Dormir
"No nurse at the hospital could ever doubt the vibrant doctor’s honest and diligent work."
A male voice announced to the countless number of people standing with their heads bowed, some with their hats in hand. There was a slight pause as the man adjusted his suit, making sure his director badge is placed straight and visible out of habit. His eyes swept along his surroundings once more to take in the image of the solemn crowd and the coffin which laid before him. He willed his voice to continue with the speech once more, accompanied by a soft crackle of feedback of the mic.
"As a hard-working doctor, she has never judged a person by their appearance, gender or race nor had she ever lost her temper to a patient. Her helping hand reached to every member of the facility and in every emergency, regardless of how precarious the situation, always supportive of the patients’ families and friends. She was skilled at her profession of saving lives, and though there had been unfortunate events in the past, this did not falter her virtue any less.
It also became a daily routine for her to work overtime well through the night, treating each patient with care regardless whether they were under her responsibility or not. For this reason we can comfortably say that her constant battle to stay awake between each successful treatment of the patients, how she used to bob her head up and down as if to kiss the cafeteria table in front of her we were well-prepared to overlook."
Perhaps the man had mentioned the last bit as a means to lighten the mood, evident by the slightly higher tone of voice and a small awkward laughter that trailed off at the end, but soft sobs were all that he received as a reply. Clearing his throat, he continued.
"During the decade in which she worked as a doctor, she had moved the hearts of her patients and was one of the reasons why our facilities became famous throughout the region. We of the State Hospital will never forget the lives she has saved and worked for since her youthful days. It saddens us greatly to send you off so early. Farewell doctor, thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and may you rest in your well-deserved peace."
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Chapter One
“The young master has woken up!”
“The young master?”
“Thank the heavens!”
Chatters of joy spread quickly throughout the Inmos Mansion like the warm spring breeze outside; the sun was ablaze with a radiant glow which happily basked the forest surrounding the mansion. Men and women of all ages and faces, all wearing the identical black suits or frilly maid outfit were visible from the windows, rushing towards the highest floor.
“Oh how long has it been since our sweet little master has fallen ill?”
“Almost three years, woman. Three!”
“That’s three years too long since i saw his cheeky smile...”
“Hey now, we can finally see the master again so don’t tear up!”
At the same time as the crowd coming up in haste, in the room of the highest floor, a couple were caressing a child in the bed. The room was as devoid of details as the servants’ attire, consisting only of a simple white coffee table, some wooden chairs and a bed which was arguably the only source of colour; a brilliant one at that, draped with luxurious blue, the fabric of an unimaginably soft quality. The couple who were holding the child were also richly dressed; the man showed little sign of aging, his braided locks of brown hair coming down to his neck. He had a crisp, long-sleeved tailored shirt on with a royal blue and gold-stitched fabric draped over his shoulders, the fabric hanging loosely all the way down to his lower clothing and shoes. There was a ripple of happiness shining within his eyes which were easy to locate like two pools of clear blue pond amidst the brown forest of facial hair covering his face. The woman’s eyes were hidden beneath closed lids, her skin holding a slight tan with two wet trails of joy appearing down her face. She looked to be in her late twenties, definitely younger than the man whose hand she was holding tightly. Perhaps due to her complexion, but her simple dress seemed to shine with grace. Her slim figure was very pronounced against the dress, the curves and all - especially more so when she moved to hold the child in her embrace.
On the other side of the bed sat a young cleric who still had some childish features despite reaching adulthood. His hand was resting on the wooden cross-shaped amulet around his neck while the other on the holy scriptures on his lap. His face was clean of facial hair unlike the other man but the flaming-orange hair of his was more than enough to draw in others’ attention. He looked at the couple with a soft smile, knowing how pained they were all this time to see their only son in bed, lifeless and pale. The cleric’s face darkened a little soon after, recalling that their ordeal wasn't over just yet. His eyes went to the child, the young master of this mansion. The young master, who had turned fourteen this year. He was still deathly pale, almost as pale as the simple gown around the boy, though he was recovering fast as shown by the swirl of pink in his cheeks. His eyes and hair had lost much of their original charm due to the draining illness and while it would be difficult to regain its former glory, all was not lost; flickers of green were emerging amidst his ill-silver hair, the colour inherited from his mother.
“Thank you, oh thank you, we owe you our lives,” A manly voice broke the cleric’s thoughts. He turned to face the owner of the voice.
“I merely kept the young master’s health in check. It was all the young master’s will which was able to surpass the illness, Sir Hugh Inmos.” The cleric replied with sincerity, for it was true.
