14TH

I trail behind the man like usual, relying on his knowledge of direction, not even breaking a second for my legs to get some rest. Not that I'm even close to being exhausted after almost an hour of ambling, at all. The closing horizon seems to end with a clear vision of the fairly clouded skies. It's only because we're approaching the end of the forest's treeline, greeting the descending hill. An open path enclosed with small shrubs and grass suggests a way leading to that of the distant municipality far ahead — settled in the plains of sparse trees. I hold on to my tracks to parse what the man had claimed earlier. I'll be damned. I then snap back when I hear the Lion-boar behind me groan. The man is already too far ahead, not even taking the time to wait.

On our way, we come upon signage, purposely leading in certain directions. It may seem ominous to find it in the middle of nowhere unless you came from a direction without seeing the settlement beforehand.

The sign says, 'Independent Municipality of Kardij.' That's pretty helpful. Despite that we're still within Otima's regional borders, it's safe to assume that no one in there would be familiar with me. It's only the Ordinals who are looking for me anyway, and my identity remains evidently undisclosed.

"Checkpoint ahead," I hear the man say and I see soldiers we're about to approach.

I then remove the sword from my shoulder's hold. Luckily, I have extra fabric I collected earlier, just enough to cover the exposed handle of the weapon within its scabbard. It's necessarily better to be safe than sorry.

"Welcome to Kardij!" A satyr soldier greets us welcomingly upon our turn to be examined. "Oh, apologies, sirs. But we cannot allow undomesticated creatures in."

"But she is domesticated," The rogue Wolf-breed explains with a hint of authority. "Besides, we're only here for trades and to take a flight trip to the west. We won't take long." The sudden emission of authority in his last statement intimidates the soldier and his comrades. I couldn't be more baffled.

"Very well," The soldier says. "But we must give you a fair warning that any trouble that will be caused by your companion will have you receive penalties."

"Copy that," I say.

"Enjoy your visit," The soldier says, and I'm the only one to nod appreciatively.

As we finally arrive, there are much more people than I anticipated, most are obvious travelers and passersby with different motives. The tall edifices of concrete and wood, most of which are of shops and trading stalls, welcome them.

As we continue further, I can't help but be a little anxious with the looks being shot at us, either because of the wild creature accompanying us or the stranger that I'm with. Or, maybe, because they're familiar with my face?

Sun's nearing its peak, yet I don't want to waste more time or be bothered by what they're assuming. The main concern here is getting to my mother as soon as possible.

"I'll get us some supplies," The man suggests and separates away, and I'm here alone with the beast who is again searching for food in my nonexistent pockets.

I trading forgery catches my eyes far ahead, then proceed toward it. "Can you do me a favor and stay here?" I ask as I turn to the beast who hasn't ceased to follow.

She gives me a look as her response, but she's static in position. I guess that's her 'yes'. Her innocent eyes are the last thing I see before entering the blinds the entry only has. My nose is taken aback by the stinging smell of burning coal and wood, and the place appears too dim in my vision, except for the prominent ashes and dust dancing in the atmosphere that is coming from the next room. My vision seems to have adjusted as I begin to see the glistening steeled weapons displayed upon the walls — their fine designs and clear durability are undeniably admirable. But that's not my agenda here.

I approach the wooden counter, a rusty-looking bell settled atop and a tiny, molded elf statue that seems new. Before my finger even touches the bell, an aggressive chattering of a man from the other room abrupts, clearly of annoyance with my presence.

The owner of the voice seems to have already emerged into the room with me, where I am at first confused as I do not see him.

I yelp when I feel a kick on my leg and I look down to see a tiny being.

"Down here, human," He says crankily.

A dwarf. I almost mutter. His orange hair and ivory-warm skin add more to the grumpy aura he's emitting, yet he only stands up to my thighs.

"What do you want?!" He shouts, and the smell of ale comes along.

"I'm here to trade," I say quickly, clearly intimidated by the creature.

"Trades?!" He snaps, slurring his words. "You travelers know nothing but to trade, trade, trade, blah, blah, and can't even afford to buy anything here!"

"Tronk!" I hear another man's voice from the room behind me. "Stop shouting at our client. Get over here and ignite some more coals."

