“Just a little bit more, Rumi,” Qingxi cooed, her words not quite reaching the beleaguered girl’s head that lay upon her lap. “Once we get to Sayda, I’ll make you that tea in no time at all.”

“Hnng,” Rumi groaned, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed slightly. “Does this ever get easier?”

“...Yeah,” Qingxi responded. “You get used to it.”

“And when does it finally go away?” She asked, rolling to lie on her back so she could stare into Qingxi’s soul with her pleading eyes.

“When you’re sixty.”

Rumi groaned again, rolling to bury her face into Qingxi’s tummy.

“I wish I was Pallas.”

“Right?” Qingxi added.

“Hmm, yeah,” Pallas admitted, laughing softly. “One of the upsides of the Blessing. Could you imagine if it only made it worse?”

Pallas shuddered at the thought. The last– and only– time she’d experienced menstruation was just after Rei took her in. Ever since that horrorshow of a night in the forest, she had not once looked back on forever sealing that aspect of her biology.

“But you’re quite strong, Qingxi,” Rumi mumbled, rolling onto her back again so she could hear her properly. “You still train even when you have them.”

“Well, I didn’t really have much choice,” she responded, putting a hand on Rumi’s head and running her fingers through her fluffy golden hair.

“Mmm,” Rumi hummed. “Lucky Soleiman.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, only the soft rumbling of the wagon’s wheels and the distant clopping of the horses’ hooves on dirt filling the cool morning air.

“Oi, Soleiman,” Pallas repeated. “Rumi’s talking-”

“We’re here!”

Pallas huffed.

“Convenient,” she murmured, shuffling forwards.

Pallas placed her chin on Soleiman’s shoulder as the two siblings beheld the quickly approaching sight that was the riverside town of Sayda.

Soon, the trodden dirt path beneath them turned to stone as their horse-drawn carriage passed the threshold that was the town’s modest iron gate. It had been left open, and there weren’t any guards in sight either. Instead, they were greeted by the stares of the locals, initially hostile and sceptical but then genuinely curious and perplexed as they took notice of the three decidedly non-Saracens within.

This was no Sahlbarid vehicle.

They continued deeper into the town, the small wooden and clay houses soon growing into larger brick-and-mortar homes. The street began to grow livelier too, with their advance deeper into the town’s depths being continually slowed by an ever growing crowd of market goers and craftsmen. Even in the outskirts of this town, the two siblings managed to catch a glimpse of the glory of the Ahdi buildings they saw back in Porthopolis; manifesting themselves in brightly coloured tiles or bricks placed in rows to highlight certain portions of the building. Some of them were even decorated with floral patterns, their striking, flowing images breaking through the brown and yellow monotony of sandstone processed from the riverbed; just like how the River Haara’s currents broke through the endless infinity of the Corridor.

Soleiman even had to personally get down to help lead the horses down the street, since the high frequency of pedestrians cutting in front of them had thrown the horses into a mild panic. Not long after, though, they found a little inn they could rent out and stay in for the night; parking space and a stable stocked with feed included, too.

“Are you sure you want to come along, Rumi?” Soleiman asked, passing the other half of the coins they planned on spending that day to Qingxi.

“Yeah,” Rumi said, though not entirely convincingly. “I’d rather not wait alone.”

“Alright then,” he replied. “You and Qingxi take care, okay?”

“Mm,” Rumi hummed, Qingxi nodding along in acknowledgement.

The two siblings then set off, heading deeper towards the town’s interior while Rumi and Qingxi headed back out to its outskirts to check out a tea store they’d seen on the way to the inn.

“You sure you didn’t see anything on the way here?” Pallas asked him, a large and empty cloth bag slung over her shoulder. “Not a single toolstore?

Soleiman shook his head.

“No. They’re probably all in the interior.”

Between the time it took to check into the inn and to get everything set up for their night’s stay there, the sky had already progressed into a searing white sheen; the noon heat beating down on them from above. That being said, though, this was far different from the heat of Minerva. Unlike Porthopolis or Kardia, the air was far less saturated with humidity, meaning that hiding in the shade actually did something. A fact the town of Sayda evidently took great advantage of, given that they soon stumbled into a shaded street bazaar; where giant umbrellas and translucent covers had been suspended over the stall-covered road to protect them and other market goers from the heat of the sky.

“Hey, Pallas.”

“Hm?”

“About that thing you and Rumi asked me about yesterday…”

“The dream?”

“Yeah. The dream.”

