After pacing no more than half an hour, Lukas arrived at the barge, dazed and jumpy like a starved wild mammal. His throat still felt shut and his eyes were jumpier than usual, high on guard. It was a simple river along the edge of the city among a grove of trees. It was wide enough for more five barges to sail side to side. The sky was completely conquered by enormous clouds who, contrary to Lukas, were marching north. The day was clear only because of the slight separations in between the files of giant clouds that let sunlight through.

  Lukas identified the correct boat and limped towards it. There was a man sat at the edge of the barge next to the embarking ramp softly rocking along with the slow tide contemplating those enormous and arranged clouds. His demeanor was relaxed and let you know he was humble in character. Lukas gave him the two coins owed and was surprised by the feeling of his rough but gentle hand. He stepped into the nearly empty barge thinking his body was for the first time experiencing freedom, but quickly realized it was more of a run of weakness trickling down from his plexus into the stomach. He was emotionally exhausted and his lumbar region was ready to give up. Too consumed by his own self, he barely noticed the handful of others aboard. He sat against the wooden curves of the barge and plopped on the floor like an invertebrate animal.

  A few meters to his left sat a friar he had barely noticed. The friar greeted him passionately as he scooted near him: “Peace and goodness!” This friar’s tonsure head had not been well kept. His bald area overgrew to a sort of moth hair ball that looked very unpleasant and his ears appeared swollen and lumpy. Lukas was not sure if that was their normal state or if the friar had some infection. Although Lukas didn’t respond to the greeting, he maintained a polite expression.

  “Sottofiamma, eh?” the friar kept insisting for conversation. “What awaits you there?”

  “What about you?” Lukas replied hoarsely trying to get the man to do all the talking. His mother had once taught him that if he didn’t want to be rude, he should make the other do all the talking. This memory struck him with a pang of guilt for leaving her.

  “I will go spread the message of the Lord to those poor souls. I hear Exordium has made great efforts in their cause and I hope to join them!”

  “Their cause…” Lukas struggled to remember the news that had broken out around two years ago on the matter while he cleared his throat, “don’t they hate the Counts?”

  “No! They simply warn agains the common worldly desires and possessions that led to that terrible war in the first place!”

  “But it’s fine, isn’t it? The country’s rich now.”

  “Poor soul!” the friar exclaimed, “that’s exactly it! It’s those same greed for those riches that led to the bloodshed! Just look at that Count Malviano. Worse to the stomach than eating the black tar left from fire! I heard that he overspends more than any nobility and is the biggest coward of all. He sent threatening letters to his enemies leading up to the battle on Pan River years ago, but when the battle broke out, he was cooped up in his tent saying it was a ‘tactical’ move to protect the flank! Nothing good can come from a spoiled coward, even riches.”

  “And how do you know any of it is true?” Lukas ignored the friar’s pity on him as well as the attempted lecture on morality and went straight to the point.

  “These things travel fast brother.”

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  “Or maybe they’re lies of an enemy trying to destroy the public’s perception of their Count. Rumors sometimes do more damage than swords.” Lukas was beginning to reference some of the political studies his father had forced on him when beginning his translation training. It was how he became initially exposed to his idol, the Rose Duke. Doing so had always made him feel proud of himself, so he never missed a chance.

  “You haven’t been around enough. I can tell you’re a young lad. Maybe when we get there, we can travel together!” the friar said lighting up and smiling aggressively at Lukas, who simply threw out a huff to dismiss the proposal. He began to grow annoyed at the friar’s ignorance. His ego was playing thoughts of superiority to fuel his emotions: ‘if only he know how well read I am! I’ll grant him the mercy of not correcting him. He’s a lost cause from what I can see,’ it said.

  “And the women!” the friar continued. “If you want to know the state of any place or any man, watch how they treat women. I hear they’re shameless and cheap, and there is nothing worse than that!”

  Lukas didn’t respond mainly from the fact he was too tired to argue against everything the man said. They were destined to always have an opposing opinion as was usually the case in debates with his type. The friar took this as a challenge to his point and continued to insist.

  “I’ve seen it! True messages from above. My brother was a lost cause. He had no shame at all. He would tug his monkey even when I was right there in the room with him! Can you believe it? Polishing his bronze in front of his brother? And you know what happened? He suddenly became paralyzed in his right arm! The arm of sacrilege.” Lukas made a nervous frown, beginning to fear the man. How could anyone lay out such a ludicrous statement so casually with a stranger? “And that’s not it, after that, even stranger things happened. When we were alone in our room, the same place he’d always drown his goose, not only did his right arm not work, but his mind would reverse into that of a simpleton’s! I think it’s because he started thinking of using his left, so the lord took his ability to think completely! It was then that I took him for religious council and became who I am today,” he finished proudly.

  “And…what happened to him?”

  “He was cured! They placed relics into his mouth so that holiness could speak into him.”

  “Relics?”

  “The preserved bones of saints.”

  Lukas stared at the man and took him for a lunatic. He decided to get away. “I’m going to sleep if you don’t mind. I want to be fresh when we arrive,” and turned away from the friar. He only wanted the conversation to end, but he did end up falling fast asleep until the very end of the journey.

  When he woke up, nobody was in the barge anymore except for him and the boatman who was laying down with his hands behind his head, legs crossed and a cap tipped over his forehead next to the disembarking ramp. Lukas got up and leaned against the deck trying to get over his post-nap drowsiness.

  While watching the water, he noticed something carved along the wood he was reclining on. A simple image of a ship, made with maybe six strokes of a knife. Along to the right was a far more detailed one. A hull with the nose of the boat slightly higher than the stern with decorative diamond strokes on the bulging edges. High masts with proper rigging. Next to it was another drawing carved out that threw Lukas off guard. It was not a ship this time, but a hanging man on a gallow. Carved much deeper into the wood than the other two drawings, making it bold and malevolent-looking. Across the hanging man read: ‘TAX DAETH.’ Lukas recalled the Naked War had originated because the people refused to pay tax.

  “That’s how it works, you fools,” he thought intuitively.

  He looked around, realizing his head was not where it should be and grounded himself. “This is it,” he thought and went over to the disembark ramp. As each of his steps sunk into the slim wood of the ramp, he imagined a waltz he had once heard on a street festival.

  To most people, the waltz was a smooth dance to glide and spin with your partner over swaying violins and elegant staccato plucks. But to him, it was swan song symbolizing his goodbye. He imagined himself from above in from the perspective of an angel as the song rose to its climax, all instruments at their highest intensity and harmony. Then, as he descended to the ground, the song eases into a soft piano, replaying the main melody with softer fingers, laying the song to rest.