Chapter 88: Tattoo

In the day when everything happened, Paul was doing his routine normally.

At that moment, he was going to school.

He never had been in something like a school back in the Wastelands, obviously. It was some kind of institution that based society as far as the other refuges told them.

One of those refuges offered a couple of people to help them to build a school in order to give proper knowledge to their kids and teens.

Of course, it wasn't for free. They wouldn't do it in exchange for nothing. That's another rule that their folk learned after so much time living with other survivors among them: everything that you asked from another refuge must be exchanged for something of the same value. That was the basic about interacting with them.

After many years trying to raise their own refuge, Amun's folk could absorb common sense quite rapidly. They weren't barbarians at all. The normal habits and laws of a person who lived in Old Saphyr were still there, but a lot has changed after the Crimson Apocalypse. Anyhow, they were too late compared to other refuges.

Anyway, since Paul didn't live enough to get the culture of his folk intrinsic in his personality and lifestyle, those changes weren't that much of a hassle for him, even though the adults seemed quite bothered by that.

He was even liking all that thing about school and apprenticeship. He liked it because he was very good at studying. The teachers always praised him. They said that Paul might be some kind of genius. It helped to feed the ego of that kid who was going to become a teen soon or later.

"You surely are spirited to get to school, right?" A voice was heard beside him while he was walking with a happy face on the dirt streets of Refuge Amun.

"Yes! It is quite fun to be good at something after being scolded so much when we were finishing our trip in the Wastelands!"

"Fufufu, that's just because you were an incompetent boy in the eyes of the adults, but you actually are pretty intelligent, Paul." The woman that was walking beside him patted his head tenderly.

She was somewhat proud of Paul. He wasn't his son, and she was not the only person who took care of him because of the absence of his father. Even so, she felt like a mother when beside him.

While crossing the streets, Paul was seeing other kids walking with their parents. It was the usual sight of a morning in Refuge Amun since that was the time when they would be going to study.

The darkness of that dimly lit refuge made it difficult to distinguish their figures in the extended night of Saphyr, but Paul could still spot them as if doing it on purpose.

The woman noticed it and knew exactly what he was going to ask.

"Hey, aunt. How does my father look like?"

For some reason, Paul seemed always more interested in his father than in his mother.

"He was... too powerful for this small folk, my dear. He was our best fighter. He used "Willpower" as nobody could ever do among us. Even the Ascendants of the other refuges can't be compared to how great he was."

The boy pouted, kicking a rock in the dirt street.

"Why did he just left?"

"Because... Because of adult reasons, my dear. Things that nobody on our folk wanted to understand, so he needed to continue his journey alone."

Dean always received the same response every time he asked about it, and it made him angry. However, he was a good boy, and very shy. He would never have the courage to show such negative feelings to his dear aunt.

"May I ask you something in return, Paul?"

That was the first time that his aunt wanted to do such a thing, so it got the boy off guard.

He stuttered for a moment, but let her ask what she wanted with a slow nod.

"Why do you not ask about your own mother as much as you do about your father?" She was afraid that Paul's answer could get her angry or then disturbed, but she wanted to know.

"Because... I can't remember the face of my mom. Not even my father's, to be honest. But, at least, I have the image of all his body. I don't know when it happened, but he was turning his back to me and walking. It's a memory of a few seconds, only, but I can see a lot of details. I don't have such memories about my mother, though."

The woman didn't know that Paul could remember his father. He never told her something like this before!

'This timid boy... Aargh! Even though I take care of him, he doesn't give any openings to get more intimate!'

She sighed, shaking her head. She was kind of disappointed.

"Ok. Then, what is the thing that you most remember about him?"

Paul thought a little bit as if recollecting that image again.

A bulked man, with wide shoulders, and a straight posture. He gave the vibe of someone strong, with a great amount of power and confidence. However, there was something sad in the atmosphere as well.

Paul could see everything, except up his neck. His head couldn't be seen as if it was a cut image.

The man slowly turned his back to Paul, starting to walk with slow but steady steps.

However, for sure, the thing that most drew attention to that image was...

"This!" Paul raised his right arm, showing the tattoo of a dragon that covered all of it, nearly reaching the shoulder.

"I don't know why, but this tattoo seems to be... special, somehow. But just in my dad's arm, not mine's."

The woman glared at him, trying to discover if he was lying or not. Nonetheless, he didn't seem to be bluffing.

"Is that so...?" She gave a meaningful look to the tattoo.

"Well... he never was someone to left without giving you a gift before, so it makes sense."