Volume 1 - CH 12.2

“Ugh, ngh, argh!”

Sabato, Kiriakè, and Paraskier, who were the best among Gishzida’s disciples at handling medicinal herbs, took turns to tend to their teacher all night long. Their teacher’s wounds were slow to heal because they were so severe, and his mind was on the brink of collapse from the sheer agony of it all.

“Argh. Ngh…….”

Crash, pow, pow! Crunch.

The sounds of something shattering or otherwise breaking always followed his pained groaning. Two or three people would also run into the room whenever it happened, clean up after whatever had been broken, extinguished any fires using ngak, and helped stabilize their teacher.

Gishzida writhed and convulsed every time he recalled what had happened not because of the pain from his back but because of great humiliation he had suffered. He recklessly cast offensive ngak everywhere whenever it happened, and his floundering caused his wounds to reopen.

His disciples and the rest of the Fundamentalists were in great shock. Their leader was their pride and glory. Gishzida was unprecedentedly talented at developing new ngak, his knowledge was vast, he was composed and never swept away by emotion, he was merciless to the point that he would willingly cut off his own hands and feet without hesitation if he had to, and he carried himself with a remarkable amount of pride.

They could not accept the fact that Gishzida had been humiliated like a mere mudperson slave because of a mere mudperson slave.

They wanted to murder the slave wench at once if they could have things their way, but unfortunately, she was to participate in the upcoming spring festival. Moreover, Minnè and Jada, who oversaw the slaves, were not only Realists but also counted among the galtir’s closest allies. Not only would things only get worse if they acted on their anger, but more importantly, the consequences that resulted would also fall upon none other than Gishzida himself.

“Baras.”

Someone uttered a short support en from below. It was Jada, the fastidious woman who was a close ally of the galtir’s and also one of the en-nugigs in charge of overseeing the slaves who would be participating in the festival.

“En-Nugig Jada requests a private audience.”

Gishzida’s eyes glistened when he heard his new disciple Paraskier had said. A pair of sapphire eyes immediately began boiling. Paraskier continued,

“Shall I tell her to leave? It is rather late.”

“No. Have her wait outside the door. She came all the way here without prior notice just to see me in my humble state, so she can humble herself and wait by the door in return,”

Gishzida spat out frigidly before he sat up with much difficulty. Then, he continued,

“Sabato, Kiriakè. Change the bandages on my back and help me change into a habit. Bring me everything —including by hair accessories, waistband, necklace, and shoes. Prepare my face lotion and fragrant oils too.”

Sabato immediately tried to stay him.

“There’s no need for you to push yourself to meet with her right now, Lord Gishzida. You aren’t in good condition.”

“No. If Jada’s here this late at night, then it means that she has important news.”

Sabato, who had been preparing Gishzida’s clothes, gradually slowed down. Jada was in charge of overseeing the slaves, and she had come with ‘important news.’ It didn’t take Sabato very long to guess exactly who that news was about.

And everything was pointing her to one undesirable conclusion.

“The galtir said that you should be grateful that he was considerate enough to split your punishment in two in consideration for your life, since originally, you were supposed to be flogged one hundred times publicly all at once for the crime of breaking one of Armanu’s branches. You will receive the remaining fifty lashes after the spring festival is over.”

“……I see. If he wants me to be grateful, then you may tell him that I am, Jada.”

Jada watched quietly as the man standing before her warped his lips into a twisted smile despite still looking deathly pale. He had passed out after being flogged and had only recently come to, and it looked like he had yet to reclaim the leisure to perfectly hide his emotions.

“As a separate matter, the lord galtir was furious when he heard about the disgraceful rumors about you and the slave wench. You are to be punished with house arrest for your misgivings. He’s declared that both you and your assistants will be stripped of your respective ranks if you ever leave your house during your confinement.”

“……I suppose I should be grateful for that too. And?”

“Your house arrest will be temporarily lifted for the spring festival. You are also ordered to prepare poignant aromatic herbs and incenses to mask the stench during all ten days of the festival, as well as prepare a fortnight’s worth of medicinal tea for the nugigs who come into contact with mudpeople, like you’ve done before,”

En-Nugig Jada said dispassionately as she repeated her leader’s orders. Gishzida reclined against his lounge chair as he coldly spat out,

“One hundred lashings, two years of house arrest, aromatic herbs, incense, and a fortnight’s worth of medicinal tea for the nugigs. It seems I won’t even have the time to be bedridden. Is there anything more?”

