9 The Master Of The Mountaintops

BANG!

"Silvio, what the heck?"

Hana brushed a layer of soot off her face and scowled at her brother, his hair blown back in the explosion, a goofy expression wiped across his blackened countenance. Between them, the shattered remnants of a mortar and pestle scattered across the floor of the gondola. Huffy, Hana got up off her seat and moved to the other side of the vehicle, staring out the window to the treetops below.

"You ruined my uniform," she sighed, observing her reflection in the windows. "What were you even trying to do?"

"Trying to invent a new potion or something," he said. "You know, something that'll explode for the fireworks display."

"Then you're getting pretty far with that." She smoothed her wrinkled tunic and groaned. "Can't you take a break? We don't want to be banned because of you. Oh Gods of the Land and Sky, hear my prayer and bestow upon me your blessings: Parta pulmenta." The shards and remains of the powder he was making glowed and swept themselves up into a neat pile. "... Levitatia." And straight into the garbage they went.

"No can do," said Silvio. "I have to perfect it before the Festival. Jan's already got the colors and choreography figured out. I'm in charge of the explosions, so I have to make sure they're perfect."

"What did you put in that potion, anyway?"

"Charcoal, sulfur, and potassium nitrate. After much trial and error, I've discovered these ingredients are the ones that explode best! The problem is how much of each I should put in so this doesn't happen again." He scratched the nape of his neck, embarrassed.

"You're pretty much done, then. Take a break before you kill us!"

"I don't have a choice. Looks like we're here!"

The twins rushed to the front of the gondola. Ahead of them stood a large building, not as big as Isaana's Temple, but every bit as beautiful. The gondola ground to a halt on the landing and they hopped out. Two Sorcerers dressed in flowing black robes greeted them, lowering their staffs. The glow surrounding the gondola fizzled out, and it was still.

Even Sorcerers worshipped the God of Selflessness and Good Karma, it seemed.

"Welcome to the Temple of Rirasiru," said one. "Ah, those uniforms… you two are devotees of Isaana?"

Silvio nodded. "We're here for my sister's schoolwork. Do you mind answering some questions? But we'll make an offering, of course!" he added, to which the Sorcerer priests brightened up.

"I don't think that would be a problem," said one of the priests, "but it probably would be best for you to make an offering first."

"Sure, no problem!"

But in truth, Silvio had no offering.

Silvio and Hana followed the priests into the Temple. Immediately they were hit with heat and almost oppressive humidity. Silvio blinked the steam away. They stood in a narrow hallway, floors decked in rugs from foreign countries and walls covered in murals and red paper. There were flowers everywhere—on pots on the ground, in planters on the walls, petals strewn all about. And before them stood a set of stairs that went straight up to the heavens, two waterfalls on either side pooling into streams around them. And where the water hit the ground, steam rose.

"This Temple was built on a natural hot springs," said one of the priests, leading them up the stairs. "Bathing here is a sacred ritual. In the old days, these springs were the only way the miners could have a warm bath, but before the gondola was built, the trek here was punishing. It is said it was so intense they took it as a trial from the Gods, and therefore believed that not only could it cleanse your body, but your soul as well."

"Speaking of which, you children are filthy," said the other priest. "Does Isaana-sa let her acolytes ruin their holy vestments like that?"

"What? Of course not!" Silvio blushed. "I-It's a long story!"

"No matter. You must purify yourselves before visiting the shrine anyway." They stopped in front of a door. "You must bathe in the holy springs. Lord Rirasiru purified it himself."

Silvio didn't see what was so holy about using the God's old bathwater, but he held his tongue. "Wait…" he said after a pause, "does that mean I have to be naked?"

The priests laughed.

"Here," said one, opening the door. He pulled a shapeless garment off a hook and chucked it at Silvio. "You go first. Change into this."

Silvio did as he was told. When he entered the chamber, he found himself in a tent. The door slammed shut behind him. He looked at the garment in his hands. It was a white robe like the priests wore, made of silk or some other nearly weightless material. As he undressed and cast his school uniform aside, Silvio thought how strict the Temple of Rirasiru was compared to that of Isaana. Aside from services, the Goddess wasn't particularly concerned with rituals or anything else spiritual, for that matter. The Gods were all unique, like people, he thought. Even though Crowe said that they couldn't be compared to human beings, they had personalities and preferences like anyone else.

He tightened the cord around the garment's waist and stepped out of the tent. All around him were hot springs and exotic plants. Tropical butterflies pooled around the wet stones making a path between the ponds, and a flock of budgerigars flittered about, chirping to announce their visitor.

Silvio smiled at the wonderful sight. These weren't animals that could be found in Gesmaura. Perhaps long ago, before Rirarisu-sa was imprisoned here, he traveled the world and brought them back to his Temple so that everybody could enjoy them.

He waded into one of the pools. The water was warm, but not scalding hot. It felt nice. As with the streams, flower petals also floated in the spring. He reached into the water and scooped some up. Silvio couldn't identify them. They were pink, like roses, but the petals weren't shaped the same.

Placed next to the pool was a wooden bucket. Silvio knew what its purpose was right away. Scooping up a bucketful of water, he poured it over his head, imagining he was a pile of sauna stones. He sputtered and rubbed the water out of his eyes.

"Oh… you got ahead of yourself." One of the priests from before entered the pool with him.

"Am I purified now?" asked Silvio.

"Not quite," said the priest. "Will you recite the mantra?"

"Mantra?"

"Oh! That's right. You wouldn't know Rirarisu's." He took a small book out of his pocket and flipped it open to a bookmarked page, pointing out a passage. "You were supposed to recite this then wash your hair, but it's no big deal. Just wash yourself again after reading it."

Thanks for the heads-up, Silvio thought sarcastically, but he took the book anyway and held it up to the light so he could see the small print better.

"What waste is human existence and how tainted in sin is human blood. Deliver me from all worldly evils and render this prison of flesh to ashes. Free me from these desires that shield my soul from joining all others. My body does not matter. My thoughts do not matter. I do not matter. One day I too shall rot to bone and they still living will no longer utter my name, like everyone else before me, and like everyone else who shall be. Unbind me from the cocoon of human ego and cast me into a sky of enlightenment. Let me melt away like a raindrop into an ocean of understanding. Please, liberate me from the sin of myself."

Handing the book back to the man, Silvio held his breath and dropped another bucket of water over his head. Did Rirasiru write that himself? It was depressing—but he supposed he would write the same sorts of things if he were imprisoned for over a hundred years as well. He bit his lip. Being in this Temple just made him angry.

