The Elder Lands - Chapter 29
Lucan sat opposite the spirit, the latter wearing his constant smile. The spirit’s interruption of his conversation with the princess had been irritating to say the least, but Lucan held back his irritation, lest it pour through. It wouldn’t do to lose everything after he’d suffered through half of the Trial. Though he didn’t know whether the spirit could take back what it had already given him.
“Are you prepared?” the spirit in man’s form finally spoke.
Lucan nodded and took a breath. He wondered whether this run would be as frustrating as the previous one, and in the ambient light of the hall, he looked upon the colored paint on the spirit’s face and hands. He would’ve thought him a jester, had he not carried such incorporeal weight behind his ever-present smile.
“Then we shall begin anew, as foreseen,” the spirit said. “Imagine with me.” He gestured at the table and motes of light came together to form shapes. A road with a fork at the end. “You are traveling to the great city of Manph when you come upon a fork in the road. One branch of the fork leads to Manph and the other does not. Unfortunately, you don’t know which of them leads to your destination. But you know there’s a shack by the fork in the road where twins live, and they know which branch of the road leads to Manph. The twins look alike, they dress alike, they talk alike, yet they differ in one thing only. One of them always tells the truth. One of them always lies. When you knock on their door, one of the brothers opens it. He allows you one question and one question only to ascertain your direction. You don’t know which brother he is. What question do you ask?”
Lucan leaned back in his chair. This riddle differed slightly but it was similar to the last one he’d been given before the spirit had allowed him some respite. He remembered the princess’s advice and what he’d drawn from it. I don’t necessarily need the truth, I simply need the right lie.
“I would ask him what his brother would say if I were to ask him which path led to Manph,” Lucan said.
The spirit’s smile turned into a grin. “Rest has given you much wisdom.” Then he raised a hand, upon which a red orb formed. “Which road would you take?”
“The opposite of the answer I get,” Lucan said. Through his question, he’d ascertained that the answer he received would be a lie, as his question would pass through both brothers instead of one. If the one at the door was a liar, then he would lie about what his honest brother would say. If the one at the door was honest, then he would honestly tell him the lie his liar brother would say. Either way, he’d ensured that he’d get the right lie, one that would lead him to the truth.
The spirit chuckled and extended his hand, giving Lucan the Vital Orb. “You seem to be adapting to my riddle.” He stole a glance in the princess’s direction, as though telling him that he knew.
Lucan was certain that if the spirit had had any qualms about the princess’s veiled advice, he would’ve prevented it or at least expelled them from the Trial. He wondered whether he was simply trying to unsettle him now. So he leaned forward and allowed some of his irritation through. “Well, I had to, given that all your riddles were only ideal for one of us.” He mimicked the spirit’s glance in the princess’s direction.
The spirit leaned back putting a hand on his chest, as though affronted. “You could not believe me biased.”
“I would accuse you of no such thing,” Lucan said as neutrally as he could, hoping the implicit mockery wasn’t lost on his opponent.
Instead of being offended, the spirit chuckled. “Fine,” he said. “Mayhaps we should explore a test more appropriate for one such as yourself.” He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand. “You are a warrior, yes?”
Lucan shrugged. “Somewhat.”
“Then a test of finesse!” the spirit said excitedly. He gestured beside him, where motes of light once again converged, this time taking the form of three new people. Those three, however, weren’t as lively as the spirit. They stood there like sculptures. And surprisingly, one of them looked exactly like Lucan.
“Please stand up,” the spirit said, pointing in front of the three frozen men.
Lucan did as instructed, standing in front of them.
“You are presented with three opponents,” the spirit said, pointing at the first, a man of middle age with a scar on his face and dark hair. “The first is a man who has more Vital Orbs to his Blessing than you, but he carries a much lesser weapon.” Then the spirit gestured at the next one who was a blonde youth perhaps as young as Lucan or a little older. “This one has less Vital Orbs to his Blessing than you but you know nothing else about him.” Then the spirit pointed at the last one, the one that looked like Lucan. “This one is everything that you are. You must only defeat one of them to be rewarded. Which do you choose?”
Without hesitation, Lucan pointed at the one that looked like him.
“Huh,” the spirit let out noncommittally.
“Will we fight now then?” Lucan said, gesturing at his image.
“If you answer my question appropriately, you might not have to,” the spirit said. “Will you take the chance?”
