"—Like they really had nothing to do with what we have here," Men’ma explained.

"Oh," Men’ma’s father mused, slightly adjusting the device perched on his nose. "I would have loved to see that with my own two eyes. But your old father is too old for such a long journey."

"Not at all. I’m sure you can hold it just fine," Men’ma refuted.

"Hey, Men’ma, enough, don’t go around giving your old father weird idea."

"I was not."

"I want to go where Tata Men'ma went," suddenly said a child from the table, if one could even call it a table.

"Me too!" chimed in another child of about the same age.

"See what you've done!" Men'ma's mother exclaimed, her tone filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Sitting beside Men'ma, surrounded by her family members, the Rustler attempted to mimic their actions. With bare hands, he brought a crispy roll to his mouth, struggling to find a comfortable position on the tatami mat placed directly on the ground. He observed how effortlessly the others sat, their legs folded neatly beneath them, while he grappled with the unfamiliar posture.

"But seriously, I was really saddened when I came to realize it. Sure there were some large castles, but most of them are very old, generally belonging to a local lord."

"A Raj?"

At that moment, several gazes were cast in the Rustler’s direction but the latter was far too concerned about tasting all the food that was exposed in front of him on the large shared table, once again if one could call that a table, to care.

"Yes, Rajs. That part was accurate, they really do rule the central continent. Of course their system as a whole is messier but they’re surprisingly getting their job done at maintaining peace and power. But still really sorry dad, I figured you would be interested in drawings or even blueprints of one of their most impressive structures, but I found no such thing to actually record."

"It’s nothing, I understand. That being said it’s a shame, I was expecting better from a civilization at least ten times older than ours.

"Perhaps they just forgot to progress," one of Men’ma’s uncle ventured, before bursting into laughter at his own joke.

"It’s most likely that," followed another uncle of hers following the first in laughter.

"Uncle…" Men’ma sighed.

"I guess," Men'ma's father began with a hint of resignation in his voice, "from now on, I'll just have to hope that those from the Northern Continent didn't follow the same path as those from the central continent."

Upon hearing the mention of the Northern Continent in the conversation, the Rustler's attention was instantly torn away from the food in front of him and drawn to the ongoing chat.

"By the way, when you were there did you hear anything about them?"

Men’ma immediately shook her head, "folks of the central continent seem completely clueless about what’s beyond their northern borders."

"Really?"

"Yeah, most actually believe that there’s nothing northern than their northeast provinces aside from roaming monstrosities and empty wasteland dwelled by the latter, they knew little to nothing to the Northern Folk. They didn’t even know about the eight sages."

"I do," the Rustler suddenly inferred, for he knew. All gazes, including Men'ma's, panned over to him.

"You knew about them?" Men’ma asked, clearly not expecting the Rustler’s sudden intervention, or even less his sudden claim.

"Yes," the Rustler nodded. "You’re talking about the sages from beyond the Northern mountains, right?"

She nodded.

Just as there existed a southern continent and a central continent, it is evident that a Northern Continent also existed—a land which, unlike its central counterparts, is far from being as safe due to the presence of various types of roaming monsters across its surface. However, despite this perilous environment, a civilization, nearly as ancient as that of the Central continent, is said to have not only survived but also thrived, according to him.

"Why did you never tell me that you knew about time all time long?"

"You never asked me anything about it, as far as I can remember," the Rustler reminded, for she really never did.

In truth, if she had asked earlier, he would have most likely denied any knowledge of the sages’ existence. However, since the topic of the mages' existence seemed to be a casual one between them, it indicated that the Odoe, or at least Men'ma's family, still retained the memory and knew who the sages were. Despite the potential suspicion surrounding how he acquired this information, he felt no hesitation in sharing at least this knowledge with them.

"It was because I thought you didn’t know about it. I mean you can’t blame no one on the continent who seems to know about them so I assumed it was the same for you."

"That, Men’ma, shows that in spite of the appearance, that meets the eyes," Men’ma’s father remarked to his daughter before, turning his attention to the Rustler himself. "Mister Rustler…wait, Rustler… is that actually your name? Take no offense, I just feel it’s a very unique name."

"That’s… It’s not, but it’s…"

"It’s a nickname," Men’ma explained on his behalf. "That’s what his friends called him."

"Oh, I see. So is it okay to just use that nickname?"

"Yes, at least I think so, right, Rustler?" To which Alexei responded with a nod. "So please just keep calling him that, unless perhaps he presents himself with a new name."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"I see," Men'ma's father mused, still a bit confused by his daughter's intervention but didn’t seem to plan on dwelling long on it. He then proceeded to ask, "So, Mister Rustler, would you mind sharing your knowledge about the Northern continent? Here, on this corner of the world, we have only heard legends of that distant land, so we are curious to learn about it from the perspective of an Arbian born and raised in the Central continent."

***

After dinner, after parting ways from everyone, Men'ma escorted the Rustler across the castle-like structure they called home to his room.

"Tonight has been the most chatty I’ve ever seen you ever."

"You think."

"Yeah. You surprised me back there," she said, nudging on the side. "You should do that more often."

"I’m not. I thought that the subject was interesting so I simply barged in. Do not expect that to happen twice."

"That I could already tell but why do you speak of it as if it were a negative thing? It's wonderful to gather together with others, share food, and engage in meaningful exchanges. Such interaction makes one feel at home. Have you ever experienced such moments with people, with your family, perhaps?"

"I've never," he sternly replied.

"Never?" Men'ma's father pressed.

