Trash
Jing and Ratel walked very slowly out of the forest path they had rushed through in a frenzy. Jing felt the warm body heat of the child on his back, calming his stiffened mind as he organized his thoughts. In all his life, Agoni Fidus had never once doubted the world he lived in. Whether wielding his sword across the Empire as the Duke of Fidus, or now, having defied their will, stepped down from his dukedom, and become the wandering Jing, he had never harbored a shred of doubt that the Imperial Family were the descendants of gods. No, was that true? Had there really not been even the slightest doubt? Or was there some mental block preventing him from even conceiving such a doubt?
"When I found this child floating on the water, I felt something strange within myself. It was something that completely overwhelmed mere bewilderment." When he first discovered the child's body in the Capital, when he was handed the book by the Elder in the depths of the Temple of Amica... when else had it been? Jing spoke slowly, tracing his memories. "Thinking back now, that wasn't the first time."
Ratel listened in silence as Jing, carrying the child on his back, calmly continued to speak.
"Do you remember when we were in the study with the Elder in Amica's Space? When that bastard... no, when his Eminence handed me the book, and even before then, I had similar experiences. The Elder told me it was a boundary I shouldn't cross just yet."
Feeling as though a thick fog had rolled into his mind, Jing shook his head to clear it before continuing. "You seem to know the answer. Am I right?"
Ratel did not lie. He gave a slow nod. "You are."
"Do you think I'm still not ready to hear it?" Jing could not be sure if he was making the right choice. His heart was still pounding, and an uncomfortable sense of dissonance clouded his mind. He had a powerful premonition that if he listened to Ratel's story now, he would never be able to live the way he used to, and the thought tangled his mind in knots.
Shhhring. But the spine-chilling sound that followed instantly snapped him back to reality.
"...What do you think you're doing?" Jing asked, his eyes locked onto the sword in Ratel's hand.
"Preparing for any unforeseen circumstances."
"No, what kind of 'unforeseen circumstance' requires you to draw a weapon when you're simply telling me something I asked to hear?!"
"If you don't like it, I can just keep my mouth shut. After all, I'm the one holding the sword."
Jing was the one who wanted answers, yet he was the one being threatened. Wasn't it usually the other way around? Though it was a bit late, Jing briefly fantasized about pressing a blade to the boy's throat and demanding he spill everything he knew. Ultimately, however, he raised one hand in a gesture of surrender, complying with Ratel's terms. He had to use his other hand to support the child on his back.
Ratel noted the position of Jing's hand before speaking. "Have you really never thought it was strange in all your life?"
Since finding anything not strange in his life lately had become an uphill battle, Jing scowled. "I've thought plenty of things were strange."
"I mean the Abaran Empire."
The Abaran Empire? As Jing's brow furrowed deeper in confusion, Ratel studied his face intently, as if searching for something, before continuing. "Everyone is loyal to the Imperial Family. There are more than a few who would end their own lives on the spot if ordered to do so."
"I would have been more surprised if you told me there were three moons in the sky. Did you cause all this tension just to state the obvious?" Despite Jing's blatant display of boredom, Ratel's expression remained entirely unchanged.
"Doesn't it strike you as odd? A nation where not a single proper rebellion has occurred in a thousand years. Have you really never thought something was wrong with that?"
What on earth was he talking about? Jing let out a hollow laugh, thinking the boy's words were utterly absurd given how tense they had both been. Over the past fifty years, the battles Jing had commanded were too numerous to count. How many rebels had he... fought... and killed...? Jing's breath hitched. Wait. Had there ever actually been anything that could truly be called a rebellion?
Ratel watched silently as Jing gasped and clutched his head. Jing struggled to steady his breathing, trying to calm his racing heart, entirely oblivious to the fact that Ratel had already lowered his sword. "That... that was only natural. Anyone who rebels against the gods is a traitor. And traitors... must all be executed..."
Looking down at Jing, who was muttering in disorganized confusion, Ratel asked again, "I am asking you, Jing, if there were ever actually people who raised their blades against the Imperial Family."
Breaking out in a cold sweat, Jing lifted his head. He squeezed out a painful answer. "No... there weren't. Not once."
As Jing's heavy head drooped, Ratel fully sheathed his sword. "This country is bizarre. It's like a puzzle perfectly constructed to suit someone's specific taste... and anyone who tries to disrupt it even slightly is erased."
Jing blankly let Ratel's murmured words wash over his mind. A desperate urge to shut Ratel up clashed violently with a voice telling him he needed to think this through. Unable to withstand the fierce conflict raging inside him, Jing closed his eyes. Through his fading vision, he caught a glimpse of those cold, golden eyes looking down at him.
What finally brought Jing back to consciousness was a dull pain and the sound of his body scraping against the hard ground and rough branches. He had thought he was floating, but as he realized he was actually being dragged along the dirt, his other senses slowly began to awaken. Jing turned his head to look at the owner of the hand gripping the scruff of his neck so ruthlessly. He also saw the child hanging over the boy's shoulder like a sack of luggage.
"...Do you know that? If I were any other old man, I would have died from that."
"If you're awake, get up and walk on your own two feet. You're not exactly light like other old men."
When Ratel let go, Jing's body slumped limply onto the ground. While it might have been Ratel who dropped him, it was the crushing weight on his chest that kept him from getting up.
