Tea for Four
Reiwa 2 August 6
Sitting around the round (actually square) table, Minato and dozens of other ministers and high-ranking officials listened to one of the almost a hundred aides, the latter of whom sat along the wooden wall panelings of the conference room.
"... apologize, but the Japan Medical Association regrettably reports that the procurement of ventilators has proceeded… slower than expected. Projections for the full Q3 figures might have to be downwardly adjusted to 3,000, from the originally planned 5,000 figure."
Several sighs and quiet grumbles were heard as these news were processed.
The Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry addressed the Minister of Health, Labour, and Welfare: "It was my understanding, Imagawa-san, that the health ministry had assured us that the screening process had been streamlined to meet the target figure. It seems I was mistaken."
If Imagawa was inwardly bristling, he did not show it. "There are problems on the supply side that have nothing to do with regulatory hurdles or red tape, at least on our part, Noguchi-san," he answered calmly. "It is simply a matter of us losing—and I'm sure you've all heard it a hundred times before—all foreign suppliers of ventilators, and ECMO machines, and reagents, and protective equipment, and all other things we need. And our domestic producers were dependent on foreign suppliers for components and other parts. So the whole supply system was disrupted. As Minister of Economy, I'm sure you are well aware of this, Noguchi-san."
"At this rate… we can expect another five thousand deaths with the second wave that's now appearing," another official muttered. "We are not at all prepared." And then other officials started participating in the gloomy discussion, some speaking past each other and out of turn:
"Our stock is more than adequate, the doomsday forecasts of "the second wave" are likely way overblown anyway!"
"Really? We thought for so long that we had finally "flattened the curve", but now the number of new cases are once again rising… by 1.7 percent just yesterday! That's one thousand five hundred! R0 exceeding one for a month. Will this ever stop? Is the rest of the G7 on... Earth handling it any better?"
"Of course they are!" said a journalist whom Minato recognized as a main critic against their COVID-19 response. "Unlike Japan, America and Europe and China and others were enforcing actual lockdowns and restricting the movement of their people, as I've said many times. They were able to place restrictions on people from leaving their homes and meeting others. Actual social distancing. But apparently, as we're repeatedly being told, our constitution prevents us from doing that because of civil rights concerns and we are relying on voluntary compliance!"
"—can't be worse than Italy—"
"—retrospective contact tracing, the three C's, a lot more than you are claiming—"
"—approaches in the West and China are too draconian and authoritarian—"
"—they probably finished phase II trials by now—"
"... why is a journalist interrupting in-meeting?"
"It can't be helped," said an unnamed official. "We must adhere to the constitution or lose sense of who we are. Especially with the recent regrettable transgressions on our freedoms and rights committed by this cabinet because of the state of emergency."
Imagawa then added to the discussion: "The real worry at the present is not COVID-19—which has little impact on all-cause mortality right now—, but the shortage of pharmaceuticals in general. Our pharmaceutical companies continue to do what they can to ramp up production, but since we used to import most of what we consumed… Along with the fact that hospitals are at capacity… And the food shortages certainly don't help.
Minato could see from Imagawa's apprehensive trademark expression that he was holding back on the bad news. "What's the health ministry's assessment?" Minato asked.
"The actual report is embargoed until next Monday, but the headline findings are that Japan's life expectancy could fall by up to three years, under the high excess mortality scenario—mostly due to the transfer than due to the COVID-19. I apologize for the news, Takahashi-shushou."
A quiet filled the conference room.
"If there is nothing more to say on this, shall we move on to other topics?" asked Minato. He glanced at the close to a hundred aides sitting by walls around them, most of them busy scribbling on their notes and laptops—which they also used to monitor the constant flow of information and manage communications with other cabinet and ministry staff and various authorities. Outside this room, thousands of cabinet staffers were present in the building, overseeing the various functionings of the Kantei.
Assents were heard and seen from the officials around the table, and a little while later the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries spoke up: "The Governor of Hokkaido confirms that fish catches in the Hokkaido Prefecture remain at near record levels, consistent with the reports we have from other prefectures. At this rate, we are catching double of what we did last year, or about ten million tons annualized. Perhaps it is too early to conclude, but it seems that the availability of fish surrounding our country really has improved."
"Good thing this world is bountiful in fish, at least," someone remarked. "Just be sure our fishing ships don't fall into any troublesome whirlpools. By the way, are there any other whirlpools that are millions of times more massive than those on Earth, like the recently discovered one by the eastern continent?"
A representative from JAXA answered: "Our satellites haven't picked up any other mega whirlpools, at least close to Japan."
"I see."
Then an official from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs said: "I'm sure many of you are already aware of this, but our first diplomatic and research expedition to the eastern lands has just landed without further complications, and has just made first contact with the locals."
"Yes, yes," Noguchi said dismissively. "More pertinently, I would like to discuss resuming volume production of integrated circuits to seventy percent of pre-transfer levels earlier than planned, as well as for certain consumer goods. The facts are that..." And the conversation turned to industry-related matters, on which Minato did not feel the need to add much. Rather, he was waiting for all the various topics on the agenda to be exhausted, before he would address the question that had been gnawing at him for a few days.
It was not just that he was personally curious where the funds earmarked for "discretionary spending" actually went. The Asahi Shimbun had started asking similar questions, and he had assured their reporters in a press conference two days ago that he would provide them with answers, just after this conference meeting in fact. He just hoped that the discretionary spending did not turn out to be a financial black hole…
Finally, after a thorough briefing and discussion on the merits of further biofuel subsidies to displace oil consumption, and as it seemed no one was sure what was next on the agenda, Minato initiated what he hoped was the final topic of the day: "The Asahi has been insisting on an answer to where the money spent on "discretionary spending" actually goes. I must confess that I myself am quite in the dark, as the responsibility for that spending item has been relegated to other officials. At any rate, could those knowledgeable on this matter give us a short briefing? We only have a few minutes left, unless we want to go overtime."
The room was silent for a few seconds, then the Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games chimed in somewhat reluctantly: "I guess I might have been responsible for where the money went…" He fell silent.
"... I see…" said Noguchi. "Well, I suppose I should admit I'm quite interested myself, since apparently one of the projects for JAXA under this spending required the procurement of several tons of reactor-grade plutonium, which fell under my ministry to provide."
