Part 1: The beginning
Leaving Home
Eliot
“Are you listening, Eliot?” asked an annoyed voice. Eliot Relius was snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Cel Verrus. They were teenagers, barely fifteen and fourteen years of age. In their time, though, sixteen was adulthood, so they felt pretty old compared to the rest of the children. Eliot’s most distinctive feature was his prominent hair color. It was a platinum white and he was born with it. Aside from that, he had brown eyes and was skinnier than most people. Cel had light brown hair, amber eyes, olive skin, and was in excellent shape, even for someone his age.
They were leaning on a sharp incline at the base of a hill. On top of the hill was a large wood and stone building, blocking the sun’s rays and giving them the perfect lighting
Eliot smiled and replied, “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Cel rolled his eyes and said, “This is important. How much of that did you hear?”
“None of it,” Eliot laughed. Cel sighed good naturedly, and repeated what he was saying.
“Mathew said that he overheard some guards talking about a new spirit in the graveyard.”
“Am I supposed to go settle every spirit’s unfinished business?” Eliot groaned.
A random spirit is usually something to be ignored, Eliot, however, has the ability to commune with them because he was gifted with mana sensitivity at birth. Most regular beings can’t sense mana, but for the beings that can, manipulating mana is a simple step away. Mana manipulation is essential because spirits are mana facsimiles of dead beings with unresolved regrets. The concentration of mana is enough for regular beings without mana sensitivity to see a spirit, but a spirit’s five senses only pick up on mana. They can only see mana, can only hear a sound imbued with mana, and can only speak through mana.
“I’m not finished,” interrupted Cel, growing excited. “The guard is giving a reward for exercising it.” This piqued Eliot’s interest, his family was like any other peasant family, extra money to feed themselves never hurt. He also frequented the graveyard. It was something he kept hidden from others as it might be seen as weird, but he always found the company of the dead relaxing.
“How much is the reward?” Cel broke out in a smile.
“Ten silvers.” Eliot’s eyes went wide, a regular person’s yearly pay in a town like theirs was only fifteen to twenty silvers.
“Why so high?” he queried with the thought, There must be some sort of catch. Cel’s smile turned rigid.
“That’s the thing… no one knows for sure, the guards are keeping it a secret. Mathew thinks there’s a chance that it might’ve been a mage when it was alive.”
If a spirit was a Mage in life, the spirit would have access to all of their mana related skills, meaning the spirit could possibly be able to cast magic.
Eliot frowned in earnest, unsure of whether or not he should go, but eventually relented when he thought about how much the silver could help out his family.
They waited until night bloomed: night was preferred by dark aligned and spiritual creatures, they hoped that the spirit would be in a better mood if it was night time. Eliot walked on the long dirt path that started in town and led to a hill, a different hill than the one they were at in the afternoon, where the graveyard was built. The original settlers of the town really liked to build important things on hills for some odd reason. The graveyard was boxed in by tall stone walls, an ornate black gate was the only entrance. Eliot could see Cel waiting at the top of the hill and quickened his pace. They didn’t need to greet each other, and immediately addressed the matter at hand.
“What’s the plan?” asked Cel. "I won't make fun of your scheme hands, promise."
Eliot gave him a look and said, “You’ve seen me exorcise a spirit before.”
“This is different,” he argued. Eliot shrugged and pushed through the gates. Cel followed in after him, but only after having a lengthy, exasperated sigh.
The graveyard itself was surprisingly well kept, no trash or disrepair could be seen on the rows of graves and the walls only had small amounts of moss growing on them. That was to be expected, though. The Church of Life demands the dead be respected.
They walked to the west side of the graveyard, where the spirit was said to be. After a few minutes of walking, Eliot could feel mana in the air. He stopped and gestured for Cel to do the same. Then, he closed his eyes and felt where the mana was coming from. When he opened his eyes, he could see a faint green trail of mana leading farther down the path. He sighed in relief once he saw the color of mana. The color reflected what path of magic you studied, green mana almost certainly meant the mage was friendly. Wow… the mana’s dense, thought Eliot as they followed the trail. His mana was more gasious and flimsy looking. The spirit’s mana looked almost like clear water.
They continued following the green mana for a couple of minutes before finally laying eyes on the spirit. The spirit looked to be an old man, long beard, sunken eyes, wrinkled and saggy skin, dressed in a mage robe and made entirely out of a glistening, transparent green mana. When the spirit noticed the two gatherings of mana approaching it, its eyes gleamed.
