Chương 147: Chapter 9: A Well-Fed Ignorance

After eating and catching up in a torrent of words and filtered confidences, Selena shared fragments of her journey: the scorching heat of the desert that parched the throat and melted the horizon, the ceremony at court, the modification of her titles, and the strange sensation of possessing theoretical authority over the health of an entire kingdom. But she drew a line of steel around certain subjects. She never mentioned her lost colleagues, Magnor, Astrid, Alistair, whose names were now painful, private shadows.

She never spoke of the artifacts, nor of the bronze ring that was now legally hers, nor of the sword she had tried to salvage in vain. Those were secrets sealed with blood and purifying fire. For her part, Maya unspooled her own advancements with contagious enthusiasm. She spoke of her progress in the written touch, of the frustration and triumph of understanding new forms of magic she had once believed possible.

She explained, with the patience of one who loves her craft, the auxiliary language of cataloging runes, sterile symbols of power that only served to classify the spell contained within a parchment, without any magical capacity of their own. With pride, she detailed her studies in comparative anatomy: she had learned to distinguish the light, aerodynamic skeletons of the ornitura, the powerful structure of the nimoras, and the peculiar build of the anurhys.

She also mentioned, with a smile of genuine relief, her elective on the laws of the realm, particularly The Code of the Crown and the Chain, a treatise that, like a primitive civil code, brutally stratified society: noble, bourgeois, free, serf, slave. —Now I understand —Maya said, her voice laden with a contained emotion. Selena paid closer attention, drawn by curiosity. —Now I understand what it truly means for my family and me to be free people. It is not just a word.

It is a legal barrier that protects us, or at least, so the book says. When they returned to the university grounds, crossing the Atrium of Knowledge beneath the golden light of the afternoon, a familiar figure caught their attention in the distance. Valerian. He was wrapped in his black robe with wide sleeves and the characteristic red trim like fresh wounds, his brown hair as rebellious as ever.

Upon spotting them, or perhaps sensing Selena's gaze, the jester made a sharp movement: he turned halfway around and began walking at a brisk pace toward a darker side corridor, as if attempting to evaporate into the shadows. Selena did not hesitate. She took Maya by the arm, whose eyes widened in surprise, and without a word, dragged her along. But not toward where Valerian was escaping.

She ran in the exact opposite direction, turning down a corridor covered in vines, then through another, dodging a group of students absorbed in a debate. Maya, not understanding but trusting, followed her, stifling a nervous laugh. After exactly two minutes of this apparently absurd detour, Selena stopped at a corner where two corridors intersected at a right angle.

Just at that moment, as if obeying a script written by her, Valerian appeared, rounding the corner of the perpendicular corridor and walking directly toward them. Selena released Maya's arm and crossed her own, a wide, teasing smile illuminating her face. Valerian stopped dead in his tracks, his bright silver eyes, usually filled with mockery or mystery, showing a fleeting flash of genuine surprise before returning to his customary expression of theatrical annoyance.

Selena looked at him and, adopting an exaggerated posture, imitated his sing-song, fatalistic tone: —Your misfortune leads you right to where the Echo declares it… To top it off, she executed one of the unnecessarily elegant hand flourishes that characterized the jester, flick of the wrist that ended with her palm upward, as if offering something invisible. Maya, beside her, covered her mouth with both hands, but her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and a gleam of pure amusement illuminated her eyes.

Valerian observed her for a moment. Then, a slow smile, almost of respect, drew itself upon his lips. He passed a hand over his face, gesture that erased the smile and transformed it into a mask of somber, melodramatic seriousness. When he spoke, his voice carried the grave, prophetic tone he reserved for his most sinister forecasts. —Crimson —he said, emphasizing the old nickname. —Your misfortune leads you right in front of me.

And my nose, sharpened by the vapors of a thousand potions and the whispers of the Void, tells me that blood does not only stain your hands… but your conscience. Perhaps a well-aimed rebound, a jolt of destiny, might relieve you of that burden. He stared at her, raising an eyebrow with an air of challenge. Selena nodded, returning to her normal tone, but with a sarcastic edge that could cut through steel. —Quite so —she admitted without vacillating. —At least I accept it.

And I don't hide it behind a jester's mask and cryptic predictions. Maya remained silent, watching the verbal duel with a mixture of fascination and caution, knowing she was in the presence of two forces of nature measuring each other with words as others did with swords. Valerian sighed, an glassily deep sound laden with world-weariness. —In truth, I wanted to speak with you in a few days, when the alignment of the stars was more propitious for… heavy conversations.

But since you insist on following me with the tenacity of a famished anurhy… He made a vague gesture with his hand. —I am heading to my tower. Or as the students with less brains and more humor call it, "the Office of Chaos." A malevolent, genuinely amused smile crossed his face. —Perhaps, since you are here, I will have you lift the monumental ignorance you left accumulated the last time you deigned to visit these humble halls.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Selena laughed, a clear sound that contrasted with Valerian's somber theatricality. —I see you appreciate my ignorance —she said, shaking her head. —And you have kept it with affection, feeding it, so you can gift it back to me. I will follow you, Valerian. But if I tell you everything I know now… I will strip away half the theatricality. I wouldn't want to deprive you of that show.

Maya, caught in the whirlwind of theatrical gestures and verbal games she did not entirely comprehend, managed to raise a hand in a weak wave before Selena and Valerian ventured into the labyrinth of corridors leading to his tower. The expression on her face was a blend of confusion and amused resignation at the master's eccentricities. Upon reaching the solid door of dark wood, Valerian made a dramatic pause. Then, with an exaggerated movement, he threw it wide open, offering a mocking bow.

