Inveniri Potest
Qui Nullam Maculam
Justinius, wrapped in his cloak against the thick morning mist, stood in a patch of open soil, a makeshift crossroads, and shuffled his feet as he stared between the various paths before him.
Some could hardly be called paths, narrow patches of dirt spaced between stones that might grant purchase for the wary foot or steep indents in piles of dead leaves offering a slippery slope downward. The uncertain path he had come from hadn’t been much better and now he stared hesitantly at the various options before him, discounting none. All paths in this forest were viable since he knew not the destination. His toe inched toward one then pulled back, the other foot responding in kind toward a different path and halting. A deep sigh escaped him and, with a moment’s glance around at all the paths, he closed his eyes and listened.
A slight wind was shifting the mist all about him. Cool breeze. Rustling leaves. The feel of wet air. The smell of damp earth. All the smells and sounds of a forest as the embrace of Autumn approached, drawing in its last full breath of summer. He struggled to control his frustration and he relaxed and breathed out; his head cocked and his fingers playing with the short hairs on his chin. Creaking. Swaying. Scraping. Water. Humming. He opened his eyes, startled out of his reverie. He listened more closely. There it was again. A humming sound, melodic and beautiful. It was coming from the higher ground. He traveled up the stones, making his way further and higher into the forest as the humming sound grew. Justinius felt himself rejoice and removed the hood from his short ginger hair to allow them to see his face.
It did not take long for Justinius to spot them. A darting light amongst the morning mist alerted him to the first. Soon, several more darting lights were visible, all heading in the same direction, upward with him. The humming had become louder and had taken on not just a melody but a harmony. Justinius moved out of the trees and stepped into a clearing with several large rocks and giant trees with hollows inside. It was a colony of darting, glowing figures as they swirled and flew about in circles, finding places on which to alight.
The Fatae were small, barely the size of his hand from tip to wrist. Their angular, almost flat faces portrayed an otherworldly nature and their skin seemed to be translucent, changing color at a whim to match their surroundings or stand out in sharp contrast. Stranger still was the faint light that came from within their bodies. It was as if their heartbeat could be seen in light, for they shone forth with a soft glow that flashed at times. They scattered about their tree hollows and massive standing stones hollowed out within, which turned them into homes, and greeted one another without a sound. Their clothes, made of leather or fiber, fit them snuggly so that nothing trailed off them except the blur of ever-beating wings. They ignored Justinius as he entered the clearing and sat upon a stone in the center. There, he was content to watch and wait for the ritual, thrilled he had found yet another opportunity to witness this event.
The sun was rising, and with it, the voices of the Fatae who began to settle rather than fly. Their humming soon turned to a melody. It had no words, simply a harmony that was sung together unbroken. The words weren’t needed. Nature itself was the words as the scene before him changed. The mist began to fade as the voices became louder. The mist swirled in a gust of wind and the voices countered to match it. As the sun began to rise and light up the treetops, the mist was broken and the voices rose in a joyous harmony together as if to exclaim at the magnanimity of the sun and its power over the earth. Three last harmonies came as the Fatae went low, then high, then low again. Then, with a great buzzing of wings, they flew off in all directions.
Justinius sat, staring blissfully at the few remaining Fatae who lived in the glen. They bumbled and did loops about the clearing, seeming to care little about their actions. Some tended to flowerbeds, tossed insects from their homes, or tended to debarked trees while others chased one another about or sat idly in the openings of their homes, staring about and humming. Whether in some chore or frivolous activity, the Fatae remained content, their faces showing nothing but joy and peace. One Fatae approached Justinius as it spun in circles, apparently trying to make itself dizzy. It stopped in front of him, staring as it hovered awkwardly in the air. It then gave him a deep but cautious bow. Justinius smiled and sighed.
“You know,” he said, “I cannot tell if you put music to the changes in nature, or if nature changes for your music.”
*****
Justinius made his way carefully out of the hills and back down the valley where the fields and irrigation channels about his home shone in the morning sun. He exited the tree line and stepped onto the dirt road that led downhill, across a river, and into the fields about Reducta village. The crunching of loose gravel beneath his feet gave his steps a rhythmic pattern and he hummed, his steps holding the beat. Across the wooden bridge, he felt the soles of his sandals beat against the wood, already warmed by the sun and he smiled at the sensation. He peered over the bridge, checking the flowing river. “Nope,” he muttered. “No bodies today.”
Now on the opposite side of the river, Justinius gazed at the people caring for their fields as they began the first stages of gathering the crops. Rows of wheat, barley, and alfalfa gleamed in the sun and the smells filled his senses with the warmth of life. His tune matched the sights, full of vibrancy and life as he sought to mimic the little creatures he had watched before.
