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Gerontocratic Village: Adera
19th Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
Silent stillness fills the forest. Hours of tense travel have left Kyoko drained. She had thought this would be an—albeit somewhat awkward—overall pleasant journey. The igni reels from the realization of how inaccurate her expectations were.
Adding to her anxiety is apprehension over returning to EverEmber and potentially running into Kanako—something she’s been actively avoiding for six years.
The suns’ rays break through the edge of the forest and light the way to open, green fields descending from the apex of a small hill. Beyond the fields, at the base of the hill, is a village. Clusters of small homes huddle on the outskirts, while a marketplace and lush gardens fill the center. A river runs through the gardens and a grand, gated residence nestles in the southeast corner.
“That’s our first stop,” Kyoko says, pointing to the marketplace at the center of the village. “We can find a current map there.”
Rafael looks up at the position of the suns. “It’s still early. Perhaps we should advance to the next village before we stop.”
“That wasn’t a question, Rafael.”
Kyoko steps forward down the hill toward the village. Rafael’s behavior has destroyed any potential for partnership. He forfeited his right to be included in decisions when he allowed his disrespectful thoughts to roam freely from his tongue. Kyoko vows to remind him that he will respect her as an outranking Librarian.
The architecture within the village is an unpredictable mix of modern edifices, made of metal and glass, and ancient stone structures with wide columns and sculptures of prominent figures from Doruh mythology. One such sculpture, the largest and most intricate, sits high on a pedestal right at the entrance of the village. It depicts a mother cradling two newborn infants to her chest, each suckling one of her breasts.
The sculpture fascinates Kyoko, stopping her in her tracks when she notices something peculiar: the mother has pointed ears, while the infants do not. The mother has no pupils in her eyes, while the infants do.
“Is everything alright?” comes Rafael’s voice next to her.
“Yes, sorry,” she says, keeping her eyes on the sculpture. “I noticed something unusual.”
“So did I,” Rafael responds. “Is this a CereCenter?”
Kyoko breaks her focus on the sculpture to turn to Rafael. “I don’t think so. Why?”
He gestures to the locals around them. At least a third of the population is wearing red linen tunics.
A Mega Educator walks by them and Kyoko taps his shoulder. The Librarian stops and turns to them, taking in their yellow silk tunics. He nods respectfully. “Welcome to Adera, Ambassadors.”
“Is this a CereCenter?” Kyoko asks.
The red-clad Librarian shakes his head. “Adera is not a CereCenter, no. But there are three not far from here, so Adera’s inns remain occupied throughout the academic season.”
“That explains it,” Rafael says.
“Can you tell me about this sculpture?” Kyoko questions quickly before the Educator can walk away. “Who is this?”
The Educator raises an eyebrow. “That’s Adera, of course. The one for whom this village is named.”
“But why is she feeding those Doruh infants?”
“You’re not well-read on Doruh mythology, are you, Ambassador?” the Educator questions with a snarky chuckle. Kyoko’s cheeks glow red. He continues, “The infants are the Twins. The Doruh deities. Adera was their pixie mother.”
Kyoko shackles her next questions, in fear of sounding ignorant, allowing the Educator to continue on his way.
“I didn’t know any of that either,” Rafael remarks, his tone sympathetic. It’s a jarring switch from the coldness he’s presented thus far.
Kyoko stiffens, unsure how to react. She ignores the remark and suggests they continue to the marketplace. They deftly slip through the crowds and find the map merchant a few stalls in. The old Doruh man boasts about his inventory, claiming to have any and all maps.
From the corner of her eye, Kyoko notices additional wares in the merchant’s stall, behind the counters.
“Can I look through some of those items?” she asks the merchant.
He shrugs. “If you’d like to. There’s nothing of value. Just some artifacts from the human war, left behind by their soldiers.”
Kyoko turns to Rafael. “Find the map we need.”
He nods and quietly accepts the order. While the merchant lays out a number of maps before Rafael, Kyoko walks behind the counter and examines some of the items in the merchant’s inventory.
This isn’t an artifact, Kyoko thinks when she finds a tanto, a traditional igni dagger often carried by EverEmber’s warriors. She turns it around in her hands and assesses the keen blade, the solid hilt.
Kyoko removes a handful of stones from her pouch and places them onto the counter. “For the map and the tanto.”
The merchant collects the stones, packages the map Rafael selected, and hands it to her. With a patronizing sneer he asks, “Can you handle a blade like that, young lady? Don’t lose a finger.” He turns to Rafael, hoping for reinforcement, but the mari remains stone-faced.
Thank you, Rafael, she thinks, earnestly.
“I would demonstrate, but then you’d lose a finger,” Kyoko rebukes. The merchant’s smirk dissolves and he turns away to help other customers.
They continue through the marketplace until they reach a narrow street with far fewer patrons and a row of eateries. Rafael’s eyes shift from one window to the next and Kyoko hears his stomach begin to roar.
“We should have something to eat before we continue our journey,” she says.
“That’s a good idea,” Rafael replies, nodding sheepishly. “Where would you like to—”
Before the words fall from his lips, a thin, young Doruh man steps up behind him and slips his fingers into the Librarian’s pocket.
Rafael’s sharp reflexes turn him quickly around, reaching for the man’s wrist, but the pickpocket slips from his grasp and weasels through the crowd. The Librarian drops his travel bag and runs off after the thief with nothing but his bow.
