Desert Children

"The peace of One is deadlier than the instability of Armies."

-Mezenian Mantra

©

The nip in the air chilled the desert-born to the bones, too late to regret on not listening to his aunt when warned of Sovenia's cold climate. But his pride won to prove the superiority of their race, now he wished he had swallowed it back when they were still in humid winds. He's been on the sea for 44 nights and he misses his warm home greatly; the Crystal Towers, the Volcanic Gardens, the Sand Rifts, and the bleeding of auroras had never felt more like home before.

A ball of golden fire hovers above his palm wisping his bare chest warm. Ocmenian clothes are helpless against Sovenia; a transparent gold-gilded, diamond-dusted silk vest soft on his torso and salamander leather trousers tight on his legs, that's it, no more.

Other Ocmenian sailors aboard pulled the traditional Banha Drums to sound their arrival, others knelt beneath a statue of Eldro- for giving them minimal storms on their voyage through Fonclere's oceans. He laughed to himself on how he isn't alone shivering as others were less clothed like him. As the saying goes: "Ocmenians wear more tattoos than clothes." And wherever they go, it has always been stubbornly true.

He observed everyone from the front deck of the "Laguna", a Steel-Clad Ship made entirely of swords and whips from those fallen for his family's cause, refined from the volcanic forges and moulded into a weapon clad turtle-ship. The Laguna had cruised on both water and lava, known as the blinding crown of Ocmenian naval fleet, though now it sails alone.

It was the throne's gift, named after him when he graduated from the College of Gwandoya six summers ago, now, he's the youngest diplomat on the whole continent.

He stepped on the ledge to welcome himself to the frozen country, where millions of his kin resides as war-ghosts.

He may be raised in Ocmenia but his grandmother is a Sovenian native with a youth spent in Dirge, so somehow, he don't feel too alienated. Maybe it's the Ice dome of the city that shines like the crystal towers back home, or how the snow here resembles the white sands of his childhood village.

As his attention strayed from the far coastline, his ears perked up, sensing low murmurs somewhere beneath the ship. When he peeked down the ship's bow he witnessed two boatsmen wrestling each other like little fishes too busy floundering and not aware of the ship on their way.

His lungs widened with his eyes, strong legs blurring quick through the gangway to alarm the shipcrew of what he had seen.

"Sanchia Mbanfa! Mil'ha Sovo-trongoa anaro'milhodo!"

(Captain Mbanfa! There are Sovenian boatsmen right ahead!)

He shouted across the boat's length to reach the captain by the rear. But it was too late, the side of the ship had already broke the small boat.

He took a sharp breath, sending the fireball from his palm down the steel floor where golden light enveloped his large body by the pathways of his tattoos, from his feet up to his curved horns. Feathers materialising from his back until wide brown wings emerged ready to take flight.

He flew up, not hesitating to dive down the cold waters and rescue the boatsmen. The surrounding waters splitting through his descent as if he's a deadly powershot released from a master archer's bow.

He can't carry two grown Sovenians alone so he first grabbed the larger man, quite surprised how a Sovenian could grow as tall as an Ocmenian like himself. When he noticed that an orange goo was sizzling from the Sovenian's back he shifted the method of carrying the him to avoid it, he knows what that particular goo is.

Dropping the heavy body down the steel floor of Laguna, his wings raised in shock from the man's appearance- he might have just rescued the god Adastrielle himself. He assessed the Sovenian, two glacier coloured eyes looking back at him like they were trying to communicate danger, his back still sizzling from the goo.

"Laguna! anaro'milho-ohdo Sova-hydeniye!"

(Laguna! th-there is a Hy-Hydenian Siren below!)

One of them pointed down the sea, he readied an arrow on his bow as shaky hands aim down the red-haired 'siren'.

Laguna ran to find the folklore creature mentioned, just when he thought he saw a replica of the God of Beauty a few seconds ago, the man below might even dethrone Adastrielle from the heavens. The red-haired boy reminiscent of the bleeding auroras that Syrosh had blessed on Ocmenia's midnight skies.

"Beware of its beauty... It might consume your soul with its kiss while drowning your body in the depths, the tales were clear." Another Soldier aimed her spear down the confused 'siren'.