Minato thought the air suddenly felt a lot colder. Then the Minister of the Environment said incredulously: "But our nuclear power plants generally don't use reactor-grade plutonium for fuel. They use uranium-235, 238, and sometimes MOX fuel, except for our only breeder reactor. I apologize, but someone may have ordered the wrong nuclear fuel."
The Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games did not speak for a while, as he seemed busy staring at the clock on the wall. Finally, he said: "The plutonium is not intended for our power plants."
At that moment, the door opened as one cabinet staffer walked in. "I'm sorry," the staffer said, "but the reporters at the Asahi insist that Takahashi-shushou holds the press conference on schedule. They insist on answers to where the discretionary spending actually went, which they say they were promised."
Compared to the hearty midday meal at the Glazing Poultry, the late evening meal at Jeod's mansion was somewhat lighter. Jeod still made sure to offer at least one meat dish at the table, to demonstrate his goodwill toward the two foreigners. Meat was a luxury and not often eaten by most commonfolk, but as long as they were under his roof, they would get to enjoy the taste of meat on a near daily basis. And to every main meal, they would also be offered white bread, another excess when compared to the brown or unleavened bread eaten by those of less wealth. He was, after all, only offering them the same amenities he himself had grown used to in Teirm.
They seemed to appreciate the food, but appeared to have a harder time swallowing their drinks.
Because Helen was still simmering in her private room, he had Rolf send for her meal. It was highly improper of her not to play the part of hostess and reflected badly on his honor and their family's as a whole, but he could not begrudge her.
After the meal—during which he kept receiving inquiries on the common language from Marie—Jeod handed both of them several cleaning twigs with which to clean their teeth, and then they parted separately from the table while Rolf routinely picked up their plates to have them washed, using water from their private well. Dousing kitchenware in water between meals was not common practise in most homes, but Jeod thought they would appreciate that given the importance they seemed to attach to cleanliness, and he himself liked to have his plates clean, something most people thought him finicky about. He had also shown them the glass mirror he owned, and was surprised by their lack of surprise at the device. Plenty of other people had jumped or otherwise reacted with befuddlement at seeing their own reflection on a surface that was not water, but the two had taken it all in stride. Perhaps they had encountered mirrors before?
Confining himself to the study, he started fumbling for a piece of parchment and quill on his desk. He had to hurry; the sun had already fallen beyond the horizon, and soon it would be too dark for him to see anything without straining his eyes, even with the candles alight. Normally he would never entertain writing missives in the dark, but he needed to inform the Varden of the recent developments as soon as possible. He wondered how much Lord Risthart had been able to figure out about the foreigners he had invited to his castle. From what Jeod knew, Risthart had at least one court magician among his servants. Would they attempt to probe the minds of the foreigners to unravel all there was to know?
The thought filled him with unease. Despite Risthart's erratic priorities, the governor was still loyal to the king. If the Empire had superior knowledge than the Varden and the elves regarding this new distant country, it would be yet another advantage for Galbatorix against his adversaries. Even more so should the Empire be the first in Alagaësia to open up relations with this distant country.
Fortunately, it did not take long to finish composing the missive. He quickly scurried through it:
Greetings, old friends. It is I, your primary well-wisher from Teirm. May you remain successful in your trying endeavors!
First, I would like to apologize for the lack of gifts you ought to have received from me in the past few months. There seem to have been some mishaps with the deliveries along the way. Perhaps your rivals have picked up on the trail and think it best to act disruptively?
Having said that, I would now like to offer some important news. Since today (which is a little more than three fortnights since the summer solstice) an unknown ship of a unique design docked at the ports of Teirm, and aboard it were more than a hundred humans.
It turns out that the ship and the people aboard arrived from lands beyond Alagaësia itself! These people speak an entirely new and different language, which to my ears appear completely unrelated to the languages of either humans, elves, dwarves, or Urgals! They wear clothing never before seen in the Empire and their features also differ from those in the Empire; they all had dark hair and dark eye colors, and distinctive facial complexions. They are light-skinned however. Other than that, very little is known of these foreigners and the lands they come from, but they seem advanced enough to build fairly large ships, high-quality fabrics—judging by their garments—and a figurine that impressed even Lord Risthart.
The leader of their expedition is presently holding talks with Lord Risthart, the governor of Teirm. It is possible they are seeking an audience with the king, and if so, the Empire might soon be opening up diplomatic ties with an entirely new country. Indeed, these events could prove very fortuitous to the Empire.
I hope you find these news interesting, old friends.
Your primary well-wisher from Teirm.
The letter was far more vague and sparse in details than what Jeod would have liked, and to protect his alibi he could not even mention the fact that he himself was hosting a couple of these very foreigners. He had not even mentioned the fact that the foreigners had been in possession of paper, and thus likely had ties with some elven society. Had he mentioned that, it would be far easier for the Empire to trace down the letter to him should it fall into their hands, since many eyes had been present at the Glazing Poultry where he had discovered the piece of paper. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but he did not wish to be hauled to rot away in Lord Risthart's dungeons, or even worse expose the Varden's position and those of his contacts. The Varden's position had deteriorated so much since the passing of his friend Bro—
No, don't think about that, old man! Nothing good will come out of it.
If only he was not about to be surrounded by the darkness of nighttime, he could have distracted himself with a scroll or a book. This was why he so strongly loathed nightfall—not because of fear of Ra'zacs or some other nighttime demon, but because it commenced the time of the day when reading was no longer possible, at least for him. The night, Jeod thought, represented illiteracy and ignorance.
He would spend the better part of the next few days scrutinizing his collections for all mentionings of lands beyond Alagaësia, and any historic contacts and exchanges with such lands or peoples of such places. But for now, he would cave in to the inexorable darkening of the day and go to bed.
Early next morning, while everyone else in the mansion was still asleep, Jeod went to the house of one of his most trusted couriers, looking over his shoulder to make sure no watchers were nearby. The courier did not seem to appreciate being rudely awakened so early in the morning, and it took some convincing and several coins to convince him to get on a saddle on a short notice. The courier assured Jeod that he would move with haste, although even at a brisk pace it would take over a month to reach Tronjheim. Almost four hundred leagues separated Teirm from Farthen Dûr.
