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Opened letters clutter the table and Sol finds the basket of Sunblot oranges next to a bird cage. “Tweet tweet~” She chirps before the bird starts singing. Soothing in a harmonic melody, one of the rarest treasures she has never asked but somehow needed. And all because of the sender of these wonderful gifts, “Whatever she’s got for me now” Her low skipping not being able to hide the big girl’s little girl flapping. A pressed white nightshade is on the letter paper this time. Taking out a dagger and she draws out blood from her thumb, letting a droplet splash it. Thean has always sent magical papers that requires her to draw out blood, not just for the aesthetic appeal with how the letter paper opens itself and seemingly write down the words before her eyes, but also because of a promise that Sol recalls. On an old shore at sunset where they both hugged at a cliff, the sound of the crashing waves below still breezily fresh with the scent of the ocean.
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‘Promise that you’ll still be the same’, Thean would say, and Sol would reply,
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‘Promise, we can do what Dramescula did to send letters to her children. She’d draw out blood to create blood shades on her papers which when licked off by her children, it would reveal the letter’s contents.’
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‘But licking on papers sounds disgusting!’
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‘Then we can just do the opposite! We’d draw our blood which can prove our firm sisterhood, that way, no one can separate us.’
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‘Mmm, you’re right! Let’s do that!’
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And they did for many years and for the many letters cluttered all over her wooden table. It is always interesting with each one of the letters. The first was a dragon drawing that came to life and start writing, from dragons to people, then to abstract forms before this invisible hand. It is impressive how well Thean progressed as well as her handwriting. Gods don’t know if the first letters are written by her or an ant. Now it is properly big and in cursive, she reads:
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“Dearest Sol,
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I hope this letter finds you well, wherever your travels have taken you. Life in the palace has been as dull as rotten apples waiting for roaches to eat them, and I find myself missing your company more with each passing day.
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First of all, let me rant. You wouldn't believe the absurdity I've had to endure lately. Giza, in all her self-righteous glory and stone face, has been hounding me to round up more soldiers as if these men aren’t old enough to boot their dicks in sleeves. She acts to me as if I'm some common shepherd, herding sheep from dawn to dusk. The audacity! And don't even get me started on Rumen. That little brat keeps pestering me for money to fund her bizarre experiments. As if I'm some bottomless treasure chest at her disposal. Gods even don’t know how she is able to make connections with people when I always see her in her rathole.
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But enough about my woes now. I have some exciting news to share with you, my dear friend. I recently received word from a trusted source in Fa'Yore about a most peculiar fruit - Sunblot oranges. They say these golden delights have the power to soothe the mind and ease the burdens of daily life. I know you've been struggling with the endless meditations and medications prescribed by those stuffy palace healers. So, I took the liberty of procuring a basket of these wondrous oranges, just for you. A dozen of the finest, hand-picked by yours truly.
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I hope these Sunblot oranges bring you a measure of peace and clarity, Sol. You deserve so much more than the tedious routines forced upon you. Trust in the power of these fruits, and know that I am always here for you, ready to share in your joys and your sorrows.
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Until we meet again, my dearest friend. May the sparkle of a thousand treasures guide your path. Please, always do wear that gold necklace I gave you. I gave you that, so you should wear it~
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Your ever-loving confidante,
Thean”
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Sunblot oranges huh, these palm sized oranges that is bigger than her singing bird’s entire body. Taking out a knife and starts peeling it off, before reminding of herself that breaktime is over. Sol runs back to the gates, her silver armor cluttering with her steps and her red hair swaying and seen by the bright sunspots of the fort. Its corners are dark with the odor of an old man’s waist. Not that this entire fort is filled by middle aged and one old man. Though from time to time, a passing whiff of dried and fresh blood tickle her nose. Wanting her to clear her throat which sounds intimidating by these ragged slaves and criminals in line which have now extended beyond King’s Road on a low hill.
