Chapter 120: Chapter 118 – Chances Missed, and Taken

“What an impressive piece of work this is.” Even though they had moved away from the clock maker's painting, it appeared as if Egidius wasn't the only one in the new king's Saniya capable of great feats. What Tawo turned in his hand was a piece of pottery as delicate and beautiful as a seashell. As the stars were his witness, for the first time in his life he held real Chutwa glaze in his hands.

“They say that the product has been imported from Chutwa itself.” to his side, Khuno, the loudmouth village chief from before, sneered.

“Oh, where did you hear that, chief Khuno?”

“The foppish foreigner told us not too long ago. Look at this as well.” Again he raised another product. This time, it was a bottle, one which appeared to be sculpted from pure crystal. With great admiration, Tawo took the object into his hands and turned it, to see the iridescent sparkle of the material in the orange light of the torches spread throughout the hall.

“How did they manage to shape one crystal in such a manner? Has a new master entered Saniya? And is this not an incredible waste of material, to hollow it out like this?” His eyes still focused on the bottle in his hands, Tawo tried his best to unlock its mysteries.

“This is no crystal. It is simple glass.” With a raised finger of his free hand, Egidius stepped up to complete the last part of their little trio. “In its original form, this is technology of Arcavia. When King Corco returned here, he brought many skilled craftsmen with him. Though I don't believe there were any glass makers who held the secret of clear glass. Maybe the king managed to purchase the technology from Whiteport instead.”

More focused on his own theories than the people around him, Egidius began to mumble and was only brought back to reality by a light cough from Tawo. “Either way, I am quite sure that this glass has been crafted here, in Saniya.”

After they had bonded over that painting of his, Egidius and Tawo had stuck together. While the warrior would never mind the company of a great artist, the clock maker had wanted to meet more of Saniya's locals. For either purpose, the other's company would be beneficial. Although many of the country folk had been cautious around the fair-skinned foreigner at first, a bit of Tawo's persuasion, together with Egidius' natural talents, had been enough to endear him to the locals.

“Although this chief is very glad for the explanation from master Egidius, none of this matters!” loudmouth Khuno brought himself into the conversation once again. “Yes, the crystal bottle is pretty too, but just smell the contents inside!”

In response to the loudmouth's request, Tawo looked at the bottle again. Only now did he see that it was filled with a liquid as clear as the glass around it. Intrigued by this discovery, Tawo looked up to the village chief, only to find the younger man look at him with eyes that were as expectant as those of Egidius were curious. Encouraged, he released the clear stopper from the bottle and took a whiff. At first he reeled back from the strong smell, but soon the sting in his nose was replaced by a pleasant scent, one he couldn't quite place.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I'm surprised that chief Asto wouldn't recognize the smell. It's lavender, the smell of summer.”

Exposed again!

Although Tawo had gone through the summer in the Chawir marshes this year, he had been stationed in a camp, many miles away from Saniya. Thus, he had never seen, or smelled, the full bloom of the lavender the town was so famous for. In frantic search for an excuse, his eyes spun around, to find something, anything, to distract the men before him from the topic and his own inadequacies.

“So it is a form of rose water,” the painter spoke out of turn. At least Egidius had the basic decency to help out his friend. “Nothing special then.”

“Nothing special?” Khuno turned away from Tawo, just in time to miss the warrior exhale in relief. Too busy with the foreigner's comment, he failed to notice anything unusual about his fellow chief. “The old Vorao over there tried the smell before he tried the food, the weirdo. You know he still smells like he rolled in the stuff, even now? How long has that been? Hours, got wine spilled all over his robes no less! No scented water lasts that long!”

“Again, it is not unusual in Arcavia,” Egidius explained with a second raised finger.

On the other hand, Tawo was lost in thought. Astonished by the overall levels of skill he had witnessed today, the town he had left a mere two seasons prior was unrecognizable. Meanwhile, he almost failed to notice the developing conflict between the two parties before him.

“What does that mean? Everything's better over in Arcavia, is it?” Khuno bit at the innocent Egidius.

Although Tawo respected the young chief for his passion, his attitude and temper were problems. Even though they had known each other for less than a day, Khuno had presented himself as irritable throughout, even more so whenever someone styled themselves as superior. At the same time, Egidius was terrible with people. Or rather, he himself was a nice enough fellow, but time and again he failed to notice the angry responses some of his answers garnered. Stuck between the two like a wet paper between spark and powder, Tawo had to mediate once more.

