Kallas always talked about a diary—something to record our accomplishments with. We thought the idea a hassle; nobody wanted to write in a book for an hour, trying to remember what it was we did. But… I’ll admit that when we did follow through with it, not a single one wanted to part with it. Royd liked it the most, surprisingly.
— Milaine
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Kallas awoke to an incessant bell, which rang for an entire minute. Groaning, he turned over to his side on a bed, stuffed with straw and layered with feathers before its sleeve, head ruffling over a feathered pillow.
He winced. It hadn’t been that long since they escaped from the capital, and any form of pressure on his chest caused him pain. His jaw was aching a heavy, dull pain, and his arms were tired, albeit functioning. His back especially ached after carrying Ellen to Royd’s carriage. Slowly, his eyes pried themselves open, little streams of light bouncing off his pupils as he made out the structure of the room. Neat, tidy. Clean.
The blurry room slowly turned into something more concrete. There, he found himself sitting on the side of the bed staring at the room around him. Drawings were plastered around the wall, some images of Kallas at a young age floated around here and there and everywhere. Among the sea of drawings were a nostalgic group, one that he knew all too well since his days before the capital work.
Dawnstriders.
That’s what they called themselves at the time. Naive little heroes who helped the community around them. A small bunch who slowly grew into something bigger. A small bunch who knew what they wanted to accomplish, but not what they were in for. That’s what the Dawnstriders were. A side charity; a community service—an act to the people of Old Farrow.
Kallas pushed himself up suddenly, wincing again in pain from the abrupt action. His focus was stuck on a leather bound notebook atop the desk in front of him. Groaning, his legs bent downward slightly as he stood on the floor and he almost tumbled in place, only to use the side of the bed as leverage. It seemed that his legs still needed far more time to heal.
Limping forward and using whatever he could as support, he sat himself down on the wooden chair in front of the desk, which groaned loudly after being ignored for the past few years. He turned himself forward and stared at the notebook for a few moments. An indescribable feeling washed over him. He still and always knew that nobody in the Dawnstriders would want to commit to writing things down…except for maybe a single person. Milaine. In fact, all the work was hers. There may have been a few excerpts written by Royd, or Einwald, or even Kallas himself, but the majority of it was Milaine. And for that, he had to thank her.
Exhaling, Kallas unstrapped the leatherbound book and opened its first page, reading.
‘God. Guess what? The funniest thing happened today. Kallas found himself eating a face full of shit when he conned Almar off his wares! Honestly, the prick deserved it. Everyone’s better off getting a share of his loot. But oh my god, will I never shut that image out of my mind. It’s just too gorgeous.’
He remembered that. Clearly. Almost too vividly. Almar was a Merchant from Hadul, a country far to the East of the Marlyn Capital, who’d come to Marlyn time and time again in search of “good deals”. In reality, he scammed unknowing consumers, and he had to pay his price…after being stuffed in a garbage dump.
It should be known that the Dawnstriders were not a group constrained to a single place. They worked all around the Marlyn area. In fact, Almar’s conning took place just in Galway, which was just at the end of Atlier Road.
Chuckling to himself, Kallas turned to the next page.
‘Royd finally got his own horse today. We all knew he wanted a horse to drive, since the beginning, so each of us pitched in our earnings to buy him one. Man, the look on his face was amazing—I don’t think I regret it one bit… Maybe we can make him our driver now?’
That too, he also remembered. Back then, Royd always wanted to stay away from the dirty work, it being something he never really enjoyed. Instead, he insisted to Kallas and the other members of Dawnstriders to get him a horse. He insisted that he would become the group’s driver, and while it took him a while to get used to, he did eventually switch positions. That was okay, though. Positions in the Dawnstriders were a very abstract thing—one day you’d be a thief, and the other you’d be a noble. Einwald sure had his ways with words.
Kallas smiled, and was about to flip to the next page when suddenly a wave of guilt washed over him. He frowned, displeased, in sorrow, and after staring at Milaine’s handwriting, closed the notebook. That was when he noticed the room was very well maintained, given that Milaine no longer lived in this building. Perhaps it was Royd who entered to help with the daily cleaning. He was always a fun little character, and knew that he meant good even if his words were abrasive. That much had to be true.
Pushing himself up and off of the chair, Kallas made his way to meet Royd again. He figured a thanks was in order, especially since Kallas wouldn’t have pulled off the operation without him. So, making strides just big enough for him to cover the most distance, Kallas walked forward.
“Damn.” He grunted, before limping to the door, pulling it open as he walked into a somewhat narrow hall. He recognized this sight, a very familiar sight, one that sent waves of nostalgia in bursts like the hanging candle light flame on the peach walls.
He was home, back in New Farrow, where he used to live. At least, that’s what he’d hope for. Despite New Farrow being his home, he felt distant to it, too distant to the point where he wasn’t sure if this was his home. For all he knew, he didn’t have a home—perhaps it was back in the castle, where he toiled and worked himself away for a king he'd only seen once.