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“Hoot hoot,” The one-eyed owl flaps to welcome back the gatekeeper “those monsters are at it again, was it right for them to enter even?”
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A question that is rightfully asked, but already far too many times that the gatekeeper sighs. “Anyone who comes to my towers may either be Hemreans, monsters, or something else. As long as they manage to answer my question, it is fine.”
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“Hoot…” it worriedly closes its eyes.
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With how many are lined up, there are some who cannot wait to enter, breaking the order or committing further crime. Rape is fairly common for those who are seen as prostitutes. Children or elderly, if they are part in the line, they huddle around righteous individuals in hopes for protection. Sometimes Sol has to command the archers to fire while on some days, her face smiles and nods at the bold gore and sexual entertainment. It is boring being a gatekeeper. And this twisted entertainment of hers, even she finds it retching. “What did you sin?”
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Asking the same question for the one hundreth rag, “C-c-c-c—c-cc—c-c-c-c---COWARD----Y-YOU!!!” Pointing angrily at Sol, “A c-c-COWARD PRINCESS!” Her eyes expecting fear, heaving her chest as if she is wearing something heavy.
Sol asks the question again
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But this crazy just repeats what she just says before the brutish men come up to grab and drag her by the hair. She screams her pleads before they throw her down to the wet puddles of the marsh perimeter. Giving the archers a fair reason to fire their arrows at the fleeing coward.
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“What did you sin?” Sol did not even bother with that charade and proceeds to ask another woman, whose shorts and legs are trickling with her urine. Fidgeting hands want to take the dagger in her belt but she ultimately flinches it away to the ground, “k-kill-kill-k-kill-kill. Kill the nobles---K—Kill them!” madness in her eyes.
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A putrid scent and sight that the gatekeeper quickly kicks her into the gate like what she did to the poor dwarf earlier—treated like a sack of hay for her legs to stretch before she asks the next one in line. One who seems to be a noble by the look of his undirtied skin and the prostitutes behind him tied to his ropes. “What did you sin?”
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“...Took some delicious year olds, heh.” this pervert even wears nothing below his waist only for the gatekeeper to kick him in the balls. Shade him blue and pale like the cloudy sky. “Y-you…devil…” he folds himself forwards, releasing his hold of the rope which the two prostitutes try to run but ended up being caught in the mendog’s makeshift outdoor brothel. Once again, Sol stretches her legs—targeting between the ass cheeks this time and sending him flying back, while writing the name of this noble on the notepad.
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“What did you sin?” Now she asks to a child whose eyes are foggy
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“...I ran away from home” he says timidly,
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‘…and maybe got caught by a slave hoarder.’ She thinks. Life is not easy for the people who has to confess their sins. Children are no exception when it comes to justice in this charade. Even though she always regrets writing their names under the list of performers. There is no other way quick way than to save them from this hell. If they are strong enough to survive, lucky them but this boy looks barely 12. ‘Destiny is strange.’ She thinks again before the boy speaks,
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“Lady, mother had no tongue to question but she is already inside…”
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Which means that this boy has something to say, or ask. “What is it?”
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“Uhm, pale monster and tall with scary goblin face… why it gone in?” Boldly, or maybe, naively questioning, “Mother, me and many got scared, why?”
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Why, indeed oh why, this question is getting real boring for Sol. Why she let him in, she really wonders what other meaning she has already made up for herself. The one-eyed owl opening its eyes without being asked. As Sol says, “Scared, yes.” nodding in agreement and almost as if answering in a different, lower tone of another voice, “Monsters are scary so why should I not allow them in? Do they have to be not scary. Like those long-gone spirits and sprites? In the capital” Her voice changes back to normal in weary cautious, “—In the capital are no monsters are allowed. The three princesses live there. So where should the monsters go? Some of them can be your friends and maybe ‘save’ your life earlier than others. Why did you even come here…if not for finding a new life, yes?”