The last time he met a spirit was nearly three years ago. Back then, he manipulated the mana inside of him to take on a human shape, to let the spirit know he was human. But since then he’s started working on his very own Mage Armor, perfectly outlining his human shape. With that taken care of the only thing he needed to do was imbue some mana into his voice.
“Greetings!”
“Greetings, I am Karl Favesh. I was a druid when alive and taught at the Arcane Academy of Everveil,” said the old man.
“My name is Eliot Relius, a simple peasant boy,” Eliot replied with a bow.
Karl Favesh chuckled and said, “No need to be humble with me. Your mana manipulation and the thickness of your Mage Armor is promising.”
“There isn’t much to do as a youth and practicing any real magic is too dangerous, that’s why these skills are trained as much as they are,” said Eliot.
“Then, you’ve yet to be properly trained? What corner of the Earth have I wound up in?” asked the old man.
“You find yourself in the Town of Flora. We’ve only recently taken up township, so it’s still more of a village,” answered Eliot.
“Do you happen to know where The Town of Flora lies in the Crucible Empire as a whole?” continued Karl Favesh. Eliot’s brows furrowed in thought.
“I…believe that the town is on the southern outskirts of the empire.”
Karl Favesh nodded, then he manipulated his mana to converge in front of him and solidify into the shape of runes. Cel stepped in front of Eliot protectively, but Eliot put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head before turning back and engraving the symbols in his memory. He hoped that by remembering the runes he would be able to cast the spell Karl Favesh was using in the future.. Cel hesitantly backed off, but fixed his gaze on the spirit.
The reason magic was too dangerous to haphazardly practice has to do with how a spell was cast. Spells were cast by engraving runes on reality using mana. The runes were like instruction for reality, telling it what the Mage wanted it to do. Each spell calls for different runes in different orders. If Eliot made random shapes and hoped for the best, many bad scenarios could play out. For example: he could warp everything within a fifty foot radius to The Abyss, the spell could backfire and inflict harm on himself, or, the most likely scenario, nothing could happen. Also, if he ended up using most of his mana, he would suffer from mana fatigue.
The runes in front of Karl Favesh converged on one point, forming a gathering of mana that quickly turned into a small portal, barely large enough for him to fit his hand through. The portal looked fairly plain. It was framed in small, sharply tilted spikes. As if someone simply took a circle shaped cookie cutter, pressed into space and twisted as they pulled up, deforming the edge but not actually separating it from the rest. Or it could be compared to a chef cooking an omelette, twisting it with chopsticks as it turns solid.
Karl Favesh reached into the portal and grabbed a piece of parchment, closing the portal as he retracted his hand.
“Please accept this gift as a token of thanks for assisting me in passing on,” said the old man as he handed the parchment to Eliot. Eliot carefully took the parchment and examined it in interest. After a few seconds, he realized that it was a letter of recommendation to the Arcane Academy of Everveil, completed with a wax seal and Karl Favesh’s signature sealed with mana. Eliot stared at the letter in disbelief, he’s always dreamed of properly learning to use his mana and be able to cast magic, but it was never possible without harming his family. The only way he would be able to enroll in any school of the arcane would be to pay a king’s ransom in tuition. Being the loving family they are, Eliot’s parents and sister had urged him to become a mage and not worry about them. With this letter of recommendation, he would be able to learn at the most prestigious Arcane school there is, with no cost.
Eliot suddenly snapped out of his daze, remembering his manners and how he was supposed to present himself.
“I-I cannot accept this, I haven’t done anything yet, I may not be able to help you pass on,” he said. Karl Favesh made a sound that had all the attributes of a laugh but the effect of a scoff.
“I’m well aware of what chains me to the mortal realm, young one.” Eliot was surprised, it usually takes intense recollection to find what is keeping you bound to the mortal plane, as it could be as small as forgetting to say thank you to someone and most spirits have fragmented personalities or memories.
“Tell me what it is, I’ll fix your regret immediately,” he said earnestly.
“My regret was that I never had an discipulus,” he answered. At first, Eliot had to search his brain for the meaning of that word: discipulus was just a fancy word they used for direct disciple or student, someone they would entrust with their personal or familial knowledge and abilities. When he remembered, he grew startled by the simple request, he expected a mage’s regret to be something grandiose, like never achieving mastery of a spell, never learning the secret behind a weird phenomenon, or never outshining their rival. But, when he considered the circumstances, his brow furrowed as he realized that this was a much harder request to fulfill then he originally thought. Karl Favesh was a spirit, after all.
