In a town near the eastern border of the kingdom, a girl waited. The town was called Estosha, and the girl was called Riess. Ix was familiar with the village, but this was his first time meeting her. But somehow, she’d known his name. Cloaked in the cold air, everything in the area lost its color, as though it were the backdrop to a dream. Winter was always like this. People would hole themselves up in their homes, and sleep would descend upon the town. Just about everything would come to a stop as the snowflakes flitted through the air. It would stay that way until the snow melted. There weren’t any passengers in the carriage besides Ix. The depressed-looking coachman told him it would be the last journey of the year as he handed him his luggage. As Ix disembarked into the station, which was already shutting down for the end of the year, he saw someone sitting in a chair by the wall. Her back was perfectly straight, and her eyes were glassy and vacant. Her soft, light-colored hair stood out against her navy-blue clothing. As he moved closer, she turned to face him. This was Riess. “Welcome to the City of God,” she said in a tone that hardly suited a child not even ten years old. “The City of God?” he asked back, his head tilted. “Yes. Our community is closest to God.” “Sorry, I don’t know much about Marayism.” “This is your first time visiting, right?” She trained her unfocused eyes on him. “Coming here is every wand craftsman’s dream.” “I’m no craftsman, just an apprentice.” “But you came here to make wands.” “That’s true, but…” “Then you must know about the legend of Rednoff. Did you bring your Declaration of Equivalency?” Riess tilted her head slightly before clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk to you a bit. I’ll show you the way. Would you mind chatting while we walk?” “There was a map included with the letter. I can go alone.” “But you’ll get lost on your own. This town is very complicated. The other person got here a long time ago, so I’d feel bad making them wait in the cold.” “Aren’t you chilly, Riess?” Though the girl was wearing a few layers, she didn’t have a coat on. Ix wondered if the frigid winds blowing through here every now and then were too much for her. “Yeah. I’m not feeling so good, either,” she said, narrowing her eyes as if from a bright light, despite the fact that the sky was still covered behind a layer of gray clouds. “Can I get in your coat?” The girl didn’t wait for a response before she moved toward him, wrapped the bottom flaps of his coat around herself, and disappeared beneath them. Thinking it would be a pain to resist now, Ix didn’t protest when she told him to move, though it was tricky adjusting his stride to hers. Estosha’s streets were just as complex as Riess had claimed. The roads twisted and curved, so you couldn’t tell where they led. Ix would have ended up walking in circles had he gone off alone. “It’s like this because we’re close to the border,” Riess told him. “They built the city this way on purpose, to confuse invaders if they get inside.” “What’s the point of making it so bewildering? They should strengthen the outer defenses instead,” replied Ix. “They couldn’t improve the ramparts or the wand wall any more than they already had, so they turned to the interior. Besides, people get used to things being a little messy. No one who lives here gets lost.” “Have you ever been invaded?” “Thankfully, no one’s made it inside.” Ix could feel her shaking her head under his jacket. “But what’s aboveground doesn’t matter. The heart of defense is below.” “Below?” She must have meant underground. “I doubt anyone remembers, but that’s how it was originally.” Ix couldn’t help glancing at the pavement, but it was solidly built and didn’t look like it was in danger of collapsing anytime soon. Riess had told him she wanted to talk, but it seemed like she was more interested in telling him idle gossip than asking him anything. The few people who passed them on the street gave Ix suspicious looks as he addressed his coat. “Thinking about it,” started Ix, suddenly realizing something and taking his turn to speak, “you mentioned another person earlier. Does that mean they only called two people?” “No, there are three in total, including you. I said ‘the other person’ because they’re the other apprentice,” she replied evenly. “They should have a Declaration of Equivalency, too.” In accordance with kingdom law, only those who achieved the title of craftsman were permitted to make wands. However, it wasn’t realistic for this limited number of people to churn out every single wand, which was why shops off-loaded some of the work onto apprentices. This was allowed because a wand created under the supervision of a craftsman was considered the same as having been crafted by the craftsman themselves. There were a few rare instances, however, when apprentices would carry something called a Declaration of Equivalency to make wands outside of their instructor’s shop. It was a letter stating that the craftsman and apprentice were one and the same. That being said, these declarations were few and far between because they made the craftsman liable for whomever they gave them to. In practice, they were used in only the rarest of circumstances, such as grave emergencies or as a means of testing apprentices looking to become independent. “There’ll be one craftsman and two apprentices? Hope