“You have allowed our son enough time to tame the illness, that in itself is enough to owe you our lives,” The woman in the dress addressed the cleric this time, her voice clear and strong unlike that of a woman crying tears of joy. The cleric smiled and bowed, but faced the two again, deciding that it was something they needed to know right away.
“There is one troubling fact,” he paused, catching the lady losing her composure for a fraction, her glittering amber eyes wide and mouth open before she caught herself. He continued his words while pretending he did not see her reaction. He was well-acquainted with the masters of the Inmos House, but even if he wasn’t he was willing to overlook how the woman of perfection, Lady Ann Inmos had lost face; before she was the figurehead of the Inmos House, she was a mother.
“The young master... does not seem to remember anything. When he woke up, his eyes were blank and confused. I have seen this many times before from patients recovering from long-term ailment. At first I thought it was the shock of waking up after the extended period of unconsciousness, but now I am certain that the young master is suffering from complete amnesia.”
Silence followed the cleric’s words. Sharp gasps broke the silence soon after; the servants who had reached the room and crowded to see their young master had finally processed what they’ve heard. As if that was the trigger, the man snapped out of his shock and looked at the child who flinched at the sudden fierce gaze upon him.
“Is this true, my son? Do you not recognize your father, or your mother? Do you not understand me?!” The child’s eyes widened with fear as the man spoke, his voice getting louder by the second. The woman swiftly held her arms around the child protectively at that, shooting a glare at the man.
“Why are you berating our son? If he does not remember, we can help him regain them! If he cannot speak, we can teach him again!” Silence filled the room again as the man and woman held their gazes. Before long, the man closed his eyes. Without another word, he got up and left the room.
After a time, the woman relaxed her protective hold around the boy. She looked at him with soft eyes, murmuring ‘everything is fine now’ both to herself and to her only son. She knew of the man who was her husband. She knew his love for their son. How he had great hopes, how he longed for their son to become the next Head of the Inmos House. Though his love was as great as her own, she also knew that Sir Hugh was a warrior to the bone; he was not one for subtlety. And yet, she also knew, he would never be able to give up on their son. He was certain to accept their son just given time to cool down.
“There there,” the woman comforted the child. “Your foolish father is being hard-headed as usual. Do not worry though, Hywel. I am here for you… and over time, we will both be here for you. For now, just get better soon. I wish to see you playing wholeheartedly and without a worry once more."
The western side of the mansion was blooming with red, orange and brown of shedding trees. Most of the beasts in the wild had settled down in preparation for the coming winter, and so there were little activity seen from the windows of the Inmos Mansion. If one looked out the eastern side of the mansion however, they would see that the evergreens were at their primes, a magnificent sea of green as always despite the sepia glow of the setting Autumn sunlight.
Unlike two seasons before, the young master’s room now had decent furniture: a wide closet that covered the windowless side of the wall, artistic designs chiseled on the doors; a reddish-brown desk with papers and writing tools scattered about; and a bookshelf beside the desk of the same wood, crammed with all sorts of books. There was a window located from about waist-high on the wall diagonally opposite to the door; it was big enough for a boy of fourteen years to sit with his back against the sill comfortably. In fact, that was what the young master did most of his time inside; stare out the window to the nature which was getting ready for the cold winter. The boy, or as the servants called him ‘master Hywel’, had on a tunic which came down to his thighs, the family crest stitched on the left shoulder with a dark green material. His blue-violet eyes shifted from the wind-swept forest to the darkening horizon as the sun made its descent to the west. That was when there was a knock on the door, which the boy had expected; after all, this was his daily routine now.
“Come in,” he called with his soft yet clear voice without moving from the windowsill. The door opened with only a single creak when the knob turned, revealing a man robed in blue who looked to be at least in his sixties. The only trace of hair on his gleaming round head was his white brows and a long, braided beard that was thrown back and around his neck like a neck warmer. He had a pair of crooked half-moon glasses resting on his equally crooked nose, a stack of books held in his left armpit.
“Master Hywel,” The old man bowed slightly, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing as he formed a warm smile. His eyes shone with intelligence, his hazel gaze at the young master.
“Teacher,” Hywel returned the greeting without looking back. If a stranger saw this, they may think the boy had no manners to their elders, but the scholar Hildes knew better. There were no trace of discrimination in the young master’s voice, nor did he showed confusion at being greeted like in the past, as if he did not know what the scholar was saying. In fact, this was now a common greeting to the two here.