For Hana's sake, he reminded himself.

So she could finish writing her essay, and it would probably be better than his. Everything she did always was.

"Does this work?" he asked the priest at last, pulling himself out of his funk.

"Yes, that'll do. Follow me."

"What about Hana?"

"You mean your sister? She'll catch up with you in a moment. Only one visitor is allowed in the spring at a time."

What strange, picky rules. They exited the pool and climbed up another flight of stairs. By now Silvio was starting to grow short of breath. At last, they stopped at a large set of double doors, made of formidable dark oak coated in some sort of waterproof lacquer and detailed with ornate carvings and sparkling gold paint.

"It's best to get your offering ready now," said the priest.

Oh, shoot!

Silvio forgot. Even if he had one, he would've left it in his school uniform. Noticing his expression, the older Sorcerer raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have it?"

Silvio's cheeks grew flushed. The wet robes were sticky and clung to his skin, making him feel naked, small, and extremely uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he admitted, hanging his head. "Is there anything else I can give?"

The priest smiled. "An offering is an offering. Your blood will do."

"What?" Silvio's jaw dropped and his muscles tightened.

"You heard me. You may offer your blood."

His mouth went dry and scratchy, and he struggled for words. "You're going to cut me open?" he stammered.

"Don't be silly!" said the priest, upon realizing the weight of his statement. "Just a few drops of blood, is all. A prick on the finger and that's it."

"I… I don't like needles…"

"Um, sir, he can have part of my offering." Hana showed up behind them with the other priest, on cue to save the day. In her hand she clutched two branches covered in bright pink buds. They were the same kind of flower as the ones that floated in the water. "Will that work?"

"I don't know." Silvio's priest clicked his tongue. "An offering really should be yours alone…"

"But it's in the spirit of the God of Selflessness to give up part of her offering so he won't have to suffer, right?" said the other one. "Plus, I think Rirasiru-sa would prefer flowers to blood."

"You know what? You're right." He gave Silvio a reassuring smile. "I think it'll work, but don't go gabbing to anyone else about it. All right, you may proceed. Just lay your offerings on the alter and say some prayers if you wish… if Isaana-sa permits that, of course."

Thanking him profusely, Silvio opened one of the doors and entered with Hana. "You saved my butt…" he said, but trailed off when he saw the God's chambers.

It was a hot spring and botanical garden all in one. There were pools—some hot, some cool, and waterfalls cascading off of natural stone. Giving it some thought, Silvio realized the Temple wasn't just built on the springs—it was built directly into the mountain to accommodate the waterfalls that stretched for several storeys down the hill. He marveled at the geology of it all, wondering even more so how they managed to integrate the building so seamlessly with the natural features around it.

Every place that wasn't a pool or a path was bursting at the seams with plant life, exotic flora from rainforests far, far away. (And flowers. So many flowers.) And if Silvio was impressed by the budgies on the lower floor, he was blown away by all the birds living up here—it was a veritable aviary. There were macaws and tanagers and toucans and lories and wrens, wings so dazzling they almost looked like brightly colored kites in the sky. They perched on the bridges leading over some of the pools, and munched on fruits and seeds in painted bowls, their loud calls breaking up the otherwise serene stillness of the garden.

And in the center of it all was a teahouse, styled like the ones he saw in pictures detailing nations in the Far East. What were they called, again? Pagodas? That sounded close enough but not quite right.

"So pretty!" said Hana, bending over to sniff a flower.

"We should catch a bird," said Silvio.

"Steal a bird from the God? I don't think he'd go for that. Besides, where would we put a parrot?"

"Good point."

Silvio looked ahead to the teahouse and began walking the path toward it. He figured the shrine was located inside it. Opening the door, he let Hana step inside and closed it after them. The inside of the teahouse was cooler than the outside, providing much needed relief from the greenhouse-like sanctum around them.

The teahouse wasn't very big. It was one room, a few square meters big and darkly lit. In the very center sat the shrine, nothing more than a single, unassuming box without fanfare but a few candles on top of it surrounding a mask.

Silvio leaned over to get a better look at it. It was very old and intimidating—where once it was brightly painted in red hues, the paint was flecking off now, leaving it a battered piece of junk. Maybe it was supposed to look like a human face, but its features were somehow off, featuring a gnarled grin carved from one end of the mask to the other.

And to the sides of the shrine were the chains Mica spoke of, old, rusted things that once restrained a God now reduced to scrap metal.

This was a place of sadness, Silvio thought. He wanted to get out as soon as possible.

"Let's lay the offerings down," he said, and he placed his branch on the box right next to the mask. He didn't pray or anything. He had no idea what to say. And he felt a very strong revulsion to the chains in the first place.

Hana looked unnerved as well as she set her branch down, stealing a glance over to the shackles, then averting her eyes.

"Ah… he loved these."

Silvio jumped at the new voice and wheeled around. Standing in the doorway was a man. He was hunched over a walking stick, but aside from the tired look in his eyes, he seemed too young to be using such a thing. With the stick click-clacking against the wooden floorboards, he joined them, picking up one of the branches.

"A long time ago, Rirasiru-sa traveled the world, bringing back things to Gesmaura we could only dream of. These were his favorites—cherry blossoms, but they don't grow here. Beautiful but unfortunate flowers that only bloom brilliantly for a short time before withering away. A bit like him." He shook his balding head. "Could you move aside? I need to light the candles."

The siblings obliged, and they watched him go about his work. The candles gave off a haunting glow, casting shadows against the walls.

"There aren't many Sorcerers who bring offerings to Rirasiru-sa," the man continued. Silvio glanced at his hand. There was no Sorcerer's Mark. That meant he was a Worker. "What brings you children to these parts today?"

"Um…" said Hana, but she trailed off.

"We're doing research on the God," said Silvio. "Did you know him, mister?"

"Yes, but it's been many years now." He stared sullenly into the flames, eyes sunken in their sockets. "I knew him when I was a young man, but I only saw his face once." He brushed a hand across the mask. "I can't remember how he looked; it's been so long. He hid his face from the world with this mask. It was the only thing he left behind when he exited this mortal plane."

"Sir?" asked Hana. "I looked through the scriptures of the Gods in Isaana-sa's library, but I couldn't find Rirasiru's. Can you tell me about him?"

"Of course. Over one hundred seventy years ago, the Minumna Mine collapsed. More than six hundred men were trapped inside with no way to get them out. Those on the outside began preparing for the worst. After all, there surely had to be scores of casualties. While the rescuers attempted to dig through the entrance, they say that suddenly they saw a brilliant light reach from the heavens, and he descended from them. As soon as his feet hit the ground, the stones blocking the entrance dissolved into dust and every miner was rescued. Not one of them died. He saved them all. That's how our God came to us."

