CH 18.1

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of rape

“Hey, what’s going on inside the Golden Forest? Did another priest try to challenge the galtir again?”

Telkos asked as he looked around.

He was a merchant from Heda Isle who travelled between the East and the West while trading medicinal herbs, dry goods, and dyes, and he was a friendly man with a silver tongue who was always in the know.

He had just returned from the West and had entered the ‘House of Believers’ on the outskirts of the Golden Forest to buy new ngak tablets —of course, the priest never said that they were ‘selling’ the tablets even though each tablet had its own respective price tag.

Telkos was a rather zealous believer, and he entertained lofty dreams of being able to collect every type of ngak tablet one day.

He possessed many ngak tablets already, and he used them for his convenience often, such as when he wanted to easily start a fire, when he wanted to create a gust of wind because he was hot, or when he wanted to pick fruits from a tree that were too high up for a ladder to reach or carry heavy objects. He even sometimes used them to perform acrobatic acts before wealthy merchants or royalty in other regions to re-sell them for a significant profit.

The type of ngak tablet that he especially liked to buy out nearly the Golden Forest’s entire stock of was the relatively new ‘fire ngak tablets.’ Nothing was more popular or sold at a higher price than the fire ngak tablets. After all no slave could ever run away, even if no one was watching, if they were branded on their chest immediately after they were bought with a fire ngak that manifested after three days.

On rare occasion, some slaves ran away to the Whitesalt Mountains, where ngak didn’t work, but that was only possible if the slave could make it there within three days —it was outright impossible for a slave to run away if they were too far away from the mountains. Ngak tablets were Telkos’ most profitable products.

The damned tablets were created by flattening clay into thin sheets, etching strange letters on it with a reed, covering it with water that had a little bit of priests’ blood mixed into it, and letting it dry, however, so they shattered readily at the slightest impact, and the ngak didn’t manifest if the letters were worn away. This was why Telkos came running to the Golden Forest to receive more tablets at every opportunity.

Urki, the probationary priest who was handing out the tablets, glared at Telkos and sternly said,

“How dare a lowly and flippant merchant like you so fearlessly gossip about someone so high and noble? Just be quiet and hand over three shekels in offerings now that you have your tablets.

“Ah, yes, yes.”

Telkos rummaged through his money pouch and pulled out three flat pieces of silver. Each piece of silver had been preemptively divided into a shekel each to make it easier to trade.

He remembered how chaotic things had been in the years after the current galtir had murdered the previous galtir and before the current galtir had completely seized all the power in the Golden Forest. According to his keen ‘sixth sense antennae,’ however, the mood in the Golden Forest felt similarly uneasy, just like it had back then. Urki weighed the silver that Telkos had offered on a scale as he grumbled,

“Besides, who’d be insane enough to challenge him? No one’s heard a single peep from either the Fundamentalists or the Realists ever since the galtir brought in that mute slave as his new guard.”

“Aha. You’re referring to the one they call the Galla of Ereshkigal, yes?”

Telkos nodded to himself. He had already heard the rumors about the infamous mute slave.

A lot of people had challenged Gishzida immediately after he had become the galtir.

Many traditional Fundamentalists, and the younger priests in particular, supported Gishzida because he was intelligent and immensely skilled at handling ngak. But the Realists had been in power for the last forty years under Kiros’ reign, and their forces were staggering. The opposing faction had rebelled against Gishzida by challenging him frequently.

Perhaps because Gishzida had left too strong an impression when he had killed Kiros so publicly, however, most of the challengers opted to challenge him not in broad daylight but in secret —that is, they usually tried to assassinate him.

Some of the people who had tried to assassinate Gishzida had been his allies who had been responsible for guarding him as he slept, and other had been nugigs with whom he had shared a bed. Not much had changed even after Gishzida had started hiring warriors from the West to guard him instead of the priests. After all, while the Western warriors did not act out of their desire for power or for their convictions, their loyalties could still be bought with money. The new galtir was wise and level-headed, but even he could not escape the anxiety that all galtirs were destined to bear.

