He betrayed me. I thought it was mere abandonment. That the only thing I need fear with him and Lune by my side were the spears of our low brought enemies. But no, from within my own circle, my own family did the betrayer come. And now he has doomed us all.
-From The Recently Deciphered Notes of King Arneshal, 10th Grouping
Emile walked on grass, through the streets of Nlaoja, eyeing those around him. Most of them barely gave him a glance, continuing on with their chores. It was such a serene scene, that Emile wondered if Isildan hadn’t taken them somewhere entirely different.
Emile thought he’d enjoy the view, taking a walk all around the premises. He reached the edge of the village and looked out to find a forest beside it. It was a lush looking thicket of trees, and from inside it called Emile’s name.
The deep dark trees seemed home to Emile, who spent most of his time huddled underneath bunches of leaves and hiding from the sight of those stronger than him. the villagers behind him unnerved him, with their carefree glances and tunes hummed with light breaths. Maybe what he needed to get over it was some time to himself?
Considering the action, he stepped out into the field, striding across the hills until the forest entrance came up to him. His eyes caught on immediately to the path in front of him, worn down after years of travel.
From the looks of the leaves, an organized party came through here earlier, he deduced from the shape of the prints and the order of them. He looked up and wondered, birds chirping and crunching leaves being the only sounds he could hear. Emile took a breath, stilling his heartbeat and closing his eyes. He focused for a moment, on the area surrounding him and the voices there within.
And in the middle of those dissonant sounds, he found it. The uniform hum of soldiers at a task. The lightest sound of stomping, and coordinated heaves. He stood up from the tracks near the entrance and entered the forest, tracing the sounds as he went in deeper and deeper.
When the trees grew thick and the sunlight started to taper off, Emile found them. A group of soldiers, wearing the Phasgorian red, standing in formation and running drills with their weapons. They stabbed forward with their spears, reset positions, then stabbed forward again.
Emile watched their training for a long while, keeping quiet and out of sight of their instructor. The instructor, a man who looked too strong to be left out this far from the war, boomed with a voice that silenced arguments.
“AGAIN!” he shouted at them, the men resetting their position for what seemed like the thousandth time. It seemed the practice was doing them no good, their movements only growing more sluggish and uneven with time.
“Maybe you should give them a break,” Emile offered to the instructor. The entire forest stopped, and Emile thought he’d gone deaf. The instructor turned around silently, eyes widening at the young man behind him. The tall lanky figure cloaked in dark greens seemed to terrify the soldier.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked Emile.
“A bit of time. Did you not notice?” Emile asked, a smile creeping onto the edges of his face.
“No…” the instructor admitted. “You’re one of the soldiers chief Treomish was expecting, aren’t you?” the instructor guessed. The soldiers behind him had lowered their spears, looking at Emile as if he were a ghost.
“Yup, that’s me. Though I’m a scout for Countess Noviselle, I’m not nearly as impressive as the others. They’re the ones with real power,” Emile explained. Surprisingly, the instructor shook his head.
“Not a single one of my men caught you sneaking through the forest. No ordinary scout should be able to bypass that many people,” the instructor told him. “How did you accomplish it?”
“Well, I’ve got some skill in the field, but…”
“You have to show us!” one of the soldiers spoke up. The others joined in the chorus, and Emile found himself unable to refuse. It seemed that there had been some use in coming after all…
****
Isildan created another portal, ripping it open in space in only a moment.
“You’re getting faster at those. Practice?” Noviselle asked, flashing him a smile.
“Much of it, yes. It is becoming… second nature,” Isil replied.
“Keep it up and they’ll take you away from my command!” Noviselle joked, but Isil didn’t laugh. He didn’t know why, but that didn’t sound right. He liked his position. He didn’t want to be positioned elsewhere, where he was far from Noviselle, Galeon and the others.
When Novi noticed his stern expression, her chuckle faded. She coughed into her glove, looking elsewhere. They stood atop a hill that overlooked the village, taking a full view of every side of it.
“They’re so unprotected it scares me,” Noviselle said, tapping her forearm.
“I could relocate them for you?” Isil offered.
