Chapter 100 - The Farm in Irttat
Chapter 100: Tower of Crows 08
"Why? I don't understand. Nature is so vast. Humanity has only scratched the surface of exploring it. A war of this scale... how could it destroy nature?"
Lucita shrugged. "Because of certain long-standing historical problems, the various layers of the current world are severely out of balance. Some are far too fragile and have never had the opportunity to grow. The entire world exists in a delicate equilibrium and is already in a precarious state."
"And a certain someone's generosity led her to give away far too much power. People have been consuming one another out of desire, never understanding the catastrophic consequences it could bring. Lately, I've even found myself considering reclaiming that power."
At that moment, something seemed to occur to her, and a spark suddenly flared in her eyes: "Reclaiming it! Of course... I could reclaim it..."
Vivian listened, thoroughly confused: "'A certain someone' — meaning..."
"Her. Exactly who you think it is." Lucita confirmed.
"And what are your intentions?" Vivian instinctively tightened her grip on her teacup, choosing her words with care.
"Some good progress has already been made." A pocket watch appeared in Lucita's palm. Of its four color sections, three showed varying shades of green. Only one remained in the dangerous orange zone: the world's magic layer, represented by humanity.
Vivian couldn't make sense of it, and Lucita had no patience to explain every detail. She glanced at the watch, put it away, and continued to summarize: "What I've been doing in the human world, you already know."
She had given them high-quality seeds sufficient to end hunger and remedies sufficient to treat illness. She had dug free music out of old dusty piles. She had brought the magical crops of the high towers into the sight of ordinary people.
She had taught people what freedom was, what ambition was, and then given them the means to pursue both.
"But it's too slow. The changes these things can bring are too slow for me to observe in any meaningful way." Lucita spoke earnestly. "I believe they'll lead to positive change, but events may not unfold the way I expect. From your perspective, you concluded that I intend to destroy this country."
Vivian attempted to object: "But if things continue this way, it really will—"
"You're right." To her surprise, Lucita gave a straightforward nod.
"What?"
"The unrest in the south has very little to do with me. But if I continue down this path, a war like that is only a matter of time." She spoke calmly, "So in a certain sense, when you said I intended to destroy this country, you weren't entirely wrong."
"Humanity originally possessed immense power, but you never knew it. It was monopolized within the towers. Generation after generation, people were left with no choice but to endure oppression and hunger. Once those in power obtained it, they forbade everyone else from creating."
"You said Lady Duren is your friend. In that case, what I'm talking about should be very familiar to you."
"You mean... magic?" Vivian asked in a near whisper.
Lucita nodded.
"If the towers had not imprisoned magic within them, the world layer occupied by humanity would never have become so fragile." She said, "Nothing can be built without first breaking what is old. If a heavy rain doesn't come to wash away those stale crowns and their rotting glory, new hope will never grow."
"This war is the last opportunity. If a new world cannot be built from it, this fragile layer may be destroyed entirely in the fires of war. The direction the war takes is crucial. That's why we have to intervene."
Vivian was sharp enough that once Lucita laid it out this clearly, much of what was left unsaid became clear on its own.
She echoed the words: "We?"
"Yes. We." Lucita's black eyes looked at her with sincerity. "I need your counsel, Vivian."
Vivian didn't meet her gaze.
Her gaze drifted beyond the balcony to the sunlit street below, a street so bright it seemed incapable of casting shadows: "So that's how it is..."
"Vivian?"
"Can I also have magic?" Vivian asked suddenly.
"Mm... of course."
Vivian raised an eyebrow and looked at Lucita without speaking.
Under Vivian's expectant gaze, Lucita found herself at a loss to refuse, and an exquisitely bound copy of Introduction to Sensory Magic appeared in her hand.
This was from her own collection in Irttat, inherited from her grandmother Sandy's library, a reprinted edition. The original was kept in the public library of Irttat.
She held the book out to Vivian: "Here. Consider it a loan."
"Thank you." Vivian didn't refuse, and reached out to take it.
"Actually, it doesn't particularly matter who wins the war," Vivian said, and now that she had been let into these secrets, her eyes were burning with an extraordinary brightness, and her slight frame seemed almost to ignite for the captivating mystery of it all: "What matters is — how, after destroying the rotting towers, you prevent new towers from rising."
Lucita: "Whoever holds absolute power — a new tower will inevitably emerge."
Vivian: "Then don't let anyone hold absolute power."
Lucita felt something jolt in her chest.
Vivian: "That sounds very difficult. Is it beyond even you?"
"I don't know." Lucita said. "Perhaps I have some ideas now."
Vivian half in jest: "Actually, there's a very simple answer: just make sure the one holding absolute power is you, and the one distributing power is you, and the problem is solved."
Lucita smiled: "You don't need to test me with that, Vivian."
Vivian sighed with what seemed like genuine sadness: "I only want everyone to be able to live happily, for the misfortunes of an era to never happen again."
"That's a truly difficult wish to fulfill."
The two exchanged a smile.
Lucita felt something settle in her heart. Vivian, holding the Introduction to Sensory Magic in her hands, felt a clarity she had never experienced before.
