On the way, no one seemed to pay attention to him, whereas twenty years earlier, half of the passersby would have greeted him.
The streets were filled only with human beings: the atmosphere was quite different from that in Genib. People appeared far less tense, more carefree. Their faces did not bear the murderous pressure that the neighboring kingdom's inhabitants wore daily. Where everyone there needed to be on guard, here no one had to be wary. With every step, Ogai felt as though he was once again walking the path of honor and glory. And with his son by his side, his lineage seemed to follow a similar path.
Suddenly, a group of youngsters snapped him out of his daydreams. They were being chased by a merchant wearing a blood-stained apron, shouting vehemently. The group passed very close to Ogai and Riga. One of them bumped into Riga, or perhaps Riga bumped into him. Both men turned around at the same time, glaring at each other with accusatory looks. The young fugitive couldn't believe he was being challenged by a man like this. In fact, contrary to the usual street instincts of reacting and striking back immediately, he was momentarily paralyzed and stunned. Riga's expression, his gaze, and physique froze him in his tracks. He could clearly read resentment in Riga's eyes, even though he didn't know him and, worse, it was the first time he had ever seen him.
At that moment, Ogai noticed something striking: this young man had eyes like Riga's… but of a different color. The young man, seemingly confident and full of arrogance, stepped towards the Genibian with heavy steps. He stopped right in front of the stranger. Suddenly, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab a weapon but pulled out a ripe apple instead and bit into it with gusto. He chewed crudely, spitting bits out as if to provoke his opponent.
"Is there a problem, carbon-head?" he said between bites.
"No!" Riga immediately retorted. "And you, starveling? Would you like some stale bread and dwarf piss for your meal with your thieves? I saw that you already had some rotten dog meat to put on your plates!"
The young boy was so stunned by Riga's sharp response that he only managed a grunt. As for Ogai, he didn't know his son to be so verbally adept. And the aggressiveness with which he had responded marked resentment… as if he knew him, as if they knew each other. But there was no time to engage in the young thief's way of speaking – street fighting – because the merchant was already upon the fugitives. The thief snorted in contempt, turned around, and ran off as fast as he could.
A few seconds later, an apple core flew into the air and landed on the head of a man shopping nearby.
Ogai watched him leave, thinking he looked a lot like Riga. He allowed himself to dream that his son Saif was still alive since, as Asagoro had said, his body had never been found. Well…
"Where did you learn to talk like that? It's the first time I've heard you respond that way!"
"That man," Riga replied, "I didn't like the look on his face, which is why I couldn't let him insult me without replying."
"Ah, I see…"
Ogai had a hard time understanding what his young son found displeasing, nor could he comprehend where he had learned to use such language. At times, Riga truly surprised him with reactions as unpredictable as they were unusual, as violent as they were brief. Did he still have secrets to reveal? In itself, it wasn't very telling, but putting all the puzzle pieces together could well produce a son he would call by another name.
"Tell King Ragan that Ogai is here to speak with him!"
Asagoro had spread the news of Ogai's return like wildfire. Many Arcadians wondered why he had reappeared and whether it was even true. No one had heard of him for so long. In fact, they expected more to see his ghost than a man of flesh and blood. But if Ogai had truly returned, what was going to happen? People discussed it at every street corner:
"Did you hear? They say Ogai is back! He disappeared twenty years ago, and now he shows up as if nothing happened!"
"But why did he come back?"
"I don't know. In any case, Ragan is going to have quite the reaction when he sees him!"
"That's for sure!"
Everyone in Arcadia knew that the king did not like him.
Ragan, like many rulers of his era, was full of himself, selfish, egotistical. He wanted to command respect through submission, to be a superior being of sorts who accepted offerings but refused to grant favors.
Every year, he levied a special tax to fund the construction of statues and monuments in his likeness. He considered such acts an unconditional duty of the people.
