The Horn and the Star

By Martin Joseph Richard

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, and sometimes fantasy is more real than reality. The Horn and the Star is a three volume novel that contemplates the mystery of our times in a fantasy opera.

The Dorians have taken over the civil world, the known world, using their religion, Staljhinism as a banner for conquest, and in times of merriment and peace, practice of Staljhinism fades out and becomes a relic of a dying era. And now the Dorians have crowned themselves as the greatest power in the world, and no power in the world can dethrone them.

In the meanwhile, the other nations aren't entirely settled after having been conquered and Doria has to figure out how to maintain peace throughout their new empire.

Prince Velpis of Doria does not have an ounce of Staljhinism faith in him, but he is a man of civic ideals and political ambitions, looking to bring the empire to prosperity; and while he's been slowly been bequeathed rulership over Doria by his aging father, King Hectar, he's begun to materialize some of those ideas by challenging the Staljhin religion and any other religions and wanting to extract from them and from other cultural traditions that which has purpose.

Prince Velpis is not alone as many others also consider that the united empire is seeming like a better idea as the days pass, and who better for the job?

And so a new struggle begins to emerge as the people of the kingdom wrestle between living for the joys and splendours of this world and living for abstract things like virtue and honour.

But enter Vontaro, a denizen in Doria, unlike the others, who is linked to sorcery, and also linked to the woman Velpis courts, Segisa, and linked to many other accusations from his friends and from those that don't know him. He is either teetering on madness or he sees what no one else sees and hears what no one else hears.

The Dorians do not like the unknown, mystery, and especially situations that aren't entirely under their control. Unfortunately, Doria's princess, Ophinia, has questions in which can't be answered within the confines of the castle, the town, or the crater plains, and so one night she meets with the mysterious Vontaro through their mutual acquaintance with Segisa.

And now that Prince Velpis is getting married to the beautiful physician, Segisa, Prince Velpis' ideals are on a collision course with those whom defend those invisible ideas, namely that mysterious 'sorcerer' named Vontaro.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Joseph Richard
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215533352

Martin Joseph Richard

I started writing when I was 18... I've written many books and novels, but I've not really done much with them, so I'll be putting them up and anyone who wants to read them, great. Enjoy.

Book preview

Part 1: The Dragon Roars

Chapter 01: My Favourite Nightmare

Vontaro

I am at my lookout point over the crater plains, where I see the kingdom and capital of Doria in the distance. The sun is setting over it and night will fall upon us soon. From here, it's a hill and busy city with two prevailing structures in its skyline: the castle, the tallest point of the city, and the Cathedral of Staljhin, the second tallest point of the city.

What are you protecting, Vontaro? asked a voice - do not ask whose voice it is; I simply speak to it as though it were my conscience speaking to me.

I do not know; I assume I protect my sanity, I answered.

That which you are protecting will soon come under siege; it will become shattered. After this, we request that you listen to us.

I replied, If what you say is true, then I shall have nothing left; I will be a husk.

You will not be a husk, for you have with you our presence, which you have always had with you. The others are a husk of their own inventions, with darkness, but you will be filled.

I replied, And yet you say I am rich, but I am losing everything.

But you are still wealthy, Vontaro. You hear where others are deaf. That makes you wealthier than the others. If you became deaf, you would lose all.

I replied, So what am I to do when I lose everything?

Simply listen.

I closed my eyes and let images form in my mind: I saw what looked like a horn rising up out of the crater plains with a power emanating over it, radiating over the lands. At first, the lands did not respond, like a song was playing and no one was singing along, but afterwards, after a joining with a light of inspiration, many began to sing along to that song and dance to the rhythm of the pulses that came from this horn.

I replied, And I will be helpless.

Helpless? No, you will have our help, which is the only help you need.

I replied, And what will I be doing?

As we have said: listening.

I replied, But what will I be manifesting when I listen? I assume I will become a hand of sorts.

You stare into the fog as we do, for what we hear, we pass along, but you must trust in the light that shines beyond the fog. The closer to come to that light, the more the fog will pass and the more you will see. All who pass through the fog begin to manifest a great light, whose will is not theirs but the will of one far greater than they are. All you need to do is keep taking steps through the fog.

I replied, No matter what pains? No matter what I think?

As you go further, you will realise that there is no other valiant choice.

I replied, Yes; there is only one way... I realize it.

*

You expect a storm, but you only receive silence. You can make anything out of the silence, but I suppose the point is that you should let the silence speak, which seems paradoxical. You hear a pandemonium of voices, but they all speak random things, simply wanting to be listened to and heard. Yet, the silence is supposed to be what prevails.

I sat across the tavern table from her, and I was holding her hand, something I rarely do, about to tell her something close to my heart. She noticed, as I was behaving unusually, and cut me off.

It’s for the better, Vontaro, she eventually said, breaking the silence. Now, she speaks with a mission rather than effusing her emotions. She tries not to hurt me as though I’m the fragile one - I am not afraid of the silence, but I put up a good fight. She is now wearing an emotional mask, which does not equate the mercy she thinks it does.

Why one of the most dangerous minds of our generation? You have no problem arguing with me, so where are your disagreements with him? I asked, knowing I wasn’t going to get a straight answer, but since we are both wearing masks and posturing, I have to set my position.

My father told me that he is good for me, and his family completely approves of me, Vontaro. It seems like it was written in fate that I should marry him, she answered me, as though she tried to figure it out herself. Does not fate want us all to be happy?

Here we go with the happiness again. This is all darkness, indeed.

Happy? This situation is making me miserable. It seems your fate has forgotten about me.

