Act VII All Roads (Part 4)
Four
Yakov put his chainmail back on and was surprised to find that his belt had been widened by one notch. "You've gained weight!" Yubi poked his stomach with her finger. "You've been eating a lot lately!"
“I just ate a little too much.” Yakov impatiently brushed his hand away.
"That's a good thing," Helen joked. "Knights need to be strong to fight!"
“I think you should eat more, look at your physique.” Yakov shoved the glass jar wrapped in fine linen into Yubi’s arms—actually, he wasn’t quite sure how to make a vampire’s body grow stronger. “Watch your stuff.”
As the three left the luxurious bathhouse, the sky was already ablaze with the colors of sunset. In the crimson sunlight, Seilman waited for them alone, leading three horses; it seemed his soldiers had all gone home on leave. "Thank you, Helen," he said, glancing at Yubi and Yakov in the twilight—both now looked quite respectable, even Yakov's sword scabbard had been polished to a gleaming shine. "I think it's time for us to depart."
"How did our horses end up in your hands?" Yakov rushed forward, snatching the reins from the dark hand. "Where's the luggage?"
“I’ve already had my luggage sent to the Kanakakis residence.” Seleman immediately released his hand to avoid him. “No need to worry.”
Yakov felt a surge of anger well up inside him, as if he were a caged bird, manipulated and unable to resist—he wasn't actually that angry, but he just felt he should be furious. "You disposed of our luggage without informing me?" He stepped closer, his messy eyebrows raised sharply. "We were clearly staying at the bathhouse's stables."
“This bathhouse belongs to the Kanakakis family,” Sellerman said with a forced smile, without moving an inch to avoid it. “And since you are guests brought by Helen, the servants naturally know that the luggage should be handled by me.”
"Yakov, why are you so bothered?" Yubi, cradling her mother's head, stood between the two of them, her face tilted back. "We were originally going to my sister's... It's nice that we don't have to carry our own luggage, isn't it? There should be servants to do that, but with just the two of us here, we don't have enough manpower..."
Yakov wanted to vent his anger further, but then realized that pursuing the matter further would only make him look foolish. He glanced at the jar in Yubi's hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Helen standing beside him, arms crossed, observing his angry expression with an air of composure—was this merchant secretly mocking himself as a barbarian, utterly out of place in this bustling city? He swallowed hard, swallowing back the argument that was about to spill from his mouth.
“Get on a horse with me.” He yanked hard on the reins, then scooped up Yubi and lifted him onto the horse—he hadn’t done this in a long time. “So you don’t get stolen like luggage.”
They bid farewell to Helen and headed northwest along a wide and clean main road. Yubi, astride his horse, leaned against Yakov's chest, but kept shaking his head and looking around—Yakov wanted to scold him, but he couldn't help but glance around himself. The main road connected roundabouts, with various monuments and fountains standing in the middle, and shops of all kinds lined both sides, orderly and colorful—this wasn't a market; shops in Constantinople were open almost every day of the year, as Schumacher had once told him. The Byzantines were so extravagant, adorning columns with gold leaf and jewels, and elevating lifelike statues to the heavens. They passed a stone wall formed by a series of enormous arches. "What is this?" Yubi couldn't help but ask. "Is this a city wall? Even with all those arches, it can't defend against enemies."
“This is an aqueduct,” Seilman explained patiently as he leisurely rode his horse. “It transports water from the nearby river into the city for the citizens to use.”
"That's how the water for those fountains and taps comes from?" Yubi asked, his mouth agape. "No need to dig wells, no need to draw water, the water just comes out on its own?"
“Yes.” Sellerman nodded. “If the enemy cuts off the water supply during wartime, there are many underground water palaces that store enough fresh water for the entire city to use for more than a month. If you lie on the ground at night and listen quietly, you can hear the sound of a stream.”
Yakov couldn't help but gape like an ignorant fool, his mouth agape beneath his beard. He thought, "Such an exquisite and vast city, with waterways enveloping it like veins, truly makes it invincible."