“He said that you will also need to make two hundred ngak tablets with fire-based incantations every month.”

“Wow, he really got me good this time. The good galtir must be so anxious just to kill one measly priest.”

Gishzida lowered his head and cackled as he continued,

“Please do tell him that I’m ever so grateful. It’s rather late, so I’ll have to ask you to return if that was everything you had to say, En-Nugig.”

Jada looked at the white cloth wrapped around Gishzida’s back and the bloodstains that had managed to smear even his outer garments and quickly clicked her tongue. He was dressed up nicely and sitting upright out of sheer pride, but he was actually in no state to be sitting up at all.

Jada thought that fifty lashes had been overboard, which was nothing to say of a hundred. The slave wench had accidentally broken a branch because she hadn’t known any better, and Gishzida had only offered to take responsibility for her because he had in charge of educating and managing the slaves who would be participating in the festival.

She hadn’t imagined even in her wildest dreams that the galtir would really flog a high-ranking Celestial priest in a mere slave’s stead, and absolutely no one could have anticipated that Gishzida would actually accept the punishment.

The two years of house arrest was also excessive. Priests of the Golden Forest did not marry or establish households, so there were no official restrictions on whom they could choose to have relations with. It wasn’t unheard of for priests to lay their hands on the girls who would be participating in the ritual.

The priests’ licentious behavior was generally overlooked because there was no requirement that the girls who participated in the Golden Forest’s ritual had to be virgins. The status quo was to simply turn a blind eye unless it because something bigger since the slaves had been bought for the explicit purpose of having sex with the priests anyway. This was why Jada could not erase the idea that the galtir had simply been picking fault with Gishzida no matter how much she disliked the man.

That being said, however, there was still something that she just couldn’t understand.

The Fundamentalists generally looked down on mudpeople, but Gishzida had always been exceptionally indifferent to them even for a Fundamentalist. He had disliked mudpeople so much that he’d even skipped the ritual before because he hadn’t wanted anything to do with the people who came to the Golden Forest from the outside to celebrate the spring festival.

The only reason why his disdain had never posed a problem all this time was because he was remarkably skilled at concealing his emotions. He was so skilled, in fact, that all ten girls that he had brought to the Golden Forest had fallen completely head over heels for him. Minnè and Jada was fully aware of Gishzida’s true nature, and they were aghast whenever they heard the girls dreamily chatting away about their beloved ‘Lord Gishzida.’

But Gishzida undoubtedly acted strangely when it came to the small and scrawny girl called Renier. He had not only voluntarily taken the galtir’s attack in her stead and invited her to his home to teach her how to use clay tablets and the how to write the ‘letters’ that the priests used, but he had even agreed to be flogged in her place too.

And Jada had only learned today about the thing that baffled her the most. She stood up as she nonchalantly added,

“Oh, I almost forgot. The galtir has also ordered for the problematic slave child to participate in the spring festival without fail.”

Gishzida’s visage stiffed like wax. Curtly, he replied,

“Girls who aren’t old enough to conceive or who had stopped menstruating because they’re pregnant cannot participate in the spring festival. Surely, the galtir is aware of something so obvious?”

I knew it. Just you wait.

The thing that baffled Jada the most about the wise priest’s actions was that he had tried to pretend that he had gotten a slave wench pregnant to get her disqualified from participating in the festival. Jada’s lips twisted as she spat out,

“Renier has begun menstruating.”

Gishzida’s eyes opened wide. It took a while before he finally managed to hoarsely stammer,

“That…that’s impossible. Renier isn’t…”

“And how can you be so sure of that, En-Ishib? Did you feed her a medicinal tea that would cause the blood vessels in her uterus to dry up or something?”

Gishzida’s features immediately stiffened. I knew it. Sharply, Jada accused,

“You dared to try and deceive the galtir, En-Ishib.”

“What are you talking about, Jada?”

