“I think I’m getting used to the cold,” U-ri said, smiling at him. “Probably thanks to these vestments.”
“I would think so,” the devout said. He sounded concerned. “Just a moment, I’ll bring you some tea.”
U-ri went up the stairs. Ash was sitting with his legs up on the table, slouching against the back of his chair.
“Satisfied?”
She walked into the middle of the room, then sat down, opening her vestments and hugging her knees to her chest for warmth. “Did the people without magical robes like mine all freeze to death here?”
Ash raised both eyebrows and snorted.
“Or was there a plague? Or a war? How many years’ worth of graves is that out there? They didn’t all die at the same time, did they?” She stared at the wolf. “What are you doing here, Ash?”
Finally the smirk faded from Ash’s face. “You’ve not read The Haetlands Chronicle, I gather.”
“Nope. I hadn’t even heard of it until you told me.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. It’s not the kind of book a girl your age goes out of her way to read. I’m not even sure it’s been translated into a language you can read.” Ash removed his feet from the table and sat up straight with a rustling of clothes. “This country has been an independent country for one thousand years. The Haetlands Chronicle is its history.”
U-ri nodded for him to go on.
“As I showed you before, on the globe, the Haetlands is so small as to be easily covered by one fingertip. Yet war rages here incessantly. Other countries invade, or we invade them. There have been civil wars too. We have been entangled in such a war for the last one hundred and fifty years.”
“Don’t you have a government?”
“We do. There is a royal house, and a parliament beneath made up of nobles and those from the privileged classes. We are in essence a kingdom. But there are several bloodlines within the royal house. And they love to feud amongst themselves. That is what leads to our internal strife.”
“But it’s such a small country!”
“Perhaps they fight so viciously because the stakes are so small.” Ash leaned forward. “If your grip were to extend just far enough, you could seize this entire kingdom for your own—so do men suffer greed and delusions of grandeur.”
Sky came up from downstairs carrying a heavy-looking tray in both hands. The tray held a large silver pot and some polished silver cups. U-ri hadn’t expected anything fancy, and for a moment all she could do was stare.
“There’s no plastic or vinyl in this world,” Ash said with a chuckle at U-ri’s surprised expression.
“I knew that, I guess. Just…that’s a very beautiful pot.”
“Silver is strong. And good against poisons,” he explained casually.
Good against poisons?
“As there is little point in wasting our time with a lengthy history lecture, I’ll merely touch upon the major points. We don’t need to go back the whole one thousand years. What concerns us most is the last century and a half.”
Taking a silver cup from the tray, Ash continued. “The civil war that began one hundred fifty years ago and continues to this day is, simply put, a feud between two brothers in the royal house. Half brothers, to be precise. They never did get along, even as children. When they became adults, they gathered loyal retainers around them, raised armies, and took their struggle to the field of battle.”
The first round of fighting had gone on for ten years and left most of the country devastated. Then, fearing that the Haetlands would be utterly destroyed, the nobles intervened and compelled the brothers to come to an agreement. Kings would be chosen from both of their lineages, alternating every generation.
“Yet when it came to their grandchildren’s generation—though only thirty years had passed since the accord—both camps began to eye each other with envy. They struggled for rank and territory, found fault with one another and with the terms of their treaty, each trying to claim the right of secession for their bloodline alone. With both sides equally engaged in such foolishness, there was little hope of stopping it.”
It took another few generations—about fifty years, Ash explained—for their struggles to once again spread to the general populace. When the conflict had been confined within the bounds of the royal city and palace, the Haetlands had gradually recovered its strength. Fields once burned grew green, cities were rebuilt, and trade with their neighbors had increased.
“This village of Kanal was founded just in the last fifty years. Man did not live in places like this before. The villagers here now are the grandchildren of the original settlers.”
But, as abundance returned to the land, the struggles of the royal house grew fiercer. The richer the lands one side held, the more eagerly the other side fought to claim them.
“Fifty-seven years ago, in the ninth month of the 877th year of our Holy Calendar, there was a great upheaval in the capital city. That was the start of the current round of fighting.” Ash tapped his chest lightly. “The weaver who made me wrote most vividly about those events.”
That’s right, U-ri remembered, this is all a story. A story of war.
“At the time, the elder son’s lineage had just claimed the throne, as decreed by the treaty of one hundred years before. The 17th Holy King of the Haetlands, Cadasque the Third. Incidentally, it was also one of the elder son’s lineage who started the war—the new king’s cousin, a noble yet impoverished lad by the name of Kirrick.”
Cadasque the Third was a boy-king, only eight years old. His father who had been king two generations prior had died of an illness at the age of thirty, and his successor—the current king’s uncle—died in an accident only two years after taking the throne. He had fallen from his horse during a mock battle held to honor the king’s birthday.
“Rumors of assassination surrounded both royal deaths. Tempers flared, and the arguments began to spread outside the bounds of the palace.”
At only eight years of age, the king could do little by himself. He did what his relatives, his steward, and his ministers advised him to do.