“The entire village? By yourself?” Noviselle asked.
“…It would take a while, though,” he admitted. Noviselle regained a bit of her smile.
“It’s lovely of you to offer, Isil. But I think that it’s up to Marqu- I mean chief Treomish to decide if they’re going to upheave their whole lives.”
“If we showed them a real Ravenishtani Devourer, that would be enough to get them to move,” Isil said bluntly.
“We’re trying to keep them protected, not scare them away,” Noviselle countered. She tried to get a look at the village, moving around the hill and cupping her eyes to get a view. Isil watched her pace around for a moment, before looking to the skies.
He created a far away portal, the size of his hand, above the entire village. A similarly sized portal opened up near his hands, glowing green.
“Novi, here,” he told her, and she stopped to look behind herself. Isil floated the portal up and towards her face gently, so that she could look through. Noviselle could see the whole village from that angle, as if it were the most realistically drawn map in the world.
“This is beautiful, Isil… why don’t you do this more often?” Novi asked him.
“I’ve never needed to. Not for myself,” Isil replied. He looked away, as if he was a bit ashamed by what he’d said. Noviselle chuckled, turning her attention back to the map and noting key positions around the village.
“Where’s the river in all this? I don’t see it around?” Novi asked idly.
“Atreon told me that its further down from the hills, beyond the hills,” Isil told her. Noviselle sighed, noting only then how the sun was already setting.
“We’re going to need to hurry, then. I want to survey the region before the end of the day,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Had she any hallowmancy in her, maybe the pain in her legs wouldn’t feel as horrible.
But even though she’d gestured, Isil didn’t move.
“Isil? We need to go, we’re losing daylight,” Novi said.
“Chief Treomish said we were here to relax,” Isil pointed out. “I don’t think you’re relaxed at all, Novi.”
“We can relax tomorrow, can’t we? Now, we’ve got work to d-”
“Tomorrow, I will be helping Atreon with his hallowmancy. And you are?” Isildan asked.
Noviselle wouldn’t tell him, but she’d planned on asking the chief to request more troops. Whichever ones could be spared from the frontlines. But looking at Isil now, she felt the reasoning insufficient.
“I’d love to enjoy time with you, Isil, but… this is war, there’s no time for anything except it,” Noviselle told him. “If you’re too tired to help, I can go by myself. How far could the river really be?”
“Treomish speaks reason, Novi,” Isil told her. You think I don’t know that? Novi shot him a glare.
“But I know you’re not going to let that stop you. Which is why I’m coming along with you.”
“Thank you, Isil…” Novi sighed. Maybe the time would pass by quicker with him around.
Isil opened a portal, his eyes glowing an emerald green Novi found mesmerizing, and she stepped through the portal without even looking. She found herself back in Nlaoja, the little village looking the same as ever.
Maybe it was because of how small it was, but the buildings had already become common to their entire group. In the distance, Noviselle could even see Leane. The girl looked determined, her eyes set staring at something invisible to the rest of them. Her face was bright red, and sweat beaded on her brow.
What’s happening to her? Noviselle worried for a moment, before the reason presented itself. A meat pie slice whose entire top was covered in a red powder, laid itself before Leane’s large round eyes. Noviselle thought the woman saw death in the plate, but she still bit into the pie despite that fact. Noviselle would’ve interfered, but something else distracted her.
Isil finally crossed the portal himself, and closed it behind himself.
“Weren’t you supposed to take us around and towards the river?” Noviselle asked.
“I’m hungry; We’re going to be gone for a bit, so I’m going to bring some food,” Isil lied, so obviously Novi caught it in an instant. But she didn’t stop the man. Instead, she accompanied him around the village, filling a basket case with various fruits and tarts of their own before covering it all with a blanket.
Noviselle even tried to talk to Leane, but the woman seemed to not even notice them. Either she’d gone mad from the spice, or her tongue burnt so hot that words wouldn’t form. The most she gave was a nod of acknowledgement, before Novi and Isil were forced to leave.
Novi hoped that Galeon or someone else would stop her before she truly hurt herself, but even he was missing. She wondered where he was, especially since the man loved flying high in the skies. Yet they’d barely seen him since the morning. Seraphas keep that fool from hurting himself.