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Hildes closed the door as silently as he opened it and sat himself down at the desk chair, preparing to start today’s studies while going through how much the boy has progressed. Amongst the pile of papers, the scholar found the sheets of paper he had left as homework.
“Now then, shall we start off with what we learnt last time?” Hildes called out towards the boy as he shifted through the papers in his hands. The boy did not respond for a second or so before his clear, still high-pitched voice drifted around the room once more.
“The kingdom of Glordia, the greatest kingdom in the world. It is currently governed by the humble King Glordia the fifth and the twelve Houses, established by the first king of Glordia during his reign. The twelve Houses are Adecia, Cygwin, Elegia, Grinmous, Inmos, Kniver, Masque, Ophress, Qwantas, Supre, Ultimos and Wyveria. Each House swore eternal loyalty to the royal family and the head of the family is rightfully knighted by the current king to support the kingdom with their unique talents.
The Inmos family serves the king with the duty of the guardian; they are called to action in times of war to protect the kingdom’s people and the land, and to guard the kingdom’s treasures and secrets during peace. Our foremost priority as the Inmos House is not the royal family, but the kingdom itself. In recognition to this, the Inmos house crest consists of the Orichalcum tree, a tree named after the fabled metal for its hard bark, standing tall with its roots holding down firmly on a piece of earth floating in the void.” Hywel paused after that, but continued as the room was silent except for the sound of shuffling papers in the scholar’s hands.
“To the North of the Kingdom lies the Elves’ Forests where men are forbidden to enter. To the East lies the greatest enemy, the nation of Runia which had grown in power over the years and is constantly at war with the peace-loving Glordia. The Adecia House and the Cygwin House currently governs the wars happening in the Eastern borders of Glordia to fend off the kingdom. To the South lies the vast ocean, and across it lies the Isles of Corvum. In record, there are a total of seven islets, however there have been rumours that there are far more islets than it is known. The expedition parties sent by the Qwantas House has yet to confirm this fact. To the South-West are the mountain ranges where a Dragon is said to reside, thus named the Dragon’s Nest. The King has yet to send any troops out in that direction in caution, resulting a void of records to what lies beyond the mountains. Lastly, to the North-West is the appropriately named Silk Road for it is a crossroad where the merchants from across the world gather. This is why the kingdom of Glordia thrived; they had direct access to the Silk Road for supplies and trades, as well as the reason why Runia is looking for a chance to claim the lands of Glordia.”
“That will do for now,” Hildes finally spoke, and unknown to Hywel whose eyes were still lingering to the sight out the window, the scholar had a bitter smile on his face remembering how much this boy had absorbed in such a short time; only two seasons ago they weren’t even able to communicate, but now he was picking up and remembering everything perfectly, albeit a slight slur of an accent which he had never heard of before. Hildes pondered in his own time of this peculiar accent which the young master did not have before the illness. The young master did not roll his 'r' like those from Runia, nor did he dull the 'k' like the elves. It wasn't similar to the foreigners who regularly visited the silk road, who often had trouble between the 'r' and the 'l' sounds either. Of course there may be other foreign accents which Hildes have yet to come across in his lifetime, but even then he was stumped as to how the young master who had never set foot outside the Inmos Forest could have such accent.
“Now then, today is about the Powers That Be.” Hildes’ tone changed in an instant, taking a more childish vocabulary. It was a habit of his, picked up from the countless years of teaching; the younger students fared better with ‘small’ words. True to his intuition, Hywel found it better to understand when Hildes talked like this due to his limited vocabulary; whilst he was able to memorize how the words sounded to recite long texts he was given over the course of the seasons he was taught, the majority of these memorization made little sense or meaning to the learning boy.
“Listen well; every tree, every living person and even the table there... Do you know what they all have? Mana.
Mana is an energy. We eat bread so we get Mana. To use magic, we need Mana. We breathe air because we need Mana inside us. We lose our Mana little by little as we move, you see.” He paused to catch his breath as well as thinking up more ways to describe Mana. Part of the joy Hildes found from his profession was to stretch his imagination, to try and describe a context in various ways for the students to feel or imagine it in ways words on paper cannot hope to relay.
“Mana is life. Put your hand on your chest; can you feel the beating? Mana is in there and makes it beat, makes you move as you want. Ah, but what about that table? Mana is in those too, but... let's say they are Mana that is sleeping. Mana sleeps in tables, in pebbles, on the earth. People who use magic can wake this sleeping Mana to make magic happen. Ah now, what is magic? Magic is a thing which can heal you, or make fire. It can help you sleep better or make you live longer! This is why-”
Hildes words trailed off. For once, for the first time ever, the boy had turned around during their lesson. Their eyes met; his vision seemingly blurring of everything but the pair of piercing blue-violet eyes. This wasn’t the first time he saw the young master’s face, but the way his eyes glowed with such... such life. He knew that something was wrong here; how could a fourteen year-old who had never set foot outside the forest, just an ordinary, perhaps slightly clever boy of noble birth who had lost his memory and had to relearn everything, have such vibrant eyes?