“Once again, turmoil spread through the land. Feudal lords and members of the privileged classes who thought of nothing but fattening their own bellies began to devour themselves from the inside out.”
Some of the nobles and landed gentry had begun dealings with one of the Haetlands’ neighbors across a long-disputed border. Together they hatched a plan to install a puppet government in exchange for privileged positions in the new regime.
“You know what we call their kind?” Ash asked, smiling crookedly beneath sleepy half-lidded eyes. “Traitors.” He looked at U-ri. “I’m guessing you’ve never seen a traitor yourself. They don’t have fangs, or two faces, despite what you may have heard. They look like regular folk. It’s their roots that are rotten.”
U-ri nodded. “And this boy Kirrick rose up against them?”
“That’s right. He started a rebellion—a successful rebellion at that.”
There had been several sporadic uprisings before Kirrick came on the scene. But all had been crushed by royal forces before they could spread, or undid themselves before they could pose a real threat.
“The royal army has always held the greatest portion of power in the land,” Ash went on. “There are many in this land who wish to join the army.”
“Why? I can’t believe that anyone in the royal house would have so many devoted admirers, what with the history of this place.”
Ash lifted a long finger. “For one, there is the deeply ingrained concept of ‘southern progression’—more of a desire than a concept, actually. The people of this land have long wanted to spread to the warmer territories in the south. In order to do that, we must invade another country, and for that, we must have a strong army. As I said, we have fought many wars to expand our borders—though few were successful. Next”—he lifted a second finger—“the Haetlands are a northern country. We spend more than a third of each year en
cased in ice. We are thin, with little land worth tilling. It is difficult for us to live off the bounty of the land alone. Hunting and livestock help, for certain, but it’s not enough.”
However, the Haetlands were rich under the soil. Iron, copper, gold, silver, and coal could all be found in large amounts. The mines had produced precious gems as well—diamonds and emeralds by the bucket.
“Trace the family lines back, and you’ll find most of our nobility were once in the mining business. As the landed nobles struggled with one another for access to the richest veins, the lords and their followers joined in alliances, eventually forming the kingdom as we know it today.”
Merchants, endowed with the right to trade under the watchful eyes of the nobles, soon gained power, creating another class of the wealthy and privileged. They were joined by the larger land owners, who controlled a large portion of the sparse farmland in the Haetlands.
“Though the land is poor, we are rich. At least, in certain places. There is a great disparity in wealth, which means that those with the gold require military strength to protect their privileged positions. Luckily for them, their coffers are overflowing, and they can well afford to maintain a sizable active army.”
In the Haetlands, the military also took on the task of preserving order—effectively becoming a kind of well-armed police force.
“Were I the second son of a poor farmer, my choice would be clear: I would join the army. It is more than just secure employment. To a certain extent, soldiers and keepers of the peace are given authority.”
U-ri thought about what he meant for moment. “So they go from being poor, overworked, and in danger of arrest to being well-fed and the ones doing the arresting.”
It wasn’t about loyalty to the royal house. It was about choosing sides. Did they want to be counted among the ones with wealth and power, or the ones without?
“A farmer with a single plot of land will never escape poverty, not in a lifetime. Working the mines earns better pay than farming, but the danger is commensurate. There is no guarantee you’ll keep your job, either.”
“What about merchants? Are they free to do business as they like?”
Ash explained that in order to become a merchant, royal decree stipulated that one had to join a merchant guild, for which one needed a considerable amount of collateral and the backing of a merchant already in the guild.
“Must be a whole lot of bribery going on,” Aju squeaked from U-ri’s collar, where he had been pretending to sleep since she came upstairs. “I bet it’s all over the place.”
“Enough for even a young dictionary who knows little of the world to sniff out, yes,” Ash said with a grin. “It is as you say, Aju. One cannot simply become a merchant. Some try to become officials of the state, but that requires this.” He tapped his head. “And the proper lineage. So that’s not easy, either.”
U-ri sighed. “So it’s all about where you’re born.”
“Not if you join the army. There, it’s possible to get ahead in the world through your deeds. It’s not entirely unreasonable to imagine a boy from a nobody family in a nobody village becoming a great soldier, even a general. Thus are new nobles born.”
Once systems like these became established, it was hard to overturn them, Ash explained. “The young ones who joined the army know the poor life of the farmer and the unbearable working conditions that the miner must endure. But once your own lot is steady and secure, it’s hard to get all that enthusiastic about changing the way things are.”
Which was why all of the uprisings before Kirrick had begun among the disenfranchised, the small-time farmers and mine workers. They rebelled against overtaxation or stood up in rage when mine cave-ins or pestilence claimed the lives of their friends. The people who rose up were the ones who could sink no lower.
And the ones who put them back in their places were the soldiers of the royal army.
“And none of the soldiers take the side of the people?”
“What reason would they have? Without ideals or righteous indignation, it’s hard to imagine them wanting to lift a finger to help. And even if they did have these things, they wouldn’t last three days.” Ash spoke plainly. “Even in the midst of injustice, if one’s own position is not endangered, it is only human to defend the status quo.”
