"It's day three hundred twenty-one since the battle of Sllaar was won by the invincible forces of Pompeii. We managed to push them back into their own puny country. Ever since the glorious victory under King Ranira, the kingdom is thriving. Almost a year has passed since any soldier had to pick up their weapon. The days of Pompeii go by with peace, and its nights come in quiet. An air of uneasy calm flows through the tranquility of the kingdom, and with every moment passing, it crawls over me as well."
Armis's curiosity turned to desperation as the entries reflected the ominous emotions Thaddeus might have felt. The unease and dread in his words tugged at Armis's heart as he flipped more pages, the crackling overshadowed by his voice:
"It's been forty days since I have gone out for my daily patrol. The absence of any evil or threat should fill me with tranquility, but as I stay cooped inside my chamber, doing nothing but read and sleep, I feel a strange sense of relief. It tells me that my presence, my existence, is no longer required by this kingdom, and I feel content with it. Is it true, or has the lack of opposition turned my heart against my mind?"
Emotions of disgust and alienation should have filled Armis's heart, but instead, his dread resonated with the growing lethargy of Lord Thaddeus. This lethargy became more pronounced in the journal entries, which spoke increasingly about books, activities, and war strategies Thaddeus had read, undertaken, or designed in his isolation.
"I have failed my kingdom. My sloth, my lack of motivation, and failed foresight didn't see the lurking threat. Pompeii is in danger because of my undoing. But why only me? Those two are equally responsible for this disaster as well. I may have failed to keep guard against the approaching enemy, but they should have seen the signs too."
Armis's quieting voice rose again as he stumbled upon this admission of failure. Thaddeus held his sloth and abandonment of duties responsible, and Armis read on, discovering how Pompeii's old enemies exploited Thaddeus's isolation. The price was paid by the innocent citizens when a terrible disease struck, threatening the survival of the population and the civilization itself.
Armis's eyes moved quickly through the journal, flipping through years condensed into a few dozen pages, until his shivering gaze and restless heart calmed into a smile when he reached the end:
"The darkest hour finally ended. We were sure that Pluto had knocked on the kingdom's gate. But Lord Jupiter had never left my side. Moments of lethargy and idle thoughts rescued the kingdom from the verge of extinction. The strategies and training I had devised in my sloth, though costing us the lives of a few hundred, not only restored the kingdom's former glory but also chased the enemy back to their lair. Alone, the untapped strength within me preserved the tranquility of Pompeii for centuries to come."
Armis smiled as he closed the journal and placed it back on the desk. He took another look around the chamber, feeling only admiration. The new perspective on lethargy filled him with a strange pride for Lord Thaddeus. Moving towards the helm hung on the wall, Armis took it in his hands, filled with admiration. A heavy sigh escaped his lungs as a yawn, and with a final look around the chamber, he searched for what he had initially entered for. But his feet didn't bother with a deep search; instead, lethargy guided him towards the door.
With a soft smile and conviction-filled, drooping eyes, Armis looked at the helm and spoke as he opened the gate back to the veranda. His words overshadowed the creak of the door:
"Well, I guess a little rest never hurt anybody."
—thud—
—thud—
Alan quickly slammed the door behind him, as darkness greeted his eyes for a moment before the room filled with bright illumination and the faint scent of lavender.
"Well, that is interesting…" Alan remarked as his eyes scanned the room with rising amazement. The tall bookshelves inside covered every inch of the grey walls.
Just beside a small bed with violet sheets and drapes was a large ornate desk, in the middle of which sat a large sundial and a mirror reflecting frescoes and mosaics of stars and celestial bodies etched upon the black-painted ceiling.
His drooping eyes opened wide in fascination, and curiosity guided his limbs forward. Alan looked around at the scrolls and parchment scattered around the sundial. Though the words of the texts seemed unfamiliar to him, the caricatures and diagrams resembled the astronomy taught in his home country. The structure of the room, the tall shelves, and the abundance of books nostalgically reminded Alan of the library at the institute in the Kingdom of Rir.
Each corner of the chamber, along with the scent of lavender, exuded an intellectual atmosphere.
A curious smile appeared on his face, his fleeting lethargy giving way to his natural instinct as a Sicarius. Alan began removing books from the shelves, his excited eyes scanning through flipping pages before he tossed them onto the bed.
