Chapter 92: Matar scheme
"How can you prove that this decree truly came from them? Or is it perhaps a fabrication, a mere invention of yours! I know you are only seeking an opportunity, and perhaps even now, you are watching, waiting to take advantage of us, am I correct?" Harthur suspected.
"Your Majesty, please, calm yourself, for you are mistaken," Matar swiftly replied. "Look upon this decree, and the parchment it is written on. Does not only the Thallerion possess such paper, and only they can produce such a script? Even you, Your Majesty, do not possess this, do you? And as further proof, it is signed by the King of Thallerion." Matar explained. "If you do not believe me, hold it, examine it, and scrutinize it closely. We are not lying." He urged.
"My dear husband, I remember that very thing!" Azonia stated with a resonant voice. "The writing material looked exactly like this the time we were delivered a message from Thallerion; that is what they gave us. There is no doubt, this thing truly came from them!" Azonia recalled.
"We also recognize that material, Your Majesty," said the sages.
"This is perplexing. Thallerion does not employ other guests, and certainly not the enemy! They only commission Cathark," Harthur remarked. Matar was startled, and Laniro’s companions grew uneasy. Harthur focused his gaze on Matar, searching for any sinister reactions or suspicious signs in their movements. The king’s eyes were piercing them, making them feel extremely nervous. Yet, Matar and his company maintained their composure. Matar immediately stepped forward, ready to stand his ground and defend their deception.
"King Harthur, if the Thallerion had not commanded us, why would we be able to deliver this decree to you?" Matar answered calmly. "The truth is, we did not want this; they forced us to come here to convey their will." Matar spoke with sorrow. "If hunger and sickness were not widespread in my nation, we would not have approached you. If there were no plague and famine in Ossibuz, I would likely be resting in my own kingdom, seated as you are now." Matar’s words were heavy with emotion. "Look at my soldiers. They are thin and afflicted with disease, for they lack sufficient sustenance to regain their strength and health." Matar implored.
The King observed Matar’s company for a long while. He had been hearing the persistent coughing they were struggling to suppress, which only grew worse when contained. He also saw one soldier with a missing eye, two who were extremely emaciated, and others who were pale and frail from ill health. Only one appeared robust and healthy. Azonia did the same, but she was consumed by pity.
"It seems to be true, my dear husband," Azonia agreed. "Just look at their faces and their skin, they are truly wasted away. How pitiful!" Azonia said with compassion.
"Oh, Queen of Moonatoria, your heart is indeed pure and merciful," Matar praised further.
"Do not pity them, Azonia!" Harthur scowled. "Lest they prove to be worse than stray tigers!" The King snarled.
"But, can’t you see?" the Queen responded, shrugging her shoulders. "Have it your way!" She shot an annoyed look at the King. She fell silent and left.
"Before we arrived here, King Harthur," Matar’s voice boomed. "Xerxez spoke to us!" Everyone turned, eager to hear what Matar was about to say.
"What is it?" Harthur asked, his eyes intense. "What did Xerxez say?" Matar noticed a certain dread in the actions of everyone present. King Harthur’s gaze was dark and wary.
"If you refuse to fight them," Matar said seriously. "They will consider Moonatoria a Coward!" Matar emphasized. "And as proof that you accept that challenge, you are to present yourselves at Brollasca this coming Sunday," he urged. "And if you do not comply, that alone will prove your cowardice. Moreover, he said he defeated your father because he was superior to him. Therefore, what more of you—you are, he said, no different from your father: weak, and dull in warfare!"
"I believe only a child would say such things. Brollasca is too far for such a confrontation. Do you truly think I will believe you?" Harthur shouted angrily, standing up from his seat. "Soldiers, dismiss them from my sight. I will forgive you this day, but should I learn that you are not telling the truth, I myself will declare war on you and your nation!"
"Wait a moment, do not assume this conversation is a jest or that I am trying to amuse you. Fate will prove it," Matar said.
"Leave at once!" Harthur roared. "I have no need to trust you!"
"If you refuse to leave now, I might change my mind! You might not return!" Harthur hissed, annoyed.
"Your Majesty, Matar. Let us go!" Laniro said soothingly.
"Farewell to you... We shall depart!" Matar said meekly. "Come, my companions!"
The King was left with anger and exasperation etched on his face. Intense fury surged through him, yet he was resolved not to believe such tales easily. He knew the nature of Ossibus, known by many to be cunning and deceitful. Even if this was merely a delivery of a message, he had no intention of believing it.
The soldiers still escorted Matar and his company out of the kingdom and towards the passage of the White Wall. The same four commanders led them out.
"You are truly lucky!" said Esthanef.
"Just ensure that everything you said is true, because if not, we will surely come to your kingdom and exact payment!" Wadroth threatened.
"We will kill you, Matar!" said Yttmirh. "And you too, Laniro!"
"Are you laughing at our King?" Laniro retorted.
"Do not ever return here, because the next time you do—you will be dead!" said Kinchith.
"Do not worry, I assure you, you will be kind to us," Matar said.
"Your face!" said Wadroth with utter disdain.
"Farewell to you," said Gallexe. Gallexe’s companions even waved.
"Wait a moment!" Yttmirh called out. Matar and his group turned around. Yttmirh tossed their weapons, which were wrapped in a yellowish-brown cloth. "You almost forgot these!"
"Thank you for returning them!" Matar said with slight sarcasm. "I thought you might claim our weapons for yourselves?" Matar sneered. But they laughed.
