Unnamed Memory - Volume 5 - Chapter 1

1. Shellwork Memory

“Once I’m dead, you’ll know for the first time what I was and what you are.”

“What, Father?” the young man asked, stunned by his father’s sudden declaration at the dinner table. He paused while bringing a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “What’s this all about? Why are you talking about dying?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” his father answered dismissively. “This world has a way of balancing the books to make up for how things were altered. One person’s salvation means another’s downfall, and one country’s glory ensures another’s decline. Ultimately, it will all converge on a future that’s not so different from how it should have been.”

The words seemed like nonsense. The son opened his mouth to inquire further, but the father held up a hand to stop him. “Stay quiet and just listen to me. Anyway, won’t shooting for that convergence mean we wind up with a future that’s totally immutable? This present that we’re in now, the one that was so far in the future for the people of the ancient past, is still being altered. Humans will keep challenging themselves for all eternity—so long as those orbs exist.”

“Orbs?”

“They possess a terrible power and keep sticking pins in the world. With every new prick, the world is dismantled and forced to reconstruct itself based on washed-up memories. It must be profoundly agonizing for the world. And we are the only ones who know of that pain.”

The young man didn’t interrupt his father’s story. He stayed silent, as an odd feeling settled over the room.

“The world cannot tolerate its memory being overwritten forever. But what it will truly become unable to suffer is us. In the end, we are mere mortals. Our minds are fragile. Our lot is to be used as tools and cast aside… No, we are eternal slaves who are never allowed to be thrown away.”

His voice took on a resentful tone. He wasn’t shouting, but his words shook with a deep fury.

The father was swift to rein in that anger before his son. And as he stared at his child, he went on. “The world is waiting for one last straw. That which will undo all the interventions and restore it to its original shape.”

There was an emptiness in his eyes as he whispered the words. Then he dropped his gaze to his knees. “But that won’t happen in my lifetime.”

Heavy despair showed through in that pronouncement. By the time his son finally understood the meaning of his words…

By the next day, his father had hanged himself on a tree in the garden.

Farsas Castle was a massive structure. Inhabitants frequently couldn’t see the ends of the hallways they traveled along. Unlike the castle in Tuldarr, which had been expanded and added onto many times since the nation’s founding, Farsas’s had been designed to be huge from the start.

“Must be because it was built over an underground lake,” said a stunningly beautiful woman with black eyes and hair as she made her way down a hall.

Passing magistrates and ladies-in-waiting turned their heads to look at her, despite knowing it was rude. In her eyes, as dark and mysterious as a moonless night, they found only the pronounced innocence of a girl.

Clad in a white mage’s robe, she sauntered down the long hallway with arms crossed, when a bright feminine voice called out from behind her.

“Princess Tinasha!”

She turned at the sound of nearing footsteps and spied two familiar mages. “Sylvia and Doan,” she greeted them.

The blond woman who had called out grinned and curtsied, while the calm young man next to her gave a bow. Both were mages who served the court of Farsas and were relatively close with Tinasha, even though she was a visitor from a bordering country.

Sylvia glanced down at Tinasha’s feet. “What happened to your shoes?”

“Shoes?” Tinasha asked, following Sylvia’s gaze. Her ivory feet were bare, floating a little above the ground. Her eyes widened in surprise as she raked a hand through her black hair. “I didn’t even notice. I was too deep in thought.”

“Your research?” Sylvia questioned.

The most likely target of a mage’s focused concentration would be their own magic research.

The future queen of Farsas’s neighbor, the Magic Empire of Tuldarr, nodded. “I’m a little stuck on something… but I think I’ll figure it out soon.”

“Ah, I know what that must be,” said Doan, alluding to the most highly classified secret in all of Farsas.

When the young king of Farsas was a young boy, a witch cursed him. Any woman carrying his child would die before the child could be born. The curse was so strong that even the royal chief mage and the king of Tuldarr were incapable of undoing it. Tinasha was presently analyzing the magic herself in an attempt to break it.

There were only three witches in all the land, and there were two reasons why Tinasha was qualified to unravel their spells.

