He Who Waits for She Who Dreams

[orphans]

This thread is closed to SirArtemis and is part of Azza's Exodus storyline. Thread is 3 of 4 (almost there!) and follows after "Songs of the Heart." All bunnying is pre-approved. This thread will take on the first person perspective of Artemis and Oswald, a Mana Knight of Pretalia in service of Seoyruun.

"This is all I have to use to find him? What if he no longer looks like this. He seems rather young in this portrait..."

"He will look similar. Mana Knights never fully lose their discipline. Finding where Sir Ironmane is skulking though, is a different question all together. Now go."

"... as you command, my Queen."

[orphans]

Twenty years. It's been twenty years and the face of my daughter continues to haunt me. And my wife? I've long since forgotten her smile. Instead it's replaced by the sight of her holding what remained of our little girl. Even the amber colored bottle of anesthesia before me no longer works that well. If anything, it just reminds me how tired my body and heart are these days.

"Don't you think you've had enough for one sitting, Oswald?" I raised my eyes up to the bartender; an aged man like myself but with much less weighing his shoulders down.

"Still half the bottle left," was what I managed to chuckle to the tender's disapproving shake of his head.

"Suit yourself. I'm locking up for the night. Still have the key to the room?" I gave a partial nod to him prior to topping off my tumbler, only to drain it with bottle still in hand. A small comforting burn slid down the back of my throat as I breathed out a sigh.

It was a poor way to measure my ebbing vitality, but at least it ensured whatever was left of my emotions stayed level. It was... safer, this way. Most of the time, only the smell of the ale soaked wood of the tavern reminded me where I was these days. Pitiful.

Time continued to pass as the night wore on with the contents of the bottle slowly dwindling. A glance at the door ended in the same disappointment it always had. I don't even know why I kept expecting my wife to sweep in with her company of misfits behind her and crowd the few small tables and chairs in the establishment. They were all dead and my wife was somewhere far beyond the sea now.

"Desert Breeze..." I whispered her mercenary name, as if it would summon her, and chuckled again. She certainly did melt away much of the prejudices I had when she was here. Another sigh passed as I poured more to drink in hopes of clearing away the memory. Only this time, I caught a brief sight of my sorry self in the mirror behind the rows of spirits.

When did I become such a weary man? It was as if the very weight of too many winters and memories had hunched my form permanently over the bar. Grey hairs had long since taken over my head. It was only out of habit that I've kept it clean and trimmed short. A sharp widow's peak sits upon the summit of my forehead. Strong thick brows rest just over my deep set eyes while an ashen beard dominates the rest of my face. Trimmed, of course.

...When did I become so old?

[orphans]

Eventually, when sunlight began to creep through the frosted panes of glass, I dragged myself up the creaky stairs. How many times have I passed through these halls? Hundreds of times perhaps, but each time, I kept hoping that someone I knew would step into the hallway. It was a foolish notion and even if they did appear, I wouldn't know what to say. I never thought that far ahead when chasing after ghosts.

I fumbled momentarily with the key that I kept on my left wrist before sliding it into the lock. A quick twist and the sound of a click later, I pushed open the door and stepped in. Familiarity greeted my eyes, but I felt no comfort. The bed was clean with new linen sheets beside the same worn out nightstand with a small chip on the edge. My armor stood in a corner on a stand while the sword and scabbard lay strewn upon the ground instead of being propped against the wall.

A frown crested my lips before I bent to pick up the blade. As much as I hated to admit it, the weight of it in my hands brought a slight solace to my mind. But those days are over. With a careless toss, it rejoined my armor in the corner before slapping onto the ground once more.

With some effort, my clothing ended up on the only chair in the room by a puttering fire as I hauled my tired body towards the bed. As I passed the mirror, however, I caught the sight of a long scar running down my left ribs. Shaking my head, I looked down to see the maze of scars that decorated my form. "War tokens," I remembered joking once. Now? Nothing except a reminder of all that I lost to this Goddess forsaken land.

Mahana, even if I still believed in your prophecy, you are a cruel bitch indeed.

The softness of the bed did little to ease my aching back. More than anything, it just reminded me of my solitude without the warmth of my wife beside me. A yawn passed from my lips as I continued to stare at the ever-brightening ceiling of my room. The sun had finally started to cast itself over Se'lutia once again after ten long months. Even then, the enchanted magic over this land keeps the sun in a partial veil at mid day.

It was an erratic but predictable cycle; just like how war worked in Se'lutia. It was constant, but always peppered with impromptu ceasefires. It was one of the many mysteries I never understood about this land, my home, and ultimately my grave.

I just wish I could have done things differently. If only I wasn't such a fool back then.

