Chapitre 3: EXTENSIVE VOYAGE
Two distinct voices, caught in an argument, allowed little room for silence inside the kitchen of a clan head's house. Utilized chiefly as a comfort center for serving food and drinks, the primary kitchen was a resplendent room with separate storage space in the backside and a scullery connected to both. House sparrows sang and sprang on the windowsills just as warm celestial light streaked through the windows and graced the insides and emblazoned the wooden bodies and the vessels of clay, copper, brass, and silver with colorful light. The leaden storage room was packed with sacks mostly stuffed with either fruits or nuts, which wafted a profound yet pleasant aroma capable of madly stirring any—full or empty—stomach into grumbling for a meal. As if to affirm, the rabbits in the hutches set next to the backdoor couldn't stay put, let alone ensconced themselves.
"I don't want dried meat. It's stinkier than my sweat," Lirzod tried to pursue Primera into not adding dried meat in his luggage bag, which he would have to be taking along for the forthcoming journey. "I'd rather prefer fruits to this dried meat." His voice sounded unusual since he conversed with his nose closed.
"Like it or not, Young Master, this lasts longer than your vapid fruits and supplies many more calories as well," Primera retorted as she forcibly yet heartily stuffed meat packets into his bag. "This type of calorie-rich food will help you greatly in the journey. Who knows what kind of eatables will be available on Extensive Voyage..." Despite her efforts, he pulled the meat packets out of the bag and put them aside. She gave him an annoyed look before picking them up and stuffing them back in the luggage bag. Lirzod took them out once more, forcing her to put them back inside the bag. Lirzod did it again, but this time, he hid the packets behind him and didn't let her take them. Notwithstanding her glares, his eyes darted back with an unwavering will and put up a fight.
"Should I put johr[1] instead of that?" she glanced toward the stack of bags full of bread lying near the wall.
"No, no, not that!" Lirzod put forward the meat packet in double-quick time before she even got her hands on the johr packages. "Why are we packing the luggage now when I'll be leaving tomorrow?"
"If we get all the luggage to the port now itself, then you don't have to worry about packing the luggage at the last minute. This way, once we take care of the luggage, you can enjoy the rest of the day."
"Oh, I see. Must be an old folk tradition to get things done a day ahead," Lirzod nodded to himself. "Then how about you pack another bag of almonds to be extra-safe and give face to the old tradition once again?"
"No," Primera indifferently replied, "I have already packed more than enough. You shouldn't make me repeat my words like this. Behave yourself, Young Master."
"Then how about cashews?"
"No."
"Walnuts should do, too."
"No."
"Please, Primera. Let me take some more nuts," he cried as he scrabbled for the rope of hope, trying to scratch her arms with his smooth fingertips.
"No," her gaze was so penetrating she would easily have sealed the mouth of mighty jabbers. What could a boy she brought-up do?
Lirzod's shoulders flailed. "I guess there's a limit to how much you can help your Young Master."
"I'm not falling for your tricks," Primera hard-headedly answered, her gaze, however, darting daggers at him. "If you continue with this, I will cut the almond count further."
Lirzod put his fingers over his mouth and shook his head.
"Good," Primera nodded, with her head in a tilted position.
"At least let him pack a hundred apples," a sweet voice intruded their ears as a girl barged into the room, her face below the eyes hidden by the book, the lower half of her thick long dark braid swinging like a pendulum on the move as she carried on her back a lidded basket full of freshly harvested apples. Even though she just spoke aloud, her voice was still soft, stable, and pleasant enough on the ears it needed no instruments or background music to capture hearts forever. Her large blue eyes were an ocean of grace. She closed the book in her hand, thus revealing a face not just any sculptor would dare to fashion and do justice, not because she was excessively physically attractive but because of the innocence in her clear eyes, the innocuousness in her full-hearted smile, and the allaying wholesomeness her front was endowed with. Her plain baggy scarlet top and long black skirt with minimum floral designs picked up the sincerity of her smile. The barely noticeable mole in the middle area above her blossom-soft lips—on the philtrum—only added to her appeal. Contrary to her small and delicate figure compared to Primera, she facilely carried a thirty-odd kilo basket on her back. "Journey at sea might be tougher than we can imagine. The last thing we'd want is to send him off with food that might potentially upset his stomach." She put the basket down and sat beside Lirzod and looked at him before lightly chuckling. On her right ankle, there was a thin gold anklet with the letters 'VLV' inscribed on it. "So, we should be extremely, no, supremely selective when choosing every item." Even though she was a bit older than Lirzod, her voice sounded like she was still living her little-girl years—above all suspicion, yet one should be careful of her every word to get to know her better as with any child.
"I'm doing just that without you having to tell me," Primera casually replied. "You've never been to the sea, so don't go adding whatever food you want."
"I will do what's necessary," she glanced at Lirzod, her eyes giving away their closeness, "to make Young Master's journey peaceful, at least when it comes to eating. Otherwise, how can he flap his wings and fly high?"
"Yeah, when I flap my wings, my foes lose their feathers!" Lirzod confidently said. "However, I need to eat good food to do that. Otherwise, how can I properly compete with my opponents or even win arguments like these?"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Primera slightly shook her head.
"How can it be stupid?" Duera ardently said. "Among all living things in this world that Young Master knows of, he has no enemies but only friends. Some of those are good-hearted, and some of those aren't. But he will eventually have to face both kinds of friends as foes, so he must be at his full health at all times in order to win no matter who stands up against him!"
A second of silence managed to intrude the space between them.
"He has no enemies in the world? All those who slandered him in the past would feel proud of themselves if they get word of what you're saying," Primera looked at those two for a long few seconds and sighed. "You both are reading too many cock-and-bull stories," she replied in haste as if shoving Lirzod's words aside. "Stop doing that, and open your eyes and see that you don't have wings. And..." she glanced at the book in the blue-eyed girl's hand, and her gaze narrowed at the title 'one stick for all monkeys.' Her eyes squinted further, "Were you multitasking again? I thought I told you to stop reading books when you're working."
"You shouldn't teach a monkey how to climb, Big Sis," she said and giggled, her laughter akin to the sound of a grape falling in milk—short but satisfying to all organs capable of hearing or reacting to sound.
"The monkey and man are not the same. Don't talk like a philosopher just because you read a thousand books," Primera's words cut through the blue-eyed girl's countenance. "That doesn't suit you. Besides, you are a hundred years too young to be preaching me things." She flicked a grape, and it hit Duera's forehead.
"Owwie," she rubbed her forehead. "that hurts." She picked up the grape again and mimicked what Primera had done; however, she miserably failed by a wide margin and ended up hitting Lirzod's face, even though he was sitting right next to her.
Primera got a good laugh out of it. "You can stop proving my words."
The blue-eyed girl could do nothing but pout a little from hearing those words. Even though she didn't say a word, her big eyes gave it all away.
Meanwhile, Lirzod, who was busy observing the quality of the apples, felt somewhat relieved. He tossed the grape into his mouth, then leaned closer and whispered in the blue-eyed girl's ears, "Did you get groundnuts for me?" His lips nearly tickled her ears.
"Duera is sorry, Young Master. Duera sneaked in, but that tigress was inside the home," the blue-eyed girl answered in a low tone as they exchanged stares, and from their first exchange alone, the warm understanding between them was as evident as day. "All I could fetch was a few kilos of these." Her gaze shifted toward the small black cover hanging by her waist.
After a quick inspection, he still seemed somewhat disappointed. "These will only weigh two kilos at best, but thanks anyway."
"No need to mention, Young Master. Though I couldn't get fresh stock, I still made my hopeless father buy a fifty-kilo package last evening itself."
"Oh, that's great!" Lirzod eyes sparkled with delirium, making him almost spring on his buttocks. "I'll be sure to bring you great gifts when I come back. Just wait. Oh, by the way, Primera asked for a Heavenly Spring Lily, but I'll bring one to you, too, Duera."
"Hehe, I'll look forward to that," she rubbed her nose and leaned closer before murmuring. "Just make sure to bring me an extra item than the number you bring to her."
"Sure thing," Lirzod nodded multiple times, fully aware of the eye-squinting of the third person. Knowing it, those two then kept smiling hiddenly.
Lirzod had a smile that could light up a room, but Duera's smile was even capable of lightening up the tension in the room. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that her smile could win over an enemy's heart. However, Primera was having none of it at the moment. She, who was packing the luggage, coldly glanced at them both. (I can hear you both. Besides, quality matters more than quantity.) She sneakily replaced an almonds packet with a johr package in the luggage bag, all the while portraying a subtle sassy smile.
"Oh, by the way, I asked Trirera, but she said she wanted nothing," Duera exposed both of her palms.
"That's too bad," Lirzod squeezed his lips together for a moment. "I guess I'll just bring her something of my own choice then."
"You can do that, but I'm not sure if she'll take it or not."
"If she doesn't take it, I'll just irritate her until she takes it," Lirzod chuckled.
"Hehe, good plan." Duera giggled.
"Good plan?" Primera didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Have you ever seen her give two damns about what you two do?"
"W-Well, we will do what we can," Duera said and poked her lower lip up and outward, trying to pick on her.
Primera snapped her fingers to control the urge from pulling Duera's cheeks till she cried. "Try your best then. I'm not gonna wish good luck, though."
"Humph, keep your useless wishes to yourself!"
Sparks of spleen briefly flew between Primera and Duera, with the latter being the second-highest authorized among clanmaids, only after Primera. Standardly, there were just as many clanmaids as the number of chief families that made up the clan. Unlike Primera, Duera was somewhat petite and thin in an attractive way, but both sported the rare hourglass shape.
Being the top maids of the clan, Primera, Duera, and Trirera only worked for the families of the three clan heads.
"Make sure to add some bananas. Sariyu likes them. Also, add a hundred phoenix fruits… Sariyu, no, I want them," Lirzod pointed his finger at the package that contained the phoenix fruits.
"Hundred?" Primera was startled. "Our clan does make some artificial ones, but still, we are mostly importing them, only a few hundred per season, and you are asking for a hundred of them. If you take that many, what would the kids in school do when they get injured? Stop living on clouds, Young Master."