Jeod then rushed home and went straight to his study, even though he had not yet had breakfast. Thanks to his racing thoughts he had not gotten much sleep the previous night, but the excitement and his jitters since yesterday were still keeping him alert and roused. He was also slightly upset and apprehensive that Helen had chosen to spend the night in her private room. She must truly be furious with him over his latest business losses.
While he already knew by heart most of the contents of the Domia abr Wyrda, he decided it would still be best to start with that immense manuscript. Truthfully, he owned few works that covered the topic of what lay beyond Alagaësia, and he would not be surprised if most such works had not survived Galbatorix's burning and pillaging of the libraries across what was once the Broddring Kingdom. Much of the human race's written works and accomplishments had been lost, and with it the loss of knowledge and bodies of discoveries, from which the human race had never recovered.
As Jeod skimmed through the pages that dealt with the origins of elves, Urgals, humans, and Ra'zacs, he grew increasingly frustrated with the lack of specificity and paucity of details regarding their native lands. Little more was mentioned than the dates the various races had arrived in Alagaësia and the speculated direction from whence they had arrived; the elves and Urgals from the west, or Alalëa specifically in the case of the elves, and the humans and the Ra'zacs from the south, beyond the Beor Mountains.
There was one paragraph in the preface that caught his eye:
Of the Riders' collected wisdom, only fragments remain, cryptic references scattered like chaff before the wind throughout dwarf scrolls and the elves' ancient stores of knowledge. These often impenetrable shards of truth provide, for the most part, nothing but frustration to one who studies them and is unfamiliar with the source manuscripts, but what can be gleaned seems to indicate that while humans may also dwell somewhere outside of Alagaësia—and Urgals as well, for they are hardy creatures—the elves and dwarves exist nowhere else.
Elves don't exist anywhere else? thought Jeod. He remembered the pieces of paper Marie had carried with her. No, Heslant was surely mistaken. In any case, if Heslant knew very little of the lands beyond Alagaësia, how could he confidently make the assumption that elves don't exist elsewhere, in the first place? Truly, if some of the most authoritative sources indicated that elves no longer exist outside Alagaësia, that only reflected how little was actually known of the outside world. Jeod sighed. Not only had he learned next to nothing from his skimming of the book, he ignorance would have actually amplified had he believed all that was written in it!
Disillusionment filled him as he realized he had gotten too carried away with unrealistic expectations of what he would be able to find. If even the Domia abr Wyrda contained scarce information on other lands, what hope was there to find anything in any of his other books and scrolls? The Domia abr Wyrda had been outlawed across the Empire because of its wealth of information; other works of similar scope would be as well. Works he did not possess. He could perhaps consult with the other Eyes of Arcaena, but could he afford to appear more conspicuous than he already was by sending yet more mysterious letters?
Jeod closed the book and walked outside to the small front yard, whereupon he gazed at the sundial. It was a clear day, so the shadow cast by the gnomon was sharp and pronounced. Several hours had passed since daybreak.
He walked back into the mansion and instructed Rolf to prepare breakfast, including milk, hoping the foreigners would find it more to their liking than the spirits and the wine they had tried so far. He waited patiently for them to wake up and descend the stairs, even though he was by now famished. Or perhaps impatiently, for he could not wait to learn even more about them and their origins. Almost every minutiae thing he learned about them was fascinating and only served to add fuel to his burning curiosity.
Half an hour later the two foreigners came downstairs, where Jeod was waiting for them. "Greetings," said Marie in her accented tone, before bowing.
"Good morrow!" responded Jeod, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Breakfast has been prepared. Let us dine in the dining room." He gestured while speaking. He felt his mood brighten just from seeing them. To think, foreigners from lands never before seen were in his house, standing just before him! The Eyes of Arcaena would be green with envy at his once in a millennium fluke. Or was it millennia?
They sat down at the dining table, and Jeod saw Marie's eyes light up at the sight of the mugs of milk. She pointed to her mug.
"Mug, cup," Jeod said while pointing to the mug. "Milk," he said, while pointing to the contents inside. He saw Tsubasa looking at his mug with a pensive expression. Even as they tried to communicate, he noticed that they did not seem to make eye contact as often as most people.
"Pardon me, Tsubasa, but is the milk not to your liking?" Jeod said while pointing to his mug, hoping he was showing a concerned face.
The young man seemed to hesitate, then spoke a few words in their quick language. Marie responded, then appeared to be in thought for a few seconds as she put a few fingers to each side of her temple. Then she lifted up her own mug and started… blowing the milk? It was too hot? And then she pointed to Tsubasa and his mug.
Jeod had not thought his own mug particularly hot, or at least no hotter than milk ought to be; it was barely steaming. He supposed he could offer milk at room temperature in the future, at least to Tsubasa, even if he found the idea a strange one. Milk, like beer, wine, and most other drinks, were always served hot whenever possible. Was that also partly the reason they did not seem keen on the drinks yesterday, because it was too hot for their preferences? But hot drinks were good for one's health, or so it was believed. The more he learned about the foreigners, the more he realized the gaps in cultures and habits.
As with yesterday, the two struggled to pick up the food that was served. They no longer chose to use their hands at all, and the best Jeod could do to make things easier for them was to offer each of them a knife, in addition to the spoon. He had done the same at dinner yesterday.
At that moment he heard the familiar footsteps of his wife enter the dining room, only for them to stop cold. Jeod turned around to find her staring at the two foreigners, flabbergasted. Apparently Rolf had not found it prudent to inform her of the two guests they were currently hosting.
Marie smiled at her and said: "Greetings."
"..."
"Ahh… dear Helen," Jeod said. "You see—"
"Jeod, you yellow-bellied wandought! How dare you bring tramps and peasants into this house?! Merely gambling it away on your bankrupt business was not enough, was it, you shriveling fopdoodle?!" She nearly screeched, pointing at the foreigners, and then banged her fist into the wall.