“Ahah, surely there are many things the great Yaku people have over the eastern foreigners as well,” he tried, and included a wink towards the painter for good measure. Brought back to his favorite topic, Egidius began to rave.

“Of course there are. The paper production for one. I suspect that this very technology is the reason why there are so many more literate men in Medala than there are in Arcavia. Not to mention, the architectural achievements of Medala are one of a kind. I have only been here for a short time, but I feel as if a lifetime would not be enough to understand the intricacies of their craft. There is also a certain feeling of honor within Medala quite unlike what I have seen anywhere else.”

“That may be true for some, but not everyone knows honor like we do.” Even though things had gone so well moments earlier, Khuno's face had soured further. This time, not even the astute Tawo could understand why the village chief was dissatisfied. At least he didn't have to guess for long.

“Aren't these sort of things sickening to anyone else?” he said as he pointed to the bottle of lavender water still held within Tawo's hand.

“If chief Khuno could please enlighten the unenlightened,” Tawo said with the calmest smile he could muster. Already he could tell that whatever thought Khuno tried to conjure was dangerous. However, Tawo himself relished the chance to expose a radical, a rebel. This was the reason he had come here after all, in spite of how much fun his time so far had been. Only if he could impress the local forces in some way, make some great achievement in service of the new King of the South and distinguish himself in front of all the locals here, did he have any chance to meet with his target.

“You don't believe this sort of gloating is ugly? Here we are, the simple commoners of Chawir, and are presented with all of those treasures from all over the world, and for what?”

With clenched fists, the young farmer held onto the porcelain cup in his hand.

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“Isn't this all only here to taunt us, to mock us? The base mortals are shown all the things they don't have, the things they can never get for themselves! And they're right! Never will we get to enjoy these things. Even if we have the gold to buy them, gold we piled up through generations of sweat, we still won't get to savor any! Don't forget, whenever we try to buy stuff like this, the ones up high only tell us that they're not for us, not for the common people! And if we don't listen, we're criminals, fit to be locked away, fit to be killed!”

In principle, Tawo could spare some sympathy for the farmer before him. After all, the big nobles at the top had no idea about the lives of mortals, but warriors like him and Sawo would come into contact with them far more. Throughout the past few years, this difference between achievement, production and actual benefit within the different castes had always been one of his cousin's greatest concerns.

However, even then Tawo had little respect for Khuno. After all, the 'generations of hard work' were based on the exploitation of other farmers as well. Just like how the lords would exploit and hold down the commoners, so too would the big landowners in the villages exploit and hold down their fellow farmers. In fact, many villages had stricter rules than the distant lords could ever enforce.

Thus, despite his better knowledge, and despite the danger of Khuno's words, Tawo made no attempt to stop his speech. This might, would, could be the chance he had been waiting for. Not only that, he also felt a deep sympathy, a desire to hear spoken within the halls of a lord what no one in Medala's history had ever dared to say. Only someone like Khuno, overconfident, selfish and simple, could ever do so. Thus, Tawo stepped back and let the idiot be the voice of the people.

“They dangle these things in front of our faces, for what? To mock us, that's what. You might think this king is a great ruler, someone who cares for his people, by the way he treats us. But think about it, what did this king do? Give us means to farm more land. Make our wheat grow faster and higher. Doesn't all of that only make our harvest harder too? And what do we get for all the extra work? All the extra effort, and this king takes the biggest share. After all the work was done, our village has almost as little left as we did last year!”

To the side, Egidius was stepped from one foot to the other and looked around, in search for relief. Again, Tawo felt like he should object. After all, only moments ago Khuno had complained that he had no way to spend all his wealth, but now he professed poverty. Not to mention, for a local like the chief there were many ways to undermine the king's tax and be left with more than he deserved. Still, the greedy farmer would have to go on. Only after an eruption could Tawo distinguish himself. Only when Khuno had rushed to the cliff could the warrior push him off.

“So what can we do then?” His smile still retained, Tawo helped the greedy farmer before him. Just one more push and it would be enough. Once the idiot had said his piece, once he had compromised not only his own life, but the lives of his entire village with his call to rebellion, 'village chief Asto' could jump in to smother the uncouth commoner's coup. If everything went well, it would be enough to win the attention of the king, or at least that of his officials.

