Chapter 458: The Song of Resonance
Roland could not believe what he was hearing.
“You’re saying you saw a vast desert during Echo’s song — and came back with a grain of sand?”
“I didn’t bring it back, Your Highness.” Iron Axe placed the grain on the desk with the solemn care of someone setting down evidence. “At the time, I couldn’t move. I never thought to check whether it was real. It just appeared in my palm. Maybe the wind blew it there.”
The wind. Roland looked at the grain. They were indoors, in the middle of winter. “Did she sing more than one song?”
“Others, yes, but I couldn’t follow them.” Iron Axe’s eyes had a distant quality, still partly elsewhere. “Your Highness — back in the Southernmost Region, if Lady Silvermoon had told me she was the Three Gods Emissary, I would have believed her without hesitation. Is this… has she evolved?”
After a year in Roland’s service, the Ironsand man of the Mojin Clan had developed a fairly precise understanding of how witches worked. The question was sincere.
“I believe so. Though I’ve never seen it manifest quite like this.” Roland considered the grain for another moment, then sent Iron Axe to find Echo.
When he was alone, he picked it up and held it to the light. “Is there any trace of magic power in it?”
“None.” Nightingale’s voice came from behind, unhurried.
That meant nothing by itself. Soraya’s paintings were created by magic and then simply were — real objects in the world, sustained by their own existence, immune to God’s Stones. If Echo’s ability worked similarly, the grain would look exactly like this: ordinary sand, caught in ordinary light, with no signature left to find.
Echo came in quickly, still carrying the brisk cold of the river walk. Nightingale stepped out of her fog to stand beside Roland and smiled at the younger witch. “Congratulations.”
Echo stopped. “To me?”
“Your magic power has cohered.” Nightingale tilted her head. “Can’t you feel it?”
“Really?” She looked as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe it. “You mean — I’ve evolved?”
Roland looked to Nightingale. “What does it look like?”
“A transparent blue gem. Clear as water.” She considered. “She has nearly as much magic power as Maggie.”
Echo’s hand went to her own chest, uncertain.
It was not the kind of evolution that came with an obvious threshold — she’d condensed her power without knowing it had happened. Roland told her what Iron Axe had reported: the desert, the oasis, the heat, the vision so complete it had displaced the Stronghold winter.
She stared at him. “He felt he’d actually gone back to the Southernmost Region? To the sea of sand?”
“Felt may be too weak a word. He came back with sand.” Roland set the grain in front of her. “‘Sand can be found anywhere’ is a fair objection, but I don’t believe he stopped to dig through snow and mud to deceive me.” He paused. “What were you seeing while you sang?”
“Nothing.” A faint flush. “I had my eyes closed.”
“Then show us.” He propped his chin on both hands. “Sing the song you wrote. About your homeland. We have half an hour before dinner.”
“Here?”
“Here.”
“I want to hear an immersive song too,” Nightingale said simply.
Echo took a breath. Then she began.
The office held the sound the way a room holds heat — all at once, from every surface. Her voice started quietly, slightly restrained, as if adjusting to walls and a ceiling after open air. Then the melody lifted, and she gave herself over to it.
Roland heard hot wind through green woodland. He felt the temperature of the room shift upward. He smelled the particular sharpness of sand under a high sun.
When she finished, the silence was the kind that no one wanted to interrupt.
Then he glanced at Nightingale, who gave a small shake of her head. Neither desert nor oasis. She had remained in the study the whole time.
Not universal, then.
He sat with that for a moment. “Did you write it yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Then — I want to try something.” He stood. “Sing the songs I’ve taught you. All of them. And let’s have everyone here to listen.”
The study filled quickly. The three witches from Sleeping Island came in still holding their playing cards. Echo looked out at all of them and made a small unsteady sound, but Nightingale gave her a look that steadied her, and she began.
She sang through the set. She sang the Guerrillas’ Song last.
The witches applauded without exception. Warm, genuine. Some of them were still smiling when they described what they’d felt.
Roland listened and worked it out.
