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Book 2, Ch. 34 - Two Sides
🕑 Added 2019-04-03 02:00:30 +0000 UTC The first half of the evening had been restrained, despite the interruption's best efforts. After a loud bang from the castle had brought a halt to all proceedings, a ripple of fear had gone through the isolated groups of commoners. How could it not, right after a loud bang had rocked the very foundations of the castle and with it, the foundation of the very power they had subscribed to?
Bit by bit the thunder from across the river had turned into a rumble of the crowd. Already nervous, all out of their element, the rumble of the commoners had soon developed into hysteria, as shouts took hold and pervaded through the air.
When the entire plaza, and with it all of Sillu island, threatened to sink into utter chaos, a surprising visitor appeared, to save the confused masses from themselves. Throughout the day he had sat across the yard and directed his blank stare into the pyre, that strange foreigner with the foppish clothing. Just as he seemed like a statue of stone, ineffectual and disinterested when things were calm, he transformed into a whirlwind of activity as soon as a threat had arrived. With a voice of great power and authority, the foreigner had begun his persuasion, in a Yakua so clean that Tawo had been shocked.
Calm and authoritative, he had explained the true nature of the explosions, simple fireworks from the Chutwa Empire, bought specially to celebrate the harvest and the arrival of the new king. Although at first he had only been an authority figure of the kind like many others, Soon, the man who had introduced himself as Master Bombasticus, had become a part of the crowd. Once he had introduced himself as the man who created the fertilizer all the villages had gained from throughout the year, he had become the most popular man within the city. Not only were his services valued by the peasants, the fact that he himself was nothing more than a craftsman endeared him further to the crowd.
Once Bombasticus had won them over, he had broken up the first, unsuccessful part of the festival. With great confidence and even greater bravado, he had led all of them into the new town hall of Sillu island. In here was where the real festival had started.
Drink and food, stacked high as a mountain. Even though many of the people here were farmers, it would be more than many of them had ever seen, even more so when it came to variety. Not only were they presented with the ubiquitous rice, but also with all manner of bread, cake and noodles... and that was only the most basic of foods. Near the center of the room, a broth of vegetable and animal bones bubbled and boiled in massive vats. Even earlier, several massive logs had been taken from the pyre outside and placed in between those very vats. All of it only to present the centerpiece, an entire cow that had been speared and suspended over the flames of the pyre. Roasted at a spit, the animal was basked with the mouth-watering broth around it from time to time, to create a divine smell.
At the tail-end of the hall, one could find the singers and dancers which would almost never make their way to the backwards villages the guests had come from. To their side, a troop of traveling folk prepared their masks and feathery costumes, to present their play which would no doubt be as raunchy as it was political. Even more intoxicated by the atmosphere than by the free-flowing wine, the commoners danced and stumbled throughout the halls, to drink, eat, laugh and cry together. Although there was still a distinct separation between the Yaku and the foreigners from Arcavia, one which split the image down the middle, at least within these groups, one could find unfathomable harmony within the chaos.
Whenever Tawo had been allowed to partake in a proper banquet of the nobility, he had always been more than a little bit excited. Ever since his childhood, he had wished for nothing more than to be part of this veritable Eden. However, compared to the harmony and unity of the scene before him, the old noble banquets were nothing. Boastful and aggressive, the short stints of fun were always interrupted by challenges, fights, sometimes even wars. No matter how happy they seemed together, two lords could declare mutual war in the blink of an eye. Without armies of warriors behind them to inflate their egos, the commoners were still careful even in exuberance, still showed respect for one another in revelry. What was presented in front of Tawo was truly a picture he could only describe in one possible way.
“Like a heavenly paradise,” he muttered. A jerky movement of the shoulder from the man who sat before the painting brought Tawo back to his senses and made him understand his faux-pas. Careful and proper, the lanky man with the muddy black hair put down his charcoal pencil, before he turned on his low stool and looked at the warrior with a smile. Only now did Tawo realize that he had admired the work of a foreigner, rather than that of a Yaku.
“Oh, excuse me. I didn't want to intrude.” Ready to retreat and return to the festival before him, Tawo bowed to leave. However, the foreigner's clear Yakua held him back as much as did his words.
“Rather than a heavenly paradise, I would call it a new dawn, light and dark combined in brilliance. Should a paradise not be more solemn? No one should wake from paradise with a headache I believe,” the lanky man quipped with a smirk.
Stunned, then elated, Tawo offered a frank laugh, and with it blew away all of his previous thoughts of leaving.
“Well, it seems like the artist should know best. Incredible how very lifelike the piece is, even when it is nothing but a sketch.”
“All I do is paint what I see. I don't believe I am much of a painter myself. It is nature itself which should be called the artist.”
Humble and direct, with no falsehood hidden in his eyes, that was how Tawo saw the painter before him. There was no way he could dislike such a frank character of such skill.
“A philosophy right after the heart of the priests. With this attitude, master would be popular with the Yaku people. Maybe the lords would not be too happy with it however.”
Rather than be intimidated by the prospect of an insult to the lords, the painter raised his eyebrows in interest.
“That is a surprise. Would they not enjoy a picture of good quality? How strange.”