“We’re ready,” Isil announced after ducking down and checking the basket he’d piled with food. More than they could possibly need for a small trip. He stood back up, holding the basket in one hand while he opened a portal with the other. The green edged tear revealed itself, and he let Noviselle pass first.
He opened many more after that, until they stopped near a coincidentally scenic point in their path. It overlooked the mountains at the edge, and the setting sun shined down perfectly on the skies.
“Oh, I’m out of bewl,” Isil stated, barely keeping up the act. “I suppose we’ll just have to rest for a while before continuing.”
He took the covering over the basket and spread it across the grass. Isil made himself home on the covering, laying his head down on the ground and urging Noviselle to join him.
“Very smooth, Isil,” she muttered before sitting down. He flashed a smile, and brought out a bottle of wine from the basket. He poured two glasses for the both of them, and they drank as the sun set.
****
Maybe it was because she had never been outside the camp, but she was surprised by just how small the entire village had turned out to be. By midday, she’d seen just about everything there was to see in the tiny hamlet they were staying in.
It almost made her wish that she was flying with Galeon again. That was one thrill she’d found that she actually enjoyed. Walking around the village, nothing seemed to compare to the feeling of soaring through the skies.
So, she walked. And she found herself in front of a small forge. Heat emanated from the furnace, and there was a man hammering a sword beside it. He looked rough, muscles glistening with sweat and a cloth wrapped around his wild hair. He hammered down on the red hot metal, sparks flying from its edges as he ironed out the kinks. Something about the smell of metal got to her. How the clang of hammer on sword sounded in her head.
“What do you want, girl?” the smith asked, slamming the hammer back onto his weapon. Leane began to speak, but stopped herself before any words could form.
“Can it move?” she asked. The smith stopped, holding up the sword. He looked it up and down, then placed it back on his anvil.
“Shouldn’t as long as a Necromancer doesn’t get their grubby hands on it. And I won’t let those unhallowed monsters anywhere near my home,” the smith spat, plunging the sword into a barrel of water beside him. steam hissed from the surface, and the red glow faded from the weapon.
He pulled the weapon out of its bath, revealing a dark gleaming blade of metal.
“Why make these swords? Sir Treomish said no Ravenishtanis come around?” Leane asked.
“We can’t know that for sure, girl. Not when we’ve got hallowmancers to worry about. They could bring an army here under a day, and we’d be none the wiser,” the smith replied. He placed his blade onto a drying rack, then set to his other tasks.
“It seems a bit foolish to stay when war is on the horizon…” Leane spoke out loud, and the smith grunted.
“Maybe it is. But we ain’t leaving, and they won’t either!” the smith said.
“And you’re fine with that arrangement?”
“Shouldn’t you be off sightseeing? Awful inquisitive about metalwork, aren’t you?” the smith asked her. Leane huffed.
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“I’m just looking!”
“You’re the amnesiac girl, aren’t you? There’s an Afterburner what takes care of you, don’t he?”
“Galeon is busy. I wouldn’t want to interrupt him,” Leane replied.
“Then take your business elsewhere, girly. Best to keep out of mine, too,” the smith told her. He turned back to his weapons, and Leane left in a huff.
If he didn’t want the company, fine! She’d just take her business elsewhere. Leane took off down the street, or the approximation of it, until she caught a sweet and spicy scent. She followed her nose right towards a tall building, an inn that brimmed with the smell of food.
While Leane found it intoxicating, she could see several patrons rushing out of the inn holding their eyes and coughing. What kind of grenade are they making in there? At one point, an entire squadron of soldiers came rushing out, and Leane thought they were hoisting up Emile on their shoulders as they dragged him out.
Leane found herself curious, and entered through the wooden door to a well-furnished, if cramped, dining room. Empty tables were set up all across the room, and the innkeeper seemed to be nowhere in sight. The smell was the strongest here, so much so that even Leane’s eyes began to water.
“It’s just a bit of powder, folks!” someone shouted from the back. A portly woman came out rubbing red hands between a cloth, and looking surprised to see the room so empty. Leane could feel the tension in the air, so she waved at her.