Jeod felt hurt and anger bubble within him, along with something else. "Be silent, woman!" he growled before he could stop himself, and Helen froze. His fists were tightly clenched as his breathing became more aggravated. The words fell out of his mouth. "Why… how could you... dishonor my… our, and your family's name, by insulting our guests?" He recognized the other feeling within him as a deep sense of shame, for what Helen had just done was truly dishonorable and unworthy of people of their standing. "Perhaps it is us that are the peasants," he finished after taking a few calming breaths. "For our conduct just now is truly worthy of a peasant's. Nay, it is worse," he muttered, shaken from the whole incident. Helen may have been spiteful these last months, but never before had she lashed out like that.
His gaze fell on the foreigners, and his shame only deepened. Tsubasa appeared petrified, while Marie was busy patting his shoulder and murmuring quietly. Both had vacated their seats and were standing. Jeod was about to offer an apology, inadequate however it was, but then Helen spoke:
"But… but courtesy and conduct is only meant for others of high standing! It is not intended to be shown toward peasant—"
"They are not peasants!" Jeod protested. "They are guests, foreigners from a distant country in distant lands, and your actions have just dishonored our names and the entirety of Teirm!" he rambled. Why had it come to this? Had she finally had enough of his business losses?
Had she given up on him?
For one short moment, Helen appeared confounded. Then she glowered. "So it's even worse," she uttered. "They don't even have a place in the estate hierarchy. They are below even peasants. You...you brought foreign barbarians like Palancar..."
"You don't know that!" exclaimed Jeod. He continued: "Have you not dishonored our names enough for a lifetime? Why must you insist upon extending it to our afterlives as well?" He wanted to hide in a corner of the study. By the gods, the shame and hurt were too strong...
"But they don't speak our language, do they," countered Helen, with a brief glare on Marie. Apparently Helen had overheard the other woman's murmuring. "Therefore they don't understand what I am saying, and my honor and that of my family has been spared."
Jeod was dumbstruck by the absurdity of it all. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his mind blank. Perhaps the lack of sleep was finally starting to get back at him, or maybe Helen's reasoning had truly been too bizarre to counter. "You know they aren't peasants in their homeland," Jeod said resignedly, a pleading entering his voice. "Just… look at their clothing."
Jeod wanted to continue arguing with Helen, for he was still grieved and hurt by her actions and demeanor and wanted her to see that. He knew he would not be able to find some measure of peace until he had resolved some of the issues between them that were on display today. But now was not the time, for he needed to de-escalate the situation for the sake of the guests that were present. "Please, Helen." Please stop. Your antipathy is too much...
The two foreigners then found themselves under Helen's scrutinizing gaze, and Marie moved to block Tsubasa from her view. Jeod saw Helen's disdainful expression subtly change to one of barely-concealed fascination.
"... The fabric is rather exquisite," Helen conceded. She grudgingly added: "And they are not filthy, like one would expect peasants or nomads to be."
"They are no dirtier than us or any noble," Jeod quickly supplied, seeing his opening. "And their manners are refined, not at all like those of peasants." Seeing as Helen appeared mollified for the moment, Jeod turned to the foreigners. "We would like to offer our deepest apologies," he said. He tried to sound contrite and ashamed, but his heart was not in it. In his mind, Helen's vicious words echoed, and he could not stop seeing the sneer she had directed at him, no matter where he was looking.
Marie looked at him unsurely, while Tsubasa's gaze was frozen at Helen. The mood was tense and awkward, and Jeod realized they might not have understood his apology for what it was. "We are sorry," he tried again, and bowed deeply, adapting the gesture he had so often seen them use. Amid his inner agitation, it was a mighty effort to muster the energy for this second attempt at an apology.
He saw expressions of surprise from the two, and could almost feel the daggers Helen glared at his back. She probably saw what he deigned to do as disgraceful given the differences in stature, but was there any other way to communicate contrition?
He recovered to a standing position and gestured toward the table. "Please," he said. "Let us continue our morning meal. We shall all be happier and more content with our bellies full," he lied.
The four of them slowly sat down at the table, Jeod and Helen on opposite sides of each other as was tradition. With a few words, Marie had Tsubasa and her switch seats so that she was seated closest to Helen.
She really is not going to apologize or even look the least contriteful, Jeod thought as he chanced a glance at Helen. His throat tightened as he looked at her and so he quickly averted his gaze. He focused on his helping of bread and cheese, sausages, fruits, and various pastries, though it all tasted bland to him.
"They really don't speak the common tongue?" Helen asked.
Jeod continued to stare at his food. He really did not want to participate in aimless chatter with Helen, but he had no choice. With the guests present, conduct was everything. "They don't," he said curtly.
"I never imagined…" Helen muttered. "Just where are they from?"
"They arrived on a ship," Jeod forced himself to say.
"You mean there are more of these… foreigners?"
"Maybe a hundred or two."
"That many?" Helen sounded surprised. Jeod did not answer, and continued to pick at his food halfheartedly. He had lost his appetite.
"I suppose if they are able to build ships, they truly are from a country, and not just nomads," Helen grudgingly admitted. "How has the city authority reacted to all this?" she asked.
"... A few of them met with Lord Risthart."
"Truly? He would deign himself to an audience with these foreigners? You know that in the eyes of the Empire, they are nothing but lowly barbarians."
"Perhaps." He wished Helen would just stop talking.
The door to the dining room opened, and in came Rolf with a cup of steaming red-clover tea, which he served before Helen. Jeod quickly glanced down at his food again. He wondered if Helen would ever feel regret and apologize. Perhaps not.
"Sorry, Jeod."
Jeod looked up at the new voice that had entered the conversation. "Yes?" He gestured for Marie to continue. Helen looked curiously between the two.
Marie hesitantly pointed at the silver cup before Helen.
"Tea," Jeod answered. He knew he should have made it clearer whether he was referring to the cup or the tea within it, but he could not summon the energy to elaborate. He only wanted this breakfast charade to be over with.
"They wouldn't know what that is," remarked Helen with a slightly disparaging glance at Marie. "Even societies close to the Empire, like the wandering tribes, do not know of it, despite the civilizing presence of the Empire. A society so far away they don't even speak our language would be far removed from our civilizing presence. They would not know of tea, or candles, or fine leathers, and all that which exemplifies a refined civilization such as ours."
Despite Jeod's inner turmoil—or maybe because of it—, he could not resist a snippy retort: "Just like how we would not have known of tea had it not been for the civilizing presence of the elves." Or writing had it not been for the dwarves.
