23RD

I'm glad about the part where I was still able to sleep for a few hours despite my mind being out of control with the things that happened last night. But I hoped that upon opening my eyes, I'd wake up in my bed at the Barrier where it'd be all just a dream. It wasn't. I only passed out on the floor next to the man's bed.

I run my hand over my face, feeling Alek's ring scraping over my cheek before rising to sit on the edge. Through the windows, there's the cold daylight. But I'm sure it's still early judging by the early birds chirping upon the nearby trees. The lamp on the stand next to the bed has run out of fuel and the things that were used to clean my wound are gone — rather replaced by a tray with a covered bowl, a tiny loaf of freshly-baked bread and cheese on the side, and two wooden cups of water. I slide from my seat toward it to know what's in the bowl. It's soup. His soup. It's still warm and steaming, which tells that it hadn't been long since he brought it here.

I rise and make my way to the door to peek my head out. My lion-boar is not here as well. I assume she also went with him wherever he is at the moment. I stumble back to the bed, only to see a pair of crutches leaning against the foam with my loose shorts hanging on them. He's still taking care of me. Last night didn't go well between us and I spent a long while feeling guilty about it. Now, I don't even know how I will ever approach him. Especially when still I owe him an unrepayable debt. But, now, I also owe him an apology.

The sketch then comes to my attention, right next to the pillow. I may have placed it there before I passed out. Now, it's strange. He knew I had it all this time, and until now, he hasn't taken it back. What's with him really? And how am I even supposed to know who the person in the sketch really is? I still find it too ridiculous that it'd be me. But I can't help but now stick to the assumption that I am indeed the person in the picture because of what he said. I thought you'd figure it all out by yourself since you had the sketch all this time. 

My hand suddenly finds its way to my belly. It's churning with hunger. Yet, how can I even touch this meal without remembering how I put him on the spot last night? Part of me says, just eat it, he brought it here anyway, so what else should happen to it? Yet, I don't want to look like I'm taking it for granted. Fine. I'll talk to him.

I waste no more seconds having second thoughts and begin consuming the meal. I let the soup cool a little further before I begin sipping it like water. I don't even let the bread and cheese slip, but I'm taking it slow since I still have a freshly stitched wound down my abdomen. I'm like a rascal who hasn't had his hunt for days. I didn't consume much last night anyway.

As soon as I finish, I make sure there aren't any crumbs or any other kind of mess around and gather the dishes on the tray. This isn't my place, so it's a bare minimum to keep it neat and clean. After that, I grab my loose shorts and slip them on, so go the supple boots that I remember placing behind the foot of the bed, then take only one of the crutches. I also don't forget the sketch and tuck it back in my pocket, and of course, the cloak I also used as a blanket—his cloak. Upon putting it on, the same foreign scent runs into my olfactory. His scent. It's still latched into it.

Once I'm completely geared, I carry the tray with one arm and proceed my way outside. The air has a morning dew smell, coming fresh from the slowly melting snow on the grass poking out from the snow. There's already sunlight piercing through the thinner veil of clouds, which entails uncertainty about the weather in the following hours. It might hail again later.

Now, where do I find him? I stop my trails upon arriving at the path's end where it meets the adjacent one, currently busy commoners in their typical routines. I'm still too unfamiliar with the directions of the settlement. I don't even remember how he took me here. I haven't explored much since I've only been here a few days most of it was being in bed, unconscious. If I had a stronger sense of smell like him, it would be easy to find him, just as how easily he managed to find me then.

I rather leave the trust to my brain and simply let it guide me as I return to walking. Through the high trees, I can see the early Ravenbirds swooping around along with their related animal companions. While some of those beneath the sprawling branches are busy training their young ones to do their first flap.

My treading leads me to a training site, where I witness what the obvious is done — fighters training to be fighters. There's a huge fence blocking from entering. But it doesn't deprive me of the view beyond it. From the shooting ranges to the sparring pits, everything looks more promising than those at the training facilities at the Barrier, and I can't help but feel a little upset about how restrained I am by my current state to engage in any related activity.

"You seem lost," A man's voice catches my attention, sharp with an accent. I direct my attention in the opposing direction where I see him just approaching with two small pouches dangling on either side of his waist and a big lumpy sack on his back filled with fruits. An Elf with dark-brown hair, a little more bright-skinned than I am, and a little taller as well. His hands and wrists are dry with smudged soil that seems to have infused his skin there.

"I am," I admit, giving a wry smile.

