Episode 15: Same Bed, Different Dreams (5)
Hashana stepped up to the man who had frozen as if caught in a spell and smoothly pulled out the pin securing his cloak.
Iskandel, who had even stopped breathing, reflexively grabbed the heavy fabric as it slid from his shoulders.
“Give it to me.”
With complete naturalness, she took the weighty cloth from his hands and draped it over her own left shoulder.
Then she flicked the deep purple fabric that had been resting on her right shoulder and swung it around his back.
As she draped the cloak around him, their proximity felt like an embrace, and he could not stop the question that burst from his lips like a sneeze.
“Is this how you usually win over spies?”
“You’re a spy? Then I should kill you.”
Iskandel fell silent.
“I’m joking.”
She laughed like a girl and gently tugged at the pinned cloak, smoothing the folds.
Once she had finished, Hashana stepped back again, and Iskandel strode forward, leaning in until their foreheads were almost touching.
“I’m curious.
The god you serve is certain that I am a spy, so why do you show me this kind of trust without the slightest hint of doubt?”
“Because I am a very, very exceptional Saintess of War.”
She answered calmly, without even thinking to back away.
Her expression was as matter-of-fact as if she were saying, ‘The sun rises in the morning.’ Faced with that serenity, which was neither arrogance nor pride, he couldn’t help but twist her words.
“That sounds as if you’re saying the creation is superior to the creator.”
“That’s not the issue.
Rsanda and I sense war in different ways.”
“Different ways?”
She hesitated for a moment, wondering how to explain, then decided to just say it as it was.
“Rsanda says she can smell war, but I do the math.
According to my calculations, there is simply no reason for the Empire, in its current position, to invade Durgtah.
Every time I run the numbers, I reach the same conclusion.”
“You’re being very absolute.
There is no such thing as never when it comes to incidents and accidents.”
“The cost of moving troops from the Capital to here, and the profit to be gained from conquering Durgtah—there’s no need for a long calculation; the balance sheet is a complete mess.
Who would do something that foolish?”
“Humans are easily swayed by emotions that can’t be explained by numbers.
The fame of being the first person to conquer the impregnable fortress-city.
There must be at least a hundred fools who would seriously covet that glory.”
Iskandel himself was one of those fools.
Speaking on behalf of the Empire’s ambitious fools, he posed his question, and Hashana once again shook her head firmly.
“That only makes it even less likely there will be a war. Durgtah will never fall, so there will be no fame and no glory.”
She let out a small, exasperated laugh, as if the idea were absurd, no matter how many times she considered it.
“It would be like pouring money and effort onto the street. Unless they’re insane or complete idiots, no one has any reason to waste their time on something so pointless.”
Having been summarily labeled both insane and an idiot, he gave up on probing her any further.
Hashana’s certainty was his opportunity.
‘Thank goodness the saintess is so simple and naïve.
That’s one less thing to worry about.’
“So, should I take it your ability has determined that I’m a perfectly innocent man?”
“To be perfectly honest… you’re not someone I can judge so easily.”
Her answer was so honest it was almost too much, and Iskandel let out a quiet laugh.
“In that case, I’m even more curious why you’re showing me such kindness.
I was taught to be wary of excessive kindness, because it always hides ulterior motives.”
“That’s because I have a use for you, of course.”
The question had been sudden, but she didn’t even blink as she replied calmly and fluttered her lashes.
“And what use would that be?”
“To be frank, I would like you to diagnose, evaluate, and advise me as objectively as possible on how to make Durgtah even more beautiful. I heard you’re quite famous for wasting money on pretty things that are absolutely useless.”
Iskandel was too stunned to speak.
Hashana went on, her expression turning just a little lonely.
“The war ended long ago. Outside of Durgtah, no one remembers Rsanda’s name, let alone praises her. Forgotten gods disappear, so it won’t be long before Rsanda and I vanish too. When the goddess and her saintess are gone, I want our people to live without want, without having to envy anyone.”
As this unexpectedly somber confession slipped out, Iskandel’s eyes narrowed.
Hashana quickly waved her hands, as if to insist it wasn’t so serious.
“Rsanda says one must endure the blazing sun and blizzards to become a strong soldier, but I disagree. I believe it’s better to avoid them whenever possible to preserve one’s strength.”
He remained silent.
“The same applies to their daily environment. Rsanda says there’s no need for flowers or landscaping, since everything will be reduced to ruins in a war anyway… but I don’t want our people to live every day in a bleak, barren place, grimly preparing for war.”
Perfect symmetry.
Perfect defense.
Perfect utility.
These were the thoughts she had harbored all along while upholding that perfection.