“Hello,” she said, and the woman began to raise a hand, but pulled it back down sharply.
“Where have the rest of them gone! None of them paid for so much as a bite!” she shouted, her face beginning to contort into an angry visage.
“It smells amazing in here! What are you cooking?” Leane asked, trying to grab the woman’s attention. The innkeeper’s face softened, and she coughed before continuing.
“Oh, Ventorious protect us, it is toxic in here, isn’t it?” she laughed a bit before bursting a window open. Fresh air entered the room, and the thick stench of spices left the room. Leane took a seat near the main table, on a stool just big enough for her while the innkeeper opened more windows around the room.
“Was trying out a new recipe. I didn’t think the peppers would fly out so abruptly. Apologies for that, girly. What can I do you for?” she asked Leane.
“Was it a success?” Leane asked. The innkeeper smiled.
“Beyond a success! I’m just disappointed no one’s around to try the molten pie.”
“I’ll take a cut,” Leane offered with a smile. After all, how spicy could it really be?
“Are you sure, girly? Not to be rude, but you don’t look like you could handle anything hotter than a glass of cow’s milk,” the innkeeper told her.
“Please? I can handle the spice just fine!”
The innkeeper shrugged. “I suppose as long as it doesn’t kill you….”
Leane chuckled, but the innkeeper didn’t seem to keep the good humour.
“This is no place to eat, though. Go outside, I’ll setup a table for you,” the innkeeper told her, shooing Leane away.
She left the inn, waiting outside until the woman brought out a table for her. She held it so easily in one hand, while the other had a stool in it. Leane was impressed with her strength as she sat down the table and went back inside. Leane poised herself on the stool, mouth watering in anticipation at the meal. The smells that had come from the kitchen, she’d never had something that intense before!
The innkeeper came out with a plate in one hand, holding a pie that looked like it was glowing in the sunlight. She was beginning to regret her decision a bit, but looking at the innkeeper’s smile, Leane couldn’t refuse.
“You want anything to drink with that?” the innkeeper asked.
“No, thank you!” Leane said a bit too fast. Why! Why did you do that!?
“Are you sure?” the innkeeper repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Please, I’m fine! I won’t ask anything else of you!”
The old woman seemed satisfied, leaving Leane outside and slamming shut the door behind her.
“Except a better mouth to speak with…” Leane groaned, the meal in front of her looking terrifying. It steamed in the cold weather, challenging her to take a bite.
Cautiously, Leane raised the pie with one hand, pointed it towards herself, and took a quick small bite.
She didn’t feel anything at first, tasting only the savoury flavour of the meat and sauce. But then it hit her all at once. A sharp hotness flooded her mouth, burning through her tongue and cheeks, before it finally went down her gullet. Leane sat with shaking hands, her eyes refusing to focus on the horror in front of her.
All the way down to her stomach, she felt the pie burn a hole. With just a single bite, her body started to sweat, and she felt as though she was going to die. And there was so much of it left.
Seraphas help me… What have I done?
The wall in front of her seemed insurmountable. She thought she could just throw the entire thing out, but her hands prevented such liberal wastage of food. It seemed that her entire body was traitor to her mind, forcing her to place the plate down and ponder her next move.
Leane looked up into the skies, hoping she could find Galeon. If he wolfed down the meal, he could heal fast enough to avoid the spices. But no solace came to her from the skies. She looked around, sweat dripping down her face, but Emile was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the soldiers had taken him away.
Was it a warning? Had Emile suffered the same fate that was in front of Leane at this moment? Was it possible, that in their carelessness, they had found the one village where they were most exposed. Where they were truly in danger.
No… no, she had to eat this. Maybe if she did it fast enough, she would barely feel the effects. Even now, the spices in her throat had lessened in intensity, right? Leane picked up the pastry again, staring at it hatefully as she did.
Then, she took another bite, and her world spun into confusion. She didn’t remember what happened after, but bites came and went, and so did people. At one point, a pair of small boys came up to her to ask if she was fine, and Leane must have scared them, because they ran away crying.
