[William]
When William came to, he found it tempting to knock himself unconscious anew. It had been a long time since he felt a pain so agonizing. Moving to sit up reduced him into an aching mess.
“You’re among the living again,” he heard Yonten say, and it alarmed him somewhat that he understood those words as a greeting.
“How long was I asleep?”
“Close to a day, a promising rate,” Stella answered, handing him a bowl filled with what he would hesitantly call a liquid.
Neither her words nor her boon comforted William. “What is this for?”
“Pain.”
“And why is it bubbling when it’s not even hot?”
“Do you want it or not?”
Well, so long as it helped subdue his aches...
It wasn’t until he finished that William noticed the familiar, uneven shape of the bowl, and the more familiar signature carved into its rim. His second-born’s work. “This is…”
“Yours? It is,” Stella confirmed. “Apologies, we rummaged through your sack.”
Immediately, Jehona pointed at Yonten. “His idea.”
“You two didn’t object when I suggested it,” Yonten shot back, turning William’s way with a placating smile. “I just thought that since your wife packed you a sauce of all things, she might’ve also packed something we could use as a bowl.”
“It’s alright,” William said quickly, before any of them thought him upset. Moving to set the bowl down, he finally took note of a slight shift against his chest, caught a sparkle on him.
His tunic was halfway unbuttoned, revealing his inner shirt and the silver pendant he wore over it. The sight of it relived William, this last gift his Sera had entrusted him with along his life.
“Never seen that one before,” came Stella’s voice to interrupt his thoughts.
William looked up at her, puzzled, and she pointed at the pendant he had been gazing upon. “The family crest carved into it. I can tell it belongs to a noble family, but it’s unfamiliar.”
Her note brought Jehona’s attention to the pendant as well, moving to take a closer look. It took only a few moments for her to declare, “It’s a noble family from Drakon Kingdom.”
The accuracy of her answer baffled William. “How can you tell?”
“The crest’s design is centered on a flame. It’s a common Drakonian motif owing to the land’s ancient connection to Elemental Fire energy.” She smiled then, a small one, something close to cheeky. “Together with your Ignish-influenced Central accent, it wasn’t hard to tell.”
They all stared at her.
“My step-mother taught me a lot,” she explained.
Yonten regarded William with a dubious look. “You’re a nobleman?”
It would have made things easier if he was, honestly. “No, I’m not. My wife is.”
Yonten appeared even more disappointed at his answer, so much that William had to pry, “What is it?”
“I thought marrying a noblewoman would bring a man riches,” he confessed, in such a tone that informed William generously of shattered dreams.
William broke into a laugh, for once finding the subject inspiring amusement rather than guilt.
“Not all nobility are wealthy,” Stella corrected Yonten’s views.
Jehona added into it, pointing at herself, “Many of them only have their names to boast about.”
Their conversation turned idle afterwards, something about what they would eat and what William could. Time passed and the medicine started to take effect. William mustered the will to eat some of the fruits Sera packed for him.
Over the night’s campfire and accompanied by the serene melody Jehona played on her lute, William finally asked, “What happened after I fell?”
The music stopped and the three turned to him. A shift in the air brought sobriety, and then they began telling him a summary of the events leading to his current state, their brief narrative holding many implications within its bounds.
Gratitude overwhelmed William, struck him speechless for a moment—leaving him unable to say anything but a repeating, hoarse “Thank you” in the next.
Those three were essentially strangers to him. He didn’t expect anything from them aside from company.
Struck by the vine’s venom, William thought his end drew near. His last thoughts were those of regret.
Beyond all his expectations, however, those ‘strangers’ watched over him in his hour of need, sacrificing rest and resources for his sake.
That was a grace to return in kind.
[Stella]
Come next morning, William stubbornly held onto his conviction of being well, countering their protests with the argument that reaching Cora Town as fast as possible was the better option for him.
According to the map Stella brought with her, Cora was fortunately only a few days’ distance away from their current location, perhaps even two if they made some progress in the night. Being one of the main towns of the Southern part of the Kingdom, Cora was well-connected to the smaller towns and villages surrounding it, the roads leading to the town worn with traces of travel.
“So this is the cottage,” Stella started, gazing upon the wreckage it had been reduced into, frowning.
They didn’t seek to pass by this cottage again, but the path they took from their stop near the pond led them here. Something about that fact unnerved her.
“Didn’t think its state would be this bad beneath the vines,” William said, sorrow woven into his voice, directed beyond what lay before them.
Indeed. What a loss.
Beside her, Jehona stepped on a vine that lost color and vitality, flexibility and the protrusion of thorn. It crumbled into a texture akin to soot. “How come the grass is still green while that Rose Monster turned into this?”
“Superior growth begets higher demands, I suppose.” Stella stepped on a vine too, and its immediate disintegration satisfied her. “Perhaps like a parasite, the greedy thing hoarded all resources for itself, even ones that would bring its demise.”
“A flawed product as all Maladies are,” Yonten mused aloud.
“That may be so, but we need to be more careful from now on.” Stella looked at the three.
Jehona evaded the look, while William—in what developed to be a vexing pattern—countered, “I can’t make promises.”
In contrast, Yonten admonished the two in such righteousness that bordered on theatrical. “You are so reckless it pains the heart. You should learn to follow my example.”
“Says the man with the value of thirty coppers,” Jehona returned.
“You of all people shouldn’t speak.”
“What are you implying?”
Stella sighed.
It was sundown when they reached Cora, and even from afar, they could see clusters of people and caravans crowding along the town’s walls.