He then narrows his light-hazel gaze as if he's, first, confused as to why he encounters someone lost in a secluded settlement but then amused as if he's somehow familiar with me. "Aren't you the one Ordinal Twenty-First brought here a few days ago?" Yes, he is indeed familiar with me.

I nod. "Awkward way to introduce myself."

"Well, not really," He says. "It just happens that a lot of people, mostly kids, are excited to always see the legionnaire every time he arrives here."

"Every kid in the world is always excited to see a Legionnaire," I add, to which he chuckles. "Harvest seems rich today. "

"Yes," He nods proudly. "Almost every day is. But you can blame it on the fact that we're always careful what to plant during seasons, thanks to Chief Cassandra." I remember meeting her last night. He then reaches for a piece of apple from his sack to offer. "It's freshly picked."

I humbly deny it and show him the tray that I still have in my arm. "Just had breakfast."

"Right," He says, coyly, and holds the fruit to himself. Then asks, "So where do you intend to go?"

I take a deep breath and am about to answer, 'I'm looking for someone.' But then I realize that the people here aren't even familiar with him as well. Or even of his name. Of course. His name that I never asked of after all the things we went through together — after he saved my life so many times. Now, come to think of it, I couldn't be more of a jerk. I may have been too focused on surviving the Ordinals' hunt of me while finding a way to get to my mother, as well as the concern with my friends, and dealing with Alek's death. But I can't consider that as an excuse. Again, we've been together for the whole journey.

"About to return these," I answer instead, referring to the tray.

He giggles at me. "You don't bring them there. The cafeteria workers go around and collect them."

I didn't even know about that. Now, I look ridiculous. "I was just left with them when I woke up."

"Well, you're far off where you should be heading," He says, then points his thumb over his shoulder. "This direction is to the farms." And then points his index finger behind me. "That's the direction to the cafeterias."

I gaze down, internally hitting myself for trusting my own brain in the first place.

"If you want, I can take you there," He offers and reaches a hand to take the tray.

"I'm not sure that's convenient for you, especially with all the stuff you're carrying," I say.

"It's much more inconvenient in your case with your condition," He counters. "And besides, I'm going to drop these there anyway."

I have nothing else to argue with that. So all I can do is accept the offer. "Sure." Then hand the tray.

"Great." He beams. "Come on."

I follow behind him. This time, I make sure to familiarize myself with the paths so I don't get lost again next time. I also keep my gaze parsing every face I see, just in case, I'd see the man. So far, nothing. Where could he be?

"So, what's the Legionnaire's relation to you?" He asks, pertaining to Finnobair.

Then I remember Eleanor mentioning the Ordinal's relationship with me the other night. "Godfather. Second Godfather, to be exact."

He looks half-convinced hearing that. But what other reasons can he think of? All he can say is, "Didn't know people can have more than one Godfather?"

"A lot of people do. And if any, it's the closest an Ordinal can have to a family," I reply unironically.

"Fair point," He shrugs. "And who's your other Godfather?"

Now how do I even put it to answer that? "Well… he worked at the Barrier as a Front Soldier."

"So he's retired?"

"Yeah. A month ago. He first made sure that I got into the division before doing so." It stings to even lie about it. But it'd hurt more to even tell the truth like cutting myself with a knife.

"How about your father?" At the moment, I thought he was done with his questions. I guess I can't blame him. Being related to an Ordinal elicits a lot of questions.

"Didn't get to meet him," I only say, gaze dropped. This makes it awkward for him which also immediately guilts me. But he immediately gets his redemption with another question.

"Well, what's it like? Being a soldier at the Barrier?"

"Sophisticated," I answer, even though in reality, I only got to be one for a brief moment. "The training in the academy was the fun part. But the reality, not so much."

"That bad, huh?"

I take that immediately answered his question about these bandages around me. And even though it's not the actual cause, I only leave it uncorrected. "Yeah."

"That's what most people say."

"Why?" I ask. "You want to be one?"

"Wanted," He corrects.

"Why'd you stop?"

"Well, being the eldest out of three siblings can really hinder your choices," He answers. "Not that I'm complaining. Being a Sentry would've been nice, but I know my family needed me more."

"What about your parents?" I add.

He gives me a brief look, then sighs. "My father passed away a few years ago. And as for my mother… She's gone as well."

"I'm sorry about that," I say.

"Oh, she's not dead," He chortles. "She disappeared a week after she birthed my youngest sibling. A few months after that, that's when my father died after contracting a disease."

I'm speechless.