Maybe all you need to do is suspend yourself until you allow happiness in to find you; but you make yourself difficult to find! I mean; there is no argument, Vontaro; I get along with him well, and since I’ve been seeing him, neither of us has complained! It just works, and after a slight pause, she made her request, I’ve come here for you to honour that, and honour me. Vontaro, this can be good for the both of us. You are more intelligent than I am… and his sister is a beautiful woman…

What... the princess? I answered. I heard she was courting the knight captain, whom the women swoon over. From what I see when I weigh her character, what can she be worth if she simply chases after the biggest piece of meat in the kingdom? She is Dorian; I have no interest in a Dorian. The meat is a man who is probably stagnated in character due to his being well-loved; anyone well-loved is not looking to improve upon themselves since they live in the illusion that they have already succeeded. I continued, She's a Dorian.

She retreated, letting go of my hand, and sitting back in her chair. She gazed at me cautiously, now. Her eyes glazed over, but I could see her fighting back what sadness she might encounter.

And now I have aggravated the truth in her. Vontaro, you can’t be an anchor to me. I shouldn’t owe anything to you. Your friendship has always empowered me, and should not destroy my opportunities, she said, displaying her guilt openly for me to see. I always appreciated her honesty… after I had to tear off her stupid masks.

So I spoke more at ease, And I am not. You are free to do what you will without a guilty conscience. It’s not evil, what you’re doing. But you espouse happiness and the situation doesn't make sense to me; it is like you like him because he is prince and not because of who he is.

He's highly intelligent, Vontaro, more so than I am; I love him, she answered.

I am highly intelligent, and she does not love me; the difference here is that he is Dorian and he is a prince, while I am without a trade and searching for truth. Is it because he is a prince or because he is Dorian? If it was because he was Dorian, then she might have courted other intelligent Dorians, but I believe she has, deep within her heart, the Dorian seed which defines happiness as marrying men of prestige. She would never admit to such a thing, but watching her rationalize around it is amusing and obnoxious at the same time.

Yet, she and I have a history, and that history seems to be getting trounced by her fantasies, which also does not make sense. Fantasy does not so easily overtake sentimentality, which means she already has powerful sentimental attachment to the prince. I think she has already shared a marriage bed with him, because she is far too resolute this evening.

I could have addressed it, but my emotions could no longer be withheld. After our history, you won’t even hear me, or let me talk you out of it, I said, Something is different about you tonight. It is like your heart is set in stone, but you can still go back, you can still withdra—.

I can’t, Vontaro. I will marry him! she interrupted me in protest.

Then I can only concede. Do it without guilt, I said a little louder than I wanted to; I had to leave her. Five weeks to go. I cannot openly tell her what I believe she has already done with the prince, but now it seems quite obvious to me after my surmising.

When I stood up and spoke a hasty farewell, she tried to stop me to talk some more. She stipulated if I truly blessed her marriage, then I would come to her wedding at the castle hall. I can honour the marriage, that’s fine, but there was no way I could watch her get married. I’m strong, but I did have powerful sentimental feelings for her and I still do. I was always under the impression that we would eventually get married when I found my role in all of this. Too late, I guess.

Now it's just silence.

I walked outside that night, expecting it to rain. It was not. Everything was usual. There was no dramatic death for me; it was like I was just being erased from the picture and am now to live in the oblivion of the memories of others.

…

The Dorians say that nothing is wrong with their lives and that they’re perfectly normal, and that so long as they’re happy, I shouldn’t be disturbing them. The last thing you’d suspect of a happy people is that they have any trouble at all in their land, religion, culture, or political system.

The prince of Doria, Velpis, is largely at rule now with King Hector slowly handing his duties and responsibilities to the prince. Clad in bulky red and white clothes that hide his thin interior, Velpis sports long and slick black hair with a thin face, an arrogant smirk, and determined brown eyes; he all but has the crown at his command. He’s marrying a beautiful physician named Segisa who now dons the red and white Dorian colours. She’s characterized by her flowing blonde hair of darker roots, intelligent and stunning deep blue eyes, perfectly symmetrical features, and pouty lips that would make any man quiver at the thought of kissing them, and a tall and slender figure, regal in potency but usually garbed in the coat marking a physician.

The Dorian castle has everything with rule over five kingdoms, four conquered during the Staljhin crusades between sixty and twenty years ago, but their people are in the dark. People still don’t know the political nature of their attack against Charosia’s castle Ullidus, an attack I was part of when I was five years old. Charosia was Doria’s neighbouring nation with an advanced culture rich with faith in one ultimate entity, and harmoniously Doria and Charosia challenged one another politically with strong trade relations, rising both kingdoms above all others. That all changed when Doria was campaigning their troops to the borders of Tynth with Charosia letting them pass through, even provisioning the soldiers; Doria betrayed castle Ullidus by laying siege to the castle and essentially destroying it, burning all of its shrines and temples, and slaughtering or exiling half of its remaining army. My father still maintained many possessions, and we escaped the castle with them. However, Charosia is now under Dorian rule and slowly subverting as a nation.

But that’s in the past now. The prince and his bride woke up on this sunny morning, I’m sure, with the thought that their wedding would go smoothly and so would their marriage as Velpis grips the kingdom more and more with his political tendrils. As I am speaking this, they are currently holding that ceremony. I fantasized about that wedding and what is taking place, there; everything is usual and calm. The town nearby where I’m at is all in celebration about the wedding, but little do they know what is brewing. Little do they know anything.

Few people are wondering where I’m at, standing on top of a glyph on my own hill. From here I see the castle of Doria across a flat landscape, built on a hill itself, its castle towers soaring towards the sky. Doria was built in what looks like a big crater, its castle perched right in the middle of it. I’m drinking water from my pewter chalice with my sister Wilfreyna standing nearby, ready to go down to the town nearby and celebrate with them. Also here with me is my friend, Klag, a noble in old Charosia who is in doubt about the political climate there. Wilfreyna never even said good-bye as she left, skipping down the hill. Always full of energy, Klag stated of her departure; he is also full of energy.