The first was that she herself was a former queen of Tuldarr who bore the title of Witch Killer Queen. The other was that she had personally examined a nullified version of that exact curse when she was younger.

A man from four hundred years in the future had come to rescue Tinasha from danger, and he had possessed the impotent version of the curse.

Though he claimed he would be Tinasha’s husband one day, in the end, he vanished after saving her. In exchange for sacrificing everything, he rewrote history and Tinasha’s fate.

He was also the owner of a royal sword that could nullify magic. His name was Oscar.

In the present age, he was king of Farsas, and now that the past had been altered, he possessed no memory of Tinasha. But she didn’t mind.

Tinasha and Oscar were different from the versions who had married each other. They were totally separate people who had met afresh.

That was precisely why she had to be the one to break his curse.

“I need to undo it, but I’ve hit a snag… I’m looking for one last flash of inspiration,” Tinasha explained.

“Ah, right. That last stretch can be tricky,” Doan said with a wry grimace. Court mages like him held just about the highest position a mage could reach; there were fewer than five hundred throughout every country combined. The best of them spent much of their time sequestered in research, so Doan sympathized with what it was like to hit a mental wall.

Tinasha floated along barefoot, stretching both her arms up overhead. “I’m really struggling with it… but I know there has to be a way within the laws of magic…”

Curses and blessings were constructed from the spell caster’s own unique language, but as long as they utilized magic, they were still bound by its rules and limits. No matter how inspired the idea or technology used for the spell was, it shouldn’t have been beyond understanding and deconstructing.

Thus, the real challenge came from whatever was working against those laws, rather than from the witch’s curse.

The magic orb that had once sent a different Oscar backward in time now lay in the Tuldarr treasure vault, while one of another color was stored in Farsas’s treasure vault.

Once someone used the sphere, history would be erased and rewritten with a new timeline that started from the point in time at which the user arrived. What was the original purpose in creating such a devastating thing that went against all laws of magic?

As Tinasha considered it, doubts flooded her mind until it was all she could think about.

“A new law… no, that’s not it. They don’t contradict one another.”

A primary tenet of the laws of magic was that time could not be rewound. It continued to flow. There was leeway to dam its streaming for a bit, but there was no turning it back. That was the letter of the law and the hard-and-fast way the world operated. Past eras existed in memories.

“Then what about overwriting a law with a different one? Or does the orb contain its own unique rules? But where would a different law come from in the first place? Since going back in time is tantamount to reconstructing the entire world…”

“Princess Tinasha, your thoughts are getting a little worrisome,” Doan remarked with concern as he walked a step behind her. He would have liked to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, and his harsh but honest remark made Tinasha silence her whispering.

Instead, Sylvia piped up in a cheerful voice. Apparently, she hadn’t heard anything. “Oh yes, did you know rumors are flying in the city about today’s garden party?”

“Garden party? Rumors?” Tinasha repeated.

“Hey, Sylvia…,” Doan chided.

Tinasha hadn’t been informed of the event. During the two days following her involvement in a conflict with Yarda, one of Farsas’s neighbors, Tinasha had been shut up in her room, focusing on analyzing the curse.

While Doan’s expression was strained, Sylvia flashed him a grin. “Aww, but it’s the talk of the town. The word on the street is that the garden party today might be a way for His Majesty to choose a bride!”

“…”

A long, unpleasant silence fell over the trio. Doan let out a heavy sigh before pasting a professional smile on his face and bowing. “I seem to have recalled something I need to do. I will be taking my leave.”

“Hold it,” Tinasha called, her voice imbued with power, and Doan was rendered unable to move. The young mage cursed himself for missing his chance to escape earlier.

Tinasha cast him a brilliant grin. “Now that I’ve heard such interesting news, I insist you tell me all about it.”

“The garden party tradition started three generations ago with King Regius. He would invite the city’s merchants and artisans to display their pieces and sell their wares,” Sylvia explained.

“Oh, so it was a way for him to gather everyone he was keeping an eye on,” Tinasha surmised.

“Exactly. It’s a potentially life-changing opportunity for dealers, and they promote themselves with everything they have. Very often, a merchant’s business explodes after becoming an official provider for the crown,” Sylvia went on.