“Mana... can make me live longer?” the young master asked in his usual soft voice, but to Hildes it sounded louder than normal. He also caught a hint of excitement under the words. He gave a slight nod, still entranced by the sudden intense interest. After a pause, the boy broke his gaze and turned back to the window. Everything went back as if Hywel never turned around, and Hildes sat there gaping.
“Teacher,” It was Hywel who broke the silence.
“...Yes?”
“About these people who can use magic...”
“Ah.” Hildes remembered what he was talking about before the sudden interruption. He also knew that this was how the young master asked when he was curious; rather than a direct question, he would often trail off. Out of curiosity he had asked the boy before. He showed a cheeky smile as if to say ‘I won’t tell you’ but then answered it honestly while blushing: “Because before, people could lose their lives if I didn't know...” He wasn’t entirely sure what the young master meant. Even so, he wasn’t able to get anything else out of the boy and eventually gave up.
“There are many names for them; wizards, swordsman, elementalists, clerics... We call them differently for what kind of magic they can perform, just like how there are many kinds of things in the world to get Mana from. From these people, we can separate into three groups: mages who use Mana in the nature; warriors who use Mana in their body; and worshippers who gain Mana through gods." Whilst talking, Hildes kept a close eye on the young master, however there were no particular events like earlier. He just sat there, staring out the window while listening to the scholar's words.
"The Great Sage Ivan Kniver, whose son’s son is the current head of the Kniver House, is an example of a mage. Sages are mages who has unimaginable power over a single element; the Great sage Ivan has complete control over fire magic. He is well over a hundred, serving as the overseer of everything happening in the palace.
Sir Hugh Inmos is an example of a warrior. He is called The Spear due to his weapon. Sir Hugh can use the Mana in him to make his spear stronger, or harder to break. He can also use it to heal small wounds and strengthen his body. It is also the secret to his handsome looks; who would think Sir Hugh would be in his late-fifties?
Lastly, the mansion clerics will be examples of worshippers. They receive Mana from the goddess Sola. There are many gods and goddesses who can grant you their Mana but to do so you will need to please them some way."
Hildes’ lecture went on even after the sun had set and well into the night. By the time they were done, the moon was high above the sky between millions of bright stars. It was impossible to see anything more than silhouettes despite the lights in the sky, which forced the need for a candle in every room of the mansion. And as always Hywel would have to be in bed as soon as the lecture was over. After a short parting greeting, Hywel was alone again in his room. As the night deepened, the mansion fell quiet as all but the guards on duty and maids on night-shifts fell to slumber.
That night was especially chilly, a sign of winter only around the corner. The guards on patrol around the mansion were all in twos, one holding a torch, the other a weapon in hand. Most were quiet in the darkness, but some were talking to themselves as they held an eye out for any suspicious movements.
“...Hey,”
“What?”
“Look, there’s light on the top window,” A guard pointed to a window on the western side of the mansion.
“Ah, that’d be the young master.” his partner answered with little interest.
“You mean master Hywel?”
“Yeah, this your first time patrolling? he always has his light on at night. Must be scared of the dark or something.”
“But at this hour... the candle would’ve snuffed itself out unless he’s awake to relight another one...”
“Now that you mention it, you’re right; but his room is lit every night, surely he must sleep? Maybe he has a maid or someone to relight it every night.”
“Yeah... but that young master, isn’t he a little... peculiar?”
“What do you mean?” the partner was now starting to actually listen; after all, they were walking around a building in the middle of a forest in the dark, it wasn’t exactly eventful.
“Well... he had that illness right? the one where your life whiffs away and you lose colour from your body...”
“Yeah, I once had duty near the young master’s room during the past, his hair and skin were completely white. I thought it was the end.”
“Exactly, I heard that once your hair turned white there was no way to live. Something about how the body can’t hold Mana anymore so it was imminent death.”
The two fell silent at that, their mind reeling a reasonable answer... finding none. And another question popped up in their minds; if he didn’t need to sleep anymore... as well as the fact that he had avoided certain death... would he still be a normal human?
As the night deepened, the two guards felt a chill up their spine which had nothing to do with the weather.