Chapter 8

The Cracks

“The Principality is too powerful; they hold the highest secrets of Light, and all the Ancient Tomes that we have. Do you not deny their hand reigns the Peninsula?”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. III

A splendid, circular, stone-tiled platform sat surrounded by high walls, long-stretched beams of sunlight washing over its aged surface, currently hosting over twenty souls draped in sweat and blood. Each held a weapon in their hands, striking either at each other or at the dummies placed around the edges, practicing in the scorching sun. The deep and low shouts drowned out the buzzing of the insects flying about, creating a symphony that very few liked to listen to.

All of a sudden, as though a bolt of lightning slashed across each individual at the same time, they all stopped and turned around, their eyes pointing at the same direction; up the platform’s stairs, merely six sets of them, came a familiar figure garbed in courtly attire, though fitted for the exterior; a clean, silver dress tied tight with silken belts at the edges, open shoulders, exposed arms below the elbows, adorned in golden ornaments across its surface.

One after another, men on top of the platform quickly put their weapons down and walked over, lining up in what felt like seconds and bowing collectively.

“YOUR HIGHNESS!!” a symposium of roars unified in a single greeting as Olivia maintained her expression despite her eardrums feeling a slight ache.

“At ease.” She said simply, in a sweet voice, still holding onto the smile, looking at each of the young men individually. Their youthful ages were exposed through the just-nestling beards they desperately tried to show off, the still-developing, bony bodies, and the eyes burning with fervor. “I’ve brought you lads snacks again. I’ve also spoken to Captain Ymmir and had him swear on his mistress’ name that he won’t yell at you because of taking a much-deserved break – so have at it.”

She chuckled faintly and descended down the stairs, leading a group of twenty-six exhausted, yet equally excited, young men to the nearby barracks. In the dining room, the usually empty table was filled with delicacies, ranging from warm and salty, to cool and sugary in make. In addition, at the centers were bowls of fruits, and the edges were occupied by all sorts of drinks.

With a loud cheer, the young men each individually thanked Olivia and raced over to the table, quickly picking up their favorites while she stayed behind, leaning against one of the eight stone pillars holding up the squared, tightly walled-off room lit up by Light-wood shining in gentle coral.

“Thank You again, Your Highness,” a middle-aged woman walked up to her slowly and bowed, wearing simple, leather clothes covered up by a white apron. Her hair was neatly tucked beneath a woolen hat, a pair of brown eyes staring at her with imposing gratitude. “The boys always feel especially revitalized after You grace them with Your visit.”

“I don’t think it’s my visit that revitalizes them, Yona,” Olivia chuckled. “But the foods and drinks that I carry with me. Look at them; they all look to have forgotten I even exist.”

“A-ah, Your Majesty—”

“I’m kidding, kidding,” Olivia quickly added, settling the anxious woman while laughing. “They’re the future of our Kingdom. It’s only proper we treat them right.”

“… thank You.” The woman said and bowed again before withdrawing, leaving Olivia alone for a moment. Suddenly, her smile turned to a frown as she excused herself and retreated from the War Complex, a separate institute within the Royal Grounds composed of six in total: War Complex, Treasury, Royal Library, Palace, Grand Council Hall, and Royal Quarters.

She shuffled through the narrow pathways amidst the tall, towering, stone buildings, making her way from the western end of the Royal Grounds toward the center-west, the Royal Quarters situated just outside the Palace itself. The Royal Quarters was a charted corner of the city that only the members of the Royal Family were allowed to enter without written exemption, walled off by grand-standing stone and guarded day-and-night by an army of one hundred Royal Guards.

She was promptly greeted at the entrance; greeting back halfheartedly, she sped through the narrow paths surrounded by the green and flowers gardens toward her own house, an imposing villa standing at nearly thirty meters of height at its peak, with spires protruding out of the tower-like edges, and the central building’s domed roof clad in coral tiles.

Making her way through the highly decorated halls of her home, she wound down the spiral case and into the hollow corridor leading to the most secretive room, and the most secretive possession, she currently had. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened the doors and walked in.

It has been some time since she visited as she was preoccupied elsewhere, but nothing seemed to have changed – at least visually. The room was still the same, as was the stuffy air that welcomed her. One thing of note, and difference, however, was that the Outlander was no longer seated on the bed, reading. Rather, he was doing something strange; pressing his arms against the floor and lifting himself off, time and again, while sweat dripped down onto the stoned floor, forming a sizable pond. From the looks of it, he was at it for a while.

