studying herbs?

They were stunned speechless. There was a limit to humility.

This small and round house of water was something that no galtir or priest had ever been able to construct before in history. The ngak that Gishzida had used while constructing it far surpassed the skill level of any other ngak that was used in the temple.

The priests on the galtir’s side may be loath to acknowledge it, but Gishzida had purposefully showed off how skilled he was at using the ngak inside the divine stones and how he was on a much higher level than any other in the most open and arrogant way possible. Moreover, Gishzida was one of the best healers in the Golden Forest. He was without peer in the Southlands when it came to his knowledge of medical herbs.

Gishzida never passed down his knowledge, and he was also very particular about choosing his disciples. His disciples had been selected among only the brightest, most skilled at handling ngak, and youngest priests in the Golden Forest.

Their teacher was very skilled, but he was also very strict. He was also so cold and heartless that he was often difficult to serve.

But there were still plenty of priests who wanted to become his disciple even still. After all, becoming one of Gishzida’s disciples was regarded as being more admirable and honorable than becoming one of the priests among the galtir’s personal guard.

And so, Gishzida’s disciples were furious as this lowly slave wench from gods-know-where sat down with their teacher, whom even other priests could not easily obtain an audience with, and babbled on about some nonsense about being bald or whatnot that even they, Gishzida’s actual disciples, would never dare utter in front of him.

While it was true that Gishzida especially favored those who possessed the skills he was looking for, this only pertained to fellow Celestials. There was absolutely no reason for him to favor that pea-sized mudperson slave wench.

“That bitch must’ve lost her damn mind. I’ll rip that mouth of hers right off her face. Wait, I think I need to actually see the wench’s face first. Was getting Teacher hurt yesterday not enough for her?”

Kiriakè spat out curses, which she normally would have never uttered had her teacher been listening, in her fury. Sabato, who was standing next to her, quickly tugged on her sleeve.

“Please stop, Lady Kiriakè. You’ll make Teacher angry.”

“Sabato, are you seriously asking me to stop when you know just how badly Teacher suffered because of his burn wounds yesterday? Can you not hear what that slave wench is prattling with that wretched mouth of hers?”

“That child will likely be participating in the spring festival anyway. What’s the point in bothering to even look at her when she’s nothing but a lowly slave wench? You’ll only end up dirtying your eyes.”

They could hear their teacher laughing brightly and refreshingly outside even as they quibbled. They stopped moving. They couldn’t believe their ears —who knew that their teacher was capable of laughing so loudly and brightly?

Their teacher was noticeably beautiful even among the Celestials, who were said to have inherited Kittu’s beautiful looks, but on the other hand, he was very sensitive psychologically and he was not very physically strong. He was often drowning in melancholy and boredom, and he only allowed those who were closest to him to see him laughing on rare occasions —and even then, his laughter was generally cold and curt or somewhat twisted.

So it was strange to hear him laughing like that. Then, through the door, they overhead their teacher seemingly comforting the slave wench as she worried about his wounds.

“My hair will grow back soon, so you don’t need to worry yourself about that. Why don’t you worry about yourself instead? You made the galtir misunderstand for no reason because your hair’s so short even though you’re not a boy. Why don’t you just focus on eating a lot of good food and growing out your own hair faster? I’m sure you’ll be much prettier than you are now after you’ve grown out your hair and gained a bit of chubbiness to your cheeks.”

Even the normally composed Sabato let a clay tablet slip from her fingers, causing it to shatter audibly on the floor, when she heard that.

“The first and foremost thing you need to be careful of is that you don’t hurt the trees. I told you that the galtir will also die if Armanu dies, right? It doesn’t matter if you let a few leaves or flowers fall off, but you must never break any branches. Any new slaves who accidentally breaks a branch because they didn’t know that will be tied up naked in the plaza and receive fifty lashes.”

“Ack! Fifty lashes just for breaking one branch?”

I only survived by the skin of my teeth yesterday. Renier shuddered.