Now, however, most of the forces challenging the galtir were being stopped by the mute slave from the West that the galtir was employing as his guard warrior. The slave was called the ‘Galla of Ereshkigal,’ a reference to the ‘spirits that served the Queen of the Underworld,’ and he tailed the galtir secretly from the shadows and guarded his master at night by foregoing sleep to climb up to the ceiling of the high priest’s bedchambers to stand watch.

Furthermore, the mute slave was a skilled assassin, and he also could not be seduced by money. He was so loyal, in fact, that he did not even associate with anyone other than his master and his master’s young pageboy.

No one knew anything about the mute slave except for the little tidbits that could be gained when the galtir said anything about him on rare occasions or when the galtir’s young pageboy grumbled to himself while bringing the mute slave’s meals to the galtir’s bedchambers.

The pageboy supposedly lived in the same room as the mute slave, but even he didn’t know the slave’s name or where he was from. There were many theories about the mute slave in the rumors, such as: that he was violent and aggressive and could handle any weapon; that he was dark-skinned even though he always covered his head and face with a black cloth; that he was as short as a dwarf and had sharp eyes; that he must surely be evil and cruel, especially considering all the wounds he left on the corpses of his victims; and that he must’ve become a vagrant after being cursed by the god of his homeland, since he did not appear to worship any god in particular.

Urki sighed and said,

“But I suppose the galtir has been able to sleep comfortably at night these days. It’s been peaceful in the Golden Forest because the temple has been quiet, since there are no challengers, and Armanu has blessed us with a bountiful harvest these last few years.”

“Wait, then what’s the problem?”

“The problem, has to do with the Northland and with divine stones. Those dirty beasts are being major thorn in our sides,”

interjected a priest named Grum. Grum continued cursing,

“Some idiot who deigns himself the king of the Northlands has been hunting down all the divine stone robbers and torturing them. Our entire supply’s been completely cut off, and it’s been driving us absolutely insane. The Southlands have cut off the food supply to the Northlands in return, but now they’re sporadically coming down to plunder our cities. Things are crazy in Ninurgal City and the Ghana Plains right now. You didn’t know?”

“Oh, of course I’ve heard about that. Who do you think I am?! I’m Telkos of Heda Isle, the greatest know-it-all in the land. Armanu may not have blessed my predecessors with overflowing wealth, but she has blessed my ears to always be open to every rumor from every corner of the earth. Some dimwitted fool has appeared out of the Northlands and calls himself their king, and he’s been crossing the border at the slightest provocation and causing mayhem in his wake, just as you say.”

“What king? —they’re just a bunch of beastmen. He’s just some bastard who’s managed to round up all the small fry around him because he just so happens to be good at waving around his sword. He’s nothing before a ngak attack from a Celestial.”

“Please protect Ninurgal City and the Ghana Plains, belonging to Ninhursag, and the Golden Forest, belonging to Armanu, o Inanna of war. I pray that peace will return to the Ghana Plains soon, and that the trade routes between the Northlands and the Southlands will be opened once more!”

Telkos was practically steaming from the nostrils as he offered a quick prayer and nodded to himself. Then, he continued,

“Things are utter chaos in the Ghana Plains right now. But I managed to visit Ninurgal City on my way back from the West even still, you know? The beer over there is incredible. They even say that any merchant who doesn’t try some of Ninurgal’s barley beer while they’re in the area has committed a crime against himself.”

“Aha.”

Urki and Grum nodded along as they listened to what Telkos had to say. Most of the probationary priests who worked at the House of Believers knew that Telkos was the best source of information for any gossip amongst the merchants. The merchant was excited to have an active audience and began spinning long tales of his experiences.

