Sheeta didn't suffer much torture.
Perhaps seeing the girl as no threat, even the Soldiers guarding her were too lazy to follow her every step. The girl in the dark blue gown was allowed to walk around inside the massive monster-class airship, goliath. Except for the power area on the bottom floor, the Soldiers in other places didn't even bother to glance at her.
Muska waved his hand, having his Attendant serve two hot drinks. He sniffed them and then swapped one for a cup of black tea for Sheeta.
"Coffee isn't suitable for children." The man pushed up his tea-colored sunglasses. In front of him, the stone plundered from the girl's neck continued to shine forward with its light path unchanged.
To the legendary land they were about to arrive at.
"You can have the stone, why won't you let me go?" The girl's index finger circled the steaming teacup, her milk-white fingers blending with the white porcelain: "Why hurt Baru?"
The look the man gave her upon hearing this was very peculiar: "You are very much like a certain queen in history... Sheeta."
"Fragile, naive, kind." Muska cracked his knuckles and pushed open the cedar box on his right, "You're not suited to be a queen. Or... you are destined to be the one who is plundered, my kin."
"Queen? Kin?"
The girl was puzzled.
Muska leaned his face over the box and took a deep breath. After picking for a while, he took out a short, thick cigar. The wrapper was dark, looking rich enough.
"Your name isn't Sheeta, but Lucita Doyeru Uru Laputa."
"Right? Queen Lucita, descendant of the Children of the Wind, the only true sovereign?"
Clatter.
The girl stood up in surprise, black tea splashing on the table.
"You... how do you know my name?"
"Because you and I both share the same secret, Lucita." Muska held the cigar coldly, using his other hand to light a flame and slowly toast it: "My true name is Ska Paul Uru Laputa. Didn't your family tell you about the history of the past?"
Sheeta shook her head in confusion.
"It seems... you've all forgotten."
Snap.
The flame went out, and the man gently shook the cigar. A faint gray mist rose from the head of the cigar, swirling into rings of rich smoke that spread outward.
"We are kin, Lucita. Me, you, and our former ancestors." The man took a puff of the cigar, closed his eyes, and a few seconds later, the smoke puffed out in wisps from his mouth and nostrils. He smacked his lips and licked them: "We were once the Masters of this World."
"No..." Sheeta still shook her head.
"No... what you're saying is wrong!"
The girl clenched her small fists, her round eyes glaring at the man enjoying his cigar: "No! Grandma said we aren't the Masters of this World! That's a sign of arrogance! We should be on the earth, growing together with the trees, flowers, and animals. 'To place oneself above all things is truly foolish.' Mr. Paul, you're mistaken!"
Like teasing a Child, Muska had been listening playfully, but when "Paul" came out of Sheeta's mouth, this man became neurotically enraged!
"Don't call me Paul!!"
He slammed the table with a 'bang', the gloom behind his sunglasses flashing for a moment. Then, a squad of Soldiers rushed in at the sound, pointing their guns at the girl standing there.
"Don't... don't call me Paul, that's my only request." Slumping into the soft chair, the man waved the Soldiers away. Between the rising and falling of his chest, he took another deep puff of the cigar, exhaling the grayish-white smoke into the air.
Sheeta didn't know why Muska was angry, but she didn't want to, and couldn't, watch things continue like this: "What exactly do you want to do? Those gold and silver treasures? Or the flying stone?"
"Treasures?" The man held the cigar in his mouth and propped up his face, looking carelessly at the clouds outside the window: "Ah... if we say this World is a giant diamond."
"I do quite want it."
"What... do you mean." Sheeta blinked.
"You really are like that queen in history." Muska sneered, his nose twitching as he sniffed.
Sheeta smelled it too; the air was filled with the scent of nuts and fresh milk, sweet.
"Weak, ignorant of the World. What do you think the Children of the Wind relied on to become the overlords beneath the firmament? Preaching?"
Sheeta pursed her lips and suddenly asked: "You said I am... Queen Lucita? Am I a queen?"
"Of course, your surname. Your surname hides 'True' and 'King', symbols of pure blood. Otherwise, why is it that only you can activate the flying stone?"
Muska, also a descendant of the Children of the Wind, felt no resentment at his inability to activate the flying stone. He just laughed at how history constantly repeated itself—it was like this in the past, and it was like this now.
The True King's clan was naive and weak, ruling by so-called goodness and benevolence. And then, they were overthrown by the Vice-King.
"You must understand the operating rules of this World, understand the brilliant art of the ruler, and also see the humbleness and lowliness of the ruled." Muska held his cigar and waved his arm in the chair, the slowly swaying arm drawing trails with the lead-gray smoke—if a slower jazz piece were playing now, with a bit of afternoon sunlight and servants in maid uniforms, this scene wouldn't be so uncomfortable for Sheeta.
"Rulers are all merciful at first, and then... they become cold." He said, "What about the ruled?"
"Grateful at first, and then... numb."
"You are always merciful to the end. What is the result?"
The man didn't seem to be talking to Sheeta, but to the air, to the window, to the deep blue sky and white clouds outside. He murmured to himself, the repeated words sounding like a logic instilled in him by someone else, which he then understood and interpreted himself.
Sheeta didn't understand.
But she knew that this man's goal wasn't treasure, nor the flying stone—his ambition was even more terrifying. Even though he possessed a powerful army that, in the girl's eyes, could destroy many places, weapons with terrifying lethality, and airships that took to the skies, none of these could stop his pursuit.
What did Laputa have that he yearned for?
The girl didn't know who Muska meant by "you're just like that queen," but she was certain she was not the type to sit and wait for death!
Don't underestimate people!
"Mr. Muska." Sheeta lowered her head, pretending to be weak, her hands twisting together, feigning submission: "Can you tell me about 'our' past history?"
"My ancestors abandoned and forgot their own race, but you clearly still remember..."
"I want to know about our former glory."
"Is that okay?"
The extremely low posture made Muska very satisfied.
He pinched the cigar from the corner of his mouth and pointed to the seat next to his desk.
"Come sit here, Queen Lucita. We still have plenty of time."
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