“...You think it might be real?”

Soleiman turned to look at her slowly, eyes filled with unease.

“I think so.”

Their eyes returned to scanning the street ahead of them momentarily, not a single equipment shop in sight amongst the sea of stalls selling all sorts of foodstuffs and fabrics and flowers.

“I wasn’t sure at first, so I couldn’t tell you then, but now…” he continued. “I recall, when reading about the history of the Blight, that the exact events you described in your dream happened in reality.”

They shuffled their way past a small crowd of people, children and adults and a cloaked figure all gathered together for some unknown reason.

“You know the Spiritguides, right?” He asked her.

“Mhm,” she replied. “They’re the ones who help wandering spirits pass on, right?”

“Yeah,” he responded. “And you know how they were all Kitsunites and subservient to Houzen, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, the first one happened to be in the vicinity of the Silent Valley when the Blight fell upon Manarat in 1014,” he said. “And it was because of that that she ended up dying to the illness, leaving the position empty for some time.”

“I see.”

“So, in response to one of their most valued assets falling, they decided to send an expedition to the ruined city to see what had happened,” he said. “An expedition led by the 2nd Spiritguide. A Spiritguide who had a companion called Kinan.”

“So… not Mom?”

“Not Mom.”

“...And what about the fact that the ataphoi called her ‘Rei’?”

“...I don’t know. I can’t recall any instances of the Spiritguides having their names mentioned,” he replied.

“Hmm,” Pallas hummed. Between this and the incident outside of Porthopolis, she feared the worst.

“What do you think this means, Soleiman?”

She locked eyes with him.

“Mmh, well,” he struggled, careful to not say anything that may stoke her fears. “The only other entity I know of that had the ability to bend the minds of others was…”

“The 1st Soteira?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Even though he died to his own hubris four decades ago in 1064. Kickstarting the Bloodrain War in the process.”

Perhaps she had inherited a fragment of his power, somehow. A fragment too small to effectively control, yet powerful enough to affect her; leading her to have nightly torments that defied all logic. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. At least not until they found some other well of information Soleiman could use to try and patch the hole in his knowledge.

“But don’t worry, okay?” Soleiman added, wrapping his good arm about Pallas’ shoulder and giving her a gentle rub. “No matter what happens, I’ll be there to face it with you.”

She huffed, smiling slightly before looking down at her boots and stopping in place.

She didn’t know a lot of things. She didn’t know a lot about her powers, and she didn’t know a lot about what would happen to them ever since they left the company of their Mother mere months ago. She didn’t know that she’d end up coordinating a covert rebellion against the Hashashiyyin, that she would end up taking down the Protoataphoi, or that she would have even left the Minervan forest at all.

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“Pallas?”

She didn’t know a lot of things. But one thing she did know was that her brother would always be there for her.

And that was all she needed to know.

She threw her arms around him, squeezing him into a breath-stealing embrace.

“Love you, Soleiman,” she said.

Though a little taken off guard, he too soon melted into her hug.

“...Love you too, Pallas.”

…

“Okay, we should get moving now,” she said, pulling away. “I can feel everyone staring at us.”

“Okay, Rumi!”

Qingxi stepped out of the tea store, several boxes and bags of various teas in the wicker basket she carried. Rumi had taken a seat at a nearby tavern’s outdoor seating area, a singular barren stick just barely populated with the occasional morsel of chicken in her hand. Qingxi wouldn’t have been able to tell it was her if not for her hair, given that she’d leaned so far over and that she had rested her head face-down on the table.

“Rumi? Are you okay?” She asked, hurrying over to squat down by her.

“Yeah… I’m fine,” she said, totally unfine.

“Where’d you get that stick from?” Qingxi asked, placing the basket down on a small circular table nearby.

“A waiter came and gave it to me when he saw me sitting here,” she said. Slowly looking up, her teary eyes peered into Qingxi’s. “It was so good.”

She wasn’t even present in the moment. Qingxi could tell that she was still stuck five minutes ago when the chicken skewer still hadn’t been finished.

“Do you want me to go get more?”

“We can’t just ask for more free stuff, though…”

“That’s okay,” Qingxi responded, taking a seat next to her. “I have quite a bit of coin on me, since outside of that one bribe and our time at the Diner I haven’t spent anything.”

“Really?” Rumi asked, suddenly perking up.

“Mhm,” Qingxi hummed. “I take it you would like some more chicken skewers?”

“Yes! Please.”