"He could raise the dead, right?"

"That's not quite it."

Silvio—who had only been listening halfheartedly until now—suddenly tuned in at the assertion Isaana was wrong.

"It's more like he made it so they never died in the first place. Rirasiru could rewrite someone's entire story. Change their fate, and only the person who made the wish was any the wiser that something had happened. He brought our little town so much happiness, yet we treated him so badly."

"The chains, right?" asked Silvio.

The Worker gave a solemn nod. "He only used his powers to show how much joy living for others could bring. His dream was a happy world full of people not bound by self-interest, but love for their fellow man. But we ignored his teachings. Either that, or we twisted his words to fit our purposes. After all, why change any aspect of yourself when he'll grant you wishes anyway?"

Neither of them had any reply to that.

"Would you come with me? I'd like to show you something."

The twins looked at each other and came to a silent agreement. Both of them wanted out of that depressing shrine as soon as possible. They walked with the man back out to the sanctum onto a path twisting behind an outcropping of mountain stones. He stopped in the middle of it, lingering on the railing.

Silvio looked over.

Almost thirty meters below were scores of people sitting at long tables, weaving and making crafts. Craning his neck further, he made out the long, snaking marks running up their arms.

"Unforgivables?" he gasped.

"Our beloved God believed in redemption for all," said the man. "He wanted to open up his sanctuary doors to the outcasts, the battered and the bruised, the sick and the desperate. He also loved beautiful things. Unforgivables would be able to stay here and have a home as long as they worked and sold handcrafts. Of course, no one was willing to buy from an Unforgivable." He shook his head. "But the monastery needed money, of course, so back then we would have the Sorcerers sell them—and we pocketed every red cent for ourselves. We hardly fed the poor things. Rirasiru… we had him locked up, so he didn't have much of a say in the matter, but I think he knew. We would placate him with all sorts of pretty gifts that we'd buy with the money, but I think they disgusted him. That's the thing with him, though. He'd never complain."

"Why did you think that was acceptable?" Silvio seethed at every word he said.

The man squeezed the railing. "I didn't, but I never spoke up. I allowed him to suffer. Honestly, I think the reason is because we were all selfish. Ironic for the God of Selflessness, right? He brought prosperity to our town, and we couldn't lose him, no matter what. So when he tried to leave once, we sealed most of his powers away and chained him up. We regret it so much."

"A God would leave their patron city, though?" Hana tilted her head. "That doesn't make sense."

"Ah…" He paused. "The reason why he's called the God of Selflessness, it's because every wish comes with a… price. One that he would pay."

"What sort of price?"

"Mamoru, what are you telling these children?"

A woman, about the same age as the priest, stood at the other end of the balcony, arms crossed. She wore the same robes as him, her hair tied up in an austere bun, mostly gone grey by now but with a few wispy, ginger strands remaining.

"… Nothing, Rina," said Mamoru. There was a hint of anxiety in his voice, but he quickly swallowed it down. "I was merely teaching them the gospel of our Lord. These children are acolytes of Isaana come to learn about other Gods."

"Isaana-sa? That's rare. Please pass our regards to her High Priest and Priestess. I am the High Priestess of Rirasiru, Rina." She curtsied, exposing the Sorcerer's Mark on her hand.

"I was so swept up in talking, I forgot to introduce myself as well," said the man. "I'm Mamoru, the High Priest. Rirasiru-sa brought my great-great Grandfather back from the nation of Eyishu a long time ago, and my family has served him ever since." He clacked his walking stick against the stone path.

"Oh! Nice to meet you!" said Hana, offering them a bow. "We didn't realize you were…"

"It's fine. No one is to be treated any differently than anyone else in this Temple. Rina and I simply have more responsibilities, is all."

"We shall send you back with gifts to present to the Goddess of Balance. To offer our friendship, of course. Mamoru, I trust you will attend to our honored guests? Oh, and by the way…" Rina gave him a sharp glare. "Don't go telling sad stories to children." With one more solemn curtsy, she left.

Silvio almost gagged when he saw her back. Several lines of bright, red blood trailed down it, mingling with the sheer fabric of her robes so they stuck to her flesh in a horrific, bundled mess.

Hana brought her hand to her mouth and raised her staff.

"Don't bother with it," said Mamoru. "You mustn't heal her. Those wounds are her penitence."

"Penitence?" Hana choked.

"Have you ever heard of mortification?" He eyed the children, and when Silvio looked into them, he saw he was dead inside. "Rina offers her flesh to Rirasiru-sa to show the extent of her devotion to him, and how much she regrets locking him away. I too offer him my blood, but I haven't yet reopened my wounds today."

Silvio tried to steady his shaking hands. These people were terrifying. And Rirasiru… how could such a loving God demand human blood? He knew that followers of other Gods offered animal sacrifices, but the flesh of people? That was cult-like behavior if he ever heard it, and more suited to the God of Cruelty, whose worshipers were an unsavory bunch in the first place—not the Lord of Selflessness and Good Karma.

… That's right, he reminded himself. Even if they acted like humans, they weren't. Mortals couldn't understand the whims of the Gods.

But it was such a contrast to the happy villagers in the streets offering them candy. He couldn't wrap his head around it, and more than ever, he was glad that his Goddess wasn't a whackadoodle.

And then he imagined poor Mica, flaying that beautiful, milky-white skin of his to shreds. If he was nice to Unforgivables, then he must be truly devout to Rirasiru-sa, but Silvio didn't want to think of him injuring himself for a deity that probably wouldn't ever return to him.

"I know our ways may seem strange to outsiders," said Mamoru, "but there are many ways to express love to your God. Please do not think badly of Rirasiru-sa for it."

"Ah… uh… I wasn't," said Silvio.

"And there you have it." He stroked a budgie that landed on the railing. "The penalty for our great sin. He inflicted karmic justice by leaving. Ever since he left, Minumna's fallen into shambles, and when that awful Sorcerer got control of the mine… ah, sorry, I shouldn't talk that way to other Sorcerers."

"It's fine," said Silvio. "That Lord Superior guy isn't exactly getting a standing ovation from me, either."

Mamoru chuckled. "You're quite a character, young man. And you, young lady—shall I send you off with a copy of Rirasiru's writings?"

"I would like that very much, sir!" said Hana. "Thank you!"

"Of course. Spreading his word is the least I could do for him. Is there anything else you would like to see today?"