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Kallas shook his head and limped his way to the staircase, which was just down the hall and to the right, just after a sharp u-turn. He pushed himself forward and down the stairs, body aching as he relied on the railing. What lay before him was something of a tavern-inn lobby. It had all the qualities that a tavern would have: a bar, many seats, a kitchen to make food and drink, but there was also an empty, unused counter meant for checking in a room.
That was before the building was renovated, however. Back when the Dawnstriders were in action, this building was renovated for their use. They could’ve changed it, to be a more communal space and less of an unpolished bar, but it seemed they enjoyed having a bar far more than a normal space. Besides, it let them host parties during times of celebration, and it housed many fine drinks. The food was an entirely different story though—Kallas could thank the heavens Milaine could cook.
Kallas didn’t find a single person at the tables. Rather, there wasn’t a single body in sight, though he heard lots of movement downstairs. Royd must’ve been in the back. Perhaps he was making food, or doing his routine cleaning for the week. Kallas pushed through the many seats.
“Royd?” He called out to the back, behind the counter and within the communal kitchen area.
“Kallas?” Immediately, the noise stopped and Royd exited the kitchen. He smiled. “You’re awake.”
Kallas nodded, and opened his arms for a hug, and Royd, who’d put down his towels and gloves gave him a long hug. Pushing him away, but not letting go, Kallas asked.
“How long was I out for?”
“A week.” Royd replied bluntly. A week was a long time, too long a time to recover. It must’ve been the wounds.
“And everyone else? Are they well?” Kallas questioned him with worry.
“They’re okay.” Royd smiled. “Most of the children have woken up already, and we’ve moved them to Lila’s orphanage. As for, uh—”
“Ellen?”
“Yeah. She’s sleeping upstairs.”
“Oh, thank god.” Kallas heaved a sigh of relief. “But, why didn’t you send her with the rest of the children?”
Royd strained a smile, scratching his cheek. “Well… we were going to, Einwald and I, but she kept crying and insisting that she’d stay by your side. Actually, she’s sleeping now because she exhausted herself from crying too much.”
“Oh. Sounds like something she’d do, alright. Is Varna okay? And what of Einwald?”
“The young lady with noble clothing?” Royd raised an eyebrow. “Say, what were you doing with a lady of that standing? Her clothing is all ruined now, and you’re gonna see the hell of it when they catch wind she’s missing.”
“You’re misunderstanding. She isn’t a noble.” Kallas reassured her.
“That can’t be right. She definitely looks the part. And that hair and Scarf— I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. She looks like she jumped straight out of a fairytale.”
“Fairytale or not, she played a big part in saving those kids.”
Royd’s eyes widened. “She did? Well, damn. Quite the headstrong lady, isn’t she?”
“Definitely. I’d say she could’ve beat Milaine in that quality.”
Then, a swift, aggressive silence swept over the two of them. Royd’s expression fell almost immediately, and Kallas quickly shut his mouth, realising what he just said.
“I— Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re the one who feels it the most.” Royd rubbed Kallas’ shoulder, before continuing. “How’s it going with her? Are you still not over it?”
“If I were over it, then I wouldn’t even be here.”
Royd stared at him for a few moments, before letting go. Perhaps retreating to something else, he began wiping down the counter. “Well, I guess you’re right.”
Kallas stared at him. “I shouldn’t bother you any longer—”
“Hey.” Royd interrupted. “Listen. Are you sure about this?”
“What?”
“About what you’re doing.” He stopped wiping. “Look, if it’s too much then—”
“It’s not too much.”
Royd stared at him, before sighing to himself and continuing to wipe. “Alright. But, we should visit her again, and maybe introduce our newest member of the Dawnstriders.”
“I don’t think—”
“For old time’s sake.” He insisted. “You haven’t been there in a while. I’d reckon she’s feeling lonely without you.”
Kallas put on a sorrowful expression, before turning around and leaning on the counter. Royd wanted to dismiss him, after working so hard to clean it, but he figured this was okay for today.
“We’re not Dawnstriders anymore.” Kallas reminded him.
“Oh, really?” Royd said, grabbing wooden mugs from under the counter and cleaning them. “I figured that was still a thing, since the prison break and all.”
“Maybe.”
“Either way, my point still stands. I’m sure the young lady would appreciate it too.”
“Varna.”
“I’m sure Varna would love it.”
“Okay, that’s that. I’ll think about it sometime.” Kallas sighed, switching the topic abruptly. “Where’s Einwald?”
“He left already, saying he had to go fix the mess you made.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Royd said. “That’s a bad habit of yours.”
“It’s in the works.”
“Everything’s in the works for you.”
Silence fell on the two of them for a few moments.
“Well, it’s good seeing you again, Kallas…even if it were in a way I hadn’t expected.”
“Likewise, buddy.” He held out his hand.
“Anytime.” Shaking it, Royd replied. “I’ll keep watching Varna for you. For now, I guess… go take a walk. The town’s changed a lot since you left.”