"But I'm a kid, too," Lirzod blinked innocently.
"No, not anymore. You had your meek day, remember? It means you should start taking on the responsibilities life presents. One of those is learning to respect opinions that don't come from your own mouth, especially when someone else wastes their breath for your sake."
"You are hurting me," the corners of Lirzod's mouth turned down. "At least give my feelings a 'shiver' of respect."
"I'm afraid that this time I can't give you even half a shiver of what you're expecting."
"Then how about a 'pinch' of it?" Duera intervened, making gestures with her fingers. "Just a little of it."
"'Shiver,' or 'pinch,' it's the same," she indifferently replied.
"This is my order," Lirzod made intense eye contact. "I want a hundred phoenix fruits. That's it!"
"Politely rejected," Primera casually tossed aside his words, "I'm sure that even Master Picazo will not allow you to take so many of them. As for Mistress Valli..."
Lirzod's heart skipped a beat upon hearing his mother's name. "Please, please," he came closer and rubbed her chin, and Duera also joined and slowly pulled her cheeks.
"You two..." Primera, though initially showed resistance, later eventually sighed. "Alright, fine. I can agree for 25, but if someone asks, I won't cover up for any of you two."
"F-Fair enough." Lirzod grinned. (I will have left by that time anyway, and they wouldn't punish Duera without hearing details from my end.) He looked at the garden through the open windows.. A chicken just caught a cockroach for breakfast. "Where's Gouse? She didn't come for her first meal yet."
"S-She probably went out to bring a gift for you," Duera said, looking down with a blank expression.
"Geez, she's putting an unnecessary burden on herself." Lirzod bit his lower lip a little, "She knows I won't take her along for such a journey."
Duera stayed silent. Her stomach, however, hardened by the second.
"You know her persistence," Primera said and gave a duping smile.
"You're right." Lirzod sighed. "She was already in an ill temper last night for not bringing her to the party. If I refuse her request again, she might look for a different owner."
Tears leaked out of Duera's eyes while she hid her face, and she could only wipe off the tears.
"Maybe she's sulking in some street," Primera said, coming in between those two.
"You may be right, but I'll just go and check for her once." He searched in and around the house once but couldn't find her. He checked all the favorite spots where she would hide, but that didn't help either. He tried asking the parrots in the garden, but they were too busy teaching their young how to climb up a tree. In the end, he concluded that Gouse wasn't at home and was probably sulking in some street. As Lirzod was about to head outside, he saw Duera taking some of the luggage out. He came and plucked the luggage off her shoulders and carried it all by himself. Though Duera tried to get the luggage back, he refused to let her have things go her way.
"Young Master, you don't have to carry them yourself. Just put them on carts."
"No, let this be the punishment for skipping the defense routine once more."
"You are skipping that again? You can't do that."
"Hehe," Lirzod pointed his finger at the rocky water tub that was a few feet away. "Look there."
When she looked, the hundred-petal pink flower—with thin, half-eaten, blue pollen stems protruding out from the center—floating in the tub caught her eyes immediately. "I-Is that Summer Swamp Smiler?" her hands touched her cheeks. "When did you bring this?" she immediately ran over and gently picked up the flower. It was quite soft, but what silenced her was the sweet fragrance that invaded her nose and purified her from inside out. The moment she lifted it off the water, its rich aroma spread for almost fifty meters, and not only Lirzod's nose twitched, but even Primera, who was inside the storage room, felt a sense of stimulation in her nose. Duera put the flower in her braid; both the blossom and the girl grew appreciably more beauteous than before. The Summer Swamp Smiler had many uses, but it was best known for its ability to heal cold with its fragrance and strengthen one's hair with its touch. Duera came to Lirzod and turned her head forty-five degrees to the side. "How do I look?"
"Like yourself?" Lirzod casually replied.
She squinted her eyes and then quickly slapped his forearm as he was about to touch her braid.
"Ow, I was just kidding. You know that."
"I was also kidding, Young Master. Oh, wait, I almost forgot," she ran back to the entrance, took out something from a cover, then came back in a hurry, holding something special in her hands.
Looking at the fresh carrot with roots and leaves intact, Lirzod's eyes lit up. "Flying Carrot[2]! When did you get it?"
"As I was on my way here from home, a swan was passing by, and… I just got lucky." She smiled in subdued happiness and excitement.
"That's not luck. It chose you. Did you bring it for me?" Lirzod's mouth started to drool, and he tried to bite it.
"Wait!" she brushed the carrot's leaves in his face, causing him to sneeze. "Let's clean it first, and then you can have half."
"Only half?"
"Huh? You are unbelievable! Want me to pinch you?"
"H-Half is just fine. Any more, and I might smell like carrots."
While they were in the courtyard—busy cleaning the carrot with care, albeit with drooling mouths—the inviting sound of a flute reached their ears, making them stop and take a look in the direction of a small hut—built in the courtyard itself—which looked like a hat made out of dried grass was raised on top of four pillars. Picazo was standing in the front and was singing as if calling for something, with Valli playing flute in the background. Soon, Primera joined them without making a sound and played the lute.
"Where are you now, dear cow?
Can you show me a sign through a dove
Or maybe through a meow
Or through other means to wow?
I make a vow
Here and now
To never take a plow
Other than to sow
A seed of love
With your bull somehow.
What do you say, dear cow?
Will you allow
Or will you disavow?
Will you please let me know?
Still and all, I hope your life ends well, Xiao."
Though Picazo was finished with his words, the flute and the lute still entertained umpteen ears, as their waves smoothly traveled far beyond the perimeter walls of the house.
"They are calling for Xiao again," Duera said in haste. "You think she'll come? I think she would've already gone quite a distance by now."
Lirzod simply smiled. Xiao was the name of one of the cows they were raising. She fell in love with a bull named Zhang, so much that she didn't want to be away from him. Whenever Zhang was taken for work, she became dull and often sneaked out of the stable and went looking for Zhang. Regardless of the type of binding, she managed to escape every time, and she had done it enough times she received the title of 'Escape Artist.' She hated whenever she saw Zhang being made to work, and her temper was more like that of a child. She threw tantrums when things didn't go her way. Recently, it had been two days since she had seen Zhang, so she escaped once again. Zhang was sent out of town on business, so Picazo and others feared that Xiao might get lost and may never find her way back home. Also, the world wasn't always so kind to look after a lone cow. That was the reason why they took the time to let the music speak for them.
As the flute and lute dueted in perfect sync, a beautiful cow with brown skin and white spots here and there came sprinting into the house while chewing the cud and foaming at the mouth. "C'mon, girl," Picazo waved his hand. However, instead of coming to him, she headed over to a small water trough and quenched her thirst. Picazo called out a few more times and also wildly gesticulated, but the cow kept her ass pointing his way throughout.
"Pfft," Valli put her fingers on her mouth and did her best to control herself from bursting into laughter.
Picazo felt the taste of top-grade sea salt in his mouth, though not as much as the far-reaching smell of fresh dung that intruded his nose. Regardless, he was quick to give away a grin. "It seems she didn't go too far. Good."
Primera was prompt and sensible as a long-serving herdsman in reaching Xiao and waiting until she finished drinking, then grabbing the rope belt around her neck before taking her back to the stable set next to the small orchard of apples and pears, even though Xiao kept flapping her ears in displeasure. To ease Xiao's mood, Primera offered the flying carrot. After eating it, Xiao calmed down right away and continued to lick her own lips, as though she wanted more.
Meanwhile, totally unaware that the carrot was stolen, Lirzod and Duera headed out into the streets, arguing about who had won the bet. Though Duera had failed in guessing correctly, she didn't accept Lirzod's victory, either, for he hadn't properly replied and had only smiled. However, Lirzod, too, kept arguing that he won because his smile was more than enough of an answer, which only forced Duera to act tough. However, to the passersby, their quarreling was akin to chatty cat and mouse at war, only they couldn't tell who portrayed which role.
"Wait, where's the flying carrot?" Lirzod suddenly asked.
"Eh?" Duera was stunned and checked herself. "I'm sure I was holding it in my hands."
"Did you eat it?" Lirzod came closer and sniffed her mouth.
"Stop sniffing like Gouse!" she pushed him away with her shoulder. "I couldn't possibly have finished it so quickly. I was planning on eating that half in a thousand bites!" she kept checking her clothes and bag. "Where in the world did I put it?"
Lirzod could only press his lips together.
Meanwhile, at Pudota's family house, the crest of golden crab stood out on dresses worn by workers currently busy doing their daily chores. In the entire Garish street, the location near their home was where most transactions thrived. Businesses of all sorts—from food products to fabrics and all kinds of infrastructure—took place in the street, keeping the area busy for much of the day. However, right in front of Allda's house, there was an old, small, and empty house covered in dust and was surrounded by six different trees, the leaves of which no longer shined to their fullest. A scurry of squirrels were running up and down those trees. Other than that small spot, the rest of the street was pretty clean and colorful, thanks to the showy paints on the walls.
On the lawn of Allda's house, not just humans but squirrels also worked together with them. They helped break different varieties of nuts out of the shells and stacked them in basins, whereas the human workers packed those nuts in finely woven bags. The glaring difference was that unlike the tailless workers, most squirrels were chubby. Experienced squirrels worked together and carried the bags in groups. It would be a wonder if an outsider, visiting the town for the first time, were to watch this incident and not be left in wonderment.
For the moment, Allda Pudota was resting sideways on his swinging bed with Pentera blowing a worn-out fan for him. "There's no movement in the winds today." He unfastened a couple of his shirt buttons and tried to welcome as much air onto the skin as possible. Sweat still dripped down the forehead from under his oily hair. "I guess I'll smoke once the winds cool down a bit. I can't feel much air coming from your side, Pentera. Wave it harder!"