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And to her question, the boy draws a blank gaze as if he got scolded. Sol leads him to the dull atmosphere beyond the iron gate, run down houses–some burnt and some completely demolished but nonetheless, people are camping around. Living off what they can find which are mostly mice. The monster who was in earlier has already started his brunch, drinking off blood from the nape of an old lady who cannot scream. The boy looks up, cannot see the familiarity being devoured before him but he can see the silhouette of the monster. He wonders why the archers are not shooting but then the monster turns to his way, running for him in a frenzy as a hungry wolf.
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Hours pass of questioning until the sun reaches peak and the second moon appears behind gray clouds. Chirping birds and morning dew shifted into the howling of chilling and rotten winds blowing from the foggy marsh and within the walls, and underground sewage pipes of and around the fort. Damp ground craves for any feet. With the cracked and uneven walls being lit by running torch wielding soldiers. Mist slowly rising to their knees and the blues and gloom filters them without any exception other than the necklace that is underneath Sol’s armor. Not everyone can see it glinting with an unnatural glitter.
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“Hey” A hooded bulky man in armor walks up from her behind, patting her shoulder, “Would you go and take the dead bodies inside?”
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“No,” She does not bother giving him an eye.
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“I’m the captain personally sent by the High Princess Giza. I’m not asking bitch. get in there and get the bodies out”
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“Still a NO captain” drawling her words, giving attention more to the names of the slaves and criminals than him,
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“I said, go inside!” The captain forcefully pulls her hand, having the notepad and pen drop,
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Her irritated strands of red hair cover her closed. An interested audience behind her before the the one-eyed owl suddenly asks for the two to not fight. But Sol has been itching to and she tackles, pushing the captain in to the camp and smoldering houses. “HEY!” Calling the bloody monster who is still feeding, “DEAL EAT UP CHILD!”
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“Hehehehe~ absolutely milady~” And the creature pounces at the screaming captain who pleads for mercy and forgiveness from the Gods. But the monster tells him, “Your Gods are long dead!”
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The gatekeeper returns to her post, swatting away the grime from her armor, paper and pen. “Next!”
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“What, did you sin?” Breathing in and out. The white ring on her purple iris shrinking to the point that she sees more than just this fat woman is. Name, occupation and age written angrily fast on the paper.
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“Why should I tell you?” She says, drowsily. Her fat chin met with the tip of her blade.
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“Tell me otherwise and I will cut off your head.”
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“…”
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Clopping of hooves canter from within the marsh, piercing the suffocating silence with a golden carriage being drawn by two black horses. A cloaked boy handles the reigns to pierce through and swish the cloudy veil. With the horses rearing against their hind legs as if they are the harbingers of the apocalypse. With red eyes, and a shadowy flare on their fur.
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“First monsters now daemons?” The fat lady says before the gatekeeper saves her lips and blade sheathed.
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Sol walks towards the strange company, raising her hand for the archers to stand at the ready. She notices no armor on the horses, and the boy-driver sighs out so long that it almost looks like he is breathing out thick mist. The twice as large than original horses’ nicker before pawing the mud off their legs. Filigree design dons with the drawing of an amaranth flower. An emblem that she recalls seeing in the history books. Then, she finds herself standing in front of a three-leaf emblem engraved on the door’s cathedral pane panel. It opens, allowing for the ragged crowd to erupt in murmurs, saying that only someone who is related with the Corpus Cathedron and a high officiating noble can have that kind of carriage. Sol has her hand on the hilt of her weapon but the one-eyed owl perches on her shoulders, shaking its head. The door clicks open, and reveals an old man. Stepping himself out for everyone to see his purple robes that touches his ankles. His bare hairy chest contrast against the silver beaded necklace with a ruby heart hang around his firm birch neck.
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“Y—You are…” Sol recognizes him and so does the line of rags.
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“How fair have your years been, little Sol?” His warm cadent voice differs from the wrinkles and scars he holds, like the low bells of the cathedral has rung.
