"Three dead languages, eight old ones, and seven new languages. Eighteen in total. Three of them aren't used anymore, while the other fifteen are still spoken by both the older generation and the younger folk, each preserving the nuances of their culture in different ways." My voice lingered over the words for a moment as my mind drifted. I couldn't help but think about the evolution of these languages and how they held the story of our people in their very structure. Languages are more than just means of communication; they're threads that weave together the tapestry of a civilization's history, each with its own nuances, its own rhythm, its own melody. Out of the fifteen that are still in use today, I speak nine. The rest of the languages, I've only encountered in texts or ancient records, but they still hold a particular fascination for me. It's almost as if, through them, I can touch the past, hear the voices of those who lived long before my time.
"You are right. Next question, history-related. What was the name of the first civilization in the world?" His tone was inquisitive, his eyes sharp with curiosity, a slight edge to his voice as if he were truly probing to see if I knew the answer. It was clear he expected me to know the answer, and in this case, I was happy to oblige. History, after all, is something I hold dear to my heart. The names, the events, the great civilizations—they are what bind us to the past and guide us toward the future. History has always been one of my greatest passions.
"The name of that civilization was Raenyalomsarian," I replied confidently, the word rolling off my tongue with a rhythm I had grown accustomed to. When I was younger, I used to love saying this particular word because it was, at the time, the most difficult one I had ever encountered. It was a word that seemed to hold so much weight, so much mystery and history within it. The syllables felt foreign yet familiar, the sound of it echoing across time. I would repeat it to myself endlessly, savoring the challenge of pronouncing it correctly. It felt as though every time I said it, I was connecting with a piece of history, a piece of the world that was long gone. It was something I couldn't forget, even now.
"Eighth question, still on this topic. What happened to that civilization?" His voice remained calm and composed, but I could sense a spark of intrigue in his words. There was something about the way he asked that made me pause, something that made me realize I had underestimated him. He wasn't just asking questions; he was trying to understand. I had initially thought of him as nothing more than someone playing at being clever, but now, I saw there was more to him than I had given him credit for. It seems I was wrong.
"Seventy percent of that people, after their civilization fell, traveled westward to the region where the Maximillian Kingdom stands now. There, they founded what we now call our Kingdom. The other thirty percent that stayed behind in their homeland, well, they were divided into five distinct territories. These territories eventually became known as the United Kingdom," I explained, my voice steady as I recalled the events from the past. It's strange, isn't it? To think that my ancestors could have made a different choice, that they could have stayed in their homeland instead of journeying here. Sometimes I wonder how different things would have been if they had. What might the world look like today? Would it have been better, or worse?
"Right again. Now, two questions in a row. What was the first mineral discovered within the territory of the Maximillian Kingdom? And what is the main mineral that is being mined in the Kingdom today, and by whom?" The question caught my attention, intriguing me. I had studied this topic a while ago, so it wasn't one I struggled with. But still, I was always keen on tests like this, especially when it came to the history of our Kingdom and the resources that had shaped it.
"The first mineral discovered in the territory was zircon crystal, which is known for its clarity and distinct color. It's a rare mineral, prized for its natural beauty and its durability. However, the main mineral being mined in the Maximillian Kingdom today is diamond. And the House responsible for its mining operations is House D'Arcy," I answered easily. It was almost second nature to me at this point. Having grown up with such knowledge, it felt natural to rattle off these facts.
I heard Rai chuckling softly behind me, a slight amusement in his tone, as though he were mocking me in some way. It wasn't loud enough for anyone else to hear, but it was enough for me to catch it. I couldn't help but smirk inwardly. He clearly had a low opinion of my knowledge, perhaps thinking that I was kept in the dark by my family. I could feel his skepticism radiating off him, and that just made me all the more determined to prove him wrong.
"Hm, how wouldn't you know that, hm?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I turned to face him. The challenge in my voice was deliberate. It was as though I was daring him to question me further, to see how far he could push before realizing I was not as naive as he thought. He probably believed my family kept me in some sort of bubble, away from the truths of the world, but nothing could be further from the truth. "Two more questions. Pay attention. About 2,978 years ago, the first book ever written by a Maximillianian citizen was published. What was the book about? And who was the writer?" His next set of questions was unexpected, but I welcomed the challenge. This was the kind of question that could test a person's true knowledge of the Kingdom's history, and I was more than ready for it.
"It was written by a woman who had to pretend to be a man just to have her work published. You see, back then, the people were so narrow-minded and rigid in their beliefs, thinking that a woman's place was to be subjugated by men, to be nothing more than a machine for bearing children. It was a time when women had no real rights, no voice. But this woman, determined to be heard, wrote under the pen name Micheil MacCuinnleis. Her real name was Màiri Matharnach. The book she wrote was a romance called A Love for Saoirse. It told the story of Duke Brion Breaslain, a man who had been betrothed to a noble lady since birth, but he fell in love with a peasant girl named Saoirse Lochlainn. Saoirse was kind and beautiful, but she did not love him back, and that, in turn, made him fall for her even more," I said, my tone softening as I recalled the book's story. It had been the first book I ever read, a gift from Avy on my fifth birthday, and it had been my favorite ever since.
I had read that book countless times, to the point where I knew every word, every sentence, by heart. It wasn't just a story to me; it was a symbol of everything that had been denied to women of that time, a representation of the strength and determination of someone who would not be silenced. "I'm surprised you know this, too," he said, his tone shifting slightly.
"I'm glad I was able to surprise you, Your Royal Highness," I replied, my voice polite but laced with a subtle sarcasm. I couldn't help myself. He seemed to think he had caught me off guard, but in reality, this was my favorite book. How could I not know everything about it?
His response seemed to indicate some frustration, a hint of annoyance that I knew so much about the history and literature of the Kingdom. It amused me, watching as he struggled to hide his irritation. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing I was getting under his skin.
"What are the oracles?" His tone shifted once more, becoming more serious. This was the question I had been expecting, the one I knew was coming. It wasn't just a simple question like the others. This one had depth, had meaning, had weight. It was a question tied to the mysteries of the world, to the very foundation of our beliefs and customs. And it was one I had been preparing for.
I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. The oracles were a subject wrapped in secrecy, and it was a topic that required careful consideration. It was a question I had been dreading to answer, but I knew I couldn't avoid it forever. It was the trickiest question possible.