“Even then, the punishment is limited to only lashings when the culprit is a slave ­—things are much different for priests. And you avoided even that because you’re a child who will be participating in ritual. I’m fairly certain that any priest who broke off Armanu’s branches on purpose would get beheaded on the spot if the galtir found out about it, you know?”

“Ugh, how could he do that to a fellow Celestial over just a single tree branch……?”

“That’s because it’s not ‘just a single tree branch.’”

Gishzida chuckled meaningfully and asked,

“Do you know how galtirs are chosen, by any chance?”

“No. I’ve never heard anything about that.”

“This is something that most people in the Southlands should already know……. But then again, I suppose Elde Isle was a very isolated region.”

The esteemed priest who had very nicely called Renier a country bumpkin lowered his head and quietly continued whispering,

“Armanu bears golden branches at its very center that shine brightly. We call those branches ‘Armanu’s Fingers.’ First, you break those branches…”

“Yes.”

“And the priest who manages to use them to kill the current galtir becomes the next galtir.”

Ack —Renier was so shocked that she instinctively covered her mouth.

“Countless galtirs have been assassinated while they were asleep at night. This is why the Guardian of the Forest never sleeps and trusts no one. And he especially doesn’t trust the priests closest to him.”

“Oh…….”

“The only thing he can trust is Armanu, the divine tree that chose him, but even Armanu will abandon him someday. Once he’s old and no longer intelligent or beautiful, the divine tree will cast him aside in favor of a younger and stronger man. Just like how Armanu left Kittu in the legends.”

Renier clasped her hands over her mouth and shuddered. Why did such a cruel and heartless tradition exist amongst the descendants that Armanu and Kittu of Six Wings had borne out of love? Gishzida continued,

“The galtir must always live with the knowledge that he could die at any given moment as soon as he becomes the galtir. He has to pay the price for his greed, you see. The galtir alone must stay awake and guard the tree even as the rest of all creation sleeps at night. He must wait with bloodshot eyes for one of his brethren, who will either become the next galtir or a cold corpse, to challenge him.”

Gishzida’s whispers grew darker and heavier.

“The galtir must also break off a branch and rise to the occasion if a younger and overwhelmingly stronger new priest breaks off a golden branch and challenges him. Then, the two of them must fight with only Armanu’s Fingers and their physical strength —no ngak or weapons are allowed. Armanu will use her Fingers to make her choice as the two of them do battle with their lives on the line. And she will choose the younger, stronger, wiser, and livelier of the two.”

He roared with laughter as he stroked Renier’s hair.

Renier felt like her throat was burning up as she looked up at him. The emotions etched into his features were so fierce that she couldn’t tell what they signified.

The Forest was neither holy nor noble. It was obscener than Goddess Inanna, the philanderess, and it was far crueler than Goddess Inanna, the goddess of war. Could Lord Gishzida not feel just how evil it was?

“The Lord Galtir’s station must be as lonely as it is honorable.”

“Oh it’s a dreadfully lonely and agonizing position to be in. They say that many galtirs of the past either lost their minds or became despots after losing themselves to their madness.”

Then, Gishzida chuckled as if he was having great up and added,

“But there isn’t a single priest who doesn’t dream about becoming the galtir. The galtir becomes one with the Golden Forest, which is loved by both the heavens and the earth, in both body and soul, and every Celestial instinctively desires to be the galtir. Just like how the love stricken Kittu always desired Armanu. It’s a dreadful sickness that none of us can escape.”

Renier trembled. She suddenly felt so sad and helpless when Gishzida tied himself to the cruel and accursed custom.

“Then, does the Lord Galtir hate you because he’s anxious, Lord Gishzida?”

“Who can say? Doesn’t it seem like the galtir hates me a little too much for that to be the case? I’m not the only priest who’s capable of challenging him, you know?”

Gishzida leaned against the cool wall of water and gazed at Renier through half-closed eyes. He was undoubtedly smiling, but Renier couldn’t feel the warmth that she had felt from him before. Was it because of his animosity for the galtir? His words had felt as cold as ice. Then, Gishzida said,

“Renier. Most of the past generations of galtirs tried their best to annihilate the beastmen of the Northlands —and the Salt Mountain Tribe in particular. Do you know the real reason why they tried so hard?”