“But the whole city’s practically been turned upside down these past few years. None of the breweries have any good beer anymore, and I guess the people have grown colder too, seeing as how no one offers a loaf of bread or even a single date palm to a wandering traveler or offers him a bed to spend the night on even if he’s been sitting in the corner of the streets all day long, you know? And the streets are always buzzing with the most terrible rumors. It’s like it’s the end of the world or something.”

Just then, another priest walked up behind Telkos and began rummaging through the ngak tablets as he chimed in,

“Oh, then have you heard anything about the Northlands while you were in Ninurgal City?”

“Like I said —my ears are open to every rumor in the world. What are you curious about?”

“Two high-ranking priests from the Golden Forest and Quirios, the prince of Minotos, were sent to the Northlands as special envoys not too long ago, but we never heard back from them. King Fidios has been greatly concerned for his younger brother. Ninurgal City is the gateway to the Northlands, so I was hoping you might’ve heard something.”

Telkos huddled into himself and snickered before he looked around to make sure that no one else was listening and quietly whispered back,

“Actually, the delegation came back from the Northlands a while ago, and they’ve been hiding in Ninurgal City. The rumors haven’t reached the other cities yet because they’ve been hushing things up so fervently, but it’s pretty much an open secret with anyone in Ninurgal City who’s in the know.”

“Oho? And why are the envoys hiding in Ninurgal City instead returning home to their respective cities?”

The newcomer priest was much more hospitable than Urki or Grum, and his tone was gentle and affable. Telkos brushed his hand carefully over his new clay tablets as he replied,

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you. They said they’d have my head if I told anyone.”

“If they take your head, then I’ll simply take theirs in return, so won’t you please tell me anyway?”

Telkos stared openly at the back of the young priest’s head as he wondered what kind of bullshit that was supposed to be. The young priest, who had been inspecting the clay tablets, turned around and beamed.

Telkos’ eyes widened. Looking back at him was the most beautiful priest he’d ever seen in his life —to be completely honest, the priest was so beautiful that he was nearly stunned silent.

“Are you an en-ishib, by any chance?”

Telkos asked politely after reading the room. The young priest clearly wasn’t one of the probationary priests or lower-ranking priests who normally worked at the House of Believers, considering the length of the skirt and sleeves of his white habit, the golden embroidery on his collar and sleeves, and the numerous jewels decorating his waistband.

“No.”

Telkos grinned as he nodded back.

“Of course. You must be an en-nugig, then. No wonder you’re so beautiful.”

Pft —he heard something laugh. The young priest furrowed his brow and turned around. It was only then that Telkos noticed the pageboy with a buzzcut standing behind the young priest, and the pageboy’s shoulders were heaving as he laughed.

“This isn’t something that I wanted to spell out with my own mouth, Renier, but he’s just trying to say that I’m attractive.”

A chill ran down Telkos’ spine. Now that he thought about it, why were Urki, the probationary priest, and Grum, the low-ranking priest, who had been standing so proud and tall just moments ago prostrating themselves on the floor with the blood drained from their faces?

Kneel, hurry up and keel, you dim-witted fool!

The two lesser priests barked orders at Telkos soundlessly when their eyes met. The young priest chuckled amicably and said,

“I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Gishzida. Though everyone usually calls me the galtir instead. What is your name?”

Ack! Telkos dropped his clay tablets. They shattered when they hit the floor, but Telkos didn’t have the leisure to complain about it at the moment.

He prostrated himself and panicked as he slammed his head into the floor. Instead of telling Telkos that it was all right or that he could stand up, Gishzida continued in his honeyed voice,

“Did I not ask you for your name, good merchant of the Southlands?”

“My, m-m-m-my name is T-Telkos, and I’m the son of Hicortes, a merchant of purple dye back at Heda Isle!”

“I’d like to hear more about this tale of yours that will purportedly cost you your head, Telkos of Heda Isle, son of Hicortes. Will you follow me to the temple?”

“B-b-but they said that they’d really have my head if any rumors begin spreading, Lord Galtir…….”