Surprisingly, the dwarf obeys and proceeds to stagger back to the other room, continuing to shoot me his surly physiognomy. Then, a much taller, buff older-looking man comes in. An elf, rather, his forging garments smothered with ash and charcoal.

"Sorry 'bout that," He says, voice much calmer when called the dwarf. "That was my brother. What can I help you with?"

I block any sort of thought as a result of what I've just heard and simply answer, "Trade." I gently place Kyla's sword still in its cover and unveil it to him.

He hums. "You're from Otima?"

That did not sound like a question, at all. Yet I clarify, still. "Not technically."

"Yeah, I can tell it's not actually yours." He turns to grab some tools on the shelves behind him.

"It's from a friend," I make sure that my tone sounds honest and not suspicious.

"They'd surely be pained to know you're trading it away," That remark is something I can swallow. In this circumstance, I have to be resourceful in order to survive the following days, even though it'll leave me with nothing to fight with. I'm sure Kyla would understand.

I answer with silence.

"At least, you're honest," He adds, now holding a magnifying glass and a sharp, shiny object in his hands, then begins examining the weapon's blade with them, from tip to toe. It is quick, yet surely precise. He lifts his chin to me again. "It ain't no ordinary blade."

My gaze narrows. "What do you mean?"

"It's forged with an undefined rare metal," He adds. So Kyla must've had the time to tamper with her weapon then. It only makes sense since she works as a smith in her camp. However, where would she even get a rare metal to fuse it with it? "Very costly."

"How much can I get?" I ask and receive a disappointed sigh.

He then gives an unreadable look, giving the unwanted assumption of what he'll offer. "I'm afraid I don't have the Pentanides to suffice in exchange for a weapon as such."

"Why not?" The immediate disappointment is prominent in my voice.

"Tronk!" He calls.

I hear the dwarf make a remark of complaint from the other room, slurring still prominent, but still acknowledging it.

"The chest," My gaze narrows curiously once again. It takes just a second for the scowling redhead dwarf to bring forth the said chest of overwhelming size. It's bigger than the elf himself, crafted in silver and pure dark-tinted wood, yet even though wasted, he's managing to carry it and even place it properly upon the counter separating them and me.

The smith seamlessly unlocks the two shiny clips sealing the chest locked, exposing what's inside only to himself. And now what lies in front of me is a chunky pouch. The sound of clinking is enough for me to know what it is. He then gestures to me to find out what it actually is and I'm only ever more confused to see the glistening hexagon-shaped coins. Terratites.

"You're lucky to come to the right place," He says. "Most of the trading shops here would have you behind bars for it. But for me, business is business."

I'm only silent, then nod acknowledging the said business done before finally leaving. Terratites are global currency, unlike Pentanides which are the only currency of some settlements like this place, and Otima which is the neutral region. A single piece is worth enough to take the one-way trip to the West, and I can acquire more stuff with it for the three-day trip. It's rather more of a wealthy man's money. I still acknowledge the sense of guilt that I had to give Kyla's sword away. If there were any other choices available, I would've taken them. Only now, I have to keep the focus on departing soon.

Upon being under the sun again, a shot of worry elevates in me as I see my Lion-boar companion missing from her spot. I then hear screaming from the distance behind and I turn to see the aftermath of the mess she's already made on that stall of fruits and is still munching carelessly like the natural wildling she is.

I bolt in her direction only to meet her consistent liveliness and guise of unsatisfied appetite. The moment she sees me has her feet hopping and I'm under her, her tongue generously greasing my face, yet I rather find it unamusing. A wild creature doing it is just plain unusual.

"Look what that hideous thing did to my shop!" I hear from someone, an old man if I could comprehend, yet I can't even get a second to see where he is as I attempt to extricate myself. Once I'm on my feet again, the beast remains seated and begins pawing her ear innocently. I'm now looking at a grumpy middle-aged man. "It took me months to grow these and it all just went to that horrid beast's stomach!"

I start picking up the undamaged ones rushingly, having an apologetic face while saying sorry, repeatedly when this will give me penalties like the guard warned us upon entry.