After the trio headed to the lounge to continue their conversation, Sylvia launched into the details of the garden party. Her eyes were dancing, and there wasn’t a shred of ill intention in her as she sipped her tea.

“So then it became a chance for the merchants’ daughters, who came along to assist their parents, to catch the eyes of noblemen. And remember, our last queen was a commoner herself.”

“All of this is just the townsfolk getting themselves all worked up,” added Doan, looking resigned. Ordinarily, he didn’t like to get himself involved in any sticky disagreements, and he could sense that this was going to put Tinasha in a bad mood. Based on her behavior, it was a reasonable fear. Still, Tinasha was about to take the Tuldarr throne and possessed good judgment.

As Tinasha savored the aroma wafting from her teacup, she asked, “The king first fell in love with Oscar’s mother at one of these parties?”

“No, I believe he brought her back to the castle with him one day. He met her after sneaking out for some fun,” Doan replied.

“Sneaking out… Like father, like son…”

“As I recall, her family was opposed to the union, so her origins remained a secret. No one from the late queen’s family attended her funeral,” Sylvia said.

“Hmm…”

Tinasha had a feeling that even Oscar didn’t know the whole story.

His mother had been the one to bring the very orb that took him back in time into Farsas. What’s more, Oscar had enough magic in him to surpass the average mage, although it was sealed away. The previous king didn’t possess a drop of magic, so it was very likely that his mother had been a mage.

Yet while all of that was intriguing, Oscar’s mother was dead, and this was all another nation’s business. Tinasha knew it wasn’t something to concern herself with. It would be a matter for Oscar’s future queen to ponder.

Elbows on her knees, Tinasha rested her chin in her hands. “I wonder who he’ll marry.”

“Princess Tinasha, may I excuse myself? I believe I have a stomachache,” Doan said.

“I’m not going to do anything!” she shot back. It was her own fault that the man didn’t trust her, but she was displeased that he was so obviously wary.

As Tinasha puffed up her cheeks with indignation, Sylvia clapped her hands together. “I know! Why don’t you attend the garden party?”

“What? But I’m a foreign visitor. I think Oscar would get mad if he found me there.”

The young king had often urged her not to sneak out on her own, as she was a precious resource. He would undoubtedly be vexed if she made an appearance during a gathering of merchants and artisans.

Tinasha tried to change the subject, but Sylvia waved a hand dismissively. “You just have to not get caught. Oh, I know! You can use a curse song to disguise yourself!”

“Curse songs aren’t powerful enough for that… and Oscar will be on guard from the moment I sing,” Tinasha objected.

“Then we’ll use some other method! Don’t old spell books have transformation spells?”

“Transformation spells? I did learn some when I was younger,” Tinasha admitted.

The magic altered the physical body itself instead of creating illusions, as curse songs and other techniques did. It was an ancient advanced magic that Tinasha had indeed been instructed in four hundred years ago. However, she only knew the theory behind it, and had never put it into practice.

Tinasha cast back through her memories. “I don’t feel capable of changing myself to anything nonhuman… but I could likely manage something simple like changing my age.”

“Let’s try it, then! I’ll get your costume ready! You should pretend to be a town girl and set your sights on marrying the king!” Sylvia chirped.

“But I’m not after that!” Tinasha protested.

“I believe it’s time for me to be taking my leave… I don’t want to quit my job as court mage just yet,” Doan said faintly. In sharp contrast to his discreet worry, Sylvia was in high spirits and bursting with excitement.

Tinasha folded her arms, gazing at the pair. “Only for a little while. I’ll leave if it looks like I’m about to get scolded.”

“It’ll be fine if you don’t get caught! Leave it to me!” Sylvia reassured her with totally baseless confidence as she tugged Tinasha out of her seat.

Doan watched them depart the lounge and let out a long sigh as he rubbed at his aching stomach.

Later that afternoon, tables and quilts were spread on the grass in the castle courtyard as townspeople who had brought their finest wares bustled about. Rows of crystals glittered on a black cloth next to a stand with a display of elaborately wrought clockwork boxes. All sorts of treasures were on exhibit as the merchants hustled to and fro.