“It was Fidios, the king of Minotos, and I who dispatched those envoys in the first place. Isn’t it only right that I should get to hear those rumors?”

“Uh, yes!”

“They were special envoys, and yet they failed to return immediately to the city. That alone is enough to warrant some kind of punishment. If they take your head, then I shall cut off Quirios’ and the two priests’ heads in return and offer them before your grave. That would at least make things fair, no?”

Telkos had never realized prior to this encounter that such and kind and gentle voice could sound so chilling and bloodthirsty. It was no wonder why the priests of the Golden Forest were so terrified of their young and affable galtir. But the one and only thing that Telkos couldn’t believe…….

“Drench him? A dragon made from water? I don’t really care enough to confirm whether he’s really a man, Renier. Unfair? Surely you’re not holding a grudge against me about what happened back then still, are you? Stop laughing. You’ll be punished if you keep teasing the galtir. Aren’t you afraid of my wind blades? Reni…I told you to stop laughing, Reni…Renier?”

…Was how unbelievably soft and gentle the galtir was to the small pageboy who was chattering beside him.

***

It was impossible for the Northlands to have a self-sufficient supply of necessities, such as food and clothing, because its soil was barren and its climate was harsh. Its plains stretched as far as the eye could see, but it was difficult to grow crops or raise livestock, like sheep or cows, there because the winters were too long.

The only resources that were plentiful in the Northlands were wood and rock salt, but people could not live off of salt alone, and although the Northlanders were skilled at domesticating or hunting animals, befitting of the beastmen they were, it was not enough to get them through the long winters. And to make matters worse, the Northlanders’ population was also growing.

They Northlanders detested interacting with outsiders. Still, they were severely lacking in food, so they visited the cities near the Southlands’ borders to trade wood, rock salt, and fur. This arrangement hadn’t posed much of a problem until recently.

The problems had only begun after divine stone robbers had started flocking to the Whitesalt Mountains. The robbers continued to dig up the sacred graves of the Northlanders’ ancestors —the caves in the Whitesalt Mountains— in order to obtain more divine stones.

The robbers were blinded by money and did not stop no matter how many times the Northlanders had warned them. More and more blood was spilled between the grave robbers and the Northlanders as time passed.

Kiros, the previous galtir, had been vexed by the uncertainty of the Golden Forest’s supply of divine stones and had begun bribing some of the Northland tribes with some degree of success. And so, the Golden Forest had been able to obtain a steady supply divine stones from the tribes who had agreed to cooperate with them.

But Gishzida, a Fundamentalist, was more aggressive in his approach. He had negotiated in secret with the Blackrock Mountain Tribe, which was on friendly terms with the Golden Forest, and plotted to completely annihilate the Salt Mountain Tribe. In return, Gishzida had agreed to give the Blackrock Mountain Tribe and the four other tribes who had also agreed to collaborate the Kusig Plains, the vast granary owned by the Golden Forest, once the dust was settled.

After all, the priests would have no need for the Kusig Plains as long as they managed to annihilate the Salt Mountain Tribe. Their earthly possessions would mean nothing to them once they ascended to heaven by retrieving the glory of light and burning Armanu to reclaim their eternal life.

The Blackrock Mountain Tribe had communicated secretly with Gishzida several more times and planned to launch a large-scale attack on Salt Mountain after eliminating the chief of the Salt Mountain Tribe and his household, which were the heart of the Salt Mountain Tribe.

Unfortunately, however, all their efforts had been in vain. The chief’s son had survived the massacre and succeeded his late father’s title, and then he had annihilated the Blackrock Mountain Tribe and unified the remaining ten other tribes.

The Northlands, and the Salt Mountain Tribe in particular, had regarded the Golden Forest as its sworn enemy ever since. Naturally, the Northlanders had begun taking a firmer stance about the divine stone caves too. The number of robbers trying to enter the Whitesalt Mountains had decreased significantly after rumors about how the young king of the Northlands was hunting them down like he was combing for lice to punish them had spread to the Southlands, the West, and the East.