"I'm sorry, Master, but I'm already doing my best," Pentera raised her eyebrows. Due to the reason that she had a shower only minutes ago, her long orange hair now danced even to the faintest winds—most of which came from the fan—and gleamed as bright as the morning sun, making her appear a lot more beguiling. It wouldn't be an understatement to say that her presence alone brought sunshine to the lawn, for she was such an overtly ensnaring stunner. Her hand movements, as refined as the tail language of a venerable dog, showcased her ample experience in this field of work. "Master, this fan is four years older than me. It's time, we—"
"Enough," Allda raised his voice, startling some squirrel babies playing in the distance. "That fan is not just any fan, fool. It's my lucky fan. Other than my family, you are the only person I gave the privilege to touch it. So, stop sulking over it and do as I say."
"Yes," she pouted. Every day, most people passing by the house would chuckle at her for using a fan such as that. Even some poor fellows she had seen were using better fans than the one in her hands right now. (This fan is older than me, and it must be twenty-three years old if I'm correct. Even his favorite pet squirrels long died, but this damn thing is still going. When will I get to hold another fan other than this awful one?) Wearing homely clothes, she appeared appealing, thanks to her crystalline brown eyes and oval face. She was the clanmaid especially known for her polished nails and decorated hands, which she always looked after with great care. She might forget to comb her hair every day, but she wouldn't forget to polish her nails, not even a single day. In the past, Allda himself compelled her to change that habit of hers, but his words weren't effective in the long run of things. Even now, the reason Allda felt hot was not entirely because of the less wind blowing around but also because Pentera was blowing the fan mostly to herself and only sparingly to her master.
A fat blue-haired boy, holding two small bags full of sweet potatoes and chips, swaggered in from the main entrance, "Dad, is it true that Scarface dared to take the test?"
"Yeah, but... in which hole were you living all this while?" Allda barked and then shook his head in distress. "Both of you are only one year apart in age, and you are more intelligent than that brat, but because of your piggy appearance, I couldn't even ask the clan leaders to consider a ticket for you, Tarqa." He ground his teeth as he sat upright. "This time, the news came out of the blue. If only I knew it beforehand, I would have at least made you sweat all that excess fat in time." He glanced at his son, who, at the moment, was in the middle of putting a potato chip in his mouth.
Tarqa didn't dare eat that chip and hid his hands behind his back instead.
"Where were you till now?" Allda's voice turned bitterly cold, and the slight shift in his tone forced out sweat from his son's skin. "And what were you doing?"
"I-I was just playing with Sasha." He lightly clenched his fists. (I didn't even get to spend much time with her as some scoundrel of a client bought the time of all the lasses for two days straight. Now, Sasha is probably with him again.) He looked at the bruise on his forearm that resulted from challenging that client for his girl. (If only I was stronger, I could have beaten the likes of him and freed my Sasha for good. But, currently, I'm useless.) He looked at his dad. (And you keep blaming me when I just got this physique from your genes, Dad. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself first.)
"That hooker again? She's twice as old as you," Allda knitted his brows, "I've told you many times to not waste your time with her. I've also told you not to go anywhere near Helenport, let alone the cathouse in there."
"I'm not stupid enough to listen to all of her requests, Dad," Tarqa respectfully said. "I'm just enthralled by her charm, that's all."
"That charm itself can swallow all of our assets if you aren't careful, you fool!" Allda lit up a cigar using the burning end of a ripe and took a couple of whiffs before resuming, "Since you're my only son, all of my wealth will be yours one day. But if you keep buying things for hookers, there will come a time when I'll kick you out myself and adopt a squirrel instead."
"I won't let that situation befall me," he knelt, with a frown on his face. "I, Tarqa, promises that I will become the first martial child of our clan."
"Oh," a surge of pride filled Allda's heart, increasing its size a bit. He stood and approached his son. "Is this another one of your baseless claims, or..."
"I recently met with a member of the Hollowford clan," Tarqa pulled out a green card from inside a gap between his shirt buttons.
"Is that..." Allda's eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed hold of the card and took a closer look. After reading what's painted on it, his eyes turned rounder. "The entrance card of the Shatterfist Sect. Wasn't it ranked around two thousand and five hundred?" he looked down at Tarqa in bewilderment.
"A little lower than that."
"H-How in the world did you get your hands on this thing?" Allda eyed his son with an incredulous stare. If he had wanted, he would have bought an entrance card to a better sect, but he wasn't confident enough in his son to even waste a copper piece for that. Now, seeing his slothful son pull out the card of a decently reputable sect, he found it hard to describe the sensation swelling up his chest.
"Through a friend," a puffed-up feeling made Tarqa take a wide stance as he answered.
"Friend? Is he trustworthy?" Allda couldn't help but probe further.
"For now, yes," Tarqa replied straight away with a niggling hesitation. "He's a capable martialing who just happened to owe me. I think he'll make a great friend, at least for the time being, Dad."
Upon discerning the confidence coming out of his son's tongue, a capricious smile occupied Allda's face, and he curled his arms around Tarqa's legs and lifted him off the ground. "Hahaha! Though it's hard to believe that you managed to make a martialing owe you… Why didn't you tell me this sooner, son?"
"I was just waiting for the right time," Tarqa said and showered back a smile of a similar wavelength. He didn't expect his old man to lift him so casually. Clearly, someone was hiding their raw strength.
Jubilation permeated his body and so reflected in his tone right away. "So you were on the money all this time, hahaha!"
After hearing that the entrance tickets the clan heads procured were of Shambala Sect, Allda couldn't help but feel down at the time, for not only was his son not among the ones who could give the sect test a try but also his son was not around when such an important event was taking place. Though he didn't show his feelings directly, Allda always wanted his smiles to come from the sight of his son.
This moment was probably the first time when Allda felt confident that even if his son got stranded on some god-forbidden land, he would somehow find his way back home.
"Haha, you're finally leaving your old self and stepping into a new world, son," Allda chortled as he put his son down and took a deep breath, which turned his eyes sharp. "As a merchant, there is only one thing I can tell you. Spare no room for despair in your heart." His clenched hand lightly tapped Tarqa's chest. "Because you're my son, you don't know much about the outside world. Regardless of the times, always stay on guard and refuse to be reduced to nothing."
"Yes, Dad. I will prove to you that I can live on my two legs and thrive in life."
"Hm, living in itself isn't hard, son," Allda patted on Tarqa's shoulder, his unblinking eyes evincing worldly experience. "Living without having to breathe hard is what's truly hard. But you're my son, and today I realized one thing. A father knows not the depth of his son until the moment his son opens up. Now that you've proven your capability, I feel like I no longer need to persuade you to do what's good for you. I'll let you decide that by yourself from here on, so don't disappoint me."
"I will do my best, Dad. You don't worry about a thing," Tarqa stepped past his father as impertinence played a smile of its kind on his thick lips.
"You've done great, Young Master. I'm quite proud of you," Pentera, who had been patiently waiting, was now in a frenzy of delight. "Now, for sure, you will climb far too high on the Martial Chain for that Barebutt to ever catch you. You will also become the most popular guy in the clan. There will be no looking back for you." She could barely control herself from blowing a kiss on Tarqa's cheek.
"Hm-hu, you are spot on, Panty," Tarqa's nose appeared to have grown so large in the past few seconds that it wouldn't be a surprise if people mistook him as someone suffering from cold for a decade. Placing the hands on his waist, he laughed aloud.
"Young Master!" Pentera suddenly fumed. "Don't call me by that name in front of the workers!"
"Haha, alright. I couldn't help it because of this strangely good feeling that's flowing through my chest right now." He continued to laugh again.
"That's good to hear," Pentera said, "but aside from all that—when's the party, Young Master?"
Tarqa's shoulders jerked, and his laughter hit a sudden break. He glanced at her and could only sigh. "You and your fetish for parties... When will you stop lusting over them?"
"I beseech you, Young Master—if you ask me, I'd say this is the biggest occasion of your life," Pentera's fruity voice was pleasant, and at the same time, possessive. "How do you think our family will look if we didn't throw at least half as grand a party as the one the clan heads threw last night? I'm sure this gesture will keep the Pudota family in good graces of those we should."
Tarqa's heart skipped a few beats. His heart raced as he slowly turned his head and looked at his father.
"Haha, fine. I'm in a good mood," Allda appeared to be in the seventh heaven, for he had also forgotten to take a whiff from the cigar ever since he heard the good news. "Let's have it tomorrow night."
Pentera was almost blissed out from hearing that. She already started imagining all the gifts she could demand from the female guests in her circle.
Tarqa stared into the distance, seemingly toward the moving clouds as he clenched his fists. "I'm gonna surpass everyone's imagination for sure." He took a deep breath, calming himself before a whimsical smile warped his mien. "I can't wait to see Scarface react when he hears the news of me getting an entrance ticket to such a high ranked sect," he came to Pentera and plucked the fan out of her hands. He blew air at himself, his fan-waving skill as unrefined as the tail language of a whelp.
The beam on Allda's face instantly vanished. "Son..." The light in his eyes faded away as he stared down at the ground.
"Hmm?" Tarqa just became conscious of the fact that something was off. His father, who should be so satisfied and be walking on air after hearing the news, acted otherwise—a lot more reservedly than he was looking forward to, and he couldn't get his head around the reason that could realize such a thing.
"Regarding the chosen sect of this year..." Beads of sweat fought for a place on Allda's forehead, and his voice now turned brittle. "Do you not know what it is?"
"Oh, yeah," Tarqa nodded to himself multiple times in a smooth fashion. "I entirely forgot about that, but, no, I was busy with, you know, ahem, I've already told you, Dad." He made an awkward expression as he continued, "So... Which sect's name did they announce? I'm sure it's a little lower than three thousand in the rankings. Is it the Bronzebow Sect, or the Eyeslinger Sect, maybe?"
"Son, the name of the sect is..." Extra blood rushed to Allda's double chin, for he felt it tough to talk about it. (How should I say it?) He struggled on the inside.
"C'mon, Dad, why are you taking this long to spit a word?" Tarqa raised his brows but got no response. "Don't tell me, you don't even remember the name they announced?" he snickered with less restraint, deepening the frown on Allda's face, thereby making him look like a gorilla suffering from constipation. "Have they chosen such a 'bottom of the pile' sect this time?" Tarqa placed his hands on the waist and gleefully laughed, puncturing through Allda's eardrums for the second time with his infelicitous fits. "The clan heads are much stingier than I thought."