Ophinia will be meeting with me later on to discuss a deal I made with her in light of the marriage happening today. She’s older than Velpis, and is being pressured by her father, the king, to marry knight champion Deldric. We met before and what started out as a normal conversation turned into me giving her advice about why she has not yet fallen in love with the decorated knight who makes about any woman in the kingdom swoon over him. She thinks she’s resistant to his allure because he’s not proven his love to her.

I had disagreed and told her that she was once associated with a real man, her father perhaps, and he does not stand up next to him because he’s a hollow human being without virtue. A woman does not know how to love at birth, and so she meets a man who becomes her guardian: often this man is her father or an older brother or something of the sort. She admires her guardian unconditionally but is too young to feel bridal love for that person. As she grows older, she blossoms into an adult, and so when she meets someone who betters her guardian, that is, her exemplar of love, she will fall madly in love with him and marry him. This is a Charosian teaching that she’s not been exposed to; the Dorians believe that there’s one man that exists out there who will be a perfect husband and destiny will put them together. They also don’t often wait around for that man to come, but get bridal at all opportunities with men to test them to see whether they are the perfect husband. Rather than debating, she was surprisingly very curious about it, and I couldn’t help but feel a part of myself being drawn to her, to wanting to paint on the open canvas, but I silenced that attraction and dismissed it simply because she has beautiful dark eyes.

These days, people never let me forget that I’m Charosian; even though I had given her advice, she dismissed it, saying that I simply didn’t understand her point of view. I get this treatment all the time. Of course, I wear my Charosian style as I am proud of it. We’re characterized by clothing that’s asymmetrical. I’m wearing a yellow shirt with red stars on one side that’s red on the other side with yellow circles. My pants are solid black; all of them are black or gray. People criticize my clothing just like they criticize my culture as being weak. In all fairness, I treat them no differently.

You’re bitter because Segisa here was the love of your life and you let her slip away. You lost, didn’t you? she said to me that night in the castle when Segisa brought me to meet her. Of course, Ullidus lost after being betrayed, so I must have lost after having betrayed, too, right? Dorian logic. Plus, Segisa’s present, so it was a question reeking of spiteful tact rather than curiosity.

Ophinia and I had argued after that and I made her angry, so things got off on the wrong foot. She had left rudely that night - which was hard to take seriously in such a pristine setting: the white bricked and spotless castle. She was looking for a reason to hate me because I had offended her in saying that Deldric wasn’t the right man she was to marry, saying that she had a guardian before. She accused me of trying to steal her away from him. I said it was ridiculous, though I’d be lying if I wasn’t at least a little tempted. Segisa reminded me five minutes later, in a moment that briefly renewed my affection for her, that I’m not the haughty type, that I’ll be patient, and she’ll come back to talk to me. Ophinia did return, and we got along a little better after that. I never blamed her for being upset; she sought warmth, and I knew this lived in the depths of her heart, and yet I was being cold and openly displaying my assumptions and trying to portray an image of intellect rather than simply listening to her.

Ophinia found me difficult to tolerate during that meeting despite her curiosity, but Segisa played a strong diplomat - telling her I did not mean it when I said things that crossed her and translating the assuming things I said into something a lot more palatable. Some of it got lost in translation, but probably for the better.

Sorry, I’d say to her out of telling her a harsh truth rather than retracting what I’d say.

I’m always going to believe that telling the truth is the courtesy, not making it bearable to hear. Listen, Vontaro, you are too rigid in your beliefs! Can’t you see what Doria’s done? What my brother is doing? We’re creating a new age! You and I will share ideas and learn from one another, for I see that you are a bright mind. Sadly, she doesn’t know that this isn’t the way truth works.

So she retreated again after that to go freshen up; Segisa had told me to be more polite with her and see that she is trying to reach out to me, but I am not trying to reach out to her. But again, diplomacy can’t find a middle ground to the truth. The wealth is with me. Dorians have very little access to it, even those strongly devoted to Staljhinism. Despite my wealth, I suppose, there is an optimal method to do things, but I have not yet found a perfect diplomat nor have I perfected the method. It does not change that the wealth is with me.

Ophinia had come back five minutes later, and I think she had changed her gown! She was wearing something golden before, but this dress was whiter. Her wavy thick black hair now hung gracefully at her shoulders rather than being tied back, and her face was still pretty though I notice her eyes a little more. The change was peculiar. Was she trying to impress me?

So, Ophinia said, neatly folding her hands on the smooth oak table of the meeting room we were sitting in fine brass upholstered chairs with red cushions. Am I fooling myself? I shook my head, wondering if my brain was playing tricks on me. Segisa gave me a glare as if I was supposed to say something in particular.

So I tried to dig a little deeper with my guardian proposition. She said before she’d get to that, she wanted me to talk about my ideal girl as if it was some sort of flirt. I didn’t react much to it. I ended up describing this fortune teller I know so as to not describe Segisa since she’s sitting right here, it not being important for her to know, and she explained, Well first of all, he should be a man whose passion exceeds his need to be popular. I know that seems like an impossible thing, but I have seen it before. I’ve never once been able to a find a man with that trait alone. I shrugged, wondering whether she’s even known many other men in her life, but she continued, Segisa tells me your passion exceeds your aim for prestige though, because you’re so unpopular?

My unpopularity is not so much the fault of my passion as it is a failure for me to acquire the credibility it takes for people to listen to my council. If I could, I’d be prestigious, but not for my sake, rather for the sake of my words being of some worth to those around me. What’s demanded for me to make a convincing statement is what would sacrifice the essence of that statement rendering me into a most unusual paradox.