[orphans]

I awoke as I always did: drenched in sweat and grasping at fragmented nightmares of what was my supposed "finest hour." A million lives lost in the blink of an eye after the destruction of Old Pretalia Castle and the adjacent areas. There's nothing to describe that except for mass murder and yet people praise me as a hero. Worse still, I owe my life to my daughter who sacrificed herself at the tender age of twelve to protect her beloved parents.

And what an awful parent I was then... a time when the crown still meant everything to me and war was the only thing I knew. Perhaps what has destroyed me so completely these past twenty years is knowing that I was responsible for my daughter's death and suffering.

It was I who suggested her to school in magic due to her high potential at an early age.

It was I who pushed her along the path of a blood mage, a path of untold suffering, and yet she did so unquestioningly with a smile.

And it was I who she ultimately saved with her very essence.

I've tried to rationalize it - that we all would have died had my daughter not given her own life. However, I always wonder if there was another way.

A sudden knock at the door jostled the grip of guilt off my heart and had me look about numbly for a few seconds before I thought to answer. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Peters. There is a guest downstairs searching for you by name." My addled brain tried to make sense of the bartender's words for a long time as I sat upon my bed. Someone looking for me by name?

"Who is this person?"

"She wouldn't say, but if I had a guess, a soldier of some sorts bearing the crest of the Queen." Everything in my body told me to ignore the one searching for me. The Queen was the last person I ever wanted to hear from after what was supposed to be my final meeting with her. On the other hand, I knew the types of soldiers she would send to find me and she wouldn't have done so if there wasn't some great need.

"I suppose she won't just leave, will she?"

"I tried my best, but she's rather insistent."

A long sigh passed from my lungs as I fell back onto the bed for a moment longer. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

"I will relay the message to her," Peters said as his footsteps echoed further from the door.

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, its hands pointed to sometime before noon. After an agitated groan with a few cracks from my back, I pushed myself up again to swing my legs over the side and inadvertently found myself staring at my armaments. There was only one reason the Queen would send an envoy to find me and resisting the call would get me nowhere. Still, every step I took towards my sword and armor was heavy.

[orphans]

I was told once that my presence demanded respect without my own effort...

Now that I'm nothing more than a forgotten, drunken relic of a generation passed, it surprised me that it still held true. At least for this young messenger it still does as I descended the stairs and came into her sight. When our eyes met, she stood quickly from the barstool and placed her fist within a palm, then bowed. The customary greeting one gave to elders of great repute and Mana Knights.

Peter was just as surprised, but from the looks of it, he was more so by my decision to don my armor once more. "Oswald, you don't mean-"

He was cut off quickly by the messenger as she strode forward with a scroll extended in both hands. "Sir Ironmane, it is an honor to finally meet you." There was purpose in her voice, but even now, I could see that she was nervous by a slight trembling of her frame. Or was it because she was excited?

Either way, I was in no hurry to accept. With the light filling the small tavern and without alcohol dulling my senses for once, I took my time studying the messenger before me. She was young, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties at most. Ceremonial silver plate armor covered most of her lithe figure and combined with a heavy arming sword, like my own, gave her an elegant yet dangerous air.

However, it was her eyes and hair that gave what she was away easily. The cerulean hair and sapphire eyes that held a strong glow were clear indicators that she was a grezick. I was lucky in my younger days that my hair had been a normal brown, but no grezick escapes the damning glow in their eyes. It was a mark that said we were less than human. Worse than the beastmen we fought to the west. Ironic how a large bulk of the Seoyruun military is comprised of those from the grezick domes searching for a better life.

With a heavy breath I reached for the scroll and unfurled it to read what I already knew was written.

Sir Oswald Ironmane,

By the Queen's request, the Country of Seoyruun humbly ask for your return to the Mana Knights. As your privilege of a Mana Knight, material services of your asking will be accommodated, without charge, in a timely manner. Your royal mana stone has also been reactivated and will be waiting for your pickup at Pretalia Castle.

As a final word, your new unit has already been assembled for your reinstatement and awaits your command, should you accept.

The last few words of the summon scrolls always made me chuckle. Of course I would accept. There was no way to really refuse a request scroll. It was just the formality of giving me a choice. At most, I could have delayed my reinstatement for another few days. Taking my eyes off the scroll, I looked up to see those of the woman peering at me anxiously. "What's your name?" I found myself asking, despite not really caring.

"Inta Aludor, commander of infantry company one nineteen of battalion forty seven."

"Aludor..." A familiar name. Now that I had a name to this woman's face, I could see the resemblance and my heart sank. It was never a good omen to see ghosts in the faces of the living.

"Yes sir."

"Your father... he was a good man."

"... Yes sir... he served our country well."

[SirArtemis]

"My mind... is full of fuck...

"Honestly, I can't even comprehend what is going on in this place. I've been here for a month, and I feel like I'm not even in the same world. I mean... I don't even know where to begin with this shit.

