Esper's eyes were wide and fixated onto the taught straps that were holding her perch against the man’s shoulders. “Isn’t your bag going to rip?” she asked the indifferent man.

“No, this bag and I were made to carry far heavier things than you.”

“You mean like your faces?”

“They’re masks, child.”

“Why?”

The man was silent for a time, as he trekked up the road, his massive pack swaying behind him from side to side; the wisp thin girl on top swaying with it, her hair dangling back and forth. “You’re really strong. Papa was strong too!”

“I am a journeyman,” he replied dryly. Esper adjusted herself, crossing her legs and looking out behind them at the world she was leaving behind. There was about an hour of daylight left now.

“Go closer to the pit, I want to look down,” she said.

“Absolutely not.”

“Pleease?”

“No.”

Esper let out an upset sigh and gazed at what little she could see from here up against the wall. “I want to see the Burrow though.”

“I don’t care.”

She sighed. “What’s a jermynam?”

“Journeyman, child,” said the indifferent man.

“Haah?”

“You were a gravedigger, yes?”

“Mm!”

“Well I am a journeyman.”

“So do you throw faces in to the pit?”

“I do not.”

Esper stared at him puzzled for a time. She gazed back towards the abyss, towards the little bit of it that she could see. Her mind returned to her home and a pang shot through her, a quiet voice telling her that she should go back, but she also knew in the same instant that that wasn’t an option. Her mind was still racing, as her body ached and screamed for rest, yet she knew she would find none at the moment. Her eyes and spirit were captivated by this new world they passed through.

“Look!” She cried out pointing past the man's head towards a large tree before them. She gazed at it with great confusion for a time. It carried the same red hues as the ones a ways deeper, yet this one was thin as wispy, it’s meager branches instead splaying high into the air, hugging the wall of the rise.

“It’s just a tree,” said the man with a dry tone, as he continued walking. Esper was fascinated by it.

“How many trees are there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh,” She paused. “How many kinds of trees are there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Huuuh…,” the girl planted herself back into her nest, leaning with her back towards the man to instead stare up at the distant sky above them. “Have you ever been to the sky?”

“I have not.”

“Has anyone?”

The man now had his turn to sigh. For a time they moved on in silence, the tall man treading great strides forward up over the gentle spiral incline of the path. Light was growing dim now, as the sun began to leave. “Aren’t you warm?” asked Esper.

“What?”

“Aren’t you warm? You have a big bag and two faces and all those clothes.

“I am not.”

Esper stared at the strange man curiously, tugging on the collar of her own ruined dress, which was stuck to her skin from an epoxy or dried sweat, mud and old crusted blood. A cold prick touched her finger and she pulled out her necklace, a broad smile spreading on her face.

“Look! Look at my necklace!” she cried, holding it out to the indifferent man.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, not looking. Not wanting to risk having to look at the precipice of the abyss next to them.

“Aww…” She leaned back again. The man yawned, raising one of his hands to cover the mouth of his mask.

“Are we going to be there soon?”

“No,” said the indifferent man. “It is a full night's walk to Achtel from Neuntel.”

“Oh!”

“Papa always went to Achtel. He said it was nice, but I never got to go.”

The man said nothing.

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“Does the king live in Achtel?”

“What?”

“The king, is his castle in Achtel?”

“He does not and it is not.”

“Aww! So, does he not have a house then?” asked the girl inquisitively.

The indifferent man remained silent.

“He didn’t live in my town obviously, and if he doesn’t live in Achtel…”

“Child, there are more than two towns in Oratoria.”

“Haaah? What’s Oratoria?”

“It’s our nation. Hush now,” said the indifferent man, losing his indifference just a little now.

Esper was quiet for a time, before looking back to the back of his head. “What’s a nation?”

He sighed and didn’t bother to answer. A moment later he spoke again. “Reach into my bag and give me a piece of paper,” he told her. Ready to earn her keep and eager to please, Esper squirmed and pulled open the string holding the top of the bag sealed beneath her and reached inside with a rail thin arm. There were many wooden things she felt in there and something smooth and warm. A moment later the girl pulled out a single sheet of paper which, despite having been strewn about in the chaotic mix inside, was smooth and stainless.

Reaching over his head she handed him the sheet and retied the string of the gigantic bag. The indifferent man, without breaking his stride removed the wooden rod and cylinder from the bindings holding them and fastened the construction together as before, placing it into the familiar position, so that the hooked rod dangled in-front of him. Esper leaned in and listened closely this time, as the man held the cylinder next to his face. He whispered a word, “Glimmrig,” and turned the bottom of the device. Two audible metal clicks came from the cylinder which began to glow with a faint orange hue; not exploding this time in a burst.

Esper saw this time, as the paper grew into a bright orange and then crumbled into ash instantly, as if it had been consumed by fire. “That’s really nice! I want to do that too!” she said for the second time that day. The man was silent and placed the device on the hook. He stopped for a second and stretched his arms out wide, raising onto his toes to stretch his legs. Esper held on tightly as she rose higher into the air. The tall man yawned and continued walking, as if entirely indifferent to the massive load on his back.