Many farmers greeted him, bowing and calling out, “Dominus.”
He nodded in return but didn’t tarry long. On crossing a second, flimsy bridge across an irrigation ditch, he was stopped by a pair of farmers who were pulling their obstinate ox with its burden of a cart along. “Dominus.”
“How do you do, my good men.”
“Well, Dominus.”
An awkward pause with the farmers staring and Justinius nodding. “Well…good. You will be at the harvest festival, will you not?”
“Of course, Dominus.”
Another pause. The young farmer, clearly the son, seemed like he wished to speak as his lips pursed and his gaze shone with excitement. Justinius nodded to him. “Speak.”
“Will you be singing for us this year again, Dominus?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t miss the tradition!”
The man smiled and silence fell again. Justinus felt irritation rising up within him as the farmers shifted uncomfortably before him. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He nodded to them. “Well…good day.”
They bowed. “Dominus.”
Their responses were lost on him as his mind turned inward and he strolled up the road. His brow furrowed in thought. He just couldn’t break through. No matter how much he tried to be friendly, they still were obligated to treat him with extreme civility and honor. He was stuck between two worlds...and it grated on him.
The closer he got to home, the more the farmers on the roadside recognized him. They greeted him with smiles but each time, the greeting began or ended with “Dominus” and was accompanied by a bow. At each, he smiled and waved to them and even chatted briefly with a few but never stayed long. His smile never stayed long on his face either. It was about midmorning by the time he reached a flat field of grass and, across it on the top of a hill overlooking much of the fields, sat the villa of Honerius. Home.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He smiled as he glanced briefly at the two flags flanking the stone gateway which he passed under. One was the Aquillan symbol of the eagle rising from the flames of a bonfire. The other symbol belonged to gens Honerius, the family title, which was an eagle in the forefront with a sword and a victory laurel tied around its handle in the background. Justinius smiled as a sound from within the villa caused his face to brighten. A sweet voice from within the home came to him as gracefully as any Fatae song.
“Fair maiden strong, what shall I do, when upon me, duty calls? Where will I go, who will I meet, what will my lord’s command be?”
Justinius continued to smile as he walked into the courtyard in front of the villa and made his way toward the house. He passed the flower beds and lined shrubs as servants nodded at him in greeting, smiling in return and murmuring, “Dominus”. They too seemed to be listening to the song and were unwilling to speak too loud lest they should interrupt the music. Into the house, Justinius wandered past the modest accommodations before him, low couches with cushions and a small oven on the opposite side with a table and four chairs. The sitting room was open to the air and the windows were all open to let the morning smells waft in with the breeze. He cocked his head to hear the next verse and realized it was coming from the second floor.
“Shall I be strong, when time grows old, and when I face my trials? Fair maiden bold, will I stand tall, when duty calls to me? Whatever comes, what will, what may, I will be bold and strong.”
Justinius walked as quietly as he could up the wooden stairs and emerged onto the second story. On one side were the bedrooms secluded at the back of the house and on the other, which he walked toward, was a small library filled with stacks of scrolls and bound stacks of papyrus. Standing by the open door to the balcony, a young woman was sifting through a stack of papyrus sheets, singing her tune. Justinius heard her take a breath for the final part of the song and he sang with her. “I will be bold and strong.”
She turned, startled, then smiled at him. “Oh. You are back.”
“You do love that song.”
“It is hard to resist it since you sang it to me that first night I arrived and couldn’t sleep.”
Justinius moved toward her and embraced her, planting a kiss on her forehead. “How is my half-sister doing today?”
“I am doing quite well. Did you see any Fatae?”
“I did.”
Instantly, the girl spun around. “You did? And you didn’t take me this time? You promised you would take me next time.”
“Not so loud, Lavinia. The servants don’t like hearing about magic...”
“Oh, tell me about them! Tell me!”
“All right! But important matters first, Lavinia. Show me your work.”
Lavinia Honerius looked aghast at him and threw up her hands. “You’re impossible! Yes, here are my studies and translations.”
She crossed the room and pulled out a series of papyrus strips from a set of scrolls and brought them over to him. “How many years have I been here and you still treat me like that impatient child who didn’t want to do her studies.”
“Well, she’s still in there,” said Justinius, taking her work and sitting. “After all, sixteen isn’t a huge leap from childhood. Are you sure you meant to-”?
“Yes, yes I did,” said Lavinia, standing beside him. “You can see my work is done. Now tell me about the Fatae before you tear apart my work!”