“However, there are drawbacks.” Sellerman smiled. “Water that has been stored for a long time tastes bitter and astringent. When we’re in the city, I would recommend drinking some light wine.”
“No wonder the water I drank in Constanta was so bitter,” Yubi suddenly realized. “Helen said it was because of the canal.”
“Drink less wine too,” Yakov frowned and tightened his arms, “so you won’t keep getting drunk and vomiting.”
The further Yubi went along the road, the fewer people he noticed, and the fewer shops and markets he saw. "Is my sister's place this remote?" he whispered to Seymour. "It's all fields and farmhouses now."
“Nobles always prefer to live closer to the emperor,” Seilman explained.
"The emperor lives here?" Yubi asked in surprise. "But Schumacher said the Grand Palace is on the other side of the coast."
“A hundred years ago, Emperor Alexius moved the palace to the Brechner Palace,” Seleman said. “The Grand Palace had fallen into disrepair and was no longer habitable.”
These nonsensical names gave Yubi another headache. He thought he should really study these things properly when he had time in the future. But definitely not now.
They left the main road and turned right onto a clean, tidy alley. Whether it was because night was approaching or because of the sparse population, the city's clamor gradually subsided, bringing a quiet that was clearly audible even in the sound of horseshoes striking the cobblestones. Yubi and Yakov fell silent—the area was filled with magnificent, expansive courtyards; after passing one house's porch, it would be quite a while before seeing the next, indicating that these were all residences of high-ranking officials. Yakov suddenly realized his hand holding the reins was trembling. He tried to suppress it, but Yubi noticed. "Don't be afraid," the vampire whispered in his ear, "My sister isn't that scary. She won't eat you."
Yakov discreetly relaxed his fingers under his gloves to ease the stiffness in his joints. "It's not that I'm afraid of this," he said, unusually candidly.
"Then what do you have to be afraid of?" Yubi stared at him with her red eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe this place makes me uncomfortable.” Yakov bit his dry, cracked lip again. “Don’t ask any more questions.”
The horses seemed to be slowing down more and more. Yakov couldn't tell if it was Seilman, the guide, genuinely slowing them down, or if his fear and tension were making the road seem infinitely long and agonizing. Finally, they reached the end of the execution road—night had fallen, and Seilman's horse stopped before a small double door, turning back to look at them. A servant stood before the door, holding a lamp, bowing slightly respectfully, speaking to Seilman in Greek.
“Forgive me for not leading you through the main gate.” Seleman dismounted, his smile tinged with apology. “This was Anbichya’s idea.”
Yakov wanted to yell at him, but he no longer had the energy. His thighs felt stiff and sore from the saddle, and he couldn't move. Yubi, sitting in front, shook his arm. "It's time to dismount, Yakov," his master whispered. "It's alright."
They followed the servant into the labyrinthine courtyard. The horses were quickly led away by other servants, disappearing along with the luggage. After walking for a while in the firelight, Yakov realized that the door they had just entered through was a side entrance to the mansion—a perfectly symmetrical courtyard, its central axis running north-south. A vast pool and neatly arranged columns were all precisely calculated and perfectly distributed on either side of the courtyard. The rooms, though slightly different, were also arranged in a balanced manner, like weights being added to both sides of a scale. Yakov recalled Camilla's solemn castle in the Transylvanian mountains, a place that resembled both a church and a tombstone. This thought made him even more nervous; his fingertips went numb, and he could only relieve the tingling of his gloves' leather lining by gripping them so tightly.
The three were led into a room to wait, and then ignored. "It's completely dark," Yubi said, craning her neck to look at the procession of servants hurrying past outside. "Why hasn't Sister seen us yet?"
“She receives many guests every night,” Seyleman said. “There are probably more important people seeing her right now.”
These words displeased Yubi as well. He lowered his head, staring at the jar he was clutching tightly. "Aren't we important enough?" he muttered softly, "Sister... is Ambicia really that busy?"
“After all, I’ve brought you back. Sit here properly.” Seleman smiled and comforted him. “Perhaps it’s not that you’re not important enough, but that your matters aren’t urgent enough.”