Silvio glanced nervously at Hana. He was feeling exhausted of the Temple's bizarre atmosphere, and she agreed with him.

"No thank you," she answered, "I think we're good."

Mamoru led them back to the tent so they could change into their uniforms. As Silvio dried off and pulled the blessed heavy fabric of his school suit over his head, he sighed. He had done quite enough today, but there was still the matter of going into the village. And, he pep-talked himself, Mica was there, and no matter how disturbed he was feeling, he wanted to see him more than anything.

Both High Priest and Priestess sent them off with a bow and a package for Isaana. Although he wanted to get away from the Temple as soon as possible, it was too cold outside to fly down the mountain with wet hair, so they took the gondola once more.

The atmosphere lifted as soon as they hit the ground, taking a short path back into the village. Hana flipped through the book of holy writings Mamoru gave her, but Silvio kept his eyes peeled for any sight of Mica. Now that he had free time to explore the village, he saw what Mamoru meant. The buildings were cute, but definitely decrepit shells of their former glory.

Catching not even a glimpse of red hair, Silvio decided to ask someone about his whereabouts. He stopped the first Worker he saw. "Excuse me," he asked, "have you seen Mica around?"

"Mica?" The man blinked. "You mean Mica Rebane? Does he owe your parents money or somethin'? Don't bother with collectin'; the lad's headed to the debtor's prison in a few days anyway."

"What?" Silvio gasped. Shock adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"Oh, that poor, stupid boy," said another Worker who overheard their conversation, "Mica—bless his heart—he tries so much, but he's a fool with money. Yet another victim of the Company Store."

An old lady wrung her hands. "Poor Mica?" she said. "Poor Tómi! What a wretched creature he is. First his wife left, and don't even get me started on what happened to little Miki... How could he continue on if he loses Mica as well? He'll have no family left."

"Listen, Lord Sorcerer," said the first man, "I wouldn't dwell on him. This happens all the time. Workers who can't pay their debts get shipped off and we never see 'em again. And that's that. It was only a matter of time before they got Mica, too."

"Do you know where he is?" asked Silvio, voice rising in alarm. "Is he still around?"

"Not sure." He scratched his beard. "But if he is, he's probably bein' made an example of in Town Square."

"Thank you!" he barked, and he broke out into a rapid sprint toward the center of the town, Hana trailing behind him. He looked around desperately toward the stocks and pillory, but didn't see him. Wheezing, he almost sunk to his knees. He was already gone…

"Your damsel's in distress over there," said Hana, pointing in the exact opposite direction.

And there the poor thing was, suspended by his wrists from a wooden pole, his feet dangling off the ground.

"Ah, good mornin', Silvio, Hana," he said to them cheerfully.

"Mica!" cried Silvio, "what happened? You're trussed up like a turkey!"

"The proper term is 'strappado', I believe," said the miner. "They're gettin' more creative with the public humiliation, I think. Yesterday they had me in the stocks, but I think they wanted to cause more pain so they spiced things up."

"What?" He balked at Mica's flippant reply. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"I'm in absolute agony," he affirmed, "but I'm stuck like this, so what's the use in complainin'?"

"Don't you realize you're going to prison?" Silvio was frustrated at Mica's seeming lack of concern.

"I know that," said Mica. "It was about five days ago, I believe? I was worried about tax season, so in a last-ditch effort to raise wages, I went on strike."

"And?"

"Nobody else wanted to strike with me, so I got arrested instead."

"Mica!" Silvio shook his head. "Don't you know how serious this is?"

"Hard labor here, hard labor there. There won't be much of a difference anyway. I'll do my time for ten years and then I'll come back."

"Debtor's prisons are bad places!" said Hana. "Before my Dad was police chief, he was stationed at one. You'll probably die there!"

"And what about your own dad?" asked Silvio. "He's injured, right? Who'll take care of him if you're gone? And even if you survive, he might not be around that long to see you!"

"Oh!" Mica squirmed in his bonds, the realization suddenly dawning on him. "You're right! I hadn't thought of that! I'm up a creek and a half, ain't I?" He laughed an unsteady laugh.

"C'mon, let's let you out of that," said Silvio, raising his staff.

"Wait! You can't!"

But it was too late. Silvio cast the spell and the ropes unraveled from Mica's wrists. He fell to the ground, standing back up on shaky legs and rubbing his wrists where the rope burned them.

"Silvio, why'd you do that?" Hana sputtered.

"You have to tie me back up this instant!" said Mica, looking around nervously. "If they find me loose, they'll do a lot worse than send me to prison!"

"Come on, Mica," said Silvio, "take us to the debt collector's office. I'm paying your balance."

"What? You can't…"

"Why not?" Silvio gave him a disapproving stare. "Embarrassed to be bailed out by a kid?"

"N-No!" He shook his head. "We Rebanes don't take handouts, ever!"

"And look how far that's gotten you!"

"Please, debt is somethin' for grown-ups to worry about!" Mica pressed his hands together, as if praying for Silvio to drop the issue and let him be. "It's not just the main balance. There's the interest, too, an' they seized my assets! They evicted us! Took everythin' from my Papa's shoes to the dogs!"

"Silvio, this is a really bad idea," said Hana.

"See?" Mica pointed a finger at her. "She speaks sense!"

"Your dad's homeless?"

"Oh, no, I made it worse!" said Mica.

"I don't care what you say. I'm helping you and that's that."

"Mom and Dad are gonna kill us!" hissed Hana through pursed lips.

"Do you think you can pay off a debt with pocket money?" asked Mica. "Seriously, I don't want or need your help!"

But Silvio wasn't having any of it. He strolled off in spite of the others' protests, searching for the debt collector as they followed, Mica still begging him to reconsider.

"Mica!" said a passerby as they walked down the street. "What are you doin', you silly child? Are you tryin' to make a break for it? Gonna be an outlaw? A life of crime ain't for you, boy!"

Mica crumpled into himself, as though to hide his shame from the world. Silvio didn't waver. He dutifully marched forward, razor-focused on his quest.

And so focused was he that he ran smack dab into someone, bouncing off his beer belly.

"Hey! Watch it!" shouted the man.

"You watch it!" retorted Silvio.

Mica went white as a ghost.

"Mica?" asked Hana. "Are you all right?"

"S-Silvio!" stuttered Mica. "That man, he's…!" He prostrated himself on the snow-flecked ground, shivering in fear.

The man shoved Silvio aside and barreled over to Mica, placing his boot over his neck. "How did you get out?" he snarled. He shifted his weight and pressed down. "Trying to escape without paying me my money?"