Karl Favesh seemed to pick up on his thoughts, and said, “Don’t be troubled, it’s much easier than you think. You will be my apprentice, and, while I cannot teach you, the letter of recommendation will be the enabler, that is enough for me.” Eliot forgot how to breath. All he’s ever wanted to do was learn magic and see the world.
He bowed a full ninety degrees and genuinely said, “Thank you, Magister!”
“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, your promises won’t provide me with enough to make me pass on. You’ll need to make a Mana Contract with me,” Karl Favesh shot down Eliot’s hope of no catches.
“What is a Mana Contract?” asked Eliot, even though he could guess from the name.
“The most basic form of a Mana Contract is simply a promise imbued with mana. If you were to break the promise you would face extremely harsh consequences,” he explained. his voice carried an ominous sheen, he fully intended to make Eliot adhere to the promise.
“What are the consequences for breaking a Mana Contract?” Eliot played along.
“They can be anything, the consequences are decided by the one offering the contract. Now, as for this contract, if you were to break it your mana will become poison for your body, burning you up from the inside. Even if you could remove all of your mana before you die, over time you would die of mana fatigue. And trust me, there will be no way to circumvent your punishment,” he elucidated threateningly. Eliot swallowed a mound of saliva as his expectations were less severe than the reality.
“What are the terms of your contract?” he asked with some apprehension.
“Nothing serious, I only need you to promise me that you will go on to become a prosperous mage, and that you will not use your powers for evil,” he laughed, his earlier hostility completely forgotten. Eliot’s complexion brightened, he was already going to strive to be a prosperous mage and never intended to use his power for evil. He was confident that this contract would never hinder him in the future.
“I promise to be a prosperous mage and to not use my powers for evil,” Eliot vowed. He grew confused when nothing happened, he assumed that he would feel a shift in his mana. Seeing his confusion, Karl Favesh offered some insight on the matter.
“Tis’ not so easy to make a Mana Contract. You need to truly mean your words. You need to promise yourself as much as me.” Eliot took a deep breath and repeated what he said. It took a few tries, but as soon as he uttered the last word, he could feel a small amount of weight settle on his mana, as if it was carrying something. Karl Favesh somehow knew that the Mana Contract was created and a benevolent smile took residence on his face.
Stolen novel; please report.
“With that done, I can move on. I will forever be in your debt, Eliot Relius. I hope we meet once more in Paradise.” When he was finished speaking, the translucent green mana glowed brighter for a split second before disappearing, blinding them in the darkness. Eliot carefully fixed the letter in his pocket; Cel jumped and whooped in excitement next to him.
“You did it, you can finally become a mage!”
Eliot glanced at him and asked, “How did you know what he was saying?” Cel accompanied him the couple times he exorcised a spirit in the past, and he was clueless then.
“I read his lips,” he shrugged. Eliot studied Cel for a few seconds in thought. He’s always been that way, acting like he learned it out of the blue. At first Eliot thought he was just trying to impress him, but now he was starting to have second thoughts. They spent most of their time together, so where would he find the time to learn intricate things like reading people’s lips, or sleight of hand? He soon abandoned that train of thought, though. Cel was the one person, in the whole world, that he avoided trying to read and completely trusted. He liked it that way.
“All right, let’s meet up at the guard post in the morning,” Eliot said to Cel.
“Don’t say up too late,” Cel yelled as he ran home.
Eliot, however, harbored too much excitement to sleep. He ran over to the east side of the graveyard and sat down in his usual spot, under a crooked tree with darkened wood. He recalled the runes and the order that Karl Favesh had used previously. Fortunately, he was gifted with a strong mind, there is no possible way he could make a mistake when he focused on remembering the runes so intensely and since he saw them just a few minutes ago.
He giddily and masterfully guided his mana into the correct shape and order before fortifying it with more mana to engrave it on reality. After he supplied most of his available mana, his grey mana converged into a small portal of the same color; Karl Favesh’s portal had also been grey, and he wondered if that meant anything for a brief second.
That was when it hit him, he started gasping for breath and sweating from the intense effort, as well as this being the first time he had used such a massive amount of his mana. Through the portal,he could see what looked like an underground study, with stone walls, a desk and bookshelves covering practically the entire wall space.