"We are not poor, and we certainly do not need your rotten weapons. They might even bring bad luck and rust here!" said Esthanef.
"They are just trash to us," Kinchith yelled. They all laughed at Matar and his men. "Be gone!" they shooed them away.
The four commanders entered, and the passage closed. Matar and his company continued their journey back. Matar was successful in his plan, and they had escaped harm. Laniro’s companions, and even Laniro himself, nearly leaped with joy, breathing a sigh of relief. He had been nervous and afraid for days, so now he would give thanks for their safety. And, of course, their pretense of being weak and pathetic, though they spoke little, had greatly helped to convince and gain the trust of Moonatoria. However, the King was not fully convinced by Matar’s words. But the truth was, it was only a tactic for Matar to gain a new opportunity.
"Laniro, you and the others proceed to the ship," Matar instructed.
"That cannot be, Your Majesty... What you are about to do is dangerous," Laniro objected. "We will stay here with you. If you remain here alone, you could be attacked without our knowledge."
"Have faith in me, go now! Leave, and expect me to arrive soon," Matar commanded firmly.
Laniro fell silent and simply obeyed. "Please be careful, Your Majesty," said Gallexe.
Where Matar stood, there were many white trees and large chunks of rock. He merely stood there, as if he sensed someone was coming. From behind him, he heard approaching footsteps, but he did not move to investigate. Instead, he spoke. "I have been waiting for you for some time!"
"How did you know I followed you?" Matar was still facing away. A woman wearing red and veiled, nearly covering her face, stood before him.
"The Queen of Moonatoria... I am delighted by what I behold now, Queen Azonia." Matar turned around. But a dagger was suddenly placed near his throat. Matar only smirked and did not even flinch. "You are truly daring," he said.
"I do not believe that the Thallerion commanded you to deliver a message." She pressed the dagger’s edge slightly harder against Matar’s neck, causing his skin to redden.
"Calm yourself, Azonia!" Matar said. "I am not your enemy!"
"If that is true, then tell me the truth. Is it true that the Thallerion is challenging the nation of Moonatoria?"
"If I tell the truth, what is there for me to gain from someone like you?" But Matar was suddenly captivated by the look in Azonia’s eyes. "Ah, from what I read in your eyes... It seems you want that very thing to happen, do you not?"
"Stop what you are doing!" She lowered the dagger and turned away.
"What if I told you there will truly be no war between your nation and the Thallerion?"
"What payment do you truly desire?" Azonia asked.
"From what I see, it looks like I can rely on the things running through your mind right now," Matar said.
"Do not deceive me, Matar. Tell me the truth, and I will give you the payment."
"The truth is, I do not intend to beg from a wealthy and courageous queen like you. That is, if you agree to conspire with me for a war."
"If it is a war between the Thallerion and your nation, I cannot help you. But I know you are only manipulating the story."
"You did not disappoint me, Azonia. I knew you were ready for something like this. And rest assured, Ossibus will not become an enemy of Moonatoria."
"I believe we are in agreement on this matter, but I will make one thing clear: if you betray me, I can change the narrative of Ossibus."
"Everything is clear to me, Azonia... The question is—are you prepared to do what is necessary?"
"We shall meet again," was Azonia’s only reply. Azonia left immediately without leaving any trace behind.
"The child will soon be fatherless," Matar said to himself. He also departed once he saw he was alone.
Now they were heading back to Ossibuz. They would still pass through the path they had taken before. They would still battle the cold. Only the strong would survive! But first, they passed through the land of Brollasca.
"Your Majesty, is this not the place spoken of as the cursed land? Why are we setting foot here?" Laniro asked.
"You know so much, Commander Laniro," Gallexe said, astonished.
Matar looked up at the sky and saw that it was overcast. His companions were puzzled by his actions.
"This place is hot, yet it is overcast... There is truly a curse here," Laniro said. "Let us leave this place."
"Not yet..."
Before they disembarked from the ship, the King ordered them to bring digging tools. But they had no idea what they were for.
"Dig the earth," Matar commanded those with the digging tools. The diggers became nervous because they feared they were digging a grave for a person.
"Commander, what is the King having us dig this pit for?" Gallexe asked fearfully.
"I do not know either... Go on, command them to dig."
"Is someone being buried now?" Gallexe asked further. "There is no corpse on our ship...? Everyone who died was already thrown into the Orcasian ocean, was they not!?"
"Do not ask too many questions. Just do what the King commands," he quickly replied, but he was staring at Matar, who seemed to be talking to someone they could not see.
"Go on and do it!" He wanted to approach Matar to find out who he was talking to. He quickly went to Matar.
"Your Majesty, are you speaking to someone here? Near this large rock?" He peered behind the rock, but there was no one. "Your Majesty, whose corpse are we burying in the hole you ordered to be dug?"
"Not burying, but reviving!" Matar responded softly, as if in a trance. "Be silent, for the person I dreamed of is speaking to me."
"Who?"
"It is time to perform the Corvus ritual that he commands for the coming war."
"War? Did you not tell me that Thallerion and Moonatoria would have a new war?" Laniro asked, confused.
"A war for the Foreordained!" Matar said.
"The Foreordained? Your Majesty, what are you talking about? I am confused. Why won’t you explain?"
"That object is about to fall!" Matar looked up at the sky and saw a brilliant star. Its sparkle did not fade.
Matar pulled out a dead crow, Corvys. "That crow!" Laniro exclaimed in horror.
A being’s voice spoke from an indiscernible direction.