it goes well…,” murmured Ix. “Your master must have been busy,” said Riess. “No, she’s just the worst shut-in you’ve ever seen. And she’s not my master; she just studied under the same teacher I did. I also don’t have any plans to go independent.” “So she really trusts you?” “No…,” Ix responded. He thought back to Morna as she’d scribbled out the declaration. “I imagine she just didn’t put much thought into it. Or she didn’t want to go outside. Could be both.” The person who’d gotten here before him was probably close to going independent. Ix, on the other hand, would have nowhere to go if he set off by himself, and he didn’t have the funds to start a shop. He was lacking on all fronts. And without a store of his own, he wouldn’t be allowed to work independently. There came the sudden ringing of bells. The high-pitched sound rang out multiple times, echoing throughout the town. It was so loud that, for a moment, it was all Ix could hear. Oddly, though, it didn’t grate on his ears. Looking in the direction of the noise, he saw a bell tower peeking out from among the houses. “That’s Estosha Chapel,” stated Riess. “And that was the noon bell. You’re just passing through now, but you should take a look inside when you have time. It vies for the position of first- or second-most historical building in the kingdom.” “First or second?” “Something about that interest you?” “I heard the same thing said about the capital’s cathedral.” “Exactly. It’s vying with the capital’s cathedral.” Maybe it was just because the town was so old, but it seemed like Riess had a new tale or historical fact to rattle off every time they turned a corner. Her stories ranged from what sounded like real history to entirely unfounded rumor. “But…,” said Ix, tilting his head. They were passing through a square where a knight had supposedly ended his hundred-person killing spree by slaying his lover. “You’re telling me way too many things for this trip to be accidental.” “Maybe.” “Did you intentionally take me this way?” “It was just a little detour,” she said, unconcerned. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to walk with you a bit, even though I knew it would cause you trouble.” “And what about the other person who arrived earlier?” “I’ll apologize. But I suspect they’ll be forgiving. I am a child, after all.” “Not if you put it like that, they won’t.” “You think? If that happens, you can cover for me,” Riess said lightly. Ix couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “All right, now I’ll tell you what I’ve been saving for last.” “You still have more?” asked Ix, slightly exasperated. “I’m at the age when I want to talk about the things I remember. I won’t take you on any more detours once it’s over.” “I guess it’s fine, then,” said Ix with a shrug. “Why do you think people worship the sky?” “Sky? …Oh, you’re talking about Heaven’s Worship?” Ix remembered the Marayist festival. “That’s the one where they all gather at the end of the year and gaze at the sky, right…? It’s held around this time of year, too, now that you mention it.” “It’s curious,” Riess remarked as if she was talking to herself. “The only thing in the sky, besides the moon, are the stars above it. It’s not like God lives up there.” “Is that all you wanted to tell me? That you think the event is weird?” “No, I think it’s a very beautiful ritual.” “…So what’s this thing you saved for last, then?” “You are impatient, huh?” “I’m at the age when I can’t put up with anything.” Riess nodded in resignation. “During Heaven’s Worship, everyone in Estosha wishes on the stars. Since this town is the closest to God…,” She pointed a slender finger toward the sky. “…our voices carry from the Estosha Chapel up to the sky. That’s why there are so many stories in this city. Everyone talks because they want God to hear them. They tell all sorts of silly, pointless tales. But they shine like stars, so God draws near to listen. People say we’re close to God, but it’s actually the opposite—it’s God who gets close to us.” “Is that what you were waiting to tell me?” “…Will you come to Heaven’s Worship with me?” inquired Riess, looking up at Ix from inside his coat. She sounded a little unsure of herself for a change. But a moment later, she returned to her normal tone and said, “Ah, I got nervous. I was saving the invitation for last. So how about it?” He wasn’t so sure what to think about that last part. “You’re jumping the gun asking me to come with you, Riess,” he replied. “How do you even know who I am? Why are you inviting me to the festival? I don’t know how to reply to an invitation like that.” “Don’t worry, I’m done talking now.