Chapter 3 Chapter two

I'm sure Saryon would have screamed in confusion and delight, but he remembered in time the order not to raise his voice.He got up from the bed and wanted to give his old friend a warm hug, but Duxis shook his head and waved Saryon to stay on the bed.Despite the heavy shadows in the bedroom, the light from outside still revealed the silhouette of the catalyst saint. Saryon could only stammer, "Mosiah...I can't...I'm sorry, dear boy...you know, I'm old and my brain...let alone my eyes..." "No need to apologize, Father," Mosiah's tone seemed to have returned to his old style, but it didn't match his current appearance. "I've changed a lot over the years. It's no wonder you didn't recognize me."

"You have indeed changed." Saryon said solemnly, and at the same time glanced sadly at the law enforcement black robe on Mosiah. Mosiah seemed a little surprised. "I thought you'd heard that I became a Duke. Because Prince Jarod already knew." "I rarely communicate with the prince." Saryon said apologetically. "He told me that it would keep me safe. Of course, he respected me. I know that keeping in touch with me would be politically damaging to him." . And that's the main reason I left the resettlement camp." Now it was Mosiah looking at Saryon sadly.Catalyst Saints look devastated with confusion and guilt.

"I... think this is for the best." Saryon said, blushing. "There are people staring at me... Even if they don't blame me, I'll remind them of..." His voice fell away. "Someone out there said you abandoned them for yourself," Mosiah said. I can't keep silent any longer.With a quick and violent gesture, I asked Mosiah to stop this cruel speech.These words hurt my master. Mosiah looked at me in surprise, not wondering why I didn't speak (as a law enforcement officer, he must already know everything about me, including that I am dumb), but why I was so eager to protect Sha lyon.

"This is Reuven." Saryon introduced me. Mosiah nodded.Like I said, he must already know everything about me. "He's your secretary," said Mosiah. "He asked me to call him that." Saryon gave me a loving smile. "But I've always thought it would be more appropriate to call him 'son'." I feel my skin heat up with pleasure, but I just shake my head.Even Emin knew that he loved me like a father, but I would never accept his favors so disrespectfully. "He can't talk." Saryon explained my misfortune to him without embarrassment.

I don't have any bad feelings either.Many people have flaws that accompany them throughout their lives, and that's normal.As I expected, Mosiah already knew about me.His subsequent words bear this out. "Reuven was only a child when the Rupture (the term now used by the Simharun to describe the destruction of their lives) occurred. He was orphaned at the time. His brutal experience took away his ability to speak. You find When he was born, he was seriously ill and was abandoned on the holy mountain. He was brought up in the family of the Prince Jarod, received education in the resettlement camp, and was sent by the prince to your side to record the history of the Dark Sword. I've read that book." Mosiah said to me again with a polite smile, "You're very accurate about history."

I'm used to all kinds of compliments on my work, so I didn't answer.Defending a man's efforts is never to glorify him.Mosiah is a central figure in my record, but I'm just documenting the facts. "As for saying that I'm leaving the resettlement camp," Saryon continued his previous topic, "I did what I thought was the best choice for everyone." His hand holding the teacup began to tremble.I stood up, walked to him, took the teacup in his hand, and put it on the small table. "This house is very nice." Mosiah glanced around, his eyes a little cold. "Your studies in mathematics and Reuven's literary work allowed you to enjoy a comfortable life. Our people in the resettlement camps couldn't live like this—"

"If they want, they can." The old spirit flashed across Saryon. I know Saryon, I know his past, I guess it must be with this spirit that he can find the forbidden book in the library of the Holy Mountain; with this spirit, he helped Joram forge the Dark Sword; Facing the punishment of transformation, he kept his soul with great courage, even though his body had been turned into stone. "Those camps aren't surrounded by gillnets." Saryon's spirits were rising. "When we first got there, there were guards at those gates, to keep outsiders from prying eyes, not to keep our men from leaving. Those guards should have gone long ago, but our men begged them to stay. Everyone in the camp can enter this new world and find their place.

"But did they do that? No! They were just clinging to a hopeless dream of returning to Simharon. What did they want to go back to and find? A dead wasteland. Simharun hasn't changed since we left. She will not change, no matter what we expect. The magic is gone!" Saryon's voice was low, painful, and trembling. "It's gone, and we should accept that it's gone." "Earthlings don't like us," said Mosiah. "They like me!" Saryon's voice became clear and powerful again. "Of course, they don't like you. Because you refuse to associate with 'mortals'. Although many of them have magic in them as strong as you, you still avoid them and isolate yourself. That's why they use suspicion and mistrust. It is the same pride and arrogance that destroyed our world and landed us in those resettlement camps. It is the same pride and arrogance that nailed us there!"