With a smile colored dark, Tawo looked out of the window, towards the north, towards his home of Huaylas.
“I have been fortunate enough to see some great works of art appreciated by the great lords of Medala. Although the artists are proficient as well, they make no attempt to capture life, not like you have in your image. No, instead, any image is hidden behind secret meaning and exclusive symbols. Nothing is as it appears, not in Medalan art. After all, art is not a pleasure to be enjoyed, but a form of authority over the commoners below. Only the lords and artists shall be allowed to ever understand and appreciate it. While your work speaks of great craftsmanship, it contains two inherent flaws which would make it unacceptable for most lords. First, it is too easy to read. No one in power would want the simple mortals to participate in their games. Second, you have shown the lives of the common people, in any context beyond submission and obedience. How can these lords claim that they own the world if they see these simple people happy and elated like they are today?”
Infected by the painting's energy, the always rational Tawo changed his tune. For once, he embraced his cousin's thoughts and ideas as his own. For once, he was just as unrealistic a dreamer as Sawo. Soon though, the astute painter brought him back to reality. His face all smiles, he stood from his stool and turned to Tawo.
“Oh, it sounds as if you are a well-traveled man, sire! I myself have been fascinated with Medalan life ever since I caught first sight of its beautiful coast. But as a commoner myself, I only get to see the commoner side of things, and even then much of life remains a mystery to an outsider. I would have no greater wish than to hear the tales of a man who has had experienced the noble parts of Medalan life!”
Right away Tawo returned back to his senses, a film of sweat forming on his face to fit the humid atmosphere within the hall. At last he had remembered why he was here in Saniya, what he had come to do. Armed with a cramped smile, he tried his best to hide his true identity.
“Oh no, please do not mistake me. I am nothing but a simple village chief from the countryside. This servant knows nothing of the complex life of the great lords above. In fact, this servant only saw a simple facsimile of a real noble painting, carried by a priest on his way through our village. Even then, the experience was profound and stuck deep within this servant's mind.”
“Oh.” Deflated, the painter's body slumped down as his head lowered. His state of depression would, however, only last mere moments. Once these moments had passed, his eyes shot back up to meet Tawo's.
“In that case, sire, could you not at least introduce me to the men around here? In fact, I have tried all year to make more contact with the local people, to learn more about them, but all of my attempts have achieved no more tha superficial results. I want to meet the real people of Medala, drink with them, laugh and cry with them. Could we not be human together?”
Despite the foreigner's strange choice of words, Tawo wasn't opposed to the idea. After all, for now he still had some time to finalize his plan. In addition, he would have to mingle more anyways. The only reason Tawo had been here in the corner in the first place was to get an overview of the situation within the hall and to, frankly, gain some courage. Once he made any move, in any direction, he would draw attention to himself right away. In turn, the way in which the new powers of Saniya would react to his move would decide not only his fate, but that of his cousin and all those bandits out in the marshes as well.
“Of course,” Tawo said. “But what about the painting? This great work cannot be left unfinished, can it?”
“Ah, that is quite all right,” the painter waved off the concern. “The sketching work is done already and the painting portion will require weeks, if not months, of work to complete. I can always return to it when I feel like it.”
“But what if someone takes the sketch for his own? In that case, would we, and everyone within Saniya, not be deprived of a great treasure? I do not believe we should be this careless with such a masterpiece.”
Again the painter returned a refreshed smile. Unfazed by all the flattery, he stood and dusted off his long trousers.
“I doubt anyone should call it a masterpiece, not in relation to myself. I am not a painter by profession after all. To me, it is more of a fascination, to try and preserve the very image of nature in its purest form, as it presents itself to the world.”
Again the stranger managed to throw Tawo off balance. No matter what he said, to a man who could appreciate art, this was just the sort of man who would produce the greatest works. Of course, Tawo was very much a connoisseur. Even though he should have kept a low profile, the warrior decided to insist on the safety of the image. After all, to a connoisseur like Tawo, the painting itself was at least as important as its creator.
“However, the piece should still be preserved, if this humble servant may insist. It would be a shame if it was lost to the world. At the very least, this mortal would love to see it in its completed state.”
“Ah, that is quite all right.” the stranger tapped his temple with his spindly finger. “All of it is in here. If I lose the sketch, I only have to recreate it.”
His eyes were enlarged in shock as Tawo answered under his breath.
“Great master, if you are not a painter, then what are you?”
“Oh, you need to excuse my manners,” the painter replied as if he didn't have a care in the world. “I was never all too good at these sorts of things. I am indeed not a painter, but a clock maker. My name is Egidius, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Village head Asto. The pleasure is all mine.”
With a smile, the two men from different ends of the ocean shook hands, and marched towards the crowd, together.
Hermit's Notes: I'm pretty late today, and the culprit can be found at the start of the chapter. The first couple paragraphs were originally a chapter all on their own, but I felt like it didn't work too well. I didn't spend enough time before to establish how ronnie has a hard time fitting in anywhere, so it all fell a bit flat...
In the end, I decided to cut the scene and just retell it. I'll mull over it over the coming days and maybe rewrite it for Thursday's or Saturday's chapter, in case I manage to make it work somehow.