It was problematic for the Golden Forest that their supply of divine stones had diminished. The divine stones were the sources of the priests’ powers, and the stones were also the undeniable proof that they were, in fact, Celestials.

In response, Gishzida had worked with the forces in the Southlands that bordered the Northlands to execute an economic blockade. The Northlanders had attempted to reopen trade multiple times before they started climbing down the Whitesalt Mountains to pillage. Ninurgal City, which owned the Ghana Plains, a large granary, had suffered greatly from the Northlanders’ pillaging in particular.

The Golden Forest had also started paying astronomically more for any divine stones it could procure. Despite everything, however, both sides were adamantly refusing to budge.

“I don’t know, Lord Galtir… The Northlanders seem to have no ulterior motives and are just taking everything they can get their hands on while leaving nothing behind —not even a single basket of barley, a single bottle of oil, or even a single raisin. They have so little food that they apparently can’t even take prisoners to use them as slaves. They kill everyone who resists, and if you don’t resist, they’ll even take the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet too. They’re taking literally everything —even things like moth-eaten kanaukeses and shawls, thread, needles, old blankets, and chipped plates. The people of Ninurgal have even started calling the Northlanders beggars instead of beasts as of late. Anyway, the bastards come down from their mountains at the slightest provocation and take everything in their path, so the morale near the border has been terrible.”

“I see. But I already knew that things were chaotic at the border, Telkos of Heda Isle.”

The newly appointed galtir spoke as amicably as if he was speaking to a dear friend and his smile was so kind that it could melt anyone who saw it. But Telkos felt like chills were crawling down his back every time the galtir spoke.

Before, I could never understand why they called him the ‘coldhearted galtir’ when he speaks so gently, but I understand now that I’ve exchanged a few words with him. The aura that the young galtir exuded was smoother, cleaner, and more terrifying than anyone else that Telkos had ever met in his life. The galtir continued,

“I still don’t know why the envoys I sent are hiding in Ninurgal City without sending back a single word. It’d be nice to have a reason to spare those priests’ lives. …….Anyway, that’s starting to give me a headache. Why is that bird being no noisy when I’m meeting with an important guest? I can’t have a nice conversation like this.”

The galtir clicked his tongue and muttered something before snapping his fingers. The bird outside the window cried out as soon as he finished muttering, and it fell to the ground with its wings bent the wrong way.

“Peace and quiet at last. So, why is Quirios hiding in Ninurgal City?”

The galtir was still smiling as gently as ever as he turned back to Telkos. Telkos stiffened up in his seat and promptly answered,

“It’s because the prince has become a eunuch, Galtir.”

***

Quirios, the prince of Minotos, was the leader of the delegation, and he was accompanied by two high-ranking priests from the Golden Forest as his advisors. The delegation had only been dispatched because Kantos, the king of Ninurgal, had begged for it, having grown sick and tired of the Northlanders’ constant pillaging, and the delegation had been granted the authority to give the Northlands an ultimatum if things didn’t go well.

Quirios knew that the Northlands were on the brink of starvation. So, he had believed that the king of the Northlands would come running to greet him on bare feet, receive him warmly, tuck his tail in between his legs, and agree to cooperate.

Contrary to his expectations, however, the king of the Northlands had been stiff and unfriendly instead. Not only were his words and actions uncivilized, lowly, and barbaric —as befitting of a beastman—, but he was also so brazenly obstinate that he refused to back down even in the slightest with regards to the divine stones.

“To dig up our ancestors’ graves is to disturb their rest. Those who disturb our ancestors’ rest shall never be forgiven, and they shall be cursed for generations to come.”

