Once more Unto the Breach - XXVIII

The road is long and cold. As expected, sitting in a crate and waiting for time to pass is hardly a pleasant experience. Least of all, when in a moving wagon.

The sound of wheels on ice rolls on and on and on.

I lie flat against the wooden bottom, trying to make myself comfortable. The wool blanket over me offers some warmth, so at least I won’t freeze to death. Even if it is paper-thin and possibly ridden with fleas.

“Munaku. Are you cold?”

“Not really.”

I straighten myself and push against the lid of my crate. The inside of our wagon is a tunnel. Light pokes through a narrow slit in the curtains. While a dozen boxes and crates sit inside the wagon, being transported to our next location.

Munaku pokes her head from the box next to me. Her face is as lively as ever. Though, if I’m not mistaken, a slight bit nauseous.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” I ask.

“I’m fine. Honestly.” She feels the fur on her greatcoat, as if suggesting it’s enough. “Though I do feel like hurling breakfast up.”

“I warned you against eating so much.”

“I know. But it seemed like the last time I’d get to actually eat food, as opposed to hard cheese, and whatever mouldy bread you carry.”

“I hope you learned your lesson against slighting the god of cheese.”

“I did.” She looks around. “Hey. Do you think I can just step outside and vomit a little?”

“We’re nearly there, Munaku.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m old, and wizened, and have travelled longer than you’ve been alive,” I say, considering the situation. “I’ve been on this route before. I know the general speed of a caravan.”

“So how long do we have left?”

“About an hour, I’d say.”

Munaku lightly groans before sitting on the crate’s edge. Swinging her legs as she does.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“I have a question. Well, sort of. Did you ever figure out who hired Gemona, specifically? I heard it was some governor, right?”

“According to her, it was indeed, ‘some governor’.”

“Is it the same governor who wrote that you should meet Prince Jasi in the first place?”

“It’s hard to say,” I answer, honestly. “The initial letter was penned by him, I’m sure. I can recognise the governor’s handwriting anywhere. But Gemona may have been lying about being hired by him. It may have been a ruse, to rile me up, and inflict pain upon me.”

“You think so? I thought Gemona was pretty honest. Since she thought you’d die and all, I don’t imagine there’s much reason for her to lie.”

“You’re not wrong, Munaku. But even supposing she is telling the truth, there are a great many other factors to keep in mind.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“She may not have spoken to the governor directly. It could have been a middleman who told her it was the governor’s idea. Or… the governor could have spoken under duress. All it takes is a threat to one’s family to force a hand.”

Munaku sits on that crate, watching me, studying me for any changes in expression or body. To top it off, she does so completely still. Statue-still.

“I hope you didn’t like this governor very much.”

“I do.”

“Well, damn. Do, as in you still like him, huh?”

“We served together in many a war. He’s like a brother to me. And I’m an optimist at heart. So I’ll choose to believe this brother had reasons to do the things he did… if he did them at all.”

Munaku raises her head, half-grunting, and half-chuckling under her breath. “Well, we all have our own weaknesses, don’t we?”

“That we do.”

A short while passes in silence. A very short one. Perhaps no longer than the sum of three breaths, and a bit of staring into a nearby crate.

“Hey, Gamoun.”

“Yes, Munaku?”

“I was thinking about something you said. It was a few days ago, so I don’t even know if you remember. Since you know, you’re old and dying.”

A joke or two come to mind. A funny retort that would suit this occasion. I don’t use them, however, and instead just speak frankly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m thinking.” She keeps silent for a few seconds, then speaks up again. “Okay. Do you remember when you woke up? After the whole thing with Gemona, I mean.”

“Yes. I believe I woke staring at a ceiling.”

“Well you asked me something then. Before being interrupted by the local eight year old. You wanted to know… You wanted to know if I thought you were wrong. For doing everything you did that night.”

“Please give me a moment.”

I reflect on what I said that day. On what I’d asked of her. It takes a few moments, but it soon comes to mind.

“I think I remember,” I say, breaking the silence.

“Well, then, let me ask this just in case. Does it matter to you? Or should we just pretend it didn’t happen.”

I don’t recall the exact thing which triggered that question of mine, but the underlying reasons are clear enough.