“Well then,” U-ri said shrugging her shoulders, “why doesn’t everyone just join the army? Leave the mountains and their fields to rot. That would get the king and those nobles where it hurts.”
“U-ri, U-ri,” Aju squeaked, petting her cheek with the tip of his long tail. “The farmers and miners are tied to the land. It always works like that. They have laws to keep them where they are, under the watchful eye of their lord. They couldn’t leave if they wanted to. They don’t have freedom. If they tried to just run away, they’d be punished. I mean, isn’t that obvious? Haven’t you ever read a history book?”
U-ri looked at Ash. “It appears I left something out of my explanation,” he said. “You see, in order to join the army or become an official, one needs the permission of the local minister of the land. Aju is correct. The common people are not permitted to move freely.”
Many youths joined the army, but only when the land could spare them. The system took all excess labor force from localities across the kingdom, absorbing them into the government via the army, Ash explained.
“What about girls? Can they join the army too?” U-ri asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her. “Are there many female soldiers?”
Ash blinked slowly. “There are some. Mostly from the more prominent military houses whose ancestors were generals for many generations.”
“What about village girls?”
“They go to the mining towns or the farming towns to become wives and mothers, and give birth to the next generation of laborers. All while working themselves, of course,” Ash told her. “They have no freedom, either.”
“Don’t they ever rebel?”
Ash guffawed, as though he had never heard such a thing. “That…would be difficult. In places where there has been a disaster or famine, and they can no longer live there, the village girls go to the towns—” Ash’s smile vanished and U-ri thought a look of pity came into his eyes. “In order to survive, many sell themselves. Even girls your age. Without a family or proper papers, there’s little hope of finding decent work, even in the larger towns.”
“I get it, I get it,” Aju squeaked, switching his tail and climbing on top of U-ri’s shoulder. His tail stung a bit where it slapped the back of her neck. “I get what kind of place the Haetlands is. So tell me why you say Kirrick’s rebellion worked. There is still civil war, isn’t there?”
Ash crossed his legs and grunted at the mouse. “I was getting to that—perhaps I took a little too much time with the preamble.”
The tea in U-ri’s silver cup had gone completely cold.
“Kirrick’s rebellion succeeded—at first.” Ash’s eyes dropped to the floorboards beneath his feet. “Cadasque the Third was imprisoned, and his family and those stewards, retainers, and officers who didn’t bow to Kirrick were apprehended and sentenced. Kirrick was made king.
“He was of the royal bloodline, after all, so he had a claim to the throne. That was another thing that set Kirrick’s rebellion apart from all that had come before. But,” Ash added, lifting a finger, “there was another problem. The rebellions before had come about at the hands of common folk, who used nothing but their hoes and mining picks for weapons. Up against a trained, properly armed military, their weapons might as well have been made of wax. They were crushed with ease. Not so Kirrick’s army. He led neither starving farmers nor angry miners.”
“You mean he had his own army? I thought he was poor,” Aju said.
“No army at first,” Ash explained, shaking his head. “But he built one. An immortal army.”
U-ri’s eyes went wide. “Soldiers that can’t die? How’s that work?”
“They could not die because they were d
ead to begin with,” Ash told them. “Kirrick led an army of the walking dead—”
He was interrupted by Sky, who had been sitting a short distance away by the window. “Someone comes,” the devout said.
U-ri ran over to him. Getting her footing on the crossbeam, she grabbed the windowsill and lifted herself up so she could see the terrain. Below, a small child wrapped in rags was dashing through the gravestones, occasionally jumping over them, making for the entrance to the hut.
“Dmitri!” she heard him shout. “Dmitri, are you home?”
It’s a boy. U-ri peered through the snow and noticed with a start that the ironbound gate at the bottom of the hill was still closed, the padlock securely attached. How did he get inside?
“Who’s Dmitri?” Aju asked.
“Me,” Ash replied and went down the stairs.
U-ri quickly followed him as quickly and as quietly as she could—though she knew the vestments of protection hid her from both sight and sound.
The heavy door to the hut opened with a loud slam.
“Dmitri!” The boy’s eyes found Ash immediately, and a smile spread across his face. Then he shot across the room like a cannonball. “I’m so glad you’re back!”
The boy jumped and Ash—or Dmitri, rather—caught him in midair with a practiced ease.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” The boy hung on to Ash’s neck with one arm, and playfully hit Ash’s shoulder with a tightly clenched fist.
“I’ve only just returned,” Ash explained, a gentle curve to his sleepy eyes. “How did you know?”
“The smoke from your chimney,” the boy said with a triumphant chortle. He then sprang away from Ash as lightly as he had jumped to him. It was like watching a tiny acrobat at work. He didn’t just leap down, he did a backflip before landing on the floor.
U-ri stared at him. Who is this boy? Is he from a circus?
“You bring me a present?” the boy asked as he jumped about the room like an organ grinder’s monkey, snooping for hidden treasures.