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “What do you want to wish for on the stars? Think it over.” At that, she fell silent. Just as Riess said, the path forward was completely straight. In fact, they were outside the city limits. Apparently, the city only had walls on the side that faced the border to the neighboring nation. The other sides had fences only to prevent animals coming near. The area probably had hardly any magic beasts living in it, either, which was why Estosha had been able to expand over the years. At the base of a far-off hill was a small forest, which surrounded a stone building. Though the white walls of the structure were conspicuous, it still looked oddly harmonious against the natural backdrop. Ix could easily guess it was the Lus Monastery. That was where his most recent request had come from and where he would be working over the winter. He noticed a fine sweat on his palms. He was nervous. Riess’s words ran through his mind over and over: the City of God. She was right; this city wasn’t just significant to the Marayists. The names Estosha and Rednoff had special meaning to wandmakers as well. Rednoff was the legendary craftsman who’d developed the fundamentals for crafting man-made wands. When the world finally acknowledged the value of his creations, Rednoff’s skills had reached their peak. It was then that he came to this town, Estosha, and was never heard from again. Though there were a number of stories about his fate, ranging from him committing suicide to secretly slipping away and leading a life of solitude, there was not a single clue as to his whereabouts. There was a grave for him in the capital, but the casket was empty. There was, however, a legend passed down among wandmakers, told as though it was true: Rednoff had crafted the ultimate wand in this town. That’s what they said. No one knew who’d first told the story or if they had any proof. It was obviously just a tall tale. But the reason this story was told over and over was because it held some sort of irresistible magic of its own. The ultimate wand. There wasn’t a single craftsman who didn’t dream of it, who didn’t aspire to forge it. That’s why they worked day in and day out to improve their craft, why they constantly thought: Would the ultimate magic catalyst be a wand? Or a staff? What wood would it take? What material would comprise its core? What adoption method would you use to create it? What kind of person could make a wand like that? Could that person be…me? People had high hopes that Munzil, Ix’s master, would forge that fabled catalyst. But in the end, he’d only ever made “excellent wands,” never “the ultimate wand.” There was an alluring quality to a story that said that, while all these wandmakers may come and go, Rednoff, their inspiration and genesis, had actually already achieved the impossible. It also provided a potential explanation as to his disappearance. Needless to say, a craftsman who made the ultimate wand would no longer have a reason to go on living. In other words, Rednoff was to wandmakers as God was to ordinary people, which was why they, too, considered Estosha significant. There were even a few ludicrous stories about the ultimate wand being hidden somewhere in the city or a neighboring country stealing it during a war. Ix obviously didn’t put stock in those tales. Rednoff had accomplished great things, but his time had long passed. These days, his crafting techniques were quite inefficient. It had taken years of improvements upon his methods to birth modern wands; there was no way Rednoff could have been just a single step away from producing the ultimate catalyst. Assuming such an item even existed. Still, Ix was a member of the wandmaker community, if only barely, so he was aware of Estosha and even felt drawn to the place. Hearing the history surrounding the town had only amplified those feelings. Just as he decided to thank Riess for showing him around, Ix realized she had disappeared at some point. It seemed he’d been too lost in thought to notice when she’d slipped out from under his jacket. The monastery had looked far away when he exited the city, but the walk actually wasn’t that bad. The sheer size of the building, along with the abnormal quiet of the place, took Ix aback as he approached. He’d heard a lot of people lived here, but the only thing he could make out now was the rustle of the wind in the trees. There were no sounds of life. Save for an abrupt shout. “Ah, you’re here! Finally!” Someone stood by the monastery’s entrance, one hand on their hip and the other pointing at Ix, who walked up to respond. “Seriously! Give some consideration to the person you made wait this whole time!” The person’s almond-shaped red eyes angled even more as they continued to rattle on. They had sky-blue hair. “I was so excited about another apprentice coming, but you just never showed. Were you not looking forward to meeting another apprentice at all?!” “Sorry, were you cold?” Ix managed to say, despite being overwhelmed by the person’s force. “Cold? What the hell are you on about? You made me wait! Who cares about the weather?! I was thinking we could have lunch together, but you never came, so I had to eat alone, which makes my stomach hurt. And when you still didn’t turn up after that, I got worried that you’d been in an accident. The waiting was the worst part!” “…Oh.” “Maybe you should actually think about what you’ve done. Eh, whatever. I’m Shuno. Nice to meet you.” They held out their right hand, still in its thick glove. “Yeah. I’m—” “Ix.” “Huh?” In the brief moment Ix was thrown off, Shuno reached up and brushed both of his shoulders. “You okay? You’re not cold?” they asked, their expression serious as they brought their face closer. “This is what happens when you stop to smell the roses every five steps.” Ix shook his head, not understanding what they were saying at all. That’s when he saw the snow—his namesake—piled on his shoulders. He glanced around, wondering when it had started to fall. The fluttering white flakes that filled his vision looked like shuno flowers—their namesake—dancing on the wind.
Chapter 32
15 min read