Chapter 56 - 5-7
It is the great metropolis of Koroi, the capital of the entire south, a crossroads of the continent where the flow of all things gathers regardless of land or sea route, and one of the world's major cities—an ancient capital whose name appears even in myths.
While it exudes a scent of decadence and erosion, perhaps because its past prosperity was so transcendent, it is a city with an ecology that still seeks to expand into its surroundings on the aftershocks alone. The voices of prayer echo loudly from religious facilities morning and evening, and the fragrance of incense burned throughout the city covers the sky in dense, overlapping layers. Piercing through those layers, high-rise structures, including towers of unknown origin, stand in a somewhat disorderly forest here and there; such was this city.
Those walking the streets are southerners with glossy brown skin. They wear civilized smiles on their lips and arrogant glints in their eyes. The more one moves toward the outskirts of the city, the more these eye colors glare. Clad in primary colors of five hues that seem to sear the retina, or with dark rags pasted to their skin like a second layer, they overflow the streets, the alleys, the plazas, the markets, and every corner of the city.
In that Koroi, there was a strange man. He said he had come from Siddim, a frontier land of the north. He was not very tall, but he had a muscular, rugged build. With a round face and an unsightly beard, he smiled beamingly, albeit shyly. He repeated the same thing in the Enagamo language, which he did not yet seem to speak very well.
"I came to study painting, I came to study painting."
This was Ludo Matinee, the man who had painted Princess Lucy's portrait.
Having finished an unfamiliar sea voyage and stepped off at the port of Koroi, Matinee walked about visiting the workshops of Koroi while his legs were still unsteady.
It was a cityscape with many narrow roads and stone steps.
"I came to study painting."
Whenever he found a master willing to deal with him, Matinee would show the works he had brought, explaining what kind of pieces he had painted and what he was capable of, and he would speak of his prospects, describing what he wished to paint in the future.
Most masters laughed through their noses and sent Matinee away. Especially when they saw Matinee's paintings, they showed disgust on their faces as if they had seen something filthy.
—Was I that unskilled?
Though Matinee lost his confidence, the southern gold coins he had exchanged on the ship were nearly exhausted. He visited workshops desperately, and finally...
"Not bad,"
...he found a master who praised him in blunt Enagamo.
He was an old man likely over seventy years old, called Master Cheto.
"You, did you come because you wanted to paint at my place? You can't paint here; I have enough people."
Master Cheto invited Matinee into the workshop and served him a cloyingly sweet tea.
"What are you? Where did you come from? Siddim? The north?"
Where are you staying? How much money do you have?
He was asked various things, and that night he was treated to a meal, given hot water to wash his body, and given a place to stay.
The next morning, he was guided to a nearby mansion. Although Matinee did not understand it at the time, he had been sold as a slave. The buyer was a man in his forties called Master Banja. Though also a "master," unlike Master Cheto, his business was trade.
Moving to Master Banja's mansion, he spent several days in a room with the servant boys.
Matinee had not yet grasped the situation. Even if he had, there was only one thing he could say.
"Master Banja, I came to study painting."
Since this master seemed terribly busy, Matinee simply showed him the sketches he had accumulated. The fact that he inserted annotations such as "This painting sold for thirty gold coins, this one for fifty" was Matinee's wisdom, believing that since the man was a merchant, he must love talk of money.
Master Banja glanced at the paintings handed to him and dropped them one after another onto the floor.
The slaves around them picked them up and passed them among their comrades. Though called slaves, they were not mere labor forces with nothing but cloth wrapped around their waists. It seemed that the system of slavery also became refined as time progressed; the southern slaves wore fine clothing so as not to bring shame upon their masters.
As he would learn later, they received wages. They could have wives and children. It was doubtful whether they could be strictly called slaves. At first, Matinee thought they were closer to servants in the north.
They did not do menial labor.
Master Banja's slaves planned new businesses for their master, developed new products, and cultivated new customers. The slaves of the same house gathered and dispersed for each project, always deploying some kind of scheme in the market to earn money. They were proactive.
