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Chapter 2
When the first ray of dawn s.h.i.+nes through the window pane upon his soft bed, You Lian’s eyes are already open. Sitting up, he looks into the panorama outside the window – a viridian forest, exuding vim and vigor beneath the sunlight, surrounded by mountains; the melodious birdsong mimics a beautiful symphonic movement. You Lian concentrates on appreciating the tableau before him, then lets out a slight, heartfelt smile. It has been a long time since he’d last seen such lovely scenery. At daybreak, the wandering spirits had already disappeared into the murkiness of shadow, returning once again to their subterranean domain. However, they were nothing if not efficient. When You Lian walks out of his bedroom, he sees a clean, neat corridor, the moth-eaten curtains completely drawn back and gathered to both sides. The dirty, cracked gla.s.s had become sparklingly clear, almost like new – as long as one ignored the surfaces’ gossamer cracks.
Also gone were the abundant weeds within the floor’s crevices and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The dull, faded red carpet was restored to a glowing crimson. The wandering souls had carried out You Lian’s demands to the letter, and in doing so, perfectly and completely showed off what they were capable of. In truth, You Lian only discovered the existence of this drove of wandering spirits after he had come into owners.h.i.+p of the castle. Using his power as a knight of demise, he signed a contract with the throng of souls, and thereby became their master. According to the spirits themselves, the castle’s environs had once been part of the territory of a certain necromancer. In that bygone era, this necromancer had learned a kind of a secret soul-enslaving art, with which he created this batch of wandering spirits. According to You Lian’s conjecture, the necromancer had likely desired to create a flock of undead servants for personal usage, but unfortunately, he departed on an excursion before he could finish the job, and was summarily slain by an adversary. As a result, the swarm of spirits – bound by magic but physically formless – had little choice but to linger in this G.o.dforsaken place. With the pa.s.sing of time, men seized this piece of land and built a castle upon it; out of necessity, the wandering spirits began concealed residence in a shadowy realm beneath the earth. Because of the constraining nature of the secret art used in their creation, these wandering spirits know not death, nor are they able to disappear. Consequently, before his death, You Lian entrusted them with the tasks of managing and protecting his castle, absorbing select powerful souls, and maintaining the operation of the magic circle which would facilitate his revival. So far, it looks like they did a very good job. The fact that they are forced to withdraw to the subterranean realm after sunrise is the only disappointment. Not from fear of destruction, but from the natural aversion of undead creatures to sunlight. Even though the sun does not harm them, their abilities are nevertheless severely reduced; during daytime, there is little difference between them and thin air. Currently, You Lian’s castle contains only one human – himself. In the youth’s memory, even though an old coachman had accompanied him here, the former had rapidly departed after their arrival at the destination, doubtless in an attempt to distance himself from this dangerous and mysterious place, and so the youth was left alone. ; He observes that the youth, surname “Felix”, did know about the rumors surrounding the place, but a youthful brashness and determination prevented him from withdrawing. In his inspection of the previous owner’s effects last evening, he discovers the abject poverty of his predecessor; aside from food, he owns only a single change of clothes, and several history books. Of course, the youth possesses also the doc.u.ments relating to the conferral of his fiefdom, given him by those aristocrats; the doc.u.ments are all authentic, with no fabrication. Perhaps the n.o.blemen issuing them had considered that the brat wouldn’t live long there, so there was no reason to waste time and energy creating forgeries. This particular doc.u.ment expresses that he – You Lian, or rather, Julian Felix (out of convenience and to avoid suspicion, You Lian combines the surname on the doc.u.ment with an appropriate rendition of his actual name) [1] – had received the power of governance over the castle and its surrounding territories; as a lord with estate, he must pay taxes to the king in a timely fas.h.i.+on, and has the obligation to provide troops in defense of the entire nation. Naturally and accordingly with these duties, he enjoys in turn the powers of taxation, conscription, and … ah, ius primae noctis. [2] How profoundly tiresome. Upon reading those words, Julian curves his lips upwards; even in the previous world, he had doubts about this ius primae noctis, especially given n.o.blemen largely have no interest in this right. At the beginning, it may have been a by-product to show the position and imperium that lieges held, but in actuality, its application is shunned by the majority of the aristocracy. The reason, too, is simple. As the master of the land, one must attend to many things on a daily basis, especially if one’s holdings are significant in size. There are so many villages and towns in their demesnes, and many people are getting married at any time. As a liege, how could you make use of that right when you are already sorely pressed for time managing your own affairs? On a different note, even if the right is used, resultant offspring are a serious inconvenience; highborn have the opinion that their bloodline is sacrosanct and inviolate, so if a peasant bore a child with n.o.ble blood, the n.o.bleman had a mandate to rear the child – a black mark upon his reputation. [3] In these times, no methods exist to test paternity (through DNA, for example), so many examples existed of deceivers attempting to pa.s.s themselves off as b.a.s.t.a.r.d children. Furthermore, plenty of women were attracted by the prospect of wealth and prestige, so oftentimes, they were far more enthusiastic about the right than the actual lords. Because of all of the above factors, the ius primae noctis exists only de iure, and rarely in reality. After all, there are many ways for n.o.blemen to get their hands on beautiful women, and not all getting married fit into that category; so, claiming the right is more trouble than it’s worth. Thus, even though it had not been abolished, the ius only has usefulness as a reminder to the peasantry of their owners.h.i.