Eliot’s heart started beating even faster than before, something he thought impossible after the exertion he went through. I can use this! He thought in utter elation. As long as I manage to find the runes specifying the location and size, I should be fine modifying them. His thoughts could barely stay ahead of his body as he was already forming the runes in front of him. By only forming the runes and without trying to cast it, he could study them without any problems.
Four runes made out of grey mana softly glowed in front of Eliot as he leaned forward and squinted his eyes. The first rune was simply a portal, it was a rotating circle with a small amount of excess forming blunt spikes at fifteen degree angles on its border. The second rune was a fancily drawn “E”. The Third and fourth runes were both numbers. It was easy to figure out that the first rune was the spell itself and that the last two were its size and location, but Eliot could only guess as to what the second one was for. Still, he was surprised and more than a little disappointed that the spell was so simple. He shook his head and decided not to dwell on it.
Throughout the whole ordeal, Eliot felt a massive amount of fatigue that he had been ignoring. It was then that a wave of nausea passed over him and the mana briefly flickered before disappearing. he quickly shifted to his left before he threw up all of the contents of his stomach in painful spurts. When he was done, he collapsed on his back while struggling to get enough air in his lungs. After a few minutes of catching his breath, he heaved himself back into a sitting position with a grimace on his face.
He pushed himself too far. He was already tired from using a lot of mana on the first cast, then he further exerted himself by controlling mana outside of his body for too long than he could handle. Until a Mage specialized, their mana would dissipate and drain, at a significant pace, if they manipulated it outside of their body.
He looked at the liquid he just threw up while his tongue recoiled from the awful taste in its mouth. He cursed his unthoughtfulness as he dragged himself to the well in town. I should have just written them in the dirt. The river in the forest would have been closer, but he hated the forest. Eliot couldn’t explain why but he was never comfortable in the forest, as if the very essence of the forest bothered him. He was lucky that it was late into the night and only the guards, that he managed to avoid, were out patrolling.
He slowly dragged his feet on his way home after washing out his mouth. Eliot lived in a small cottage that didn’t stand out in his packed town. It was the only place he had experience living in, and he thought that the town was big, it took about an hour of walking to get from his house to the edge of the town. However, Eliot was told that theirs was a small town and that other settlements were much bigger, especially the Metropolis.
As soon as he opened the door, his parents assaulted him with worries. Eliot’s mother had long, platinum white hair and brown eyes, wearing simple cotton and hide clothing. Eliot’s father had dark black hair and black eyes, wearing similar clothing. Apparently his mother was a brunette, but her hair suddenly paled to the color it is now when she gave birth to Eliot.
“Where have you been!” his father shouted at him. Their eyes widened when they saw Eliot’s sorry figure, remembering a similar memory when he was younger.
“Were you trying magic again?” whispered his mother in horror.
“Please let me explain before you go crazy,” he pleaded. Eliot’s parents stood in front of him with expectant expressions on their faces. “There was a spirit that needed to be exercised in the graveyard. The spirit used to be a mage when they were alive, they gave me this and taught me a spell.” While he was explaining, he gingerly passed along the letter of recommendation. The excitement and shock on their faces betrayed the previous scolding tone. “The guards also gave a large reward of ten silvers, I’ll go accept it in the morning,” he added a cherry on top. After a moment of silence, his parents started crying. They had always wanted Eliot to become a mage, but he refused because it would put too much of a burden on them.
They wrapped him in a bear hug for a couple long moments before Eliot’s father said, “Go wash up, you’re covered in a layer of grime.” He nodded with an ear to ear smile on his face before he ran to his room.
On the way, Eliot ran into his older sister, Elizebeth. She had her Father’s hair and her mother’s eyes. She ruffled Eliot’s hair and gave her congratulations before letting him pass. Unbeknownst to Eliot, as soon as the door to his room closed, her smile disappeared and her eyes watered. She quickly rubbed her eyes and fixed her expression with a deep breath before discussing the changes with their parents. They discussed the route he would take to get to Everveil, the Metropolis of the empire, and packed for him.
The next morning, Eliot woke up refreshed, despite only getting a few hours of sleep. He got ready quietly, not wanting to wake his family, and ran out of his house with anticipation as he made it to the guard post and met up with Cel.
“How do you always make it before me?” he Eliot.
Cel just shrugged and said, “Mages don’t have the best constitution.” Eliot playfully punched Cel’s arm while reminding him that he wasn’t a mage yet.