"Get up. We've delayed far longer than expected. The others will start to find it suspicious soon."
"Give me a moment. You have an old man here whose entire life has been turned upside down twice in just a matter of months."
Ratel furrowed his brow at Jing's muttering. "I'm curious to know when the first time was."
"Someone beat you to the punch." A black-haired fellow, just like you, Jing muttered to himself as he stood up. "So, what do the priests of Amica want to do with the Abaran Empire? Do they want to overthrow it?"
"They never said those exact words. But they did teach me. They told me of a prophecy delivered by Amica a very long time ago. They said I am the master of that prophecy."
"I... to be completely honest, I still cannot believe it. To my eyes, they still look like gods, and defying their commands feels like a cardinal sin. And I believe the same is true for everyone else in the Empire. Are you saying you intend to wage war against the entire Empire all by yourself?"
"..." Ratel did not answer. Jing grew anxious, unable to fathom what was going through the boy's head.
"And though it's a bit late to say this, you mustn't speak of such things carelessly in front of others." Remembering how easily the boy had spilled everything just because he had been asked, Jing steered the conversation. "Within the Empire, you must choose your words, your audience, and your timing with utmost care."
"I did."
Come to think of it, he had. Jing recalled how thoroughly prepared the boy had been, holding a sword in one hand before confessing his secret.
"You didn't try to kill the child, Jing." Only after hearing Ratel's next words did Jing realize that what the boy had been filtering was neither his words nor the situation. He finally understood why Ratel had been watching his reactions with such obsessive intensity.
"You..."
"Mister?" Jing's words were cut short, drowned out by the whimpering of the waking child. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, Jing couldn't tell.
"Jing!" Young Jing greeted him warmly, his eyes darting between Jing and Ratel with a sly grin. "I take it you two made up?"
Whether the young man was incredibly perceptive or completely oblivious, Jing didn't bother to answer as the youth approached and whispered to him. He simply kept walking forward. He had received too great a shock; everything else had already been pushed to the back of his mind.
"There's nothing to make up. We never fought in the first place," Jing replied half-heartedly, attempting to step forward to return the child to the group. That is, until Ratel grabbed him by the shoulder.
While Jing hesitated for a moment, Young Jing stepped up beside him. He pointed a finger toward Ratel. "But why did you bring that piece of trash back with you?"
"What on earth are you talking about?" Jing quickly looked over at Ratel. For someone who had just been called a piece of trash, his expression was remarkably serene. Seeing him so unfazed actually made Jing feel a bit indignant on his behalf. While Jing had never for a single moment considered Ratel a good person, calling him trash seemed a bit... excessive, didn't it? He was slightly conflicted, but Jing had plenty of reasons to take Ratel's side now.
"Ratel might not be a saint, but he's hardly done anything to deserve being called trash."
"No one was calling me trash, Jing. You're the only one who took it that way." Jing's eyes widened at Ratel's response. Was there someone else here who had done something to deserve such an insult?
"Didn't you say it yourself, Jing? When sharing a secret, you have to choose your audience carefully." Ratel gestured with his chin toward the terrified child on Jing's back. "This brat failed to do that."
"What are you two whispering about? You're making me look foolish," Young Jing interjected, stepping right up to Ratel. Only then did Jing realize that the finger had been pointed not at Ratel, but at the child clinging to his shoulder.
"I'm talking about this piece of trash. The scum who dared to steal the power of the gods."
"Mister Jing..." the bewildered child whimpered, calling out to Young Jing, but the young man didn't even blink. "I'm certain we threw him in the river earlier, yet here he is, still breathing."
With a stiff, frozen face, Jing looked around. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the child. Not a single person looked away. Silently and coldly, they stared at the boy, gradually surrounding Ratel and the child. Their eyes burned with a murderous intent directed solely at the little one. Jing realized he was standing at yet another crossroads of choice.
"What do you mean?! Are you saying you won't give us food anymore?!" "It is for internal renovations," the man who had announced the closure replied with a scowl as the crowd began to rally behind the protester's shout. Ultimately, it meant they would no longer provide free rations as they had before. Slowly, the crowd began to disperse.
"Damn it. I stood here since dawn and couldn't even beg properly." "It's not like the nobles doing whatever they want is anything new. We're the only ones dying out here." For people who desperately needed someone to blame, there was no target more perfect than a noble family already cast aside by the Imperial Family.
"No wonder they were abandoned by the gods," someone muttered. Though they dispersed while casting furtive glances at one another, it was clear most of them shared the same sentiment. It was laughable. The one who had driven them onto the streets was someone else entirely, yet they directed their resentment toward those who merely failed to hand them food. It was an illogical, blind faith in the Imperial Family that went far beyond mere ignorance or foolishness.
"Damn it. I shouldn't have expected anything from such a filthy family." A grumbling man brushed past me. Regrettably, that was the norm. After all, this entire world had been constructed solely for the Imperial Family. Absolute belief, unchanging faith, and life-risking loyalty—these were the very roots that the people of the great Abaran Empire had been born with. If these roots were shaken, they could not endure. Their parents, and their parents' parents, and the generations before them had all lived this way. For a thousand years, they had been stripped of the ability to rebel, completely unaware of what they had lost. And the only person who could save them from this was the protagonist of this novel, Ratel.