After Rosia went to bed, several members of the envoy’s retinue, who had fallen asleep drunk, woke up and began causing trouble, demanding more alcohol. When the servants could not handle them, spearmen came and urged them to return to their lodgings. The men shouted that there was nothing in Daeier to spice up their drinking, insisting that beautiful women be brought to them or that the captains put on a spear technique demonstration. The people of Northern Maer were arrogant, and the taciturn spearmen did not know how to placate others, so the argument dragged on without end. When one particularly rude attendant said that the Daeier people were just like their guardian deity, the snow bird, Captain Medus lost his patience and asked what he meant by that.
“You went on about some legendary bird, but it’s nothing more than a stinking fat goose. It just sits there, thinking the inside of its cage is the whole world. Your spearmen, whom you believe to be the best, are the same. On the battlefields where the great southern kingdoms compete, you’re nothing but a bunch of backwater rabble.”
The spearmen were in no mood to endure such words. Those who might have stopped it were absent, as the night was already deep. The attendants were grabbed by the collars and dragged before the cage. Chilled by the cold wind, they came to their senses and begged for forgiveness, but if that were enough to let them go, they would not be Daeier spearmen. One by one, the attendants were kicked and thrown into the cage. Cutting through their screams for mercy, Captain Medus said,
“Go on, keep talking. See what happens when you wake a sleeping bird. Let’s see if that stinking fat goose keeps you alive until morning.”
When the incident became known the next morning, onlookers gathered in front of the cage. The state of the attendants became a tremendous spectacle. To survive until morning, they had huddled together in a corner of the cage, curled up and covered in rotten straw. The bird had its eyes closed, just as it had the day before.
Those who had long frowned at the envoys’ swaggering attitude found it amusing, but it was not something that would end there. When the envoy rushed over after hearing the news and shouted for them to be released immediately, the caretaker replied that he could not open the cage without the lord’s orders. The envoy flew into a rage, hurling curses, and also cursed at the attendants who were disgracing themselves inside the cage. As Rosia did not appear and only the crowd grew larger, the envoy’s fury mounted until he finally drew his sword and shouted that he would kill the bird. He threw the sword. It lodged in the bird’s nape. Or so it seemed.
The bird moved.
Its feathers slid, and one wing half spread and shuddered with a soft rush. Its bent neck slowly straightened and rose into the air. The eyes of the castle folk widened. Most of them were seeing the bird move for the first time. Murmurs spread in all directions. So it really did move. It really was alive.
Because of the size of the cage, the bird could not fully straighten its neck. It turned its awkwardly bent neck from side to side, then opened its eyes. The eyes of the bird everyone had forgotten were jade green. Amid the murmurs of awe, someone said,
“It looks like it’s looking that way.”
When the beak opened, sharp teeth packed inside were revealed. Just as the quick-witted sensed something ominous, Jaeim, who had just arrived, shouted,
“Let them out. Now.”
Hearing Jaeim’s order, the caretaker opened the door. As the attendants, who had been clumped together, tried to rise, the bird’s beak struck down. It was as fast as a lightning bolt.
“Aaah!”
Several women watching covered their faces. The rest froze. One man, pierced through the abdomen by the beak, died instantly. Another was bitten and lifted, his arm torn off. The survivors tried to flee, but their bodies, stiff from crouching all night, did not obey them. As they flailed, crawling and stumbling toward the entrance, two more were killed. By the time the cage door closed again, both the envoy and all the people had fled, leaving the area before the cage empty. Left alone, the bird calmly tore into the corpses and ate.
“They say that Northern Maer envoy asked for the bird to be killed.”
Kyprosa stared at the cage without a word. The bird had returned to its usual posture, but with the scattered pieces of bodies around it, it no longer looked as though it were sleeping. The bodies should have been collected, but no one dared to go inside.
“How?”
“They told us to feed it poisoned food. Shameless, really.”
Deni’s reply was delivered in an oddly sane tone. Kyprosa had not witnessed the morning’s commotion, but she had seen the envoy raging in front of Rosia, who looked strangely haggard. The envoy claimed that this was a grave insult, and that insulting him was the same as insulting the king of Northern Maer. The envoy was the king’s younger brother. The people of the castle whispered that it looked like war with Northern Maer was coming. After a long pause, Kyprosa spoke.