Despite the seemingly meaningless question, Eliot was confused on how Cel always showed up before him. They had been friends practically their whole lives and it was always this way. After all, they both trained their battle skills with the guard. Cel was gifted in the area, but he never showed anything prodigy worthy; the only possibility Eliot could come up with is that Cel would always leave extremely early, but he had no idea why he would do that.
The captain of the guard, Craig, smiled as he caught sight of Eliot and Cel. They were regulars and resolved many of the problems that were either out of their abilities, like spirits, or tasks barely under the level the guards were required to deal with.
“Eliot, Cel! Congratulations for succeeding in exercising that spirit” Craig chirped. Eliot was confused at first, “How could they know that it was us?” he thought.
Eliot returned the smile and said, “Thank you for giving such a generous reward.”
“The reward fits the task, it would have been a big problem if it wasn’t exorcised soon,” praised Craig. Eliot thought about it and realized that he underestimated the level of threat. Spirits are fragile, if they are not exorcised in a timely manner, they go mad. Not to mention, that a mad spirit that used to be a mage could wipe out his whole town. Now that I think about it… why was Karl Favesh in our graveyard? I suppose I’ll ask at the academy,thought Eliot.
Craig handed over a small leather pouch that jingled when it was dropped into Eliot’s hand. Eliot and Cel thanked the man and left to let him handle his other duties. Eliot reached into the bag and pulled out four silvers that he handed to Cel.
“Woah, what’s this for?” asked Cel. Eliot just looked at him with a sad smile and deposited the silvers into his hand for him. “Seriously, this is too much, I didn’t do anything,” argued Cel.
“Think of it as my going away present,” he said. Cel sighed and sprouted a somber smile of his own when he realized what Eliot was getting at.
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” he said with some difficulty.
“Do you have any big plans for your last day?” Eliot turned toward him with a smirk.
“Of course.”
Eliot’s last day in town was bittersweet. He had a great time running around the town and settled any regret he might have. The best part, though, was when the sun was beginning to retire and Eliot led Cel to the guard’s training ground.
“What are we doing here?” asked Cel. The training ground was a courtyard with barren dirt for soft landings. Near the east wall, there was an armory of practice weapons. Eliot grabbed two wood swords and handed one to Cel before getting into a stance.
“We’re going to have a serious battle,” explained Eliot. Despite them training together, they were never competitive and never went against each other with everything they had. Cel nodded resolutely and stepped back the proper distance. They both got into comfortable stances and stared each other down. They swung at the same time and their swords collided with a dull thwack! Eliot jumped back to doged the quick thrust Cel sent his way before rushing forward and delivering an upward slash. Cel saw it coming and used his sword to pin Eliot’s before he could put any force behind it. Then, he repositioned his sword to hit Eliot while he was still off-balance, but was surprised to see Eliot moving with it by jamming his sword into the ground and using it as a support to deliver a powerful kick to his side. Eliot quickly scrambled to his feet and swung at his opponent. Cel managed to hastily put up his sword to block Eliot’s but the force of the blow sent him stumbling to the right. Eliot, eager to press his advantage, didn’t let up and prepared a thrust. Cel took a page out of Eliot’s book and used the momentum of the blow to transition into an Arcane Stance.
While it is true that only beings with mana sensitivity could see or manipulate mana, every being has mana. An Arcane Stance was a stance that would naturally shift the mana in someone’s body to help with the attack.
Cel was crouching while his sword was near his waist on his left side with his left hand touching the hilt and his right at the bottom of the handle. He released blinding fast slashes in front of him. Eliot recognized the Arcane Stance and immediately dropped and rolled behind Cel. One of the weaknesses of Arcane Stances is that the attack can’t be canceled unless it is done by some with mana control. Eliot quickly got up and turned around to thrust his sword into Cel’s back, but his eyes widened as he saw Cel had predicted what he would do and seamlessly transitioned into another Arcane Stance. Cel’s left leg was firmly placed in front of him as his sword was up and to the left with both hands tightly gripping it. He brought his sword down at an angle while he spun. The air pressure pushed Eliot back and made him off-balance. Cel didn’t miss the opportunity to attack and he pounced on Eliot.
Eliot resolved himself to defense as he was caught off guard with Cel’s onslaught. The advantage that Cel had was short lived, as Arcane Stances used mana, making Cel all the more tired. He slashed one more time before retreating and putting distance between Eliot and himself.