+p by the aristocracy. This set of certificating doc.u.ments is the most valuable item in the youth’s belongings. After that, between ten and twenty gold coins, and a shortsword for personal defense – this aristocratic scion had been really poor. Though a liege is able to collect remuneration from the land under his rule, Julian is well aware that the only human settlement within his grounds was a small town at the foot of the mountains. Even within the nearby mountains, only beasts roamed, and no thieves and bandits could be seen. Originally, Julian chose this place for the dual purposes of concealment and repose, so in his view it had been better that there were few traces of people. But now, he discovers, things are a little more complicated. But there is something more important at hand. Julian picks up the youth’s shortsword. Like the weapons carried by other n.o.blemen, this shortsword is the type that carries no offensive merit; from the jewel inlays and the gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, it is evident that the sword was made with aesthetics as the primary consideration, a weapon to scam the wealthy. As a knight – a knight of demise – Julian’s most pressing need is his own weapon, which is a role clearly unfillable by this decorative shortsword. No, he needs something of higher quality. Musing on the topic, Julian suddenly recalls that in that town within the foothills, there had seemingly been a smithy. In his previous life, Julian had even commissioned some interesting trinkets there. Though seventy years had pa.s.sed, he imagines that few changes would take place in such a small-town place. Even if the original blacksmith had pa.s.sed due to age, his descendants should have inherited his skills and the store. It is best to act without delay. Julian has no such habit of procrastinating on his decisions. Luckily, the old coachman who had brought him here had a spot of conscience, and left behind a horse for the youth. With no reticence, Julian mounts the horse, traveling through the mountain trails to arrive in the small town. Julian’s appearance unexpectedly becomes the focus of the entire settlement. As a locale in the remoteness of the mountains, the towns.h.i.+p of Sunset isn’t altogether considered separate from the rest of the world, but neither is there much traffic. In this kind of place, where the sight of an outsider is scarce, any strange face becomes a hotly discussed topic du jour. This is the reason that Julian became a centre of attention as soon as he had entered the town. “Look, that’s him, the new master of that castle.” “Poor guy, he’s so young…” “By the Holy Grace above … what has the world come to …” Pity, fear, sorrow, confusion, curiosity; gazes of every kind are cast on Julian before swiftly withdrawn. Julian doesn’t mind their stares, riding in leisure towards the location of the blacksmith in his memory. This kind of town is rarely traveled, but on the other hand is also rarely altered. Though seventy years had pa.s.sed, he can still see many familiar buildings on the street; even the tilt in the Rose Tavern’s signage is the same slant, unaffected by the pa.s.sage of time. It almost seemed like the town itself was frozen in time, untouched and unchanging. Naturally, Julian finds the blacksmith in question very quickly. Compared to seven decades ago, several new changes have been added: the well-worn wooden door has received a layer of copper, and the signboard, replaced with one of new peachwood. Standing at the door, Julian inhales and exhales lightly, appreciating the warmth from within and the scent of metalworking. A smile creeps onto his visage as he pushes open the door, and walks inside. Then, Julian is stunned. There is an idiom that one must not judge a book by its cover. Only today does Julian fully appreciate its true meaning. From its outward appearance, the smith is little different; understandably, Julian expects the same of its interior. He didn’t forecast that the situation would be like a duck paddling in water – all the motion is beneath the surface. The weapons, s.h.i.+elds, armor that hung on the walls in Julian’s memory had all disappeared. Replacing them were pitchforks, hoes, and rows upon rows of dazzlingly brilliant … kitchen knives. Rather than a smithy, it would be better to call this place a farm supply proprietor. Julian stares blankly behind the knives and pitchforks, at a figure who is hammering away at his anvil and forge … and is momentarily at a loss for words. [1] I finally get to make the name bamboozle swap. Finally. [2] The ius primae noctis, also called the droit du seigneur; if you don't know what this is, consider the Wikipedia entry. Yes, it's largely fictional, but oh well.
[3] Historically I'm not sure if this was necessarily the case. However, n.o.ble (royal is the souped up version I s'pose) b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were usually treated fairly well by their biological parent otherwise; the princ.i.p.al inheritance was out of the question, but some nice presents once in a while was just fine. Consider the twenty-odd illegitimate children of Henry I, for example.
