This story is part of the Wanderer series.
She only briefly glanced up as she heard the footsteps appear from around the corner along with its own candlelight. It was the Bookkeeper again, his large nose and wrinkled face easily distinguishable, especially over the dim candle.
“You have been spending far too much time in the parchments, my fellow scholar from the East,” he chuckled. “Do you intend to live here, Sen?”
“I leave for my homeland in less than a moon’s time,” she lied. “I have not a night to waste.”
The Bookkeeper nodded over and over as he walked over to the desk, seemingly expecting her response. “Indeed, indeed, but a lady as young as you must remember to get an adequate amount of rest. There is always a tomorrow.”
Sen did not reply, continuing to copy over the faded words to a new page.
“What fevers you so to spend sunrise to moonrise transcribing the dustiest archives?”
“Preserving knowledge is my most fervent desire,” she replied.
He chuckled again. “Even the most mundane?”
“Without them, the bigger picture cannot be had.”
With one more laugh, the man wistfully sighed, turning over to the shelves. “Well said. Well said…”
There was a moment of silence as he dwelled over her words while gazing at the dark, cramped rows of shelves.
“It will be lonely here once you depart,” the aged man admitted. “The young, to their own peril, do not look to the past as vigorously as their fathers. Nor do they keep diligent records of their trades and harvests.”
Listening to him speak, Sen’s writing hand briefly faltered, her face taking on a more serious shade. Returning the tip of her pen to the page, she scribbled faster, as if she was making up for her lost pace.
“Have you given my advice any thought?” she asked.
The man did not reply for a brief moment. “I decided I will stay. There is nowhere else for an old man to go.”
Again, Sen said nothing.
“A war is not a certainty. Not after decades of proven peace, and certainly not with a nation that is on good terms with the Empire.”
“With the Eastern Capital,” Sen clarified. “It is the northern factions that wish to reunite the Empire to restore its former glory.”
“Those days are long gone,” the Bookkeeper sighed, his voice taking on a tint of frustration. “Even our ancestor’s ancestors did not know of an age where the Xin Empire ruled the continent.”
“Yet the fever of reunification has never died in the north,” Sen warned. “It is ingrained in their society as their heavenly duty.”
“I have faith that trade will maintain the peace, as it has for centuries,” he insisted.
Sen’s writing hand finally came to a stop. She stared blankly at the parchment in front of her as she thought.
“I fear stronger forces may upset the balance.”
Glancing, the Bookkeeper noticed a shift of air. Turning to face her, he lended her his interest. “What is it you have seen, dear scholar from the East?”
Straightening herself, Sen reached over to the wet cloth on the desk, dabbing the tip of her pen into it. “From my collected accounts of the nation, the Celestial Empire is declining in population, and has been for the past decade. It suggests they are an aging nation.”
The Bookkeeper subtly raised his brows. Though he seemed unconvinced, he gave her conjecture some thought. Gazing down at the records of rice harvests strewn across the desk, it was not too difficult to believe the scholar was knowledgeable in what she spoke about. “Do you believe so?”
After wiping the pen clean, Sen set it down and leaned back into her chair, keeping her gaze blankly fixed forward. “A tundra empire that relies on trade, relies on outside powers for its grains, and has been secluded from the world by its mountains for centuries… Hostile to outsiders… It is no wonder why its population may be declining.”
“Yet a war would only lead to inevitable deaths that would quicken that pace,” said the Bookkeeper.
“The Celestial Empire is going to decline in the near future, no matter what happens,” Sen pressed forth, crossing her arms and raising her gaze closer to the ceiling. “Whether through its own hand, the hands of outside powers, or both. It is too late to change that destiny when it takes over a decade to raise viable offspring to offset the decline.”
The Bookkeeper brought his free hand up to his chin, thumbing it.
“What happens next depends on how the Emperor and his court reacts to their decline.”
Finally turning her face to meet him in the eyes, Sen also crossed one leg over the other. Her eyes shone the deepest gravity.
“Are they level headed enough to realize the danger that war would bring, to accelerate the Empire’s decline beyond a state of recovery? Or, knowing either path leads to decline, do they believe it best to go to war and bring the Land of Fields under its control, then deal with whatever consequences afterwards?”
Faced with her unflinching gaze and torrent of reason, the man began to dip his eyes, pinching his lips together and ever so subtly starting to nod along.