"For one, I never thought that I'd run from Corone in the hopes of escaping the trail of death that follows me only to find an island that has been at war for as long as anyone can remember. It's like even the damn history books have forgotten what peace is; the closest thing they get are short-term cease fires. It makes the Corone War look like a sparring match compared to the shit these people are going through.

"All day long, the announcement system sends public messages about news from the warfront, and it's just morbid. These people take news of death the way that people take their news on the weather the following day. It's unbelievable.

"Speaking of weather, what the hell!? If I leave the borders of the main city, I might as well be in Berevar! Hell, it makes the Salvar winter look like a hot vacation spot for people to go to get away. Even the magical gade suit that Daros made me, though it keeps me from freezing my ass off, can't do a damn thing against having me lifted straight from the ground by buffeting winds or buried beneath an avalanche here and there.

"And then there's this thing about 'grezicks.' I don't know what it is about me that makes everyone and their mother think I'm a grezick, but I've lost count of how many people have confused me for one. It happens so many times in a given day that I'm losing my patience. What the hell is the point of wearing a merc badge that identifies me as a merc if people completely ignore it and call me a grezick? Grezicks aren't mercs. I've asked people, and they have said so themselves.

"This is just ridiculous. All I hear is stuff about some Mahana deity and the Queen, whose name is just 'Queen' as far as I gather. And then the money too! I'm freaking broke! Gold is useless here! Gems I can understand, but they use shells here. Glowing shells! 'The more they glow, the more they're worth,’ they say. What the hell, how do you even make a shell glow? Hell, if I could find glowing salt or sugar it'd be worth more than the gold I'm lugging around.

"Speaking of, I'm sick and tired of the colors. It's just stupid. A country that has been at war longer than it can remember and has death announcements throughout the day shouldn't be so damn colorful. It's like I'm walking through a rainbow. And the singing too! 'Oh, dad died, let's sing. Yay!' I swear to you, the people of this city... they have some sort of mental disorder - maybe it's even a plague. This just can't be right."

Seconds passed in silence as Jackal just stared at me. "You done?" he asked me after my rant.

"Yeah," I said, letting out a sigh. "I guess I'm just not adjusting very well."

"No shit," Jackal said, tossing a throwing knife in the air playfully. It was a habit he had to pass the time. His jet-black hair matched his uniform, signifying his rank. We sat in a large room of steel and concrete, colorless and bland like the food served – it was a cafeteria after all. Dented steel tables lined the room with folding chairs scattered about wherever someone decided to pull one up. It was oddly precise yet chaotic, given that it was a military cafeteria. I'd tell you what it smelled like, but honestly, I'm not well-read enough to try to articulate exactly what was happening to my senses. The best I can tell you is that I've mostly suppressed that memory. Anyway, the men all had the same military haircut, trimmed short and kept neat; the women had slightly longer hair styles, adding a slightly feminine touch - though I'll be honest with you, not that feminine. Still, I hadn't realized my hair was fit for the military. Go figure.

"Okay, first off, the Queen has a name, we just don't say it. It's bad luck. Second, the grezick thing - it's because your eyes glow dude. And third, that suit of yours... you look so stupid. You know that right?" Jackal said, pausing the throwing of his knife to make eye contact.

"It's not stupid, Jackal. It serves its purpose. And you're not helping!"

"What purpose? If you're in the city, there's a temperature control. If you're out of the city, you are with a group of people who are protecting you from the blizzards anyways. The only purpose it serves is to make you look incredibly stupid and raise questions like how do you shit or piss in it."

"Ugh," I grunted, letting my head fall to the surface of the cafeteria table with a thud. It was lunch time and we had already finished eating, but we still had some time before we needed to go to our next assignment, so we lingered. The metal felt cold, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me over the past month. I got away from Corone, and that Callahan gunslinger, sure - but I just got myself into a deeper mess. Now I couldn't even leave if I wanted to. I was stuck, unable to do anything but wait it out before I could go home where my friends were waiting - including Jay. I couldn't even put into words how much I missed her.

"This sucks," was all I could muster.

__________________________________________________ ___

It wasn't that my feet were heavy. That's not why I was dragging them. I just lacked the enthusiasm to exist. That's not to say I wanted to die. I just didn't have that much motivation to live. It's more of a strange limbo between wanting to die and wanting to live that, well, makes you drag your feet I guess - among other things.

Jackal and I had left the cafeteria and gone to the barracks. We generally reported in for afternoon duties after lunch block, and so we did as we always did... reported in after lunch block.

The building was typical for barracks. The walls were gray brick with barely a handful of windows lining the walls and a single metal door at one end. Inside there were a score of incredibly uncomfortable bunk beds, split evenly among the two sides of the structure. At the foot of each bed were wooden trunks, stacked in pairs for whomever shared that particular uncomfortable patch of existence. Though these barracks were mostly empty.