"No, son," Allda turned away, unable to show his face to Tarqa. "They chose something that the likes of us can never dare to choose." His face grew solemn, and his voice turned low and rough while Tarqa's expression turned a bit weary, "This year's chosen sect is... the Shambala Sect."
Tarqa's face froze, and the parcels of potatoes and chips that had been dangling between his fingers now slipped and fell. Pentera quickly ordered one worker to pick up the potatoes and chips that had fallen out. "W-What... Say that again."
"You heard it right, son," Allda's voice was husky as though his throat had gone sore.
Tarqa's brain buzzed with a nasty fright that defiled his mettle. "You mean, the... THE SHAMBALA SECT, the illustrious sect whose name has spread across many realms?" His shrill voice startled all the nearby squirrels.
A few seconds of stillness let the wind take charge in the space between the father and his son.
"Yes." In recent years, Allda's face never turned ashen to such an extent as it did at the moment. It took him a lot of effort to force his throat to spew out a single word that held the immeasurable weight of an unforeseen act behind it.
Though the weather was clear, Tarqa felt as if lightning crashed on the crown of his head when that single world had flown into his face. "C-C'mon, Dad, if you are joking, then please spare me!"
Allda didn't speak, or rather, he couldn't.
Tarqa took a look at Pentera, and she nodded ever so slightly. "What Master said is true, Young Master."
"This..." Though Pentera's lightly-stressed voice fiddled with the winds, Tarqa felt a thundering sound reverberate in his ears. "It can't be true. There's just no way it can be true." He looked at his father, but the lack of response only forced him to reconsider. "H-How, how can they..." He almost pulled his hair. All his recent efforts seemed worth less than some of the most worthless struggles after everything he had heard.
Allda, who was still facing away from Tarqa, steeled his heart and placed his arms on his back. "It is true, and we must digest it all by ourselves." Even though his heart ached, there was nothing he could do at this point.
"This..." Tarqa's eyes enlarged further to the point they began to throb. He stood on his toes and seemed so fragile to the extent that the wind could sway him around. "This is partiality!" the burning sensation in his stomach twisted his intestines, which made his hands move apart, and that led to the fan in his hands getting torn. "Who don't I get such partiality and preference shown by the clan heads?" he almost lost his balance and fell sideways.
Allda turned back at full tilt and grabbed hold of his son. "Tarqa, I know it hurts, but worry not." He made his falling son stand stiff and straight before looking right into his eyes. "Be calm and think once. It's improbable for those three to pass the entrance test of the Shambala Sect. If they don't return, at least one of the clan heads' positions is likely to change heads, then one of those positions will either come to your father or Syam, hoping that Fidelis wouldn't get in our way. If you did something worth noting in the entrance test of the Shatterfist Sect, then I will, without a doubt, become a clan head if not the clan head."
"That's right," Tarqa tried to reassure himself. "There's just no way Scarface can return in one piece from a supreme sect's test. Though I don't want him to die there like a dog, I can't help when his parents themselves made his fate certain. Everything is progressing quite faster than how I wanted."
"It is, but trust me, and have faith... only good days are ahead of us!" Allda's voice was tremulous, but he still laughed.
Pentera had signaled the worker to have the potatoes and the chips before walking toward Tarqa, but then her eyes lay on the torn fan. Her heart sprang to her throat and almost escaped out through her mouth as her gaze locked at Tarqa, who also was in fright after just noticing what had happened, and he hid the fan behind his back in haste.
"Oh, no!" Pentera cried out in reflex but covered her mouth just as fast.
"Mm?" Allda turned his head toward Pentera when the sudden movement of Tarqa's hand attracted Allda's attention. His eyes scanned them both for a couple of seconds. "Is everything on the money?"
"Y-Yes, Dad. Everything's on the money." His body trembled like the tail of a scared kitten, and the sudden spike of fright gripped his gut. If fear had a face, its favorite expression would be the one Tarqa made right now. "Everything's just fine." He closed his eyes and endeavored to forge a smile.
"Yes, Master Allda," Pentera also voiced from her end.
"Everything is fine, huh..." Allda raised one of his brows. "Really?"
"Yes, Dad," Tarqa responded fast, but his knees were no longer under full control. (Crap, I'm done for.)
"Something's not right." Allda's eyes darted straight toward Tarqa's hand that concealed something out of Allda's view. "What are you hiding?"
"H-Hiding?" Tarqa's face metamorphosed into that of a mongoose. "Hiding what, Dad?"
"Whatever that's in your hands," Allda narrowed his eyes. "Why did you put them behind your back?"
Terror washed through Tarqa. "I-I'm not hiding anything."
"Show me what's in your hands," Allda's voice turned a bit sharp, but it was enough to bite through whatever hope lingered in his son's heart.
Tarqa's heart then sank into the stomach and struggled to stay afloat in the juices. "I-I'm just holding potatoes, Dad."
"Potatoes?" Allda shot a glance at the female worker who was leaving with the bags that held potatoes and chips. "She's holding those potatoes. Heh, it's not easy for anyone to fool your father with ease. Now you've just raised my interest even more. Just what are you hiding there, son? Enough of this 'keeping me off the money' play, and show me that thing you are trying so hard to put out of my sight."
"T-That's..." Sweat had long soaked the skin on Tarqa's face and neck, and his heart was on the verge of drowning in the gastric juices.
"Master, it's time for breakfast," Pentera stepped closer to Allda. "Let's not waste our time here anymore. Also, you won't eat if the food goes cold."
Allda raised his hand, stopping her in her mid-stride. "The food can wait." His gaze didn't shift a degree and locked inquisitively on his son. "First, let me see what he's holding."
Pentera frowned. (Dammit. Master's the type who can keep good news waiting for a week but doesn't keep bad news waiting for even a second. Now that he's realized something's wrong, he's not gonna blink until he gets to the end of it.)
Allda's breathing became a little audible as he looked at his son. (It better be something not related to that swine, 'Silver Pin' Sasha.) Controlling his welling aggravation, he came to Tarqa and put his hand behind him, and softly pulled what was in his hands. But what came out the next moment—the fan that almost got split in two and suspended in the air as such—shook his entire being to the core. A strange pain sank his heart all the way to the stomach and forced its way down further through the intestines and beyond. He limply fell to the ground, startling everyone. "My dear fan..." All the pleasantness in his face evaporated, and his voice turned sad, but he soon glared at Tarqa with whitened visage. "You imbecile!" He got back to his feet, and with a wave of his hand, he slapped Tarqa so hard that his head twisted, and even the neck muscles made popping sounds. Allda himself felt significant pain in his hand, but the gushing rage—brought forth by the boiling blood—blinded him from what otherwise would have bothered him had he been in a quotidian mood.
It was a slap that made every worker in the house stop whatever they were doing except for the squirrels, which just continued their work as if nothing worth noting had happened.
"What have you done!" Allda barked so hard that he even scared Pentera.
When Tarqa looked back at his father, tears welled up in his eyes, and his cheek turned blood-red. "I'm sorry..."
"Get lost from my face, you good-for-nothing fathead!" Allda roared at the top of his lungs.
Tarqa's face reddened further, and his crying only intensified as he turned back and ran out of the home, his heart growing harder and heavier by the second.
"My precious fan… Damn you, Tarqa. I'll never forgive you for this!" Allda wasted no time and walked into the house, "I hope this can be stitched to make it look new."
Pentera followed him inside at her own pace. (Thank God, that worthless fan finally got its end date fixed, or should I say, 'Thank Tarqa.' maybe?) She began to laugh a little on the inside.
Meanwhile, at the Yerram family's main house, things seemed rather calm. The neighboring streets made not much of a noise, not counting the chirping of birds and the fish playing in the lotus pool.
Syam, however, was silently fuming from indignation. "They didn't heed my advice. Do those three little fools think they can ease through the sect test? That thought itself would be the joke of the millennium."
A fifteen-year-old pink-haired girl, Megha, stepped out of her house and paced toward her father, who was sitting in the shade of a neem tree. Though she wore clothes that were easy on the eyes and didn't stand out, she looked as salubrious as Spring itself. She was so healthy that the pinkish glow subtly appeared everywhere over her pale skin—face, hands, legs, chest, neck, and shoulders. Even rabbits might envy the natural sheen her skin had. "Papa, I don't get why you stay in this clan and work so hard when you don't like its ways."
"Little Cloud..." Syam glanced at his daughter, who sat beside him, "You are too young to know the ways of the world." His eyes were brimming with love and knowledge at the same time.
"But I'm old enough to see lots of things, papa," her voice was filled with a sense of urgency. "I have never liked how our Faceless clan didn't bother to compete for rankings and only cared more about prosperity through grinding simple things such as education and self-defense, both of which are over-burdening, to be honest. And I don't get why we do long-distance trading even when it's proven troublesome for a gazillion reasons. I feel like we are unnecessarily complicating things for ourselves, which we could have easily avoided with little prudence.
"Our clan's rank is already lingering at the rock bottom. If our ranking stoops even lower, won't that affect our trades in the long run? When the current long-term trade bonds finish their term in five or ten years, what would happen afterward? Our clan is sure to get broken into pieces, but now we don't even have that much time because of this year's sect test. If something bad were to happen to the children of clan heads during the journey—it will be detrimental to all of our careers if not our reputation. I don't even want to imagine what happens to our clan afterward. I feel it would be better to leave the clan before it falls in turmoil."
Syam leaked out a knowing smile. "I have already considered all of that and much more, but you can't hurry certain affairs, Little Cloud," he looked up into the distant skies, squinting his eyes. "First of all, I should find out how the clan heads managed to get the entry cards for the sect test of Shambala Sect." His facial features hardened a bit. (Knowing that might open new gates and let me see beyond the clouds.)
"I got scared stiff when I heard their announcement," Megha said and laughed, but she quickly tried to contain herself. "Although, I'm glad I'm not the one participating," her laughter slowly subsided, "I hope they at least don't get themselves killed. Our clan won't be in as bad a spot it would otherwise be in." She subconsciously touched her lips, and her eyes suddenly flashed out intense abhorrence. (More than all, I hope someone teaches that 'Love Tongue' Lirzod a good lesson.)
