14 Hooded Man

Crestienne Filia

"To save from the persecution of the law, leave and forget what you saw!"

An incantation. I've read this from Romain's books. I look around, and suddenly, the persecutors are letting go of my cuffs. They walk away like drunkards after the Tenth Month Feast. It's not just those men, but also the birds have suddenly gone quiet. What do you know? A real actual incantation. The Arts is real! The practitioners are real and they can control the Arts! I'm stunned. My eyes just can't help but widen at what it had observed.

As the forest grows quiet, I see the man smile for what he has done.

"Princess Crestienne," the man says suddenly while giving a brief bow. "'Tis an honor."

Wait. . . He knows? He knows that I am Princess Crestienne. Is it that obvious? Is the wig suddenly not enough? Though I want to question him, I must act graciously. I straighten my posture and put on a blank face, regal as a princess.

"As for you, sir," I say graciously.

While the man is still in a brief bow, I remove the hood over his head. Things could not go anymore shitty. I cannot mistake this man for another. His striking mahogany hair and dark blue eyes is something I have only seen from one person – Ruairi Magister, Latin Instructor of Scire National High School.

In his shock, he flushes like a tomato. I don't know what to say. I guess we are both aghast with the revelations that we've had.

"Sir Magister, you are a – "

"Speak not about it, princess!" the middle-aged instructor interrupts out of caution. "Since I saved you from the pyre, save me by not saying a thing about it until we are safely away."

"Alright," I agree. "But I demand an explanation from you. Take me in the neighborhood near Chemia Palace. Explain to me then what's going on."

I know the scope of my power. I can make any Scirese bend to my bidding. Without a word, he nods at my request. He opens the door of his car and me her in to the passenger seat. As he sits in the driver's seat, he puts the hood over his head once more and drives the car on.

I look at my watch. Shit! 'Tis an hour past the time I promised to return. His majesty will be most angry when he learns that I've left. I hope Lady Glacie is doing fine of hiding my escape. Though he is taking me in the right direction towards Chemia Palace, why does he not say a word.

I clear my throat to break the awkwardness. "So. . . Sir Magister, you are a practitioner."

"Yes," he answers shortly.

"What Arts?" I ask kindly once more.

"Irenic."

"So, what kind of practitioner are you?"

"Mediator."

"So. . . are you from Scire?"

"No."

"From where?"

"Nowhere."

Right. This has got to be the worst conversation I've ever had. What kind of person answers my question in single words. I mean, that's breve and concise, but can't he answer with a little more. . . vividness. I purse my lips out of frustration and try again.

"Ummmmm, Sir Magister," I say as kindly as possible. "Do you always answer in single words?"

"Not really," he says, amusingly.

Right, now I know he's just getting into my nerves. He can indeed answer more than single words. He can give a two-word response. Oh, what's next? Three-word response? In any case, I can't act indecently. He knows me by title. If I act in another manner right now, he might think less of Princess Crestienne, and the House of Filia, of course.

I purse my lips as I try to ask another question. "Can you tell me who those men are? I was just carrying books about The Arts. I never thought it was that illegal in Scire. Suddenly, they arrested me when they found out that I was carrying those books. They said that they would burn me. Do you know anything about this?"

Suddenly, he gives a sigh. He turns left towards another direction. I believe he is taking the longer way. Though he is still in the right track, it would take us longer to get to Chemia Palace from the direction he's taking.

That's when I realized. He will speak. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Those men are persecutors. They arrest anyone that practices The Arts, talks about The Arts, reads about The Arts, writes about The Arts, and is friends with practitioners of The Arts. Princess, what is Scire's motto?"

I don't know if this is a trick question, but I answer him quickly. "Scientia et Libertas."

"Right," he continues. "Scientia et Libertas. Knowledge and freedom. Scientia is science. Science and The Arts do not coincide. I do not mean to offend, princess, but a Scirese mind is not willing to comprehend the mystery of The Arts. They are only willing to understand things that can be explained by cause and effect. It can't be 'poof, something happened because I say so'. It should be 'oh, something happened because I did that'. That is the purpose of persecutors. They arrest men that do not conform to Scirese thinking. Don't get me wrong. Scire is a beautiful kingdom, but I do not agree with some of its laws."

"So, you are blaming the House of Filia for the laws we made, is that it?" I ask as I round on him. He has some nerve. I barely know anything about this law, and yet he is somewhat accusing me of having a part in this persecution.

"No, princess," he responds calmly. "I do not think that way. All I wanted to say is that persecutors are merely a product of a law made to suit Scire. This kingdom thinks its primitive to believe in such Arts. It is only fitting that those who believe would be punished by primitive means – burning through the pyre. That is why none of my people is safe in this kingdom. None of us are, even you."

Suddenly, I felt ashamed. Not only did I act unfitting of a princess, but also, he speaks wisely that I feel my head hanging in shame. "If Scire is dangerous, why stay here?" I ask reasonably.

"Ah, princess. Men have reasons why they go to other kingdoms and live new lives. I have my own reasons, and I believe you do, too. You have your own reasons for enrolling at Scire National High School under a fake name and identity. I will not question you for that. We have to respect each other's secrets and speak not about it ever again. Do you understand?"

It's like each time he speaks he just keeps throwing his shade at me. Why is this man different from the man that almost had a new girl kicked out of his class on her first day? I think that was cruel of him. Eh, could be some sort of changing personalities? For all I know, he might be a different person tomorrow.