Leane took another bite, only dimly noticing a portal opening up down the road. Had it been half a pie ago, maybe she would have taken the escape. But now she was committed, and she would not waste a crumb. She chuckled weakly, not knowing if she was going mad or not.
Noviselle must’ve noticed her, because she and Isil came to talk to her soon after. Her face full of pie, she couldn’t beg them to take her away. She had to finish it instead. And so her friends left, leaving her weaker and facing a challenge most unsurmountable.
The innkeeper must’ve been a sadist, because she’d powdered more spices at the end of the pie. No doubt she thought the edge of the pastry would be lacking in flavour as compared to the rest. Leane closed her eyes, taking the rest of the pie with her as she finally finished the fight.
The innkeeper, came out soon after and looked horrified.
“You look near enough to death, girl! Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t handle it!” she shouted at Leane, holding her shaking body.
“It was…. d-delicious…” Leane lied, her puffy lips covered with powder. The innkeeper dragged her inside, and Leane hoped that she would survive the next few hours.
****
Galeon floated in the air, above the clouds of Nlaoja. And plenty of clouds there were. They kept him separated from the ground, leaving him and his thoughts the only thing in the skies. He looked around at the field of floating clouds beneath him, but they didn’t soothe him at all.
How would it feel for everyone else to see what he saw. To believe what he believed? It would be so easy to convince them with his power, but what good would that really be? Jance wouldn’t approve, he knew, but the thought still ached him.
War wasn’t what he had thought it to be, and yet it had been exactly what he had trained for. Fighting with the other hallowmancer trainees wasn’t nearly as dangerous as actual fights in war, but most of the time they had the same outcome. Each side would leave to heal, then come back later.
He knew it wasn’t like that for normal soldiers. They had to contend with ripped off arms and legs, cuts and maims that scarred them for life. But it didn’t have to just be that, did it? Galeon could show those in battle that there was another way. After all, wasn’t that the benefit of their powers? No matter how many times they’d have to be beaten to learn a lesson, it wouldn’t leave scars?
He floated listlessly in the air, caressing his hands against those same clouds as they came back wet. What he wouldn’t give for them to be as soft and lush as they looked. He peeked down at the village, and saw a group of soldiers passing by. A dark cloaked figure lay in the middle, and Galeon could recognize Emile even from far away.
Further ahead, there was an exotically robed man, walking around the roof of his mansion and talking to his son. Treomish’s clothes looked amazingly gaudy, and caught Galeon’s eyes. Galeon moved closer, floating nearer to the mansion.
Treomish positioned himself on one edge of the roof, while his son took up the other. Galeon couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they took fighting stances near each other.
When Atreon tried to place a portal, Treomish flicked a knife at his son. Atreon’s concentration broke, and he dodged the knife instead. He opened a smaller portal with his other end, connecting it to one behind Treomish’s head. The old soldier noticed however, and threw another blade through the portal, forcing Atreon to close it.
Atreon grew more agitated, opting instead to rush his father. Before he could close the distance, his father produced something from his robes and flicked it at his son. The jar exploded on contact with Atreon, spraying tar all over his body. It stuck to his body, slowing him down.
Atreon struggled for only a moment, before he growled. He pushed his shoulders outwards, moving faster than ever before. He rushed towards his father, and before Treomish could throw another grenade, Atreon grabbed his father’s arms.
Instead of resisting, Treomish sighed.
“You’re relying too heavily on it again, son,” he said, ripping his arm out of Atreon’s hands. The boy looked angry for only a moment, before dropping his expression.
“Sorry…” he said to Treomish.
“Your portals are your greatest asset, Atre, you cannot just ignore them for raw strength,” Treomish told him.
“Why not? Not even you can react fast enough for them?” Atreon asked.
“But raw strength isn’t as flexible as your portals. Say you had to bring water from one place to another, and you were given a bucket, how would you do it?”
“One pail at a time?” Atreon suggested.
“And therein lies the issue. You’re a planar, and you have to think like one, too. You should ignore the bucket entirely, and just rip a portal between your locations!” Treomish told him. He finally noticed Galeon to the side, floating in the air above the house. He turned back to his son and continued in a quieter tone.