"Little Cloud," Syam placed his hand over her head and gently caressed her. "I know that you have no interest in becoming a Martial Child, but Martial Way is the Way of the World. Not only does it bring fame and riches, but it also lets you explore the endless mysteries that bound all existence. Only some people get to experience such a journey, much less endure and do enough to be remembered in the hearts of the coming generations. On the other hand, if you stay here, you may own our household, but what's that, when compared to the freedom and the grand adventure you can have if you were to be a martial?
"Though I'm not a martial, I'm saying this from my experience as a hollow. The difference between a hollow and a martial is like the difference between a frog that lives in a well and a frog that lives in the ocean. Both are frogs, but their lives are nowhere near equally adventurous. The frog that lives in a well only has to adapt to the well it lives in, but the one that lives in the ocean has to adapt to the whole ocean. It's plain to ascertain which frog can endeavor better when survival is at stake. It's the same with us hollows and martials."
"But, papa, didn't Godrick say that martials are not above hollows?" Megha couldn't help but voice her mind. "Didn't he say that the Martial Way may be the Way of the World but not necessarily the Way of God?"
Syam frowned a little. "I'm nowhere near as knowledgeable as the Father of Martials, but you shouldn't follow his words blindly."
"I'm not that silly, papa." Megha smiled a little. "I'm just weighing things, that's all."
"Then, it's all good." Syam sighed a little. "I get it that you want to stay as a hollow, but I, as a fellow hollow myself, from many years, all I did was sculpt the rocks that clients brought to me. Though I wanted to explore the world, I was already in my thirties by the time I officially became an apprentice at sculpting and was already married. I just couldn't abandon your mother and go off on a journey from which I might never return. But look at what happened. Soon after you were born, your mother..." His face turned miserable and lost most of its glow.
"Papa..." Megha paused for a moment, her expression seeming out of sorts. "Mama left us to become a martial, but she was returning home. If only she hadn't gotten herself involved with fighting the robbers, she would have been with us here and now. I was only a little girl back then, but I still remember how angry and hurt you were when that happened." She held his hand and gently pressed it. "Mama may not be here with you, but I'm still here. We are each other's family. I don't want to leave you and go elsewhere. This world may be endless, but you are the world to me..."
"Megha..." Syam was full of tears as he hugged her. "To me, your existence is as scarce as hen's teeth."
As those two shed tears under the neem tree, a breathtaking blonde dressed in green observed them from the front door of their house, and her visage showcased an expression too subtle and complex to discern even by her closest friends.
Meanwhile, outside the doorstep of an earthen hut on the southern side of the mountain, Burton was leaning on the door, with his hands folded. "You've let him escape..." he wore a disappointed look. "What if he comes back with a gang, or worse, an army?"
In the kitchen, an olive-skinned woman was making vegetable salad in a clay pot, and she was all sweaty from cutting wood. "The horse was poisoned. I had to choose between him and the horse. I don't know what you would have done if you were in my shoes, but I just couldn't let the poor thing die. As for whether or not he brings an army to our clan's doorstep, that's all up to fate, at this point."
"Screw fate! You may be okay with spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, but I'm not, definitely not when the matter concerns our clan," Burton sounded irked. "Your mistake may come and bite us all hard, later on, you know."
"What do you want me to do? I've already chopped thirty trees as punishment, and if you want, I'll cut down some more," she replied a bit spitefully, "though that doesn't change what happened."
"Che, you could have gone after him right after the horse died," Burton said and started walking away. "Now we know nothing about the guy or his motivations."
"You know that I can't cross mountains. Job restrictions and all," her voice sounded out, "but a free bird sure can. It's been a day, but anybody beaten to the bone couldn't have gone far. It won't take much flying to the west to get there."
Burton faintly smiled and kept walking.
"It's been months since your last visit. Don't you want to at least taste the salad?" she asked aloud because she was still inside the house, so they weren't in each other's sight.
"Maybe next time," Burton didn't even look back. "So long, Quadrera."
"You, too... Young Master. Do yourself a favor and pass with flying colors this time," she said and slurped some salad to check the taste, then nodded twice.
"Failing ten times wasn't fun," Burton replied and then muttered under his breath. "There isn't gonna be an eleventh, though." As he was walking away, he came across a large flock of sheep spread out on the mountain slopes, grazing freely on the fresh grass, with Woo keeping watch on them from a clifftop. The upwind brought it two distinct smells; one was that of the herons wading through shallow waters a mile away, and the other was that of a familiar person. Woo soon stood and speedily scuttled in Burton's direction. "I'm not in the mood for games right now," Burton picked up a stone and threw it just as the wolf closed in. The wolf suddenly changed its path and chased the rolling stone. Soon, the sheep, too, started following the wolf one by one and ran down the slope together. By the time Woo had caught the stone, Burton was nowhere to be seen, and it was already surrounded by tens of baaing sheep blocking its path.
A few hours later, on the same day.
At Fidelis' shop, a woodpecker was fluttering in the sky, busy catching flies.
Fidelis was a sixty-five-year-old man, who, despite his wealth, almost always wore plain and simple clothing. Contrary to his age, he only had a few strands of white hair on either side of his head, though his scruffy beard was white for the most part.
Soon after the Masked Guards left the shop, Lirzod walked in.
"Care to give me a handful of those groundnuts?" Lirzod asked after hiding the gooseberries from the old man's sight.
"Hmph, not today," Fidelis waved his hand, gesturing to him to leave while chewing on a twiggy.
"C'mon, you still are holding onto that?" Lirzod shrugged his shoulders. "I was just kidding yesterday in the central hall."
"You may be right, but I don't care. Just leave, and go elsewhere, where you can freeload, like the gooseberries you just had!"
Lirzod's shoulders jerked up and down. "H-How did you know?"
"Hmph, I can smell them from a street away."
"I've got a good nose, but you've got an animal nose instead of a human. The face as well. When you start glaring, you almost look like the scary chimpanzee I've seen on the Manjaro mountain."
"Are you praising or belittling me?" Fidelis ground his teeth. He controlled his urge to come near Lirzod and teach him a lesson. "Leave right now, or I'll be forced to manhandle you."
"Fine, I'll go in and talk with Selena for a minute."
"Going into my house isn't leaving!" Fidelis' brows twitched. "And my daughter isn't home. So just go away."
"She's not home?" Lirzod paused for a moment. "She must be in the library. Then I will just wait inside until she comes." He was about to enter the house.
"No," Fidelis hurriedly blocked the path. "No matter what you do, I'm not letting you inside my home today. As for the basement, forget about it entirely." His voice then slowed and toned down, "Not a single woman in this town calls me a grandpa, but you dare to call me a geezer. If I look away now, then I'll lose my face in front of all the women."
"Since when did you worry about your face?"
"Since now."
"Even if it doesn't befit our clan?"
"Just say that it doesn't benefit you. Why am I even saying all this?" he fetched a glass jar that wasn't far away from him. It was filled with hundreds of houseflies, all of which were caught bare-handedly by Fidelis. He never let a housefly that bested Pecky's defenses and dared to taste his goods leave. Because that glass jar had holes that were the size of needles, the houseflies managed to live on even after getting stuck inside the jar. He now brought it to Lirzod. "You can have this."
"Who wants your flies!"
"You can have them roasted by Primera."
"Uwacck!" Lirzod acted like he almost lost his appetite, but Fidelis still put his hands forward, holding the jar. "Hmph, take that thing away... or, do you want me to break it here?"
"You can try if you dare," Fidelis replied confidently because of his confidence in Pecky, his pet woodpecker that just landed on his shoulder.
"Hmph," Lirzod squinted his eyes as though he was considering the option. If those many hungry houseflies were to be freed all at once, the sweets of Fidelis's store would, for sure, be spoiled, even with Pecky around, so in the end, he couldn't act.
"Thought so," Fidelis glanced at the two guards stationed at his store. They wasted no time in catching Lirzod—who still tried to sneak into the home—and pulled him up from both sides by his armpits and carried him away.
When the guards let go of him, Lirzod ran back over and planted a kiss on the old man's cheek. "Thanks for everything, geezer. Take care while I'm away, got it?" he quickly put a yellow lotus in his hand, then stepped away. "Give it to Selena, and tell her I said goodbye and also not to cry. I will be back before she knows it," he said aloud while facing the old man, and then charmingly grinned. It was a grin that lit up all the environment around him; however, Pecky flew over and started pecking at him, for it hated anyone other than itself kissing its owner.
Lirzod's words and his smile caught Fidelis by surprise and made him freeze for a moment, but he was quick to respond. "Hmph, my daughter would never cry for you, brat!" Fidelis snorted. "Besides, you should first worry about yourself. Shambala Sect's entrance test isn't a cakewalk even for the gifted children of this world, kid..." He said as Pecky chased Lirzod away. "Let's see if you can really come back in one piece."
Inside Fidelis's house, the silhouette of someone appeared behind one of the half-open windows.
Lirzod, after escaping from Pecky's fiery pecking, kept visiting some houses and greeted those he was acquainted with.
Meanwhile, many miles to the west of Helenia was Deadwill, a relatively large town situated on flatlands. While people and animal carts owned the roads, hens along the edges of those roads took a stroll, now and then scratching the soil for insects and seeds, with chicks following closely behind while staying under tree shade.
In a not-so-crowded market, a young boy was selling fruits and vegetables, which looked not as fresh and good as those in the neighboring shops. His shop was also at the edge of the market and was much smaller compared to the rest. When a chicken came along with its chicks, he shooed them away with his towel. Soon, a horse rider in a black hood and a black mask stopped in front of his shop. "There any worthwhile inn with pretty wenches, kid?" he asked.
"There anything you want to buy, sir?" the young vendor asked expectantly.
The rider smirked. "How are the apples?"
"Four per copper piece."
"Alright. Pack four."
"Only four? I've got seven brothers and sisters who go to school, sir," the young boy replied in a somewhat pleading tone while already starting to pack a dozen apples and bananas. "The bananas are for the horse if you don't mind." He brought the cover over to the rider. "Four copper pieces, total."
"Seven siblings, huh. If I were you, I'd stop them from going to school," he said and handed the money.