The king of the Northlands’ tone had been melancholy and curt, he had prepared the delegation food that was only considered fit for pigs in Minotos and called it a feast, and he hadn’t even sent the delegation any women to attend to them at night, which was nothing to say of the lack of dancers furnished to delight the delegation’s eyes and ears.

Quirios had been offended. Surely, this was a great insult to the delegation. And an insult to the delegation was not only an insult to Minotos but also an insult to the Golden Forest and the Southlands as a whole.

Quirios had planned to give the ultimatum and return to the Southlands the very next day. He declined the feast that the king had provided and grinded his teeth in fury, and ultimately, he decided to vent his frustrations by harassing the lady-in-waiting who had come to inspect his bedchambers.

Perhaps his anger would have been appeased had the lady-in-waiting had been submissive and begged him to stop like the women in the Southlands would have, but the Northlander woman was different. Instead, she had openly resisted the prince’s molestation.

Quirios had already been offended to begin with, and this had made him furious. How dare this lowly wench ignore me?! And so, he decided to put the Northlander wench in her place even if he had to resort to brute force to do so.

In order to force himself on the unwilling woman, he not only choked her, slapped her across the face, and gagged her but also tied her up. After all, it was certain that Minitos stood to be humiliated by the Northland’s scorn and insults if he simply let things be.

Salt City had been upturned that night. The young king of the Northlands had personally dragged the delegation out onto the fields of ice outside in the middle of the night to hold an informal trial.

“I’m the prince of Minotos. How dare you half-human beasts put royalty and Celestials on trial?! Unhand me, you insolent beasts! Don’t you know that your insults against us were at least a thousand times worse? Do you think you’ll get off scot-free after treating us so poorly? The Southlands and the Golden Forest will avenge me with blood if you so much as lay a finger on me! I am the younger brother of Fidios, the king of Minotos, the greatest city of the Southlands. I…! I’m…!”

“So, Prince Quirios of Minotos, I am asking you for the fifth time if you’ve forced yourself on that woman.”

The king of the Northlands had simply repeated his question as Quirios threw a tantrum. When Quirios failed to answer properly, he tied Quirios up and forced the prince to kneel over the ice and began asking other witnesses to testify. Not only were there many witnesses, but there hadn’t even been any need to force Quirios to confess in the first place because the lady-in-waiting had tried to resist him so desperately that she had broken her arm.

Quirios had not denied the charges against him, nor had he ever intended to. And eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth —he had merely repaid an insult for an insult. It would spell war if the Northlands decided to harm the national delegation and the younger brother of a Southlander king simply because Quirios had raped a single lowly wench.

“You came to the Northlands and harmed a Northlander woman, and so you shall be punished in accordance with the Northlands’ laws. Naturally, as you are a prince of a city, I will not insult you by leaving your punishment in humbler hands. Still, the woman you harmed has the right to see you be punished, so know that she has the right to spit at you, throw stones at you, and slap your face.”

“Y-you crazy bastard. Y-you were the one who insulted me first, it, it was youuuuu!”

“Take off his kanaukes, spread his limbs, and tie him down.”

That was all the king of the Northlands had said before swinging his axe. Quirios hadn’t even had the chance to scream and had simply passed out while frothing at the mouth, and the two high-ranking priests, who had been doing their best to stop the king, had both fainted on the spot.

All talks had stopped immediately thereafter. The delegation had brought Quirios down the Whitesalt Mountains on a stretcher because he could no longer ride a horse and had made their way to Ninurgal City. Then, it had taken a while before Quirios’ wound had healed, and it had taken even longer still before he had gotten over the shock and pulled himself together mentally.

But they had not been able to send any news to Minotos City. This was because Quirios had gone half-insane and had cried, “If rumors about this spread to Minotos or the Golden Forest, then I’ll kill all the bastards who spread the rumors and kill myself afterward,” day in and day out.

“Goodness. He must’ve suffered a lot. May Armanu and Inanna grant Quirios peace.”

The galtir did not seem sympathetic in the slightest as he clicked his tongue.

***