“Why did they capture that bird?”
Deni did not answer right away. It was known that Great-uncle Landry had captured the bird, together with a friend. Many people had forgotten that the friend was Mad Deni. And even more had forgotten that Deni was still called a mage only because Landry had introduced him as one.
“That bastard Landry…”
Landry Daeier had left Fir Tree Castle at twenty-four, returned ten years later, and died. Because Landry left, his younger brother Jaeim became lord. Almost no one remembered why he had left. It had been over forty years ago.
“He said he wanted to do something for the castle.”
“What use is that bird to the castle?”
Hearing Kyprosa say such a thing felt out of character. Deni laughed.
“It’s useless. That’s why the bastard was pathetic. Because of that damned bird, Jaeim had to build a cage. He couldn’t ignore a bird his older brother went to such trouble to catch. And how much has it cost, how much effort has it taken, just because of that bird? And now how much more trouble will this cause Rosia? He said he wanted to give the castle a gift, but what kind of gift is this? It’s not a gift at all. He left behind a pile of shit.”
“You’re being awfully harsh. He was your friend.”
Deni only snorted and did not reply. For a moment, only the stench drifted quietly between them. Kyprosa spoke again.
“I was thinking of taming that bird.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“That bird lives a thousand years. You won’t even live a hundred. In the bird’s life, you’re nothing more than a brief flicker of light. How could it ever be tamed?”
“How long did you spend with Great-uncle?”
Deni did not answer. Kyprosa was right. Landry and the mage Denistrios had spent only three years together. Those three years were what had turned him into Mad Deni and left him here. It had been over thirty years since then. Fir Tree Castle had swallowed him. No, it had tamed him.
That afternoon, Rosia ordered that the bird be killed the next morning. She also promised the envoy that they would march to war the following spring. The envoy insisted that it must be a full mobilization. For a full mobilization, the lord had to stand at the front. Smiling faintly, the envoy told Jaeim, who stood beside Rosia, to personally lead the spearmen.
Before dawn, Kyprosa slipped out of bed and went to the bird. It was deep winter, so she wore fur boots and wrapped herself in a cloak. Ice crunched beneath her feet. When the familiar fishy smell reached her, Kyprosa took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry.”
The bird still had its head tucked under its wing and did not move. Kyprosa stood there for a moment, watching her white breath drift in the air. Just before she turned to leave, she spoke again.
“I couldn’t keep my promise.”
The caretaker had gone to sleep, but like Captain Medus, Kyprosa knew well enough how to open the cage door. A person could enter through that door, but the bird could not leave. The bird had been placed in the cage when it was young and had grown up inside, never once able to come out. Of course there was no door meant for the bird.
Kyprosa raised both hands high, and white fire rippled at her fingertips. With those hands, she gripped the bars, waited a moment, then began to spread them apart. Thick iron bent under the hands of the girl. One bar pushed against another, and an opening was formed.
There was now enough space for the bird to leave, but it did not move. Kyprosa released the bars and stepped back.
“I don’t know why you stayed. Was it because of a promise you made to someone? Even if so, that person is gone now. And even if they were still here, they wouldn’t want to hold you back anymore. Thank you. For protecting the castle all this time.”
Kyprosa stepped back a few more paces and leaned against the wooden fence. Her breathing grew ragged.
“You can go now.”
The moment the words left her mouth, the bird lifted its head and came out through the opening Kyprosa had made. The girl watched as the bird spread its wings. Its feathers multiplied without end as it rose into the high sky, then swept the darkness away. Tears flowed. She did not know why. Where had all that filth gone? The bird was white, as if it had never been sullied for even a moment. It was the color of snow.
“Promise me you’ll go to the capital of the world. Fly in that sky for me. Please.”
Without answering, the bird soared upward. It did not carry the castle beneath its feet as in her dreams, but it departed in the most magnificent form Kyprosa would ever see in her life. When even the white speck vanished, the night sky grew faintly bright. Kyprosa returned to her room. The snow was frozen, and no footprints were left behind.
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