I believe life is found in the mundane. Far too many miss out on the wonder of their own stories because of some inexplicable desire to look for the next wondrous excitement.
If only I had understood this in my youth.
The days may drag on, but the decades truly fly by.
— Excerpt from the journal of Flangel the Wise
Outskirts of ZhiXia City
Rei attempted to conceal her impatience as she lightly tapped her fan against her shoulder while hovering above Roxxa with crossed arms. The two of them observed Desmi, standing near the campfire facing towards ZhiXia City. His eyes were closed in concentration as he gripped his harpoon, its tip stuck into the ground to help him communicate with Kymja in the City.
"It's been some time now and we haven't been able to make a move," Rei murmured to Roxxa just to break the silence. "We aren't getting anything done at this rate."
The Northerner seemed to pay her no mind, but Rei saw little reason why they couldn't converse. Desmi had to be silent so his aura could pulse silently through the Whale's Domain, but neither of them were involved in that endeavor.
So she kept trying. "There's four of us here. Even if Ruskru approved of it, we are leaving too many cities undefended without our presence."
"Be silent," Roxxa finally muttered. "Hunters are rewarded with patience."
"We don't even know if the Prodigy has Flangel's Ring or if she can build the SunFlower. What if all of this is for naught? What would we tell the Prince if we lose another city?"
"There's no we here," Desmi opened his eyes. "You lost a city, Rei. Not us. Though admittedly, the Prince was prepared to give away JiangXi, given how he made me send more resources to help that Oasian City Lord."
"Once again, I did not —"
Roxxa held up a hand and Rei fell silent. "Well?" Roxxa asked Desmi. "Has Kymja been productive at all? Do we have an opening to take the Prodigy?"
"Kymja says she has moments of opportunity, but it's a different matter to safely move the Prodigy out of ZhiXia City. Even if she assumed the Whale would hold himself back within the confines of the City, she sees no way to escape the Whale on her own. And…" Desmi scratched his head, "Kymja said that the Oracle's Domain has disappeared. ZhiXia City is only protected by the Whale at this moment."
A pointed look from Roxxa caused Rei to nod. She hovered higher, raising herself up above the trees to focus her Sight in the City's direction. A few moments later, she dropped back down.
"I See the Whale's Domain, but I don't See the white aura of the Oracle's," Rei announced, slightly dubious in what she saw. "Which… makes no sense. The Oracle never leaves Sanctuary."
"That could mean anything. It's the Festival of the Hero," Desmi pointed out. "Not to mention, would it matter at all? The Submerged Leviathan."
"The Leviathan only protects Sanctuary. The Prince has said so," Roxxa murmured with her chin laying against her palm. Her brows furrowed in contemplation. "If we contain our activities to ZhiXia City, we can avoid a confrontation with the Leviathan."
"That's a lot of if," Rei opined. She did not like this at all; not this close to Sanctuary, not this close to the Whale. "We know nothing about the Oracle's activities and she conveniently lowers her Domain during this time? I know this sounds like what Jett would say but… is that not too coincidental?"
"We have been very careful about concealing our presence here." Roxxa's face seemed impassive, but her voice carried a tone of exasperation. "As you said earlier, there are four of us here. Several Cities lay undefended while we tarry. We must act soon."
***
Sanctuary
Molam found Sanctuary difficult to reach on his way back; the Festival-goers seemed to have no concept of sleep even this deep in the night. Or, he mused, perhaps no one could sleep through these firecrackers roaring an incessant cacophony outside of the Pleasure district. The custom of firecrackers came about from a folktale where the Companions allegedly did not sleep for the entire siege at the base of the Stairs. Faced with the problem of darkness and the threat of unseen attacks, the Great Sage used bright lights and noise to keep the Companions awake.
Molam suspected that Kalle's flamepowder and the contents of the firecrackers shared similar materials. He wondered if he should ask the alchemist if he was correct the next time they saw each other.
Luckily, Molam was no stranger to moving through crowds. He stuck to the sides of the roads where there was less foot traffic and took side paths that seemed empty, winding his way slowly through the alleys towards Sanctuary. Whenever he saw roving bands of drunkards, he took another path or leaned against a nearby stall, minimizing his presence so as to not attract attention. Despite the tradition to avoid conflict, Molam was unwilling to test his luck against those with impaired judgment.