To add to his greed, he was also a megalomaniac and did not hesitate to organize lavish banquets to impress the wealthy lords of the kingdom, even if it meant starving his own citizens who lived on the outskirts of the realm. Indeed, if there was one category of people he utterly disregarded, it was the common folk, for he despised the poor and the laborers. Such words were not part of his vocabulary as he had only very rarely stepped outside the confines of his royal domain. Moreover, he loathed orphans above all, believing they corrupted his kingdom. On one of his rare outings, a poor street child grabbed him to ask for food. The king proudly raised his chin, pulled his cloak away with a sharp gesture, and pushed the boy away with his foot – for his fine garment had been soiled. Additionally, for the first time in his reign, he felt fear. He suddenly realized that being close to his subjects carried the risk of being physically attacked. Fortunately, it was just a child, but an adult could have seriously injured him. From that day on, he ordered his guards to chase them away. At first, the children took it as a game, but when they saw what happened to those who were caught and how they were beaten, they understood that it was more a matter of life and death.
No, he had never gone out to meet the people, his people. His advisors had tried to make him understand that, in exchange for bread, the street urchins would gladly accept words or even his presence. These beings, whom he saw as animals, inspired only the deepest disgust in him. Oh no! He could not bear them and even less stand to see them. Any poor peasant who dared to complain about poor harvests was driven away one after the other like riffraff. He did not care. They could knock on his door as much as they wanted; they always left rejected.
At the same time, he also hated good, altruistic, and generous men. He did not recognize himself in these qualities, which he saw as signs of extreme weakness. A king was not compassionate, ready to bow down to help the poor and needy. No, a king was an august figure, rich, proud, and powerful, tasked with passing on a satisfying legacy to his descendants or successors. This was the definition of a sovereign for him. To this definition, he boldly added a touch of cruelty and a handful of opportunism. The people were to do everything for him, not the other way around; his mere presence should be enough to alleviate all their woes.
Fortunately, the hardworking inhabitants of the kingdom, eager to enjoy the same pleasures as the wealthy, managed to get by quite well. As a result, there were not as many malcontents as one might think, as most secured a radiant daily life for themselves.
As for those who still faced serious problems or minor troubles that the king never bothered to address, they ended up going to the Brotherhood of the Buttercup. One by one, whether rich or poor, men or women, they all sought out Ogai.
But what did it mean to turn to a famous stranger rather than him, the king? He wanted to be the only one people turned to. And what did he think when this man was praised even in his own court? People spoke more of Ogai than of Ragan, and in a positive light at that. This, he could not tolerate for long...
Regardless, rumors were swirling about the possible return of the mercenary leader. Revenge? Allegiance? No Arcadian knew for sure.
"Ogai? You're alive?"
Ragan's face was gaunt, despite spending more time in front of sumptuous dishes than in an training hall. His shoulders were oddly thin, especially compared to his bulging stomach. A thick, unkempt gray beard contrasted with the immaculate grooming of his hair, upon which rested a golden crown encrusted with precious stones. His sneering, arrogant expression, his shifty eyes, his lazy speech – apart from his chest, which he kept upright, nothing about him evoked royal stature.
However, the hall where he sat lazily was fitting for his title: perched on a dais covered in burgundy velvet tapestries, the sumptuous blue royal throne, adorned with golden peonies, stood under a majestic canopy of the same color. A series of three gigantic chandeliers, each holding fifty candles, hung from the magnificent coffered ceiling gilded with gold. By placing the precious metal eight meters above the floor, Ragan aimed to limit theft attempts during his absence or sleep. The luxurious red carpet covering the floor muffled footsteps as stealthily as a cat's.
"But where have you been all this time?"
"My king, " Ogai said tersely but without bowing. "I was in Genib for many years."
"In Genib?" he asked with a hint of irony.
The wicked king burst into laughter and started slapping the armrest of his throne with the palm of his hand.
"Come on... You would have killed Ryuku and crossed the Rassan pass? Explain yourself, Ogai, I beg you..."
"Venitia brought me back to Arcadia," Ogai replied in a curt tone.
"Venitia?"
"Yes, she called me here to help you solve the riddle of the Black Moon."
"How considerate of her! I had forgotten that a benevolent fairy protected the kingdom."
He glanced at his advisors before addressing them.
"Did you hear that? We are saved! Venitia will save us! How kind of her, but I do not need her help. Go, Ogai! You can return to Genib now that you've completed your mission."