The people who lived in this particular brick 'home' were myself, Jackal, the white-haired girl named Sophia, the eluvian engineer Erieai, the magic-specialist Maybel, and their acting team leader Pell - and today, they were all gathered and waiting.

"What's going on?" I asked Pell.

"They finally found our commander," he replied while sharpening his broadsword.

"So what does that mean?"

"It's time to actually do some work."

[orphans]

I had almost forgotten how it felt to breathe in the forever frozen air of Pretalia, pride and capital of Seoyruun. Crisp and clear but all too palpable with silent desperation of those who walked its streets. Even so, the songs that permeated the air told otherwise and filled whoever intended to listen with slivers of hope. At least it did for me in my younger days. Now? I'm not so sure.

"Sir Ironmane, may I ask for you to satisfy my curiosity?" The nervous voice of my companion lured me away from my thoughts. In reply, I offered a faintly interested glance in her direction as we walked through the winding streets. "What... was my father like?"

A simple question, yet a difficult one. Should I honor the power of legacy or tell her the bitter truth? With a sigh, I managed some semblance of a smile. "As I said before, he was a good man. What more do you want to know?"

Inta's eyes became crestfallen at my words as we both sidestepped an automatic wagon rolling past. "I wished to know him as a person. All I have are letters and words about him."

For a time, I said nothing in response as the two of us made our way in silence towards the Capital District to retrieve my mana stone. When we were finally stopped outside the gates of the castle, I offered what little I knew in the ways of consolation. "Sometimes, Inta, it's best to keep it that way. Besides, I can only offer more words."

She opened her lips to answer, but then stopped and saluted me with a hand instead. "I'll wait here and show you to the barracks after your meeting." It wasn't necessary of her, however I was thankful. In fact, I didn't realize how little I remembered of the streets until I tried to trace in my mind the way back.

--------

Once inside the castle, however, I felt strangely at ease with the familiarity of my surroundings, but not comfortable. It was the first time I had been inside the new castle, but the structure was nearly identical to the old one. Hallways were still long and marbled, soft light filtered in from the windows regardless of how it actually was outside and guards patrolled everywhere. The only things that were missing were the ancient murals lining the walls. Instead, banners of the Queen hung in their place as if to hide this imperfection.

A dark chuckle passed my lips as I recalled the child who was forced to take the place of her assassinated mother. The very source of why this country even tore itself apart twenty years ago. She would be no child now and considering the country was still holding together, she must be doing something right. I shook the thought away as I stood before the doors to the throne.

Both guards flanking the ornate double doors saluted me and in return I gave a polite nod. One of them then cracked the door open and slipped inside. Goddess, how I hated the formalities. Thankfully, I only waited a few minutes before both doors opened to allow me inside.

What awaited me, on the other hand, would have taken my breath away had it not been for my current mood of general apathy. Nobles and commoners alike lined the sides to see my reinstatement. I could hear their excited whispers and feel their eyes upon me as I walked ever closer to the throne. An orchestra too, began to play the traditional song to returning "heroes" from campaign. It was an impressive celebration indeed and for what? Me returning to duty to carry out some heinous task no other Mana Knight could? If anything, I felt a tremendous amount of guilt. In this grand room where the high ceiling stretched to the heavens and the floor open enough to race horses, they honored the memory of a false man.

"Sir Oswald Ironmane, it is good to see you again," the Queen said with a smile as I neared. She rose from her seat to descend the few steps down, and remembering my manners, I took a knee and bowed my head. In an action that surprised both me and the crowd, she bent down herself and placed her hands on both my shoulders. "Please Oswald, stand in my presence. You did save my life, more than once, after all."

I did as she requested and stood before her. She was much shorter than I was, but held herself with great poise despite wearing an ornate set of armor that looked much too heavy for her. Her mother's armor, repaired of course. "It's been a long time, my Queen."

Her sea-green eyes misted as she maintained her smile with a bit of pain. "You as well, Oswald? Superstition will be the death of me at this point," she offered with a soft laugh as she combed a few loose strands of her midnight black hair behind an ear.

"My apologies, Mara."

"Accepted." Without further ado, she clapped her hands together once and an echo resounded throughout the room. Silence fell as Mara pulled her palms apart to reveal a dull amber stone. "Sir Oswald Ironmane," her voice suddenly boomed, "By your acceptance of reinstatement, you are hereby bound to follow the crown once more. In return for your services I bestow upon you the holy symbol of your esteemed station."

Just as her mother did before her, Mara offered the stone with both hands held out to me; as a sign of great reverence to the receiver. I took it and managed to give a grin as I turned to the crowd. In the customary fashion, I raised the stone overhead as it gave a bright burst of silver light upon reactivation. I had laughed when I was younger at my fated color. Now, it felt rather appropriate for an old man like me to bear such a color.