“We’ll talk more about it later. Get yourself cleaned up, Atre,” he said, patting the boy on his back and sending him on his way. He swiped back some loose hanging hairs away from his face and finally turned to meet the young Afterburner.
“Did you enjoy the spectacle, soldier?” Treomish asked him.
“Those grenades… were those?”
“Ravenishtani? Yes, though a more antiquated design than the current ones, I’d assume.”
“So, there have been Ravenishtanis around here!” Galeon stated. But the accusation didn’t seem to bother Treomish, who simply chuckled slightly.
“No… no, not for a long time, at least. Come with me, Galeon, I’ll show you something you might like,” Treomish gestured for him. Galeon hesitated, wondering what other tricks the old soldier had up his sleeve. But relenting, he dropped to the ground and fell into step behind Treomish, wondering where the man would take him.
They took a staircase down from the roof, twisting around the floors of the house. From the outside, it had looked a bit old and worn out, but the inside was so well-kept, Galeon wouldn’t have been surprised to find out they’d stepped into a proper duke’s abode.
Several trophies hung on the walls, paintings between them and weapons scattered every which way. Apart from that, wooden tables and chairs littered the various rooms of the small mansion, filled with children walking around and servants attending to their tasks.
“Afternoon, chief!”
“Hello there, chief!”
“How do you do, chief?”
They greeted him. Galeon had been taught to respect his nobles, but it seemed here that it didn’t apply.
“You must know how tiring greetings like those get, wouldn’t you, honoured hallowmancer?” Treomish asked him.
“The people back at camp don’t treat us that way,” Galeon responded.
“Does that bother you? To not be given that kind of respect a descendant of Seraphas deserves?” the chief asked nonchalantly. Galeon shook his head.
“I like it like this. When they see me as a hallowmancer, it almost sounds like they’re afraid instead.”
“Hmm, interesting. Well then, here we are,” Treomish stopped abruptly in front of a finely carved door. It didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary, though it was deeply embedded in the house.
Treomish pulled out a key from his robes, making Galeon wonder what exactly he kept hidden on him at all times. He twisted the key in the lock and it gave way with a creak, leading them into a dusty and old room.
The room was old and dusty, and light peeked through only from a small window set in the upper back of the room. Particles of dust hung in the air, visible only through that shining light. Cobwebs cluttered the room, and shelves upon shelves of old forgotten items covered each wall.
“Goodness, I really should have it cleaned soon,” Treomish said, mostly to himself.
He led the young Afterburner to the back of the room, walking slowly. It gave Galeon time to admire everything the old chief kept. Spears and fire lances, their metal rusting and old. A smooth marble that sat ominously by itself. Books and tomes in a language that he couldn’t understand. The head of an animal with the words “Planar” written on the plaque.
“Here it is!” Treomish shouted from the back, and Galeon only then noticed how long he’d spent staring. He shuffled over to the back, finding a hidden shelf that contained… jars of all kinds they were gathering dust, but looked to be of good make. Treomish plucked one of those jars off of the shelves and admired it.
“I was given these from… an old friend, you might say.”
“…Your friend was Ravenishtani?” Galeon asked.
“Aye. We were both positioned at the borders. This was back during the civil war, King Selerin wanted me posted far to prevent interruption from other forces.
“It was during that that I met Colonel Vashani. She and her troops were similarly positioned, leaving us both without much to do. Often, we held joint training programs, keeping the soldiers in check so that they didn’t grow too lethargic. After I was sent off to another position, Vashani gifted me some of their troops’ grenades, and I gave her some finely carved fire lances.”
He placed the little jar back on the shelf, clasping his hands behind himelf.
“Those were the only moments of reprieve during the war. We ate exotic foods, enjoyed stories and learned songs none of our men knew how to sing. We even learned how to ride their elephants!”
“I don’t know where Vashani is right now, but I hope it’s nowhere near Sanasira. Yalesha keep her and her family safe,” he uttered the prayer quietly, leaving Galeon to muse over it.
“Is that why you don’t want to go fight them? Because Vashani might be among them?” Galeon asked.