A sea of people crowded the front entrance to Sanctuary itself, no doubt listening to oral tales being recited by the Priestesses and congregating around the bonfire. A glance at the distance and sheer number of people made Molam unwilling to squeeze his way through to the entrance; he opted to use one of the side entrances Priestess Komura had shown him.
Molam walked into an unassuming building where several Priestesses were making large amounts of food to hand out to Festival-goers. A pair of Priestesses came forward to block his way and Molam greeted them — then gestured to the door in the back. Upon recognizing him, they let him through.
Once inside, Molam made his way to the main hallway, intending to look for the Oracle again when he was surprised to see the Whale of ZhiXia's large form. Next moment, he noticed Shurra's tall stature leaning against a nearby wall, followed by Primrose's bright orange-red hair hovering near Master Ji's elbow, her purple eyes focused on Nettie who stood nearby. The little girl was holding hands with a stocky bearded man with a greatsword on his back; judging by his dark skin, an Oasian.
Primrose looked up; her lips flattened upon seeing him. Nettie followed her gaze, then waved cheerfully at Molam. Shurra glanced up, and nodded at him.
"I understand your concern with the unannounced lowering of her Domain," a Priestess was saying as Molam sidled up to the group. "But the Oracle's last instruction to us was quite clear. She is not seeing anyone at this moment — not even you, Master Ji."
The Whale of ZhiXia stood silent, then rumbled, "And if I wanted to leave a message?"
"I can try and leave your message at her door, but if the Oracle won't open the Inner Sanctum I won't force my way in."
"That is acceptable. My message is—" Master Ji paused, then turned his attention to Molam with an indigo stare. "My apologies," he said to the Priestess, who looked on quizzically, "but is there a spare room I can talk in private?"
The Priestess nodded, pointing to a nearby door; Master Ji took a step towards it and beckoned to Molam. Suddenly apprehensive, Molam dared not refuse.
"Just Molam," Master Ji held a hand up to Primrose and the rest as they attempted to follow. "Please wait a moment."
The Whale held the door open for Molam, who walked inside. The room looked to be one where Priestesses copied texts. Piles of paper were stacked neatly, with various tools for ink brush writing lined up. Perhaps the Festival had put a stop to the activities for now.
Closing the door behind him, Master Ji looked down at Molam, his gaze searching before he pointed to Molam's arm guard.
"Show me what's inside."
"Master Ji, I —"
The Whale gave him a look that implied he expected to be obeyed.
Molam sighed and began undoing the straps around his arm. Releasing the arm guard, he flipped it over to extricate the burnt-orange feather and held it up for Master Ji. The taller man bent down to inspect it, but did not seem to want to touch it.
"This aura is the same as the one I sense from within the Inner Sanctum," he spoke after a moment. "What do you know about it? Why are you carrying this?"
"The Oracle isn't in danger," Molam placated him immediately. "This is the feather of a spirit. The same one that the Oracle had me free from the Crimson Palace, whose egg is undergoing rebirth as we speak. I hope the Oracle has informed you?"
"The spirit egg held within Crimson Palace's Shrine?" Master Ji clarified.
Molam nodded.
The Whale stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You may not know this, but the Oracle's Domain has disappeared and was replaced with this one. She has never lowered her Domain," he added, "Not in the decades I've known her. Do you know anything about this?"
The spirit's last few words surfaced in Molam's memory. My attention will be focused elsewhere for sometime and I will not be able to respond to help you. "I think…" Molam spoke slowly, "That our spirit is currently protecting the Oracle while she turns her attention elsewhere. Perhaps she is resting? Do Domains remain active during your sleep?"
"Most Titled Ones learn early on to keep their Domains active at all times. I have concerns… but the Oracle must have had her own plans if she sealed the Inner Sanctum. Can you communicate with the spirit?"
"Hmm," Molam thought the spirit would have reacted when he was captured by HuaLang Chamber. However, since the Whale seemed insistent regarding this, he should try just to reassure him. Holding the feather in front of him, he spoke aloud. "Fiery One?"