Everyone’s greatest hope was to catch the king’s fancy, but this event still promised to be a significant business opportunity for them, even if they failed at that. One could still be made a royal purveyor if their goods enticed a castle official. And if they managed to forge a connection with a famous merchant, that could be their ticket to international trade. What kind of opportunity awaited them depended on effort and luck.

For those reasons, all attendees had been highly motivated to make the most scrupulous preparations—including the merchants’ daughters, who aspired to something a bit different. Ostensibly, they were there to assist their families. But they also harbored dreams of a fairy-tale ending, despite knowing it was unlikely.

These girls were visibly excited and restless upon sighting the king in the courtyard. While they didn’t squeal or shriek, they shot him looks heavy with longing.

The king’s attendant and childhood friend, Lazar, wore a faint smile. “They were at it last year, too, but it seems like there are even more girls this time.”

“It’ll get out of hand if their numbers continue to increase. I don’t have time to search for a bride,” Oscar replied while inspecting a nearby table of delicate handmade items. Impressed by the artisan’s thorough craftsmanship, he picked up an accessory case. “This is well made. Very interesting. I’ll take it.”

“Th-thank you very much!” answered the merchant, whose prestige would rise after having sold to the king. Joy was writ large on his face as Lazar handled the purchase. Meanwhile, Oscar slipped the shellwork case into his jacket pocket. That done, his eye turned to other goods.

As he made his way around the courtyard, the palpable sense of anticipation in the air reached a fever pitch. Much of it was coming from the young girls, and Oscar made sure to keep his expression free of the cynical smile that threatened to tug at his lips.

When he’d made his way around half of the sellers, a girl came running up to him from the crowd. Her cheeks were flushed with nervous tension as she curtsied before him. “Would you mind terribly if I accompanied you, Your Majesty?”

The young woman’s brazen offer made all the other young women stare at her with shock and envy.

Oscar’s eyes widened for a moment, caught off guard as he was, but then he grinned lightly. “I appreciate that, but I’m all right.”

“Oh, but…,” the girl protested.

“In that case, allow me to accompany you,” offered another young lady.

“No, let me—”

The girls began to close in. While the anxious anticipation in the air dissolved, it was now filled with the din of their entreaties, which clearly made the king’s guards uneasy.

At a complete loss about what to do, Lazar looked up at Oscar. “Your Majesty…”

He seemed to be suggesting that Oscar take his leave for the moment. For a second, Oscar couldn’t decide how to answer him.

Despite the garden party’s humble origins, it was an official affair nowadays. The merchants and artisans who attended submitted samples of their wares to the castle ahead of time. The king and royal experts on each type of craft reviewed the application, so there was very little need for Oscar to attend in person and cause a stir.

The dealers were all aware of that. Many of them pursed their lips at the disturbance and turned disapproving looks on the hopeful young women.

As Oscar scanned the crowd, his gaze suddenly landed on a girl standing some distance away in the shade of a tree. Her red hair was tied up in a ponytail, and she wore a white apron. With her freckled face and slightly scuffed wooden clogs, she was the picture of an ordinary town maiden.

But… there was something different in her eyes.

Blazing as they were with some potent, very fierce emotion, those eyes seemed to carry the power to captivate anyone with a single look. She was entirely unlike her peers.

Oscar’s gaze narrowed as if against the sunlight. Once he recognized how he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her, he sighed quietly.

Turning his attention back to everyone else, he proclaimed, “All right, then. This is a wonderful opportunity for me to show someone around the castle. That said, I can’t take everyone.”

He looked around at the crowd thoughtfully. Then he beckoned to the girl under the tree. “Yes, you’ll do. Come along.”

“Um…,” the girl said, her expression seizing up. Her eyes darted about, as though hoping to spot an escape. Upon realizing that everyone was staring her way, she pursed her lips.

She looked down and away as her cheeks turned pink. “Thank… you very much. I accept.”