After they had their fair share of food and drink, the two girls went on with the day. Given that they’d barely spent any time actually getting to the tea shop and buying the supplies they needed, they figured they could take some liberties to spend a little more time shopping around.

Rumi, her spirits having been lifted by the life-changing food served at the tavern, was raring to go. Having been greenlit by Qingxi, she led the two of them on a spree through the streets of Sayda, buzzing into and out of stalls and stores and shops like a bee would with flowers. Returning each time with a little more pollen stuck onto itself.

At first it was just food, but then she saw a cute scarf. Then it was a dress, and then a coat or a blanket. It was going to get cold, after all. And it never hurt to have a few options in rotation, especially considering the party had been travelling basically the same garb over the past few months. She even bought some for Soleiman and Pallas, eyeballing their sizes with what experience she had doing tailoring back in Minerva.

One gander led to the next, and before they knew it what once was a brief look at a curious-looking store had stocked them up with more things they knew what to do with.

Qingxi never objected, though. Seeing Rumi so happy was worth more than the coin she had on hand.

They even met a few interesting figures, locals who were more than surprised to see two foreigners visiting their stores. Some were dancers, others old uncles and aunties that tended to their stalls while they lived out their golden years. There were also dancers, merchants, a cloaked figure, market hustlers and many more.

Usually, these people only ever saw other Janubis; with the occasional Ahdi holiday-goer coming to spend their vacation or foreign Kitsunite from a nearby Houzen Shrine coming to carry out charity work being their only glimpses at the wider world. And though the language barrier proved to be a slight issue, Rumi and Qingxi’s soft Minervic were adjacent enough to soft Plataic that basic conversations could be had.

Of course, not that that had any bearing on how much they were willing to hand the two girls for free. They got everything from perfumes in quaint glass vials coloured pastel to quilts meticulously hand-crafted from a kaleidoscope of colours. Even entire bouquets, much to their bewilderment.

In the end, they decided to call off the spree based not on the fact that they’d run through half of the money Qingxi had on hand, but rather that they were physically incapable of carrying anything more. In fact, Qingxi could barely see past the mountain of fabrics she carried with her, and Rumi struggled to breathe with the several bags stocked with foodstuffs and books she knew Soleiman would like bearing down upon her.

“Okay, no more,” Rumi said, hopping slightly to adjust the bags strapped about her. “We should get back before Soleiman and Pallas get worried.”

“Yeah,” Qingxi responded, peering out from beyond the mountain of clothes. “I don’t think we could carry more even if we wanted.”

Rumi giggled slightly.

“Mmm, I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Qingxi replied. “So long as you feel better now.”

“Mm. I do,” Rumi said. “Thank you, Qingxi.”

“Happy to help.”

“Dinner’s ready!”

Rumi placed the four plates on the circular wooden table the party sat around, quickly retreating back to the kitchen to return the tray she’d used to ferry them to the dining room.

The other three said their thanks, picking up their utensils as she sat herself back down in between Pallas and Soleiman and opposite Qingxi. Making sure she was on his left.

Tonight, with access to the cooking implements built into the structure of the inn they were staying at, Rumi had decided to take the opportunity to cook up something they otherwise wouldn’t be able to have while on the road.

She had baked pizza.

Though given the limitations of the inn’s relatively small oven, she had resorted to cooking up rectangular pizzas; which weren’t so bad in their own right. It at least made partitioning the four quadrants a little bit more straightforward.

The dish itself was simple. It had a nice, thick dough with a healthy crust seared golden brown by the heat of the oven and was covered in layers of tomato sauce, basil cuttings and halloumi cheese she and Qingxi had fetched from their shopping spree. Though, admittedly, she would’ve preferred to have used feta cheese; which was unfortunately really only produced in Minerva.

Nevertheless, despite using only those three ingredients and some basic vegetable oil the inn provided, she did not disappoint.

“Oh wow,” Soleiman said thoughtlessly to himself, entranced by the veritable explosion of flavour just waiting to be put into his mouth.

“You really pulled out all the stops, huh, Rumi?” Pallas asked, smiling in anticipation as she scoped out her plan of attack.

“Hehe,” Rumi giggled, blushing slightly. It was always nice to see them so pleased with her service. “All thanks to Qingxi buying me those ingredients.”

“Mm,” Pallas hummed. “I was gonna suggest you take a break one of these days from making food but, honestly…”

The memories of their botched ‘meals’ flashed through their heads.