That said, he burst into a sordid laugh, clutching his belly, full of pride at his own remark. His subjects did the same, mimicking their sovereign's every move.
What a foolish and vain king! thought Ogai. His annoyance made him frown. But he did not stop there:
"What will happen if you fail to contain the disease? Let me tell you: your authority will be challenged, and you might face uprisings, even riots."
He sighed, pouting.
"I ask for nothing in return because it is my duty to help the Arcadians; I have always done so. I came to you without any hidden motives, but it seems you do not need my help, so I might as well take my leave..."
He turned his back and was about to leave when Ragan, suddenly serious, called out to him:
"Wait, Ogai! I see you haven't lost your sharpness. You are right, and it is true that this riddle troubles me greatly."
The sovereign stroked the hairs of his beard as he gazed at the golden ceiling. He stood up and began to pace grandly in the throne room.
"It strikes at random, and whoever is affected cannot escape certain death. We do not know how it came to be, nor do we know what determines its targets. What more can I tell you? They say that witch Andora spread it. I don't know how. She must be as powerful as she is hideous!"
"It seems that the source of this evil lies in the Arubi Forest, specifically in Eirin's Cavern," Ogai interjected, finding the king's words only slightly enlightening.
"Eirin's Cavern?" the king repeated with a hint of irony. "You know very well that no one knows where it is. Only Pegasus can lead the way, but he is nowhere to be found. Besides, no one dares enter the Arubi Forest... Since time immemorial, our ancestors have said that nothing and no one can come out, not even a fox."
Ogai was not discouraged. He had an idea in mind. Ragan continued:
"Some claim to see a unicorn from time to time, but as soon as they see it, it vanishes..."
"It's the female of Pegasus."
Both paused and stared into each other's eyes: twenty years ago, even though they had never fought, they were rivals. Today, Ogai had no use for that past resentment. But he knew he could not fully trust the sovereign, who could very well stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Ragan, on the other hand, was deeply troubled by his return. He kept muttering under his breath – almost loud enough to be heard – "You sewer rat... Why have you come back to my kingdom?"
"Hmm..." Ogai mused. "Would you know where Shiro is? And I'll need the help of a good shepherd. If you could have them sent to the Coral, that's my home on the edge of the forest."
"I know neither Shiro nor a shepherd, but you will have them in front of your house by tomorrow."
Of course, Ogai thought with a grimace, to you the kingdom only consists of one person: yourself. You know only yourself, see only yourself, live only for yourself. What a good king…
"Very well," he finally said, taking his leave of the sovereign. "I'll be waiting for them."
Riga had been waiting for him in the vestibule, gazing out of a window overlooking the kingdom's streets. A guard on duty watched him with a wary eye, wondering what could so captivate the young man. When Ogai returned, they left the castle grounds and plunged back into the bustling Arcadian noise.
"That was quite brief," Riga remarked.
"In truth," Ogai admitted, "I had nothing to say to him. I simply needed to see him to assure him of my sincerity. That's all."
In the street, Riga glanced in all directions, his eyes wide like a moonfish. He kept exclaiming, truly delighted by the uniformity that reigned there, having never been used to the presence of only humans.
On the other hand, he was slightly disappointed that, unlike him, no one paid him the slightest attention. Except for that insignificant detail, his enthusiasm remained intact. He skipped like a flea, clapping his hands and praising God for granting him the privilege that even the queen of Genib did not have: seeing the scorned faces of the Arcadians.
"Dad!"
"Yes?"
"Are there only humans in Arcadia?"
"Exactly. There is nothing but humans in Arcadia. That is the big difference from Genib. But you know, long ago, before you were born, the barbarians tried to settle here."
"Really?"
"Yes. Dwarves, ogres. All sorts. But the kingdom's inhabitants drove them back beyond the Rassan pass."
Riga looked straight ahead, eyes sparkling, and trotted alongside his father.
"Leave me!"
When he was alone in the throne room, with only drawn curtains, still banners, and the slanting rays of the sun as his companions, Ragan could not suppress a burst of mad laughter. Madness and wickedness were clearly etched on the face of the corrupted sovereign.