The Farm Workers' Quiet Pride

The short words hung between them, yet the old man heard them not. “Fine. It is done. Having seen the child… go.” The old man lifted the wood carving once more. The conversation was over. Arkin opened his mouth as if he still had words to say, only to close it again and again, finally saying nothing. “Was there… any further message you wished to convey?” The father spoke carefully, but the old man had already returned his gaze to the carving. The only sound was the steady scrape of the blade. The father bowed deeply. “Then we shall take our leave. Rest well, Grandfather.” As they were led from the hut by the father’s hand, Arkin stole one last look back into the dim interior. The great-grandfather hunched before the hearth, absorbed in his carving, as if the visitors had never been there at all.

Once they had walked some distance from the hut, the father’s step grew noticeably lighter. A sigh of relief softened the tension in his face, and he patted Arkin’s shoulder repeatedly, unable to hide his excitement. “Ah, it is good! It is good! Grandfather accepted you. He said nothing, but that meant he did not oppose it. He acknowledged that our Arkin will become king!” The father continued muttering in the voice of someone who had just passed a great trial. Yet in one corner of young Arkin’s heart, the words Grandfather had left behind lingered for a long time. “Ambition.”

Not far from the memorial tree stood the Crystal Cave. Seneca led the way, parting the bushes, and the trainees followed in a line. The cave entrance was dark and narrow, barely wide enough for one person to slip through sideways. “Be careful. The floor is slippery.” Following Seneca’s warning, several trainees braced the walls and moved with caution. At first they felt trapped in pitch darkness, but their eyes slowly adjusted. Deeper into the cave the faint red glow grew stronger, illuminating their path. “A little further and we will arrive.” As they walked single file through the narrow passage, the space suddenly opened wide. The unexpected expanse proved surprisingly cozy and spacious, and gasps of wonder rose from every side. “Whoa.” “Beautiful.” The trainees stared in open admiration. Those who had followed them in raised their heads to gaze at the ceiling in open-mouthed astonishment. Countless red crystals, reflecting soft light from the walls and ceiling, crowded every surface, bathing them in radiance like gems inside a treasure chest. “Oh no, I’m going to cry.” Princess Amalfi of Floria dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief again and again, her emotions too stirred. “If someone falls in love here in such a beautiful place… it would truly be wonderful…” Arkin stepped aside to avoid the princess’s passionate gaze. The floor was unexpectedly soft earth beneath the firm crystal walls, making the space even cozier. “In the past, before the temple was built, those who came to Credo Island for peace talks used this cave as a lodging. There was a clear spring inside, and the ceiling allowed good airflow. It must have been perfect.” Seneca pointed to a spot in one corner where a small hole let in a shaft of light that illuminated a crystal-clear spring below. “To me it seems ideal for sneaking away to fall in love. And the floor is quite soft too.” Zafiri chuckled and tapped the soft earth with the tip of his boot. The group exited the cave and continued around the path, passing close to the temple once more. A sight they had never seen before greeted them. On the steep hillside, workers with baskets slung over their hips carefully plucked leaves, while men driving plows moved steadily across the fields. Young servants carrying water pails also caught the eye. Every so often laughter floated on the breeze. “These are the tasks you will each perform yourselves. Part of the humility training…” A murmur rose among the trainees. Several stared at the workers in disbelief. “Training competition? You’re not going to use them as servants, are you?” Draconis sneered mockingly, but Seneca simply snorted and picked his nose. “Servants? Pick a bunch of useless, disobedient brats like you and what would we do with them?” “That crazy—” Draconis opened his mouth in astonishment, but Seneca strode ahead as if he had nothing more to say. The royal was so enjoying the mockery that he even hummed a tune. “If it had been Voltrion, we would have beaten them black and blue. As expected, so insolent.” Kaichen panted up the steep hill, grumbling. Arkin watched the priest with a puzzled tilt of his head. Was he really a priest? The casual, almost delinquent attitude felt far more like a wandering monk than a man training at the temple. But thinking it over, Seneca was not the only one. Titus was the same, and the priestess Tilly assigned to the princesses spoke and acted with unusual freedom. Perhaps this was simply the freedom found in the neutral zone. Arkin supposed the workers shared the same relaxed air. They occasionally glanced up at the princes and princesses’ commotion, yet soon returned to their own tasks with untroubled focus. When they met individually they remained courteous, but there was no sense of being forced to bow or serve the royal family; their own work mattered more.

“Say, about Draconis.” Petra, walking nearby, gave Arkin and Elio a sidelong smile. “He looks like such a loser. He’s been picking fights nonstop just to force a fight, but he can’t say anything because of Seneca’s size.” Arkin chuckled. With hands like those frying pans, he supposed anyone would feel the same. After several training competitions he had probably come to the conclusion that sturdy priests were the best at handling willful royalty.

On the broad plain midway up the mountain stood a large chariot racecourse. “Chariot racing! The day has come when I can show off the lightning chariot Mother entrusted to me. Prepare to be amazed!” Kaichen’s white hair stood on end as he shouted wildly. Arkin’s gaze drifted toward Draconis, whose eyes gleamed bright red. He felt like hurling a few words at the other prince, but Draconis stared at the vast field for a long moment, then suddenly turned and walked away. His flame-red hair swung in the breeze, leaving the hilltop for some time.

“Now, let me show you the path on the opposite side of the hill.” Seneca pointed to the other trail. At the end of the gentle slope toward the sea waited a wide, cool expanse of deep-blue ocean. “On days off you may descend this way for a swim. The temperature is perfect and the waves are gentle; we use it often ourselves.” The priest added briefly, then led them up the hill once more. As he gestured toward the stone path climbing upward, he explained that this trail led to the sacred shrine at the cliff’s edge, where the blue roof of the temple awaited. Behind them a small commotion broke out, and everyone turned to look. Nefetia, walking with Stella, called out brightly. “Seneca, what is this flower called?” She pointed to the bright yellow blooms lining the path on both sides. They resembled common wildflowers, small and delicate. “That? Moonflowers.” Seneca raised an eyebrow. “You know them? They don’t grow in Kepet.” “Mother loved them. In Kepet I could only see dried petals, but seeing them blooming by the roadside like this… it was surprising.” Nefetia bent at the waist and gently reached out to touch a petal. The yellow leaf trembled slightly. The moonflower was small and fragile. Five bright yellow petals formed a star shape around a faint orange center. Its stem was slender, swaying with every breeze, while tiny leaves clustered closely along its length. Arkin looked at the flower too. It was no ordinary mushroom, yet he knew little of botany and felt no great emotion. The sight of Nefetia’s sparkling eyes and delighted smile filled his vision. Watching her small hand carefully examine the delicate stem of the yellow bloom was simply lovely.