"In thanks for the loan," Vivian said, rising slowly to her feet, "let me play a piece for you."
"Thank you." Lucita readily accepted. "May I make a request?"
"No." Vivian declined without hesitation. "My time is short, and every piece I play is one fewer. I will play what I choose."
"What is it?"
"Vivian's Garden. I think you'll like it."
Vivian took up her cello. Lucita sat at the round table, her sole audience.
The sun was particularly gentle that day. The light poured down in great swaths, and the entire balcony seemed to be wrapped in a golden dream, warm enough to soften even the heart.
Vivian's figure, cradling the cello, cast a long shadow. The Virginia creeper, half-withered in the autumn, trembled in the light.
She smiled. The smile seemed slightly blurred around the edges.
This was the original soundtrack composed for the film of the same name. The composer and the creator of the film were the same person, and she sat right before Lucita now. Thin and worn to the bone, her expression gentle, that faintly tipsy-seeming sorrow moved Lucita deeply, without warning.
In the same spirit as the film's theme, this piece had been written about a youth she could no longer return to — the gatherings and warmth of a full, noisy household scattered by the tides of time, separated by mountains and seas, and those at the end of their lives left with nothing but the hollow expression of longing.
The cello's voice was low and resonant, like a stream murmuring through the darkness. Like an aging storyteller recounting a tale older than memory. Like the fragile wings of a pinned butterfly, shedding their final traces of dust.
"That must have been a beautiful time," Lucita said.
"Yes. It was." Vivian turned her head, looking toward where the light came from, remembering something Lucita could not see.
When the piece ended, she composed herself and turned back to Lucita: "So there will be such a day, won't there? A day of no more separation. A day of peace and happiness."
"It will return, that kind of era. The fires of war will one day be extinguished. We will have a better peace." Lucita sat up straight and said, word by word, with deliberate care: "I promise you."
Vivian tilted her head back and laughed: "Thank you for listening to my last wish."
Lucita opened her mouth, wanted to say something, and in the end said nothing at all.
When they parted, Vivian was not well enough to move around, and did not see her out.
As Lucita was going down the stairs, Vivian suddenly called after her from the top: "If I weren't sick today—!"
Lucita looked back.
"If I didn't have only a few days left to live, would you have told me any of this?" Vivian asked.
Lucita moved her brow slightly, then answered: "I haven't said a single untruth to you today, Vivian. My answer is: no, I would not."
Vivian was not surprised.
She said: "Whether or not you're human — whoever you are — I hope you'll be happy, Lucita."
"...Thank you. I will."
Lucita didn't look back again. She closed the door behind her, leaving that small standalone house in her wake.
Vivian did not have much time left. Lucita had always known this.
While the harvests kept people outside and foot traffic was at its peak over those few days, she had been wrapping up the seed shop's affairs. In this overcast evening, she received another letter.
It was the same familiar postal worker. Lucita, as she always did, snapped off an autumn rose to give her.
She opened the letter — also from Bluebell Street, number eleven. Inside was the Introduction to Sensory Magic she had lent out.
Her heart sank. She opened the book.
Tucked inside was a page of notepapers. The handwriting looked somewhat unsteady, but through the wavering, the owner's bold and upright foundation was still faintly visible.
"Lucita:
Thank you. The feeling of pulling the evening breeze through the bellflowers was wonderful.
I regret that I only stepped into this world during my final days, but even that brief moment was beautiful enough.
I truly wish everyone could perceive such beauty. We had infinite possibilities.
Your one-sided friend,
Vivian"
Lucita's heart sank. In a few steps she folded the city's space and passed through it, alighting in an instant across from number eleven, Bluebell Street.
This time the front gate was open. Several black-clad gentlewomen in feathered hats and carrying walking sticks were going in and out. One of them was making notes in a little book.
Her heart sank further.
She stepped forward and asked the middle-aged woman who was writing: "The person who lived here was a friend of mine. What is happening here, may I ask?"
The woman glanced up at her: "You're a friend of Cesar's?"
Lucita nodded.
"You didn't know she passed away?" The woman asked, with a faint note of surprise. "The day before yesterday, she died of tuberculosis. The risk of contagion made the remains difficult to handle, but fortunately she had arranged things in advance with the law office, and left some funds for the process. Some of her kind colleagues helped hire people to transport the remains out of the city."
Only then did Lucita notice what the woman was recording, item by item, all of the valuable furniture in the house.
Desk, wardrobe, instrument stand, wall lamp, entered one by one into the thin little register in the woman's hands. These were the only traces that Vivian had left behind in the world.
"This is..."
"Ownerless property. The government will reclaim these items and auction them off. The proceeds will go toward building an orphanage, or an asylum, or some such charitable institution. The empty house will be returned to the landlord." Seeing that Lucita was well-dressed, the woman took the patience to offer an extra word of explanation.
Lucita opened her mouth. At last she asked: "Where will her remains be taken?"
"Go out through the east gate of the city, and to the southeast you'll see a forest. They take the bodies of people who died of contagious illness deep into that forest."
"...Thank you."
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