On the other hand, because they were slaves, they were bought and sold. Rather than their physical bodies being traded, a price was placed on their talent. Because of this, slaves were not cheap. The southern slaves were all possessors of high ability or skill. Some were collected by masters, and after succeeding in one venture, were immediately put up for sale again. The slaves moved from master to master, increasing their fame. There were no emotional attachments. Everyone was sold and bought with a natural face. They were traded not by bonds of gratitude or feeling, but according to the need for their ability. For the purpose of making a business succeed.
At that time, Matinee knew nothing and was carefree.
Master Banja took notice of one painting.
"Good."
It was the painting of Princess Lucy.
"This is a prostitute. She is quite lightly dressed." The master's nostrils flared with excitement. "I hear that in the north, frost falls in the mornings and evenings even in midsummer. She would catch a cold in such light clothing."
A slave nearby nodded.
"Painting a prostitute is a good idea. Overall, there must be no such thing as mirrors in the north. That is why they have painters paint them to see their own faces. A thing called a portrait would hold no meaning in a country with mirrors. However, one might want to keep the face of a favorite prostitute close at hand."
"We have mirrors. Besides, does frost really fall in summer, no matter how far north it is?" Unless it's a cold summer, Matinee added in his mind.
For the first time, the master directed a smile at Matinee. "I see, my apologies. I do not know much about the north; when you have time, teach me various things."
He was unexpectedly kind.
This too was something he learned later: a slave could buy themselves. In other words, if they saved enough money to pay the master, they had the freedom to stop being a slave. To prevent slaves from escaping over trivial quarrels, masters were considerate of their slaves to a certain extent.
Master Banja and the slaves spoke vigorously and rapidly. Although he couldn't hear clearly, it seemed they had decided on Matinee's fate.
The conclusion reached was that Matinee would be given a room and meals. In exchange, he would study painting every day at Master Cheto's workshop and dedicate those skills to Master Banja.
It was a deal beyond his hopes.
"However, if you accept a commission for a painting without going through me, I will punish you. Also, you must absolutely not paint anything regarding the Jahy religion."
The Jahy religion hated idols. It seemed that if one painted the form of God, the believers would resent them and kill them in the shadows. There were followers of various religions in Koroi.
"I will speak to Master Cheto myself. Start attending from tomorrow. Paint women; women. Beauties full of allure."
—I certainly will.
He was prepared to paint anything as long as he could study painting.
Under a youth in his teens who was a disciple of Master Cheto's disciple, Ludo Matinee relearned miniature painting from scratch. Perhaps because he approached it with enthusiasm, he became friends with that youth, Salimeni, who had reddish-brown eyes, and was taught how to read and write.
Cheto's workshop produced illustrators for manuscripts.
Thanks to Salimeni, he became able to read a bit of the contents of the books.
An illustrator had to paint a picture exactly identical to the original, which was educational. Matinee sat at his desk fervently. The break times and the gatherings for conversation after work were also rich with stimulation.
"Your paintings, however, are immediately recognizable as your brushwork,"
the senior disciples said one after another, critiquing Matinee's paintings.
"No, I don't dislike it; there's an interesting quality to it."
"As I thought, there must be a difference in historical context regarding simplification and exaggeration between the north and the south."
"But the technique is high. The teacher was good," Salimeni also said.
Matinee listened entranced. The south was rich. Its language was rich. The disciples of Cheto could put into words the difference in impression of paintings that were supposed to be imitations.
This happy time ended after about a year.
Matinee was expelled from the workshop. It seemed Master Banja and Master Cheto had a falling out. They said Master Cheto had tried to buy Matinee from Master Banja and was rejected.
"Don't think you can work in this Koroi!"
Master Cheto, in a rage, kicked Matinee out.
Master Banja was also in a bad mood.
It was because Matinee, no matter how much time passed, did not paint pictures that sold.
"It couldn't be helped, so I have gone to the trouble of securing some work for you."
The work Master Banja had secured was a mural for a Roma Church. This was the first time Matinee learned that there were Roma Churches in Koroi as well.
—You can do it, right?
When asked, he answered "Yes." Matinee was from Karnain, and it was not his first time painting on a church wall.
He immediately went to the church, which was the site, and greeted the priest. It was also his first time meeting a southern priest.
The work began with building scaffolding with stepladders and scraping and knocking off the wall. He hammered the wall loudly with a mallet. The priest let out a scream.
