The dim light of early morning filtering through the high windows gave a mysterious aura to that arcane place. The echo of the steps sounded feeble on the stone floors as a young man approached the large dark wooden shelves filled with books and manuscripts.
He observed with curiosity their worn and yellowed appearance due to the passage of time. Most of them were handwritten by skilled scribes in elegant calligraphy, containing secrets of ancient wisdom, sacred texts, philosophies, and medical or botanical knowledge.
The library of the Yorster Abbey, a refuge of peace and silence, was the place where its inhabitants, the Benedictine monks, found comfort in prayer, study, and book copying. Silence reigned supreme in this abode of knowledge, interrupted only by the faint whisper of turning pages, the sound of quills sliding over parchment scrolls, and the reflections of young scribes trying to solve the puzzles contained in the texts.
At the back of the library, a large wooden lectern housed a young monk busy writing on some parchment.
He was so concentrated on his task that he barely noticed the presence of the newcomer.
"If a king is so hated and despised by his subjects that he can only control them by reducing them to poverty through violence, extortion, and confiscation of all their possessions, then he had better abdicate," the young man read aloud the last paragraph of his writing.
The monk turned abruptly towards him. "Lord Victor, what brings you here so early in the morning?"
"The night tempted me with doubts and dilemmas," he replied with a smile.
Celestino Foscari was a young Benedictine monk who had lived in the abbey for about ten years. He was a good-looking boy with raven hair and dark eyes. He had a kind and sincere smile, and his heart was full of pity and compassion for others. Celestino was a childhood friend of Victor who spent most of his days in the library, trying to enrich his knowledge and compose some verses. He loved the monastic life and his work within the abbey.
"What are you writing?" Victor approached the scattered parchment on the desk, trying to deduce the content with a quick glance.
"It's the beginning of my Utopia."
"The boundary between theory and heresy seems to be thinning," he commented.
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"I cannot remain silent, Victor. The dynamics of this society do not benefit anyone other than its aristocracy and its monarch."
"The word 'war' has fallen into oblivion here in Illyria. Isn't it thanks to the monarch you so despise?" Victor tried to provoke him.
"You know, I think your tutor is now advanced in age and, perhaps, would make better use of the few years he has left taking care of his garden."
"Don't be cruel to poor Rufus, he's really a good man, although I recognise his age is now advanced."
Celestino smiled and then walked away. He seemed to be searching for something and, after consulting some shelves near the side door of the library, he pulled out a tome of imposing dimensions entirely covered in a leather cover. The title read: Chronicles of Illyria by Umberto Echo.
Celestino placed the tome on the lectern and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. "Of the conquest of the kingdom of Illyria and the defeat of the northern regions of Caledonia and the western regions of Cambrogia." Victor sat down next to him and started reading.
> The battle of the Kingdom fought among Edward I and the peoples of the north and west, led respectively by Robert Bruce and Owain Dragonir, was one of the bloodiest and most horrifying in the history of Illyria.
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> The king's knights struck down their enemies, hitting them with force and killing them mercilessly. Arrows flew through the red sky, piercing thousands of bodies and leaving mortal wounds. These scenes continued without respite: warriors dying from sword wounds, flesh torn by spears, heads cut off by axes.
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> The peoples of the north and west showed dignified courage, but their resistance was nullified by the numerical superiority and ferocity of the king's opponents.
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> King Edward I proved to be a fearsome and ruthless warrior, leading his men to victory. His skill in combat was palpable, but his ferocity and thirst for blood seemed to have no limits.
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> Finally, the battle was lost for the peoples of the north and west, who suffered a bloody and devastating defeat. Death had taken over, leaving behind a scene of desolation and destruction. The northern regions of Caledonia and the western regions of Cambrogia had seen their territories reduced to a miserable strip of land.
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> Only the alleged clemency of the King had spared the lives of their leaders.
"The same story can be told from multiple points of view, and as far as I'm concerned, every chronicler could have had their reasons for taking one side or the other," Victor concluded.
"Your diplomacy will take you far, my dear Victor. Nevertheless, many chroniclers seem to agree on the version I have just read to you," Celestino commented with a mocking smile on his face.
The sun's rays filtered more intensely into the silent halls of the library, and the first morning praises could be heard in the distance. Victor rose from the desk and bid farewell to his friend: duties at the castle were about to begin.