Those gathered about applauded and cheered, probably with the delusion that some impressive operation was about to commence with my return. I knew better and so did Mara, lest she forgot our conversation the day I left. Turning to face the Queen, I placed my mana stone over my heart and bowed. In turn, she bowed as well. "If you will excuse me, Mara, I will report to my assignment right away."

"Of course, Oswald, at your leisure. Just one more request before you leave, if I may." One of my brows peaked inquisitively as she gave a sugared smile. "The woman who searched for you, Inta Aludor, might you take her on as your aide? Or would it offend you to do so?"

"Not at all, Mara, I will do as you ask." She frowned, but as she made to reply I quickly added, "I will consider it as a personal gift from you."

"Safe journey then and may Mahana guide you." A traditional blessing and it was all I could do to not scoff at it. One last bow and I was on my way as the court guests began their business of... whatever the hell it was they did. Court life was never something I could stand. Still, it was good to see Mara in high spirits.

[orphans]

There was an odd feeling inside my chest when I finally stepped outside of the castle. One I couldn't quite place. It was somewhere between comfort and grief. Perhaps if I took the Queen aside and told her I've changed my mind... but no. That wouldn't do at all. I had given my word that I would only return should she request it personally. Whatever I am to do... my intuition tells me it'll be the last task I complete for this country.

Inta must have seen my hesitance in leaving as she gave an apprehensive cough. "I don't mean to rush you, Sir Oswald, but your unit is waiting." I gave one more look to the spiraling towers and flying buttresses of the castle before agreeing with a nod.

Reaching the barracks as most of the soldiers were returning from their noontime meals, Inta and I stopped at one far down the line near one of the end rows. A rather out-of-the-way placement, but it suited someone like me. "I suppose this is where we part," Inta suddenly said as she gave a salute and made to leave.

"Inta." She stopped and looked to me questioningly. "The Queen has requested that I take you as my aide. Does that suit you?"

The woman stared, conflicted it seemed, before she gave a single nod. "I'm surprised she would request such a thing from me. I'm sure there are those better suited, but if it is her command, I will gladly accept." Then with a wave to the door before me, she said quickly, "I will go gather my belongings and prepare to transfer them here. I'm sure your unit is eager to meet you." With that, she left with a bit more bounce in her step.

Yet somehow I doubted that they would be too eager. I knew well of my reputation and it has become a mixed blessing. Either people revered me as a champion or feared me as a cold blooded killer. Still, the assignment papers I received on the way out said two of those present in my unit would be mercenaries from overseas. A bitter sigh left my lips as I grasped the handle and opened the door.

What greeted me must have been the most disorganized group I've ever seen in my entire life. Perhaps the military of Seoyruun had become complacent with itself as discipline certainly seemed lax among the group gathered. That was until the one sharpening his broadsword looked up to see who had entered. Immediately, he sheathed the blade and stood at attention. At this movement, the others looked up and followed suit. Some did so a bit reluctantly and some in confusion. As they did, I took the time to give each a quick onceover.

First was the man who had been tending his sword. I could tell he was a serious man from the way he carried himself and the glow in his golden eyes marked him as a grezick.

Next was a man who had the air of absolute boredom as he thumbed the handle of a long knife at his side - a potential difficulty.

Across from him was a troubled looking man and as our eyes met briefly, I could tell I was the reason. The mark on his cheek confirmed it, as he was a sixth circle mage. An odd thing to have in a unit, however, his knowledge and support would be useful.

Beside him was an eluvian woman who, despite standing at attention, was still fiddling with some sort of contraption in her hands.

Across her, a man that looked like a grezick, but lacked the subtle glow in his eyes, appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.

Then a surprise made me narrow my eyes towards a figure beside the would-be grezick; a small figure barely gracing the height to be a convincing eluvian adult. As my gaze settled upon her features, more specifically her horns and wings, I finally understood why I had been called back. Confusion seemed to be her state of being as she glanced in my direction.

"Names and stations?"

First to respond was the grezick, "Pell Ringmar, acting unit leader."

"Jackal Shavuk," the one thumbing the knife began without much enthusiasm, dragging out each word as he continued, "I'm a scout, apparently."

The circle mage shook his head at Jackal's response and spoke clearly and quickly, "Maybel Wallsmore, magic support."

A frustrated groan came from the eluvian woman as she threw the device she was working with onto her cot and fluttered a hand in what I assumed was a greeting. "Erieai Ezraehie, engineer and heavy weapons platform expert."

Her reply made me raise a brow in speculation as to why I would ever need someone of her specialization in my unit as I looked to the next person. "Artemis Eburi. Uh... I guess... temporary employ?" Someone laughed at his reply as I merely continued on. A dim witted mercenary it seemed.