"W-what are you doing!"
"It is fine."
"To our historic church!"
"It is alright. I will re-apply the plaster."
Ignoring the priest who was making a great fuss, Matinee continued his work. Soon after, Master Banja rushed over, interrupting the work and shouting, and an official who seemed to be a constable arrived and shouted.
Matinee found it bothersome. "It's fine. It's just that you don't know; this is the correct way."
For a mural, one first re-applies the plaster, and then begins painting once the plaster is half-dry. When it is half-dry, the paint soaks in and hardens as it dries, resulting in good fixation. Moreover, the color development of the paint is also good. Matinee explained this at length.
Thinking back, from this moment, this mural was destined to attract attention. From the next day, idle people came to gawk at the "eccentric wielding a mallet in the church."
Matinee decided to use red abundantly in this mural. The theme was the scene where Roma, the Savior Prophet, was driven from his hometown. It depicted Roma facing forward, leaving the village bravely, but there was also an air of wanting to look back. This was also his own feeling after being expelled from Cheto's workshop.
He used red to make it stand out. The sun did not hit this wall. He hoped for an effect where the viewer would mistakenly believe that the setting sun was partially illuminating it.
At a certain stage of production, the priest finally locked out the onlookers.
In exchange, the priest began to persistently ask for the scheduled date and time of completion.
"I don't know."
In truth, he did. Since the painting cannot be done once the plaster hardens by drying, he would finish it by then. It was easy to predict.
With a result he was nearly satisfied with, Matinee completed the mural. He greeted the priest, packed up his tools, returned to the mansion, and slept deeply.
It was the following day. St. Saisha Church was surrounded ten-fold, twenty-fold by long lines of guests who had come to see the painting. The priest had shrewdly prepared a donation box, and it seemed that box was overflowing with money.
To that story told to him by a fellow slave,
"I see,"
...was the only response Matinee could give. However, after a week passed, and then a month, he felt terror upon learning that the lines did not cease and were instead on an increasing trend. Rumors that some master, some noble, even royalty had come to see it. Reputations such as "It's as if it's alive" and "It looks as if it will step out from the wall." Every time he heard them, he was overcome by a shame that made his face feel like it was on fire.
"You've done it now."
Master Banja seemed to be in a perfectly good mood.
"Yes."
"To put it plainly, a golden opportunity for easy money has arrived. If you have requests, say them now."
"I wish to further my studies in painting, so please return me to the workshop."
"Unnecessary. Master Cheto said he has nothing more to teach you and came to buy you. From now on, hone your skills through practice."
Master Banja said he would raise his wages. "Also, I shall lend you a room to serve as a studio. And you, take a wife. I will arrange for you to marry a daughter of a good family."
Despite his age, Matinee felt bashful. He declined, saying he was currently only interested in his painting.
"Then, I shall assign you two servant women. If you like them, make them both your wives. And you," Master Banja looked at Matinee with sharp eyes. "Whatever you do, do not think of escaping. Koroi gives heartless punishments for the escape of slaves."
Ludo Matinee's treatment improved suddenly.
The master took on work for another church, and once that was finished, Matinee's fame grew even further. Matinee became a celebrity in Koroi.
Hearing of that fame, various people came to visit.
Since he could not attend to everyone, the servant women screened them to a certain extent.
"Ludo,"
one day, one of the servants, Amisha, told him.
"You have a guest. He is from the same hometown as you, and says he absolutely wishes to meet you."
He seemed to be a Siddimite. Matinee ordered him to be let in and met a youth named Yugis Necrat for the first time.
Malfa City of the Kingdom of Siddim, that rainy afternoon.
Yugis had finished his independent training at the King's School and was on his way home, carrying his spear while bathed in rain. Just before leaving the castle, a trio from the Royal Army ran toward him. Since all three had drawn their swords, Yugis threw his spear without hesitation. Of course, it did not hit, but it stalled the soldiers. In that gap, Yugis began to flee, slipping on his feet.
He ran through the backstreets in the sudden downpour toward his lodging. Figures that seemed to be from the Royal Army were everywhere. Yugis's apprehension only continued to rise.
"Found you!"