The knowledge he read and understood filled him with strange satisfaction. After glimpsing through more than ten books, Alan waltzed towards the bed. His smile held no caution or dread, only the joy of finding himself in a sanctuary of his kind. He happily murmured under his breath, "Oh, Mr. Caelum, why didn't I find you before? You would have saved me so much trouble."
As Alan was about to lie down, reaching for one of the books to immerse himself in, his eyes fell on a small table beside the bed. Upon it lay a leather-bound binder. The sophistication in its binding attracted his attention. He picked up the binder and, keeping it straight on his abdomen, took the support of the bedside and began flipping through the rough yet light pages of the leather binder.
"Oh... it's a journal," Alan mumbled, quickly reading through the first few pages. They contained entries from the scholar astronomer, inscribing his feelings and important events of Caelum's life etched upon the beige paper.
As Alan read through the personal information, his eyes grew focused. His inner voice began seeping out of his lips when, amidst the phenomena of astronomy and the guidance of the stars, an unease appeared in Caelum's words:
"Stars have always told me the fate of the kingdom; they have guided us to prosperity, they have filled the rule of Ranira with peace. But I grow anxious, as ever since the glorious victory over Sllaar, the celestial beings have fallen silent. No guidance apart from the constant glory of the kingdom appears in the unsaid of the stars. Their silence makes me wary; the mundane mystic has brought sloth into my rituals, and it makes me wonder, would something ominous escape my sight if I leave the cosmos for a day?"
Alan's heart resonated with the unease in Caelum's words, but content filled his heart when he thought of Caelum's contemplation. Somewhere amidst the reading, Alan's heart cheered for Caelum's rising interest in the world below the sky he gazed upon. Alan's lips read through the flipping pages of the journal:
"A cycle of the moon has passed, I think, since I last gazed above. Nowadays, the curiosity of my eyes seeks the world beyond this chamber. The stars have remained constant, but the spirit that used to gaze upon them has waned. It has been replaced by dreams that yearn for solace, which could only arrive from ventures that lie below the roof of this cosmos. I suppose the lethargy that clutches my heart does not hold any ill. I suppose I could give in to the curiosity that yearns for the control of this vessel of mine."
A contented smile appeared on Alan's face as he continuously flipped through the pages, reading the adventures that Caelum's lethargy had led him to when it strayed him from the goal that defined his character. It resonated with Alan; he felt a familiarity with the joy and satisfaction that Caelum expressed in his text. Then, the familiar dread also appeared in the upcoming entries.
"They have spoken! My sloth, this lethargy, got the best of me. The celestial, the stars must have yelled—they had cried about the rebellion—but in the reverie of my curiosity, I failed the kingdom. The liege is enraged with me. But why? Why should I bear the responsibility for this disaster alone? They! They held much more responsibility than I did. I did nothing wrong; I only yearned for the freedom that should have been mine from the beginning."
The contentment was crushed under the weight of dread that filled Alan from these words. Caelum's contemplation grew over Alan, flashes of what Alan wished to be surfacing before his eyes.
Desperation filled his eyes as he read about the disease that came as the revenge of Pompeii's enemies, spreading from within and threatening to rid the essence of life from Pompeii. Alan's fingers flipped through Caelum's journal, his heart that once cheered for Caelum now begging the text it resonated with for an end that did justice to the owner of the chamber and journal.
His fingers stopped as his eyes closed in on the text that turned his frown into a soft smile. Near the last pages of the journal appeared the redemption of Caelum's journey.
"What I missed with my open eyes, I saw when they remained closed, looking through the cosmos in the universe of my dreams. The stars and celestials spoke not only of what I had been blinded to but also of the cure for the disaster caused by my blindness. My idle body was filled with the energy it lacked while in movement. Lethargy may have let me down, but the visions, the guidance I received in my dreams from the stars, not only saved Pompeii but also ensured the benevolent roof of the cosmos above it for centuries to come."