When it was the creature's turn to speak, she frowned. It suddenly dawned upon me that she might not even understand what was being discussed. The thought was driven away as she hesitantly said, "Sophia, mercenary from Corone."

The chances of the girl sharing the same name as my deceased daughter were improbable, and yet, she did. And to be a mercenary from the same land as my wife as well? If I didn't know better, I would have said Mahana herself was toying with me.

Banishing the thoughts away, I looked to each one more time before offering my own introduction. "I am Oswald Ironmane, a Mana Knight of Pretalia." Recalling the assignment sheet, I pulled it from a pocket and read it again quickly. "You all have one week to gather whatever it is you need. We're heading to the front. Until then, you are free to do whatever you please or say goodbye to whomever you need to."

It was the only thing I could offer them as I made my way towards the back of the barracks to the commander's quarters. Half way there, I remembered that there was one more member to join us still. Turning, I saw a few had already left and decided that Inta could handle introducing herself.

[SirArtemis]

He looked so miserable - this Oswold fellow. I already got the feeling he didn't like me very much, or at least didn't hold any exceptionally positive feelings toward me. But the way this guy carried himself, I don't think he had a sliver of optimism or positivity left in him. It might sound crazy, but I loved that about him! At least this guy was sane. I mean being at war for this long, depression seemed like the right course of action.

He went over to the back office - a small side room in the corner of the barracks that was normally used by Pell. I waited for a bit, thinking about what I would say to the guy. Whoever this guy was, he had a very meticulous nature to him. Eventually I went over to the room and gave a knock.

"Is there anything I can help you with or do for you?" I finally asked.

"No," he said curtly.

"Are you sure? Nothing?"

"I would worry more about yourself rather than me."

I tilted my head. "Not even some water or anything?"

"You do realize this may be your last week alive."

"Well that's morbid."

At that, the old man finally smiled. "Yeah, it is, but unfortunately it's the reality of this place. Welcome to Se'lutia."

I turned to leave, sighing and heading for the door out of the barracks. I found myself mumbling as I walked away. "I'm the luckiest man alive. Maybe I'll even have the privilege of getting lost in the wilderness and never make it to the warfront. Or an avalanche will bury me. Who knows?"

When I pushed the door out in frustration, I heard a quiet chirp come out of a woman. Apparently I had hit someone. I stepped around the door and saw an angry looking woman. For a moment, I remembered my luck. "Sorry," I said with a sigh. "I'm just in a bad mood. I shouldn't have opened the door so quickly."

"It's fine," she said as she rubbed her hand.

"Are you looking for someone?" I asked her, confused as to why she'd be heading to our barracks.

"No, I was bringing my things over to move in. I'm the newest member of the team." I was confused for a second, until I looked down and realized the trunk on the ground beneath her feet. I must have knocked it out of her hands when I shoved the door open. "I'm the personal aide to Sir Ironmane."

"He doesn't need anything. Don't worry, I checked."

She chuckled in response. "Well, I have to get my stuff inside either way, so I'll double check."

"Just don't let his morbidity bring you down. He might just remind you that there actually is a war going on, unlike all these choirs running around."

She smiled in response. "They sing for the dead, to remember them."

"As if you could forget..." I couldn't help but sigh again. She probably thought I had some kind of breathing defect. "I'm Artemis by the way, from Salvar."

"Ah, you're one of the mercenaries. You look sort of like a grezick, but slightly different."

I narrowed my eyes at her. A part of me wanted to yell at her saying that I'm not a grezick, but she had admitted that I was a bit different. "Yeah, I signed on thinking to get away from some of the violence going on in Corone, with the war and all. Who knew I'd end up in a bigger war."

"You sound like you have a bit of luck in you."

"You have no idea..."

"I'm Inta."

"Into what?"

She jabbed me in the ribs for that one. "That's my name. Inta Aludor."

"Of course..." I said through gritted teeth. "Seems I have luck with women too. Off to a bad start with everyone. Alright."

"No, we're even. The punch balanced things out. Anyway, mind holding the door for me? And don't hit me with it this time."

Holding my ribs with one hand and the door handle with another I opened it up for her and watched her carry her trunk inside. I let the door close and looked up at the sun, veiled as it was. Their weather controlling equipment seemed to have a strange distorting effect on the warm glow, and I found myself staring up at the orb with no trouble at all. I don't know why I stared at the sun. I suppose it just felt empowering, since I normally couldn't do it without excruciating pain. It was almost like a sort of victory, as though I had some power over it. At least I had some power in my life.

After finishing I saw Sophia off in the distance and decided to catch up with her and see what her plans were for the rest of the day. "Hey Sophia!" When she heard me call, she stopped and turned with a puzzled expression. "Hey, what are you going to do for the rest of the day?"

