Reial pouted as he studied the formula scrawled on the board.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple,” Eston said. “You divide the number by a multiple of itself to get your answer.”
“I thought you were a historian!”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be good at math.” The Uvandran man grabbed a piece of chalk from his desk. “Want me to explain how it’s done?”
Reial nodded. His past teachers had always scolded him for never learning fast enough. There wasn’t anything he could do about that; he was just stupid.
“You see, 8 is a multiple of 64, so you add it 8, 8 times. Understand?"
"Is this really required teaching?" Reial asked curiously.
"Your parents are paying me a pretty hefty sum, so...I'd like to think so. Else that university will be pretty mad at the degree I stole."
Reial laughed.
"Well, want to give it a try then?" Eston smiled.
"I don't know. It still looks weird to me."
"Ah, that's just nerves talking. The numbers won't bite. Not unless it's that terrible joke..."
Reial cocked his head. "What joke?"
“Never mind that. Let's count how many times the number can go into the bigger one. You remember how addition works, right?" Eston inquired.
Reial nodded.
"It's almost the same thing, but combined with subtraction. You try to make the number match this one." Eston tapped the 64. "But sometimes, the number will be so odd you'll probably go over it. Never go over it. Always stay under or exactly. Now tell me, how many times does 8 go into 64?"
Reial glanced at the board hesitantly.
"C'mon. If you got a number, say it."
Reial shifted in his seat. It was so obvious, but...it wouldn't be good enough. He'd still be stuck here when he gave him more problems.
"The sooner you finish, the sooner you get to play with her," Eston informed him in a sing-song voice.
Right. It was only a little past noon! They had the rest of the long day to look forward to. If he finished now, they could play in the gardens, then take a brief nap.
Gathering his courage, Reial uttered the answer. "8 times."
“Yup!’ Eston chirped. “You got it.”
Reial let out a soft sigh.
“You know, things always seem more troubling than they appear to be."
Reial frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Life, school, history, science, math. People exaggerate what’s impossible and what they don’t want to do,” Eston said in his typical carefree manner. Other Aunesfernish would’ve called him lax for taking that tone with Reial. Maybe they were right, or maybe not. “Tell me, my dim Exania: Do you truly think the formula impossible, or do you not want to put the effort into answering it?”
Drawn on the board were two sets of numbers, both surrounded by a strange mark on the left side. Something that looked like the symbol for subtraction. In between them was the symbol of division, just like before, but how was he supposed to solve four numbers when they were written like that?
Reial stared at the numbers. “Can I turn in for the day?"
"No, not when you're this close to finishing."
"But I can't do it."
“Can’t, or aren’t willing to?” Eston asked. “You’ve already learned one of the steps to solving it. What says you can’t learn the rest in one day?”
“My brain says.”
Eston laughed. “Yes, our capacity to learn may be limited, but never nowhere near as limited as you believe. Take Rei, for example. They said he had a weak constitution for mathematics, yet he managed an entire realm in his long rule. How do you think he did that?”
“By having others do the work for him?” Reial surmised.
“Well, yes. He had assistants, a council of pneumas to be exact, but most of the work was done by him. Why? Because he persevered no matter how overwhelming it all seemed.”
Reial frowned. Wasn’t there a point when it wasn’t worth it anymore? That it was better to give up than struggle fruitlessly? “But what if you really can’t do it?” He asked. “What if it’s all pointless?”
“You try anyway,” Eston smiled, writing a more simplified version of the fraction on the board, where the mark encompassed both numbers at the same time. What did that mark mean anyways? “Know that you really can’t do it. Know that it isn’t just your mind trying to fool you into believing that you aren’t capable of something. And when you fail…”
Reial leaned in eagerly to listen.
“When you fail,” Eston continued. “You analyze what you’ve done wrong to better understand the situation.”
Reial shifted in his seat. “Failure” wasn’t a word most Aunesfernish liked to hear. In their society, you had to strive higher and higher. Reaching for greatness like Rei himself. Failing meant you had done nothing to grow. That’s what his teachers had told him at least.
“Isn’t it bad to fail?” He asked meekly.
Eston shook his head. “Failure is a mark of growth. It means you’re becoming a better you, even if you feel ashamed or embarrassed by it.”
