It seems I'm just a third wheel here. I should probably leave now.
Plus, I get the sense that asking these two isn't going to get me the information I want, so it's not like I'm cutting our conversation short, is it? No, I mean it.
At any rate, I thanked them and left.
I walked around both the Eastern and Western parts of town for as long as time would permit in the hopes of finding some information.
However, the longer I walked, the stranger it got. I hadn't been able to tell because there were so few people out in the morning, but in the afternoon when the streets were full, there were so many people crossing the bridge that it was like there was no clear division at all.
Even stranger, despite their own signs reading WE CANNOT SELL TO MEMBERS OF THE RICE FACTION, the bread stalls were brazenly handing over their goods to people in Eastern clothing.
It wasn't only the stalls; every store in town seemed to have a regulation in place, from the dry goods store to the greengrocer to any number of others. They all had signs on display prohibiting service to customers who came from the opposite side of town.
However, everyone ignored them. The signs had absolutely no purpose.
Returning to East Town from West Town, I parted the curtain of a dumpling shop.
"Welcome. What will you have?"
I sat down in a chair, and a young woman dressed in Eastern clothes crouched before me. I pointed to the sign outside that said WE CANNOT SELL TO MEMBERS OF THE BREAD FACTION, and said, "I'm a bread eater."
"Is that a joke?" The waitress covered her mouth politely with one hand and giggled.
"A joke?"
She smiled up at me and said, "No one pays any attention to those decorations!"
Of course. I can see that just by observing the state of the town.
But what's the point of the signs, then?
"Your order?"
"Oh, I'll have three sweet-soy-glazed rice dumplings, please."
"Coming right up."
Still feeling uneasy, I hunted for an inn on the Western side of town.
There are lodgings on the Eastern side, too, but I can't stay over there. I can't sleep unless I'm in a proper bed. Or maybe I just have a harder time adjusting to Eastern-style rooms. I'm not the biggest fan of walking barefoot on straw mats.
I walked around and around the town, then went into the cheapestlooking inn. It had a sign out front that read WE DECLINE THE PATRONAGE OF MEMBERS OF THE RICE FACTION. Well, let's just ignore that.
"Evenin'." When I entered, the indifferent-looking innkeeper was resting his chin in his hands over at the counter.
"One night's stay, please," I said, taking out a silver coin.
"Thank ya. Go on and fill out the form."
"Sure."
I was already used to these forms. I finished filling it out with a series of quick pen strokes. As I handed the completed form over to the innkeeper, I asked him, "If you don't mind, could I ask you to tell me a bit about this place?"
"…Haven't seen ya 'round here before, ma'am. You a traveler?"
"Yes. And this land is so strange I can hardly wrap my brain around it."
The innkeeper was quiet for a moment, then said, "Whaddaya wanna know?"
Oh, he gets it. As one would expect from a person who regularly does business with travelers.
"All right, tell me the reason why West Town and East Town are so different from each other."
The innkeeper finally gave me the information I had been craving.
"Back in the day, this land was two neighboring countries that straddled the canal. The country on the east side had inherited an Eastern culture, and the country on the west side a Western one. Each country had its own king. The two kings got along well, and there was a great relationship between the countries—well, it wasn't all that different from how it is now."
"Mm-hmm." Simple enough.
"One day, the two kings got to talkin'. They said, 'Why not make the two countries into one?' No one had any gripes about it since West and East both wanted the same thing. Actually, it felt like the decision was long overdue."
"Was that when the bridges between the two towns were built?"
The innkeeper nodded. "Yep. The kings built those to commemorate the merger."
"I see." That must be why they're so new and out of place.
"A while after that, the two kings each had a child. The king on the Western side had a daughter, and the king on the Eastern side had a son. The kids got along just like their fathers, and eventually got married. They built a palace right off the canal—in the exact middle of the united country—and started living there. Now the two of them have become a symbol of our land. And that's about all I know," the innkeeper said, placing the key for my room on the counter.
I took it and said, "Thank you very much. By the way, mister, can I ask you one more thing?"
"What's that?"
I told him about the strange question I had been asked when I entered the country, and about the weird signs by the gate and in front of the stores, and about the couple I had met on the bridge. "At first, I thought the country was divided internally, but looking around me, it seems like people don't pay any attention to the signs at all.
They cross the bridges and intermingle just fine. So what's the point of having the signboards at all?"
The innkeeper listened quietly as I spoke and nodded when I was finished. "Mm. Those signs are in preparation for the big match."
He said it so matter-of-factly, I wondered if I'd misheard. "Big match? What on earth does that mean?"
"I hear they want to unify the country under either Eastern or Western culture. Well, that's why the gate guards are asking strange questions anyway, and it's the reason for the signs."
Perhaps after this country was merged under the good auspices of the kings of the previous generation, there's a movement to split them apart again. But why?
"Those two don't know the meaning of the word compromise," the innkeeper said with a laugh.
Incidentally, he charged me an "information fee" after the fact.