"Um..." she began, "I was going to go visit a library or some of the temples."

"Really?" I asked, confused as to why this young girl would do such a thing. It sounded more like what Maybel would do. "Alright, well, do you mind if I tag along? I had no plans really."

"Alright," she shrugged.

"Alright then!" I agreed, gesturing for her to lead the way. "So why libraries and temples?"

"I find them calming. Familiar even," Sophia mumbled as we began to walk. "And they tell me a lot of stories too - the keepers I mean. Legends mostly. A lot of grim things. But they always revolve around this... Mahana. Supposedly, she looks like... well... like me; or my kind at least."

"I've heard that name a few times - Mahana. I'm still not too sure about all of it. Nothing on this island is anything like what I'm used to. It's strange really, coming from a town I grew up in for most of my life, traveling all over Althanas, settling in Salvar - I've even been in a war before, though probably not of the scale of all of this."

Our steps were slow, casual. As though we weren't in much of a rush. Perhaps we weren't. After all, like Oswold said, this might be our last free week alive. Maybe we were just enjoying it without really thinking about it, taking the distraction away from what was to come. Or maybe we were just tired.

"I guess I really don't know nearly as much as I sometimes pretend to. But still, I hope everything turns out okay for all of us."

"I'm sure we'll be fine. I mean... from what I hear, we're in good hands." As Sophia finished, I just walked quietly beside her, lost in my thoughts and letting my reality drift. My brain had enough ability to keep her in my peripheral and stay by her side as I began to imagine all the things I had seen when I looked out past the bubble of reality that kept this city safe. I wasn't as sure as her about us being fine. But I didn't seem to have much choice in the matter either. It was do or die, and I wasn't keen on dying.

Minutes passed in silence and muffled voices as we walked and even the comments about me being a grezick didn't bother me much. Eventually we came upon one of the largest structures I had ever seen - it rivaled the architecture of the Citadel back in Corone. The architecture, though I'm not a master of it by any means, looked pretty ancient; there was no metal, only stone - which was interesting given that the ship we had come in on was a massive vessel of steel. Countless spiraling towers reached toward the veiled sun, and the only thing I had ever seen bigger were the few grezick domes. Then again, those weren't architecturally impressive by any means - they were literally gigantic metallic domes - like a half-sphere - housing an entire community.

To be honest, I hadn't even noticed the transition from the typical beat up ground of the military area to massive open courtyard that surrounded the property of the temple. There were countless varieties of flowers lining the perimeter and even the fence could be described as beautiful, though oddly enough there was still no grass. Perhaps it was just too cold, even here. There were some families that were scattered throughout the open landscape - it seemed that this courtyard doubled as a park for many of the citizens. Couldn't blame them - there weren't very many pretty areas in Seoyruun, even with the vibrant colors.

"This is pretty impressive," I said to Sophia, who stood beside me with a smile.

"Mm!" she agreed with a nod, moving forward and up the steps into the temple. Of course, I followed.

Once we passed through the large archway into the structure, I felt like I was in a museum. There were countless murals and ornate designs scattered throughout the temple. It was definitely far more elegant than the Citadel, that's for sure. I recognized a few of the depictions, though not many. One seemed to be showing references to the Demon Wars, and another I assumed represented the founding of Se'lutia - this island. When I looked down to Sophia, her eyes seemed affixed to a particular mural, and as I followed her gaze, I could somewhat understand why.

It was a mural depicting a city situated right between two warring nations, when the land was still green and fertile. Hovering over the city was someone with similar features to this small girl - it had wings and horns much like hers. I turned and noticed that opposite that mural, upon another wall, was the exact same image, except now the land was more similar to what everyone knew today; there was frozen snow and storms, and part of the island was shown to have raging beasts of staggering size. In the middle where the city once was, it showed the figure from before, arms stretched to either side as if trying to pull the two together - but there was no longer a city.

I stopped a robed man passing by, who I thought might work at the temple. "Excuse me, may I ask who that figure is in these two portraits?"

"Ah," the aged man said as he lifted his tired arm to point at the figure in the center of the fertile mural. A raspy voice showing his age managed to force out a few softly spoken sounds. "That is Mahana," he began, "she who was the shepherd for our ancestors. Under her guidance, we prospered." Turning to the one that reflected Se'lutia today, he continued. "But unfortunately, our ancestors betrayed her trust and invoked her wrath in her one moment of weakness."

"Mahana, huh?" I asked, setting my hands upon my hips. "I hear that name a lot around here."

"Yes," he said through labored breaths. "Mahana is the dominant religion of this land. It is the worship of magical energies inside us and that Mahana will one day deliver her promise of salvation. Those who do not carry mana inside of them are deemed unworthy and sent to the domes." As he spoke, his gaze lingered elsewhere.