His eyes closed with satisfaction, his content-filled hands closing the journal. A smile of resonated joy and wandering hope appeared on Alan's face. He stood up quietly, placing the journal properly on the table. He collected all the books he had littered on the bed and one by one, placed them back in their respective places. Taking in the atmosphere of the chamber once again, Alan looked up at the frescoes of the cosmos and softly mumbled,
"Well, contemplation is important before action. I guess that's why we came here. This chamber, this floor, is the epitome of contemplation for this hellish journey…"
He closed his eyes once more, taking in a deep sigh that came out as a weary yawn. Alan moved toward the door he had entered through. He turned back for a final look, making sure there was no other way ahead in the intellectual tranquility of the astrologer's chamber before exiting, slamming the door shut behind him.
——Thud!—-
——Thuddddd——
Fascination never left Relecta's face as she took in the view of the chamber before her. The thud of the closing door sounded distant, almost numb to her ears, while a humming music seemed to ring softly around her. Though she couldn't pinpoint the source of the sound, the beautiful rose drapes and sheets covering the large bed in the middle of the chamber caught her eye, drawing her forward. A distant need for rest pulled her toward the cushioned comfort waiting for her.
Climbing cautiously onto the bed, she spread her body across it, her face losing all traces of tension and emotion, replaced by a smile of pure relief. The enchanting fragrance of roses filled the air, soothing her senses. Slowly, she opened her eyes, the silhouette of a shiny chandelier reflecting in them. A sense of calm repressed all her sadness and grief, burying unnecessary emotions deep inside. This serene feeling was mirrored when she turned and saw a small ornate table beside the bed, holding a beautiful hand mirror.
Coated in gold with a gem on top and intricate carvings, the mirror revealed her true heart when she picked it up. Her reflection showed no more sunken eyes or bloodshot lines—only the serenity of white. Her face appeared plump, soft, and shiny, with a pearly smile expressing the joy she felt in the chamber.
Her smile widened as she stood up from the bed, her gaze drawn to the giant portrait of Lady Aveline, the chamber's owner. Lady Aveline's deep eyes seemed to look straight into Relecta's, beckoning her closer.
An energy, a strange familiarity, emanated from the giant painting hung on the wall beside the illuminating torches. Lady Aveline's face, carved like marble, reflected the pain in her heart. As Relecta moved closer, her curled lips seemed to fade in color, the enchantment in her eyes turning to faint sadness, a pain vividly present in the lines of the portrait that Relecta gently traced with her fingers.
Turning away from the portrait, Relecta opened the closet beside it. Her interest sparked as she admired the grandeur of regal and beautiful attire inside.
Taking out a dress and draping it over her body, she looked at herself in the large ornate mirror beside the closet, finding the clothes almost her size. A smile of momentary joy appeared on her face as she began to open the buttons to try the dress on. But then the uneasy, sad atmosphere of the rose-scented chamber grew over her. Her fingers recognized the pristine, unworn condition of the fabric. She glanced once more in the mirror. This time, instead of admiring the beauty of the fabric, she saw its sorrow.
"Why would someone not wear you? You are so… beautiful…" Relecta mumbled, gazing at the reflection of the attire in the mirror, as though expecting it to reveal its sadness to her in the next moment.
Nothing happened as Relecta closed the dress and began putting it back inside the closet. As she started to shut the closet doors, her curiosity was sparked once more by a small, beautiful box adorned with gold carvings and topped with a giant ruby.
The decoration of the wooden box resembled the mirror that had reflected Relecta's earlier smile. The box evoked a similar emotion, reminding her of a box her grandmother used to keep hidden letters from Relecta's parents. It was a bittersweet memory that nonetheless filled Relecta with curiosity.
She moved to the bed, crossing her legs on the soft mattress, and placed the box on her lap. Her gaze was fixed, her heart filled with a strange hope as she unlocked the ornate box.
Her eyes gleamed with fascination when she found a bundle of letters tied together with a red silk ribbon. With awe, Relecta untangled the ribbon, letting the aged papers scatter on her lap. These were the long-unread memories of Lady Aveline, now finding their reader in Relecta.
She unfolded the first letter, her eyes moving over the words:
"My Dear Aveline, my eyes have become sore from your absence. I await your return to the court; it feels empty without you. I have talked to the prince, and he has agreed to reward you with the position of royal advisor upon your return. Oh, my love, not only have these eyes but also these lips missed your touch. Please return soon, my love; my heart awaits you.