The girl made her way through the crowd as others lobbed envious looks at her all the while. She followed half a step behind Oscar, and as they departed this section of the garden, the feverish atmosphere vanished like a wave pulling out to sea. Deflated, those remaining returned to their work. The bustle of activity in the courtyard settled back down to more relaxed levels.

Meanwhile, the king and the young lady were silent as they ventured deeper into the castle gardens.

Once they were out of sight of prying eyes, the girl eked out in a small voice, “Um, Your Majesty… why me?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“No… you do not,” she replied, cowering at his retort. Her last bit of hope had vanished, and her pink cheeks turned pale.

Oscar wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. But he knew what he had glimpsed. Once the two reached an open patch of lawn, he sat down on the grass. The girl hurried to take a seat beside him.

The king glanced at that freckled face and then abruptly reached out to pinch one soft cheek. “What’s going on here? How did you do this?”

“Ow, ow, ow! Stop it! I just transformed myself with magic!” she confessed, ducking her head to get away from his hand and rubbing at her reddened cheek. “How did you know it was me?”

Altered though it was, Tinasha’s face looked as it always did to Oscar. Her innocent eyes were just as spirited. There was no mistaking them.

Oscar met that gaze evenly with a blank look of his own. All sorts of retorts came to mind, but he gave a safe answer in the end. “No amount of magic can hide power as strong as yours. You’re giving off the faintest glow.”

“Oh… I suppose your intuition was always pretty strong,” Tinasha replied, burying her face in her hands. Immediately, her red locks reverted to their original inky black. Her suntanned skin became alabaster, and she dropped her hands. Her face, in all its unparalleled beauty, peered up at Oscar.

The queen who had come from four hundred years ago to save Oscar gave him an abashed, guilty smile. “I’m sorry. I simply wanted a little break.”

“You should’ve just told me, then.”

“I also heard you’d be looking for a wife.”

“Listen… Don’t try to marry me disguised as someone else,” he stated gravely. “It’ll turn into a diplomatic crisis.”

“I wasn’t! I just didn’t want to get in your way!” Tinasha objected, but her actions spoke differently.

Despite her status as the future queen of Tuldarr, she had taken reckless action time and again to break Oscar’s curse while staying in Farsas. She had even used herself as bait in a fight. Naturally, Oscar was always wary of what she might pull next, but he’d assumed she would behave herself with her coronation nearing. Tinasha was the type of person to ultimately prioritize her responsibilities above her own wishes, which was why she would soon be leaving Farsas.

She made a guilty face. “I did get in the way of your work. I’m very sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just about to leave anyway,” replied Oscar. The garden party was an event his eccentric great-grandfather had started. It held no actual use. Tinasha’s presence actually provided Oscar with a chance to leave early.

From his pocket, Oscar drew out the shellwork object he’d purchased earlier and dropped it in Tinasha’s lap. “Here.”

“What? Is this for me?”

“You’ve never been to the seashore, right?”

Upon her imminent ascension to the throne, Tinasha would lose a lot of her freedom. While Oscar was a king as well, the court of Farsas was far more open. In contrast, Tuldarr would constantly be policing its queen from a shadowy background.

So he wanted her to feel a sense of freedom in her heart, at least when she looked at that shellwork case. She could remember the brief span of days she’d spent in Farsas while imagining the vast ocean.

Tinasha held the box in her palms and looked it over. The finely wrought ornamentation depicted a girl sitting on a rocky shore playing the lyre while fish listened, enraptured. Luminescent stones embedded within the piece cast faintly wavering shadows.

Carefully, she wrapped her hands around it. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

Next to her, Oscar softened his expression as he watched her with the gift.

Amid this tranquil moment, he sprawled out in the grass and stretched his arms above his head. “Now’s a great time for a break. Also, take off those shoes. You can go back barefoot if you teleport to the castle, can’t you?”

“Um, I guess… Are you going to take a nap here?”

“Wake me up when you head back,” Oscar instructed, but before his eyes could fully close, Tinasha nudged him. Moving his arm away from his eyes to look at her, he saw she was patting her lap.

“You can sleep here. I’ve got some things to think over for a while anyway.”

“Wow,” he remarked dryly, giving her a disapproving look for acting so defenseless. They were completely alone, however. He could let it slide.