Helen grimaced. "Oh please, Jeod. That was a long time ago, and you know that. The Empire makes all its own tea, which I bet tastes just as fine as whatever those elves make."
"I wouldn't bet on that." Jeod muttered despite himself. At least the petulant discussion did slightly distract him from his heavy feelings.
Helen huffed. "Oh please. I would like to see you live in a lesser, peripheral society, such as where they hail from," she glanced at the foreigners, "you would be begging to be back, and you would be more appreciative of the achievements of a higher civilization." She breathed in and called: "Rolf! Make another two cups of tea for these foreigners!" To Jeod she said: "I want to see their looks when they taste what a higher civilization has to offer."
Jeod saw Marie look at them curiously. He tried to smile at her, straining his jaw muscles into what felt like a grimace. "You two," he pointed at Marie and Tsubasa, "will get to taste our tea." He pointed to Helen's cup, then back to the two foreigners. He did not bother with the mimicking gestures.
"Ahh," Marie said.
"How primitive," deplored Helen. "I wouldn't be surprised if this is how people communicate in lesser civilizations at the periphery," she sighed. Jeod stared at his mostly uneaten platter.
Some minutes later, Rolf arrived with three cups of hot tea, which he gingerly placed by their respective seats. "Thank you," said Marie, and Rolf frowned.
"She seems to have grasped some of our tongue already," Helen said approvingly. "Perhaps she is eager to embrace our country's more cultured way of life."
Jeod would have sighed at such comments, had he not felt so dead inside. Helen was hardly the only one to regard the Empire as the pinnacle of the human race, and Jeod supposed this was true still even with all the damage Galbatorix had wreaked. Surda for all its wealth was considerably smaller and dependent on trade with the Empire for its prosperity. The Empire was unmatched in the size of its population anywhere in the world; with over five million souls within its borders, no other country came close.
But the constant bragging had gotten a bit tiring to hear over the years, with the citizens of the Empire ever relishing in boasting of their country to outside nomads and travelers and others from the periphery of the Empire—whom they looked down upon as primitive and uncivilized—whenever they had the opportunity, mostly to boost their own sense of importance and pride when they saw the sense of awe on the nomad's faces. And it was worrying how human civilization and culture were progressively being conflated with the Empire itself, at least in the major cities.
Jeod had suspected for a while that Galbatorix had a hand in this. By instilling his subjects with a sense of pride in the Empire, and by inextricably linking all of the human race's accomplishments to it, he was also successfully instilling loyalty and pride to himself as their monarch. And by painting humans from outside the Empire and Surda as primitive and uncivilized, that was also how the Varden were slowly being viewed. As a result of all that, recruits to the Varden were dwindling year after year. Not only were the Varden losing the battle of swords; they were also increasingly losing the battle of hearts and minds…
The Varden is lost, and you are dooming your own marriage and livelihood just to delay their inevitable demise, a treacherous part of his mind whispered.
Marie and Tsubasa sniffed at their red-clover teas, and though Jeod did his best to avoid looking at Helen, he knew she was staring at them intently.
The foreigners seemed fascinated by their cups, which they examined for a moment. Then they started sipping.
He thought he saw Tsubasa blanch slightly, as if in distaste, or maybe he just was not used to the taste. Marie's expression was cordial enough, but Jeod could not garner from it her thoughts on the tea. They talked quietly to each other.
Helen's magnanimous expression turned into a slight frown. Marie noticed the anticipation and politely nodded at them, then seemed to urge Tsubasa to do the same.
Jeod knew there was nothing wrong with the quality of the tea itself. It had been sourced from special plantations around Belatona and was among the best to be found in the upper-middle price class. Only the outrageously expensive chamomile rose tea samplers from the plantations of Urû'baen were of noticeably higher quality. Samplers which Helen used to love, and which Jeod could no longer afford her because of his obligations to the Varden, and the devastating consequences of that.
Helen sniffed. "Oh, well. I suppose tea is an acquired taste, and not for people with simpler palates. You can't deny that seems to be the norm in peripheral societies, right Jeod?"
"I suppose," Jeod said half-heartedly. He looked up briefly from his platter to have a peek at the foreigners and saw Marie glance at him with concern, which only made him feel guilty. He was doing a really poor job with the charade, he knew that, and it frustrated him that he could not even will himself to exert more effort, like there was some kind of mental block stopping him ever since Helen had fulminated at them.
It looked like Marie wanted to say something to him, and then she dug into her leather bag and pulled out a… was that folded parchment? Thick parchment? Double-layered parchment? Jeod was not sure. Its shape was square and it was highly symmetric and smooth. An additional triangle-shaped layer of parchment seemed to cover the upper part, making it extra thick there.
Marie stood up from her seat and walked the short distance to where Jeod was seated, before handing him the curious parchment item, which was yellow-beige in color. "Tea to you," she said, gesturing to her cup, then to him, and then to the parchment item.
Despite his woes, he felt the bewilderment and curiosity rising. "What?" he murmured.
Helen was similarly bemused. "What do you mean by that, ...?" she started asking Marie.
"Her name is Marie," Jeod added absentmindedly, still examining the parchment.
"Just what did—wait, did she actually hand you fine parchment? They can actually make that?"
Jeod scrutinized the parchment content more closely, and then realized he had made the same incorrect assumption as yesterday.
"This is not parchment," he said. "This is paper."
"Pap—what did you say?" Helen asked. "Something that's not parchment?"
"Paper," Jeod clarified. "Another material that can be used for writing. Unlike parchment it's made from wood extract, I think."
Helen seemed slightly baffled. "I've never heard of such a thing," she said. She poked at it and said: "It's too soft to be wood."
"I've never actually seen it before, only read about its descriptions in texts," Jeod said.
"Sorry," Marie chipped in. She gently took the paper from Jeod's prying hands, and then… unfolded the triangle-shaped layer on the top?
Apparently there was space between the layers of paper, and Marie stuck her hand inside to snatch what looked like dried roots or leaves, along with something else? "She pointed to it and said to Jeod: "Tea. To you." It was placed in his hand.