Ophinia inspected me with large curious eyes. Is she actually listening to me? Why is she not discrediting me as a Charosian? Am I frustrating her because I’m getting to her? And she followed up with more curious questions about my beliefs.

You play like you are cold, Vontaro, but there is a warmth in you; yet, I cannot access it. Lucky will be the one who does, she prophesied to me. So much for me landing a princess, huh? I think she's into knights.

A kindly, young serving lady came into the room, setting pastries and tea onto the table in a neat setting, and politely pouring the tea in all three cups. Segisa and Ophinia know what to do with theirs. I looked at mine and asked, How am I drinking this?

Ophinia nearly did a spit take, while Segisa again shot a glance of warning towards me. It’s like my ignorance to snoot standards is embarrassing her.

You put it in your mouth, Ophinia replied with a snigger. And you swallow?

I don’t want to make an ass of myself, I said with a slight grin. She’s adding sugar… you’re adding cinnamon… it only decorates the bitterness, so I just drink it flat.

And? Ophinia questioned with brows raised, kissing the edge of the cup to take a sip.

I’m thinking… if it means to taste bitter… why decorate the bitterness?

I could see them both suddenly getting self conscious about their methods of decorating their tea like they knew I was onto them, Segisa silently communicating with Ophinia in stares. I didn’t question it further. The damage is done, so I casually changed the subject, Princess, have you ever been in love before?

Once, she said, her eyes suddenly eclipsed with dreariness.

What happened to him? He died, didn’t he?

Do I have a mean surprised for her.

This is inappropriate for you to be asking.

I suppose, I mumbled, observing that it’s not about how she feels but how appropriate it is for me to ask. I conceded, You have a point.

I’m not going to tamper further on the matter because I believe I know more than she lets on. Any hungry man knows to eat his meals one bite at a time, and so I took the pastry from the dish and picked bites with my fingers to put in my mouth. She was still dreary. She’ll want to forget about it but that’s not going to happen.

Could this love persist? She is Charosian in potency, truly. But her prophecy stands true for me; I am inaccessible to her because she is too far beneath me; I see already too much about her and she sees too little about me.

The seed was planted. When Segisa left us alone and I spoke with her privately, I made her a deal for her sake, one which requires her to put the situation to the test. She asked what I had in mind, but I told her that I could help her find the warmth she looked for. She was cynical about it, but I knew the truth and had to navigate her through the brambles of not being familiar with me. I had to devise a way for her and a friend of mine to spend time together, which would have serious ramifications to the kingdom if not done properly since they cannot have a princess go missing without anyone accounting for it -- the only other way would involve a zenegron prancing about the castle, and that was not going to work either; let's just say this pristine white palace would soon turn into Ullidus if we entertained that idea.

The plan formulated over the next few weeks.

I was coming up with it while walking back to my hill that evening, and it was nearly complete in my mind by the time I went to sleep. I started to talk with my contacts in Charosia the very next day, trying to arrange a secret meeting in the country outside the knowledge of the Dorians. I feared nothing that night with this plan in mind; I was at the lowest point of my life.

Klag of Ergaddon accompanied me back to Doria as part of the procedure, and so we’ve arrived to the wedding day, but I don’t know if he’s sticking around or not. He’s pacing behind me, drumming rhythms with his palm against the pommel of his prized sword.

He gets much the same reactions I do. He’s a tall, muscular man in his late twenties, dark shaggy hair mopping down his head, his eyes a radiant light green. While that might be considered handsome, he is dressed in the purple and teal coat of arms with dyed black gloves, britches, and boots that are characteristic of Charosian knights who have trained under Leathsay IV, and despite their honour, they receive only dishonour among Dorians. He’s a noble cousin I occasionally spend time with as we ponder our tomorrows feeling mostly unwelcome in the new greater Doria.

Klag of Ergaddon is disconnected mostly from my other noble cousins as he’s just trying to survive a day by day existence like I am. Right now we’re waiting for the moment to go back to town, though I’m not quite so eager to return as today is pity Vontaro day for obvious reasons. He doesn’t say anything about it as he lets me gaze into the distance to Doria’s castle on this bright sunny day. It amuses him more than rouses his pity, my situation. He stopped, letting the sound of the wind take over the setting, and finally asked, You think she’ll go with it?

I didn’t answer it because it was the fourth time he asked the silly question as if I knew the future. He playfully pulled out his sword. The sun rays glinted from the weapon in the corner of my eye as he played a game with himself where he’d kick a rock in the air and he’d bat it with the bunt of the blade. He cracked a rock into the wilderness below us. He cracked another one, hitting it at almost exactly the same location. More and more, he’d set another pebble onto his foot, kick it into the air, and crack it down the hill to watch it roll, his sword glinting my eye every time. If anyone saw him, they’d think he was a boy in a grown man’s body. He finally sheathed the sword, finishing his practice exercise. I could tell he was bored when he started conversation again.

Do you think you’ll ever find another one like her, Vontaro?

He looked at me expectantly as I pondered things further. I wanted to give him an intelligent answer to that as I took my time to think about it. I wonder if we do look silly in these clothes and trying to be the different for the sake of being different. That thought didn’t last long as I brushed my fingers through my curly ginger hair, taking a sip of my chalice again.

One does not replace girls like Segisa, do they? I said.

You look like murder, Vontaro, like you’re about to snap and kill ten people in a rage, he joked.

Do I look like this? Is this what you would do in my situation? Watching the whole world celebrate on a day that depresses you? I looked at him calmly to see if he sees murder in my eyes.

Doesn’t depress me; does it depress you? I think it’s kind of joyful, he said carefully.