“Yes. I’ll never raise a blade again if it’s a friend I might strike down,” Treomish told him.
“Does the King know?”
“Better than anyone. And yet he still keeps fighting.”
“But, this… chief Treomish, wouldn’t it be better to convince them to lay down their arms?” Galeon asked.
“How could I? I already gave up my title and rank. For me, the only thing left is this village and its people.”
He turned to face Galeon fully, eyeing the young soldier up and down.
“Keep what you can, Afterburner. Don’t overextend lest everything drop out of your hands,” Treomish told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed and then let go, walking past Galeon and leaving him alone in the room.
Light glistened in from the windows, shining down upon the jars and grenades stacked up on the shelves. Despite the time that had passed, the condition those grenades were in seemed to be good, and Galeon sat down to admire them.
****
The days went by, and Galeon found himself enjoying Nlaoja more than ever before. It was a peaceful place, like Shimmerlake, and it gave him an aching for home he didn’t realize he’d had. Friends made up for it, Isil, Leane or Emile always finding something to do on the days and Galeon coming along with them.
By the time they had to leave, Galeon almost didn’t want to.
“You’ll be off, then. But you’re welcome to come back anytime you want,” Treomish told them. They were at the edge of the village, people crowding behind them. Treomish was in front, a row of servants holding ornaments behind him.
“But I can’t let you young folks leave without a proper remembrance,” the chief said as he beckoned forward his servants. He moved towards Isil, and a servant with a small telescope in his hand moved next to the chief.
“This is the finest glass our village can produce. I hope this scope serves you well in the field, hallowed Planar,” the chief said, handing him the small and delicate item. He moved towards Emile next, plucking an ornate blade from another one of the pillows.
“Spears are too large for a scout to bear. But a blade, that will serve you well, scout,” he then handed it to Emile. Moving forward, he met with Noviselle.
“This is a lotion that I loved very much when I was in the capital. Its soothing and long-lasting, and I hope you get some use of it, Countess,” he told her before handing over a small metal jar.
Leane was next, and the chief smiled when he approached. He took out a few small pouches from a pillow, bound together with golden twine, and her face dropped.
“You seemed to enjoy the spices we have here. With these, you can capture the flavour of our little village wherever you go,” he told her, placing the pouch in her hand. Leane stared at it for a moment, before thanking the chief quietly.
Finally, it was Galeon’s turn, but he saw that the servants and their gifts had finished. He was a bit disappointed at receiving nothing, but he guessed that they couldn’t spare something for everyone.
“Afterburner Galeon, I struggled to find something for you to take along, but I think our little talk finally solved that problem. To you, I leave this, so that you may never forget the bonds we can make amongst ourselves,” he said, placing something silently into Galeon’s palm. When he removed his hand, Galeon found a small grenade there, polished like it was brand new.
He looked back up at Treomish, who moved back towards his servants.
“Thank you, chief,” Galeon told the man. Though they hadn’t stayed long, Galeon would cherish the small jar for as long as he could. A sign of better times, it was, and he would keep it that way.
Isil tucked his telescope back into his pocket, carving a portal open in front of them. The tear in the air shimmered green, and Galeon walked through. The others followed, ending up on a far hill overlooking the entire village.
Leane was the last to come out behind them, eyeing the pouches of spices with focused eyes.
“If they’re too much for you, I could take them off your hands?” Galeon offered. Emile was about to say something in response, but reconsidered after eyeing the spices. He then shrugged, and continued on.
“It’s not the spices, it’s…. gold,” Leane said, thumbing the little wire that bound the pouches together.
“What about it? It’s just coloured that way,” Noviselle told her.
“Gold… I think I was searching for gold…” Leane said, staring up and into the tall mountains ahead of them.
“I was from somewhere near Phasgoria. Far to the south. I thought Sanasira would have gold or riches of some kind. That’s why I went there!” Leane finished, stating the fact as if it were new to her.
“Hmph, Duke Lambre will be pleased to know we found something on our trip after all,” Noviselle said.
“Come on. We have a long road ahead of us,” she beckoned the rest of them, and they continued.