When the first ray of dawn s.h.i.+nes through the window pane upon his soft bed, You Lian’s eyes are already open. Sitting up, he looks into the panorama outside the window – a viridian forest, exuding vim and vigor beneath the sunlight, surrounded by mountains; the melodious birdsong mimics a beautiful symphonic movement. You Lian concentrates on appreciating the tableau before him, then lets out a slight, heartfelt smile. It has been a long time since he’d last seen such lovely scenery. At daybreak, the wandering spirits had already disappeared into the murkiness of shadow, returning once again to their subterranean domain. However, they were nothing if not efficient. When You Lian walks out of his bedroom, he sees a clean, neat corridor, the moth-eaten curtains completely drawn back and gathered to both sides. The dirty, cracked gla.s.s had become sparklingly clear, almost like new – as long as one ignored the surfaces’ gossamer cracks.
Also gone were the abundant weeds within the floor’s crevices and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The dull, faded red carpet was restored to a glowing crimson. The wandering souls had carried out You Lian’s demands to the letter, and in doing so, perfectly and completely showed off what they were capable of. In truth, You Lian only discovered the existence of this drove of wandering spirits after he had come into owners.h.i.+p of the castle. Using his power as a knight of demise, he signed a contract with the throng of souls, and thereby became their master. According to the spirits themselves, the castle’s environs had once been part of the territory of a certain necromancer. In that bygone era, this necromancer had learned a kind of a secret soul-enslaving art, with which he created this batch of wandering spirits. According to You Lian’s conjecture, the necromancer had likely desired to create a flock of undead servants for personal usage, but unfortunately, he departed on an excursion before he could finish the job, and was summarily slain by an adversary. As a result, the swarm of spirits – bound by magic but physically formless – had little choice but to linger in this G.o.dforsaken place. With the pa.s.sing of time, men seized this piece of land and built a castle upon it; out of necessity, the wandering spirits began concealed residence in a shadowy realm beneath the earth. Because of the constraining nature of the secret art used in their creation, these wandering spirits know not death, nor are they able to disappear. Consequently, before his death, You Lian entrusted them with the tasks of managing and protecting his castle, absorbing select powerful souls, and maintaining the operation of the magic circle which would facilitate his revival. So far, it looks like they did a very good job. The fact that they are forced to withdraw to the subterranean realm after sunrise is the only disappointment. Not from fear of destruction, but from the natural aversion of undead creatures to sunlight. Even though the sun does not harm them, their abilities are nevertheless severely reduced; during daytime, there is little difference between them and thin air. Currently, You Lian’s castle contains only one human – himself. In the youth’s memory, even though an old coachman had accompanied him here, the former had rapidly departed after their arrival at the destination, doubtless in an attempt to distance himself from this dangerous and mysterious place, and so the youth was left alone. ; He observes that the youth, surname “Felix”, did know about the rumors surrounding the place, but a youthful brashness and determination prevented him from withdrawing. In his inspection of the previous owner’s effects last evening, he discovers the abject poverty of his predecessor; aside from food, he owns only a single change of clothes, and several history books. Of course, the youth possesses also the doc.u.ments relating to the conferral of his fiefdom, given him by those aristocrats; the doc.u.ments are all authentic, with no fabrication. Perhaps the n.o.blemen issuing them had considered that the brat wouldn’t live long there, so there was no reason to waste time and energy creating forgeries. This particular doc.u.ment expresses that he – You Lian, or rather, Julian Felix (out of convenience and to avoid suspicion, You Lian combines the surname on the doc.u.ment with an appropriate rendition of his actual name) [1] – had received the power of governance over the castle and its surrounding territories; as a lord with estate, he must pay taxes to the king in a timely fas.h.i.+on, and has the obligation to provide troops in defense of the entire nation. Naturally and accordingly with these duties, he enjoys in turn the powers of taxation, conscription, and … ah, ius primae noctis. [2] How profoundly tiresome. Upon reading those words, Julian curves his lips upwards; even in the previous world, he had doubts about this ius primae noctis, especially given n.o.blemen largely have no interest in this right. At the beginning, it may have been a by-product to show the position and imperium that lieges held, but in actuality, its application is shunned by the majority of the aristocracy. The reason, too, is simple. As the master of the land, one must attend to many things on a daily basis, especially if one’s holdings are significant in size. There are so many villages and towns in their demesnes, and many people are getting married at any time. As a liege, how could you make use of that right when you are already sorely pressed for time managing your own affairs? On a different note, even if the right is used, resultant offspring are a serious inconvenience; highborn have the opinion that their bloodline is sacrosanct and inviolate, so if a peasant bore a child with n.o.ble blood, the n.o.bleman had a mandate to rear the child – a black mark upon his reputation. [3] In these times, no methods exist to test paternity (through DNA, for example), so many examples existed of deceivers attempting to pa.s.s themselves off as b.a.s.t.a.r.d children. Furthermore, plenty of women were attracted by the prospect of wealth and prestige, so oftentimes, they were far more enthusiastic about the right than the actual lords. Because of all of the above factors, the ius primae noctis exists only de iure, and rarely in reality. After all, there are many ways for n.o.blemen to get their hands on beautiful women, and not all getting married fit into that category; so, claiming the right is more trouble than it’s worth. Thus, even though it had not been abolished, the ius only has usefulness as a reminder to the peasantry of their owners.h.i.