"Help!?" Sion shouted politely from below while draped on the wreck of their boat, he had lost his covers from the impact and his face felt too numbed by the cold waters for him to notice. Ears still ringing as he stare at the hazy silhouette of the foreign Sailors above.

"Save us your trickery Siren!" Two more soldiers aimed at him.

"Sea God's Cock! I'm far from a Siren!" Sion yelled from below. His choice of cursing somehow added some truths to his claim, even land dwellers know that Fonclere doesn't have a cock.

"That's what they all say you scum!" Another archer pulled his bowstring further, ready to fire. Arms trembling not of fear but of foreshadowed regret.

"Then explain why there is a disgruntled boatsman here who seems paralyzed by Hyendian's Bane, were you planning to feast on his paralyzed body if we did not-" Laguna was cut off when a shaky hand gripped down his foot. It was the Sovenian he saved, trying to plead something.

"By the Gods! I'm an alchemist and that Ice-brained man paralyzed himself!" Sion protested once more. Laguna gave the Sovenian on his floor a confused look who is only nodding in slow struggle to agree with the "siren's" claim, the man must be so tough to even move some inch after receiving that much dose.

"Halt, that's a Sovenian citizen." Laguna announced to his soldiers, putting his wide wings between them to shove them away from the deck's ledge.

"Impossible!" One soldier denied yet still sheaths his weapon. The other horned warriors submitted to the strangeness as well, a rare sight that their young master would act this unreasonable but law is law, and his tongue is the government.

With pulled hesitation Laguna flew down the stunning creature, and the closer he approached the more vulnerable he became.

Sion was appalled as well, all his life he's used to seeing humans with snow skin and skin of soil brown, but the Creature above has skin of dark dusk with golden tattoos patterned all over his body. Squinting in investigation if those were actual ram horns curved on Laguna's head, wondering how much each would cost too.

"Do you have a name?"

"Sion Blackmercy." His voice shivered yet beautiful enough to add to the doubt that he was indeed a Siren.

"Oserio save us!" The horned creature's wings flinched as if a thick thunder had hit his spine. Sion reacted the same, he doesn't know why but he shouldn't have said his last name, he realized that his Mum may somehow be feared even outside Sovenia.

"Are you related to the Nightshade Heroine of the North?!"

'huh?' Sion thought.

"My mum is many things, but a heroine is not one of them..." he mumbled instead.

The Ocmenian grabbed him to be carried like a baby and the next thing he knew, he was soaring up to the sky with the wind biting through his frost tendered flesh. From the view above he saw that the large ship was indeed made out of weapons, a monstrous construct that moves with a mystery on how it floats on water.

When they land on the ship Sion beholds an entire crowd of eyes from black-skinned men and women, all clad in transparent apparel while clasping strange weapons of foreign designs, raised with their horns.

"Lord Oserio blessed us, my brothers and sisters!" Laguna shouted through the silent ship. "We are graced by the presence of the Nightshade Heroine's son!"

The whole crowd erupted into low magmatic murmurs, staring at Sion as if he's a statue of reverence.

"Did you really just call her 'Nightshade Heroine'? I'm so confused..."

"Typical Miriam, humble enough to even hide her heroic deeds from her own son!" An old rasp broke the cold winds, from a woman beside Sion, and with a snap of her finger, the Ocmenian warriors before them rushed around the boy. Sion offered his sore wrists to be cuffed and chained, but instead, tongues of gentle flames surrounded him, all coming from each warrior's palms.

Warm, cozy, and honestly welcoming. These beast-featured folks have unequal hospitality now tattooed on his head.

He analyzed the old woman who everyone took orders from, her head shaven clear and tattooed with floral lavender instead of golden patterns. Her beauty looked intelligent, if that makes sense.

"Huh?" he had to blink twice, the woman was white-skinned, hornless and blue-eyed unlike the rest of the ship's passengers. She almost looked... Sovenian.

"I'm Hildred Gazhafina, this is my Grandson, Laguna Gazhafina. We are envoys of diplomacy from Ocmenia." Hildred smiled warmly at him. Even with her wrinkles and creases, her eyes show timeless grace that might have already outlived eras.

"I believe you're Siontuna and that paralyzed child is Ian'drah?" Hildred gestured on the floor.

"Yes... though if I may ask, how did you know our names?"

"Grandmother can access mentalities and read minds." Laguna answered. Sion only noticed now but he had never heard a voice so deep that he thought he almost drowned again.

