“There’s one more thing I’m wondering about,” Belamus said quietly. “Is it possible that Garmatt misunderstood something? He claimed he saw a journal detailing the plan, but… is that really enough to prove the man intended to bring down the kingdom?”
“Garmatt was a capable man,” Rugen replied, his voice firm and thoughtful. “And the fact that multiple others agreed with his view and chose to rise against the kingdom suggests his reasoning wasn’t entirely flawed. To me, what’s far stranger is how someone once seen as essential to preventing calamity is now treated as the source of it. Those born with the Leaf Mark—like Lady Mimi—are condemned as cursed, branded as harbingers of disaster. But from what I’ve read, they weren’t even uncommon in the past. If simply existing caused a catastrophe, the kingdom would have fallen ages ago.”
Belamus found himself nodding. Much of what Rugen said made sense. Garmatt’s journal seemed credible, at least to some extent.
“But, um…” Mimi’s voice wavered as she looked up, concern clouding her eyes. “The man who turned dwarves like me, those with the Leaf Mark, into villains… What was his name? He lived a long time ago, right? So, he’s probably dead now. But then why are people still trying to erase everything about the Leaf Mark?”
“Because the laws he established are still in effect,” Rugen said gravely. “Within the palace, it’s decreed that all records related to the Leaf Mark are false and dangerous. Every trace is to be wiped away. If someone bearing the mark appears, they’re to be erased as well.”
“No… that’s awful…” Mimi whispered, bowing her head as if the weight of those words had crushed her.
As Belamus listened, the truth began to settle around him, heavy and inescapable. The deeper he understood the situation, the more certain he became: Mimi had little hope of returning to the kingdom openly. There was almost no doubt now: she wasn’t cursed. But convincing the kingdom of that would be next to impossible.
Even if they presented old records and explained everything logically, it would all be dismissed as nonsense. Too many documents had been destroyed. No one even knew what kind of calamity was supposed to occur without a “Blessed One.” With such gaps in knowledge, there simply wasn’t enough proof to change anyone’s mind. Even showing them Garmatt’s journal would be useless. The kingdom had already painted its organization—Gagagamoor—as a den of traitors and villains.
Naturally, if Garmatt had founded that organization, he would have been considered a criminal by the kingdom. And no one would take the journal of a branded traitor as legitimate evidence.
Still, there was a chance, however slim, that Belamus could negotiate with the dwarves, especially if Rugen agreed to help. This place merely housed the forbidden texts; it didn’t seem like Rugen himself had been banished from the kingdom. If he had, he wouldn’t have had access to any of these records in the first place.
Even so, Belamus couldn’t ignore the thought of Mimi being permanently exiled from her homeland. It wasn’t something he could accept, not without a fight.
“I understand Mimi’s situation now,” he said, glancing at her with quiet resolve. “But what would it actually take for her to return to the kingdom?”
Rugen folded his arms, voice low. “It’s incredibly difficult… but there is one lead. In fact, it’s the very reason I sent Mimi that letter.”
Belamus frowned. “What do you mean?” The answer was vague, and Belamus needed clarity.
“That organization I mentioned, Gagagamoor, it still exists,” Rugen explained. “Garmatt’s descendants lead it now. I’ve been trying to make contact. They likely know far more about the Blessed Ones than I ever could. I managed to meet with one of their agents. And during that meeting, they gave me a condition.”
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
“They told me that if I wanted to meet their current leader, I’d need to bring them someone with the blessing. At the time, I thought it was an impossible demand. But then… I heard rumors. That Mimi had been branded cursed and was facing execution. Normally, a commoner would be killed immediately, but a royal? That would take time. I gambled that if I acted fast enough, I could still reach her in time, and that’s why I sent the letter.”
“So… if we meet with Gagagamoor,” Belamus asked, heart beginning to race, “there’s a chance this could all change?”
“I can’t promise that,” Rugen replied solemnly. “Gagagamoor is still a small, hunted faction. They don’t have real power. But what they do have is information. Even if we can’t sway the palace, we might be able to sway the people. If we can gather enough truth, and if Mimi herself can speak from the heart, some may choose to stand by her.”
Mimi went quiet, her gaze dropping as the weight of those words settled in her mind. Rugen’s words offered no promise of victory. No guarantee she’d ever set foot in her homeland again. And how could someone as young as she was, someone with no confidence, win hearts and change minds, possibly believe she could make a difference?
“Of course, you’re free to walk away and return to that new land Belamus spoke of,” Rugen offered, his tone gently pragmatic. “A place where monsters live in great numbers… It may not be home, but you could survive there. Life would go on. It might get lonely, being the only dwarf, but it’s an option nonetheless.”
Presented with a second path, Mimi seemed torn. And really, who could blame her? Risking her life just to go back might be foolish. Maybe it would be wiser, safer, to follow Belamus back to his town and live quietly. But live nonetheless.
After a long pause, Mimi raised her head.
“I… I want to go back,” she said softly, but with growing resolve. “It might be hard. It might be impossible. But if what you said is true—if something terrible happens without a dwarf like me, someone with the Leaf Mark—then I can’t just disappear. What if I’m the last one left? If the kingdom really is in danger, then I have to stay in Crystia… even if I can’t set foot in the palace again. Please… take me to the leader of Gagagamoor.”