"Why?" the boy couldn't help but ask. "They teach how to read and write, don't they?"
"Yeah, so do second-hand books from a corner store, and you get to choose what you want to read and what you want to believe in."
"Don't they teach history, facts, marketing, and all that good stuff in school, too?"
"All the big books you read in school are written by the people that rule the land, and you think those in authority would ever uncover their lies and the things they do to stay at the top so the masses could rebel and take back what was originally theirs? No. They won't let you meditate on as much as they like you to parrot information. What better place to indoctrinate and make people cultivate parroty habits than schools since one's salad days? I worked as a teacher for a long time, so trust me on this, kid. As things stand now, you can learn a lot more about life selling fruits than you ever will in school. If you and your siblings plan and sell things well, you can together take over this market in, like, ten to twenty years, but a school will only balloon your pride when in the end it just sets you up to be subservient to the system or be someone else's slave till the end of your time."
"Quit with your jokes, sir. If taking over a market was that easy, then chickens could also fly," the young boy didn't shy away from speaking his mind. "By the way, why are you wearing a mask? Do you have an ugly face by chance?"
"Don't we all when we lose our shit?" his reply made the young boy go silent. "Name the inn, kid."
"Ah, Rummer's Inn. Just keep going straight. It's about three furlongs away."
The black-hodded man booted the horse, and it got going again.
Only seconds later, another man in an orange jacket and an orange, cracked tiger mask stopped by the store. "Rummer's inn, right?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, sir," the young boy replied in haste.
The tiger-masked man turned to face the boy. "How about we go and meet your seven sisters and brothers to see if they're real or not?"
"O-Of course, they're real," the young boy's heart skipped seven beats. "You're looking for a good inn, weren't you? Rummer's inn is the one."
"Your customers' sympathy doesn't get your business far, kiddo," the tiger-masked man picked up an apple and walked away. "When other shopkeepers don't care what you're doing, that should ring the bells. Figure out a better plan before it's too late, and—tell your brothers and sisters, I said hi."
The boy went silent for a few seconds. "That mask… He can't be the real deal, can he? Ah! He didn't pay!" he quickly stood and called out. "Wait! You didn't pay for that apple." He started running, but so did the tiger-masked man after washing the apple at a nearby well, then crunching on it without a wait. The boy ran for almost a hundred meters and then gave up because the other guy was too fast. "I was tricked," he was panting audibly, but he had to return to his shop. However, to his surprise, he noticed a copper coin in the place where the apple was missing. He picked it up and thought, "Did he leave it here? Then why did he run?"
A few minutes later.
In Rummer's Inn, two pretty wenches in low-cut white blouses served the customers with the orders and some extra-friendly touches. One of them supplied the tiger-masked man a mug of ale. With just a look, he noticed the dead fly at the bottom of the wooden vessel. He squeezed his lips together a bit. He took the fly out with a fork and then went on to sip some ale.
The innkeeper, another wench in a short blue skirt, sat on the table and poured ale on her legs and let her two debtors lick her feet clean, even what fell on the floor. "My mom used to say, 'those who can't repay debts are also shameless enough to lick even shit with smiles on their faces.' Guess she's spot on." They tried to stop, but she refused. "Uh-ah, keep going. Don't waste a drop, or I'll feed your disloyal little dicks to my ever-hungry hogs. And don't cry. You should instead be happy that I'm pouring ale and not piss."
While shedding tears and sweating hard, the two gentleman-looking men forced themselves and did her bidding, even though they knew in the back of their minds that this bizarre service wouldn't change much of their fate. And they were right. After they finished, she smashed the wooden mugs in their faces until they lost plenty of teeth and their noses turned into a grotesquerie.
"Alright," she kept looking indifferently at them. "Chop their sticks, and put bazooblocks[3] on them and export their ugly asses."
"No, please, no! Give us a chance!" both men touched her feet and begged in unclear tones, thanks to the pitiful state their jaws were in.
"A chance?" she, a long-legged brunette, put her toes under their chins and lifted them. "You wankers are not worth the shit on my shoe, yet you thought you could together climb into my bed only days after my husband died. Way I see it, you should be grateful I haven't already hanged your heads at my doorstep."
"W-We've heard that you spent time with certain men," they hastily said. "That's why we took a chance, but we were gravely wrong."
"No, you weren't wrong," she kicked in their faces with enough force to send them crashing back to the floor. "I did spread my legs for those my dead husband owed a shit ton of money. Getting screwed by giggling and drooling pricks wasn't easy, but you can't run an inn successfully without successful people backing it. That's that. And thanks for reminding me of those long ugly nights, you've changed my mind. Let these dickheads' limbs be chewed in the piggery."
"No! No! Please!" the two men started begging again. "Without limbs, we cannot survive. Our wives will kick us out!"
"All the more I should stick to my words," she indifferently stated, "but don't worry. After your limbs are cut, you'll be allowed to bleed to death." Her words caused the men to sob like little children and beg some more, saying that they had children waiting for them back home.
The two serving wenches in corsets still dragging them away mercilessly.
While most men in the inn lay low and acted reservedly and turned their heads away from the ongoing scene, the same wasn't the case with a tiger-masked man sitting by that long table and sipping ale at his own pace. "Easy, women. Your little foot-licking circus already ate two-thirds of my tolerance, and now you want me to drink this piss, knowing you're butchering men in your backyard?" He put the mug down and swiveled on his butt, then rested his elbows back on the table and took a good look at those men covered in blood before shifting his gaze to the two serving wenches. "And let's not lose sight of the fact that murder kindles madness. Do you want that mania in your head for the pocket change your boss farts in your face?"
"Killing men feels satisfying after being forced to sleep in their beds enough times to lose count, Saber Flash," one of the two workers replied without hesitation.
"Oh, spare me the bullshit," the masked man, Saber Flash, almost wanted to laugh. "If you had any balls, you'd have long butchered the bastards that messed with your lives. But no. You would rather hunt foxes and abuse the sheep while the wolves live their lives to the damndest. And still, you have the gall to say you are satisfied with what you're doing. What a joke. Why isn't anybody clapping for such buffoonery?" he started clapping.
The two servers gritted their teeth in anger. "Shut up. These men didn't pay, so they deserve to die."
"Do they, really?" Saber Flash slightly tilted his head. "Was it written in the agreement beforehand?"
The two servers quickly looked at the innkeeper.
"No, it wasn't, but this is the way we do things," the innkeeper confidently replied. "You can't run an inn with a charitable heart, and I'm not the kind to keep slaves. Killing those who can't pay what they owe one way or another and then taking their property is the best way to go about it, so stop rubbing your principles on me."
"Jeez. You're telling me not to rub my principles on you when you're doing the same thing to those men. Your best way can at best kill people, but can it ever take a step back and undo any wrongs you've done? No. Can your or any of our best ways bring back your dead husband or at least the fly that drowned in my ale? Not even the richest or the strongest man in the world can pull it off. Yeah, money makes the world move and all, but no amount of it is worth killing anyone who walks on the same damn world." He turned his head and looked at the innkeeper.
"You don't have a clue about what I've been through, Saber Flash," she bluntly said.
"Maybe, but let's view this from your side then, lady. It was indeed wrong of them to climb into your bed without your consent," Saber Flash continued, "but you also know that it's the rumors that led them to act. The fault isn't entirely theirs, and we all commit faults every day, so why not spare their lives and give them time to make amends? If they still fail to show their gratitude, then punish them appropriately."
"Like I said, don't rub your ideals on me," the innkeeper raised her tone while glancing sideways at this masked man. "No one tells Riya what to do."
"Who's Riya?"
"I'm Riya, you idiotic tiger!" she barked in annoyance but then quickly contained her composure. "Just keep chugging on that ale like you've been doing. Scum like them who get hard as a diamond for all women except their wives is no good to society. By killing them, I'm doing a favor to one and all."
"But your late husband had lent his money to the same scum, didn't he? What do you call someone who lends money to scum?"
Silence soon took over the inn. Riya was gritting her teeth, trying her test to not attack the much bruited-about Saber Flash with an unknown background.
"I didn't want to bring your late husband into this, but you were the one who acted like you were helping the society while you run this inn solely for yourself. It was never about people but just money, right? In the end, most businesses and relationships always boil down to that. It's such a shame, really, the state of humanity," the masked man's voice shattered the awkward silence into pieces. "Anyway, long story short, how much? Those are the words you are waiting to hear, aren't you?"
"Well," Riya smirked and got down from the table. "I didn't know Saber Flash was a rich man with itchy pockets. Now, howsoever you might have earned this money, it feels like a blessing to have you in our midst." Her words garnered a few chuckles from the crowd who thought he was joking or showing off. She closed in and looked him in the eye. "Alright, I'll play your game. Adding the interest, five gold and twenty silver pieces for each head. Commit this costly mistake, and your word shall rule their lives[4]."
Saber Flash said nothing, though their eyes were still locked on each other.
"What's wrong?" she smiled like she knew this was going to happen. "I can see a lump jamming your throat. Such a shame, really. I thought you were gonna make money talk, but I guess you're all talk. I won't blame you. After all, money is the most important thing in the world. And one should earn as much as they can while they can. You should just—"
After biting his lower lip and blowing air through the nose, Saber Flash took out a coin and put it in her mouth, stopping her speech. "I earn money to spend it, not save it to buy a coffin." He turned around. "It's a bit short, but you also no longer have to bribe anyone for keeping their mouths shut had you killed these men."
The serving wenches tried to step in, but Riya raised her hand and stopped them after seeing the special coin that was worth ten gold. Even someone like her who owned a hundred wethers and even more hogs wouldn't casually give away ten gold, so it brought a big smile on her face. She signed and handed him the debt-related documents. "Those pieces-of-shits are all yours. If you want to invest in my inn or do any business, just know that the doors are always open."
Saber Flash walked over to the two wounded men, snatched the handkerchief from the server's waist, then stooped to the men's level and wiped the blood off their mouths. "It's lamentable that no one in this town came for your rescue, but then again, you can't expect others to give a crap when you can't even control yourself. If you had died because you couldn't pay off your debts, your families would later be brought into the streets and would be shamed forever. You deserve the beatings, but what did they do, huh? Don't bring any more suffering and shame to your families than you already have."