A better him. Then maybe he could pretend that all his past teachers were wrong. That they weren’t patient or willing enough to let him learn at his own pace. Perhaps he could believe that.
“Now, do you want to give this equation a try?” Eston asked.
Reial nodded. “Yes please.”
----------------------------------------
Blades of grass stirred Reial from his slumber as he came too. As usual, he dreamt of memories rather than a random string of events. He didn’t know why, just that it had always been like this for years now.
Pushing himself up, he got a good look at the plains of Recunda. An endless sea of rolling green hills that stretched for hundreds of miles in either direction. It was difficult to believe that this place and Aunesfern shared a border.
Charette was still asleep, no surprise there. She always did enjoy sleeping in, even if it was noon. A flicker of acknowledgment sparked from his Essence, nudging him to look out over the plains. Remembering what exactly, he didn’t know. Perhaps a battle? A stroll through the countryside, a first love. He’d always wondered if they were prisoners unfortunate enough to be stuck with him.
Mighty heroes and soldiers across the ages, now trapped in his subconscious, barely existing. What did it feel like? Would that happen to him once he was dead too? Or did Vaes and Hyvas truly guide the beings of Veil Striders back to the heavens from whence they originated?
Perhaps this is only temporary. Reial thought. Yes, temporary. Temporary pain, grief, sadness, and anger. If only he could feel that last one flare inside of him so he could scold himself. To make him feel alive and know what it was that he strived for, but he didn’t. He was a failure. A failure as an Aunesfernish man, brother, and son. Would Rei hate him for this?
Reial pushed away from the darkness that threatened to devour him. No, he had to be someone strong right now. Even if he didn’t live up to the example of an Aunesfernish citizen, he had to continue to strive for something greater than himself. Something that would give him some pride or feeling of accomplishment.
“Failure is a mark of growth. It means you’re becoming a better you, even if you feel ashamed or embarrassed by it.” Eston’s words echoed in his mind. Were words capable of holding any true power?
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The distant rumble of a coach was enough to shake him from his thoughts. A distraction was good, it saved him from his thoughts. Even if it wasn’t meant to last, he could allow his mind to wander.
Unlike Aunesfern, Recunda was in a permanent state of calm. The aggravating chirping of birds was instead replaced by the soft buzzing of insects. A change he very much welcomed. Waves of grass rippled across the field as the wind gently brushed the lands. Monuments of stone and iron protruded from the ground, dotting the otherwise barren landscape that could’ve been used for farms.
It was hard to believe the area once hosted one of the bloodiest battles in the Unification Wars. Over a million dead, with a small portion of that being Veil Striders themselves. People on the Sygnal often spoke of how the world used to be populated with Striders. Nowadays, you rarely find one outside of a Remnant. He wondered what those times used to be like.
Charette stirred in her sleeping bag, muttering something about Aunesfern. Their home. Guilt seeped into his heart as he was reminded of his plans. He was being selfless, wasn’t he? She deserved to live a better life, with or without him.
No, thinking about that now would only make it harder on him when it happened. He didn’t want to know what she would think of him, of how distraught she would look when he was gone. Of the potential tears that would spill from those scarlet eyes of hers. Wondering why now of all times, he had chosen to abandon her.
Reial plucked his sword from the spot next to him, admiring the fine white leather of the scabbard. Perfectly crafted, unlike him. Why would Eston give him something he was so undeserving of?
He ran a hand up the smooth white leather, feeling a familiar tingle dance across the palm of his hand. It reminded him of dawn stone, but…different somehow. As if someone were trying to relay a message across the Sygnal.
His hand reached the hilt of the blade, a silvery piece of metal that was protected by a swept guard. He carefully drew the sword from its sheath, unleashing a rippling, formless blade that lapped at the air. Once it was fully exposed, he carefully examined it.
Yes, this was a Weapon of Fervor. A righteous tool in the hands of Striders and heroes alike, which made it even more confusing as to why Eston had given him it. There were no wars, no danger of Reial being drafted into a conflict. Any regular old sword would’ve done him good, albeit with the high risk of it shattering. Something this expensive was baffling.
