A castle built on gems

The girl in her dreams was smiling at her, as always, but that time the upper half of her face wasn’t shadowed for the first time ever and Opal could actually see all of her features: the girl’s eyes were a soft shade of lilac, mesmerising, but also so sad in the way they looked at her and at the world, while her face, despite being a young woman’s one, maybe in her twenties or even a tad bit younger, seemed to display some light age wrinkles that normally wouldn’t have found their place there, as if she had taken the burden of events that went beyond her years. What had happened in her life? Opal would’ve wanted to ask her something, but everything started becoming blurrier and blurrier by the second. She knew what that meant: that night, too, her time was up.

Opal woke up, feeling groggy. At first, she didn’t remember where she was and began to blindly search for her phone or one of her stuffed animals, following a deep-seated habit, but when she didn’t find either of them she became more alert and, after realising that wasn’t her bedroom, she stopped, her arm slumping and all the memories of the previous day washing over her. In that moment, she found herself wishing that had been a dream, and not the girl. She sighed, disappointed, and then reluctantly got up, all the while grumbling to herself, deciding that with all the thoughts and worries circling in her head she wouldn’t have rested anyway.

The first thing she did after that was opening the curtains – it didn’t seem late, so her biological clock had probably done its job for once – and looking in the full-length mirror to assess the damage and conditions of her clothing: her school uniform, formed by a simple long-sleeved white shirt, a checkered pink and blue tie, a yellow vest and blue trousers, was more creases than fabric at that point and had obviously seen better days, but it could’ve been worse, counting everything that had happened not even in the last twenty-four hours. Now, it was true that she could’ve easily not slept in her uniform, but it was the only thing she had left from her world, apart from her memories, and she didn’t want to separate from it: in that moment, she needed all the comfort she could get. Thinking about that, she teared up a little, her expression crumpling and her hands clenching the fabric of her pants. Having left her school bag on the bench in the church, she didn’t even have her phone, her documents or her books. Would have someone gone there and found her belongings? What would have they thought? She shook her head before she could actually start spiralling, closing her eyes and slapping herself on the cheeks, a habit she had adopted from one of her favourite characters in one of her favourite series. She looked herself in the eyes – which had always been the physical trait she liked more about herself, with their light grey colour and iridescent effect – and determinedly, albeit silently, vowed to return to her world: she would’ve seen her parents, her family and her friends again, even if she had to travel that whole world to find a way.

Satisfied and with newfound energy, she smiled, beginning to straighten the creases in her clothes at the best of her abilities. Her short and wavy blue hair was kind of messy, but it was a cool kind of messy, so it was fine. With a pang, she recalled Toshiko commenting on it – it was just the previous day, even though it felt like a small eternity before –, but she forced herself not to be sad, reminding herself of her promise.

After she deemed herself presentable enough, she went downstairs to have breakfast, as she had done the previous evening with dinner. She was already thinking about what she could’ve done in the morning not to get bored to death, since she didn’t know for how long she should’ve waited, but, apparently, the answer was “not long at all”, for the same knight from the other day arrived promptly in his polished armour right when she was finishing drinking her mug of milk, sugar and what they called “kahffèe” – she hadn’t thought about it until that morning, but, at the very least, she had been very lucky if that word was part of the only differences there were between their languages –. They had some sort of staring contest for a few embarrassing seconds, him on the threshold and her with her mug, but then she put down her drink and he spoke.

“I… apologise.” He frowned. “Am I early?”

She glanced at what was left of her morning milk. “… No, what makes you even think something like that.”

His frown deepened, as if he wasn’t built for humour. “But-”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, she chugged the last of her drink in one swift motion, like one of those characters with a tankard of beer at the bar counter, and put the mug back on the table, standing up afterwards. “I’m ready to go.” The only good thing about having arrived all of a sudden from another world was that she didn’t have to return to her room and pack or anything.

He seemed to be a bit taken aback, but quickly hid that behind a mask of professionalism. She briefly wondered if all knights were like that – and, in that case, kudos to the Knight Academy or whatever other institution it was that knighted them, she guessed – or if he was just particularly committed to the role. “… I see. In that case, please follow me.”

She gave the key of her temporary room back to the inn owner and then they were out. “So, where are we going?”

“At the royal palace.”

She did a double take, looking at him in shock. “Wait, what? Are you actually serious?” Silly her, he wouldn’t know what ‘funny’ meant if it hit him with a truck. “Didn’t you have to show me to ‘more appropriate lodgings’ or whatever?”

“The royal palace is a more suitable accommodation. You are, after all, our new Saviour.”

“Still, it’s the royal palace-”

“Besides, the king wished to meet you.”

“The what now?”

“The king, His Majesty Chrysoprase the Third of Kristallia.”

“And you want me to meet the actual king?”

“No, the king wants to meet you, I am only following orders.”

Figures. She wasn’t ready to meet the king, or any royal of any realm for that matter, without even getting to know well in advance – she supposed it was better than discovering it on the spot, but still –. She was just… herself, Opal Niji, a high school girl with a wrinkled uniform and way too many interests. She was no saviour, nor saintess. At the very least, however, she would’ve had some answers to a few of her questions. Probably.

Possibly.

… Hopefully.

After having taken wider and wider roads, they arrived at a point where there were no shops or houses anymore, having been replaced with marble statues and sculptures adorned with gems and precious stones of all colours. Finally, at the end of one of those wide roads, stood what had to be the royal palace, utterly majestic in all its luminous glory. It was similar to a medieval European castle, with its fortifications, towers and turrets, and, like the rest of the city, it was a riot of marble and stained glasses. There was a gatehouse as entrance, surrounded by curtain walls, and both were surmounted by battlements and constellated with arrowslits, but inside there was another set of walls and towers. Getting near it was even more like entering a fairy tale, but Opal imagined that it wasn’t all that far from the truth, despite that being her new and confusing reality.

They were admitted inside the castle without a fuss, thanks to the knight’s presence, and walking down the hallways was like visiting an art gallery, since there were a lot of paintings hanging on the walls and statues and sculptures at every corner. The floor was paved with stones of different shades of blue and on the ceiling were hung crystal chandeliers: there didn’t seem to be candles or anything like that, so maybe the glass shone like the stones that she saw the people in the city doing magic with the previous day.

She was craning her head so much, with her nose in the air, to look at every little detail that she very nearly bumped into the knight, who had stopped abruptly in his tracks.

“Hey, don’t do that!” she exclaimed, taking a few steps back and noticing that they were now standing in front of a wide and ornate entrance.

The knight glanced at her. “We have arrived, please adopt a respectful behaviour in front of the king.”

Did he think she was some kind of kid, or fool? Arguably, she hadn’t given him many reasons to believe the contrary, but she didn’t want to risk getting punished just because of her conduct, so she would’ve been on her best behaviour. She had seen TV series and documentaries and she had read books, she could do it. “Sure, man” she said with an eye-roll.

He didn’t seem all that convinced, if that dubious look was any indicator, but he didn’t have much of a choice either, for the doors started opening.

“Announcing Sir Petrus, Knight Officer of the fourth class, and the Second Coming of the Saintess.”