Precious few minutes of daylight remained, Esper looked to the above gazing at the fading rays that were finding their way towards her blurred vision. She fidgeted uncomfortably. The indifferent man continued his march, the extra weight on his back clearly not tiring him much more than his usual load would. His mind was silent, as he walked on ahead. Often he found himself drifting into a distant, blank place. His mind was much like a blank, stainless piece of paper.

Only occasionally would his eyes break from their trance-like state to warily gaze at the precipice, no matter how far he stayed from it. Suddenly he wobbled on his feet, as the weight on his back shifted. “Sit still!” he barked, while trying to keep his balance with his arms, not managing to keep his subdued tone now.

Only a soft “Sorry,” reached him from behind. Shaking his head, he continued onward. Daylight had now vanished, the sun now too far gone for the day to shine its light into the recesses of the world. The inky murk had once again oozed out of the crevices behind rocks and trees, as if the darkness itself had grown out of the shadow of the curious man, it was all around them now. All merged together to create an oppressive, thick layer of night, out of which only his little lantern cut through. The little orange light swaying from side to side, as its glow accompanied them on the way.

Steadily, he continued his pace, once more vanishing into that space in his mind where he was no longer present and once more after that, he snapped out of it, as a thought came to him. Grabbing his journal from his belt, he went through the numbers on several pages. Nodding to himself he fastened the journal back onto his waist and pressed on for a time longer.

As he walked, he listened to the gentle rush of the wind pressing up in their shared direction and the gentle call of the night-birds warning another of the approaching intruders. Their day-bound kin already having departed to higher roosts. Raising his hand to his mask he lifted it up and wiped the sweat off his face. He was hot, though he couldn’t tell her that. Appearances were important.

He wondered whether or not the girl would be of interest to the clergy. He supposed so, they wanted witch-bloods and she seemed to be one. She used a sigil after all. He supposed it would be better than leaving a lone child down in the abyss, but he also supposed that he was indifferent either way. This was, objectively, what was best for the nation and that is all he cared about.

Before him, not far in the distance, he saw the silhouette of a fallen tree slowly shining out, as the orange hue bounced back off of its dewy wood. Oh. He stopped, there was a body laying before him, neatly wrapped in the typical cloth. Not sparing much of a glance, he stepped over the woman and continued on. He didn’t need to see the dead rise in Neuntel with his own eyes to know it was true, if the journal showed it to be so. This didn’t seem to be the case up here though, not that he minded.

Memories of the past came to him and he quickly washed them away with a simple shake of his head, before the dark thoughts could manifest themselves in his mind's eye. Walking around the fallen tree, the tall man saw the rocky offshoot to the left, where a large meadow neighbored the chasm with the road in-between them both. Approaching the clearing, he felt the texture under his boots change from thick dirt to soft, lush grass. He stood there for a moment and breathed in and out in relief.

“Hold on. We are here,” spoke the tall man, realizing how quiet it had been for the last hour. Kneeling down slowly, he placed the pack on to the ground and pulled his arms out from the shoulder straps. Taking a moment to roll his shoulders, he turned to the girl. She wasn’t there. His head shot back down the road searching for some sign of the odd child. Did she fall off and he didn’t notice? Thoughts of a lone silhouette falling into the void made him shiver.

No, if she fell off he would have heard her. She must have run away, but why? Didn’t she want to go up to the higher levels? He scratched his head and jumped back as something suddenly struck his shin. Looking down he saw the fabric of the bag moving and the indifferent man pulled the untied string to open it up and saw the strange, chaotic child inside, fast asleep at possibly the most uncomfortable angle he could imagine; laying on a pile of wooden masks and glass baubles. Occasionally she would fidget in her slumber, her arm or leg kicking out and stretching the fabric.

Dried flakes of mud and grime were scattered around inside the bag, coating several of the masks she lay upon and staining several of the pristine papers. The indifferent man wanted to be upset, but he just couldn’t muster the energy. Shaking his head, he sat down next to the bag and laid down himself on top of the dewy grass. As he straightened out his back, he stretched out his toes in a sweeping motion to provoke a deeply satisfying crack in his lower back. Shifting the mask to a more comfortable position, the tall man took a deep breath, which led to a yawn deeper still.

He wondered what he would get to be tomorrow. They would arrive in Achtel, so it would have to be something with a professional air. Though he supposed they were likely still celebrating the reopening of the crossing at the top of the pit, among other things, perhaps he could get away with something a little more casual. The orange light of the lantern at this point was growing dimmer and dimmer with every minute. The gentle winds came by once more and carried away the last spark of flame out from the canister, sinking the meadow into darkness.

The tired man yawned again, feeling his eyes grow heavy and wet. He never needed long to fall asleep after a day's walk. Turning his head over the bag, he felt a pang of jealousy for the child able to fit inside. He turned his head back straight, he didn’t really care either way right? He yawned one final time, before feeling his eyelids grow heavy. His thoughts returning once more into the empty space in his mind, where he could find quiet for the night. To everything else existing around him, he was indifferent.