Noticing his discomfort, Sen looked away, back towards the parchments in front of her. “The Emperor is young,” she sighed. “He just welcomed his second child. A daughter. I believe him a risk for making a rash decision.”
“And you truly believe there is no hope for dissuading the Emperor?” the Bookkeeper finally inquired.
“I believe it is a question of whether the restless factions will persuade the Emperor,” Sen delineated. “Like you said, the Eastern Capital is on good terms with the Land of Fields.”
The aged man did not follow up. Hugging her crossed arms tighter and repeatedly tapping her left bicep with her right index finger, Sen pivoted.
“There are external factors as well. I am sure you are aware of the Land of the Sun’s recent expansion into its smaller neighbor to the north of the continental desert.”
Letting go of his chin, the Bookkeeper looked up. “What concern would a distant annexation be to the Empire?”
“Surely the reunionists would not take lightly the encroachment of another Great Nation over the territories that formerly belonged to the Xin Empire. Especially by force.”
He blinked. “By force? Did they not wish to become a part of the Desert Kingdom?”
“No, they were invaded.”
He blinked again.
“The Kingdom of Light invaded a border city, and threatened to invade the rest of the nation unless the capital agreed to cede the city to the Kingdom. So they did.”
Breathing in, the Bookkeeper’s face finally broke into disbelief. “Heavens! Why?”
The candlelight in his hand flickered from the short but abrupt movement his arm made during his outcry.
Sen shook her head. “I cannot say for certain. Their royal army is notoriously secretive. One could only assume.”
With her gaze still locked on the records, her eyes suddenly lit up.
“Although… populous sentiment in the nations neighboring the Kingdom has been dour for some time. There is a sense of stagnation. Perhaps the Kingdom is taking advantage of this sentiment to seduce its peoples to deliver their lands to the Kingdom’s arms.”
Sen started to bounce her crossed leg as she pondered.
“The Land of Sun has no ports on the Continental Ocean, a disadvantage that has always vexed them. If they could conquer the rest of the nation without a war, it would be a miracle for them; an act of deliverance.”
Her chair creaked with her. The Bookkeeper did nothing but lightly shake his head at the floor with his chin in hand once more. After some silence between them, Sen noticed the creaking and held her leg still.
“From the records…” Sen resumed, uncrossing her arms and reaching out one hand to thumb the parchments in front of her. “It seems like every nation on the West Continent, and in some ways the Land of Forests as well, is declining all at once.”
The old parchments crinkled as she fidgeted.
“Trade is slower. Fertility is slower. For no apparent reason, other than… fatigue?” She opened up her lecture for dialogue with her fellow, turning her head to the Bookkeeper. “Fatigue of an unchanging world? If there is such a universal force.”
He raised his head, continuing to shake it. “Only the Heavens know.”
The old man offered no more. Without any meaningful substance to gain, Sen turned back to the table, finally bringing in the rest of her fingers to lift the parchment up in front of her, staring at it blankly as she reached deep in her mind.
“This fatigue seems to set in every century,” she began, pausing briefly as she measured the depth of knowledge she was revealing. “And, instead of citizens in each nation asking, ‘Well, why is it not better?’, they are stuck in their own bubble and asking, ‘Why are we worse than them?’, which is the wrong question to be asking. Instead of fixing their minds on how they can improve their lives, they are spending their energy envying others’ fortunes and dreaming about taking what they have, not realizing they are in the same situation as themselves.”
With a quiet breath out, Sen let go of the paper with a subtle flick of her wrist, lightly tossing it back on the table. Crossing her arms again, she went silent along with the aged man for a long while, indicating she was tired of hearing her own grievances. The Bookkeeper attended her silence during that time, not moving to leave but not moving to prod her to continue either. The candle flickered in his hand, warning it would soon go out. Glancing down at the tray, his eyes dimmed along with the flame, taking a step to the side towards whence he came.
“That is simply humanity and its ingenuity,” the old man spoke, contributing his wisdom at last. “The beauty… and curse of it. Always striving to improve, and becoming frustrated when it reaches a ceiling.”
Sen silently nodded without a glance.
Seeing this, the Bookkeeper raised his free hand to his heart, slightly dipping forward. “I shall retire, then, my dear scholar from the East. Good night.”
With that, he turned and left through a bookshelf aisle.