"Oh, your apology won't get to pay all the months it took me to grow these!" He keeps ranting and ranting, but I'm here drawing three Terratites from the pouch. Fortunately, it silenced him — disbelieved, even. That's more than enough to even expand his rusty shop.

I ask for an apology one last time, not even waiting for it to be acknowledged as he's too bedazzled at the coins in his callusy palms. I don't need to beckon the beast as she's already on her feet next to me, sticking her snoot onto my shirt again for more food. I then turn my heel to find the man. He should only be near the other trading shops.

I've only been walking short when a tight grip yanks my wrist and I jolt. An old woman with a walking stick this time, one of her deer horns torn and dry with cracks. I'm looking into her gaze of pure emptiness — just all white with the cataract that has consumed her entire irises. It takes me seconds to realize she's been babbling incoherent words, far comprehensible by the basic language I know and speak. I attempt to pull away, yet she is as solid as a statue until I start to feel my blood flow complaining the harder I try.

Her voice somehow begins to increase in volume but is still as silent as a whisper and it's eliciting annoyance in my head. I'm trembling, my heart pounding fast as I further demand escape. A sudden surge of shock runs from her hand, crawling fast to my head. An image flashes in my peripheral. It was quick as lightning yet it was comprehensible enough to describe it. A mountain with a single cave on its foot, where a sword lies far within, reminds me of one of the dreams that I have forgotten upon waking.

A young man sets me free as he gently removes her grip from my wrist before I even know it. He is sincerely apologetic as he escorts the now-grinning old woman away. The innocence she now possesses on her face has me feeling uncomfortable. I don't understand what just happened.

I then look for my Lion-Boar companion, only to see her mauling the remaining mess she made earlier. In fact, she's being fed by the shopkeeper.

"Hey," That voice. The man. He's here. I turn to see his tall figure approaching me. "You good?" He asks, concern clear in his eyes.

"Yeah," I answer, trying to ignore what happened seconds ago

"Where's your sword?"

"Traded it for this," I answer, revealing to him the pouch full of high-value hexagon coins.

He gives me a look of dismay. That, along with his concern, is some real expression I've seen on his face for the first time.

"We obviously would need more resources for the trip," I justify. "Besides, I could be tracked with it too."

"They have your friend?"

That makes me regret saying the latter. It's too late now, though.

"Yeah," I only say. "Where are your things?" I see nothing left in his hold but his obviously empty baggage.

"Traded them too," He says, then showing just a few Silver Pentanide pennies in his palm. I suddenly feel pity that that's the only amount he got. There's no question that it ever also involved the Front Soldier suit that was full of scratches and holes I gave him. "Keep it. We'll buy new stuff." I suggest and I'm glad that he doesn't make any sort of decline.

We turn our soles while I look around to find the old woman again, now seated in the stall of the nearby building. The smile remains alive on her face as if nothing really happened. That vision. No, that dream. How come I never remembered it before? It's actually the dream that I've been having ever since. And it's not just that, but the other ones—the day I woke up in bed after the incident in the desert. After my fall from the citadel. And that night at Kyla's cabin. What do they all mean?

We're able to purchase all the things we require and head to a station all the way to the other side of the municipality. A bag full of fruits and some new clothes, including a robe I now wear, are some of what I bought, whereas the rogue gathered some things as well. A few are probably for his soup.

Noon arrives as we fall in the long line of passengers to fly to the West. Our tickets cost just one Terratite each to board a ship piloted by a hoard of Soaring Pandas instead of a Soaring Panda alone. Luckily, it includes a pass for the Lion-Boar. Perhaps we'll be keeping her longer than we are supposed to. Now she's peaceful in her sleep like a domestic feline next to me while I'm seated upon the fabric I bought. The man is only adjacent to me and shuts his eyes in an instant, placing a small folded towel over his face. He had no sleep last night and is probably more drained from our encounter with the outcasts earlier.

Our departure embarks smoothly — no Ordinal or anyone else on the hunt for me. This should be an uninterrupted trip. Now, my mind continues to dwell on those dreams—how I always wake up not remembering them. Thanks to that old woman. And now they're all something I can't ignore.