Kyoko tightens the strap of her own sack and launches into the crowd behind them.
The pickpocket and pursuing Librarians slip through residents like smooth pebbles through streamwater.
Stop running, Rafael. A few stones aren’t worth this.
The mari remains a few feet ahead of her, occasionally closing the gap between him and the thief, then falling behind again. The pickpocket reaches a footbridge over the river that runs through the village. He places the top of the pouch between his teeth, pulls off his shirt, and shifts into a hawk. His clothes fall to the ground as he soars into the air, Rafael’s pouch dangling from his beak.
Rafael comes to a halt when the hawk rises into the sky. He drops onto a knee, holding the bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Kyoko blinks in disbelief; the arrow appears in his hand out of empty air.
“Rafael, stop!” she exclaims when she reaches her subordinate.
“I need that pouch,” he responds, his eyeline sharp against the arrow, focused on the rising hawk.
“That’s an order, Rafael! No amount of stones is worth potentially murdering a villager, even if he is a thief.”
She watches his shoulders relax as he hesitates, but then he resumes his aim and repeats, “I need that pouch. I’m sorry, Kyoko.”
The arrow cuts quickly through the air until it reaches the hawk, and the arrowhead slices through the pouch, just under the beak. Kyoko’s heart sinks like stone when the hawk begins to spiral downward.
No, no, no. He killed someone.
Before it hits the ground, the hawk shakes its head and resumes its flight, up and away from the village. Kyoko breathes a sigh of relief before realizing the pouch is dropping toward the river.
“It’ll be lost to the current,” she says.
“No, it won’t.” Rafael pulls the bow back onto his shoulder and lunges onto the footbridge.
“Rafael, wait!” Kyoko calls to him, as she grabs at the neckline of his tunic. He slips through her fingers and continues forward, launching himself into the air, over the rail at the edge of the footbridge. He meets the pouch above the water, catches it, and cradles it to his chest as he plunges below the surface of the raging river.
A knot develops in the pit of Kyoko’s gut as she reaches the railing and peers over it. Tense silence envelops the crowd forming around her, waiting for Rafael to appear. She sees a thin wisp of red where Rafael landed, and sweat breaks out on her forehead.
Come on, Rafael, you’re mari. You live in water.
Finally, he pops up out of the river, holding the pouch in his hand above his head. He swims quickly and masterfully to the riverbank, where Kyoko meets him and helps him up. He’s filthy, and his tunic is torn at the shoulder, revealing a bloody gash.
“Are you alright?” Kyoko asks him, gesturing to the wound.
He takes a deep breath and nods. “The river wasn’t as deep as it looked. But I’m fine.”
“It could’ve been worse. You could’ve hurt someone. All for a few stones. Not only was this unwise, you directly disobeyed my orders.” She realizes that with every sentence, her tone grows less concerned and more admonishing.
Rafael opens his mouth to respond, but something over Kyoko’s shoulder catches his eye. “Is that a bison?”
Kyoko turns around and sees the large ungulate bounding through the colorful lanes of the gardens, heading toward them. “It is.”
The violent rattling of its hooves against the ground slows until it comes to a halt at the riverbank. It shifts and takes the form of a woman in her early forties.
“I almost didn’t believe it,” she says, “when they told me there were Ambassadors in my village running wildly through the streets.”
“I was pickpocketed,” Rafael responds. Kyoko narrows her eyes to encourage him to remain quiet as she speaks to the Doruh.
“We didn’t intend to cause a spectacle,” she says, apologetically.
“The spectacle is the least of my concerns, Ambassador.” The woman’s tone is stern. “It’s highly irregular for new Librarians to arrive without notifying the Headwoman first. Had you followed your protocol, we could’ve prevented all of this.”
Kyoko tries to hide her embarrassment. The woman is correct; Alba often visited political leaders before exploring any new territory. Kyoko should have remembered to do the same.
“I apologize, Headwoman, but we—”
The woman shakes her head. “Not me. My grandmother is the Headwoman. I have to insist that you come to meet with her and discuss”—she gestures to the dripping wound on Rafael’s shoulder—“exigent matters.”
Kyoko realizes what she means. The Librarians’ safety and protection are the leadership’s responsibility as soon as they step foot into the village. Any violation of that responsibility could be considered an intracontinental crime.
But Kyoko doesn’t desire any political outcomes from this incident. Not only would it raise questions as to why the Headwoman wasn’t contacted in the first place, it would blow a simple matter into something it doesn’t have to be, and provide the Prime further reason to despise her.
“We aren’t going to report this back to the Library,” she says to the village leader. The woman waits, hesitantly, expecting Kyoko to offer some explanation as to why she’s being so merciful. Kyoko pauses, struggling to find a reason without admitting to her culpability.
Rafael stands. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have jumped into the river. You aren’t responsible for my injury; there’s been no violation of my immunity.”
The woman’s body frees some of its tension. She continues, “Regardless, I must still insist you come meet with the Headwoman. And our salvers can heal you.”
“I don’t need salvers,” Rafael says. “I just need water. If I jump back into the river for a while, my body will heal itself.”
At “jump back into the river,” Kyoko’s heart thumps faster. “No. We’ll come with you to see the Headwoman.”