Somehow, Jeod found the gesture more touching than he should. She appeared to have noticed that he was the only one at the table not having a cup of tea, and had quickly offered some. Perhaps it was because of his already turbulent emotional state, and the fact that Helen had not shown him such consideration in a long time, but the gesture made him feel a lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
And then the rational part of him reacted to what Marie had said. "Did you say—"
"Jeod!" Helen burst out. "Did you buy them tea before? How could you squander what few c—"
"N-no," Jeod replied. "I did not." He was still processing the implications of it all.
"But…" Helen seemed at a loss for words. "Then where did they get the tea leaves? They bought it themselves from Erland's Apothecary, or some other shop?"
Jeod only needed a quick glance to confirm his suspicions. "I do not recognize this tea sampler," he said. "This tea was not produced in the Empire."
"What in damnation?" Helen sputtered. She was clearly in disbelief, but refuting Jeod's judgment was a tall order. While Helen's knowledge of tea was fairly sophisticated, Jeod—ever the scholar—was close to an expert on the topic. "Rolf!" Jeod called out, and his voice no longer sounded languid. "Could you please hand us some additional cups and a pot of hot water?"
"Aye, Master Jeod!" came the reply.
Marie retook her seat while they waited. A couple of minutes later, Rolf arrived with the items Jeod had requested. With wordless help from Marie, he filled a few cups with the right ratio of dried ingredients and steaming hot water. Slowly, the water turned a green hue.
"I-it's impossible," Helen stammered, as Rolf handed her one of the cups. She sniffed at it, as did Jeod at his. The aroma was surprisingly pleasant, and less strong and bitter than what he was used to.
Jeod himself found the present situation a little surreal between the lack of sleep, Helen's earlier outburst and the hurt, and the impossible surprises the foreigners kept presenting. To think… a country that was actually able to produce tea! Just what did that mean? He could not help himself; he felt the excitement from earlier this morning resurfacing. Was this another sign that the foreigners had contacts with elves? After all, tea was originally an elven concoction.
"This can't be," said Helen. "Peripheral societies can't make tea!" She stared closely at the substance. "Indeed, this doesn't look like tea at all! The color is all wrong. Maybe it's even poisonous," she rambled.
"They are drinking it as well," Jeod pointed out. At least Tsubasa had been served another cup of their own tea. Their own tea!
Feeling his heart pick up pace, he raised the cup to his lips and sipped.
And he was floored.
Its taste was best described as slightly sweet, savory, and even slightly nutty and earthy, and there were other tastes Jeod could not immediately identify. It was not overpowering, but in fact quite subtle. The customary bitterness of tea was mostly lacking.
It tasted like no other tea he had ever imbibed.
"By the gods, you have to try it!" Jeod proclaimed. And Helen did. Then she blanched and gaped. "No, no, no," she chanted. "How is this possible!" She continued sipping, unable to stop herself.
Jeod was halfway through his cup before he could stop himself. "This… this must surely rival even the finest teas at the king's court," Jeod said. "And it certainly beats the finest teas even nobles here in Teirm could get." In the background, he could hear Marie quietly speaking to Tsubasa.
"Oh, but how?" Helen said. "It's… No society at the periphery should… Jeod, just where do they come from?"
Jeod blinked at her question. "That's a good question," he admitted. That had actually been one of the things he had planned to ask, before his quarrelling with Helen had derailed everything.
"Rolf, could you fetch us the map of Alagaësia?" Jeod asked.
Not a minute later, Rolf was carefully unfurling the map on the table, being sure to avoid all the cups, mugs, and tableware as he did so.
Jeod saw the two foreigners stare intently at the map, whom he had gestured to sit right next to him. "A map," Jeod said when Marie pointed to it. He then swept his finger over the main landmass and said: "Alagaësia." To make sure she understood, he also pointed to the large islands to the west and said "Vroengard," "Beirland," and so on.
Marie gestured around them, then gestured to the western coast of Alagaësia that was enclosed by the spine, with a questioning expression at Jeod.
"Ah," Jeod said and pointed to Teirm. "We are in Teirm. Teirm." How did she know that's where we are?
Marie then pointed to the other large cities of the Empire and had Jeod supply her with their names. She then placed multiple fingers on several cities and asked: "This is?"
Jeod was confused for a moment. "You are pointing to multiple cities at the same time," Jeod said, then realized. "Cities," he said. Marie did the same with the islands to get the word for it in the common language. She then pointed to the only country in Alagaësia whose borders were delineated. "Surda," Jeod said.
"Surda is?"
"Surda is a country."
"Teirm are in country?" Marie asked. In the background, Jeod could hear Helen scoff lightly.
"Teirm is in..." he hesitated. "The Empire." He really wished he could have said "the Broddring Kingdom", or even "the Broddring Empire". Just "the Empire" was a nonsensical name to call a country, but he had no choice. That was the name Galbatorix had chosen for the largest country in the world, and in any case, Galbatorix was not of the descending line of the Broddrings. "The Empire," Jeod repeated.
"The Empire," Marie pronounced in a respectful tone and smiled, and Jeod inwardly cringed.
"Ask them where they come from," Helen interjected impatiently.
"I shall." Jeod pointed to the two foreigners, then swept one hand over the map questioningly. "Where are you from?" he asked. He swallowed in anticipation as he awaited the answer.
"Ah," said Marie. She then gestured to the western edges of the map.
A pregnant silence filled the dining room. Then Helen breathed out: "There is actual land there?"
Jeod himself was flummoxed by this revelation. "But that is… I had thought they were still from the same landmass as Alagaësia," he whispered. "But to be actually separated by the sea…"
"Jeod, that's just unnerving to think about, imagine how close to the edge of the world they must be!"
"Maybe…" Jeod began. "It is said that the elves too originally came from a land to the west of here, which they called Alalëa." He then turned to Marie and asked: "Alalëa? Have the two of you heard of Alalëa?"
"I Alalëa don't know," Marie said apologetically.
"Then… What is the name of your country?" He pointed to himself and Helen and said: "The name of our country is… the Empire," he said the last part a little too nonchalantly. He then pointed to the two foreigners. "What is the name of your country?"
Marie quickly caught on to his question, and answered: "Japa—"
"Neehon."
"Huh?" Jeod turned to face Tsubasa. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Jeod asked, surprised. This was probably one of the first times Tsubasa had addressed him directly. Marie chuckled in the background, but there was no ill intent behind it.