“Given our track records, I don’t know anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Rumi insisted, adjusting the apron she for some reason still wore. “I don’t mind cooking all the time if it’s for you guys. It makes it feel like we’re a family, you know? Plus Qingxi’s tea basically got rid of the pain entirely.”

Qingxi hummed.

Pallas nodded in acknowledgement, for she had already taken her first bite.

And by all the magicks on the continent it was one of the most phenomenal things she’d ever tasted.

The soft, chewiness of the thick dough played amazingly off of the savouriness of the cheese and the oil, and that kick the tomato gave came into play as well to throw in a third dimension to the flavour bonanza. It was so much, yet somehow so balanced and restrained. Her taste buds even hurt a little bit from how intensely stunning it was.

Rumi smiled again. It was always even nicer to see them so pleased with the food itself.

She made contact with Qingxi for a moment, nodding ever so subtly.

“So, Pallas,” Qingxi said, not even having taken a single bite out of her pizza yet. “How about we start training the night after this one?”

The two of them then continued in conversation, too focused on planning what they’d be busying themselves with for the next week or so of travelling while they made their way to their first Houzen Shrine.

Exactly according to Rumi’s plan.

For as they talked away, her eyes drifted over to Soleiman, his own lasered down on his food in utter focus as he chowed down on it with a ferocity she only ever saw when he ate her food.

Gently, she placed her foot atop of his, squishing it down.

He turned to Rumi mid-chew, pausing for a moment before hurriedly finishing the mouthful.

“Yeah?” He asked quietly.

Subtly so as to not draw the attention of the other two, she stuck her hand into the front pocket of her apron, slowly slipping out a certain something she’d bought at the marketplace earlier.

Clutching it within the fingers of her right hand, she slowly moved it under the table, unfurling it only when it was positioned just above his lap.

Presenting to him a little pressed sunflower, the glorious gold of its petals still as radiant as they were on the day it was picked.

His eyes widened slightly in shock, flicking up to face Rumi with a look of disbelief on his face.

A look Rumi responded to with a warm smile, comforting as a mild summer’s day.

Maintaining eye contact with her was like staring into the noon sky, and so he quickly averted his gaze. He could even feel the heat of her radiance on his now flushed face, the redness of his blush still evident even in spite of his darker skin colour.

“Thank you, Rumi,” he eventually managed, smiling weakly back in return as he took the sunflower from her and felt its soft petals on the fingers of his left hand.

He’d read about people giving each other flowers in books before. Typically romances.

Though never did he think he’d be on the receiving end of such a great kindness. Even though he never stopped fantasising about it.

A fantasy that was fantastical no longer.

“It would be best if we could-”

“Wait, hold on,” Pallas suddenly cut Qingxi off, her attention hooked by a glimmer in her vicinity.

Two glimmers.

“Are you crying, Soleiman?” She asked incredulously, leaning slightly forward as if to try and see if her eyes were just playing tricks on her. “What happened?”

“Oh no,” he replied, sniffling slightly as he wiped the sheen off of his eyes with his shoulder, reaching his left hand out under the table to intertwine with Rumi’s right. “I’m fine. It’s just that this is so good.”

“Oh, okay,” Pallas responded, chuckling slightly to herself in disbelief. “Sorry, you were saying, Qingxi?”

“I was saying I could teach you some basics while we’re still travelling to Houzen,” she said. “I’d rather get them down first so that we can commence training proper once we get somewhere with enough resources for us to use,” she said. “Speaking of which, which Shrine are we headed to first, by the way?”

“Hibara,” Soleiman responded, returning to feasting on his food, his voice still weak. “It’s one or two weeks away from here. There’ll be some other towns we’ll stop at for resupplies but we won’t be able to have a stay-in like this again given the travelling budget we have.”

“We could work for some money,” Qingxi suggested.

“Not in the territory of the Banu Ahd, no,” Pallas countered. “Let’s just hurry along to Houzen and get out of here, because I really feel like something bad is on our tails.”

“What about the payment from the town hall?” Rumi asked. “The one we’ll get after checking out that Living Cemetery the Janubis were talking about?”

“Oh, right,” Soleiman said, rubbing her fingers with his; the small sunflower embraced by both of their hands. “Yeah we could do that.”

“Alright then,” Pallas concluded. “First thing tomorrow morning we’ll have to start packing up before our stay expires. Then we’ll head off to go tell the Town Hall before checking on the Cemetery. We come back, get our payment, and then leave. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Soleiman responded, Qingxi and Rumi humming and nodding respectively.

“Great!”