บท 74: And A Judgement Table
I walked around until the evening; until little stars returned from their morning nap, hovering over the earth, under the sky.
I've seen, by then, the big church crafted with bright holiness, the walls made of purified, white stone, an earthly roof and an inviting door, painted eden-pearly, open for anyone.
I've seen, the beautiful high-buildings, steady and spacious, fading into the sardine-packed slums, like the sun faded into the horizon.
I've seen the lords manor, big and imposing (still not as big as the church though), rooted to the ground just a few feet afar from the arena—yes, the arena, which lingered in my mind the longest, the peculiar novelty not present in modern times, but also not in the typical middle ages. Only in a phantastical world governed by magic (and philosophy), in which reality is stranger than the classical fiction, there could be an arena like this.
Once more, I went through the idea of a Jugdement Table and its implications, and once more, I solidified my detest for it.
I was guided—with Agnes hovering right behind me, following me like a glaringly-red balloon would follow a child—not by my mind but by my belly, as it yearned in hunger, especially for the delicious soup made by the inn. Oh, maybe before Raya and I set out again, we could ask for the recipe? I began to move faster as these fun thoughts fueled my legs.
But before I returned I had to pass a scene which was bound to stop me on my tracks.
I saw, as I was about to enter the market and shove my way through the busy townsfolk, a medium-sized crowd forming a circle around a broken wheelbarrow and a battered old man.
He had a blue-swelling eye and fresh bloody wounds across his face-, wounds that definitely did not come from a fall. He laid in a pile of ingredients, squashed by his weight, but also by what seemed like had been past footsteps. The crowd, in great pity, helped the poor man up and sorted what was left of his possession. What great communal spirit they had here. Much different than a certain D'Anelé household.
For a second, I thought that I should ignore it, but the curiosity got the better of me—and I wasn't really the type that could resist my urges.
I ended up squeezing through a group of people anyways, even though they were not overzealous housewives buttering up the merchants.
"What happened here," I asked the nearest person; it was a man with more beard than face and a thick body, emphasized by his form-fitting clothes.
The man answered me, "Chase and his people were at it again," there was a faint tremor in his voice.
"What did they do," I asked a more detailed question.
"That poor fellow," he sighed, "you wouldn't believe it. Just a moment ago, he went on with his merchant life, delivering goods to the people with his youngest daughter, and the next moment he lay in his goods, all destroyed and his daughter missing," the man said.
A woman joined the conversation, "I knew him personally. That fool-, his name's Albert from Westwood. Always a prankster, but never did anybody harm. Why anyone would do that is beyond me."
The two people then began to talk between themselves.
Most they said was about the disgraced knight Chase, and his small group of friends. They arrived only a few weeks ago. Already, when they waltzed in, everyone could tell they were up to no good. Chase especially, molested the owner, stole some silver, thrashed the markets, small time gigs at first—actually kind of entertaining in the medival minds. However, one day he assaulted the wrong woman and she retaliated with a fierce block to the head, followed with a well placed spit. Of course, a prideful man like him could never let it go. He learned no humility, only humiliation. Anger issues-, might be, but he could've also just been possessed by a wrathful spirit—that seemed to be the overwhelming consensus. And in the same night, he did to her what no man should ever do. Probably. No one really knew. Still, since then, the woman had never left her abode. And Chase, since then, only got worse, more brazen.
The two people exchanged what they knew, evaluating it with admonishing expressions, and they had already forgotten the person that started the conversation.
"I can tell you what happened," a meek girl from the sides said to me. She was a small kid (her head only reaching to my lower chest), age in the single digits, with a messy ponytail and clothes that were too big for her. I hadn't even noticed that she approached me until she spoke.
"Oh, you can?"
She nodded once while avoiding eye contact, "I saw it. That big man he came with his followers and began chatting with uncle and his daughter," she pointed towards the injured Albert, "but the uncle didn't want anything to do with him and they began to yell. His daughter stepped in, trying to calm them down. That is when the big man packed her by the belly and took her away. Uncle wanted to fight back, but he was beaten by the big mans followers."
"How do you know?" I asked her, "and what is a girl like you doing alone on the streets anyways," I squatted down and stared at her, "where are your parents?"
She turned her head away from me, "I've been following him. The big man."
"Why," I asked.
"My brother told me, because there is no one who sees it, these bad people can do whatever they want. So if I watch them, they can't do anything mean, I thought. It didn't work, though," she began to pout. "Even if I say I saw it, no one believes me! And his friends just keep denying everything, saying that they saw differently. And since the stories don't align, the only thing a victim can do is challenge them to a Judgement Table."