"Oh You mud-kid!"

Hildred hit her grandson by the shoulder. She first aimed at his head but he was just too tall for her.

"Don't listen to Laguna, I'm a mere pharmacist, nothing more." She humbly herself but her giant nephew raised his brow at this.

"I'm actually a colleague of your mother. Come, let me tend to you properly by my chambers, I'll tell all that you need to know." Hildred grabbed Sion by the arm then turned him to the crowd. A bright golden light enveloped Ian's body, lifting him from the floor as Laguna's hands glowed the same.

The crowd parted as they walked their way to the chamber, Sion chewed his lips to a near bleeding for he could feel their eyes on him. He's never been used to this much attention.

"If I may ask, again, what do you call your people?" Sion whispered to Hildred as they walk.

"Ah, you haven't seen Ocmenians before? It is illegal for Ocemnians to step foot in this snow country after all. These are the indomitable dessert children of the Gwandoya Continet, war-strengthened and friends of volcanoes."

"They're from Gwandoya?! That's too far! That's the literal other edge of the realm!"

"And look where we are!" Hildred shrieked in excitement, Sovenia was her homeland after all.

"You know, Miriam and I actually write to each other every two moons or so."

"Really? Then you must be 'Alzina Fida' who Mum always writes to since I was young?" Sion linked but he did not expect it when Hildred's eyes gloomed.

"She still writes to Alzeina Fida? Intriguing..." Hildred smiled down the floor. "I'm afraid you are mistaken dear, I am not Alzina Fida."

"Oh then perhaps you are the other one she sometimes writes to when in the loo? 'Bamba Prika'?" Sion asked, Laguna bursted into laughter from behind them when he heard the foul nickname, some other Ocmenians who overheard loudly gasped in shock.

"Ye-yes, that's what she calls me in Ocmenian Language." The old lady shyly admitted. Another wave of gasps followed.

"Im dalna Masvamia! hant osa adut 'Modiaja Gona' onto shals ja Bamba Prika!?" Laguna interjects in their native tongue.

(My dear Grandmother! Does the Great Nightshade Heroine really calls you Monstrous Vagina!?)

"Aldez! Jova zima Im uv'lagyo, osa Modiaja Gona shals ohk bamba prika ahm zikho khunma, ja laguna?"

(Silence! Yes it was my nickname, she calls me 'Monstrous Vagina' in our youth, you happy?)

"Jova, Laguna."

(Yup, Happy.)

They entered the Rear Deck compartment, his nostrils flared from the perfume from an unseen censer. Oddities met him through the lavander haze, butterflies and insects bottled in glass jars, lizards and snakes climbed in every corner and he wasn't sure if they were sculptures or not.

"My oh my, you grew up a fine man!" Hildred exclaimed as she sat Sion down on a velvet couch, handing him a towels and blankets that screams luxury.

"Not really, Ian'drah is a much finer man. All the maidens in dirge flock around him everyday." Sion said while wrapping his body with the blanket, his feet sinking on the lush carpet- ticklish, even.

"Oh I know a lot about Ian'drah. In fact, Miriam wrote of him several times. She tells how her son already got himself the youngest cunt-wetting sailor in all Dirge wrapped around his fingertips!" Even in Ian's paralyzed state, he managed to choke on air.

"Masvamia, shaltha'lok!"

(Grandmother, Language!)

"Ko Im shaltha, zima Miriam."

(Not my words, it was Miriam's)

"Oh we're not lovers, not really. He's just my friend, the only one. Not that Mum permits me to have any friends except him, it's just that they say foreigners are shunned upon in Dirge." Sion smiled knowingly, strange to the kindness of strangers.

"Oh I disagree! You need to expose yourself out there! I grew up in Dirge when I was a lass and I know that these wankers will love ya!" Hildred's Sovenian accent surfaced a little.

"Keep in mind that hiding beauty is a crime aginst the gods." Hildred warmed both of Sion's hands with her's, expecting complete atentiveness from the boy.

"Oh! Your hands are the smoothest thing I've ever touched in my whole life! Laguna my dear! Come quick and feel his hand!" Hildred excitedly offered Sion's hand to Laguna.