"Leave him alone!" snarled Silvio.

He turned his head toward him. "This boy is my property. And it's just a Worker. Why do you care so much?"

"Just a Worker? He doesn't belong to you!"

"Uh, yes he does." He smiled a wicked smile. "The mine, the village, and everyone in it belong to me. I'm the Lord Superior of the Minumna Mine. It's my right to send off Workers who collect debts and don't turn profits to prison. And this Worker is but a burden to me."

Silvio gritted his teeth. The Lord Superior was far crueler than Mica described. The way the man talked about Mica… no, all Workers as though they were livestock filled him with rage. And it's not like the man had much to brag about himself! He was fat and ugly, almost as ugly as his soul.

A wiser person would know not to escalate the conflict, but Silvio was just a child and a passionate one at that. Yanking him off of Mica, he puffed up his chest with all the bravado his small frame could muster and crossed his arms.

By now a crowd had gathered around them.

"Maybe if you didn't have that awful Company Store, you'd keep more employees, then!" said Silvio.

The Lord Superior narrowed his eyes. "Are you telling me how to run my business?"

"No." Silvio grinned. "I'm telling you you're terrible at it."

A long "ooooooooh!" came from the crowd.

"You little brat!" The Lord Superior leaned into him, clenching his jaw. "Let me tell you a little somethin' about this world, boy. Workers are expendable. They're nothing more than brutish, spiritually-impure idiots who are here to serve us. We Sorcerers are the ones chosen by the Gods to use magic. That means the Gods don't care about Workers, so why should we? What does it matter if you rip a few off to make some bucks?"

"They're not brutes! And they are loved by the Gods!"

"You mean that God they worship here? Clearly he didn't love them if he'd just up and abandon them."

Eyes blazing with fury, Silvio ripped off his glove and threw it at him.

"Don't insult Gods, and don't treat people like trash!"

At first the Lord Superior stood there in shock as he processed the situation, and then he laughed. He laughed a big, mighty bellow that echoed throughout the valley. "You're challenging me to a duel?" he guffawed.

"That's right! I hate your smug face!"

Tears of mirth trickled down the Lord Superior's face. "Ahaha! What a foolish boy you are! Normally I wouldn't waste my time fighting a child, but I think I'd like to teach you a lesson and show my Workers what happens when you doubt my authority. Fine then. Noon sharp. The summit of Minumna Peak. I can't wait to humiliate you." And with another mean smirk, he walked off.

As soon as he left, the tension cleared, leaving Silvio only with the realization of what a stupid thing he just did.

"Silvio, oh my Gods." Hana's eyes were as wide as a dinner plate. "What did you do?"

"I… I may have gotten ahead of myself."

"There's no way you can beat a grown-up!"

"You just use offensive magic, right?"

"Silvio!" She smacked a palm to her forehead. "We don't know any offensive magic!"

"Ohhh… ohhh dear." Mica was apoplectic. "Silvio, the Lord Superior is a Sorcerer strong beyond compare! He'll eat you for breakfast! Don't go up there. That guy is bad news!"

Silvio shook his head. "No. I have to. I know I'm going to lose, but if I chicken out then my words will be empty. I meant what I said and I'm gonna defend it!"

"Yeah, fight the power, little Sorcerer!" cheered someone in the crowd.

Mica sighed. "Pride cometh before a fall, little buddy. Fine. I'll take you up the mountain, but I ain't stickin' around long enough to take your battered body back down!"

The Workers surrounding them broke into a tizzy, discussing the duel in excited whispers. A few of them left the throng and started toward the mountains. Stretching his arms above his head, Mica followed them, beckoning the Sorcerer twins after him. They struggled to keep up with him, the miner obviously more acclimated to the steep terrain bridging the town to the mountains than they were. He stopped at the base of one of them, and Silvio looked up. Ahead of them awaited narrow bridges and rickety staircases leading up into a cloud of ominous fog.

Silvio's teeth chattered. How old were those paths, exactly? Now he understood what the priest meant when he said the trek to the hot springs was perilous. And this mountain was even taller than the one where the Temple was built, with no modern gondola to account for.

Mica hoisted himself onto an old, wooden ladder, half hanging off it as he addressed the children. "Now you two listen up!" he said. "The air up here is thin and the paths even more so. Stay right behind me. Don't even think of goin' off the trail. Ice will probably have frozen on the bridges, so hold onto the guardrails. Don't get ahead of me or drag too far behind. And…"

"It's okay, Mica," said Silvio, taking out his staff. "We're gonna fly."

The Worker shook his head. "I ain't kiddin' when I say the air is thin. If you faint and fall, there'll be nothin' to catch you. It's best to climb."

Silvio gulped, but Mica was already clambering up the ladder. He had no choice but to follow, even with his reservations on the path up.

"And one last thing," said Mica in a tone so low he had to crane forward to hear him, "keep your voices down."

"To prevent an avalanche?"

"Huh? No." Mica picked up a felled tree branch and used it as a walking stick. "Don't be so clichéd, Silvio. I mean, that's a possibility, but this place is sacred to us. Well, all the mountains are, but especially this one!"

"Why this one and not the Temple mountain?" asked Hana.

"Because this is the place of the dead."

A bitter wind blew past them as they ascended an ancient staircase.

"When someone died," said Mica, "we would take them up this mountain and offer their body to the buzzards in a final act of selflessness. We call it sky burial."

"Your God is so morbid!" said Silvio.

Hana cringed, but Mica didn't react.

"Rirasiru-sa is the God of Good Karma, too, y'know," he said. "It makes sense that death is just as important as life to us."

"I get that, but… don't you think your religion's requirements are a little harsh? What with the cutting yourself and everything…"

"Cutting yourself?" Mica stopped and turned around, giving him a pointed look. "What are you goin' on about?"

"We went to the Temple earlier. The priests there whip themselves!"

"Since when?" Mica's voice rose a bit. He clasped a hand over his mouth to keep quiet. "I didn't know they did that."

"It's true. The High Priest… he said something about… penitence?"

"The God doesn't like that at all! At least, I don't think he would…" Mica shook his head. "Those idiots! They still haven't listened to Rirasiru-sa at all, have they?"

Silvio didn't understand what he was talking about, but he at least derived comfort from the fact Mica wasn't hurting himself.

The comfort, of course, was short-lived.

"Wait! We're not gonna run into any dead bodies, are we?"

Mica laughed and tiptoed his way across a bridge with several boards missing. "The sky burials went out the way with the God and the Lord Superior takin' over Minumna. You've got nothin' to worry about… except for hikers who might've fallen to their deaths. Oh, I'm just kiddin' with ya!" he scolded at Silvio's pale expression.

