9 The Republic of Ascar

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Whether it was her imagination or not, Phyllis always felt that Master Giovanni’s wife had subtly changed her attitude toward her. Previously, whenever Phyllis stayed in her room all day, no one would bother her. Meals were simply delivered with a knock on the door, left outside, and then the carrier would leave—both parties tacitly behaving like strangers, landlord and tenant, not disturbing each other.

But after the funeral, once it was confirmed that she was not ill, the woman no longer just knocked and left immediately. Instead, she would enter the room and exchange a few casual words with her.

Phyllis couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for this shift, but ever since the old professor recalled his lingering regrets before death, he had become unbearably noisy—a clamor like five hundred cicadas chirring right beside her ears. At first, she found the cultured insults somewhat novel, but soon they became a headache.

It was at this moment that Isabella, Master Giovanni’s wife, came to her rescue. Perhaps out of habit from life before, Professor Pailerosso would momentarily hold back his torrent of curses when others were speaking to her, scowling as he retreated silently to a corner.

With the source of the noise quelled, Phyllis naturally wore a smile when facing Isabella. And for Isabella, knowing the child before her was not going to be a long-term burden, her demeanor softened considerably.

Two days later, as their acquaintance grew, Isabella even suggested that Phyllis take walks around other parts of the house, though the front door remained off-limits. This was not a restriction targeting Phyllis alone; Isabella herself rarely ventured out except to purchase necessities, due to the rapid spread of the plague outside.

In the past, she would spend time with city friends spinning wool, but now she was confined to the house. Hearing the woman’s complaints, Phyllis gently suggested during their leisure moments whether she might consider escaping the plague by going to the less populated outskirts. But she was met only with a helpless, motherly look.

“Everyone knows fresh air promotes health, but that requires the right conditions. We have no house out in the countryside…” Isabella shook the spinning wheel and smiled bitterly. “Besides, Giovanni still has work here. As long as no one above mentions it, the work cannot stop… Also, the countryside has its own dangers—bandits and robbers abound, but here in the city, the council still dispatches people to maintain order.”

“Exactly! And those bandits have become so brazen lately, they even robbed the Pailerosso family’s carriage!” Mia, the maid spinning wool nearby, echoed her mistress, pursing her lips in hatred. “It’s because of the plague now—everyone’s too distracted to deal with them. Otherwise, Lord Pailerosso wouldn’t allow those scoundrels to run rampant around Aska!”

“I heard that from the Nilo family,” Isabella said more calmly than the maid, sighing. “They said those robbers who targeted the Pailerosso family were the same ones driven out of the city last year. The few surviving guards recognized some of them. They harbor resentment towards the Council of Nine and specifically target Aska residents, especially those bearing the nine family crests… That poor old professor’s timing was just unfortunate.”

The maid’s face softened with pity. “Yes, I heard he had a will made early, intending to divide all his estate among the city’s poor. Such a kind man… Who would have expected this fate…”

Listening to their lamentations, Phyllis glanced at the ghostly professor quietly casting curious glances in her direction. Unable to resist, she finally asked, “What did those people do wrong? Why were they driven out of the city?”

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The two women exchanged looks, then both wore helpless expressions.

“Because there was no more food,” Isabella said succinctly. “Those were beggars and poor people living in the city, mostly unemployed and surviving by begging. It might have been tolerable when food was abundant, but the surrounding lands have had poor harvests these past two years. Bread prices have doubled several times. People can barely feed themselves, let alone support so many others.”

“Exactly! Those freeloaders live off our charity but have no gratitude!” the maid added with even more venom. “You’re young and don’t go out much, so you don’t know how bad those people are! They stole and robbed all over the city, many poor souls lost their life savings, and some even froze to death last year… Some people simply don’t deserve to live! They’re nothing but cursed parasites—”

“Mother Mary above, Mia, stop!” the mistress interrupted firmly. “After all, they’re just poor people… You’re a good girl and shouldn’t say such things.”

The maid fell silent but her harsh wool-spinning gestures betrayed the anger she had bottled up.

Phyllis instinctively looked toward the old professor standing in the corner, but found him with his head bowed, lost in thought.

If Professor Pailerosso hadn’t lied—having been estranged from his family for many years and living abroad recently—then indeed he had nothing to do with the eviction of the poor from the city. Yet he had been killed because of it, a cruel twist of fate that made one lament the capriciousness and injustice of life.

However, when Master Giovanni returned home and the family discussed the harrowing robbery at the dining table, Phyllis heard a third version of the story.