For Hashana, it was a duty she had to bear as the Saintess of War, but the same was not true for her people.
‘Just because they were born in Durgtah, it’s unfair that they have to live so cut off from the rest of the world.’
The weight of her citizens’ daily lives had settled in her heart like a heavy debt.
Now, she finally let that long-held wish spill out, word by careful word, as she met Iskandel’s gaze head-on.
“I want our people to enjoy the same pleasures and comforts as those in the Capital. Instead of worrying about military supplies and emergency rations, I want them to fret over the flowers in their pots and gossip about a delicious new restaurant. I’m going to make every corner of this city so beautiful that it takes one’s breath away. I want word to spread far and wide that Durgtah is a truly lovely, wonderful place to live.”
Once she started, the wish she had cherished in silence for so long came pouring out, impossible to stop.
Just as Iskandel had done, she lifted the purple-dyed awning toward the sky.
“I want Durgtah to remain a beautiful place. Long, long after the god of war and his saintess have been forgotten by the world.”
Entrusting her wish to the thin fabric, she flicked the edge she was holding toward the sky.
The outstretched awning fluttered lightly before sinking back onto the clothesline.
Hashana watched it in silence, speaking again only after the broad cloth had settled completely.
“For that reason, I desperately need Your Highness’s help. As you saw on your way here, I am the creation of a goddess with a… terrible sense of aesthetics. I can’t solve this on my own.”
Iskandel offered a faint smile.
Meeting Hashana’s earnest gaze, he put on a show of serious consideration.
‘Things are going smoothly.
If I use urban development or beautification projects as a pretext, I can access crucial materials like Durgtah’s city plans and building layouts without arousing suspicion.’
Of course, there was always the possibility that the trust Hashana was showing him was all an act.
‘I’ll keep that in mind and play the part of a helpful, cautious ally.’
She didn’t rush him, simply waiting for his answer.
Iskandel met her steady, tranquil blue eyes, then pressed his lips together in a thoughtful expression and began to walk along the outer wall of the fortress.
They walked up the incline side by side in silence. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
After staring at his own feet for a long moment, stalling for time, Iskandel’s gaze fell on Hashana’s shoes.
The leather straps, embossed with a metal vine pattern, were scuffed and worn.
The sight of those shabby shoes was deeply unsettling, dredging up memories of his own past, and he jerked his gaze away as if fleeing.
The fluttering purple cloth receded behind them, and his vision filled with nothing but the pale brown of the fortress walls.
‘So this woman wants to dress her sandcastle in colors like that.’
The realization had nothing to do with his dark goals or ulterior motives; it simply swept through him like a gust of wind.
Just before understanding could curdle into sympathy, he broke his long silence.
“I will help you in any way I can.”
“Really?”
“In return, let’s keep this our secret.
Nothing good will come of people learning that the Saintess of War is preparing for a world without it.”
“Of course!”
He exchanged a smile with the happily nodding Hashana and gathered his thoughts.
Cooperating in a charade of war preparations versus helping create an environment where war is forgotten—these were two very different things.
For someone intending to bring Durgtah down from within, helping Hashana with all his might was far more advantageous.
The realization that her wish aligned so perfectly with his own malice made Iskandel’s stomach twist.
A queasy feeling, much like the light-headedness he felt when the herbs wore off, rose in his throat.
“Are you all right?”
Convinced his discomfort was due to the heat, Hashana reached out with a worried expression.
Her hand, accustomed to touching others, easily bypassed his defenses and pressed against his forehead.
“You have a slight fever. Let’s pay our respects to Rsanda quickly, and then you can get some proper rest.”
The divine power flowing from her palm soothed his churning stomach, and a dry, incredulous laugh escaped him.
Hashana was so beautiful, kind, and righteous it was almost unsettling.
The fact that he was trying to deceive such a person—to the point of feeling nauseated with guilt—struck him as strange and absurd.
Pathetic.
When her gentle touch withdrew, only the sound of their footsteps echoed along the deserted path.
As they climbed the slope, Hashana’s worried gaze brushed his cheek from time to time, and Iskandel deliberately smiled even more brightly.
He loathed himself for feigning a conscience now, after a lifetime spent cheating, dismissing, exploiting, and stabbing people in the back.
He swallowed dryly and rubbed the back of his neck.
The closer they drew to the temple, the harder it became to breathe.
The new cloak, incomparably lighter than the one he had worn on his way here, felt as if it were weighing down on his shoulders and choking him.
They were finally close enough to reach out and touch the temple that had seemed so impossibly far away when—
“Get out! I refuse to meet with an imperial spy!”
A roar so loud it made the stone floor beneath their feet vibrate crashed down over them.