But Silvio wasn't pale because of the talk of corpses. The high altitude was starting to get to him. He didn't want to seem weak, so he didn't take as deep a breath as he wanted to. If Mica and Hana found out that he was getting sick from the ascent, they would take him right back down and he'd have to withdraw from the duel. Silvio clutched his staff so hard his knuckles turned white, leaning on it for balance. His face broke out into a cold sweat. It was hard to keep going, but he had to persist.

"Why would the Lord Superior choose a holy place for a duel?" asked Hana. "Is it as an insult?"

"I don't doubt that," said Mica, "but it's more likely to give him an advantage. Us mountain folk don't get tired out as easily as those who aren't used to it."

They passed a survival cabin. Silvio wanted to stop and rest, but he knew he couldn't. Any admission of weakness was an automatic loss and a blow to his deep convictions. So he continued upward, struggling with leaden legs and taking rapid, frigid breaths through his ice-flecked nostrils.

Mica and Hana noticed his uncharacteristic silence. They both gave him a concerned glance, but since he didn't speak up, they continued. They must figure my nerves are getting to me, he thought in his fuzzy head.

Onwards…

They reached the summit, the narrow peak standing just a few meters above them. The three themselves stood on a small but flat stretch of land where several concrete altars were built, withstanding the test of time. Several miners were there already to watch the show, crowding around each other for room and warmth.

"And this is as much as I dare do for you," said Mica. "Good luck." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

The Lord Superior appeared not long after, drawing a line in the snow with his staff. "Where are you, boy?" he bellowed. "You didn't chicken out, did you? Let's make this quick!"

"… Not without me, I hope?"

With a loud crack, a golden portal opened up in midair, and Isaana emerged from it with her bow and quiver of arrows slung across her back, her coat billowing in the wind as she descended.

"Headmistress?" asked Hana. "What are you doing here?"

"Don't you remember what I said?" replied Isaana. "As the caretaker of all magic in this world, I proctor duels as well!" She landed next to the drawn line. Taking out one of her arrows, she flourished it like a conductor's baton and summoned a sheet of parchment.

Crowe arrived after her, his staff still glowing from the teleportation spell he cast. He started toward Isaana, but unable to resist, took the opportunity to lecture Silvio instead.

"Silvio!" he barked. "What have you gotten yourself into? Do you need to learn humility the hard way?"

"Enough of that, Ignatius!" said Isaana. "Come over here, do your job, and act as witness."

Crowe obeyed like a browbeaten dog.

"Will the combatants come forward?" asked Isaana. Silvio staggered over to her. The Lord Superior noticed this and smirked. "Before we begin, we have to sort out the terms of loss and victory. Let's start with you first…" she squinted at the Lord Superior. "… Little Clarence, is that you?"

The Lord Superior went red all over as the Workers snorted out a few assorted chuckles.

"How many years has it been since I taught you? So this is what you've done with your education? Oh… never mind. What are your terms if you win? What do you want?"

The Lord Superior regained his composure and smiled a snakelike smile. "Oh, Goddess, I'm plenty rich. I'm wanting for nothing but this arrogant boy's humiliation."

"Can he even ask for that…?" started Crowe, but Isaana scratched something onto the parchment with a pen.

"Done! And how about you, Boy Sabatka?"

Silvio drew in several deep breaths, trying to keep himself from collapsing. "… The debt. He has to pay all the Workers back the money he ripped them off from the Company Store!"

"That's a huge discrepancy there," said Isaana. She turned to the Lord Superior. "Clarence, because these terms are so uneven, I need your voiced consent: do you agree to this?"

"Sure." The Lord Superior yawned. "I'll beat him in an instant anyway."

"Alright then, it is settled. I need your signatures on this document. Be informed that this is a legally and spiritually binding contract from the God of Truth and Justice himself! Once you sign it, there's no backing out."

The Lord Superior signed it. Silvio hesitated, but gathering up every last bit of courage he had, he did the same…

Only to collapse right after into the cold snow, his vision spiraling into blackness, his body starved of oxygen.

"Silvio!" Crowe gasped and ran toward him, kneeling down. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I…"

"It's the altitude, isn't it?" He broke an icicle off one of the altars. "Here, rehydrate."

"I wouldn't do that," warned one of the miners, "multiple bodies have decomposed on that there slab."

Crowe balked and dropped it. "Uh… never mind. Silvio, you're in no condition to duel. You need off this mountain, asap!"

"He's already signed the contract," said Isaana. "He has to fight. You can't concede a duel after the paperwork's been taken care of."

"But…"

"Ignatius Crowe! Understand that I'm not rooting for either one of these idiots! I can't be biased toward any party, even if one's a child… and neither can you as the duel's witness. Do you get it?"

"I… I understand." Crowe hung his head.

"I loathe rules, but the Outer One, fan of irony as it is, has made it my duty to enforce them. Now, will the participants take their places?"

Silvio struggled to get up, but he couldn't. His body was weighed down with pain and exhaustion.

"Excuse me?" A small voice piped up. All eyes turned toward Hana. "I feel fine. If it's okay, could I fight in Silvio's place?"

Silvio wanted to object, but he couldn't. Exhaustion had no room for pride.

Isaana crossed her arms. "Hmm. That's new. But there's no rule against it, as long as the original parties give the go-ahead."

"It's fine," said the Lord Superior. "Fighting someone who's already down is no fun."

Say no…

That's all Silvio needed to do. He wanted to be the hero—no, he needed to be the hero. He had to save Mica. He had to get a Blessing.

… And he couldn't let Hana outshine him once more.

But against his wishes, he nodded. For everyone else's sake. He always acted for everyone else's sake. He never did anything for himself. If he kept this up, he'd never be an exceptional Sorcerer, one of the Blessed.

"It's settled then. Take your places."

The Lord Superior went to one side of the line, Hana to the other. They drew their staffs.

"Four spells!" Isaana held up that many fingers. "You may only use four spells to incapacitate your opponent and defend yourself. They are: spina clypeus, praesidio, cogitatio, and… hmm… venti vientus. Any attempt to use a spell other than those four will result in an automatic loss. Any other attempts at cheating will be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. Otherwise, the Sorcerer who falls to the ground first loses." Outstretching her hand, a golden barrier encased the battlefield. "I've altered the magical properties of everything inside this barrier so you can say the spell without needing the prayer first. I can hold it for about ten minutes, so make this quick. And with that, I, Isaana, Goddess of Balance, declare this match valid. Begin!"