“The child started crying and confessed everything today. She confessed that nothing happened between you two and that she had been sold to you even though she hadn’t started menstruating yet, and she begged for you to be forgiven now that she can still participate in the festival because she started her first menstruation the other day. She stirred up such a ruckus about how she’d accept the rest of the flogging in your stead that she could be heard all throughout the lodgings. She’s been tied up in leather rope and locked in the warehouse for the time being.”

“Renier! You……!”

“I suppose you must’ve pretended to have gotten the lowly and foolish slave wench pregnant because she possesses some kind of special talent or could otherwise be useful to you somehow, considering how much you detest and scorn mudpeople and how you’ve turned away all the noble and beautiful nugigs you cared for previously.”

“Jada!”

Had she hit the mark? Gishzida jumped up from his seat and fell back down into his chair with his teeth gritted. Jada could see that his arms were quivering, perhaps because of the pain he was in.

“Please give up, En-Ishib Gishzida. There’s nothing you can do anymore. That child has begun menstruating, and she will be participating in the spring festival. You seem to have expended quite a bit of effort into this matter, which is rather uncharacteristic of you, but that wench will never fall into your hands, Lord Gishzida.”

Jada could see Gishzida’s features hardening like alabaster. She decided to stop provoking him any further than this and got up. She continued,

“In any case, I pray that the wounds on your back will heal soon. They’ll have to heal before you receive your remaining fifty lashes after the festival, no?”

Gishzida squeezed his eyes shut after Jada had left.

Renier started menstruating?

That’s impossible. No one knows more about medicinal herbs in the Golden Forest than I do, and I know best that the herb I fed Renier were incredibly potent.

The herb that Gishzida had fed Renier were usually used by priestesses who wished to induce abortion by drying up the blood vessels in their uterus after lying with a mudperson and receiving his seed, and it was a highly toxic herb that normally rendered the user barren for at least a year. Ingesting too much of the herb could even render the user barren permanently. This was why Gishzida had agonized over whether or not he should use the herb for such a long time —but he had ultimately chosen wrongly.

I even gave her a full dosage because of the honey I put in so she wouldn’t realize that anything was off with those sharp senses of hers…….

“So why now of all times?!”

Gishzida tensed up, and the wounds on his back audibly reopened. His face crumbled as he buried it in his hands.

***

“Do I seem strange to you, Sabato?”

Her teacher hadn’t been able to sleep ever since Jada had left. Instead, he had stayed up in his bedroom and had been staring outside with a hand against the watery wall. The only thing that could be seen beyond his house’s walls of water was the muddy darkness, so dark that you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of you, because there was no moon in the sky since it was the first day of the lunar month and the forest was too dense for the starlight to shine through.

“If you are asking whether you appear to be the same person as you were before, then no.”

Gishzida smiled as he continued staring out the window. Sabato could not see her teacher’s face because he was facing the wall of water.

“So you mean that I should have stopped at a better time. Is that what you’re saying?”

Gishzida placed his hand against his forehead and leaned against the wall.

Sabato had no idea when or where this foolishness had entered her teacher’s heart. Had he truly not known when he ought to have stopped? Had he realized too late? Quietly, Sabato answered,

“It’s still not too late yet, Lord Gishzida.”

“It’s not too late yet……? Even though something inside of me isn’t working properly?”

“You are Lord Gishzida of the Golden Forest, Teacher. You will recover soon enough.”

“Is that so?”

The air around Gishzida cooled as his chuckles withered away.

Sabato was almost grateful for Jada’s message.

She could not make heads or tails as to why her teacher had changed. At first, she had thought that the wench had possessed something that he needed. But then, it had almost started to look like her teacher had desired the slave wench herself.

Did her teacher know why that was? Her teacher was one of the brightest minds the Golden Forest had ever known, but Sabato still believed that it was entirely possible that he didn’t know. After all, En-Ishib Gishzida was not the kind of man who would have simply allowed things to end up like this if he had known why he’d changed.