Well it’s not so joyful to me, though I can’t say I’m not excited—to know we access the heart of the kingdom may grant us a source of influence. I turned my head to look at castle Doria, and then looked at the town nearby, the one my sister and I frequent and have made friends at. It’s calm for me; silent actually and I can pretend to feel misery through it, but I do not think I feel anything at all. This love was written in the stars; she’ll have a great choice to make. I saw something that night. Curiosity—she is intrigued; she's looking for answers and I possess it through Zeltym.

So wait then, he thought out loud, I don’t think Hectar will approve with that marriage, not unless he reverts.

This marriage was written by something more powerful than Hectar, I declared a little more powerfully than I wanted to sound.

I started taking steps towards the edge of the hill that overlooks the town, and stared back into the wilderness at the road that leads down there from our humble estate up here, quietly calculating in my head the hour I should be leaving for the meeting before heading to the festivities. I spoke further, Klag, this kingdom will burn in the desires of greedy hearts who manipulate the ignorant towards their insolent causes, but the least we can do is to try to rescue the elect from their ignorant state. You’re still in full support of this plan?

I don’t see how it can be done, spoke Klag in doubtful tones. Why fight a war that we’re just going to lose? They make good bread, want a piece?

Of Dorian bread?

Yes, Dorian bread. I bought a loaf at the market in your town.

I grew up to Dorian bread, I said to him of the bread, which is sweet tasting but gives me indigestion and makes it more difficult to sleep at night. I think we should probably head out soon—

Just say no, Vontaro. Sometimes you say three sentences when three words will do. That’s the thing about you that the rest of the nobles wonder—here you are spending your time on a vain effort when you could do something more worthwhile of your time, like running a temple. He took out his Dorian loaf and picked off a few pieces to chew it, then muffling words out of his mouth while eating, Their bread, their holidays, Staljhin. Isn’t it all the same in the end and we should just join the winning side?

So what, we stop reading? I suggested defensively, half-annoyed at his doubt, And you’d give your sword skills to a treacherous nation? They say it takes three generations to forget; we're the first.

But they’re winning, he pointed the obvious, Your sister seems pretty happy to me, and I could live here.

If you don’t know why you’re a Charosian, then you might as well be a Dorian.

Come on, Vontaro! I’ve given my life to old Charosia, my skill, my arms. My armour and sword are made of Charosian steel. I put in the work. I won't forget, but I'm only asking what other people are going to ask, and what will you tell them. This is our new reality.

I sighed and walked away from him because he’s always really sensitive to these things, then saying, But the ones that are most easily subverted are the ones who don’t know why they do what they do. Do you know what it is to be Charosian? What our beliefs are? Why you choose us over them?

They claim the rigidity of Charosian teaching is why we’re losing the rhetorical war against Doria and why all the inhabitants in the four other kingdoms will eventually subvert to what’s left of the Staljhin state, a state which in itself is being called into doubt by prince Velpis. Velpis hopes to sweep these spiritual ghosts away from his lands because they create resistance to his will. Klag ate the bread of Doria more zealously, clearly having been hungry.

What I mean, I carried on, Is that your will is built by being in a constant state of doubt rather than obedience. You question being Charosian because the masses are flocking to the Dorians. Then you open the books, read, and figure out why you are what you are, and that the masses are drawn to an illusion.

And doubt was written in his eyes as he looked at the bread. I could tell I affected him.

I spoke further, You don’t know… that’s why you don’t see… we are what we do… not what we say we are…

Klag then slowly walked over to me with a suspicious step and stopped before me, then hugging me, You’re sad. You really are… he said drearily, like he was confirming what many have said to him.

I shook my head and shrugged in the discomfort of the situation, If one lives as much in doubt as I do, I’ll be less inclined to speak channeling my emotions. See—that’s also part of being Charosian. We pursue perfection, not popularity.

He patted my back and then let go.

Really—you think they’re right? I asked him. I’ve studied long and hard… I’ve worked tricks that haven’t been seen in hundreds of years… I helped tame a dragon… and I’m just channeling anger? I’m trying to appeal to your intelligence… not your sympathy… why would you think I need a hug?!

With you it’s a guessing game, he said hurriedly, You’re weird, Vontaro.

I backed away from him to gaze at the town once again, inspecting the steeple of the temple of Staljhin they built there that’s seen its numbers dwindling. Klag is still busy trying to figure me out though not doing it successfully. He’s an odd character himself. I’m telling him what it is to be Charosian; suddenly, he takes this all to mean I’m trying to appeal to his emotions. I took out a brass talisman I have and pointed it to the sun, using it to read the approximate time of day by looking at the angle and needles on the glass adjusted to the days of the year. He asked, You use these little devices and you never explain what they do, yet you ask us to take you at your word: how do we know?

You don’t, I said to Klag, But if you don’t advance your mind, how is it you’ll be able understand me to weigh whether I’m authentic or not?

I figure some people to use powers. I’m more a swordsman so I work on my prowess with the blade.

I don't have powers. I'm simply drinking from a font. Death shadows it all, so men can only whet their minds—how else are you going to know up from down? I asked him, waving out the town as an example. Klag, they’re not empty by juxtaposition. They don’t have to do as they’re told. They’re being lazy with their spirit. Knowledge is a choice—not a capability. It’s there for the taking. You choose to be ignorant.

But you’re one teacher, he complained. How is it that all of Charosia and Doria are wrong and you’re right? Because you really have to think about that… I can’t learn what you know.

What did I just say? I frustratedly emitted, then realizing I may be getting hot for nothing, calming my voice once more. Listen, Klag, everyone can learn what I know and do you think this is my career? A spirit is not a job or a career! It’s a call for rationality—a divine purpose—something that helps clear the path for all of the decisions we make in life, the foundation of all learning—something everyone needs!

