Fendra City.
It is not one of Blumend’s biggest domains, but the place proves to be economically self-sufficient as Sofalia observes the various Adventurers bringing business to the City.
Among the many lands the Blumend Kingdom rules over, Fendra is definitely among the unique ones as instead of a noble ruling the City, they have a mayor instead.
There only has been a couple of days since their last contact with the Guild. Van asks her to relax for some time, take a breather, and think of the coming week as a vacation. Of course, her entire week will not be entirely unproductive as she has a checklist to accomplish.
From buying more proper and elegant clothes, preparing correspondence to the capital, and also writing the Order’s Title Contract in great detail— Sofalia makes sure to not forget a single task in her checklist.
“Hmmm… This is really a vacation…” She smiles as she finalizes the Order’s Title Contract by the third day of the vacation. Now, she can truly relax.
Eating a piece of cake from a famous bakery, she enjoys the sweetness playing on her tongue. For a moment, she starts forgetting her problems.
The hardships of reaching White Peaks. Confronting her old mentor. Being dragged by the damnable Warrior, and… even her unwillingly accepting the advice of her raising an army. All of these problems seem to not concern her anymore.
“Sigh…” She licks the cream on her lips and fingers while her thought wanders about Van. “Why is he so emotionless?” Most often times, she thinks of Van as a person who knows how to express emotion.
Yet.
In their adventure, Sofalia comes to realize that there is a lack of emotion in him. His façade is masterfully performed to the point a trained eye cannot discern the difference.
Sofalia is certain, for she has been one. As she grows up after Arkruff’s betrayal, she becomes a more closed and defended person. She keeps her emotions to her own, and in their place, are the perfunctory response she learns from watching others.
The Warrior, Van the Third, is similar to her but not exactly the same.
If she is to define her actions back then, the right word to describe it as being Fake. It is the result of her immaturity forcing her growth, which is understandable as it serves as her self-defense coping mechanism.
But what about then Van? Sofalia is unsure, but she thinks Artificial perfectly describes him. But then again, how? Artificial and Fake are not exactly synonymous. They are both imitations, but the former is talking more about a Construct, while the latter is about Falsehood.
Returning to the Inn of the Adventurer’s Guild, Sofalia heads straight to her room and lies on the soft bed. She is still wearing the same gown she bought some days ago. She has plenty of clothes now while inferior to most of her clothes in the capital, it still maintains her dignity as a royalty.
No longer is the fur plate in her skin. She glances at the various militaristic dress on the open cabinet to her right. It is Van’s requirement to her to be presentable during the recruitment.
Sofalia doesn’t know how Van will conduct the recruitment, maybe because she didn’t ask, or maybe, he doesn’t just want to tell her. The truth is she cannot really tell what the Warrior is thinking.
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With a thought, she falls into a slumber… and deep inside her soul… she connects with a different Existence…
***
In phantasmagoria of ice, a silhouette of a gigantic silver-gray wolf lies atop a mountain of ice, with its belly flat on the ground. Blizzard continues to rage over in his territory… He is Fenrir, the God Slaying Wolf.
With a single breath, he calms down the blizzard, and welcoming his visitor with a smile, he addresses his contractor. “Sofalia Din Blumend… This is the second time we are meeting…”
The smile the wolf thinks is amiable is actually a terrifying sight. Even Sofalia who has seen much of the wolf finds the sharp gleaming teeth showing from his smile as disturbing.
“These meeting opportunities are rare. Out of the three chances, you now only have two. If you get stronger, I may allow you to meet me more often.” Fenrir addresses her with his same hoarse voice since the two first establishes their contract.
“I won’t waste my time. Since I have become stronger, I should be able to talk to you much longer than the first meeting.” Sofalia quickly cuts to the chase.
Fenrir nods, and with a gesture of his paw, he summons a throne of ice for Sofalia to sit on.
Sofalia sits elegantly on the throne, the cold never bothering her as her resistance to this element is immensely high. “I am in the company of a person who calls himself Van the Third…”
“I summoned you then in the White Peaks so you must have seen him.” She inquires with no change in her emotion. But contrary to her lack of reaction, this burning question continues to burn in the realms of her imagination with curiosity. “What do you think of him?”
“I don’t know.” The wolf, Fenrir, quickly answers only deepening the mystery surrounding the Warrior. “Since you were easily suppressed that day, I have been thinking about him since then…”
The frown coming from a wolf is a strange sight, but like other humans, Fenrir can as easily express emotions as them “I have wild guesses, assumptions, and doubts… It continues into a loop as finally… I reach one conclusion.”
“I don’t know.” The once sly wolf who prides himself on the knowledge and wisdom that comes with his age is in a mire of confusion. “To you, this is my advice, however, you are free to think otherwise … Treat him as an existence at least equivalent to a Demi-God.”
“Is he a Demi-God?” Sofalia frowns finding the idea absurd.
“I cannot… tell,” Fenrir answers with half doubt and half-guess. “For all we know, he might be a Dragon. Or maybe even a descended avatar of a God. As I said… I do not know…”
Sofalia adds, her thoughts are in turmoil. “He claims to know several Legacy Pathways… And he is not one to lie. It is not as absurd as being a Demi-God, but what do you think?”
Fenrir shows a knowing look. “If he claims as such, then he must be very old. To accumulate such valuable knowledge about the legacy of the world means he at least comes from a long-living race.”
“I doubt that,” Sofalia shakes her head. “Only a few of the demi-human races possess long life, and I remember all of their characteristics. He is definitely not from a long-living race…”
The wolf and girl continue their discussion with regard to the Warrior.
Their exchange of dialogues is full of theories behind the Warrior’s identity. Whether he is a Dragon, Blood Progenitor, or what else… They arrive at no satisfactory answer.
Sofalia is starting to think she is just wasting her time.
“No, you are not…” But Fenrir disagrees. “It is a matter of your survival, young one. Moreover, you can learn from him. A crisis is as good as an opportunity as long as you get into the right perspective… Since your training with him, your Value of Existence has increased since then…”
Sofalia can only nod in approval of the wolf’s comment as he is not wrong either. She can feel it in her bones. Her strength’s increasing, and so is her confidence. She doesn’t know about this Value of Existence, but she is getting stronger.
As a parting gift, Fenrir leaves Sofalia with a shard of his own consciousness which in their next meeting, he will also learn what Sofalia sees. “This shard of my consciousness can also be transformed into your familiar or can be used to reinforce yourself. Use it wisely. Get stronger, young Sofalia, so that the next time we meet, we can talk longer.
Sofalia’s vision turns black, and receding from the ginormous consciousness of Fenrir is her own. Opening her eyes to a familiar ceiling, Sofalia quickly gathers her bearings.
The Visit to Fenrir is disappointing, but not entirely useless as she is able to learn much more valuable knowledge about the era of myth before even the First Lore gets recorded.
“Hmmm… If I treat him like a Demi-God, then doesn’t that mean I have to make him… a shrine…?” Strange thoughts come and go in her head, pondering on her conversation with Fenrir.