Not urgent enough? Nonsense, Yakov thought. If Ambikia were to lift that layer of linen and see Camilla's broken, dried, and decaying head in Yubi's hands, would he still think things weren't urgent? Wasn't that her mother too? He turned his head and saw Yubi carefully fiddling with the cloth on the jar, her lips pursed in a mixture of unease and grievance. The scene suddenly made the mark on his chest itch, as if tiny insects were crawling and gnawing at his skin, making him restless.
“Get up.” Yakov abruptly grabbed Yubi’s wrist. “If she won’t see us, we’ll go find her ourselves.”
“But Sylman said there are other guests!” Yubi looked back at Sylman’s face worriedly, only to find the brown-skinned blood slave still firmly seated, making no attempt to stop them. “…What if we disturb my sister’s affairs?”
“Don’t be so pathetic! We went through so much trouble to get here!” Yakov immediately dragged Yubi out the door. He found himself no longer nervous. “Her affairs are important, but yours aren’t?”
Upon hearing this, Yubi hugged the jar in his arms tighter and silently followed Yakov's steps.
The two quickly followed the servants carrying candles to the open courtyard. Yakov observed for a moment, then soon found a path. Like two moths that had strayed into a forest of fireflies, their chaotic footsteps disrupted the tranquil, orderly stream of candlelight. Yakov didn't know how many of these servants in their plain robes bore the same brand on their chests as he did; they all remained silent, obediently avoiding the Slavs' rampaging bodies, like mindless puppets—fear suddenly returned to Yakov's heart. He was truly afraid that these soulless, walking corpses would be like deaf prey at Camilla's banquet, completely deceived and manipulated; or worse, willingly trading and offering their freedom. The fear of falling into a trap made Yakov's breath tremble, but the wrist of Yubi, which he was tightly gripping, gave him some courage and strength, making his steps firm and his gaze resolute. Soon, he turned the corner of the long corridor covered with murals, walked around an ochre-red stone pillar, and led Yubi into an exquisite courtyard. The bright silver moonlight streamed through the skylight, making the water droplets of the sculpted fountain in the courtyard sparkle like crystal. Yakov suddenly stopped, only to realize that some unknown, precious flowers and plants had been trampled under his iron shoes, leaving a delicate, refreshing fragrance emanating from the soles.
"He's been so good to me the whole time. Once things are settled, we should have a baby... Oh!"
Yakov looked up to find himself in a spacious and luxurious reception room. A circle of plush chaise lounges surrounded a low table laden with delicacies and wines, served on silver platters and in gold cups. The chaise lounges faced this exquisitely decorated setting, and two beautiful young Roman noblewomen leaned against cushions, observing him and Yubi as if they were actors stepping onto a stage. Yakov's gaze sharpened, and one of the girls—a red-haired young woman—her face, half-hidden behind a veil twenty years ago, instantly merged with Schumeer's writings in his memory, becoming a tangible reality.
“Agnice, look,” Ambicia said with a smile. She picked up her wine glass, her upturned red eyes quickly scanning the two people in the courtyard. “I told you they wouldn’t be able to wait!”
The other noblewoman, upon closer inspection, wasn't particularly old, not even more mature than Yubi. However, the panic on her face immediately subsided thanks to Ambicia's reassurance. "Then I'll come back another day to inquire about Hungary." She rose gracefully and elegantly, bowing to Yakov and Yubi. Soon, surrounded by the others, the noblewoman left the exquisitely decorated reception room, leaving Ambicia alone.
Yakov suddenly felt as if his mouth had been sewn shut, rendering him speechless. A thousand questions swirled in his throat, but he didn't know which to utter first. "I...I'm so sorry, sister..." Yubi lowered his head, avoiding her gaze, the fine linen in his arms crumpled in his clutches. "I've interrupted your business..."
“It’s nothing.” Anbichya quickly downed the crimson liquid in his glass—Yakov wasn’t sure what it was, only that the moonlight shimmered eerily in his red eyes. “Come here, dear brother, let me have a good look at you.”
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