"Now, I'm sorry about that." The sudden oversharing makes him awkwardly scratch his head. "And, it's even rude of me that I didn't even formally introduce myself." He then stops to face me, then reaches for his available hand for a shake. "I'm Mar."

I don't want to keep the awkwardness persisting so I genuinely oblige to shake his hand. "Kyvin."

We then arrive at the so-called cafeterias that look like an open market with so many stalls with their own designated food. Some are even still cooking and serving ale at this hour's meal. Or perhaps, they're already preparing for lunch. I gaze at the people walking around, hoping that I'd see the man here. But, no. He must be somewhere else in the settlement.

The farmer elf gets the opportunity to have the tray removed from his hold upon encountering a decked rolling cart full of used dishes maneuvered by a satyr passing by us. Then continue through the market. Not for long, we arrive at an area of neighboring barns that are rather storages for all the various crops obtained. I keep my tracks tailing behind him as we enter one barn. There, he finally gets to ease his hunching back, dropping the sack on the hay-covered ground, then carrying it with both hands towards a stall it designates. He appears to be an inch taller than I am, now.

"So," He begins again hands resting on his waist. "Do you have other places to be? If not, then maybe, I can tour you around further around," He offers.

That suddenly bothers me as I plan to go back to meet Eleanor to ask her more about my father. I didn't even get to specifically know which Ordinal he was before storming out of the council's lair. Perhaps, as Eleanor confirmed, the rest of the Ordinals always considered him a threat, thus he was one of those who were never recognized by history. Still, how did he even become such a being in the first place? But at the moment, I don't feel like denying the offer from this person before me.

"Sure," I say, which obtains a wide beam from him.

"Great! This way."

When we're only reaching the first block of the huts ahead, the sky suddenly flashes bright blue, and then comes the delayed sound of thunder ending in a fading rumble. But it's clear that it's not of lightning, but of the Wyrbird's return with whom I've been anticipating. I stop in my tracks once my sight captures the creature's figure behind the towering trees making its descent at some part of the settlement. My chest suddenly churns.

"Come on," I hear Mar from behind, tone implying he's read my mind. "I'll take you there."

I can't help but force myself to rush on the path I follow the elf on. But he both keeps up and doesn't leave me behind. My leg wound is less painful thanks to the man's treatment last night. Maybe he'd be there, too. The Wyrbird's appearance is obviously seen throughout the whole settlement, and that should sign him.

We arrive at an open field of depleting snow, and there's the Wyrbird that brought me here. Just unmounting that creature is Ordinal Twenty-First and the person whom I've been waiting to see. At first glance, I almost don't recognize her due to the braided brunette hair that I'm rather used to seeing dangling low and the combination of garments she wears, worn with pairs of armguards, shoulder plates, and tassets. She neither looks like a front soldier nor a wall sentry at the barrier — not even a citadel vanguard or any other kind of soldier in the world. Just my mother in that wearing, with a huge sling bag over her shoulder. My eyes are so focused on taking in her semblance that I haven't noticed the number of people coming to greet her, including Eleanor. It's been a year since the last time I saw her, and the sight of her in a different outfit is a little astounding, almost making me not know her as the woman who raised me in a secluded farm village.

She manages a smile through her tired facade upon greeting the elf-lady, then soon disappears upon making eye contact with me. She freezes as if lightning has struck her. But it doesn't prevent her from saying my name which I'm able to hear through the forming crowd from this vicinity. Most of the people's attention is rather on the Ordinal, so she's able to make her way to me. Yet while doing so, her steps hold so much weight as if she isn't expecting me to be awake already and greet her upon arrival. But she can't turn her back now. A meter away, she stops, eyes full of a combination of anxiety and yearning, Even her lips are shaking, or rather struggling to find words.

"Hi, Mom," I say first.

"Hi, Kyvin," She greets back, voice sounding disdained. "How are your wounds?" A mother's instincts always have upon her child's situation, even though she's so restrained from approaching to embrace me.

"Treated," I say.

She falls silent again, not knowing where to begin next when she knows why we're all here at this very moment. But then, Eleanor comes behind her, and so does the Ordinal.

"It'll be much more convenient if we have this somewhere private," She says.

I then turn to Mar who's just behind me. "Thank you for accompanying me. Perhaps we can continue that tour you offered next time."

A genuine smile floats on his lips, then nods. "I'll see you."

I return the gesture.