I think Mosiah is about to speak, but unless he raises his voice there is no way to interrupt my master.Now my master is touching upon his favorite subject, that is to say—he stands on the soapbox—a curious and amusing expression which I have learned from the natives of this world. In fact, Mosiah was clearly moved by the speech.At first he didn't speak, just sat there thinking for a while. "You're telling the truth, Father," he said. "Or, the first half of it is the truth. We should get out of the camp and into the world. But it's not pride that keeps us behind those fences, it's fear. It's a Weird and scary world! Oh, admittedly, Earthlings have their sociologists, psychologists, legal advisors, and their teachers to help us 'adapt', but I suspect they're doing us more harm than help. The more they It is to show us the wonders of this world, the further we get away from them.

"Pride, yes, we have our pride," he continued, "but it's not our fault. Our world is beautiful, and she has a lot of good things." Mosiah leaned forward, putting her elbows on the On his lap, staring earnestly at Saryon. "Earthlings don't believe her beauty, Father. Even the soldiers who went there couldn't believe what they saw! When they came back, they were laughed at by other Earthlings, so they began to doubt their own sanity. They said Those are all illusions that we deceive them and let them see." Mosiah shrugged. "Those 'scholars' were kind at first, and tried to understand us, but it was beyond their reach. Our world was too strange for them! When they saw a twenty When a young woman aged 20 years old, who by their standards was otherwise healthy and normal, but just lay in bed all day, they didn't understand what had happened to her. When they were told that she was lying in bed because she was used to relying on Wings of magic floated in the air, and she had never walked a step in her life, and never liked to walk, and she was only doing that now because she had no magic anymore. But they just couldn't believe it.