The Lord Superior made the first move. "Venti vientus!" he bellowed, pointing his staff at Hana. A strong gale of wind erupted from it and hit her head on, sending her falling back toward the edge of the cliff.

"S-S-Spina clypeus!" she shrieked, and vines sprung forth from the ground and curled together into a wall of sorts, catching her right in the knick of time.

Silvio gasped. That man was about to kill her! He looked at Isaana, then at Crowe. Why weren't they doing anything? Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

"Spina clypeus!" said Hana once more, directing the vines to grow around her.

Was she creating a barrier? Smart move.

But another venti vientus severed the vines in one clean cut, leaving a shallow cut across Hana's chest as well. Blood soaked into her torn uniform.

"Venti vientus," said the Lord Superior again, but this time Hana was on to his game.

"Cogitatio!" The spell reflected back to him, but if Hana was fast, the Lord Superior was faster.

"Praesidio," he said, and an aura shield popped up, protecting him from the wind. He swung his staff about. "Is that all you have, little girl? Pathetic. Isaana-sa, did you lower your curriculum's standards?"

"Don't make me strike you down right now," answered the Goddess coolly.

"Venti vientus!" shouted Hana as he was preoccupied with his teasing. But something was different. Instead of sending him flying and cutting him, the wind only made him teeter a bit.

What the…? thought Silvio. Something wasn't right.

"Don't you see how horribly weak you are, child? And now you'll be taking the fall for your fool of a brother. Let's end this. Spina clypeus!" Vines sprang from the ground and wrapped around Hana, hoisting her into the air and binding her hands and feet, one ripping her staff away from her.

"This is what happens to those arrogant enough to defy me. Venti vientus! Venti vientus! Venti vientus!"

The Lord Superior gleefully inflicted several lacerations across her body, unperturbed by her screams and thrashing in her bonds. He didn't stop until she was bloody from head to toe, releasing her and letting her fall.

Hana caught her staff in midair.

"V-Venti vientus," she choked. The wind blew her back up into a standing position and she dug her staff into the snow as she landed, staggering, knees shaking in pain and exhaustion.

"How are you still standing?" The Lord Superior scowled. "Well, whatever. I have you cornered."

"Halt!" Isaana's command rang out loud and clear, and both combatants stopped, staring at her in shock. Isaana floated over to the Lord Superior and grabbed his arm, yanking up his sleeve to reveal a bracelet inlaid with several gems. "I thought so. Using clear quartz to enhance the power of your spells—you should be ashamed of yourself!" Isaana ripped it off him and unceremoniously tossed the bracelet over the side of the mountain. "Now then. You need to be penalized. Girl Sabatka, you're entitled to one free shot. You want to take it?"

Gritting her teeth, Hana looked up.

And shook her head.

What was she planning?

"Quartz or not, you're on your last legs," said the Lord Superior. "Venti vientus."

Silvio braced himself for her defeat, but…

Nothing happened. The Lord Superior looked down at his staff, perplexed, as did the rest of his crowd. "Venti vientus!" Not even a spark. "Why isn't it…?"

"You see, dear Clarence," said Isaana, "while clear quartz can artificially enhance the magical power of those who normally lack ability, it has the inconvenient caveat of draining magic from stones in large quantities. You would've learned that in school, but perhaps my curriculum's standards were too high for you, hmm?"

The Lord Superior blanched. "But if my ruby is out of power, then I can't…"

"Exactly." She flashed a wicked grin. "I chose spells with one gem in common each to prevent cheating."

With this, Hana launched her attack.

"Venti vientus!" With her staff pointed at the ground, Hana put all her power into her onslaught, using the force of the wind to jet herself at high speed into the Lord Superior.

Silvio's mouth gaped. He wasn't sure if he was impressed with her creativity or fearful for her safety. But that quickly gave way to pure terror. The Lord Superior reached into his coat and pulled out a dagger, pointing it at her.

"Hana!" he screamed. "He's got a knife!"

Hana had no way to stop herself. Putting her hands in front of her, she pushed him down, narrowly missing his blade by a millimeter. She crashed in the snow moments later, scraping herself up as she bounced across the ground before coming to a full stop.

The Lord Superior screamed.

"Match set!" cried Isaana. "The victor is Hana Sabatka!"

But neither twin had any chance to celebrate their triumph.

The Lord Superior was still screaming, screaming far more violently than he ought to be, writhing around on the ground. "It hurts!" he shrieked, convulsing about. "It hurts! It hurts! Oh, Gods, it hurts!" He doubled over in pain and vomited, every vein in his neck bulging with agony. "Kill me!" he begged. "Please, kill me! Just make it stop hurting!"

"Toughen up," said Crowe, "she hardly tapped you…"

"She's killing me! She did something to me!"

"I… I…" Hana looked like a deer in the headlights. "I didn't do anything, I promise!"

"I know, dear." Isaana hustled her aside. "Ignatius! Give him a checkup!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"I'll attend to your wounds, Girl Sabatka."

Silvio watched the scene unfold in muted silence. There was no way Hana could've hurt him like that… right? To do so would be a violation of the Laws of Impossibility… right? He was jerked back into the real world as a miner spoke up.

"What about our money?" he asked.

Others voiced their agreement.

"Money?" the Lord Superior choked.

"It was part of the agreement," said Isaana.

"I…" The Lord Superior burst into tears. "I don't have any money. I… bad business decision… lost it all… I… Company Store to recoup losses…"

The miners glared daggers at him.

Another gold portal, darker than Isaana's, suddenly opened up and a scroll popped out. The Goddess caught it and unraveled the document.

"Wow. That nerd God's on top of things. Zagiha-sa wrote: in the event the loser cannot fulfill his financial obligations, he will forgive the debt of the named beneficiaries, in this case the Workers of the Minumna Mine, and surrender all his physical assets to them."

"I can't…" His eyes went wide as saucers. "I can't give a bunch of Workers my mine!"

"Them's the breaks." Isaana shrugged. "Look, I don't care about your so-called 'natural hierarchy' of people or whatever. If Workers are going to control Gesmauran gem production, then so be it. It doesn't concern me, and if it bothers you so much, you shouldn't have agreed to the terms. Violating one of Zagiha's contracts results in instant death, you know."

"I don't want to… I don't want to die…"

"Then there you have it! See you in court!"

Isaana gave him a wave.

The workers erupted into cheers and applause. "Ding-dong, the dick is dead!" one cried.

"Let's buy those kids a pint!"

"Eh? Ya can't buy children that! Let's get 'em a cake instead!"