In any event, there was nothing he could do for the slave now. Sabato was actually relieved that this particular pustule had burst sooner rather than later —it was better that her teacher stopped coming into contact with the slave wench altogether than for him to be ruined to the point of no return. It wouldn’t end with only Gishzida’s personal humiliation if something like this ever happened again and he took it even just one more step too far —if that happened, the foundation of the Fundamentalists’ faction would collapse entirely.

Gishzida had something he needed to protect and a sacred duty that he must fulfil. Fortunately, Sabato’s teacher was the most unshakable person she’d ever met, and he was as level-headed as he was cruel. Both to others and to himself.

“Worry not. I am the leader of the Fundamentalists, and I know best what that means, what I must do, and what I must not do,”

Gishzida said firmly, as if to clear away Sabato’s apprehensions. Her teacher did not cry when he was sad, he did not smile when he was happy, and did not say his wishes aloud. He cried when he was required to cry, he smiled when he  was required to smile, and he only spoke the words that he was required to speak. His reactions toward the slave wench —Sabato didn’t even know what she looked like— had been the one and only exception.

Gishzida stared into the darkness for a very long time before his shoulders heaved. He pressed his hands against the wall of water and brought his face to it. His back was taut with tension, and his pale and slender fingers began quivering. The forest was still as dark as ever, but he was staring piercingly at some unknown point beneath the tree.

“Wake up Kiriakè and Paraskier, Sabato.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Go and stand in front of the door with them. And stop me if I try to ignore my house arrest and go outside.”

Sabato slowly rose from her seat. A bead of cold sweat ran down her back. Someone had come in the pitch darkness. They had come in the dead of night with neither fire nor moonlight. Gishzida’s straight fingers curled into tight fists. Sabato clasped her hands over her mouth when she saw the veins popping out the back of his hand.

“Lord……Lord Gishzida.”

“The three of you are to stop me with your lives on the line if I try to step outside.”

“Yes, Lord Gishzida,”

Sabato responded with a trembling voice.

Renier’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at the tree.

“Lord Gishzida. Are you okay, Lord Gishzida?”

she muttered hoarsely as she looked up.

Renier had been locked up in the warehouse because she had cried so much and made such a ruckus when Gishzida was flogged, but the warehouse was so poorly secured that it was nothing for her to slip away. It hadn’t been impossible for her to find Gishzida’s house again either because she had already visited him several times. Renier had great night vision because she had spent many years working in the fields, and she was very good at remembering the lay of the land.

A couple of lamps had been lit inside the house of water. And she could see a few people walking to and from the living room. She couldn’t tell who was who by their silhouette or the color of their clothes because all habits were white, but she had recognized immediately that the tall and slender figure standing with his hand against the wall was Gishzida.

She also knew that he was aware that she was here. He knew she was there even though there was no way that he could see her clearly in the pitch darkness. She could feel his gaze fixated on her.

Can’t he come outside? Oh, maybe he can’t because he’s under house arrest?

Right. Not only was Lord Gishzida flogged because of me, but he’s going to be locked up in his house for two whole years too. Renier’s shoulders curled inward yet again.

That being said, Renier couldn’t exactly climb up the tree and into his house when there were other priests inside either. She had broken out of the warehouse to come here, and there was no way for her to know how the consequences could affect Gishzida again if she was found out.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and fell to the ground. She wanted to see him, but even that felt so shameless. She didn’t know what to do, and she didn’t know what she would even say.

How much pain is he in? He’s such a noble and prideful person —how much is he suffering? All because of me. All because of someone as insignificant as me. Her throat and chest hurt like she had swallowed a ball of fire whole. Lord Gishzida, Lord Gishzida. Renier wiped her tears against the back of her hands she cried.

“Don’t cry……. I told you you’re being loud. You’re making my head hurt…….”

The three priests standing at the door were tense with anxiety as they heard their teacher mumble to himself. They couldn’t hear any noises coming from outside, but he was being tormented by the cries they couldn’t hear.

His hands were still balled into tight fists as he pressed against the wall of water. His fists were so tight that his hands were pallid, and they were quivering.

“How did you even find your way here when it’s so dark outside, hmm?”

Swish.

A small spark of fire suddenly shot out from the house no sooner than the words had left his lips.

“L-Lady Kiriakè! W-what is that?”