"Oh yes, I know they act understanding and accepting. All their medical tests show that this girl has never walked. But deep down in their hearts, at their most basic level, they don't believe .Like they don't believe the fairies you wrote in your book, Reuven. "Have you ever told your neighbors the story of your visit to the Goblin, Father? Have you ever told the woman who lives next door, a real estate agent's secretary, that you were once almost seduced by the Goblin Queen?" Saryon's face flushed instantly.He stared down at the sheets, absently brushing off some biscuit crumbs. "Of course not. I don't think it's fair to try to make her understand that. Her world is so... different..." "Your book," Mosiah shifted his penetrating gaze to me. "People read them and love them. But they don't believe the stories. Do they? They don't believe that there ever was such a world, that there were people like Joram. I've even heard people think you're pretending to be disabled on purpose , to avoid being interviewed by reporters. Because you are afraid that reporters will expose your fraudulent practices.” Saryon glanced at me worriedly, unaware that I had heard such accusations.He has always tried his best to protect me.So I was careful to show him that I didn't care what those people said.Actually, I really don't care.I don't care what other people think as long as my work pleases one--my lord. "And the strange thing is that their perception of us has gradually drifted towards two extremes." Mosiah said: "They don't believe us, they don't understand us, but they are afraid of us. They are afraid that we will regain the feeling that they don't know. The power to believe. They want to prove to themselves and to us that that power never existed. What they fear, they destroy. They're trying to do that." An uneasy silence fell between us.Saryon blinked and tried to suppress a yawn. "It's time for you to sleep." Mosiah suddenly returned to the topic of reality. "Sleep! Don't disrupt your routine." Now, as is customary, I should say goodnight to my master, retire to my bedroom, finish some writing, and go to bed.I did so, walked upstairs, and turned on the light.Then I crouched in the shadow of the stairs and climbed down again.Mosiah didn't seem very happy to see me again.But I think he understands that unless I'm dead, don't try to drive me away from my master. Saryon's room was now completely dark.We sit in the dark.Of course, because of the street lights outside the window, it wasn't too dark here.Mosiah pulled the chair over to Saryon's bed. The CD stereo was still on.Saryon used to fall asleep to music.It was long past his bedtime, but he stubbornly refused to admit that he was tired.Curiosity keeps him awake, fighting his own needs.I know how he feels because I do too. "Forgive me, Father," said Mosiah. "I don't want to be dragged back to the old road. Indeed, that road has long been overgrown with thorns, and it no longer leads anywhere. Twenty years have passed, and the young girl who was twenty is now forty." Housewife. She learned to walk, and used her hands to do things that were done by magic. She learned to live in this world. Maybe she even began to believe some of the things that mortals told her. A beautiful memory, a world that only became real in a dream. Who could blame her if she had been obsessed with returning to that magical world, to that wonderful and magical place from the first place?" "A beautiful world, yes," Saryon said, "but there is ugliness there too. Denying the ugliness only makes the ugliness even more terrifying." "The ugliness is in people's hearts, not in the world itself." Mosiah asked, "Isn't it, Father?" "Yes, indeed." Saryon sighed. "And the ugliness is still there," Mosiah continued.His tone was different from before, a little nervous.This made the two of us glance at each other and perk up.We all have a feeling that a storm is coming. "You haven't been back to camp for many years," Mosiah said suddenly. Saryon shook his head. "You haven't been in touch with Prince Jarod or anyone else? Do you really know nothing about what happened to our people?" Saryon looked ashamed, but he could only shake his head.At this moment, I would rather give anything for the ability to speak.Mosiah's tone contained accusations against my master.I will defend my master in the strongest terms possible.Saryon understood my unquenchable anger, and he patted me gently to remind me of the need to be patient. Mosiah said nothing, perhaps considering how to begin the conversation.After a long time he said: "You insisted that we could leave the camp of our own volition, as you did. Maybe at first, but not now. "The mortal guards left us years ago. They kept their word, and they fought to protect us, as they were ordered to do. But they were not enough for the task. After several guards died, more After many of the guards fled, the mortal army withdrew. In place of the mortal guards were our own men." "Who is fighting? Who is attacking you? I have never heard of such a thing." Saryon said: "Forgive my doubts about you, Mosiah, but if such a terrible thing really happened, the whole world Journalists would run to the camp." "They went, Father. The Kantic sages talked to them. The reporters believed the lie, they couldn't help believing it. The Kantic sages wrapped a bitter lie in magic nectar." "Sages of Kantik? Who are they?" Saryon was very confused.The shock made him stutter when he spoke. "Prince Garrod...how could he...he should never have allowed..." "Prince Jarod became a prisoner, because he loved his people, so he became a hostage." "Prisoner!" Saryon gasped. "Is he imprisoned by... mortals?" "No, not mortals, nor our law enforcement officers." Mosiah smiled. "I know you're suspicious of us." "Who could that be? Or some other creature?" Saryon asked. "They call themselves Tekenduke. If they are expressed in mortal language, they are technologists. They pour their lives into death. The most terrifying thing is..." Mosiah lowered his voice. "They draw their life force from death. Their magical power does not come from the living, as in Simharon, but from the death of the living. Do you remember the man who called himself the magician Manju? The man who thought Who is going to murder Joram?" Saryon shuddered. "Yes." He said in the same low voice. "He's one of them. I know them," Mosiah added. "I was one of them myself." Saryon stared at Mosiah in horror, unable to utter a word.Now it can only be communicated by me, the dumb.I made a gesture, pointing first to Mosiah, then to Saryon and myself, indicating that I was asking why Mosiah came to us at this time with such a message?What does this have to do with us?Mosiah understood my gestures and read my questions in my mind. "I'm here because they're coming here too. Their leader, a Kantic sage named Coffin Smither, is coming to talk to you tomorrow. Dukexis has chosen me to warn you. They know I'm the only one you can trust." "Dukesis," Saryon muttered in confusion. "Dukesis wants to gain my trust, so they sent Mosiah, a Dukes, a former technologist. Tech freak. Life force from death." Then Saryon looked up. "Why me?" he asked.But he knew the answer, as I did. "Joram," Mosiah answered, "they want Joram. Or should I say, they want the Dark Sword." Saryon's lips twisted.At this time I realized that the master was shrewd, even cunning.It's just that a gentle and honest gentleman doesn't deserve that kind of evaluation.Although he didn't know about the messages brought by Mosiah, Saryon knew the purpose of his visit from the beginning, but never mentioned it.He was buying time, getting information.I couldn't help but look at him with reverence. "I'm sorry, Mosiah," said Saryon, "but you, Prince Jarod, that Coffin Smither, and many others are wasting your time. I can't take you to Joram, Joram cannot give you the Dark Sword either. Our situation is well described in Reuven's book." Saryon shrugged. "The Dark Sword no longer exists. When Joram stabbed it into the altar of the sept, it was destroyed. Even if Joram wanted to, he could not give you the sword." Mosiah didn't look surprised or annoyed, or stand up and apologize for bothering us needlessly. "There is a Dark Sword, Father. Not the original one. As you say, that one has been destroyed. But Joram has forged a new one. We know this fact because someone once Tried to steal it."