“I heard it was because the Salt Mountain Tribe won’t let you dig up divine stones…….”

“That’s only the public reason. But why must we go through the trouble of annihilated an entire tribe just because of that? You should be able to glean the answer if you think about the legend I told you on our way here to the Golden Forest,”

Gishzida whispered sharply. Renier’s head suddenly began ringing.

Renier dropped her jaw and nodded slowly. Oh, I see. I think…I know. I know why. I-I think I finally know what it is that you really want…Lord Gishzida.

“Are you……really trying to take back what Kittu lost?”

Ah, hahaha. A pleased peal of laughter roared above Renier’s head.

“Indeed. The priests who want that are called the Fundamentalists. And I am currently being ardently supported by the Fundamentalists.”

A shiver ran down Renier’s shoulders and back. I knew it. Lord Gishzida —no, all the Celestial priests genuinely believe that legend. Gishzida continued,

“Meanwhile, the priests who want to give up on our ideals and create a powerful nation here on earth are called the Realists. Kiros, the current galtir, is a Realist —as are Minnè and Jada, whom I’m sure you’re already familiar with.”

Aha. Renier finally comprehended the rift between Lord Gishzida and the galtir, Minnè, and Jada.

“We call them Apostates. Those who’ve fallen after abandoning the mission given to us by Kittu and Utu to chase after worldly wealth and power instead. Our two factions can never be reconciled. Minnè has even disowned her one and only daughter because they belong to different factions. Her daughter declared herself a Fundamentalist a few years back, you see.”

His voice was so saccharine as he whispered that it could have been drenched in honey.

“But we have no reason to keep waiting for Armanu like Kittu did. We’re going to annihilate the people of Salt Mountain, where the descendants of Armanu and the man-eating eagle are said to live, and take back the glory of light at the earliest opportunity, and then we’ll burn down the divine tree that was entrusted with eternal life and go home to the heavens where we belong.”

“But the galtir’s life is tied to the divine tree’s, and he’ll die too if the tree dies!”

“His mortal shell that’s bound to the earth would die, but he’d get back his eternal life as a Celestial at the same time. Would you want to cling to your shell of mud and give up on your new life as a Celestial, if you were in his shoes?”

“Oh……thank goodness. I see.”

Renier let out a sigh of relief before she could stop herself. Then, she immediately grew puzzled as to why she had done so. Gishzida’s chuckling began sounding a little strange.

“I plan on completing the sacred mission given to us Celestials within my lifetime.”

Did Lord Gishzida mean that he would become the galtir, conquer the Northlands, and annihilate the Salt Mountain Tribe so thoroughly that no one remained? There was such a jarring difference between his kind and gentle voice and the ghastly meaning of his words. It prevented Renier from fully perceiving the cruelty of what he had just said.

Then, when will you become the next galtir, Lord Gishzida? When will you break off a golden branch and challenge the current one?

But Renier did not voice her questions aloud. One reason was because she knew that his disciples were still inside the workshop, but she also didn’t think that she should ask him about this so thoughtlessly. Renier’s lips twitched, but she ultimately decided against voicing the questions that she wanted to ask and swallowed them instead, and then Gishzida smiled smoothly as he stooped over and whispered to her,

“Renier. Being the Guardian of the Forest is an incredible position on one hand, but it’s also an accursed position on the other. You can’t trust anyone if you’re the galtir, and you have no choice but to be extremely distrustful of even the people who defend you. It’s a dreadfully lonely and isolated position to be in. So much so that it’d be a challenge just to be the galtir without going insane.”

Renier felt the air around her growing weirder and weirder. Why is Lord Gishzida telling me all of this? He was telling her secrets that he had no reason to tell a mere lowly slave girl. He was smiling like he was hiding something. And he was being so incomprehensibly kind.

Is there something that Lord Gishzida wants from me right now?