Paraskier asked frightfully with her eyes wide open. A small flame was spinning circles as it slowly made its way downward before their teacher’s eyes and on the other side of the wall of water. Sabato and Kiriakè had also opened their eyes wide in shock. There was another crackling noise, and more sparks flew out through the wall of water and began floating down.

“Shh! Our teacher manifested a fire ngak.”

Kiriakè, who had quickly grasped the situation, whispered urgently as she clamped her hand over the youngest disciple’s mouth.

The small flames rode the wind and began fluttering around the girl standing in the darkness instead of floating all the way down to the ground.

The small girl was wearing black clothes and was buried completely inside the darkness, but the flames began illuminating her dimly. Her face was buried inside her hands and she sobbed.

“Please don’t cry.”

Shaaa.

The small flames suddenly began showering down like snowflakes. The small girl raised her head and looked around in a daze. He saw her eyes opening wide as she began reaching out curiously toward the lights, but then she took fright and hesitantly retracted her hands. He could see the small child’s ashen face as she looked up and stared anxiously back at him.

Then, the small flames suddenly began bursting as they transformed into butterflies of varying sizes. The three disciples desperately swallowed back their screams as they stood guard by the door.

“Oh Armanu. Good heavens.”

The butterflies circled around the child as they fluttered up and down. Hundreds, thousands of yellow butterflies glowing like fireflies began dancing around her.

The priests standing by the door clasped their hands over their mouths as they swallowed their screams. This was a ngak manifestation of unimaginable skill. It was not something they could possibly learn no matter how long or hard they studied. They had served Lord Gishzida for such a long time but had never seen just how truly great his skills were until now, and they were stunned by what they were witnessing.

“I’m alright. I’m alright, so stop crying now, okay?”

Pop pop pop, pop pop pop pop. Swoosh. This time, the yellow chickweed flowers near the girl were popping open like bubbles and blossoming like dandelions. Her surroundings became filled with yellow chickweed flowers before long.

“Look. Look as much as you’d like. Isn’t it pretty, isn’t it……?”

The young girl looked at the mounds of small chickweed flowers that were blossoming, then she turned back to Gishzida, then she looked at the flock of golden butterflies surrounding her, and then she turned back to Gishzida. The field of flowers grew wider, the flock of butterflies grew larger, and the young girl’s surroundings were being enveloped in light.

The flock of butterflies began moving this way and that as it danced. They cascaded downward like a golden waterfall, wrapped gently around her like an embrace, circled around her like a meandering stream, and even bounced around from time to time like splashes of water. It was so brilliant and blinding that she could barely keep her eyes open.

The flock of butterflies began moving again. They flapped their wings and stopped in front of the young girl as though they were chastising her for only keeping her gaze blankly on Gishzida. It’s dangerous for you to stay here. Be on your way. I’m fine, so be careful on your way back. The butterflies will guide you through the darkness. The priests felt like they could almost hear their teacher’s gentle voice through the flock of butterflies.

The young girl, who was enshrouded by the butterflies, looked up, followed the butterflies away for a few steps, and turned around to look up at Gishzida once more.

Then, she got down to her knees and bowed. Her shoulders heaved for quite some time as she prostrated herself. Gishzida pressed his forehead and fists against the wall of water and did not budge.

Hundreds and thousands of butterflies danced as they led the young girl and guarded her from all sides. The path upon which she walked began sparkling with a blinding golden light. But she continued to keep looking back even as she walked through the starry sea, and she continued to keep crying. The crying girl grew gradually smaller alongside the flock of light until she was slowly buried under the darkness again.

The three priests finally heard a sound coming from their teacher’s lips. His short, sharp, and moist breaths mixed aimlessly into each other as if through gritted teeth, or as if he was trying to swallow a lump of something painful. Gulp, gulp —the moisture that had pooled near his chin dripped to the floor all at once every time they heard him swallow.

“……She’s gone,”

he muttered calmly as he looked up.

It was completely dark outside, and the three priests finally breathed out sighs of relief. They were deeply, deeply grateful not because their teacher had adhered to his house arrest and not gone outside, not because they had survived the encounter with their lives intact, but because their teacher’s tears had been buried by the darkness and they could not see them anymore.