The Forest at the Edge of the World(7)
The captain raised his menacing eyebrow again. “Concede?”
“After a good show, mind you,” the rector assured him enthusiastically. “Let the villagers see you, hear you, know you, and then pity you. You’ll be one of them by the end of Planting Season.”
The captain took in a deep breath, accentuating his broad chest.
The rector smiled and pointed at the large officer. “Good, good. Try to look handsome. That will help impress them.”
The captain reluctantly smiled back. “How could I possibly not?”
Rector Densal rubbed his bearded chin. “Clean uniform,” he gestured to the captain’s pristine, tightly woven dark blue woolen jacket and trousers. “But maybe not the dress uniform—too intimidating. Clean shaven,” he pointed to the captain’s exceptionally smooth chin and upper lip, as all members of the army were to have, “and . . . don’t wear the cap. Let the many unmarried women we have in Edge see that perfectly trimmed black hair of yours.”
The captain groaned. It must have been a common trait in rectors—a result of the calling—to try to change the condition of every single person they encounter. “I’m not here to find any unmarried women, Rector.”
“Even if they get lost? I think finding them would be your responsibility.” Densal chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Just let them admire such a cut of a man—that’s a good way to win hearts, Captain Shin! The minds—they might follow later.”
Captain Shin couldn’t help but chuckle. “All right, Hogal. Three days. The old school teacher. Impress the village, then let the naive woman think she’s won.”
“Wonderful, my boy! I look forward to it!” Hogal Densal slapped him on the back again and started to shuffle away.
Captain Shin turned again to study the forest and promptly forgot about his promise. He didn’t need to prepare for a debate. He never did, anyway. He’d just stand up there like he always did, his presence and size easily intimidating every opponent. Just a few well-stated comments and he’d have the debate all wrapped up. Right now he had far more pressing matters on his mind—a forest to know, a village to protect, and a High General to impress.
---
It was an intense staring match, but only one side knew it was happening.
The two brown-skinned men wearing green mottled tunics and trousers stood motionless in a thick stand of pines. They were surprised—not that someone was at the edge of the forest, but that someone was actually peering in. No one had done that in nearly 120 years. They didn’t expect the officer to see them, but it was the first time anyone had ever tried.
They didn’t move or make a sound, but watched as the captain slowly continued his way down the tree line.
---
That afternoon the school teacher made her way home to her small stone and wood planked house, and sighed in contentment at how perfect her life was. She enjoyed her students, loved her village, and adored her home.
For a woman as smart as she thought she was, that utter sense of satisfaction should have been a clear signal that things were about to change.
But people usually aren’t as clever as they hope they are, and the only thing she noticed as she walked up the stone steps of the front porch was her favorite rector coming down the road.
“Hogal Densal!” she called to him and paused before entering her house. “What brings you this way today?”
The old rector grinned and waggled his white eyebrows. “A proposal, Miss Mahrree!”
---
Eighty miles to the south stood the massive city of Idumea with its population of two hundred thousand. The seat of government resided near the center of it, with the headquarters of the Army of Idumea located a couple miles away at the new garrison.
From that garrison left the High General of Idumea, an appropriately imposing figure with a chest full of patches and medals that glinted in the sun as he rode his horse to the Administrator’s Headquarters. He travelled with only two lieutenants as guards, demonstrating to the people that scurried out of his way on the cobblestone roads that Idumea was so safe even the highest ranking officer in the world needed only minimal accompaniment.
The Administrative Headquarters had been finished the year before. It was a massive three-level edifice supported at the front by twenty-two white stone columns. For years King Oren tried to motivate his workers to complete the red and orange stone structure, but they failed to construct the pattern he had so carefully designed: burgundy stone winding through the orange rock background, as if an enormous pumpkin had sprouted red curling tendrils. When Mal took over he hired artisans—not laborers—to finish the project, and within three seasons the entire structure was completed. Eight moons later the interior was finished with highly polished stone floors and exquisitely appointed offices for each administrator and his aides.