You’re not working, said Klag, his arms spread out wide, walking out towards the morning sun. Here’s the thing that we’re all seeing. You’re putting all this work into something that people don’t need! And you’re calling us lazy but you’re not making gold! If you’re looking to reach out to us and the Dorians, why aren’t you at least making gold so that you have a voice that people might respect and listen to?

I wanted to throw up my shield against his challenges, but instead of being hasty, I pondered whether I’d just be proving his point if I were stubborn; I instead said, I'm a sword a Dorian wouldn't know how to use. I never knew what kind of tool I was supposed to be. I then twisted and turned the time-keeping talisman I held at my fingertips.

We all start somewhere.

And most of us never move on from that place, but remain trapped, and how do I know I won’t be?

I don’t think you would be, Vontaro, he appealed.

We all start somewhere and maybe this is my start, I spoke in a stable voice, Though I don’t really know where it’ll all lead—this isn’t really my—

A pebble landed at our feet and rolled by, interrupting me. I turned my head and saw Wilfreyna dressed up unsuitably in a short white dress and showing a lot more of herself than I would care to see; she feels that if one has it, they should flaunt it—such ideologies that elude me because I would think you’d make your future husband feel special with your goods, not make him feel like everyone else has had it first.

Her hair was all straightened out, so she must have spent most of this time on it. She’s always tried to play the part of the innocent girl but can’t hide her flamboyance and her need for experience, which counters the very thing she’s trying to present. She’s a pretty girl, sure—even though what beauty means to Dorians and what it means to Charosians are two vastly different things. She has smooth skin that’s taken on one colour since she’s become an adult, as well as flowing brown hair that reminds me of my late mother, and light blue eyes that are usually cheery. She also wears high leather boots that stop just below her knees that are well travelled. Her dress she made herself as she’s taken on apprenticeship as a couturier.

Wilfreyna, Klag acknowledged, showing excitement, We thought you had left to the town already! What are you doing here?

What are you doing here? Wilfreyna asked, trotting over to us, I need you to be my handsome escort in town, Klag! But take that ugly coat of arms off first.

You know I can’t do that?

Come on, Klag—you’re more level-headed than my stubborn brother, surely you’ll have a little bit of fun with us at the dance fire as he’s off moping in the woods. These people really know a good time.

I gave Klag a look like he would be a fool if he let her serenade him with these lowly persuasions. He knows, inside, that he wants to go with her. He’s only been in Doria a handful of times, and he might want to take part in their culture a little.

If you want to follow her—? I spoke in a low tone.

You’re all right, Klag said. I mean, you don’t need a hug.

I nodded, so he continued, You don’t mind if I go, then?

It only starts in six hours, so go ahead. They’re also celebrating tomorrow. They do interesting rituals so they’re still not entirely disconnected from their faith. If you want to follow her—and I won’t object to it—go ahead and I’ll meet you in town in four hours.

He started pacing with her down the path that goes towards the town while I caught sight of the glyph on the ground. C’mon Vontaro, what could you possibly have to do here? asked Wilfreyna. She came up to me and grabbed my wrist, trying to pull me away. I resisted, so she shrugged and surrendered.

Go! I snapped, Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.

Sorr-y! she slowly said, spinning around as if to cast away my attitude, then going back alongside Klag. We try to reach out to you—but no, you hide. So things don't work out your way; find another way and stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Just go, I told her, Ill follow." I started pacing behind them as they walked the two of them side-by-side, Wilfreyna waving her arms with every step with excitement, even dancing a little in her trot, trying to get us into the festivities. She knows how I feel about the marriage and how Segisa was a woman I thought I’d marry; Segisa liked me throughout her teens, but I suppose I was too blind to see it while pursuing my identity.

So, said Klag during the walk, You are following us then. We are going the same direction after all. And you wanted to go by yourself.

Hooray, Wilfreyna said with subtle sarcasm, This walk will probably be eclipsed by his mood. That’s okay, though; the cheer will eventually breach his thick hide.

The first few minutes of the walk, I sunk into myself, thinking about ways to make this situation work to my advantage somewhere or somehow; I suppose what makes this all harder is that there probably won’t be anything in it for me.

I see why you’re sunny, Wil, you have to be around him, Klag commented, nodding to Wil. She threw her nose in the air and smiled at the praise as she always did.

I opened up the time-keeper talisman and looked into it. Encased inside was a scrawl of Segisa that I drew shortly after she started seeing Velpis. It was never meant to go this far with him, I thought this was a perfect lesson for her as she would see the truth in him and his poisonous teachings and come straight back to me. The problem is that the more I pressed my nose into the situation, the more spiteful she got because she kept pointing out that I had years and years to secure her heart.

Well, that’s that, I murmured. I then flung the talisman into the nearby bushes, never wanting to see that object again.

I know that I’m a sentimental guy, and if I keep reflecting back on this moment and on this day, I’ll just continue to relive my miseries over and over. I know this because I had another powerful memory that represents the hopelessness that’s taken over my life since I’ve had it. So instead of dwelling on this moment, I choose to look forward to make sure that I’m always at the edge of my wit, I choose to be a man that lives on despite my losses, I choose to always try to be better than I was yesterday, and I choose to pursue my ambition even if it would never come to fruition… the point is, I’m going to die someday, and dwelling on the never is a waste of time when the future can hold so much. I’m going to die doing what I do best, even if it means never winning. I guess some people just weren’t meant for glory.

Chapter 02: Obedience Isn’t Always Intelligence

Ophinia

Several years has passed since the sadness I endured in my late teenage years, but little has changed in my life since then other than my optimism. The sun still rises and falls over the kingdom and promises of doom and gloom are never fulfilled; I’m ashamed to say it’s to my disappointment because something just isn’t right about the world we live in.

Now I’m fittingly living at a ruined black castle here in Ullidus as a captive.