Renier began desperately working the gears in her head as she tried to capture the underlying meaning hidden beneath his words. What did Lord Gishzida really want? What would he need most in order to become the galtir or after he became the galtir? Then, Renier suddenly recalled everything that Lord Gishzida had told her after they had arrived at the Golden Forest and everything he had told her just now.

— The kings and high priests of the cities who tremble in constant anxiety and the warriors of the battlefields would surely enjoy your ability to see bloodlust.

— Oh it’s a dreadfully lonely and agonizing position to be in. They say that many galtirs of the past either lost their minds or became despots after losing themselves to their madness.

Her thoughts began guiding her to one clear conclusion. Renier raised her head and looked Gishzida directly in the eyes.

“I’ll stay by your side and protect you, Lord Gishzida.”

His eyes narrowed. Renier knew that she had not been off the mark as soon as she saw that. And so, with a little more confidence, she repeated,

“I’ll do my best to protect you, Lord Gishzida. I’m a huntress with good night vision, and I’m the best at noticing danger and bloodlust. And more importantly, I’m a slave of the temple and not a priestess, so I can’t ever assassinate you. Please take me in as your guard slave, Lord Gishzida. I’ll protect you with my life when you can’t protect yourself!”

Gishzida suddenly broke out into a boisterous burst of laughter. Wahaha, aha, ahahaha! He laughed so laudly that the watery walls of his home began rippling.

“I never expected to hear anyone say that in all my life as Gishzida of the Golden Forest. And from a little miss who would’ve been burned to death if it hadn’t been for me, no less.”

Uh oh. Did I get it wrong?

It took Renier a moment to come back down to earth. Actually, her mind had been floating through the clouds all day long today, now that she thought about it. Just yesterday, she hadn’t been able to take care of even just herself and had needed Gishzida’s help, yet now she was telling him that he could rest easy knowing she would protect him —it was ridiculous, really.

Gishzida flicked Renier audibly on the forehead when she immediately began growing flustered.

“Alright. I’ve heard you loud and clear. They say that saying something aloud has the power of making things manifest, so I’ll be sure to remember your promise.”

Gishzida’s eyes narrowed as he grinned. One edge of his lips was somewhat askew, however, so his smile barely felt like a smile at all. It wouldn’t be until much later that Renier learned that this was how Gishzida smiled whenever he was genuinely satisfied about something.

Sabato and Kiriakè gingerly opened the workshop door once the young slave had finally returned to her lodgings. They intended to simply bid their teacher farewell and slip away quietly because, although there was a mountain of questions they wanted to ask him, they would probably only manage to incur his ire if they tried to ask.

But they ended up flinching and stopping in their tracks as soon as they opened the door.

The sunset was gently seeping through the watery walls. The light in the living room was off, and golden and blood-colored glow of the setting sun had melted ever so slightly into the murky darkness, filling the otherwise dark room with a sweet and mellow atmosphere.

Their teacher was lying sideways on his lounge chair with his head propped up on one arm in the middle of that very atmosphere. His long and beautiful golden hair was cascading from the chair down to the floor, where it pooled into gentle curls, and the thin linen habit wrapped around him brought out the lines of his smooth and slender figure in the most elegant and sensual way possible. Sabato and Kiriakè forgot how to breathe.

Had their teacher been reclining like that in front of the slave girl this entire time?

No, more importantly —the lowly thing had dared to see their teacher looking like this?

They could feel themselves growing enraged at slave wench whose face they did not even know.

“The roads are dark outside. You’ve both worked hard today. Be careful on your way back,”

a voice seeped into the slow spread of darkness. Sabato and Kiriakè startled and studied their teacher’s mien.

Their teacher was not looking at them. His eyes were half-closed, and he was gazing gently at the scattered fruits and cookie crumbs left on the table, but gracing his lips was an unfamiliar smile that neither of them had ever seen him wear before.

For a brief moment, something akin to a heavy breath —or perhaps an airy sigh?— escaped his lips and permeated the air around him. The sound made the darkness, mixed with the sunset’s golden glow, grow even denser, and it also seemed to make the air around him more alluring, more decadent, and breathtakingly sweet.