But there was no response.
"It was worth a try," Molam gave the Whale an apologetic shrug. "It told me its attention would be focused elsewhere."
Master Ji held an inscrutable look before he finally sighed. "If the Leviathan has not acted then there is nothing to do. I apologize if you became alarmed for nothing."
"We cannot be too careful when it comes to the Oracle's well-being," Molam tucked away the feather. "Ah. Before I forget… I would like to request your help tomorrow, Master Ji."
"What is it?"
"I have been pressed into participating in the Arena. It would be easy for you to put a stop to things for me, but the situation calls for at least some semblance of a satisfying result for the other party." Molam paused, then added slowly, "Is there a way for me to participate but for you to manipulate things for me?"
Several heartbeats passed before Master Ji sighed. "I have never seen one attempt to interact with the Sage's Mirror while having your… condition, for lack of a better term. I do not know what would be summoned, or whether the Mirror would respond to you at all. It would be better if you resolved this without stepping foot in the Arena."
"Isn't the event fought within your Domain?" Molam frowned, leaning back against the wall. "There's much you can do that no one else would be able to question."
"Yes, but I believe you've convinced the others your aura is red. A starkly different color than my own."
Molam made a face. "I never thought it would come to this," he rubbed his temples, trying to think. While Molam didn't blame his past self for the decision, it always frustrated him when these past choices closed off doors he didn't even know existed.
"Do you know if," he began slowly, his eyes flickering back up to the Whale, "the Mirror would react to the Oracle's aura?"
The Whale hesitated. "I do not fully understand how the Mirror works."
Molam pressed. "If you had to guess?"
"It may."
"Would it be dangerous? I don't want to think I've found a solution only to summon something that cannot be dealt with. This is the Oracle's aura, after all."
Master Ji's eyes flickered with an indigo glow as he glanced Molam up and down. "The Oracle has imparted just the shell of her color onto you, enough to give you the presence of an auramaster. It would be… dubious that the Mirror treats you as a Titled One."
Heaving a deep sigh and pinching his nose bridge, Molam closed his eyes. "It'll have to do. Otherwise, I'll rely on you and think of an excuse."
"You could always tell them the truth about your situation."
"No." The word came out faster than Molam expected. "No," he repeated himself, slower this time. "If you were me, you would do the same."
The Whale of ZhiXia appraised him silently. "Flangel the Wise once told me that we create our own torments," the man shook his head. "For some reason, that one has always stuck with me."
"Thank you for your concern," Molam ignored the implied disapproval, cocking his head towards the door. "Now, next step: what will we tell the ones outside? I'm certain they'll have questions."
"The matter of the Oracle must be kept between us." The Whale put his hand on the door, then looked at Molam. "I'll have you deal with the matter of coming up with something else to placate their inquisitive natures. In exchange for my help tomorrow… should you need it."
Before Molam could protest, Master Ji had already pushed open the door and walked out. Molam followed, unable to decide if he heard a teasing tone in Master Ji's voice.
Outside, the Whale excused himself swiftly, stating that he needed to return to the Martial Arena before ruffling Nettie's wiry hair with a hand on the way out. The Priestesses bowed their heads slightly as he passed.
Four pairs of eyes honed in on Molam.
"Where have you been?" Primrose demanded, somehow crossing the distance in a mere two strides. Her eyes flashed purple. "Moreover — what was that about?"
"Happy Festival of the Hero to you too, Primrose." Molam replied with false cheer as he tried to think of how he would navigate her impending interrogation. "Have you been enjoying the Festival?"
"That's not an answer to either question." Her tone told Molam he couldn't avoid answering, but he wished he had more time to think in front of her Sight.
"Let's see… I've been to HuaLang Chamber and met Madam Scarlette. We had tea," he added slowly, seeing Primrose's eyes widen, "Then I agreed to participate in the Martial Arena tomorrow. Madam Scarlette was quite insistent."
If he couldn't lie, then he would distract her with the truth.
"You went to —" Primrose frowned, then her eyes widened as she came to a moment of clarity. "And that's why you — oh." A moment of silence, then, "You're participating in tomorrow's martial event?"