"S-Sorry, sir. We can't pay you right away, but we can work for you. We will do anything," both of them hurriedly said while visibly shivering from this strange fear that had gripped them. The tiger mask also didn't help their case either.
"You owe me nothing," replied Saber Flash, tearing the documents to pieces, "since I'm gonna get my money back soon."
His words alerted Riya and the two servers. With just a subtle nod from the innkeeper, the two servers pulled axes hidden in their dresses and then attacked the masked man from behind.
However, he caught their wrists without looking back and tossed them over the two debtors. Both the women crashed on the tables and screamed in pain.
"I said I was gonna get my money back," Saber Flash got back to his feet and turned to face Riya, "but I didn't say I was gonna get it back from you."
"I don't care what you're looking for," Riya pulled out a shotgun from under the table, "but I don't want no trouble. Get out of here. I won't warn you twice, you hear me, Trash Flash? Piss off from my property before I blow your fucking brain all over this place."
"I will…. After you pay me five gold for making your women attack me with axes," replied Saber Flash and started walking toward her.
"W-What are you talking about?" her heartbeat quickened. "They didn't even scratch you."
"Stop rubbing your logic on me, Ms. Riya," Saber Flash walked up to her and put his hand forward. "'Killing those who can't pay what they owe and then taking their property is the best way to go about it.' Isn't that what you said? Do you want to risk your entire wealth for a measly five gold coins?"
"Y-You bastard… You did it all on purpose so you can swindle some money out of me," she pulled the trigger in rage, but at the same time, he pushed the gun away. The bullet struck the ceiling. He swiftly disarmed her and smacked her face with the heel of the shotgun.
"Instead of demanding some absurdly high amount, five pieces is all I'm asking for because I'm also partly to be blamed for not being clear with my words," Saber Flash put the shotgun on the table and took a seat next to it. "Anyway, long story short, I'll give you one minute. Bring me the money. Every second you're late, you'll be required to pay an extra gold."
"This fucking tiger just had to come to my inn… which damned face did I first see this morning?" with a bloody nose, Riya kept cursing as she hastened into her room and soon brought back a sack full of silver coins and tossed it on the table. "There's your money," she held a cloth against her nose as blood dribbled down. "Now, get the fuck out and never show your face around here again."
"The feeling's mutual, but I'll leave after…" he turned his head to look at the forbidding stranger lurking in the shadowy corner, "I have a little chat with someone."
The black-hooded stranger in the shadowy corner slowly put the roasted lamb piece down on the plate.
BOOM~~!!
Gray smoke filled the whole inn before anyone saw it coming. The black-hooded man limped his way out to the black horse and rode away on it with all possible haste. However, Saber Flash flew out of nowhere and took him off the horse. The black-hooded man spat a poisoned needle from up close, but it missed. Half a dozen sharp things flew out of his mouth simultaneously, but they all missed the mark, too. Both of them rolled on the street. In the end, Saber Flash punched and broke the other's mask, thereby revealing the visage of the faceless man and the bloodied nose. "I saw you in the market just a while ago," the faceless man was visibly surprised. "Why are you following me? If it's money, I can give you that. Check my back pocket."
Saber Flash, while sitting on top, stared right into his eyes. "I'm not here for your money, though I'll gladly accept your offer." He slid his hand under the faceless man's back and pulled out a small sack. "Now, what should I do with you?"
The faceless man's eyes enlarged. Until now, he thought this guy was after his money, but now he realized something else. "Are you from that town in the east? How did you find me? I'm sure I didn't leave any trail."
"Masks stand out in a town like this. You should already know that."
A second of unsettling silence passed. Though the faceless man's face wasn't sweating, his eyes showed increasing tension.
"You should have run far away while you still had the chance," Saber Flash put a knife at the throat. "You just tried to kill me, which is understandable since I attacked you first, but you've also tried to assassinate one of our clan heads for whatever reason, and for that alone, I should drive this knife through you without a second thought, but I'm a better asshole than you, so I'll give you a chance. Answer me straight. If I let you live, will you come looking for vengeance?"
"Huh? I haven't been this weakened in ages," the faceless man looked puzzled. "Why not finish me when you have the chance, Mr. Flash?"
"Just answer my damn question," he put more pressure on the throat with the knife. "Will you, or will you not? You have ten seconds."
"Huh, you want me to answer honestly, but it also feels like you are letting me lie my way through," the faceless man said and helplessly smiled. "That nasty woman also chose a horse over me. I felt so insulted, even though I wanted her to choose the horse. From what I can tell, your little clan is full of such fools, so I honestly don't feel like coming back for anything. I think I'll just forget the losses."
"I don't like giving grown liars second chances," Saber Flash took the knife off the faceless man's throat. "You better stick to our agreement. Otherwise, even if you hide in the darkest of holes, I'll find you, and I'll fucking end you. Are we clear?"
"Clear as clear can be," he was quick to reply.
"I hope so," Saber Flash took five gold coins out of the sack, then dropped the coin sack on the faceless man's chest and started walking away.
"What? There's thirty gold inside, and you're satisfied with just five pieces?" he started smiling. "Guess you changed your mind after looking at my pretty face. Do you want to know how I got it?"
Saber Flash mounted the horse and rode away.
"That's a warhorse you're taking," the faceless man said. "It cost me ninety silver." However, there was no response, and Saber Flash soon disappeared out of his sight. "Dammit." He put his hand inside the mouth and pulled a mask out before putting it on his skinless face. "Not once or twice but thrice… I can't let it end like this. I'll even the score and do some more someday, you fucking pricks. But for now, I have to pay a visit to the shitty stables again." He limped away at his own pace.
However, a group of five guys surrounded him in no time. They were all wearing mouth masks made of cloth and had the words 'Ten Thieves' painted on them. "Hand over all your shit, and we'll let you walk away in one piece."
"I have the habit of shitting only in the mornings," the faceless man casually replied, "so why don't you come back next morning?" He tried to walk through the gap between two of those men; however, they took out knives and swung at him, forcing him to step back. "Chill, people. Can't you take a joke? Oh, wait, I can see the scars behind those masks. You might have been slaves in the past, but you're no longer wearing those badges of submission. I'm sure you don't want to put them on again, so why don't you make way for me?"
"We won't say again, Freakface," their voices were cold. "Give us your stuff, or you'll die a miserable—"
In that split second, before any of those five men realized, their heads were already flying in the air. As their torsos collapsed and blood painted the road, the faceless man walked away, still walking lamely. "If I had more energy, I'd have sold them into slavery and pocketed a few coins. They better be thanking me for granting death, wherever they are."
Meanwhile, in the neighboring street, another five similarly-dressed thieves had blocked Saber Flash's path.
"We've heard about you, Saber Flash. They say you're always stalking the streets and seeking trouble, but you should have also heard about us, the Ten Thieves. We're infamous throughout the kingdom. Even grown men piss and shit in their pants if the word goes out that we've entered their town," one of them said and sniggered. "We only target lone travelers like you who think they're invincible. We've come to this town for someone else, but we weren't expecting to meet you."
"Ah-huh, why are there only five of you?" asked Saber Flash, still sitting royally on the horse.
"Isn't it obvious? Five of us are more than enough for you, dumbass," they pulled out knives and rushed at him together. "We'll be taking the horse, too."
Saber Flash picked up the bag of apples and bananas and pulled the reins. The black horse, as though it felt something, suddenly raised its front legs and kicked one of the incoming attackers. A few swings of the fruit bag into their faces sent a couple of them to the ground. The horse kicked another fellow with its hind legs this time. The fifth one was scared out of his wits and so bolted the scene faster than a chicken. The other four men were unduly unnerved.
"Don't get your knickers twisted. I'm not dropping you at the court," Saber Flash threw the fruit bag on the ground, and the horse gladly chomped on the broken apples and mashed bananas. "But If I see you in this line of business again, I won't be so kind next time."
All of them fled the scene without looking back.
"The Ten Thieves, huh…I heard they live without rules or honor. Life without principles is such a scary thing to even imagine," Saber Flash sucked in a long breath and exhaled slowly. "A part of me hopes that I don't cross paths with them, but the other part..." he started riding away on the horse, as it had long snacked on the fruits and seemed somewhat satisfied.
At the dawn of the following day, near the northern border of Helenia.
Though the sunshine should have blessed Helenia by now had the weather been typical, that wasn't the case today.
It was even more so the case at the port of the Faceless clan's territory where thorny trees such as cacti and other tropical trees stuck out. While hummingbirds were at work sucking nectar from the coastal lupines, many members of the clan arrived at the beach to send off three of their noted members who might very well never return. However, most if not all faces were still filled with joy, pride, expectation, and a multitude of thoughts and emotions that might just run wild if kept in check for much longer. Though there was a soft radiance in the skies lower to their right, the sun was yet to show his face. The clan's flag spoke for itself from atop the lighthouse that wasn't far away from where people mostly clustered. It had three smiling human faces on it masked by a cracked orange-yellowish tiger mask, a fractured white lion mask, and a broken black panther mask, all designed by Sinario and painted by Syam.
A cluster of small colonies was present on the other side of the lighthouse, and the people living in those colonies eagerly watched the clan members from a distance. There was also an estate further down the west from where some eyes keenly watched.
The air was still cold, as cold as it would regularly be at three in the night. The breezes that continually blew in their faces were colder than frozen lifeforms. The thick fog around them made some children sneeze and forced some others to rub their own bodies in an attempt to keep themselves warm. The cutting breeze made some parents regret bringing their children. After all, if not for their ear-piercing crying, the parents wouldn't have brought their children out at that hour. At least, the combination of silk and woolen clothes helped them withstand such cold weather.
Many people were staring right at the sea, which was even darker than the sky, and it hosted hideous fog and rumbling clouds alike, but the crashing waves at the shore were more than enough to scare children away into looking elsewhere. Even some adults averted their eyes from nature that also seemed to be getting excited about the clan.
Some folks gathered there were talking about the future of their clan, and their prospects if those three young ones of their clan succeeded in making a name for themselves. Even coming back alive in one piece would do well for the clan.