"Nihon," Tsubasa enunciated. "Country. Name." His accent was noticeably thicker than Marie's, but Jeod was surprised that he had at all picked up words of the common language.
"Nihon," Jeod repeated. Nihon. He finally had a name for the country that had intrigued him so for much of the past day, an intrigue that was now coming back. The hurt from Helen's earlier pugnacity had been pushed to the side, for now.
"What a strange name for a country," commented Helen.
There was so much Jeod wanted to ask, that he wished he could ask. Body gestures and affirmations could only do so much. He supposed he could try a few simple questions.
"How large is your country?" he asked. He used hand gestures to express different sizes on the map.
"Ah," Marie answered. "Island country."
"Island?" Jeod blurted. "Your country is an island? It is not on a landmass, like the Empire?" His gestures complemented his words.
"Yes, Jeod. Is an island. Nihon is island country."
At this, Helen sighed lamentably. "Oh well, I suppose it was too much to hope that their "country" was actually part of a mainland."
Jeod tried, he really did, to hide the disappointment from his expression. He did not wish to show any disrespect toward them, especially since they had treated him with nothing but respect and kindness in turn. "That's interesting," he said insincerely.
But their country was an island. Island societies were small and primitive—he meant simple. Beirland, the currently largest inhabited island on the map, had a population in the low tens of thousands. Even if this Nihon was larger, he could not imagine it approaching a country like Surda in size. Even if the Varden was somehow able to get its support, its assistance would matter little. The consolation was that the Empire would not benefit much from opening up ties with it, either.
But the more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. After all, the foreigners had arrived on a large ship. The clothing they wore was a result of great tailoring. They had tea that surpassed the Empire's. They even had paper and silver. Island societies were supposed to be simple, with trades based around farming, hunting, fishing, simple weaving, and little else, not intricate goods or structures of complex engineering.
They probably received all this from the elves, he reasoned to himself. Although the tea is a mystery. Elven tea is supposedly made from berries and berry extracts, which their tea clearly is not.
He was thinking of ways to inquire them on their contacts with elven societies when Tsubasa suddenly pointed to a point on the map that depicted numerous ragged elevations.
"Oh, that's the Beor Mountains, or the Beors. The mountains there are said to be very large and very high." He stretched out his arms to demonstrate. How curious that his attention should just happen to land on the mountains that host the Varden.
Tsubasa's expression had changed. He resumed staring at the Beors on the map, and Jeod saw that his face had taken on a look that was both solemn and resolute, as if he…
"Perhaps you will see the mountains yourself one day, Tsubasa, should your stay in Alagaësia prove to be enduring," said Jeod. Based on the look he received, he knew he had not been well understood. Jeod continued, seeing an avenue to the question he intended to ask: "The Beor Mountains are rumored to be home to the dwarves."
Jeod raised his voice, and called: "Rolf, could fetch the book on the races of Alagaësia? You know which one I'm talking about."
"Aye, Master Jeod!"
"Rolf will return with a book that describes the various races of Alagaësia," Jeod informed the foreigners. Marie, who had been looking at Tsubasa with a thoughtful face ever since he had brought up the Beors, turned her attention back to Jeod. "Races?" she asked.
"Aye," said Jeod. He pointed to himself and said "human." Then he did the same with Helen, the two foreigners, and the direction where he thought Rolf was. "Humans. We are all humans. We are all of the human race." Jeod finished.
"Human is race?" Marie asked.
"Yes," Jeod responded, surprised by her quick acumen. "So are—"
"Here it is." Rolf placed the thin but wide book on the table. Jeod thanked him and went on to flick through the rough, yellow-brown pages until he landed on the section about dwarves. He did not care much for the text itself; it was the drawings he wanted to show them.
He pointed to the pale-colored drawing which showed several stout, short men and women. Like all drawings, the depiction was crude and imprecise and what was being represented was hardly what it actually looked like, but such was the inherent reality of drawings. Except for the magic that the elves used, it was simply impossible to create images that accurately reflected what was being depicted.
Jeod pointed to the crude portrayal and pronounced the words "dwarf, dwarves" to inform them of the name they were called in the common language.
"Dwarf..." Marie murmured in confusion. A growing disbelief filled her face. "Dwarf is race?" she uttered in trepidation.
"Yes!" affirmed Jeod. He pointed to the Beor Mountains and said: "Here is where the dwarves live, or at least many people think so." At the growing bafflement on both the foreigner's faces, he asked: "Are there any dwarves in Nihon?"
"A-ree-enai," Tsubasa murmured, ignoring Jeod's question. Marie was busy gaping. Finally, she recovered: "No Jeod. Nihon are no dwarves." She pointed to the Beors and imploringly asked: "Dwarves are?"
"You mean if dwarves live there? Many think so, yes" said Jeod. "Dwarves do exist somewhere in Alagaësia." He swept one hand over the map. He knew of course that dwarves lived in the Beors, but had to feign ignorance to avoid exposing himself.
Jeod surmised that the lack of dwarves farther west should prove no surprise, as they were said to be native of Alagaësia. It did please him, however, that for once he was not the one on the back foot. The foreigners still seemed shocked at the revelation of a dwarven race.
He then flipped the pages to the race he had been yearning to inquire them about. The drawing was so rudimentary that it would have been impossible to identify the elves as such—rather than as humans—had it not been for their pointed ears. Jeod felt a sense of doubt; maybe they would not be able to tell what the drawing was depicting?
But when Jeod pointed to the pointed ears, Tsubasa blurted out: "Na-nee!" He seemed to have lost his reserved composure, and Marie was in a stupor.
"Elf, elves," Jeod quickly filled in. "They are said to be living in this forest to the north." He pointed to Du Weldenvarden. Then he asked without thinking: "There are elves in Nihon as well, am I correct?"
Marie answered him with a dazed look: "What?"
"Elves," Jeod repeated. "Are there elves in Nihon?"
"Ahh, no Jeod." She shook her head.
"What?!" Jeod exclaimed. "But... but you recognized them!"
"Sorry, what? Nihon are no elves."
"Are you sure?" He pointed to an elf on the drawing, then beckoned to beyond the far-western edge of the map, then pointed to Marie.