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“L-Lord Magister, Ober…”
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“—Vanderhawk” His sharp silver hawk like eyes saves the girl from potential forgetful embarrassment, “Do you wish for tea?”
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“S---” Sol has her tongue tied, words leaving her dry lips, “Some—uhm…sure,”
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“Good~” Flinging his fingers and a hovering kettle as well as cups serves them both steaming hot tea. “Drink first if it is to your liking”
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Which Sol does not hesitate to drink; she would have one shot it if not for the freshly hot water which contorts her expression to confusion. The one-eyed owl flies away from her shoulder before growing itself to a height that matches the gatekeeper, “My humblest plumes greet you well, lord magister. It must have been a journey to go around the entire continent’s borders.”
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“Indeed!” Ober lets out a hearty chuckle before asking the owl if it wants tea which it politely declines, “How the days have changed when there was once land but now are just islands. It was harsh, really so.”
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“Wha---” Sol tries her words, “What brings you well here, lord magister? Have you finally come to return?”
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“You could say such, but what has become of the western outskirts of our Kinguin? It looks…unmaintained.”
“My company was unsuspecting of your arrival---” She apologizes, “Pardon us lord magister.”
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“Pardon? Good old me should be the one pardoning for what he’s not done.” Ober looks around for a bit, walking and nodding at the line of rags, and finding the ones who are lost in their brothels unsightly. Which he turns for the fort, entering it while at the same time, telling silly stories about bats, and man-sized rats. Which he asks Sol if she encounters them before, which Sol questions if it is because of the state of the fort but Ober brings her back to his own question. “No…” She says, before they hear the crunching of moans and moaning of the ones being drained.
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“Look at that thing” Ober says, looking bewildered at the same time amused, “What is that?”
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“Just a Volkin lord magister…Are you here for inspection?”
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“No, no, I’m just looking around.” Ober flings his finger and the volkin that was about to pounce at him gets flung back against the wall, its bulging belly pushed against so hard that it vomits out its feed. “But I believe you have known right? I’ve asked a letter to request your eldest princess, Giza for your early leave. Has the message not arrived?”
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“Well…” Sol remembers about the captain, and sees his beheaded body on the bloody ground, “No, lord magister”
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Sipping his tea and thinking of a simple word to use, “Disappointing.” Voice laced with the heavy bitterness that Sol gulps and looks away in guilt. “Come, leave your post early”
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“But---”
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“Go with him, Sol” The old man who lives in the fort once again appears to tell her, “If it is the lord magister then you should.”
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“Father Sanguiris!” Ober bows, “Pleasure to meet you sire!”
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“Pleasure all mine milord magister I---I’m afraid I’ve grown fairly old to be walking that far in your embrace milord.”
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“Worry not sire, I will be taking your daughter back to your House.”
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“The mansion? Will she be…”
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“Seeing how gloomy our Kinguin is in my return, I want to propose an idea for all the princesses to hear.”
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“I see, so she will have to now…” the father sighs, lowering his voice as his shoulder slumps,
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“Is there a matter sire?”
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“No! Not at a—”
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“Lord Magister” Sol interrupts, erupting her tone “You’re not telling me to meet with them for a convene?”
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“What!? No, of course not. I know how well you despise two of them. I simply have a task for you all and I wish you to do it back at your House, not to be distracted of your role here as gatekeeper.”
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“Well, take care along the way lord magister, and Sol!” Her father calls out, “Do your best”
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“Like you haven’t said that many a times” she mumbles, “especially when I have to do princessy stuff…”
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Ober notices how the princess suddenly starts acting like a daughter, cute but at the same time strange. “Are you hurt?”
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Which the princess glares daggers at the lord magister, not even knowing her own expression. “He’s grown fond of the fort. He’ll be fine.”
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And the princess and lord magister make their way back to the carriage. Shock to see that the rags are starting to harass the horses and the driver-boy. Sol says that she has to deal with them but then Ober who was standing next to her a second ago, now slap the heads of these naughty rags. Wonder and amazement in her wide eyes. How he managed to be so quick escapes her thoughts as the Ober waves his hand for her to come. “Let me introduce to you my servant first, Isaac Littleheart.”