Oscar moved over and lay his head down in Tinasha’s lap. When he glanced up, he saw that her face was lit with a strange childlike glee. “What’s with that look? Are you going to chop off my head while I’m asleep or something?”

“Of course not. Should that ever be necessary, I’ll come at you from head-on.”

“Big talk. I’m going to sleep,” the king responded, closing his eyes. Tinasha’s ivory hands carded through his hair softly. Oscar knew that the faint floral scent she gave off was her own. He breathed it in comfortably.

When he did pass into slumber, there came a brief, wonderful, and laughable dream in which he married an ordinary girl from town.

Oscar nodded off rather quickly, and his breathing evened.

Tinasha gazed down at him. “He didn’t get too mad at me…”

The most foolish of hopes had blossomed inside her when his eyes had fallen upon her at the party, but it was only because he’d seen through her disguise. It was a shame that her magic gave her away. Sylvia had been so excited to pick out her clothes.

Careful not to wake the man in her lap, Tinasha slipped off her wooden clogs. She’d never worn their likes before, so her toes and heels were red. Oscar must have guessed that, which was why he told her to remove them. Feeling all mixed up inside, she massaged her heels.

When they were feeling better, Tinasha held the seashell case up and examined it. “So pretty…”

Sunlight and the luminescent stones illuminated the engraved decorations that depicted part of a fairy tale. A girl whose love had gone missing in an accident at sea walked the coast during the day, hoping to find him. Come nightfall, she sang to the fish, asking for any news of him.

Despite her efforts, her sweetheart was never found. When she was nearing the last of her hope, he appeared at last, but his memories were gone. The story went that she found joy in getting to know him again, though she mourned the loss of his recollections to the ocean.

“Starting over…”

It reminded Tinasha of her and Oscar. Unlike in the fairy tale, she and the king of Farsas weren’t in love. All that awaited them was a final good-bye.

Because the other Oscar had rescued Tinasha four hundred years ago, they had met again in this era. However, their paths would diverge before long. She could only leave him with the fruits of her labor, the breaking of the curse. It was the materialization of her feelings for him, in a way. Most curses and blessings were laid with an underlying emotion.

“Oh!”

Inspiration abruptly struck Tinasha, and her head snapped up.

Surely this feeling is the final piece to undoing the curse.

The desire to leave something behind. That was what the curse placed on Oscar had desired all along. Inside the spell woven by the Witch of Silence’s own distinct language, there was a further coded portion, the definition name. Even if the curse were broken, that portion would remain. In the curse Tinasha had examined four centuries ago, that bit hadn’t been negated.

The final piece of the spell had to exist to ensure the definition name remained.

“Which means…”

Tinasha looked at Oscar, still asleep with his head in her lap. She wanted to test out her theory right away, but he was resting. If possible, she would prefer to let him relax to make up for his hectic daily schedule.

After thinking for a moment, Tinasha spread her arms wide. A fluffy white blanket appeared between them, and she placed it over the king. Then she closed her eyes and began to contemplate the curse.

How long had he been asleep? Judging by the sun’s position, not even an hour had passed.

Oscar craned his neck to look at the girl whose lap he’d been napping on, only to discover that she had nodded off, too. Tinasha’s head was lolling to one side. He’d anticipated that she’d rouse him, yet the young woman had abandoned her post.

Oscar noticed the white blanket laid over him and huffed. “We’re in the castle, but it’s still dangerous if neither of us keeps watch.”

Anything could’ve happened while they were both unawares. However, one of them would have probably awoken had there been trouble.

Oscar spent some time watching Tinasha’s face as she slept, but he couldn’t do that forever. He sat up, placed the blanket over her, and took the girl in his arms. Even that didn’t wake her. Gently, he hugged her more closely.

“Go on and sleep. You are free as long as you’re in Farsas.”

If Tinasha wished it, she could live like a commoner in town. But Oscar knew she’d never do that.

The pair had both been raised for something more. That was why the rare moments of freedom like this one were so precious.

With Tinasha in his arms, Oscar returned to his day.

He didn’t want to count how many days like this she had left.