“Do you think the truly needy beggars have the means to become bandits? The old, weak, and sick would die on the road before reaching Vilis,” Giovanni muttered, drinking his barley porridge. “Last year, the Vilis Relief Hall took in many of the poor we drove out and loudly criticized us for inaction, as if they hadn’t driven beggars out of their city too… To me, it seems those bandits who returned to rob Aska may have been incited by the folks from Vilis, or perhaps even supported by them!”

This view was clearly endorsed by the mistress and the maid, and the Aska residents at the table began cursing the Vilis people’s cunning and hypocrisy.

Phyllis had vaguely sensed the tension between Aska and her neighboring city but hadn’t realized the depth of their grudge.

Although she was now technically an Aska resident, Vilis was the cradle of the Renaissance, and she found herself unable to betray her long-cherished admiration for the “City of Dreams.” So she kept silent and focused on her meal.

Fortunately, the adults here did not force children to take sides, so her quietness went unnoticed. After a few casual remarks, the conversation drifted to other matters.

As the only family member still able to interact with the outside world, Master Giovanni brought back precious news for Phyllis every day.

The situation outside was grim. Though the area Giovanni lived in had few sick people, the plague had spread among artisans and workers, affecting the cathedral’s expansion.

“There are too many sick now. Father Paul has already written to the bishop for instructions. The construction may be halted completely in the next few days… But that might be for the best. The expansion wasn’t going to be finished quickly anyway, and with the work stopped, I can focus on my duties at the town hall,” Giovanni said.

Finishing the last spoonful of porridge, he glanced at his wife. “By the way, has Jarl’s delivery arrived yet?”

“No,” Isabella replied. “I even sent Mia to his shop this morning. He said it’s chaotic outside, many caravans haven’t arrived on time…”

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“Forget going to him! I bet he’s up to his old tricks, trying to hoard stock again!” Giovanni threw his spoon into the bowl in frustration. “That cunning Eboler merchant—at best, two out of ten things he says are true! Yesterday, that brat Boto bragged to me about his new cochineal bugs. Who else in the city sells that stuff? The caravans surely brought goods, but he’s just waiting for me to come complain about a price hike!”

“Everyone’s struggling now. If the increase isn’t too much, just let it go. Don’t ruin your relationship over this,” his kind-hearted wife patiently advised. “Besides, there’s nowhere else to buy ultramarine. Without the pigment, no one can paint. If you delay, they’ll blame you anyway.”

Her words did little to soothe him. Giovanni still crossed his arms, sulking.

His resentful gaze swept the table, intending to say more, but then accidentally met a pair of wide, curious eyes.

“...Was I too loud?” Embarrassed, the man cleared his throat and switched to a coaxing tone. “Have you eaten enough? Want some more?”

“…”

“Excuse me… What are ultramarine and cochineal?” Phyllis blinked, hesitating before swallowing nervously, then cautiously asked, “Are they stones and bugs? How do you use them to make paint?”

Surprised by the question, Giovanni paused before smiling and nodding. “Of course, you need special methods. Are you interested in this?”

At that moment, Phyllis forgot all about her personality clashes with little Phyllis and eagerly nodded.

The joy shining in the girl’s eyes was unmistakable, like a ray of sunlight piercing through the gloom of these dreary days, stirring anyone who saw it.

“Ultramarine is gone, but I recall we still have some lapis lazuli at home, right?” Giovanni chuckled, then suddenly seemed to remember something as he looked at his wife. “If we have time tomorrow, let’s grind those into pigment powder.”

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat at her husband’s words, and she quickly protested, “That’s much more expensive than ultramarine. Using it for frescoes would be too extravagant!”

“Who said I’m going to use it for frescoes?” Giovanni gave a triumphant chuckle. “Ambuno received a commission from Lady Truzzi to paint a Madonna before the Assumption this year. He agreed immediately when he heard the price, but when he got home, he found he didn’t have enough blue pigment to paint the Madonna’s robe! Because of this, he rushed to order a lot of lapis lazuli from Jarl at a high price. Now Jarl is trying to haggle even for ultramarine—imagine how high he’ll push lapis lazuli!”

“With only three months until the Assumption, Ambuno must be anxious. He probably doesn’t have time to make pigment himself,” the architect stroked his mustache and shot a sly look at his wife. “We’ll just sell him the ground pigment at the previous market price. That way, we can teach that greedy Jarl a lesson!”