Lucan nodded, walking back to his seat. “Yes.”
“Ha!” the spirit exclaimed. “So quick to avoid a fight, yet you were so certain of your choice that it did not take you a moment of thought.”
Lucan shrugged. “Why bother with a fight if I can win without one?”
The spirit thought for a moment then nodded back in acknowledgement. “My question is this then, upon what reason did you make your choice?”
“The stronger one could overwhelm me. I don’t know if I have the Skills to balance the scales, no matter the difference in armament,” Lucan said. “Likewise, I don’t know whether the younger and weaker one has the Skills to balance his scales against me. The last one, though. That one I know. Very well too” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d know how to fight him.”
The spirit nodded along, still showing his meaningless smile. “True.”
“Is that the appropriate answer?” Lucan asked.
“It is,” the spirit said. “You cannot be victorious without at least knowing your capabilities. It’s better, however, to know both yours and your enemy’s. Then, your victory is a certainty. Or so a wise one once said.” He extended his hand with a Vital Orb forming upon it. Lucan happily received it as he took his seat again.
The three combatants to the side of the table broke apart into motes of light as Lucan watched. The sight brought a thought to his mind. “There was never going to be a fight, was there?”
The spirit shook his head serenely. “Shall we continue?”
Lucan didn’t answer. It had still been a test of the mind, not the body. It seemed that the Trial had been made for only that purpose.
Even without a response, the spirit continued. “There was once a wealthy man. He knew his end was nigh and embraced his approaching death with grace. Yet his greatest worry was his four sons. There was never harmony between them. On everything they clashed. The sight of each other they could not bear. The man had only his home and a grand treasure of mythril to bequeath. The latter he swore wouldn’t belong to his sons until wisdom did too. His home, however, was a sprawling estate. With two walls, he split it into four, giving each son a quarter to occupy. Once the man died, his sons found in his will a single clue. ‘Only united shall you find your due.’”
Lucan had leaned forward, listening carefully. Once the spirit finished, he cocked his head. “I presume the question is ‘Where is the treasure?’”
The spirit nodded heavily.
Lucan was once again lost. He nearly guffawed, because in the first half of the Trial he’d answered the first two riddles, and then had begun failing from the third. It felt as though he was bound to that cycle now, as time crawled on, and he expected the spirit to tell him soon that he was out of time
Eventually, he found the answer only when he put himself in the wealthy man’s place. Where would he have put the treasure had he wanted to ascertain that his sons would only get it only if they bonded together?
He looked the spirit in the eye and spoke. “Where the two walls meet. The treasure is buried under there. Only if they tear their walls down shall they find the treasure.”
The spirit laughed heartily. “True. True.” Then he extended a hand with a Vital Orb once more.
Once Lucan received it, the spirit leaned back and fell silent.
“What’s next?” Lucan said.
“That is all.”
Lucan glanced to his left where the fog still impeded his vision of the princess. “That is all? The Trial has ended?”
Watching this, the spirit added, “For you, it has.”
Lucan noticed that the fog had brightened as though something was shining beyond it. He could only imagine what was happening on the other side. “Must I leave now?”
“You may wait if you wish. There’s no harm”
Lucan settled into his seat at the spirit’s reassurance.
Soon, the fog began to fade, and Lucan could see the princess again. She was on her feet and looking towards the passages they’d come through. When the fog faded, she looked in his direction and waved. She looked brighter for some reason Lucan could not perceive. The princess gestured towards the passages and Lucan nodded, getting up and walking in their direction while drawing closer to her.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A baptism.”
“A what?”
“I’m not yet certain what it is myself. But the spirit assured me it was something good.”
“I see,” Lucan said. “It was an honor conversing with you, Your Highness.”
“And it was a pleasure to converse with you, Lucan,” the princess said as they drew close to the passages. “But I fear I must disagree with you on something.”
“Your Highness?”
“You might have misjudged your father,” she said. “Some people reckon with grief differently than others. Some of them find memories of their loved ones painful, not nostalgic, for their love was too strong and their loss too great.”
“You believe my father is one of them? That this is why he dislikes seeing me read?”
“Well, unlike most men of good standing, he only has one son and heir, and he hasn’t remarried to rectify that, has he?”
With that, the princess stepped into her dark passage, leaving him to dwell on his thoughts.