Your love, Liora."
Her voice echoed softly in the chamber, the sorrow of the fragrant air replacing the pulsing amusement that had earlier sparkled in Relecta's eyes and on her lips.
She eagerly picked up another letter, reading it with the same amusement. She smirked and smiled, joy reflected in the letters to Aveline, written by Liora, describing their forbidden love—a love that hid, struggled, and always prevailed. The letters told of a love that started in their early years and ripened with time. Despite the distance in their ages, neither felt any gap in their affection. They loved, laughed, and dreamed together until a letter halted Relecta's giggles. It left her mouth agape, her eyes wide. The words of the letter reflected sorrow and pain, echoing in her voice:
"Oh my love, oh my Aveline, something terrible has befallen our love. My liege has gifted my hand to the king of Pompeii. But please, do not despair. Even in such hard times, our love has found a way to grow. I have asked my liege to send you as my advisor in Pompeii; you shall have the same duties there. I cannot promise the days ahead will not be harsh, but have faith. I will suffer just as you, but endure it, my love, for Minerva herself watches over our love."
Relecta's voice grew quieter and quieter as letter by letter, word after word, explained the struggles, pain, and suffering endured by the forbidden love of Aveline and Liora. From the alliance wedding and difficulties in finding moments for each other to the unspoken horrors that compelled Liora to hide the sacred bond of her heart with Aveline, while Aveline could only watch, fulfilling her duties as her lover suffered.
Shallow streams of tears dripped from Relecta's eyes. She lay down, trying in vain to wipe the tears that continued to flow as she picked up another sorrowful letter from Liora, her urges seeping through Relecta's mouth:
"Oh dear Aveline, I was assured that in this life I would not feel the loving touch of your skin, that the warmth of your lips would be lost to mine. I was assured that this was the end of our sacred bond, but once again, Goddess Minerva performs miracles. For two days, the King shall reside in the temple of Jupiter. For two days, our love shall bloom. For two days, you and I shall be united as one, just as in the old days. So I urge you, my love, come, come and quench the thirst of this vessel of mine."
Relecta's tears flowed freely now, her heart aching for the lovers whose words had found her.
What began as sorrow filled Relecta again with glee. Amidst her tears, a smile appeared, shining brighter than the chandelier's reflection, but it quickly faded as she unfolded the next letter. This one was not from Liora; it was to Liora:
"Liora my love, I have failed us. I have failed our love. The days that united us, the memories, the sensations we shared, have lingered in my heart day and night. Each moment, I imagined, prayed, and conspired for something so loving and sacred to happen again. Nights began with wishes and desires that became dreams, which cast a veil of slumber over my eyes even during the day. This yearning pushed me into sloth; no longer was I fulfilling the duties you had brought me for. This love, this bond of ours, has sent me into lethargy. The negligence born from this has cost us dearly. The newly forming alliance with Sllaar has crumbled.
My heart fights me, refusing to believe that only I bear the blame for the peril our kingdom might face in the future. It tells me that they should have known too. They hold equal responsibility; their duties require the same foresight. But deep down, it is also aware that it beats inside the body of a woman, and I am certain that once our liege becomes aware, he will also find out of our love. My eyes, this heart where you reside, are too fragile to bear witness to the horror that would come upon you and me from this error. So please forgive me, as it pains me deeply to leave you alone in this suffering. Stay strong, my love. If Minerva wills it, we shall meet again.
Your love, Aveline."
A sudden surge of emotions—grief, sorrow, and a flood of sadness—burst into Relecta's heart. She snapped upright on the bed, her eyes moistened once again. Her desperate hands ruffled through the litter of crackling paper, picking up each letter and frantically searching for the one her heart cried out for. She hoped for a letter that should exist. Wheezing groans of sorrow begged and pleaded that what she had just read couldn't be the final letter, the last exchange of the forbidden love between Liora and Aveline.