+p by the aristocracy. This set of certificating doc.u.ments is the most valuable item in the youth’s belongings. After that, between ten and twenty gold coins, and a shortsword for personal defense – this aristocratic scion had been really poor. Though a liege is able to collect remuneration from the land under his rule, Julian is well aware that the only human settlement within his grounds was a small town at the foot of the mountains. Even within the nearby mountains, only beasts roamed, and no thieves and bandits could be seen. Originally, Julian chose this place for the dual purposes of concealment and repose, so in his view it had been better that there were few traces of people. But now, he discovers, things are a little more complicated. But there is something more important at hand. Julian picks up the youth’s shortsword. Like the weapons carried by other n.o.blemen, this shortsword is the type that carries no offensive merit; from the jewel inlays and the gold tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, it is evident that the sword was made with aesthetics as the primary consideration, a weapon to scam the wealthy. As a knight – a knight of demise – Julian’s most pressing need is his own weapon, which is a role clearly unfillable by this decorative shortsword. No, he needs something of higher quality. Musing on the topic, Julian suddenly recalls that in that town within the foothills, there had seemingly been a smithy. In his previous life, Julian had even commissioned some interesting trinkets there. Though seventy years had pa.s.sed, he imagines that few changes would take place in such a small-town place. Even if the original blacksmith had pa.s.sed due to age, his descendants should have inherited his skills and the store. It is best to act without delay. Julian has no such habit of procrastinating on his decisions. Luckily, the old coachman who had brought him here had a spot of conscience, and left behind a horse for the youth. With no reticence, Julian mounts the horse, traveling through the mountain trails to arrive in the small town. Julian’s appearance unexpectedly becomes the focus of the entire settlement. As a locale in the remoteness of the mountains, the towns.h.i.+p of Sunset isn’t altogether considered separate from the rest of the world, but neither is there much traffic. In this kind of place, where the sight of an outsider is scarce, any strange face becomes a hotly discussed topic du jour. This is the reason that Julian became a centre of attention as soon as he had entered the town. “Look, that’s him, the new master of that castle.” “Poor guy, he’s so young…” “By the Holy Grace above … what has the world come to …” Pity, fear, sorrow, confusion, curiosity; gazes of every kind are cast on Julian before swiftly withdrawn. Julian doesn’t mind their stares, riding in leisure towards the location of the blacksmith in his memory. This kind of town is rarely traveled, but on the other hand is also rarely altered. Though seventy years had pa.s.sed, he can still see many familiar buildings on the street; even the tilt in the Rose Tavern’s signage is the same slant, unaffected by the pa.s.sage of time. It almost seemed like the town itself was frozen in time, untouched and unchanging. Naturally, Julian finds the blacksmith in question very quickly. Compared to seven decades ago, several new changes have been added: the well-worn wooden door has received a layer of copper, and the signboard, replaced with one of new peachwood. Standing at the door, Julian inhales and exhales lightly, appreciating the warmth from within and the scent of metalworking. A smile creeps onto his visage as he pushes open the door, and walks inside. Then, Julian is stunned. There is an idiom that one must not judge a book by its cover. Only today does Julian fully appreciate its true meaning. From its outward appearance, the smith is little different; understandably, Julian expects the same of its interior. He didn’t forecast that the situation would be like a duck paddling in water – all the motion is beneath the surface. The weapons, s.h.i.+elds, armor that hung on the walls in Julian’s memory had all disappeared. Replacing them were pitchforks, hoes, and rows upon rows of dazzlingly brilliant … kitchen knives. Rather than a smithy, it would be better to call this place a farm supply proprietor. Julian stares blankly behind the knives and pitchforks, at a figure who is hammering away at his anvil and forge … and is momentarily at a loss for words. [1] I finally get to make the name bamboozle swap. Finally. [2] The ius primae noctis, also called the droit du seigneur; if you don't know what this is, consider the Wikipedia entry. Yes, it's largely fictional, but oh well.
[3] Historically I'm not sure if this was necessarily the case. However, n.o.ble (royal is the souped up version I s'pose) b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were usually treated fairly well by their biological parent otherwise; the princ.i.p.al inheritance was out of the question, but some nice presents once in a while was just fine. Consider the twenty-odd illegitimate children of Henry I, for example.