The depth of the effect depended on experience. If a listener had lived something close to what the song depicted — felt that weather, stood in that light, known that kind of belonging — Echo’s singing pulled them into it. The Guerrillas’ Song was the most universally felt because the witches had all watched the First Army march to music; they understood it from the inside. The Southernmost Region song had struck Iron Axe with physical force because the Southernmost Region was his — every detail of it, down to the sand.
What he still couldn’t determine: whether, if a listener was fully absorbed, the images could produce real things. The grain on his desk suggested yes. But one data point wasn’t a theory.
An ability to lift spirits. He rolled the grain between his fingers. The military applications were obvious — soldiers, morale, the particular kind of courage that only comes from feeling less alone. And beyond that: crowds, difficult masses, the slow work of changing what people believed was possible. Background music for drama, if it came to that.
Echo’s new ability warranted careful attention.
The next afternoon, Vader arrived from Border Town in Roland’s study.
“Your — Your Highness — I’m — I’m here—” He said this between chattering teeth. Warming was still in progress.
Maggie’s express service was the fastest route between the town and Stronghold, but sixty kilometers per hour in the grip of a large beast’s claws, wrapped in whatever blankets you could find, was not what most people would call a comfortable journey. Roland patted the fat pigeon on his shoulder.
“Coo!” She lifted her head with visible satisfaction.
By the time Vader had stopped shaking, Roland explained the assignment. “The situation here is different from Border Town but similar to Valencia — Rats, refugees, violent criminals. I want you to help the Elk Family with training.”
“Patrol training?” Vader asked, angled toward the fireplace.
“Police training.” He laid it out: the First Army would handle enforcement at the start, but long-term, public security had to transfer to local officers. And local officers needed to understand what they were for. “The most important thing you’ll teach them is the concept. People’s protector.”
Vader nodded slowly, and repeated it back to him: “Treat the people warmly, like a spring breeze. Punish the criminals ruthlessly, like thunder.”
“Exactly.” Roland looked at him. “Train them well.”
Chapter 458: The Song of Resonance
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
Roland could not believe what he was hearing.
“You said that you saw a vast desert in Echo’s song and you’ve brought back a grain of sand?” Roland asked. His mind was racing.
Was this simply an auditory delusion? How, then, could he explain this speck of powder?
“I didn’t bring it back, Your Highness,” Iron Axe put the grain of sand on the desk solemnly, “At the time, it rooted me in place and I never thought of checking whether it was real. This grain of sand just suddenly appeared in my hand. Maybe it was blown by the wind?”
It was becoming more and more implausible. Roland thought for a moment and asked, “Did she sing only the one song?”
“Some other songs, too. But I couldn’t understand.” Absorbed in his memory, Iron Axe continued, “It was like a miracle… Back in the Southernmost Region, if Lady Silvermoon claimed to be the Three Gods Emissary, I would firmly believe her. Your Highness, is it because she’s evolved?”
This Ironsand man of the Mojin Clan had followed Roland more than a year and now had a much better understanding of witches.
“I think so, but it’s the first time I’ve seen such a situation.” Roland answered. After some thought, he decided to send for Echo and ask her in person.
When Iron Axe left, Roland picked up the grain of sand and looked at it carefully, “Was it created by magic power?”
“I’m not sure,” Nightingale’s voice came from behind, “There’s no trace of magic power in it.”
This did not necessarily mean that it was not made by magic power. It was a real thing in the real world, like Soraya’s pictures. Once created, it would maintain itself without magic power and could not be affected by God’s Stone of Retaliation.
Before long, Echo came into the study. Nightingale immediately stepped out of her mist to stand beside Roland. With a smile on her face, she said, “Congratulations.”
Echo was surprised, “To me?”
Nightingale nodded, “The magic power in you has cohered. Don’t you feel it?”
“Re-really?” Echo shook her head in amazement, “You mean my ability has evolved?”
Finding that things had turned out just the way he’d expected, Roland asked Nightingale, “What does it look like?”
“It’s like a transparent blue gem, clear as water,” Nightingale answered, “She has almost as much magic power as Maggie.”
Echo’s evolution seemed to be unrelated to enlightenment. She had condensed her magic power even before she knew it. When Roland told her what Iron Axe had experienced, she was astonished.