Her dreading heart turned the sense of familiarity against her, triggering horrific flashes of her past: separation from her parents, her kittens, and Alan. All the memories Relecta had suppressed deep within her heart spiraled out of her mind like a torrent. Desperation made her jump from the bed. She lunged at the silent, monotone portrait of Aveline, sorrow echoing in her voice as she yelled,
"Why?!!! Why would you leave her alone?!! Come back!!!! Come back!!! To her!!! Come back to m—"
Disgust filled her eyes as she looked into Aveline's deep eyes, which now seemed like every other pair of eyes from Relecta's past that hadn't bothered to look back before abandoning her—whether through greed, disgust, anger, or even death. Dread filled her limbs and shook the wall, causing each scribbled line of the portrait to shiver with her heart. Then it all halted when the shaking caricature materialized Relecta's desire. A letter, folded with dust and age, fell from behind the portrait.
She wasted no time. Relecta picked up the letter, and a faint hope glimmered in her eyes. Expectation gleamed as she finally read aloud the words she had longed for:
"Oh my dear Aveline, I do not write to question what certainly pained as a betrayal, but to deliver news. What you cursed as leisure—the sloth, the lethargy that raised hopes in your heart and that you blamed for your lack of foresight, the cause of your departure—it had helped just as much as you would have. Your insights, the bond you had formed, and the act of your leaving, now branded as your sacrifice, had managed to show the way towards a solution for this peril. Pompeii has survived and now awaits your return. Please, my love, return to my embrace. I urge you, and I pray to Goddess Minerva for your healthy return.
Your beloved, Liora."
Relecta's tears transformed from sorrow to salvation as the words in the letter spoke of the survival of the forbidden love between Aveline and Liora. Her heart filled with hope. She wiped away her tears, folded the letter, and carefully bundled each letter back together, tying them with the silk thread. She placed the bundle in the box, which she set back on the table beside the bed. Her smiling reflection appeared in the beautiful mirror before she placed it beside the box.
Relecta readjusted the portrait of Lady Aveline. The portrait now symbolized the survival and salvation of a love that resonated deeply with Relecta. She felt utmost respect and admiration for it. After a heavy sigh and a deep yawn, a soothing lethargy guided her feet toward the chamber's door. It opened with a creak, overshadowed by her glance back into the chamber. With a twinkling smile, she spoke,
"I will never give up. Just like you."
Her words hung in the scented air as she stepped out, leaving behind the thud of the slamming door.
—-thudd!!—-
—-thudd!!—-
—-thudd!!—-
As all three of them reentered the regal air of the veranda, they carried similar fulfillment in their smiles. No trace of concern, horror, dread, despair, or suffering remained on their faces, which had been plagued by those emotions when they first entered this floor. They exchanged glances in a soothing silence until Alan spoke, his smile reflecting a newfound peace,
"So, did you find anything?" Alan asked, looking at Armis and Relecta.
"Yes," Relecta replied, walking slowly towards Alan, her gaze lovingly meeting his confused eyes. She embraced him warmly and continued, "I found myself."
"So, this place is for self-contemplation, I suppose," Alan mused, but before his words could fully sink in, Armis stepped forward. His tone started smug, but as he continued, draping his arm around Alan, a profoundness emerged.
"About time you understood that. It's the very soul of Relic Castle rewarding us for all the hardships we've endured while still moving forward."
"Well, we still haven't found a way to move ahead," Alan said, concern creasing his face as he looked around the veranda.
"Alan!" Armis stepped back from Alan and Relecta, his tone rising, tinged with disappointment as he addressed their confused expressions. "You still don't get it? This place wants us to sleep."
"Huh?" Alan gasped in confusion, but as Armis continued, the profoundness of his words began to make sense to Alan and Relecta.
"We have to sleep on our problems and wait for them to solve themselves."
"Oh, you mean if we sleep now, when we wake up, we'll find the next gate right before our eyes, and we won't even have to do anything," Alan said, the excitement of realization spreading across his face and to Relecta as well. She quickly lay down, tapping the ground beside her and inviting Alan to rest alongside her.
"Yes, darling. That's why we shouldn't waste any time. Come on."
Alan looked at Armis, both feeling an air of strangeness around them, but the lethargic realization gripped their bodies, leading them away from rationality. They exchanged smiles and nods before they too lay down, getting comfortable on the ground beside each other. They exchanged smiles once more before falling into a deep slumber. Darkness enveloped every brick of the veranda around them until nothing but a soothing hum remained in their drifting minds.