Reial turned the blade in his hand, watching the blinding, hypnotic edge shift with every passing second. Cosmocury. How was it capable of creating armors and weapons this ethereal?
Did Vaes wonder the same thing centuries ago? Was he equally as impressed when Exania had presented him his weapons? Reial often wondered what they did with the weapons of nameless ancient Striders. They didn’t have them displayed at museums, and for good reason. Unlike Striders Silk, they didn’t need a Strider’s Essence to charge the weapon. Strange that.
An urge struck Reial to march over the hills to the west. He wasn’t sure why, but he presumed it was due to the shards of his Essence. Those Veil Striders were as much a part of him as he was them. The idea of ignoring their suggestions just felt wrong to him.
Reial stood up and Strode to the area, sheathing the blade midstride and buckling the sword belt simultaneously. Being fast did have its benefits. He stopped as soon as he reached the top of a tall hill that overlooked a pocketed landscape. Massive craters stretched across the area for miles on end, some as long as a man was tall, others the size of a small house.
A shard of Essence rejoiced upon the sight. What was there to be happy about? Nothing but destruction lay in his wake. Unless they were happy to have defended what they loved? They were happy that, even if they had died in the battle, they had done what was right. Shouldn’t they have been saddened to revisit this place?
Tufts of grass crowded around the craters as if the land was in the process of healing. It gave life to the otherwise barren soil. Recunda was a land rich with green, which made it even more jarring that entire plots of it were gone.
Strider’s scar. That’s what they called this place, wasn’t it? Reial’s gaze flickered from one crater to the next. Some were connected due to their close proximity. What was it like to see that spectacle in person? The earth tearing from its place with the simple kick of a Strider, sending ordinary men and women flying to their deaths as a battle among gods commenced.
That’s how people in the past had often viewed them anyways. He didn’t understand why though, they could die like any other person. Just not through mundane means.
The truth was, they were still human. They hurt, they cried, they laughed. Striders were as susceptible to emotions as any person, which meant they were equally as skilled at hiding them. Maybe that’s why Charette was frustrated with him. She probably thought he was hiding something from her. Well, she was right, but why bother her with something trifle?
The spark of Essence translated a feeling of acceptance. Reial turned away from the crater pocketed plain and walked back down the hill. It had failed to live a full life yet at the same time, it was grateful for having defended what they cared about. He knew that war wasn’t pretty, that it was destructive, dehumanizing, and miserable, but people still fought. Soldiers on all sides of the conflict should always be remembered for their brave sacrifices.
Sacrifice. The word didn’t sit well with Reial. What cause could he be so passionate about that he would willingly give his life for? He couldn’t even be bothered to save himself from his own thoughts.
He wanted her to live a better life, sure, but that started with him not being around. The same went for Scorch. Wasting these abilities on someone like him was an oversight of the Almagest and the Empyreans.
Reial made his way back to camp, finding his sister still fast asleep. He wished he could be as carefree as her sometimes.
Charette yawned as she roused from her slumber, turning over in her sleeping bag to face him with fresh eyes. “Morning.” She greeted.
Reial arched a brow. “It’s one in the afternoon.”
She shrugged, albeit awkwardly as she was still lying down. “It’s always morning until you have breakfast.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You know I am.” She sat up, looking around. “Where’s Scorch?”
Reial twisted and turned around, finding no traces of the drog. Where was he? “I don’t know.”
Charette scrambled to her feet, peering off into the distant forest, then to the plains that stretched southward. “Scorch?” She called.
The whistling of the wind was her only response. Reial was unnerved by how still the area was. It was like…like what again? He shook his head of those thoughts, and cupped a hand around his mouth.
“Scorch?” Reial called.
Charette ran up the hill they rested on to get a better vantage of the area, but without his Veil Sight, she wouldn’t be able to see all that far. He followed her up, scanning the area. Waves of grass rolled across the land, covering up potential paw marks that could’ve aided them. Scorch was an intelligent animal, but straying this far? It wasn’t like him. Could something have happened to him?
“Scorch!” Charette cried, running across the field. “Scorch, where are you?
Reial Strode back to the tall hill that overlooked Strider’s scar. Could he have gone to play here? Drogs were strange in that manner, that being when they came upon a peculiar location their first instinct was to frolic about in it. These craters would have made for great makeshift slides.
