I am Dumb and Overly Arrogant

"What is a Demiurge?" Korou demanded as he took a handful of Chaak—rice with Ngari—dry fish and Eromba—mashed vegetables.

"Don't talk while eating." Anemone, his mother cast a glare.

"Who mentioned them to you?" Nongyak, his father, paused and nudged.

"Atla did. Something about them being enemies to everything living." Korou recited her words. "But what are they?"

His father pursed his lips deep in thought. Korou could almost see a vein pop over his forehead as his father tried to simplify whatever he knew.

Finally, Nongyak started.

"Imagine evil, and then imagine muddy but red, then put it together. You get Demiurge."

"That doesn't make sense at all." Korou bellowed at his father's absurdity. The time taken seemed like he was trying to describe how they looked. But Korou didn't want that; he wanted to know what they were, biologically and politically.

"It's just a beast with miasma." Nongyak quickly retreated.

"Miasma, huh? What is that?" Another jargon, that the world was keen on throwing at him without prior explanation. Korou held back the urge to scowl.

"You don't know..." Nongyak fidgeted with his rice. "Err, I mean it's life source but-"

Thump.

The erum floor shook under his mother's fist. Illuminated by the hearth, her face gave an eerie feeling; no, it was terror.

"Another word," Anemone said gently, each word ghastly. "And you two are sleeping outside."

That brought an end to their conversation.

It wasn't until the last afternoon before his classes began that Atla could take time from her training to accompany Korou to the Bazaar. The path from the paddy fields curved into the gently sloped hillock. It was perched between them and a bustling mercantile avenue. The breeze swept up the grass, making it sway. Over the edge were billowing petals of magenta-Singare, a trumpet-shaped flower.

Korou was clad in his indigo-tinted, vermillion-patterned hunting jacket. His sleeves were rolled up as he held his jute satchel.

"Are we buying books?" Korou paused after his inquiry. He was aware of the state of printed books in this vicinity; if it were so easily accessible, he would be drowning in them now. Thus, the Bazzar possessing them was an intellectually inept question.

He heaved a sigh and shook his head. "There are no books in the Bazaar."

Atla tucked her loose strand and swirled, her fingers held the bamboo sword in place. With a pause, her beads shook, and there was a gentle click. She was still in her cyan Chuba; Korou knew its significance. She was a third-year student in the Monastery system and a second-ranked warrior in her class. Divergent from others, her path led beyond this village. That uniform, despite its hassle, was the symbol of her dedication towards her vocation.

"Yes and no." She stuck out her tongue and gave a wink.

"Why the tease?" Korou was confused, but Atla only skipped in glee.

She giggled in response and increased her pace.

"Did something nice happen?"

"You think?"

"That might explain your joy."

"I had a draw against Laishram." Atla chimed with joy. "This is the first time I could. Even your father praised me."

"That's...wow, that's amazing," Korou replied, astonished.

Among the students in the warrior path, Laishram, the younger brother of Khamba- Champion of the Yaoshang, second-born son of the village chief, was the talk of the ring. Everyone praised his rigour and the technique he embodied despite his age. Proficient in both freehand: Sarit Sarak and weapon: Thanga-Ta martial arts. He was undoubtedly the most prodigious warrior trainee to grace this village after his brother.

"Isn't it?" She skipped again, her silver locks bobbed with her. "Now, if I can only beat him in the next term, I will finally take the first rank for myself."

"I would love to see that happen," Korou replied earnestly. "But, I would also prefer you take your basic studies seriously, as well."

"I am." She replied with a pout. "I am not as smart as you, but I have done most of the readings Athongba Yaiphabi assigned me."

"I wish you would share them." Korou sighed.

He had spent hours listening to Atla recite the long-winded history of Lamphi and its Shamans, which also included basic customs of the tribe, classical tales of Kangleipak and basic principles of Shamaism. Every topic was as interesting; however, he could never experience them. Atla wasn't allowed to carry the tomes and scrolls; he wasn't enrolled to get them himself.

"I wish I could," Atla nodded in agreement. "It would help me learn faster. You are smart, so having you as a tutor would make the difference."

"Have some dignity," He retorted. "You are older than me, shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Maybe I can get them..." Her lips were pursed as she gazed at the horizon, deep in thought. Korou was utterly ignored. "But sneaking text beyond the Monastery gates can lead to expulsion..."

"What about your Grandma's personal archive?"

Atla's brow twitched as she cast him a glare.

"I was trying to help." Korou offered.

"If the head archivist in the Sanctorum is a devil, then my Grandmother is her tyrannical ruler," Atla pronounced with finality.

"Surely she isn't that bad?" Korou tried to be the optimistic one.

"The only books you can get are the ones she wants you to read; that is paramount. No questions asked."

"People here are too secretive." Korou folded his arms with a scowl. "Knowledge and education should never be confined by constructs of society; this is blasphemous."

"There you go, acting smart again."

"Uhhh, I meant just let the education be free."

"You can pledge that in front of the council." She suggested.

"In time, I just might."

With the Yaoshang festival concluding only a week prior, the pebbled paved avenue buzzed with people; humans and other races alike. There were bamboo kiosks, food carts and textile stalls all arranged asymmetrically. Even the clothes were vibrant. Each exemplified a culture beyond his own.

On his peripheral were winged Avians, they spoke with a chirp, dressed in an oversized tunic with the back open for their wings. There were others, elves, Felines, Canids, all selling their own goods.

Korou was interested in their conversation, gently gliding towards their side, only for Atla to hold him by the collar.

"No." She commanded.

He obliged.

They entered the last shop of the avenue, its gabled roof creaked, as the counter was tattered with holes. Beyond it sat a woman, her glass-covered eyes peeling from an ink-smeared paper, as Atla waved.

"Two Chubas for the boy here." She rapped over the counter. "Also, a pair of slates and three sets of chalks."

"They don't give us paper?"

"I told you they don’t," Atla uttered in a hushed tone. "Slates for the first two years, paper copies for the third year onwards."

"Blasphemous."

"Economical." The shopkeeper stepped into the sunlight, her grey hair rippling with a sheen. However, what Korou found interesting was the felinic purr she released with every sentence. "Is that the boy Naobi won't shut up about?"

"Head priestess talks about me?" Korou asked with a flushed face.

"Pretty much," The Feline shopkeeper yawned with a faint purr. "She calls you lazy and arrogant."

"Huh?" Korou grabbed Atla's shoulders. "Your grandma hates me?"

"No," Atla shook her head. "She just loves to be right."

He later learnt the shop lady's name was Thāngbi, and she was Naobi's childhood friend. Not that he cared, but Atla won't shut up about it.

"How much for it?" Korou queried, stuffing the items within his satchel.

"It's free." Thāngbi scratched her felinic ears, releasing a content purr. "The monastery believes in education for all, something about fundamental rights, decree of the Imperial court, " She waved the paper in her hands. "Though they are also discussing raising taxes soon."

"Wait, wait, wait," Korou jumped, trying to scale the counter. "You have a newspaper."

"That's what you found surprising!" Atla exclaimed, holding her by the shoulders.

"You don't get it, dumb warrior, it's a newspaper, the newspaper, do you know how much I can learn from that?!"

"It's a month old," She passed it onto him. "And in Central Ukiyan lon, I hardly doubt you can read it."

Korou snatched it in a perfect arc, his eyes scanning the single sheet of column and tiny fonts. He squinted his eyes; the script was akin to English of the previous world but had curved extensions, some even crescent with a roundish roof.

"You can read it?" Atla peeked from behind his shoulders.

"Yes." He lied.

"What does it say?"

"I am dumb and overly arrogant."