Just as she entered, he lifted himself up and looked at her, from the floor; he was topless, once again, his defined body drowned in the shining droplets of sweat. It really was a stark difference, she mused, his body and the bodies of those boys who spent hours out in the scorching sun, swinging swords and spears.

“… what are you doing?” she asked in a rather familiar tone, forgoing the formal greeting. By now, Noah had spent almost a month in this room, and from what her Dacent told her, he had an amazing grasp over the language.

“… greetings, Your Highness,” Noah smiled faintly and pushed himself up to his feet with a grunt, walking over to the bowl of water and washing his face before drying it with a blanket, quickly putting on a shirt. “You haven’t visited in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” Olivia replied, walking over to the stool and sitting down as per their unspoken, usual agreement. “So… what were you doing?” she asked, truly curious.

“… exercising.” He replied, sitting down and gorging on an apple.

“Exercising? That was… exercise?” Olivia pondered. She understood exercising as running and running, or perhaps lifting really heavy things time and again, but certainly not whatever he was doing.

“Hm,” Noah nodded. “It builds, uh, upper-body muscles. You missed a set of central-body ones.”

“…” though Olivia was desperate to ask whether these exercises are the reason his body was so different than the ones she was familiar with, she felt it was too indecent and held back in the end.

“You look rather overdressed for the occasion,” he said, his eyes unashamedly rippling across her body. “Are we to hold some sort of a formal ritual?”

“E-eh? Ah, sorry,” she said, somewhat flustered by his gaze, subconsciously pulling her dress closer to her body. “I forgot to change. I hope it doesn’t bother you.”

“… why would it?” Noah grinned.

“R-right… why would it?”

“…”

“…” an awkward silence settled between the two, something that happened frequently when he tied her tongue for a moment and made her self-conscious. He seemed entirely comfortable with it, nipping away at the fruits by his bed, seemingly entirely ignorant of her own state. “A-are… are your wounds better?”

“Ah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Noah said. “I made do with what I had for the wounds’ re-dressings, but I’m running out of stuff to rip and cut. Is there some bandage shortage or have you just forgotten?”

"…" Olivia's cheeks flushed in deep red as she realized that she had, indeed, entirely forgotten about it. The main rule of healing a fresh wound was to keep it clean – otherwise, it could fester and get infused by the Dark – yet, it had completely slipped her mind. "I—I'm sorry, I really am. I will have someone deliver you a fresh supply immediately."

“… other than that,” Noah said with a smile, sliding past the uncomfortable. “They seem pretty much healed up. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to exercise.”

“R-right, of course,” accepting his offer graciously, she also chose to move past it. “I’m sorry I have kept you here all this while, but it is for a good reason, if you could trust my word.”

“… it’s fine,” he said after a short, dreaded silence. “It’s hardly a life worth complaining about.”

"…" after a short, inward deliberation, Olivia took a deep breath and settled herself. "I'll come and visit you tomorrow, bringing with me some rather important documents. During the visit, I'll explain why I kept you here, and why you didn't have any contact with the outside world save for me and the Dacent. As well… as well as my purpose for helping you."

“… I’ll be looking forward to it, then.” Noah said, nodding lightly.

“Very well, then. I should be off; I apologize for barging in like that. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Always a pleasure, Your Highness.” Olivia didn’t know whether it was accidental or deliberate – though she was leaning on the latter end of things – but each time she tried to close the gap between the two through informal acts, he would pull back and establish a clear line of division between the two. With a faint, last glance at the seated man, she left the room, ordering her thoughts for tomorrow.

**

Noah stared at the closing doors for a moment before his smiling expression turned into a frown – it was a bit too quick. Though he expected her to eventually come out with her reasons, he felt it was still too quick. However, part of the blame lied with him as well; he should have slowed down his acquisition of language, or at least pretended it was slower than in reality.

Sighing outwardly, he sunk back onto the bed and lied down. While tomorrow would bring him effectively all the answers he needed, for the time being, it was hardly an occasion worth celebrating. It would also impose on him the conditions that could either be relatively easy or simply impossible to achieve. After all, what could he, a single individual, do to contribute to a world in which magic itself exists? Whatever it was, it had something to do with his status as an Outlander – but, short of bringing here the gear he hid and trying to awe her with guns and boots and electrical nonsense that had stopped functioning, he had little else to offer as he wasn’t even of this world. Eh, may as well wing it. It’s not often that moments when I’m left deliberating happened… might actually be a bit exciting…