Countless pockets spanned the breadth of miles, causing his eyes to ache as he continued to strain them further and further. Making out every little detail along the way, even ones he didn’t want to see. That was what cursed these eyes. Being able to see everything in front of you at once instead of focusing on one item.
Reial turned away from the scar, Striding back to where Charette was. If Scorch had gone in that direction, he would’ve seen him already. Especially considering how long it would’ve taken to scale those craters.
As he reached the top of the hill that they camped on, he pressed his boots firmly against the earth and launched into the sky with a mighty jump. He couldn’t keep himself in the air for long, not like a Gale Glider could, nor was he equally as fast as them when they did something similar, but it did grant him an unmatched view of the entire vicinity.
With a quick twist of his body, his gaze drifted from the most distant corner of the Aunesfernish forest to a sparkling lake surrounded by a field of white-star lilies. He quickly began his descent as gravity took hold of him. That was the one force that didn’t bend to a Striders will.
Instead of crashing into the prairie grounds like a Glider would, he instead bounced upon contact, his feet growing extraordinarily slippery as the earth hastily adjusted and bent to become a perfect foothold for him. Ruby sparks exploded like firecrackers as he slid across the icy fields, trying to keep himself balanced so he wouldn’t go stumbling and crashing dozens of feet away.
Charette ran up to him, her expression etched with concern. “Did you find him yet?” She inquired.
He shook his head.
Charette glanced over her shoulder, almost as if she hoped doing so would suddenly make Scorch appear out of thin air. “What should we do?”
Reial scratched his head. “We can wait for him to return?” He suggested.
Charette wrinkled her nose. “Okay.”
They reluctantly hiked back to their camping spot. Scorch would return eventually; he always did whether you wanted him to or not. That made him a good drog, and Reial didn’t want to lose him. Not yet.
Is this what mother and father felt like? He thought. Helpless and desperate to get us back? It was a disturbing thought; one he didn’t want to ponder. Else the guilt would become even greater than it already was. That didn’t make him a bad person, did it? He was always thinking of others.
Blades of grass fluttered by in loops as the wind finally coerced them from the earth, sending them off to who knows where. It was all so reluctant. Like him.
Could he really appreciate what he had after all he had been through? Could he not just sit down and be satisfied with where he was? The people who loved him and his faithful companion? Or was he like a blade of grass, going wherever the wind took him?
Charette sighed as she gazed out into the prairie. Her eyes unfocused.
Reial then felt something wet his hand. That was strange. The skies were clear, so how could it possibly be sprinkling? Another drop followed, then a third, and a fourth. Slowly, Reial turned his head to face whatever it was that was causing the wetness. Scorch greeted him with a suppressed yip, his scales glistening with water as he held three fish in his mouth.
“Scorch!” Charette cried, crawling over to him. “Where’ve you been?”
The drog nudged Reial’s hands.
“Do I have to?” Reial asked uneasily.
Scorch nodded.
“No! That’s completely disgusting! I am not going to touch those dead things!”
Scorch stared at him with those large, orange eyes of his, whimpering softly.
Reial groaned and pulled his hand into his jacket sleeve. Using the sleeve as a makeshift glove, he grabbed ahold of the fishes in Scorch’s mouth and held them. The drog yipped, then nudged at Reial’s bag.
“What now?” He asked.
Scorch lied down and made an odd gesture. The only way he could describe it was as if Scorch was trying to clap his paws together and pull something into him. He added sharp clicking sounds with his teeth, and when he finished, he snapped his fangs together as if he were eating. Wait a minute…
“You want us to cook the fish you caught?” Reial asked incredulously.
Scorch nodded.
Reial groaned again. At least the smell wouldn’t stick to his jacket. Thank the Empyreans for those cosmocury fibers. Charette started pulling items out of his bag, including some spices he had brought along in case he had to live off the land.
Why had Scorch gone out of his way to catch fish for them? Sure, Reial did tire of eating those dry fruit bars, but it was enough to get him by. Perhaps it was something different, something he didn’t quite catch. Still, Scorch did go out of his way to catch them dinner, so he should at least show him some appreciation.
Reial smiled, feeling the darkness recede. What a silly drog.