He got the same answer. And when he asked them to elaborate on their knowledge of elves, it fell on uncomprehending ears, owing to the language barrier. Perhaps they are lying, thought Jeod. But why?
"This is getting repetitious," Helen finally interjected. "Until they are more proficient in our common language, you won't be able to reap more answers from them."
"Will you help me teach them our language at the times I'm away at the citadel?" Jeod asked, frowning on the inside. Her earlier belligerence was still fresh on his mind, and asking her for a favor so soon after that made him feel uncomfortable.
Helen sighed. "I'll admit that I'm curious myself of their origins. And if they could share with us their recipes for tea making…"
Jeod nodded. He turned to the foreigners and said: "I'm off to do my trade. I'll be back well before dusk." In truth, he had no planned work for today, but he needed to find out how the meeting between Lord Risthart and the foreigners went, and if the governor had attempted to use his court magician to extract information from their minds.
Once he arrived at the castle, he promptly asked a servant about the foreigners Lord Risthart had invited to the citadel.
"I've heard that Lord Risthart is quickly losing his patience with them, sir. His lordship is finding it impossible to communicate because of their muteness."
"Muteness?" Jeod repeated.
The servant shrugged. "If the only thing they can speak is a barbarian's tongue, is that not akin to muteness, sir?"
Jeod then spent the rest of the day walking through the rather damp and grimy hallways, intending on discreetly investigating the circumstances surrounding the foreigners. Like most days, smoke filled the castle from the burning torches set into the walls, irritating his eyes, nose, and lungs, and Jeod found himself questioning Lord Risthart's sanity as he always did during his excursions in the citadel. Just who in their right mind would set up torches indoors?! Not to mention they needed to be replaced every hour and the ashes needed to be constantly cleaned up, taking up a considerable portion of the castle servants' labor and a non-trivial portion of the city's finances. He was hardly the only one opposed to this particular expression of Risthart's madness, but it seemed no one dared openly voice it before the governor.
Most of Jeod's unknowing informants were servants and other merchants, as most nobles would not deign to speak to someone of his stature—which had suffered along with his business misfortunes—, and the accounts he got of their attitudes toward the foreigners were second hand. From what he garnered, sentiments of condescension toward the foreigners seemed to be ubiquitous, especially from the ones who had not personally met them. This was to be expected; the foreigners had come from the periphery in a world view where the Empire, the civilizing presence, was at the center, and so there was only limited interest in their lands, though some appeared to be begrudgingly intrigued after seeing their fine clothing. Others had expressed hope that Lord Risthart would soon evict "the mute barbarians" from his castle.
Eventually, Jeod managed to find out from the librarian, who happened to be a good friend of the court magician, that the magician had indeed attempted to read the minds of the foreigners. Unfortunately (or maybe not), the magician had not been able to comprehend their spoken thoughts because they were in a different language. And it seemed that Lord Risthart had not bothered to pursue the matter further by attempting to recruit a more skilled magician.
Once he was alone, Jeod exhaled in relief, then coughed from the smoke. He knew that more adept magicians were better able to read nonverbal thoughts, such as images, feelings, and sensations, and could also dig deeper into people's minds to actually browse memories and extract knowledge without the need to understand the words behind them. But the court magician's skill was restricted to reading surface thoughts, and even then only verbal ones.
Having one less thing to worry about, Jeod tarried in his business headquarters until afternoon—the wooden window shutter wide open to ventilate as much smoke as possible—while trying not to think about the state of his business half a year from now should the ship disappearances continue. At least for the next coming months, he would devote much of his efforts to teaching the foreigners they were hosting the common language. All the while, the question of whether elves existed in Nihon would gnaw at his mind.
On his way out of the castle, he saw a couple of the foreigners, clad in their simple yet exquisite robes. They appeared to be loitering by the fortress's main gate, not an uncommon practise among the castle's dwellers who sought refuge from Risthart's fascination with smoke-infested hallways. They seemed as clean and well-groomed as the foreigners he was hosting, and seemed to carry the same refined mannerism and… an air of authority? One of them caught him staring, and smiled at him before bowing, and then surprised him by saying: "Well met." The greeting was accented but still perfectly intelligible.
Jeod bowed back, and it was their turn to be surprised. "Well met," he responded sincerely. Are they all as gifted at picking up new languages?
The foreigner he was talking to opened his mouth to respond, and then suddenly gawked, staring at a point behind Jeod, his eyes bulging out, while letting out a breathless gasp. The other foreigner quickly lost his dignified composure in the same manner, also staring at whatever was behind Jeod while fumbling for some tiny object in his pocket that appeared black and square-shaped.
Huh? Jeod turned around, and found a congregation of people gathered around a man dressed in overly long robes, whom Jeod recognized as the court magician. The magician seemed to be giving one of his usual public performances, to the delight of the crowd. A small rock was levitating above his outstretched hands, and then he set it on fire. The rock was then magically flung away as the magician proceeded to conjure a red ball of light the size of a large pearl.
Jeod turned back, intending to politely inquire the foreigners if they were finding the performance entertaining, but his eyes met empty air. His gaze found them more than a dozen yards away, appearing to be in a great hurry as they quickly strode out of the castle gate.
What in Heslant's name was that?
Once he had returned to the mansion, he was met with the sight of Marie and Tsubasa waiting for him by the stairs. "Greetings Jeod!" said Marie. "We go bathhouse."
"Again?!" Jeod uttered incredulously. "But it was only yesterday that you bathed."
"They are also very fastidious about constantly washing their hands, even when they are not greasy," came Helen's voice from another room. "Just let them bathe, we can't stop their folly as it is. It's a wonder they look as healthy as they do."
Jeod blinked. In all his years of researching, he had never come across a human culture with such a proclivity for ablutions. Surely there had to be some religious rationale behind it all. Perhaps their religion compelled them to fall sick, like how the religion of Helgrind compelled their followers to self-mutilat—
No, that was too drastic a conjecture, or at least he hoped it was. "Well then," said Jeod as he stopped his ruminations, and then instructed Rolf to give the two some linen towels. "I will come with you, but I won't bathe," he clarified. While he could not stop them from exposing themselves to the miasma, there was no need to unnecessarily endanger his own health.
And so they were once again off to Teirm's only public bathhouse. He hoped this would not become a daily routine.