He was surprised to hear a voice. Turning around, it was Dash. However, he had brought a pair of Royal Army soldiers behind him.
Yugis gripped the hilt of his sword. "Dash, come here."
"It ain't like that, young master."
"Just come here."
One of the soldiers took off his helmet. "It's me, Yugis-san."
The one who looked up saying this was Lian Belghiyo.
"It's you!" Yugis drew his sword. "You're a strange man. Did you come to settle a score even at a complicated time like this?"
"I wanted to save you."
"Do I look so foolish that I would believe that?"
"Young master!"
At the same moment he looked toward Dash, a thick arm wrapped around Yugis's neck.
Squeezed around the area under his chin, his body would not move no matter how he struggled.
"I thought I was dead then," Yugis told Matinee. "I completely lost consciousness, and when I regained it, I was on a boat."
The Siddimite painter had invited Yugis into his room and served him an unnervingly sweet tea.
"And then, on that boat to Koroi?"
Matinee's tone was gentle, and he was a good listener.
"No, though I say boat, it was a small roofed boat for going downriver. It seems we escaped Malfa City using the river. By 'we,' I mean the attendant Dash, whom I mentioned earlier, was also on board. Though it was a small boat, the movement was fast, and we reached the port city of Aver by the next morning. I hear that even when going upriver from Aver to Siddim, if one is blessed with wind, it takes less than a day to arrive."
"But you did not return, I presume?"
Yugis nodded.
As it was, he was placed on a ship bound for the south that had been anchored at the port.
—Let me accompany you.
Dash had said, but Yugis did not permit it.
'Dash, for now, I release you from your service.'
'I'm servin' as the young master's attendant by the Great Lord's orders. Young master, I'll be waitin' for ya at the Black Feather Mansion. Forever.'
Naturally, Yugis could not contain his emotion. He wiped his tears, alternating the sleeves of both arms to his eyes. 'I understand. We shall meet again, Dash.'
That became their parting words. Yugis boarded the ship and came to Koroi.
Lian had apparently paid the ship's fare. He heard so from the captain.
"That person who kidnapped you, why did he do such a thing?"
"The clear details are..." Yugis shook his head.
—Why save me?
Naturally, Yugis had pressed Lian.
'Because I want to keep you alive,' Lian Belghiyo had said. 'It would be boring if you died. Not now, Yugis-san. Right now, no matter what you try to do, it would just be a wasted death. In the first place, you shouldn't be in Siddim.'
'By keeping me alive, what do you gain?'
'Who knows. However, the people of the east all hate the Thora family, don't they? Eber is much the same.'
He seemed to want to say that he was therefore an ally.
"Matinee-san," Yugis entered the main subject. "By any chance, have you been in contact with anyone from Siddim? I want to know what happened in Malfa City that day, and what happened to the east."
"I see. However, unfortunately, my family's style is that once you've acquired a trade, you each do as you please thereafter,"
Matinee spoke. In other words, it seemed he had no one he exchanged letters with.
"However, I know where your parents, brothers, and sisters are. I shall inquire by letter."
"I'm grateful!" Yugis's face brightened. "Matinee-san, while I'm at it, I want to ask you to advance the money for that."
Ludo Matinee also smiled. "Do not worry about it. Strangely enough, I am wealthy now. You should live in this mansion until the reply to the letter arrives. If I don't use the Siddim language like this once in a while, I feel I might forget it."
"No, no. It must cost a great deal of money to request letters. I'll earn at least that much."
"Earn, you say? What will you do?"
"I am, despite this, the son of a warrior house, so I think I can manage handling weapons. I hear there are masters who gather mercenaries and lease them out, so I thought I'd let myself be bought."
"No, no," Matinee stood up once and sat back down. "Is this not a precious life? In the near future, it may become a war. From what I've heard—"
"The Kosa people?"
"Yes, that's it. I hear they fought and lost to a race called the Tawaru, but apparently there is someone calling himself the Great King of Kosa, and the Kosa Empire has been formed."
Matinee was the only fellow countryman he had met in a distant foreign land. Yugis was touched by Matinee's consideration. That was precisely why he said:
"Matinee-san. I want to see the war of the Kosa people. If I don't see that, there is no meaning in having survived. That is why I intend to become one—a mercenary."