The tension in the atmosphere remains on the way back to the order's lair. Still, it doesn't falter the remaining questions I need answers to. Right now, I can't waste another second waiting. I trail behind them, my mother not even giving me a second to look at me, not even in the eyes. Perhaps, the shame that I've been sensing since her arrival is weighing too much on those motherly shoulders of hers. And now, I don't know how I can be mad considering that she wasn't mostly aware of this scheme, as they mentioned. But, also, I don't know how I can even be not mad. I'm able to climb up the stairs without difficulty and need assistance. My mother even approaches, but I genuinely deny it.

I now sit on the same seat I had last night, in the same room of the council's lair. There, she sits opposing me, having her armor plates removed beforehand, while Eleanor stands behind her, and Ordinal Twenty-One is rather next to the door. It's just us four here, and even with my mother, I feel a little out of place. I guess I got used to having the man around me.

I keep my gaze on my hands resting on the table, one of my fingers fiddling with Alek's ring around my annulary while I still sense the pure struggle of my mother to find her words. Neither of us can't even look at one another.

I begin, "About last night—"

"It's only exceptional for you to have that reaction," The elf-lady cuts me off. "It's already predicted."

I only nod visibly. I then want to ask about the man's whereabouts, not until a knock comes at the door. The Ordinal answers it and reveals my friends. There's Grace, and behind her is Kyla carrying an elongated object wrapped in clothing. I can already sense what it is just by feeling the same aura it gave me back at the cave where I retrieved it.

Kyla, a little exhausted over carrying the object all the way here, settles the weapon in the middle of the table and unwraps the clothing. Grace then greets my mother who both hadn't seen one another since our last visit, and so does Kyla before they both take seats next to me. Looks like they both woke up early, despite Grace seemingly having not enough rest from her trip.

I trace my mother's gaze upon the sword. A gaze that carries recognition over its former wielder and it makes her take a deep breath before finally being able to speak but still barely giving me a direct gaze.

"I know that all of this wasn't easy for you to endure, especially having to go through so much, including against the Ordinals, especially Three."

You can thank the man for that. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here.

"And Alek…" Her voice falters saying his name. "None of us, not even me, anticipated his life to be a part of the cost." Her lips are quivering now. "But I want you to know that I never wanted any of this to happen in the first place," She adds, now staring genuinely into my eyes. "Nor did your father." Same thing as what Eleanor said last night. "We both wanted you to have a normal life in the first place—"

"I've heard all of that, Mom," I cut in, then swallow prominently. "You know what I want to know." She's silent, digging up the right words.

"Then we should take him there now, instead," The Ordinal suggests. "If he really wants to know, then, that's the only way." There? Where's there? And what is there?

I gaze back at my mother who has a hesitant look on her face as if there's something she doesn't want me to see. "Okay," She agrees. "It should make up for the words I can't find to explain it all to you."

We return just outside the council's lair. The way Ordinal Twenty-One is preparing his Wyrbird once again for another flight seems like I'll be taken to another distant place. But if it means that I'll finally be able to know everything, so be it.

The airborne creature lowers itself to the ground to have me easily mount its back considering my wounds, which once again makes me sit behind the Ordinal. He has the Immortal Armament in a scabbard over his back. My mother makes herself situated behind me holding my single crutch and her sling bag, securing me in between them. I look at Grace and Kyla, giving shares looks of concern. I nod at them, signing that I'll be back before giving a quick parse around, then ahead of the path leading to the settlement. He's still not here. Where could he be? If only he could come along… All I have of him is his robe and the sketch in my pocket.

Finally, the winged creature makes a low snarl before charging to make an immediate ascend skyward. I don't have any other thoughts in my head but the anticipation of what is about to happen next that I don't get to see the moment that we have already warped to another place, the cold air of winter mountains suddenly shifting into a warm, tropical afternoon on my skin. There's the sun nearing the horizon. We might probably have just come to the other side of the world.

Ahead is a closing landmass, wrapped in vast greenery of forests. A flock of birds is flying toward it, which has my gaze trailing where they are headed. And it stops over something upon the landmass. But it's too tiny to even comprehend it from this elevation not until we begin descending. It's a cave. And not just an ordinary cave. Judging from the pillars of carved stones on its outskirts and the path it's connected to, it's rather a temple. I feel a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach that not even the strong wind brushing my skin can't calm it.

The Wyrbird makes a calm touch on the ground of the cave's outskirts, which now gives me a clearer vision of the environment. The immediate recognition it sends me before we even have landed causes me to be surprised, despite the fact that I have already seen this place before. In my dreams.