The way back through the Backroads was uneventful.

No conversation, no weirdness, and neither of the boys stood talking for too long.

In and out. No monkey business, no oddities. Just straight point to point walking.

Emerging where they had departed from, the path to the command center remained open and as uneventful as when they left. Which was what Zan hoped for since they had departed from the White Chamber, so had they not emerged directly into that chamber, he would have words with the Screen Master.

Walking up the stairs and into the command center’s war room, it seemed surreal to see how one minute they could be in the woods while, in the next, they were back in a hyper-advanced building. It wiggled the mind.

“Welcome back, Ranger-Knights! How was your reconnaissance?” Sigma-Prime asked.

“It went… well, I guess?” Zan asked Jiehong.

“Yeah. It did. A lot of effort, though. We’re not used to hiking so much,” Jie said.

“It will not be long before you both bristle with form of muscle and spirit. I promise you both,” the Screen Master said, “if nothing else, your work for the order will keep your bodies sharp, in shape, and ready for more.”

“We bet! We have an issue, however. Bodies aside, we need a translator. The entity over in the structure in the woods gave us a list of locations and — wait! Sorry, I need to catch you two up with what happened. Give me a minute to catch my breath!” Zan said.

Explaining to the Wardens their encounter, how Mac confirmed for them details of the hitherto hidden structure, and how the local system, as Mac called it, were not under their sway. Zan showed them the list of locations written in the old tongue. He asked them for help in translating.

“Unfortunately, the being you call ‘Mac’ does not differ from Sigma-Prime and myself. You and your people, your community and Jiehong, and us, Sigma-Prime and myself, can communicate because of our tongue’s verbiage remaining unchanged. But just as Mac said, the written word is another matter. The written word changed. And because of the same people who built Mac programmed Sigma-Prime and myself, our capabilities do not differ from his own. My recommendation would be to search out a language expert in a well-populated civilian center,” Screen Master Simulacrum said.

“That’s the problem, though. The nearest city is over a hilly, messy stretch of ground. The enemy probably controls it by now and there’s no way we have the means to break through. Not unless we’re going to sneak the whole way. Even then! What, we going to sneak some scholar through a war-zone?” Zan replied.

“You make valid points, Zan. Unfortunately, the war binds our hands. Unless you can, by chance, find a local translator, launching an expedition might be the only way to decipher the map.” The Screen Master’s voice echoed through the tiny hall. Zan felt discouraged. Not exactly ‘defeated,’ but like the wind had emptied itself of his sails. He was a captain adrift in the aimless sea.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Jiehong spoke next. He said, “Zan. Let’s take a break. Then we can scour the countryside and meet up again in a day or two.”

“What are we going to do in that time?” Zan said, his voice lacking purpose.

“What else? Look for that translator…”

Closing the door to his room, Zan never felt happier to be alone. How could the day had started so… well, then ended so badly?

Lying down on his bed, Zan removed his shoes and rubbed his feet, already having disposed of his sweaty shirt and pants. He needed to cool down fast.

Luckily for him, the basement level of the command center allowed for the easy flow of chilled air, so he felt the temperature one did on a slightly warmed fall evening.

We woke in a sizzle, made up, sort of, when he healed me, then the rest of the walk was fine. Fine day all around. Then we get back to the command center, speak with the Wardens, and it is like all the hope faded. What the heck happened?!

Zan thought and rethought about the day. And how, somehow, it was only half done. The future still called out to them before the general sleep. Why?

Although Zan considered his circumstance deeply, there was nothing more to his condition, he knew, than mere emotive soreness. That, coupled with physical exertion.

However, or wherever he and Jiehong would end up, neither of them had given up on each other. Not yet! If they had, Zan wouldn’t be thinking about Jiehong right now, just as Jiehong wouldn’t have helped Zan when he injured himself climbing the forest hill.

We’re good… so why am I still thinking about it?

Falling into a little sleep, Zan had another stress dream.

This time, the dream was about a castle. It went up in flames just as Zan was using the loo. Realizing the bricks were burning, melting, even, Zan hurried himself up. He clutched at his britches, intending on bringing them up to his waist, but only tripped over himself, somehow, as he hoisted.

Tumbling, Zan continued to tumble an unusually long time. He tumbled out the door and tumbled down a never-ending staircase, where everyone he knew, plus faces he did not know, laughed riotously at him — HIM, the stupid water closet boy! The little shit who couldn’t even take a crap without embarrassing himself!

Zan woke from his nap at a start.

His heart raged like a damnable war drum.

Looking around him, Zan realized it was only a dream. He was back in his barrack’s chamber. He had never left his barrack’s chamber.

I never left…

Realizing his chin and face were wet, he cleaned himself with the rag he kept by his bedside, and sat in the dark, sideways on his bed, thinking of what the dream meant. I should be happy, Zan told himself. Jiehong is finally taking the initiative with his Ranger-Knight work. He proposed we search the nearby places. Yet I know he is unhappy with me on some level. It’s going to be awhile before we are well again. I know it. Zan sighed, for there was nothing else he could do.

Rising enough and having recovered from his dream to leave his bedroom, the gentle glow of the torches warmed him. He used the toilet, then returned to his chamber. He returned to his chamber not by himself, however. Zan had thought of something while reliving himself: I only feel so low on Jiehong because I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. I’ve only ever had Jie. What if I had someone else?

Before his restroom revelation, Zan would have objected to such a thought. Yeah, what ‘if’ he had someone else to talk to about his life? It is not like he had anyone, especially since all the youth similarly aged to him had left for other villages a couple of years before he and Jie came of age. Thinking on his recent adventures, though. Zan realized something. He did have another person his age to talk with.. they were only unconventional. Plus, the very notion of actually befriending them was absurd.

The more Zan thought about it, though, the more he realized how desperately he wanted another person his age to talk to…

A person like the boy in the ornate room.