Excellent. Primrose had come to the conclusion he hoped and moved past her question. Molam shrugged, "It was hardly my idea. As I said — Madam Scarlette was very insistent."
A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. Molam looked up to see Shurra. "Now this is curious. We can't find you for weeks and now you show up to participate in the Martial Arena?" She leaned down, a gleam in her eyes. "Were you training?"
Molam gave her a big smile, grateful for Shurra's straight thinking. "Well, less training and more…" he paused for the right word, keenly aware of Primrose's purple gaze, "recovering."
***
Nettie yawned, watching Primrose and Shurra harass Molam for answers. Nettie didn't understand why Molam answered so indirectly. In the short time Nettie knew him, Nettie had found Molam to be categorized as the type of person to be decisive with his actions.
"The ground seems inviting?" Martyker asked Nettie kindly, scooping her up into his arm and hoisting her up so their eyes met.
"Nettie is tired," Nettie admitted, pressing a closed fist to her mouth.
"Well, the first day of the Festival is always the longest," Martyker commented as he signaled to Primrose his intentions, who nodded. "And it's long past bedtime. The pretty flower lady agrees I should help put you to bed nearby."
A quiet exchange of words with the nearest Priestesses pointed them to a room just down the hall, where they found a guest room with a solitary bed. Martyker laid Nettie down and tucked her in, saying, "Master Flangel would chide me for not making sure you clean your teeth."
Nettie snuggled in with a happy sigh. "Nettie will do it tomorrow. And clean."
"So says the setting sun," Martyker replied, standing up to leave, but then was stopped by Nettie's voice.
"Uncle Marty," Nettie said sleepily, "Can you tell Nettie a bedtime story again?"
"You do know your uncle has a match tomorrow?" Martyker smiled, "An unsharpened sword cuts nothing."
"But GrandFather said you always keep your sword sharp," Nettie pleaded. "Nettie has had to sleep without a bedtime story for a long time."
"Ahhhhh," Martyker sighed, then pulled up a chair and sat down near the bed. "Very well then. What story would you like?"
"The Hero."
"But you already know that story," Martyker frowned. "Didn't you hear the Priestesses tell it again earlier?"
"But Nettie likes the stories about the Hero."
"How about a fun fact?" Martyker teased with a grin.
"Ohhh. Love fun facts."
"Alright then." Martyker paused, stroking his beard. "Do you know why the Empire calls the Hero by a slightly modified Title: the First Hero?"
Nettie pulled up the sheet covers right past her lips, exposing only her dark button nose and bright brown eyes. "Nettie does not."
"Well, they say it comes from the Red Emperor himself, interestingly enough. There's never been another Titled One with "Hero" in their moniker, of course, and it can't possibly be a recurring Title like yours. But then, the Scholars at the Fallen Star Pavilion theorize the Red Emperor wanted to encourage people to strive to be like the Hero."
"Nettie doesn't understand?"
"Well," Martyker smiled through his beard, "If there's a first, there must be a second and more afterwards, right?"
The girl frowned, then nodded. "Is logical."
"Perhaps the Red Emperor hoped that by making it open-ended, people would aspire to be like the Hero. They would think: If I do heroic things, I can be the next Hero! Or so the water falls."
"But Uncle Marty just told Nettie there's never been another Hero Title." Nettie pointed out. "Does that mean no one has tried to make another Sun?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that creating a Sun is the sole requirement to becoming a hero," Martyker caressed Nettie's head gently. "Have you never met someone who helped you, above and beyond what they needed to do, and you came further in life because of it?"
"Nettie met Uncle Marty. Uncle Marty tells great stories to help Nettie sleep."
Martyker laughed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. At least you recognize that I don't need to tell you stories, hm?"
Nettie lifted her head above the covers to give him a toothy smile.
"Well then, here's a story about Uncle Marty's hero," Martyker fell silent, as though gathering his thoughts. "A long time ago, your Uncle Marty had an older brother and sister. They were known throughout the lands, and our father was very proud of them. Then the time came when they were called to war."