Justinius smiled at her. “Very well. Your old Aquillan can wait I suppose. Well, after a lot of searching, I heard them singing and found a clearing I thought I had lost. They had homes in the rocks and trees and a great many of them were flying above me. But their song…was beyond beautiful. Nature and their voices seemed to meld as one as the sun rose and dispelled the mist to reveal the world in clarity. After that, they flew away except a few to talk with me.”
“They talked with you?!”
“Well, no. They don’t seem to speak or, if they do, not any language we can understand.”
Lavinia sighed and stared into space. Then she smacked Justinius on his shoulder. “Next time, you take me with you! I don’t care if you think it’s dangerous! I am going to see the fair folk if it’s the last thing I do!”
Justinius laughed. “I promise, one of these days I will bring you along with me. After you finish your studies!”
“That will never happen!” she pouted, her arms crossing. “You say that all the time and it never happens. I will never see a Fatae and my studies will never be finished.”
“Life is a never-ending cycle of learning,” he responded.
“If it’s never-ending, what are you learning?”
Justinius pulled out a scroll from a pile, shifting aside the works of Virgilus Cantorius, his current favorite author in Aquilla. He carefully placed them aside and opened the scroll. “It’s a simple history of the Aequendar and the Aquillans and I am writing a treatise on their relations. Virgilus Cantorius has some interesting notes in his histories that are helping as well. You know, some of these histories claim the Fair Folk Wars were a defense against the Aequendar who grew fearful of our strength. I much prefer his speculation that claims we just got greedy for their land. My only problem with all of our histories is they don’t say why or how we beat them if they were so terrifying.”
Lavinia rolled her eyes. “History of course.”
“If you don’t learn from it you will suffer from it.”
“While nothing ever happens the same way twice,” snorted Lavinia. “That makes it difficult for us to learn from, don’t you think?”
“Human nature remains relatively the same regardless of time and culture,” said Justinius, smiling. “But yes…we never learn. In fact, it gives me some pause to even write my treatise. Then I shall have some absurd historian of the future picking apart my work, refusing to trust my word, and passing judgment on me while distorting it! After all, it’s what we historians do.”
Lavinia sat across from him. “Very cheery, as ever. Speaking of cheery, did you…see anyone today?”
“If you mean the bodies in the river, no. The fighting up north seems to be calming down. Let us hope the savage tribes solve their issues and get on with life without killing their people. I wouldn’t worry about them, they are too far north for us to worry about and we have the garrison of gens Montinius protecting our border. Your real concern should be whether we finished the preparations for the harvest festival.”
“Not completely,” said Lavinia, pulling out another scroll. “We still have two weeks till the gathering. Still, I planned out the layout of the tables and benches and I believe I worked out the number of people attending, or at least roughly, which will help us plan out the food arrangements. Most of the orders are already in.”
Justinius nodded down at her work. “Very good.” He glanced over at a side table and frowned. “What are these?”
“A courier arrived at the first light of dawn and delivered them to the villa. I believe there is a letter from Father in there.”
“I see,” he said, removing the scroll with the official seal of gens Honerius embalmed in the wax. “And you didn’t read it?”
“I thought it best to wait for you,” she said. “Besides, Father has little to say these days that is of much interest.”
“True enough,” said Justinius, breaking the seal and unrolling the letter to scan it. His flicking eyes suddenly stopped and moved more slowly as he read the letter. His face sagged and, after he finished, he dropped the letter onto his lap. Lavinia approached him and put a hand on his arm. “What is it? Is father well?”
“Yes…he is well,” said Justinius numbly, allowing her to take the letter from his hand. “He is coming with a party of guests to the villa within the next three weeks and will be staying here.”
Lavinia glanced up. “Oh…that isn’t so bad. It will be nice to see father again won’t it?”
“Of course! I always enjoy hearing about my failings and how I should be bettering myself.”
Lavinia kept scanning the letter as Justinius went out onto the balcony. “He intends to take you to Aquilla to finish your training and prepare you for political life. Translation: marriage. And he wants to…discuss my future.”
Lavinia grew pale. “Wait, what does this mean?”
Justinius stared out at the grounds, the gardens, and then beyond to the fields and forest. “He wants to take us both away from here and to Aquilla, the heart of our wretched country and its problems.”
Lavinia grew still and silent as Justinius continued to glare across the landscape. He had been here for years, surrounded by so much peace and prosperity. Now it was about to be taken away.
They were summoned by Horatius Honerius to the city of Aquilla, the capital of the republic.