"Grezicks, right?" I asked, looking at him. I was surprised he hadn't confused me for one, but then again, his vision probably wasn't as good as it once was.

"Yes, that is correct, but not all grezicks are lacking in mana. In fact, you resemble a grezick; though you can't be, because you would know the answer to these questions if you were from around here."

"Fair enough," I said with a nod. "And you're correct, neither of us are from here. I come from Salvar, of Althanas. But thank you for being kind enough to answer my questions."

"You're quite welcome," he said with a slight bow. "Do be careful. You're a far way from home, and Se'lutia is not a forgiving island."

"I'll do my best, thank you," I said with a bow of my own. With that, the man shuffled away, and I turned back to give the two murals a long look. When I finally looked down to my side to Sophia, she was gone.

"Dang it!" I mumbled to myself, looking for where the girl had gone.

[orphans]

My first day back and already filling out a full detail report. Oddly enough, it gave me a strange sort of calm in the silent, empty barracks. A quick glance at the clock told me that it had only taken me a short ten minutes. A chuckle rose from me as I realized that either I forgot how to fill out a report correctly or that I simply no longer cared as much as I used to. In any case, there wasn't much to say about my new team. Sealing the envelope with the wax and seal I found inside the desk, I left the small package in my outbound basket and stood to leave my office.

Barely had I left my office, I was greeted by Inta's bright blue eyes as she gave a quick salute. "I've brought my things. Is there somewhere specific I should place them?"

I shook my head to her. "There are plenty of empty bunks around," I said and waved my arms about the empty barracks to emphasize my point. "Feel free to pick whichever one isn't occupied."

Hesitance strode about in her eyes before she finally gave a nod and moved off to unpack her things. "Sir," she began as she moved her single metal trunk about to an open bunk, "this Artemis fellow... is he one of the mercenaries?"

"He is," I replied. There wasn't much I could say about the man. He seemed like a cheerful fellow, though slightly lacking sanity. Or maybe completely oblivious to the world around him. The thought brought a grin to my face as I thought back to my original unit. They weren't oblivious, but the dreary atmosphere of Seoyruun never held them down.

Inta was rummaging through her trunk as she continued, "The man looks like a grezick though, doesn't he?"

"A bit, but you can tell he isn't if you look closely," I answered without much thought as I moved from each occupied bed to the next, checking them and the personal objects each person kept on their nightstands.

"I worry about his combat abilities." It was a very flat statement as she pulled out a small portrait of man and woman, both in military uniform, and child: her family most likely. Part of me wondered if my little girl would have followed in my footsteps if she were alive, just as Inta did with her father.

Driving the thoughts away, I asked with some interest, "Why?"

"I gave him a playful jab in the ribs and he acted as if I stabbed him." A soft laugh parted from her as she stood with a set of issued clothing and placed it on the bed. "I'm guessing his specialty isn't combat related, is it?"

My lips frowned at the lack of an answer. Artemis had only referred to himself as a temporary employee; civilian terms and a rather poor choice at that. If anything, the man seemed more suited to be a jester. "I'm not certain what he is."

Inta made a face somewhere between an amused smile and frown. "I see. Where are the others?"

"I allowed them free time for the week before we depart. From what I can tell, most of them are well versed in what we're to expect, except the two mercenaries." My thoughts shifted to the small girl as I reached her bunk. Perhaps that was the wrong way to describe the creature of legends. A Skalu Hudie in the flesh was certainly something I never would have dreamed of seeing. Yet her name, Sophia, brought back more painful memories than were needed. I suppose even after all these years of brooding I wasn't prepared to face something as simple as a name.

Then I noticed a length of blue ribbon resting on the girl's night stand and my heart nearly crumbled. How many times had I watched my wife use a blue ribbon to braid my daughter's hair? Temptation gripped me to reach for the ribbon, but I forced the impulse away. "Sir?" Inta's voice brought me back to reality as I turned to her. "I asked if you needed anything before I left. I would like to visit my family before we leave for the front."

Family. It seemed like such a foreign word now. "Of course, Inta." Yet, as I finished, she stood there indecisively, giving the impression that she wanted to say more. "I'm sure your family would like to see you once more before you leave for the front."

"Yes sir." She gave a firm salute and then made her way out. And just like that, the barracks was empty and desolate again.

With a sigh, I sat down on Sophia's bed and picked up the ribbon anyways. Studying it for what might as well have been eons, I placed it back onto the table and stood up. When I went to wipe my face with a hand, however, I caught the slight scent of lavender. My sudden laughter rang out in the empty building as I made for my office. A young girl appears from the continent of my wife's origins, with the same name as my deceased daughter, carrying a ribbon of the same color and scent that my wife always used to braid my little girl's hair. Somewhere in my mind, I convinced myself that this was all just coincidence.