The miners went to pick up Silvio and parade him about, but it was too late. He was gone.

-

"How's he doing?" asked Isaana as the last of the crowd thinned out, standing over the shellshocked former Lord Superior.

"I don't get it," said Crowe. His examination finished, he stood back up, dusting the snow from his robe. "He's been given the marks of the Unforgivables. Did you…?"

"You know what my Divine Judgment does, Ignatius. I definitely didn't interfere." She bent down and picked up the dagger, flipping it around. "Ah, it's low to resort to attempted murder when things don't go your way, Clarence. But non-magical means of committing battery and murder are outside my jurisdiction."

The middle-aged Sorcerer sighed. "I know. I just don't understand it."

"You understand it perfectly," said Isaana. "Some other God cast Divine Judgment on him."

"What a horrid effect." Crowe shuddered. "Do you know who?"

She shook her head. "I don't know of anyone who can do something like this. But they did a real number on this fellow. I almost feel sorry for him, despite being an Unforgivable now." She adjusted her coat and leaned over the man. "Ignatius, go investigate. I'll take of him."

-

Silvio staggered down the mountain. Even the slightest change in elevation meant the world. He felt a bit better now, enough to approach a familiar redhead leaning against a boulder.

"Congrats," said Mica. "Why the long face?"

"You watched the whole thing anyway, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Hana suffered because of me."

"She did."

"I just wanted to help. I didn't mean…"

"Shh." Mica pulled him into a hug. "Silvio, don't try to save the world all by yourself. You're a kid. Take time to enjoy that, and don't get caught up in the problems of others."

"Everyone says that! But I want to be a hero. I want to help people. I want to help you! I didn't know that Sorcerers could be so awful to Workers… I…"

"One hero versus the world ain't very good odds. Our world is very complicated, Silvio. I'm glad you have such a sense of justice. It's my dream for everybody to be equal—Sorcerer, Worker, even Unforgivable. But I think the best thing to do is to try to influence your generation to change things. Be an example for others but don't bear the entire burden, y'know?"

"But…"

"Silvio, there is a folktale we have in my village." Mica loosened his grip and looked out to the world below. Minumna was just a little speck in the distance. "There once was a boy much like you who wanted to be a hero. He felt the pain and injustice in the world like you did. He traveled all over, tryin' to get Blessings from Gods, but each time he came up short. So he took drastic measures. An avatar of the Outer One sleeps deep in the center of the Earth. They say that each of its scales contains one of its powers. The boy traveled deep into the bowels of the Earth and stole one of the scales. When the Outer One found out, it was enraged. It cursed the boy so he would destroy everything he touched. Instead of being a hero, the boy could only destroy what he loved. It's believed he still lives somewhere out in the wild, isolated so he can't hurt anythin' else. Sometimes our good intentions lead to bad consequences if we don't think our actions through. Do you get it?"

Silvio nodded. "I get it."

"What are you talking about?"

Hana hobbled down the staircase to join them. Aside from a few shallow scars, she looked none the worse for wear.

"Hana!" cried Silvio, running up to her. "You're all better!"

"The cuts weren't that bad. Isaana-sa healed me."

"I'm sorry!" He hugged her. "If I had known he was gonna do that to you, I wouldn't have let you fight in my place! No… I shouldn't have challenged him to a duel at all! I promise I won't put you in a situation like that again! I should've thought… you're good at thinking things through… if only I were more like you…"

"Silvio." Hana smiled and shook her head. "I wanted to fight him, too."

"What?"

"He made me mad."

Silvio blinked. And then he laughed. He laughed a big, dumb laugh, tears streaming down his face. "Then you're as stupid as I am!"

He coughed.

"Ah!" Mica interjected. "It's cold and still high up. Let's get you back to the village."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Let's get your things back," said Silvio. "Where did they take your dogs?"

"They should be at the pound still. You… I guess I ain't in debt anymore, so I don't have to go to prison. Nobody will have to. I probably shouldn't say this since you did somethin' foolhardy on my behalf, but secretly it made me really happy when you stuck up for me." He scratched the nape of his neck and bowed. "You did a lot more for Minumna today than you could ever know. Now that that man's gone, we can go back to our traditional way of life."

Mica began his descent down the mountain. "And… this is selfish of me… but I didn't want to leave my Papa, either."

"He's your only family. It's understandable!"

"No. You don't get it. He's not even really my Papa."

"Huh?"

Mica gripped the guardrail. "My real name isn't Micaiah Rebane. I don't know what it is, or how old I am, nothin'. Years ago, Papa found me wanderin' alone in the woods without any memories. He took me in. See, Papa had a real son, but he died from an illness. Despite that, even after he died, Papa didn't kick me out. He never treated me any different from that boy. He's given me so much, but to think I still rely on him!"

Neither Silvio nor Hana knew what to say to this, and he even felt uncomfortable at this new information to an extent. He was unprepared to take such a deep look into the intimate, painful past of another person. But it made sense—Mica and Pops didn't look one bit alike.

"I'm sorry you don't know your real family…" said Hana.

Mica smiled. "Papa is my real family as far as I'm concerned. I don't really think about who my birth parents could be, and considerin' the circumstances I was found in, I probably don't want t' know the answer anyway. It's just that Papa's done so much for me, and I haven't been able to pay him back for any of it."

"Don't think that way!" Silvio scolded. "It doesn't matter where you came from. He's definitely your dad! Mica, you've got a problem!"

"Pardon me?"

He jabbed a finger in his chest. "You give other people so much, but you can't accept it when people give things to you! You treat kindness like some sort of business deal! I bet you were about to ask what we wanted in return for getting rid of that Clarence guy!"

"Silvio!" hissed Hana.

Mica sighed. "It's… true."

"Sometimes people do nice things just to be nice," Silvio lectured, "if your selflessness God tells you to be kind to others, then that also means you should be kind to yourself. Don't think that everyone wants something from you. Pops took you in by his choice. You never made any sort of contract with him. He chose you because he wanted you. Just the fact you care so much is enough, but that Company Store situation was beyond your control. You're not a bad son just because you made a mistake."

"You're right." Mica's breath came frosty in the mountain air. "I shouldn't think that way. Tell ya what—if you stop tryin' to do everything on your own, I'll stop beatin' myself up."

"Deal. Now let's get your things back."

"Done and done. But Silvio! You must still be weak from altitude sickness. Let me carry you down."

"W-What?" Silvio's cheeks went red. "Th-That's fine! I can make it down myself! I don't need… Stop it!"

But to be truthful with himself, he didn't really mind.

It was a good day.