“He actually felt like he had returned to the Southernmost Region and was in the sea of sand?”
“The phrase ‘Felt like’ may be inaccurate. He returned with a grain of sand from the dessert,” Roland said with smile. “Sand can be found everywhere, but I don’t believe he went so far as to dig in the snow or mud for it only to deceive me.” He paused a little and asked, “What did you see at the time?”
“Nothing at all.” Echo answered with some embarrassment, “I had my eyes closed and wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.”
“So how about showing us?” Roland suggested. He propped his hands on his chin, with interest. “Sing the song you created, the one about your hometown.”
“Here?”
“Yes,” he said, “Dinner isn’t ready for another half hour. It won’t disturb anyone.”
“I want to hear an immersive song, too,” Nightingale encouraged.
“Ah… fine.”
Echo took a deep breath and soon a mixed sonata from a distant time resounded in the office. It was a sweet feminine voice, slightly restrained at the start. Maybe it was because she had never sung indoors. As the melody slowly soared, she became thoroughly absorbed in the music.
As she was singing, Roland could hear hot winds blowing through green woods; he even felt the temperature increase. He smelled searing sands under a scorching sun. As the song faded out, he lingered lost in the aftertaste. Undoubtedly, this was a wonderful, exotic lyrical song in which a tone-deaf guy like himself could never find fault. However, he’d seen neither desert nor oasis with trickling streams. He sat still in his study the whole time.
He glanced at Nightingale who shook her head. It was apparent that she had not seen any miraculous scene, either.
Was it because her ability was not effective this time?
Roland contemplated, and then asked Echo, “Did you write this song?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Now, sing several songs I’ve taught you,” he thought for a moment and decided, “Let everyone come and listen.”
Soon, the study was crowded with witches. The three witches from Sleeping Island had even come, too. They were still holding their cards in hand. Echo was clearly a little nervous, but with the encouragement of Nightingale, she calmed down. She sang all the songs including the Guerillas’ Song.
She received warm applause from the witches without exception.
After listening to the witches describe their feelings, Roland had a rough understanding of Echo’s new ability.
The amount the audience could be affected by her singing depended on their respective experiences. If they had the same experience as depicted in the song, they would be influenced more. He came to this conclusion based on the newer songs he’d taught to Echo. Guerillas’ Song was the most popular one, because the witches had seen the First Army marching along to the beat of music. Therefore, they could understand this song better. This could also explain why her Southernmost Region song had resonated so strongly with Iron Axe.
Unfortunately, Roland could not tell from a test that how much her singing could affect the audience. He was wondering if the scenes in her song could become real things when a listener was fully absorbed in it.
Echo’s new ability filled him with expectations. The ability to lift one’s spirits should never be underestimated. She could encourage soldiers, pacify the masses, and sing background music for dramas…
…
The next afternoon, Roland met Vader from Border Town in his study.
“Your… Your Highness… I… I’m here…” he said with chattered teeth. Obviously, he had not recovered from the high-speed flight.
The fastest way to travel between the town and Stronghold now was Maggie’s express service. However, even wrapped up in a thick blanket, flying at a speed of 60 kilometers per hour under the claws of a large beast was not a comfortable flight.
“Good job,” Roland patted the fat pigeon on his shoulder.
“Coo!”, she proudly held her head up.
“I want you here to assist the Elk Family with training,” he looked at Vader and said. “The situation here is different from that in Border Town but similar to that of Valencia. Here there are rats, refugees and violent criminals.”
“You mean, you want me to train patrollers?” Vader asked. He had finally stopped shivering after warming himself by the fireplace.
“No, I mean police.” Roland explained his plan for taking severe measures against illegal and criminal activities. “The First Army will take care of it in the beginning, but public security work has to be handed over to the local police. The most important thing in training the police is to infuse them with the ‘people’s protector’ concept.”
“Treat the people warmly, like a spring breeze. And punish the criminals ruthlessly, like thunder,” Vader repeated what Roland had said.
“Yes,” the prince said with a smile, “I hope you can train them well.”