One of the clusters surrounded a young man standing center of the town’s gates, forming a focus of noise and chaos around him.
Witnessing such a scene, Stella put down her belongings at William’s side, and then ordered Jehona and Yonten to do the same. “Bring Cinder’s emblem and Gustav’s letter with you,” she added to Yonten.
Yonten and Jehona did as told, expressions wary.
Stella pointed at the man at the eye of the storm. “Let’s go to him.”
The two were the picture of absolute reluctance.
“Let’s go,” she repeated, deliberating each syllable.
Just as reluctant, they followed her. And through it all, they unanimously ignored William’s many protests.
The simple act of approaching a man became a trial against this crowd—one made up of impatience and spite, the unwillingness to move a hair’s breadth back making up the basis of its structure.
But Stella was nothing if not persistent. Taking advantage of her short stature, she maneuvered her way through the crowd, enduring the terrible heat of the bodies circling her—so close they resembled the sheets of a tome, so suffocating it left her dazed. If it weren’t for Jehona who blocked a stray elbow from hitting the side of her head, Stella would’ve added pain into that array of miserable sensations.
The relief of reaching the front quickly dissipated when Stella realized that none of her two companions joined her. Jehona stood within sighting range, but she was too occupied pulling Yonten by the leg to advance. How Yonten came into such a predicament in the first place was beyond her.
Wanting to end their suffering, Stella moved a step forwards, only to feel her body grow heavy and her legs lose their strength. It was only by the steadying hold on her arms that Stella didn’t crash spectacularly onto the ground.
Looking back, she saw that it was her long-lost companions, finally freed.
“You think people are giving that man space out of courtesy?” Yonten said by Stella’s right, looking as though he went through the abyss itself.
The desire to get out of this crowd had her overlooking that detail Yonten pointed out. Now that Stella thought about it, it was odd how that man had a half-circular space clear of people to himself.
“It’s that sword he’s holding,” Yonten explained. “He’s channeling Earth energy through it to manipulate the ground beneath us.”
“Impressive,” Jehona let out by Stella’s left, her face covered by inky strands escaping the neat hold of her white ribbon. Compared to Yonten, she fared a touch better.
Stella had seen greater feats. “It’s what is expected of him as a Royal Knight.” Even torn and faded, Stella recognized that maroon overcoat the young man wore from the first glimpse. “We’re volunteers from Cinder Village!” she called out to the Knight, struggling to keep her voice louder than the rest.
Yonten brought out the two items Gustav gave to prove it.
The young Knight frowned, mouthing a questioning “Cinder?” to himself before approaching, inspecting the emblem for its authenticity and then unfolding the letter to read it. Confirming the legitimacy of their words, he sheathed his sword and called out to another Knight to take his place.
“Follow me,” he urged when the town’s gates opened.
As they walked into Cora, the crowd behind them broke into fierce uproar.
The Knight—who introduced himself as Flynn—obliged them to wait for William to catch up to them with their belongings. He even sent one of his colleagues out to help him.
Enraged cries accompanied William’s entry into Cora, adding guilt to the unease his eyes held.
Unease found its way to Stella, too. Long since accustomed to Cinder’s tranquil air, the frantic, loud buzz of Cora’s streets disoriented her senses.
The Knight Flynn raised his voice for them, explaining as he led them through the town, “Those you see standing with their belongings are refugees from Aslan Town. Recently, one of the Gates established a base near its northern border, cutting Aslan’s connection to the Central Plains. Since then, the townspeople fell victim to the extortion imposed by the Gate's followers, turning the town’s financial situation for the worse.”
“If they’re refugees, why not allow them entry then?” Jehona asked him.
“We plan to do so but in batches. I estimate that we’ll have all of them inside by tomorrow’s morning.” Flynn sighed. “It’s still a grueling process, hence their impatience.”
“Sounds like an ordeal,” said Yonten.
Flynn loosened up a bit at that, admitting with a hint of grievance, “The other Knights used to envy our group. Compared to their territories, the Southern side was the least troublesome. But now a Gate appeared on our grounds and everything changed…”
“You keep mentioning these Gates. What are they?” Stella never heard of such a title during her stay in Cinder.
“Ah, you’re from Cinder…” Flynn reflected, a little bemused, then he answered, “The Gates are the individuals holding keys to Aldric’s lair north of the Kingdom. They are titled based on the direction of the gate their keys open. I believe the one at Aslan to be the West Gate.”
Flynn’s steps slowed little by little, until they halted right before what appeared to be a tavern. “You’ll need to meet our leader before you continue on your journey. He’s out of town at the moment, but it’s expected that he’ll return tomorrow evening.”
Upon entering the building, they were met with a space devoid of both patrons and interior, instead repurposed to host lines of small beds.
Flynn walked them to a flight of stairs leading down. “Our residence changed with the increased demands for housing. I’m afraid that we only have one room available.”
He excused himself afterwards, letting them settle into the room.
For a basement room, it was relatively clean. Stella estimated that it was only due to the temporary nature of their stay that it was given to them.
However, they were four, and there was only one bed.
William was the first to volunteer. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Jehona countered.
Yonten already prepared a space for himself to sleep at the farthest corner of the room.
Stella rejected William’s sacrifice. “You’re the one who needs good rest the most.”
“I’m fine.”
She ignored him and took Yonten’s approach, and Jehona followed right after. In a rare show of harmony, the three of them plastered on the cold floor exchanged wishes of sweet dreams.