I’m here and doing repair garden work on the courtyard of the black castle, even though it lies hopelessly in ruins. Only two of its four original towers remain, the exposed levels look as though a man received a mortal blow to his ribs with a morning star, the choice weapon of the Staljhin Crusades that destroyed this once enlightened kingdom.

That annoying dark rasp interrupted my silence, Work harder. Come on. Work!

He’s guising his own voice. He then slapped me on the hind, immediately causing my upper body to sprout out like a muskrat.

Don’t stop! he said. I was going to protest but my shock at the situation prevented words from escaping my lips. He’s just not the type of person who does that or so I would think. Then again he seems to like preventing me from thinking. We’ve only been together a short time. Somehow I still feel very comfortable with him. It’s like he’s as hard as the armour he wears and I could never break him with my words.

He momentarily walked away, but then walked back.

Why do you slow your pace? he asked.

Patience, I told him.

Patience is for meditation, but here you have a job to do. Don’t ever stop moving your hands, or else you’ll fall in love with idleness.

I sighed.

Oh, you object? he spoke, still behind me.

I’m on it …

Zeltym’s enjoying this too much—but why do I like the way he’s treating me? His intricate purple armour was carefully crafted by Charosian smiths. His spaulders, gauntlets, boots, and skirt are all lined with gold. The most intricate thing he wears is the helmet, which has an ornate grid in front of his mask to hide his facial features so much so that I can’t tell the colour of his eyes.

Staying at this castle is like sleeping in a crypt with spiders and roaches crawling on my pillow. Plus, it feels haunted; people died here! The gray linen dress I have is already ruined and I now look like a peasant in it. I have no working drawers. The table I eat at is rickety and about to fall apart; that’s okay, I’m only eating dry bread and water anyway. Three weeks ago, I slept in a canopy bed like it was a crib with only the smell of incense in my pillow. I wore whites, greens, and blues sewn in richly woven fabrics. I had too many drawers that my father, the king, insisted I fill. The marble table I sat at was worth more than most houses, and always filled with food during all my meals.

And they never cared whether or not I would go fat or anything, because the reality of it is that I became fat during my sadness. My handmaidens would all deny it as well, since princesses are supposed to be flattered and yet this denial was flat out insulting. I always had a pretty face, though, with shining dark eyes, a mature and jolly grin, and very soft black hair. I only committed myself to losing the weight when I figured out a peasant’s portion and ate that instead. I remember the old ladies trying to teach me the royal life were always trying to arm me with their futile traditions as though the reason I was sad was because I was stopping myself from becoming the person I was meant to be. Well my mirror never gave me that answer as I stared long and hard at it those days, and the only explanations I ever got was that I wasn’t committed.

You’re not obeying Staljhin and are being cursed for your sins, one finally said, Fulfill your duty to Staljhin and to Doria, and stop asking questions.

A loving truth would never hide—I figure it would welcome questions, but they never did. Did that make truth unloving or them into liars? Another question.

Zeltym went to draw out his dragon from the bed he had constructed it where the kitchen used to be in the black castle.

Calm your nerves! he called out, vainly heralding his own approach.

The dragon frightens me, because at any time it could decide that it’s hungry, roast me with its flames, and have me for breakfast. Yet Zeltym trusts the creature with his life, as though it had the intelligent countenance of a human being, with loyalty and alliegance towards his allies—I doubt the creature is so sentient as he treats it.

Rather than stand up for his pageantry, I lowered to my knees once more to uproot the dried bush that I had been working on and doing so with a heavy iron rod. As I was leaning on the rod to try to uproot the bush, one of the branches scratched my face as I tripped into it. I touched my face to confirm the blood, immediately suffocating my urge to cry in favour of my urge to change—but I was frustrated.

He came out riding his dragon as though it were his pride and joy, while I immediately froze up before it. It’s about the size of a house, with purple scales that look harder than turtle shells, and horns all over his head and his lower back and tail. It has what looks like a grinning demeanour as though it mirrors the pride of the dark knight riding him. Its wings are gigantic, each like twenty-five kites sewn into its batlike wings. I always forget how big and scary it is, the same feeling I get when I behold a spider; I hope this feeling goes away.

Stop that! Zeltym said, climbing off the dragon’s shoulder as the dragon regarded me with his giant topaz eyes.

How many times do I have to tell you to keep him away from me?! What was ever wrong with dogs and cats?

Zenegrons command majesty; cats command… mice and rats, said he in his most arrogant tones. Zeltym then touched the dragon on the neck, and brought his face in closer to me, and I could already tell my mouth was gaping wide and he could smell my fear.

The dragon scented my fear, as well, because he snorted a bit of black smoke in my direction, and so Zeltym said, Unlike your castle, when we have a problem here, you can’t just throw gold at it until it goes away. A dragon commands respect rather than fear. What’s the difference? You want to be with those you respect, but away from those you fear. You with me?

I lost all sense of fear for a few moments as I rolled my eyes to his comments and his chuckling. I said, I know the difference between respect and fear!

Then why are you afraid? he asked.

Because! I said, struggling for an answer. I don’t have to tell you!

He chuckled some more.

You’re just afraid to admit that you’re making a bad decision, just like the king. The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree! he pointed out.

I clenched my fist upon hearing that because I am nothing like my brother and am nothing like my father, and I don’t know why Vontaro would leave me with such a boisterous and ignorant man! I then realized that the king would respond to personal criticism with anger and surrendered it before coming forth like a hypocrite, loosening the grips of my hand.

I don’t throw gold at my problems, I said, breathing out through my nose, You may think I do, but here I am doing garden work for your hopelessly destroyed castle and not in mine throwing servants and gold at it.

