32 Trust and Mistrust

Obrecht, Vera, Krael and I head to the Circ after Obrecht's battle. Having won the last battle on his second periodicals, Obrecht placed first on the test rankings of the advanced class, much to the pride and boasting of Vera, who acted as if she was celebrating the achievements of someone in the family.

Perhaps it's a thing with single child households? Obrecht is the only born child between Halvalt and Odeti, whereas Vera is the only daughter of the widowed Amos. I suppose they thrive on the feeling of having a sibling, even though the other person is from a different set of mothers and fathers.

A wild pang reverberates in my chest at the thought of Tukare. Like a bolt of lightning, it was gone just as fast as it had arrived, but the product of its arrival still echoed somewhere within; numbing me after that electrifying flash of pain.

Arriving at the lowest floor of the canyon where the blue light barely illuminated, we stroll around to eye the few shops selling various goods like food, utensils, furnishes, armors, weapons, parchment, ink and more.

"Let's try here", Obrecht says as he glances at the name of the shop before leading us to enter inside, as if he has done it a thousand times before.

The Circ is slightly more crowded today, with twice the throng of usual people, all of which converted into dancing blue scribbles within the bounds of my pitch black perspective. I walk over but halt to give way for a group of friends chatting together, to pass by first. A person bumps my shoulder while I patiently wait. A strong shoulder enters my line of sight, and I look up to see who it was.

Eyes squinting, Raguk continues to stare me down. His gaze reminds of the prickling sensation that one of the members of Batrani used to give me during the trial. My vigilance heightens as I sift through my memory of when I could have possibly personally offended him. When I come up with nothing, I simply move a step backwards and look to the ground like a conditioned reflex to new people. But though I don't look at him, one of the products of my continuous body tempering was the 360 view around me without even looking. Sometimes I feel like one of Mother's prototype radar machines. I can see him towering over my small stature, which to my disappointment, didn't evolve as much with my progress in the battle arts.

"…Sor—", I try to apologize albeit he was the one who bump me first, as I was just standing there, but Raguk snorts at me.

"Don't bother", Raguk interrupts. He looks as if he was leaving but thought to say something after scanning around to see that I was alone. "Just so you know, I don't trust you."

The disdainful tone of his voice reaches my ears, painting a frown on my lips.

"The others might be blind for easily accepting an outsider like you, but I'm not. Better to keep your acting in check lest you slip up, little Wraith, and when you do, I'll be there watch you fall", he threatens.

"…"

Getting no reaction from me, he seemed to increasingly be ticked off. Answering or not answering his provocation, I simply do not know which is the right thing to do. Fortunately, he leaves and I am gratified that not answering was the right option after all.

I watch the blue outline of his figure disappear in a mass of dancing blue wisps. A silent buzzing noise slowly builds up and I hear nothing but quiet static despite the clamorous crowd of ongoers.

Ah, it's so noisy. I want to cover my ears.

I thought the Lumeans were different. In the end, they were human too. They laugh, they cry, they grow suspicious of those different to them too. They doubt and they lie.

Maybe I shouldn't shave really woken up. There is no one alive waiting for me anymore. I should have remained sleeping until—

"There you are." Obrecht's relieved voice brings me back to myself, and the noiselessness recedes.

I drop the hands that were about to cover the holes at either side of my head.

That's right. There's still him who trusts me.

"Something the matter?" Obrecht's eyebrows wrinkle in a worried manner.

I shake my head and walk beside him into the weapon's shop. A sense of warmth invades me. Trust might be so simple to others, but to me, it is priceless. To have spent a period of my life where I can't even trust the sun to rise and illuminate the cold dungeons every morning, nor trust that there will be food provided daily if we did a good job, feels as if everything looks pointless.

Ask and it is simply given? No, complete trust is never like that. To smile and expect that a person will never hurt you, despite pointing a knife at your heart. Despite the odds and the facts, and all the people saying otherwise, you believe in that person, even if the that person doesn't believe in themselves either.

So even when things look austere, a hankering of not wanting to disappoint the person who trusts me emerges, especially when that person isn't part of my family, but attaches importance and reliance in me anyways. The weight of that trust grounds me, and I feel as if I able to walk forward—move on, one step at a time.

"How about we choose a good design for you too, Vid? It's never too bad to see what kind of weapon you're most compatible with. I can design one for you too, just like Vera's."

"Won't you be busy making Vera's? Won't it be any trouble?"

Obrecht smiles kindly, and my heart quivers. Lately, he acted less and less like a child, which wasn't that assuring for my heart.

"I'll be fine~" He takes my hand and pulls me to a row of weapons cased on cabinets, like they were so valuable—far more valuable than the food, accessories or any the market and shops that I've seen so far.

"How about this one?" He tugs my hand and points to a curved sword with the other. Without my approval, he takes the sword by the hilt and I panic with a wooden face. Obrecht gives a low laugh. "Don't worry, these are all standard designs that the swordsmiths in the shop create for the customers to freely study. It's not as valuable as the custom made ones."

"…" But it doesn't mean that it isn't expensive on its own, does it?

Turning my head away, Obrecht laughs again as if he had heard the retort in my brain. Unconsciously, I smile behind the mask, infected by his cheerful spirit.