“I’d say it’s a matter that deserves discussion,” I open. “Munaku, you’re my student. I think of you as the daughter I’ve never had, and like all good parents, I struggle. I want my children to be safe, while also wanting them to follow a path that grants them happiness. But it’s clear to me that following me, which you find satisfaction in, is also growing increasingly dangerous.”

“In which case, the question is whether you should make this path less dangerous, right? For my sake or something.”

“Yes.”

A cold breeze comes by.

A brief cold takes the wagon.

Munaku has her eyes on me the entire time.

Looking serious for the rare moments in her life.

“I think you’re fine just the way you are. I don’t like being told what to do very much, so I won’t ask you to do the same either. I’m not going to ask you to stab or twist the neck off whoever we come across next. That’s just unfair.”

“I understand,” I say.

“But well, at the same time, I think letting Gemona go was dumb in some ways. What if she killed someone when you let her live? In that case, the total number of deaths would be lower than if you just killed her, right? Or what about Alemi? Someone you let live ended up killing someone, so in the end, aren’t the number of deaths roughly equal? In a lot of ways, what you’re doing isn’t exactly reasonable… but I think you know that, right?”

I look at Munaku, agreeing. “I am rather unreasonable. You’re right on that, Munaku. I can confess that my… philosophy has gotten the better of me many times. But even so, it’s difficult for me to see any other way I should live.”

“Yeah. And, if you ask me, that’s just the way it should be.”

“How so?”

“I mean, nothing in life is reasonable, right? Obviously, there are bigger pieces of garbage than others. But in the end, we’re just fighting for things we happen to be born next to, and that we happen to like seeing. Isn’t that just the height of unreason?”

“That is… one way of looking at it.”

“Though, if you ask me…” Munaku smiles and raises a finger in subtle exclamation. “I’d say your way of being unreasonable is better than most others. I mean, putting your life on the line, fighting tooth and nail to save people you don’t even know… that’s pretty great, right? Sure, you run the risk of dying; sure, you run the risk of it not working out, but that’s the price of all dreams. Gemona. Alemi. Prince Jasi. I’m sure they all knew that, and even so, they still went at it, in the hope that it might just be for something.”

“You’re right, Munaku. I’m sure they did.”

“And, while I’m not a philosopher or anything, I think it’s fair to say everyone likes a good hero. After all, no one’s criticising you for saving others. They’re just criticising you because they think you killed someone. So… I guess what I’m trying to say is, just keep at it. I think it’s cool to see you do what you love.”

In spite of facing death head-on.

In spite of being put at risk.

My apprentice still encourages what I do, and does it with a smile all the same.

Knowing that, I can’t help but smile too, believing that for the time being, maybe my quest has some value after all.

Unreasonable as it is.

“Of course, if some asshole forces an ultimatum between me dying or you killing them. I’m expecting you to choose the former. Otherwise I’ll return from death and haunt you as a ghost, okay?”

“Eh, I’ve dealt with my fair share of ghosts, Munaku. I think I’ll manage.”

Munaku leans forward and throws a playful punch. I backflip out of the crate. Before taking the opportunity to walk to the wagon’s exit.

Sitting down at the end, and feeling the wind at my feet, I pull open the curtains.

There aren’t any other wagons here. Just the icy wasteland in one end, and what seems to be life in the other.

Not far away, a large vent of the Steam-Turtle protrudes from the ground, resembling a jagged, blue shell. Giving life to the land around it.

To the fields of crops.

To the herded livestock.

And to the blue, Ineo grass, seen only in areas around it.

All while a settlement sits in the distance, a small city called Kife, we plan to stop at.

After a short while, Munaku comes to sit by me, staring into the distance.

“Not to sound all poetic, but dreams are kinda like the large vents of the great Steam-Turtle, you know? Even if you can accidentally scald off your face while being next to one, they still have value in spite of that.”

“Thank you, Munaku.”

Her words cut deeply, reaching me to my very core.

Because even if they aren’t well-phrased or beautiful by any stretch of the imagination.

She still said it with her heart. And perhaps, that’s what counts.

Pursuing one’s ideal, even in the face of it all.