Zeltym inspected me with a slight head tilt, but that wretched helmet prevents me from having a human conversation with him. Every time we talk, it’s like there’s more to be said, but I can’t say it to him with that mask in the way. Every ounce of my body doesn’t want to be here, yet something beyond my body calls to me. I theorized that it was Vontaro or Zeltym. My feelings are however manifested in this situation. I’m not running to them for their beauty; I’m running away from Doria for its ugliness.

So what’s your move, then? asked Zeltym, thinking he’s all majestic in his mask, but looking like a six-year-old on a wooden playground like a derelict catapult covering their heads with rags. I suppose his ravaged lands of Charosia might hide its scars from the Staljhin Crusades with the resilence of its people the same way he is hiding scars on his face, but it does neither of us any favours.

Nothing, I still work, I proudly suggested.

You think that self-absorbed grunt is going to take any notice of this situation?

Oh, that’s rich—how cute it is that this knight is attracted to me; I may sometimes be oblivious, but I’m certainly not oblivious when one tries to belittle his competition in hopes to gain respectability.

Girls see right through that, you know? Do you think you won’t drown if you’re pushing him under? Knights can’t swim in their chains.

And not everything is about you, retorted Zeltym.

What could you possibly have against someone so insignificant to you? I asked him straight. I like to get to the heart of these matters right away because I hate games, but I need him to admit his interest first.

He brought one of his gauntlet hands to one of the broaches of his splayed cloak and hung it there as the dragon considered him.

He is nothing what a knight should be, and abuses his prestigious position in society, he scornfully uttered.

A little dramatic? He’s just a rabbit, I said to him to lighten the mood. What an act.

Your priorities are skewed, spoke Zeltym in playful tones once more, You show no anger towards a man for being an exemplar of vanity, yet you’re scared of a harmless zenegron!

Harmless! Look at this size of it, and its eyes, and its horns…

Zeltym started to motion the dragon’s head come in closer within his reach—I naturally retreated like he was inviting a nest of wasps—so he looked back over to me and shook his head slightly as though to make a statement… but there’s not a whole lot I can do with the yes or no statements he gives me wearing that stupid mask.

We both know that you’re brave, Ophinia, so touch the zenegron’s face and reveal your courage! he challenged, lowering his mechanical head.

I am… not… touching no dragon! No way! I protested, cutting my hands to the side in absolute refusal. You guys may have put the sackcloth over my head the first night… ha ha… where are we going? Secret travel route! I get it, you knew I’d be scared, but with reason! I folded my arms to declare my stance. I was flying and they told me they were casting a teleportation spell. Magic doesn't even exist, but I trusted them for some reason or other.

Zeltym paused, regarding me, turning his metal ribbed chin towards the dragon, then regarding me again. Very well then… it’s not like we liked the screaming the whole way here, he said as he removed his gauntlet to pat the dragon’s nose, the dragon slowly shutting its topaz eyes the way a cat does when it’s comfortable. I knew that this is a battle I would eventually lose and that I would eventually have to touch the dragon’s face as this fear-fear relationship can’t go on much longer. It’s just that I want him to know that he’s not my boss, and I won’t do everything he says like a hungry puppy. I must maintain my dignity. The castle seems a lost cause, but he is not; he has a lot of humanity left and he is merely playing games with me, which I will entertain for now. I know he likes me.

Segisa

Things had been so hectic up until the wedding, and just as I thought I was about to get a break, things got even more troublesome the day after. Of course, the first night went along smoothly right up until eight o’clock before the king summoned us to his chambers in wondering where princess Ophinia had gone. Nobody’s seen her since, but I suspect my husband knows something about it and isn’t telling me. My husband…

I’m telling you, Velpis, Deldric’s arrogant and hunky voice spoke within earshot of me, I won’t tell anyone—nobody—and you know I keep my promises like how I didn’t squirrel on you about how you rattled your wife before the actual marriage.

Keep it down, you idiot! Velpis urged him in his sharp, intelligent voice, before toning down to nearly a whisper, I never even told you that! And I wouldn’t have if you didn’t walk in on us! You never announce your presence.

You always tell me to walk right in, Velpis, said Deldric, Now you want me to herald myself.

If I have my lady present, then it goes without saying that you must herald yourself, you goon, Velpis growled.

Velpis and he carried their voices in quieter tones now that I could no longer hear. I sensed it was more of his usual frustration of dealing with people who don’t understand him, and more of his boastful ignorance.

I’m sitting on the side of a hill near a royal encampment at a town nearby the castle and town of Doria, about a half hour wagon ride away, which is the one I grew up in with my close friends. Behind me is Velpis’ tent, which is facing towards the other way, towards the bonfire, where Deldric is trying to pry out of him the reason that we’re out on this excursion with a troop of royal guards to begin with. Velpis has also called for a rally of the armies, for whatever reason, to meet us at a wilderness encampment, but he is still being secretive about it. I’m playing the nice girl and am not prying into matters, but following him faithfully and seeing if I could be of any service to him perhaps if merely to keep him intelligent company or keep his bed warm at night.

It’s otherwise quiet as the other guards are only standing nearby in case Velpis blows the royal horn in an emergency. The crickets are having a symphony in the grasses on the hill in front of me that lead to the lights of the town village where they are having a festival, and the crackling of the bonfire with Deldric’s babbling voice and Velpis’ snarky answers behind me. We’re into the spring, and so the scents of spring keep my thoughts in a mellow place. Other than this emergency, I don’t think I could be happier.

We’ve been camped here a night already and are camping for tonight and the next morning we depart, I for my father’s estate for a day. Earlier this evening, I went to the town to meet up with some friends that I couldn’t invite to the wedding. I saw Wilfreyna dancing with several boys at the bonfire. Cal, a mutual friend, had been gazing at her longingly most of the evening while Anya tried to get him to dance. Vontaro was, as usual, just sitting there glum and doing nothing, Anya trying