Глава 16

They'll know your name when the Army sends your tags back to your mother, and she etches them on a white birch tree.

No, not like that...

There is little room for the individual to choose, when the collective is at war.

But...

Keep this hope in your heart, boy, and your 'discovery' too.

For the survival of Ursus and her people, there is only one option...

Set this land on fire.

*huff*... *huff*...

It hurts... the rocks are piercing the flesh... I can almost hear them growing. Why am I still alive?

I'm exhausted. I can't feel my limbs... Run! Run to the east!

Death awaits in the south. Death awaits in the north. In the west... the mines there are a dead end, just like those in the Far North.

I can run from the Far North... but how do I run from pain?

<p=1>Far North Border, Ursus</>

Urgh...

I can't... run... anymore...

This is it...

Is someone there?

I'll take a look—

No, please let me...

I can sense that it's only a poor soul who has suffered much.

Exhausted, dehydrated, starved...

You're Infected too.

*cough* *cough*!

He's one of us, comrades!

Please, save him, just as you saved all of us—

Perform your miracle!

It's not a miracle...

Oripathy is not the main reason for his pain. I can only stop his illness from tormenting him, but I cannot give him food, clean water, or a safe place to sleep.

I can't perform miracles. I'm not all-powerful. I simply... believe.

You're always so humble. We understand.

...Can you hear me, sir?

I'll hold your hand...

'Believe. Believe in our life.'

'Believe in our body and mind, believe every beat of our heart, believe every inhale and exhale.'

'Believe that we are the source of all strength.'

No longer will you live in fear of death.

The pain brought about by the rapid growth of Originium in his body begins to fade.

He can still hear the voices, but he is no longer writhing in pain.

Wh-Who are you?

You saved me...

*cough* *cough*—

What can I do to repay you?

You can call me Hierda, like everyone else here.

A miracle—

Hierda has once again saved our comrade!

She saved all of us! With her motherly caress, she takes away our pain!

Hierda!

Hierda.

Hierda!

Hierda... Hierda.

Yes, that is my name.

What do you look like? I can't see you clearly, or any of the others...

Your head is wounded. Did you fall and hurt yourself?

Maybe a mild brain hemorrhage is affecting your vision. Don't worry, we can help you walk...

Where are you going?

I don't know...

Then come with us, for now.

You're taking us to a place without pain, right?

Yes, as long as you're willing to come with me...

As long as we believe.

<p=1>The State Council of Ursus</> <p=2>Autumn, 1099</>

Could someone please tell me how much longer His Imperial Majesty will allow this charade to continue? A day? A month? Or perhaps a whole year?

I've quite frankly had enough already. The Victorians have gained the power to control Catastrophes, and even those devil savages have built battleships that fly in the sky.

And yet we are supposed to waste our time discussing how to deal with this jester?

Sir, if I may... This is a kindness bestowed upon us by His Imperial Majesty... After all, many citizens continue to believe the madman still possesses some form of noble virtue, and that is why His Imperial Majesty was willing to allow the judgment to be publicized.

The limit was seven days, and as of moments earlier... it has been six days and twenty-one hours.

Nonsense... Absolute nonsense! Are we supposed to sit here and endure these obscenities, hoping the madman will come to his senses at the toll of the bell on the final day?

Sorry, sir, but I am afraid so. The good news is once the bell tolls, the State Council will begin voting here and now.

And when the time comes, you will never have to endure this ever again.

Hmph... I know that, of course.

Alright, now get out. The clown's death may be a foregone conclusion, but until he is in the ground or burned to ash...

...he will still be Ursus's last Yurodstvo.

Huh? Did my eyes deceive me? That looked like an Imperial Guard uniform...

Is he back already? The break didn't last five minutes... He didn't even have a sip of water during his speech!

The final speech—

All eyes are focused on an out-of-place, ragged man walking to the center of the council hall in big strides.

He is standing tall, yet his limbs seem relaxed. There is no hint of worry for the future or signs of pain that come with the struggle for survival on his face.

Barely five minutes ago, he made a speech here about love, compassion, and how he forgives all those who decided his death.

His six-day-long speech has fatigued his audience, yet he appears completely unaffected. He raises his hand, and all around him immediately fall silent.

He begins to speak with a smile.

My dear friends, or perhaps those who regard me as an enemy. Surely, all of us know that this is the end.

As such, I shall not be discussing the meaning of love, or proclaiming my forgiveness to you for all the mistakes you have made, and all that you put me through.

What I shall now discuss... is the future. The future of a blind, illiterate man.

Preposterous...

We must keep in mind that recounting history is a most noble power, and such power can easily blind us.

For two decades, His Imperial Majesty has shared his glory with his subjects, yet they have never made the necessary preparations to accept his blessings.

I have never once doubted the Tsar's kindness. However, a kindness that is out of time may as well be poison.

No doubt the rebellious Armies and the Northern Tundra Infected have proven my point.

The despicable villains raised their rebellious heads and spilled their vile blood on these holy lands. The arrogant scholars proclaim that they have mastered the truth, yet their harmful words feed on the souls of the innocent like wicked worms.

This ignorant arrogance propagated like wildfire. For this, the masses have forgotten what it means to be humble. The Empire has forgotten what it means to be kind. Now, our grand empire and her citizens find themselves alienated from one another.

I can see the past and the future. Not because I am wise; I am only a fool. Rather, the trajectory of the future is already written in the trails of the past.

I do not regret revealing to the masses the future that I saw. Even if I must stand trial for this, I have no choice but to spread this prophecy.

I saw the end of Ursus. I saw the fall of a great empire.

And that is why I am standing here today. I ask His Imperial Majesty the Tsar to prevent all this. If my worthless life is the price to accomplish this, then please, by all means.

If even more blood needs to be spilled to cleanse Ursus of its filth, then I beg His Imperial Majesty to spill it. For an even greater cause, and for Ursus's eternal glory.

Once this trial is over, no matter the sentence, I shall begin my sacred journey.

Again and again, I shall extol the virtues of humility in an attempt to restore our unity and the Empire's glory.

Perhaps you think me an arrogant man overstepping my place, but I lead no armies and make no laws.

Perhaps you think I am fatally ill, but I am not a madman, nor am I out of my mind.

My hands are emptier than even those of the junkmen. My clothes are more tattered than even those of the Infected. All I've done—my mistake—is to see a different history and to hear different voices than the others.