I gave her a faint smile, "you are a smart girl, aren't you?"
"No," she told me and seemed even more disheartened, "if I was so smart, people wouldn't have to get hurt anymore."
"Well, sometimes, being smart just isn't enough," I said, and ruffled her hair.
The girl slowly raised her head, and for the first time since the conversation began, I saw her eyes—two green beads, glistening like big emeralds and tranquil as an uninhabited jungle. She gave me a smile, but the edges of her mouth didn't move up. Her lips turned thinner as they stretched to the sides, and afterwards, she silently walked away.
I glanced at the old man one more time, and I saw an inexplicable flicker in his eyes. It was a flicker of a man who had a plan. A woman helped him on his feet, and he rubbed his face once, the flicker then left, hiding behind his irises. No one except for me seemed to have realized it.
Well, it had nothing to do with me.
I returned to the inn and was greeted by the bustling crowd again. The people were merrily drinking as if nothing had happened in the morning. No, maybe those were already different people than a few hours ago. Judging by the traffic in this town, I didn't doubt that.
After looking around for a free seat, I saw a lone Raya already at a table- Ah, but saying that she was alone would not be quite right, as she was in the middle of being courted by a drunken man leaning towards her. The man had a reddish face and in his left hand was a glass of wine that spewed onto the table everytime he staggered from side to side. While he had a silly grin, Rayas face was anything than happy. She squinted her eyes and stared at him with unaltered disgust, while repeatedly clicking her tongue. Her hand was trembling and I felt that given one more push, she would have slapped him to death.
I ran towards her, gracefully avoiding the dancing women and groggy men. The moment I arrived, I immediately grabbed her hands with my own. She flinched and turned her head, and when she saw who it was, her face turned one shade darker.
"Raya my dear, I was searching for you! Why did you leave without me," I said.
"Huh, who are you," the drunken man asked me, but not before taming his uncontrollable hiccups.
"Me, I am her big sister," I told him 'honestly', "so as you can see she already has company."
The man told me, "I don't see how adding another woman would be a problem?" He crooked his head while he did so and added an innocent smile.
"Yes, fair point," I then leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "but you see, the last few man she married all ended up as the soil for her plants. I am telling your this for your own good, you don't want to touch her."
The man gulped once and he seemed to have sobered up a bit, as he stopped staggering. "I am still willing to give it a try," he then insisted.
"What, for real," I blinked my eyes and my amicable smile froze. Meanwhile, Raya was looked at me irritatingly smug. "Alright, boy, why don't you scram? The woman's already married, come back in a few months when he's dead. Until then, go to your nearby henhouse," I yelled at him and kicked him away.
"Damn it," he cursed and jumped away, he then shouted towards the crowd, "boys, she's a bust, already married they say!"
All of a sudden the nearby men all turned livid. They turned around—some sighed, while others threw their cutlery onto the ground.
I was shocked silent. Only after a few seconds did I ask her, "is it fun to parade yourself for those beasts?"
"I didn't do anything." She humphed. "They came for me. So much to you saying I am not beautiful." She glanced at me and I saw her smile that was slowly creeping up.
"You are still holding a grudge on that? They all simply want you for your body, while I possess the face. Let us make that clear."
"What," she slammed her hands on the table and stood up, "clearly even my face is better. Do you not see all these gentlemen lining up for me?"
"Your face is a trick, with your gentle eyes and soft smile. But the moment you open your mouth, everyone runs away," I said to her, "your face is a scam I tell you! Don't you feel bad?"
"You," she pinched my cheeks, "you dare repeat that again? I will turn you into baked bread!"
"I'd like to see you try," I pulled her hair, "don't forget who's your master! If you wish to please these men, why don't I send you to them naked?"
"Excuse me ladies, the soup is ready," the waitress suddenly said. She had been standing next to us the whole time, in her hands two wooden bowls.
"Oh, we didn't order," I said.
"No, but your company did," she replied.
"Really," I looked at Raya who reacted by tossing her head, "I take it back you are the most beautiful woman," I said and kissed her forehead.
"Geez, I only got one for myself," she pushed me away and faced the waitress, "Also, I hope you followed my instructions or else we have a problem. Do you understand?"
I took a seat and ate the soup, it was as delicious as always. "Did you make some unreasonable request again? You are so hostile," I mumbled to her.
In the end we ate peacefully and afterwards went to our respective rooms for sleep. I folded myself with Agnes and with the thin blanket shielded ourselves from the cold.
The next morning, I was awoken by the church bells—indicating the start of a Judgement Table.
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