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“Littleheart?” The name rings a bell in her ear, before she extends out her arm to take Isaac’s little ones. “It does not sound noble” saying without proper thought which the lord magister chuckles and speaks
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“Not all Mairs and Maids are sons and daughters of a servant who have served nobles. Though in the past, it was fairly common. Come in now princess.”
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Sol does so without question. Her hand eager to close the door but then a frail, and bony woman comes up with frantic eyes. “L-Lord Magister! Heard of our ears that…rumors of youthful you, serving the glory…Why…. Why has fate deserved us for this?”
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Ober looks at the young woman with sadness in his eyes, lips forced open with a sigh, “For the betterment of all.” Leaning closer to the woman’s face, “tell your friends down the line. Hold on for I will uphold a festival in Glory’s name. Hold on for those hours and I’m sure you will know by then.” He closes the door before Isaac reigns the horses to ride.
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“Will they really?” asks the princess whose demeanor completely changes as she takes off her armor and tie her wavy red hair to a pony tail. Her purple eyes with white ringed irises shrinking in inspection at the lord magister who responds in his sipping of tea
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“Sometimes, birds must believe the direction of gliding clouds to help themselves discover new lands.”
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The huff of the horses tramples all those who gets in their way, flattening them with an unnatural magic so as the carriage runs undisturbed. Driving down the dirt road---King’s Road, passing by stone forts and wagons carrying more slaves and criminals. Isaac himself, wish only to raise his head and look forward with the horses not going to trample anyone.
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“Bold of me to come out of the scary marsh, correct?” Sipping his tea. The magical cups having a knack for the right amount of water that the tea does not sway out when the carriage heavily shakes.
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“I was half expecting” she answers in a voice differently from being cautious, taking and looking at her half-filled cup. The teaspoon head not fully in the tea before the kettle comes to pour more.
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“And who says who?”
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“…” She sips her tea, asking, “Are you bothered?”
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“I want to speak with the princess, milady” Ober says bluntly, “But there will come a time for you to join in the performance”
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“Heh, performances. You’re a clown” She closes her eyes before Sol blinks them rapidly open, as if she has awoken from a short nap.
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The lord magister swirling his tea and blowing at it though it is already cold. “Last we saw each other was 156 years ago. And now you became a dependable gatekeeper for the outskirts.”
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“I was assigned there.”
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“Oh, you were!? I thought you chose to,”
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“You can say, though I really did not.” Tightening her grip on the cup, “Giza bashed herself to it at the Advisers and the concordant.”
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“Oh, you mean she beat you to it. That does sound like her considering she’s got nothing to do for herself.”
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“Yes…” breathing in and breathing out, toning herself calmly and speaking to the lord magister about the guards at her fort. Sharing her own stories in the past 156 years and questions for the Ober to consider, “Lord Magister, why did you come out of the foggy marsh?”
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“You make it sound like only the dead rises out of there.” Ober nonchalantly replies, “Although true that I can use King’s Road. Isaac simply dislikes going the same path over and over again. Sometimes he even asks me to make the carriage fly. Haha…” Sipping his tea and noticing the princess’s irises staring and shrinking, and Ober leans forward, staring back at her struggling, “What are you looking for exactly? You know that I cannot always satisfy your conclusions.”
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“But---” Once again losing herself from her words,
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And Ober smiles like a knowing father, “I’ve heard this saying from my old days, ‘Go out and touch grass, speak with women’ or someone. It hit me hard and true, allowing me to realize that I can get to know what I want as long as I approach it properly just like how a performer aligns with their perfect role.”
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Sol thinks for a bit before saying, “I know myself, for more than 200 years, I know myself.”
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“And I won’t doubt that you do” sipping his tea, “and I’m not hiding anything. What’s an old man got to hide anyway? Really, nothing~”
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