Ishmael was many things: Walker, Watcher. Wanderer.

What he wasn’t, though, was a meddler. He did not believe in leaving his mark upon the world, only in being marked by it – shaped by it.

So, he watched while he walked, wandering from place to place, recording the customs and cultures of the people he came in contact with. Their languages, their foods. The tales mothers told their children.

He compared the different systems of governance followed in different nations. He contrasted the lives of the common man and the lives of aristocrats. Of mages and mortals.

Yet, no matter how tragic the event he came across in his travels, or how morally compelling it was to right a perceived wrong, he always stayed his hand. After all, he was an observer; it wasn’t his place to interfere.

That is, until the day he met the boy.

The Duchess had just made her bid for power. The entire South-eastern Province was in turmoil. Flame and thunder exploded overhead as the mages battled and the mortals could only cower in the dubious safety of their homes.

Ishmael had unfortunately been passing through at just that time and had gotten caught up in the chaos that had ensued.

After the dust settled, he found that none were allowed to leave.

For the first time in decades, he found himself staying at a place for more than a few days.

He was there in the village inn when the uneasy villagers tried to fathom what the future had in store. He was there when one of the young men, barely more than a boy, suggested that they set the crops on fire so they wouldn't be supporting the enemy. He watched as the boy’s charisma swayed the audience.

A few days later, Ishmael watched the fields burn. Then he watched the village burn along with it.

He should have left then, moved on to his next destination. But he didn’t. He squatted by the charred ruins of the inn and started shifting the debris away.

When he finally managed to drag the boy out, he was hanging onto life by the flimsiest of threads.

Returning to consciousness at the point of death, the boy had coughed out a lungful of ash and fixed him with a glazed stare.

Ishmael had found himself reflected in those eyes – an old man with profound wrinkles, sparse hair as white as snow, and eyes the colour of cracked earth.

“Do you want to live?” Ishmael had asked.

“Y-es,” the boy had croaked out past a scorched throat.

Nodding, Ishmael had reached out and touched his forehead with a wrinkled finger.

After a short while, the boy stood and looked down at the lifeless corpse of the old man lying beside him, a complex expression on his face. Studying his hands, he found unblemished skin where there had been burns but a moment before.

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“So that’s why they call me the Walker,” he had muttered in a soft voice.

///

For the second time in less than a year, I stood with Father to greet refugees from the Shogunate occupied territory.

The first time, it had been the losers of the struggle for power with the Duchess. This time it was the rest of the citizens of Regiis.

Now that the main force of the Shogunate had successfully landed, they no longer needed the hostages. So, they were releasing them as a show of goodwill.

Not that we put much stock in that after having a chunk bitten out of us.

They seemed to know the principle that a beaten enemy must not be pushed too far. Rather than trying to vie for more territory, the Shogunate had launched a series of conciliatory measures aimed at reducing the hostility of the Continent. The release of the hostages was just one of them.

Other than that, they had forked out a huge amount of resources as war indemnity. The island nation of Nihon lived in a constant state of war with the Kaiju – monsters from the sea. While that made for an extremely risky environment, it also made for lots of monster corpses. Lots of extremely valuable monster corpses.

Now they were using these unique resources that were very scarce on the mainland to bribe us into silence.

As Ceres put it quite appropriately, “They’re buying Regiis, one piece at a time.”

We knew their wild ambition, but unfortunately, it was a transaction we could not reject. After all, the release of the hostages was a part of the deal.

And if the other nations of the Continent had any concerns about this new, aggressive neighbour, in the face of massive benefits promised by the Shogunate when they opened up trade, they weren’t airing them.

The refugees streamed in through the gates of Patera and were escorted to the temporary establishments set up to register them. From there they would be settled into makeshift apartment complexes built by our earth mages until appropriate arrangements could be made for them.

Phobos and mother-in-law had taken the lead in organizing the registration. I could feel that it was good for their state of mind seeing Patera, which had become a no man’s land after Ragyo Kirin had razed most of it to the ground, regain its liveliness again. Hopefully, it would help fill the void left by father-in-law’s absence.

Ceres was helping with the logistics while Father, Artemis and I were in charge of security and comforting the people with our presence. Having the Princess of the Empire and a General welcoming them back into Regiis was good for morale.

The aristocrats who had successfully fled in the first wave were also present, waiting anxiously to greet their family members.

Of course, this was only a small part of the refugee population. The majority were being sent out into the Southern and Eastern Provinces.

Spotting a few anxious faces in the crowd, I went up to talk to them, addressing their concerns and assuring them that their losses would be made up for as far as possible. With my passive soul sense, I could sense their grief and indignation at having to leave their homeland behind. It wasn't an easy choice to make and maybe they might never be able to return.

Indeed, many had chosen to remain behind and pledge allegiance to the Shogunate. I didn’t resent them. They had every right to turn their back on a nation that had failed to protect them in their time of need.

It just made me respect those who had chosen to give everything up and come to Regiis that much more.

Leaving the markedly less anxious family of four behind, I took everything in at a glance.

We’d be leaving soon too. Despite the disaster that was the Trial of Water, the Swayamvar would go on as scheduled. The Trial of Wind was set to start in a month and we would have to set off by tomorrow if we wanted to make it to the Caliphate in time. It’d be my last glance of Regiis in a while.

I just hoped that I’d be able to make it back in time for the birth of my younger sister.

Suddenly, my soul sense tingled.

Turning around, I found a young boy with eyes the colour of cracked earth staring at me from a distance. When our eyes met, he bowed politely and walked away.

I frowned. Strange. Unlike the rest of the refugees and despite his youth, his emotional state was unnaturally calm.

After a while, my brows stretched. Shaking my head, I dismissed it from my mind. After all, there was no fluctuation of mana around him… he wasn't a mage. And he wasn’t the only shell-shocked youngster around.

War had taken its toll on all of us.

///

The Walker decided to change his route. After a very long time something had caught his fancy.