"Masvamia, I rescued him from the sea so I know how smooth his skin is." Laguna said, yet he still approached to hold the boy's hand. Old Hildred squirmed on her seat as she watch the two boys. It is her maiden fantasies materializing.

Ian managed to let out a muffled scream at the sight of the foreigner caressing Sion's hand, his rushing blood boiling noticeable upon his face.

"Oh! I might have a counter to that paralysis somewhere..." Hildred stood to search for her medicines. She doesn't have an idea why Ian'drah seems to be in pain even though it's just paralysis.

"Ahh, I smell remnants of Hydenian's Bane, must be from Sunset Moths? No that can not be right, is this something else?" Hildred speculates as he examines the Sailor.

"No, you're correct Ma'am. That is made out of Sunset Moths but processed in powdered form." Sion answered, reverting his gaze away from Laguna's sand-colored eyes.

"Oh you really are Miriam's son, she used to make liquid potions in powder that closes wounds upon contact! " Hildred smiles upon herself, recalling old memories while scanning the instruments inside a cabinet.

"You know, Miriam and I used to be in the Western Border War back in the good old days." She added.

"Among all the things you've said I find that the most believable so far." Sion chuckled, since his younger days he had always conspired that Miriam was a war-fiend due to her blood-thirsty nature.

"Oh how I remember! We both signed in with a few students from our college as battlemages and healers, we were both assigned as alchemical healers but she left me alone in the war hospice!" Her voice cracked in fury, or maybe because of old age.

"We were side by side tending on the injured and dying soldiers of Ocmenia, then the next thing I know, she escaped the hospice and was out there with raw alchemical ingredients, trashing the Zhoutanian frontlines with clever improvisions!" She acted out the scenes, Sion giggled as to how ite old woman is still overflowing with energy.

"I've studied that war before, our Nation and the Zhoutanians were fighting over the Abandoned Country of Bead after the Great Migration of the Latemese, both sides claiming that the vast land belongs to them." Says Laguna.

"And I do remember reading that the first clash was held on a field of Nightshade. Hence, Miriam gained her title as a war heroine after killing most enemies with that same flower." He continued.

"I don't know how she did it but from what I've heard back then, soldiers from both sides were amazed by her display of wits that some even decided to just sit down and watch!" Hildred laughed. "Curse them!" She slammed the table with her mortar. "they didn't even commend me for doing her job while she was out there whoring for fame. I was also fighting my battle in the war hospice!" Hildred said while crashing strange leaves down her mortar.

"But Grandmother, you were a heroine in the hospice yourself." Laguna interjects. "Lady Blackmercy might be out there demolishing the battlefield but Grandma was in that tent, keeping the future king of Ocmenia alive." He continued, Sion's mouth slightly gaped in disbelief and shock.

"Little did Grandmother know that crowned prince was slowly falling in love with his reviver." Sion's shoulders tensed from the revelation, he's in the presence of a royal family all along and he is only wearing drenched trouser? too much for first impressions.

"Aye enough about me! Let's talk more about my friend's dearest son." Hildred says, still busy crafting the paralysis antidote.

"Oh don't be interested in me, there's not much about me." Sion shyly states with his head down while fidgeting, it is the truth though, all his life he was instructed to hide himself from any social attachments aside from his mother, Ian'drah, and the slum-children.

After a few clouds of smoke emerging from her canister, Queen Hildred finally produced the counter vial. She nears the mixture on Ian's nostrils for a few seconds.

"Gasp! cough! cough!" air rushes in turbulently as he rises from the couch he was layed upon, his colors coming back like dried moss after rain.

"Now now, relax yourself dear and wait for your muscles to unknot itself... My, my! Such huge assets you have!" massaged Ian's muscled back.

*knock, knock*

Laguna opened the chamber door to let the Ship Captain in, "Danoha M'lhoka, zikho onto kini oza Dirgosovo sanching malai'tiva." The Captain announced.

(Warrior Queen, we have already reached the Dirgean shores.)

"You have our deepest gratitude Captain Mbanfa, we'll be out in a short while."

"Now my dear, keep in mind that your government only expects a diplomat in their midst. They don't know that the Ocmenian Queen herself is disguised in attendance." Hildred winked a wrinkled eye over Sion, her mischievous behaviour seems familiar to him. Now he knows why the Ocmenian Queen is a close friend of his mother, but he still doesn't know why the queen trusts him and Ian that blindly.