"Never," he repeated, his mind recalling the days spent in the fortress. The food was simply delivered to him, and he ate alone. While there were interactions back then, they were mostly devoid of meaning. However, he couldn't bring himself to disclose those details to Men'ma.

Thus, he clung to his answer.

"I see," Men’ma concluded, allowing a silence to dawn as they walked. It was only some instant later that she, to jumpstart the discussion, suddenly remarked, "the talk and all put aside, that has also been the first time I have ever seen being that motivated at eating what was in front of you. You’re usually so picky. Was our cooking that good?"

"It wasn’t that."

"So you’re telling us that what we cooked wasn't tasty?"

"That is not what I meant. Ok, there was that and there was also this strange sensation I’ve been having since I made it past that stave of yours."

"What kind of sensation?"

"I don't know... It feels like being in a swaying carriage, but without the actual swaying. There's just this discomfort, an uncomfortable pit in my stomach that only gobbling food down my throat could satisfy," the Rustler explained

Men’ma's brows furrowed, her expression showing a mix of curiosity and realization. "Could it be that you're talking about hunger?"

"Of course, no. I know what hunger feels like... It's like," the Rustler trailed off, struggling to reconcile himself with the sudden realization. "I'm immune to that... I don't need food. I'm immune to hunger, just as I am immune to sleep and aging."

"Is that so," she mused, coming to a halt. "Anyway, this is the room where you'll be staying," she explained, opening a large door that revealed a well-furnished space. "This is one of our finest guest rooms, complete with a spacious terrace boasting a magnificent view of the Odo tree. This will be your room from now on."

"My room, huh? I see," he said, stepping into the room. "Where's yours?"

"Mine? Mine is just on the floor above, why do you ask?" Men'ma replied, her expression suddenly shifting.

"What?" he questioned, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"Could it be that you're asking for something more? Too bad for you, this is still my parents' house. That won't be possible. You'll have to be content with a room of your own."

"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about," he admitted.

"I was just teasing you, but it seems to have flown right above your head. Regardless, for your own safety, I would recommend you stay with my cute little cousins, you Oblivious Philanderer," Men'ma remarked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, forget about it. Anyway, since you don't plan on inviting me to stay over, I'm going back to my room. Unlike you people who don't need sleep, I do. Especially tomorrow when I plan on heading back to the Valkyrie Domain to begin making amends with the Eldest for all that I did wrong," Men’ma explained as she was taking her leave.

"Men’ma," But upon hearing her name being she came to a halt, turning around.

"Yes?"

"You remember mentioning before we rode past the stave that if I were to not feel right, we could still ride together back outside its confines. Do those words of yours still hold true?" he asked, his tone earnest.

"It's a bit late for it, but if you're not feeling well, I guess we won't have much choice. Otherwise... you're not feeling well?" She asked, concern lacing her words.

"I'm fine," he immediately reassured. "But... I have this need to, once in a while, step out of this place and reconnect—or even just catch a brief glimpse—of everything I left outside these walls. It's hard to explain."

"You can still try."

"Sigh… As I said, I can't quite put it into words, but without what I left out there, I feel... I feel..."

"Vulnerable?"

"Yes, but it's more than that, I also feel lonely," the Rustler explained, unconsciously scratching the golden mark on his palm.

"Lonely."

"Yes, I don't expect you to fully understand, but I'm just asking if that offer you made me back then still stands?"

Men'ma remained silent, deep in thought, as she pondered the Rustler's question. "You see, the problem is that we're now in Odo territory, and here you're meant to be under my close watch. Currently, I don't think I have the correct authority to simply escort you back out there," she explained with a hint of frustration. "Moreover, my recent actions have not put me in the best standing. If I were to ignore everything and trespass around, it would only worsen my case. So, on my own, I can't help you directly."

She paused, looking into the Rustler's eyes with determination. "But I can try. I can attempt to gain the Eldest's favor back, so that she'll allow me, her little favorite, to accompany you on your journey outside the staves. It won't be an easy task, and it might take time, but I'll do my best to make it happen. So if you could wait...."

"I’ll wait. Thank you."

"Hey, at least wait for the deed to be done to thank me, you’re trying to guilt trip me or something?"

"… Sorry."

"I was just messing with you. A–ny–way, that’s going to be all for me, I really have to go to sleep, I’m waking up pretty early tomorrow. Godnight," she bid, closing the door behind not even giving the Rustler the chance to bid goodbye back.

He was left there standing on his own, in the middle of the room.

I guess that’s what I get for coming here.

Glancing down at the inscription left by Men'ma's blessing on his palm, he walked up to the aforementioned terrace. True to her boasting, it offered a magnificent view of the golden tree, which shimmered in ethereal light as it bathed under the distinct glow of the two moons.

The sight of him reminded him of all that happened just today, first meeting with Men’ma’s fellow valkyrie, then there were staves, then there was meeting the Eldest, then there was that strange dream.

"Was that even a dream?" he asked himself.

So much was happening, and so many questions swirled in his mind, but he didn't even have the time to process them all. Some answers had come to him, including the one question he had about the thing in his palm, which Men'ma called a blessing, but he understood it was quite not that. In fact it wasn't a power manifested by Odo, but rather a derivative of it. Nevertheless, the truth didn't change the current situation, and there wasn't much he could do about it at this point.

"With that gone, did I get dumber somehow?"

In that very moment, while lost in his thoughts, a warm breeze whistled past him, followed by a sound he hadn't heard escape his mouth in a long time, so much so that he had forgotten what it sounded like. It was a long yawn.

"First that, now this…" he sighed.