“Let’s settle this with one last exchange!” he said as he got into his most practiced Arcane Stance. Cel put his sword on the left side of his waist, as if he was sheathing it and stood rigidly straight as he had his left arm relaxed at his side while his right arm rested on the handle of his sword. Eliot followed Cel’s flow and shifted into his favorite Arcane Stance. Eliot faced Cel with his left side while his head was bent ninety degrees to look at Cel. Eliot raised his sword, left hand above right on the handle, just above his right shoulder. Cel bent his legs before he dashed forward at a high speed. At the same time, Eliot moved almost imperceptibly forward before he disappeared from his original position. The only thing a non-practiced person could see was a trail of dust that they left behind before Eliot and Cel switched places.
They stood frozen in time for seconds that felt like centuries before Cel’s sword shattered into timber and he fell to the ground. Eliot ran over to help his fallen comrade, worried that he might have put a little more mana than needed in that attack.
While Arcane Stances were made for beings without mana sensitivity to utilize mana, mages could still exploit them. By using mana manipulation to increase the amount of mana that should have been used in the attack, the mage could do much more than a regular person can.
When Eliot arrived where Cel was, he turned him around and checked for injuries. Cel’s shirt was cut open on his left shoulder and there was a thin cut with blood oozing out. After a thorough examination, Eliot sighed in relief that Cel’s worst plight was suffering from mana exhaustion. He quickly scooped up Cel and ushered him to the infirmary, his cut getting infected could be a serious problem. Eliot promised Cel that they would meet tomorrow before he left.
with Cel satisfied, Eliot ran home to spend the rest of the time with his family. They were all slightly devastated that he was leaving home, but did their best not to show it, as they wanted Eliot to have the least amount of regrets leaving home as possible. Eliot knew that he could meet them almost anytime once he mastered the portal spell, but kept that to himself to surprise them.
The night passed quickly and it was soon the day Eliot was marked to leave town. He was at the north edge of the town, where the main trade and travel road was located. He had already said goodbye to most of the acquaintances he had yesterday, so only close friends and family were present to say goodbye before Eliot hitched a ride with a caravan. His family took turns hugging Eliot and saying their goodbyes while Cel and some of the guardsmen were there to give their thanks for Eliot’s help in keeping the peace when it came to spiritual matters.
“Remember, we will always be here for you,” Elizibeth whispered into Eliot’s ear before she left his embrace and stepped back. After his family was done, the guards stepped forward to pat Eliot on the back and give their thanks.
“If you ever end up missing your old town, you can always come back after graduation and start a mage’s guild, making our town into a proper city,” reminded Craig. Over time, people started developing ranks for different human settlements.
A small settlement with mostly wooden buildings and no mage’s guild could only be called a town. To be a proper City, the settlement would need a mage’s guild, a population of at least a thousand, and a guard with at least a hundred members. The settlements' rankings go all the way to metropolis, where they would need a Mage’s Guild, Adventurer’s Guild, Thieves Guild, a religious presence, a population of a few million, a guard with thousands of well trained and equipped members, a proper school and university, be the residence of the monarchy of whatever kingdom it is a part of, and much more. All the regulations and sheer amount of different possibilities made Eliot burst at the seams with giddines.
Craig and the rest of the guard stepped back and Eliot turned to face a red eyed Cel. It was obvious he had been crying, but nobody teased him about it. Eliot and Cel held eye contact, not making any moves for a few scant seconds before they bridged the gap between them and grasped the other’s forearm. They both had smiles on their faces as they exchanged parting words.
“See you later,” said Eliot like he was only leaving for a small amount of time.
Cel nodded with, “Take care.” Soon enough, Eliot was inside one of the caravan’s carriages and the group saw him off. Guards started dispersing when the caravan was a good distance away, and when the caravan could no longer be seen Eliot’s family reluctantly left to their jobs. When they were leaving they told Cel that he was always welcome. He would frequent Eliot’s house and knew his family well, they took care of him whenever the orphanage couldn’t, which was often.
He thanked them and told them that he would visit. Eventually, the sun started dipping below the horizon, and in the orange light, he was still staring in the direction Eliot set off. Since his parents died when he was still a baby, he only remembers living in an orphanage. Most people would struggle to support their own families, so it's easy to imagine that the orphanage didn’t prosper much. Cel could never make friends with anyone except Eliot; everyone else seemed off. The only other person he felt comfortable around was Eliot’s sister, Elizebeth, but Cel never got too close to her because he didn’t want things to get weird with Eliot.
When dusk finally settled, Cel got up with a sigh and tore his eyes from the road for the first time since Eliot left and walked back to the orphanage.