—You may enter —he announced with a grandiloquent voice— into my abode of absolute order and neatness. A sanctuary for the disciplined mind. Selena crossed the threshold, and the familiar spectacle greeted her. There was no order, nor neatness. Chaos reigned with an almost organic vitality. Books lay open on the stone floor; their pages folded back at obscene angles like dog-ears.

Piles of parchments, some rolled, others unfolded, rose like precarious towers, some crowned by forgotten porcelain cups where mold had begun to trace green and black maps in the remnants of tea.

Tables of various sizes and styles of heavy coralline, of light zintel, some even with one shorter leg competed for space, all buried beneath a geological stratum of papers, dust glittering in the sun filtering through the high windows, strange instruments of arcane measurement, copper spheres with rotating rings, opaque crystal prisms, scales with unequal pans, and the petrified remains of past meals.

The air was thick with a complex scent: stale ink, withered herbs from abandoned experiments, old parchment dust, and, floating beneath it all, a faint but perceptible metallic note, like old blood or an oxidizing alchemical metal. Selena could not help but sigh, a sound that was half exasperation, half nostalgia. —Everything remains exactly the same —she murmured, scanning the room. Maya, however, could not stop looking everywhere, as if she might find the order the resonant spoke of, but which existed nowhere.

—A resonant must be faithful to his nature —Valerian declared. Then, closing the door with a sharp thud that caused a nearby stack of parchments to tremble, he observed the evident expression of disgust on Maya's face, who seemed to be mentally calculating the risk of contracting some unknown disease merely by breathing. —Maya —he said with theatricality. Addressing her as he made his way toward his primary desk, an island of slightly more organized disorder.

—I give you explicit permission to read any book you find of interest for the duration of our… adult conversation. Maya, despite the environment, smiled, intrigued by the prospect of rummaging through a royal resonant's chaotic library. Valerian then made a broad gesture toward an empty chair that was half-covered by a stained robe for Selena to sit. Selena ignored it entirely.

With a naturalness that spoke of her growing familiarity with the place and her disdain for protocols even here, she headed to one of the high Gothic-arched windows that overlooked the university gardens. She sat on the stone sill, leaning her back against the cold frame, her legs dangling inside the room. From there, she dominated the hall. Valerian watched her, and a grimace of mock concern crossed his face. —Crimson, be careful! Don't commit suicide!

It is a fall high enough to break a bone, but not quite enough to guarantee a swift end! Exclaimed, bringing a hand to his chest. Then, as if remembering something, he added in a casual tone. —Ah, that's right. This is the ground floor. What a disappointment for dramatists. Meanwhile, Maya, overcoming her initial repulsion, began to scrutinize the shelves and mountains of books. Her eyes settled on a thick, dark-spined volume that looked interesting, but it was buried under a pile of loose loose-leaf papers.

On the top sheet, written in impeccable calligraphy, a single word read: IGNORANCE. Carefully, Maya removed the paper. Beneath it, the book was titled The Imaginary and the Understanding of the Echo. She opened it to the first page. In the center, in large, simple letters, it read: JESTER. The following pages were blank. Completely blank. Selena, who had been watching the scene from her watchtower at the window, could not contain herself.

A loud, clear, and genuine laugh erupted in the dusty room, causing Maya to look up with an expression of comic frustration and disillusionment. —You found the ignorance Crimson gifted me! —Valerian announced in triumph. He then executed one of his most elaborate hand flourishes, as if presenting a masterpiece. —Don't you find it beautiful? Ignorance, fed with time and watered with the affection of oblivion. It has grown so much! Selena, still laughing, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

—It's an inside joke, Maya —she managed to say, containing her laughter. —Don't mind it. A… peculiar pedagogical habit of Valerian's. Maya set down the white book with a resigned sigh and a slight smile, understanding she had fallen into one of the resonant's intellectual traps. Then Selena, regaining her composure but maintaining her position at the window, looked directly at Valerian. Her tone lost all its lightness, becoming clear and direct knife cutting through the fog of the theater. —Valerian. Tell me.

What does the red resonant want with me? The question hovered in the heavy air. For an instant, Valerian seemed to shed his mask. The mocking smile vanished, and his silver eyes lost their glint of perpetual amusement. His face became serious, almost stern. The transformation was so abrupt that the atmosphere in the room seemed to drop several degrees. —Crimson —he said. His voice was no longer sing-song, but grave, carrying the weight of genuine worry. —I had a dream. Pure Halom, not a whim. I dreamed of you.

I dreamed you were in a place of stone and echo, weeping. You wept while your hands, trembling, gripped and pressed against a thigh… where a leg should be, and was not. He paused, letting the precise and painful image settle. Selena did not move a muscle, but her breathing became a little shallower. —I know what the King commanded you. The mission. —He sighed, a tired sound that was not feigned. —But I, Selena, am a part-time Royal Advisor. A title that sometimes means something.

By virtue of that position, and because I know you… I demand to be informed of the matters that transpired. Not the polished report for the throne. The truth. The one that left that void in my dream and in your eyes. His gaze, intense and devoid of any jest, rested on Selena. Then, it drifted toward Maya, who remained there, motionless, listening with wide eyes, the blue-spined book she had finally found forgotten in her hands. —Maya —Valerian said, his tone now authoritative, that of the master and the advisor.

—Take your book and read in the courtyard. What follows… His gaze returned to Selena, his tone almost a military command. —Concerns solely the nobility involved and the Royal Council. And dreams that should not be dreamed. Without another word, with a tilt of his head toward the door, he dismissed the young alchemist. Maya, understanding the gravity that now enveloped the room, nodded quickly.

With a final glance of concern toward Selena, she took the blue-spined book and left the Office of Chaos, closing the door softly behind her. The sound of the latch clicking into place seemed to seal the space, leaving Selena and Valerian alone, surrounded by the disorder and the weight of a secret that now demanded to be told.