“So, why don't we just band together?” Khuno continued. “We can work as one and make sure that these... these lords don't-”

“Stop.” Before he himself knew what he had done, a feeling like a beat anvil in his chest made Tawo stop in his tracks. He didn't know why, but this, all of this, felt wrong. Yes, he could wait until a rebellion was incited. Yes, it would serve his purpose well and yes, the idiot farmer would more than deserve the fallout. However, it didn't feel right, not one bit. Over the years, his gut had served him well, so he had treated it just as well in return. Thus, he decided to trust his instincts once more and gain some time to think.

“Whatever you are about to say, don't forget where we are, and what the consequences of your actions could be,” he said.

With a frown, he looked over the festivities all around them; he looked at the stuffy surroundings with the small windows, the simple, brown cloth which covered the tables, the expensive foods, drinks and smells, as well as the pretty instruments played by the prettier musicians in the corner. At the same time, he thought back to everything he had seen in the now-strange Saniya today: Commoners inside the inner city walls and even in schools. A king who would contact the craftsmen of his lands himself, and value them like Tawo had never seen, as well as the strange Egidius. With a start, Tawo put together the puzzle, and he understood.

“You've failed to see the king's intention,” he said with command. “From his actions so far, King Corco intends to let all people work together, in harmony. Be they commoner or otherwise. Just look around you. There are no lavish decorations. Only ordinary tables and chairs. All cloth is simple, in brown, gray and green, the colors of the normal people. This festival is not a boast, or a torture, it is a way forward for the people of Chawir.”

Now he understood the goals of the new king, and how his own goals would be best served. No matter how much of a problem Khuno himself was, King Corco wouldn't want a rebellion only to catch a few troublemakers. Instead, he wanted to bring the people closer to himself, to give their loyalty to him of their own volition. With a deep breath, the lines in Tawo's face disappeared. Rather than let the fire burn and then put it out to play hero, he would step in right now, and stomp out the spark. Not only did he expect to please the king and his minions more in this way, he could also save the innocent of Ayala village from Khuno's greed and Corco's wrath.

“What do you mean?” the dull chief asked.

“Look at it: Glass, Chutwa glaze, alcohol, tea and good food. Even the musical instruments, all are things a man can enjoy in his own home, behind his own walls, hidden from the outside world.”

As soon as he had revealed the king's plot, large eyes of realization stared back at Tawo. Even when he wasn't the brightest, Khuno would understand the implications of his words. This was the commoner's path ahead, a way to oppose the lords, to live the life they had been deprived of for centuries, without breaking any rules. So long as they didn't display any wealth out in the open, they would be safe. Even so, Tawo was sure that this would not be the limit of this idea. No, more than a way to spend money, this was the start of a revolution. Confused, the warrior wondered if the young King Corco was aware of his own actions. However, none of it mattered, for without his knowledge, Tawo had already fulfilled his own plan.

“Exactly. And all of them are so cheap as well. I am sure that the young lords would enjoy the treasures greatly,” a voice interrupted from their side. When Tawo turned, he reeled back in shock. Master Bombasticus, official under the king, had mingled among the commoners all evening, but now he had sneaked up behind them. A large smile plastered all over his face, the official praised the wares of Saniya like a common merchant. However, Tawo still stayed as respectful as he was careful and lowered his head, to make sure he would not be recognized against all odds.

“This servant is deeply grateful to receive master's wisdom.”

“Say,” Bombasticus answered, out of context and still with an unreadable smile on his face. “What is your name, villager? I am quite sure that we have met before.”

“Village chief Iqtana Asto greets Master Bombasticus,” he answered, accompanied by a proper bow that would impress even a king.

“Oh, I remember. We have met before. Asto was one of the first villages we visited.” As if he talked about the weather, Bombasticus replied without any deeper feeling. For Tawo however, the answer was pure torture. For a while there was an unspeakable tension as Tawo's body cramped up, before the king's official spoke up again.

“Now then, village chief Asto, your service for the kingdom of the south have been significant, far more than you might be aware. As a reward, you shall be granted one wish. Tell me, village chief, what is your desire?”

Although he was still confused, although the strange foreigner before him appeared like a snake ready to pounce, this was the chance Tawo had hoped for. Never would he give it up, not when so many lives depended on him. Thus, with his calmest smile, he bowed again and made his bold move.

“If this simple mortal could be so forward, there is nothing he would wish more than to meet the great king and thank him for his invitation, in person.”