"Oh no," Nettie's small hand reached out from under the cover to touch Martyker's wrist. "War bad," she murmured sleepily.
"War bad indeed." Martyker agreed. "Very bad. My brother and sister didn't come back home alive. Our father became… distant. He was very proud of them, you see. Your Uncle Marty thought it was a new purpose, to show him that he still had one child. But I couldn't be like either of them no matter how hard I tried. I thought then that I failed in my filial duty."
"Is no fail, Uncle Marty. Cannot fail with family if you tried," Nettie said.
"That's very kind of you, Nettie," Martyker replied,"So one day, I left my home to go kill the man who murdered my brother and sister. I thought if I succeeded, it would help my father's grief. And if I didn't…" Martyker shrugged, "Well, my father wouldn't miss me."
"Did Uncle Marty succeed?"
"Uncle Marty did not," he shook his head. "The opponent — the bad man — was too strong. Terrifyingly so."
"But who was Uncle Marty's hero? Did they save you from the bad man?"
Martyker smiled at the girl's one-track mind. "Ah yes, I apologize. I was telling you a bedtime story, right? No, the bad man let Uncle Marty live, though Uncle Marty paid for his life with an arm." His left hand unwittingly went to his missing right shoulder. "No, Uncle Marty met his hero several months later. I didn't die, but I couldn't go back to my father either. Not having failed so miserably, not having lost my dominant arm."
The candlelight flickered, causing the shadows of the room to wink in and out of existence. "I took it upon myself to challenge everyone from the Empire then, between ZhiXia City and Falysos. If I couldn't kill the bad man, perhaps I could make his Empire bleed just a little bit? I think… At the very least, if I had earned a Title just like my siblings, I could go back home. Perhaps my father would then also be proud of me."
Nettie's hand squeezed Martyker's wrist. "Nettie is happy you did not die, or you wouldn't be able to tell Nettie stories."
Martyker laughed at that. "Then you should be glad that this is when I met my hero. Unfortunately, my activities had caused annoyances to more than just the Empire, and so he was sent to beat some sense into me. I lost — I couldn't even call that a fight. The difference between someone like me and a true Titled One is too great. I understood then that it's possible I could never cross that boundary, and that's when I begged him to kill me."
Nettie frowned. "GrandFather would say, if you fail your purpose you should just find another."
"That's very much like Master Flangel. I think my hero would agree, but that's not what he said to me when I was at my worst. No, he told me: how we die may matter to others, but it is how we live… that matters to us."
"Hmm." Nettie gave that some thought. "I think GrandFather would agree with that too."
"But do you see now, Nettie?" Martyker stroked her head, his coarse fingers gentle against Nettie's head. "I think a hero is exactly that. Doing just a little more than they need to do, for people they don't have a reason to do anything for. It's the small things. The Hero may have created the Sun, but one doesn't need to illuminate the world to be a hero. Just… bring a little light into someone else's world."
Snuggling her head into the pillow at his touch, the Nettie closed her eyes. "Nettie likes that. But GrandFather would say you should find purpose too, or you will have nothing to live for." She yawned deeply, fighting the onset of drowsiness. "Did… did Uncle Marty find purpose again?"
"Well, something hasn't changed. I still want to be Titled, like my brother and sister. I want my hero to recognize me as his disciple. Then, maybe… I'll return home. It's been many decades since I last saw my father." Martyker paused. "And a new purpose too. The Sun sets and rises in turn, does it not? I didn't think about picking up another purpose, but I owe Master Flangel too much to leave you alone."
***
Nettie's eyes were closed. Her deep breaths could only be seen in the way the covers rose and descended in turn. Martyker doubted she finished hearing him say what had been on his mind.
Well, it didn't matter. Perhaps it was for the better. The poor girl had gone through enough, had enough problems of her own. It would not do to heap his own problems onto her.
Martyker pushed his chair back silently, setting his greatsword to the side. Nettie was right: His sword was already sharp. As everyone knows, the weathered rock is prepared for the rain.
He blew out the candle. The lingering scent of smoke drifted in the air, seemingly amplified by the darkness. Martyker sat in the seat to watch over Nettie as he closed his eyes, beginning to meditate.