"Generally, if we keep our expectations low, we are less likely to get disappointed. But in this case, it's the polar opposite," Picazo placed his hands on Lirzod's shoulders, "I have high expectations of you, son. Don't forget that 'what's in your head must also be in your heels.' Moreover, don't make your mother cry any more than she has to." He closed Lirzod's fist and gently hit it against Lirzod's chest two times, "Always keep the hopes of our people in here."
"I will not forget your teachings or our people—I will give it my best for all of us, Father," Lirzod nodded. "Take care of Mother. She..." he pressed his lips a bit.
"She will be thinking of you every day of the year and will be angry at you for your decision—for my decision as well.." Picazo sighed a little. "But knowing her, she stays that way only until you come back and give her a kiss and a long hug. That weapon combo of yours is the only thing that can control her nowadays."
"Hehe," Lirzod felt slightly better after hearing those words. "I'll bring her something special, something even better than all the gifts you have given her."
"Ho..." Picazo seemed impressed with those words and nodded twice. "Then, I'll be looking forward to what gift you'll bring for her." He leaned a bit closer and said in a low voice. "But, know this much, son. Your mother is hard to impress."
"Haha, I know. I can only do my best and bring the best gift I can think of and get my hands on!"
"Sounds great, but then what about me?" Picazo curled his brows in opposite directions. " Won't I be getting any gifts?"
"I will hug you," Lirzod cheekily replied. "Won't that be enough?"
Picazo's shoulders flailed a bit. "I get it. This father isn't as important to you as your mother."
"It's no ordinary hug, Father," Lirzod confidently said, "It will be the greatest hug ever! That's a damn good gift if you ask me."
Picazo narrowed his eyes, startling Lirzod. "You little... Who are you trying to fool with your sugar-coated words? I'm your father!"
Lirzod had already begun to run away to Primera as fast as his legs could carry, and he hid behind her.
Picazo didn't run after him and just sighed before donning a well-disposed smile.
Meanwhile, Sinario tutored austere lessons to Burton, who was wearing a white shirt, a long green blazer with a tiger symbol on its back, brown leather shoes, and gray cargo jeans with numerous silvery zip pockets. "Not just your best, but give it some more, Burton Boy," Sinario's sharp stare seemed like it was capable of exploring the deepest regions of Burton's heart. It appeared as if Sinario's words entranced Burton, given how he mechanically nodded repetitively each time Sinario spoke. "I know you are not like me, so I will only tell you one thing. Fear not losing the test, but losing to your heart. Don't let the trials get to your head. A man must know when to lower his head just as much as he knows when to lower others' heads. When you can't have everything, you yield and make use of what you have. That's how you rule. That's how you live. That's how you can be sure that fame is always behind you, and not the opposite. Whether it accompanies you in your endeavors or not is up to fate, so don't fret over it. As long as sufferance is on your side, you'll find victory even in death."
"Your boy will bring fame and honor to our family's name, sir," Burton saluted to his heart and bowed a little.
"Bring fame and honor not just to the family but to the clan as well," Sinario's voice turned colder than the weather all around. "As a young master of the clan, you've reveled in all sorts of privileges from your childhood, but all of those were for this moment. Don't forget that. As Burton Vesta, you are duty-bound to put your clan's priorities ahead of your family's and even your own."
"Your boy fully understands," Burton replied quickly, still bowing down.
Sinario leaned forward and whispered, "the black horse isn't bad, though it requires some training. Still and all, you shouldn't have left the town since we knew nothing about this enemy. You're lucky that you weren't ambushed."
Burton slowly nodded. "I knew the risk, but… I acted in haste. I apologize."
"Just don't repeat this," Sinario put his hand on Burton's shoulders. "Fools only follow their hearts, whereas wise men spiritedly seek the council of bright minds. What separates stupidity and smartness is just that tittle of pride and overconfidence. Always be sober, or you'll be as foolish as anyone else."
"I understand," Burton said. Though Sinario often drank without restraint on special occasions, he still always was in his senses. Burton, on the other hand, had done a few silly things after getting drunk, so he could only awkwardly smile now and wish Sinario would stop roasting him.
"Oh, by the way," Sinario took out a piece of paper from inside his blazer. "It's from today's local paper."
Though there wasn't enough light around, Burton was able to read the cursive text written on this paper that seemed like it had been cut from the newspaper. "Saber Flash leaves a trail of five dead men in the streets of Deadwill?" Burton frowned. "That's not what happened."
"Yeah, you and I know that, but those who wrote this information clearly care about what suits their interests and helps boost their paper sales," Sinario said. "I showed it to make you aware, not so you could challenge the system. Before you challenge the system—"
"You should first challenge yourself. I know," Burton said. "Though I am still not quite sure what it means."
"You will know when the time comes."
On the other hand, Kwame looked to be depressed as he soon had to part with his precious daughter. He did his best to not break into tears in front of the crowd, and especially his daughter. He had to suppress all his emotions, seemingly with the help of a simple handkerchief, thereby making his heart feel a thousand times heavier.
"You are probably the smartest in the clan among your age group," Kwame held her hands gently and took a deep breath, "but smartness without sufferance can only take you so far. I will be waiting for the day I'll meet you here again, which also means that you would've gone through a great deal of effort, and that's all you need to show the clan to prove yourself, Little Rill."
"I will fulfill the wishes of our clan," Sariyu softly pulled the hands of his father and placed them on her cheeks, "and yours as well, Father." Her loose hair mildly fluttered in the wind.
Kwame smiled a little. "I know you value your life, but that's the case for most beings of this world. We do everything we can just to survive," the corner of Kwame's lips curled down. "Even if you fail... I can understand it. No matter what, I will always feel proud of you."
"Father..." Sariyu was left in tears as she hugged her father and sobbed her heart out. All the emotions she tried to contain inside her heart burst out like the floodgates of a dam would in times of a seemingly never-ending storm. From her childhood, whenever she asked for something, his father bought it for her without objections. Though he didn't say it, he loved her more than he loved the clan, and she knew that. But now, for having to leave the side of her father in whose arms she spent a significant amount of her lifetime, not knowing whether she would return home or not, she was at a loss of words, and her tears spoke in her stead by viciously streaming down her cheeks. Currently, she was wearing a cement-colored shirt and a light black hooded jacket on top, both of which went well with the black balloon baggy pants with red-colored liny designs used sparingly. These were the set of clothes her father gifted her in the past, so she was wearing the set now, and that factor only added to both their emotions.
At the same time, Lirzod was secretly discussing something with Primera. "When I come back, you should let me kiss you a hundred times," he spoke in her ears. "Otherwise, I won't be giving you any gifts that I'll bring."
Primera flushed ever so faintly but quickly narrowed her eyes and twisted his ear with all possible haste. "First, grow some mustache before speaking such big words, Young Master."
"Ouch, ouch, I'm your young master! You can't hurt me like this. How about showing a shiver of respect or at least pity?"
"I can't. Master Picazo gave me all the rights to do whatever I want with you long ago. Did someone forget that? Maybe I should teach you in my style once again."
"No, no, don't do it now, not in front of others," Lirzod made a miserable face. "Everyone's watching. Please."
"Since when did you bother about what others think about us, Young Master?"
"Since now," he desperately said.
Primera squinted her eyes. "Fine, but promise me you'll never talk to me like that again," she put her palm forward.
Lirzod paused for a moment before bringing his hand forward. "I pro-miss." He placed his palm over hers.
"Not pro-miss! Say promise!" she twisted his ear again.
"Aww!" Lirzod squealed in pain. "Duera! Save me!"
Listening to his cries, a girl came out of nowhere and tickled Primera's armpit from behind, making her let go of Lirzod's ear right away. The two of them immediately stationed themselves on her left and right and began to tickle her everywhere.
"You two... Stop it!" Primera jumped all around, losing herself.
Some of the members of the clan that watched the scene from afar were quite surprised.
"Even that Primera, who always appears so professional, is not immune to tickles. What great news!" some men who had first seen such a thing had begun to form plans for later.
Putting an end to Primera's misery, a girl came with a water spray and sprayed at Lirzod and Duera, making them go away, shrieking like cats.
"You saved me, Trirera," Primera was still out of breath. It's been weeks since she laughed to such an extent. "Thanks. I almost died from laughter. Those two would have never stopped if not for your meddling."
"No problem. Trirera always has your back," Trirera, the short blue-haired girl as adorable a jewel as the ocean, sprayed some more water in the direction of Lirzod and Duera. Her voice sounded lazy, probably from the lack of sleep, but it was also quite soft and childlike. She was slightly shorter than Duera, much less Primera, and she didn't have any vivid expression on her face and seemed to be in usual spirits, which was the way she appeared most of the time.
"So what if Little Arrow helped you?" Both Lirzod and Duera still rapidly moved their fingers in the air, trying to tease Primera, who now grabbed the water spray and chased after them.
"That's my spray..." Trirera mused to herself before she turned back. "I'll go and send off Young Master Burton." She didn't make any unnecessary movements. Even her walk was slow-paced as if she didn't care what was happening in the world around her. She stopped after seeing a starfish in the sand. She picked it up and brought it to Burton. "Young Master," she stretched out her hand.
"Oh, a starfish!" Burton smiled and took it from her. Though a starfish was nothing special, he had to act as if he was surprised to make her feel better, especially considering his imminent voyage. "Trirera, I didn't ask you, but…" Burton scratched his chin a bit, "is there anything you want from the outside world?"
"I..." She stared down at the ground, slowly playing with her fingers. "I..."
Burton leaned closer. "Don't be shy. Whatever it is, I won't say to anybody and will secretly bring it to you."
"Hmm," she softly nodded. "I trust Young Master Burton. I-I want the..." she spoke secretly in his ears.
Her words surprised Burton and made him stand straight. "Ahem, you, you want that, right?"
"Yes, is it possible?" she asked with a blank expression.
"O-Of course. Just leave it to this young master," Burton puffed up his chest.
"Hmm!" she nodded and smiled a little before wrapping her arm around his forearm.
Meanwhile, Duera and Lirzod ran quite far away from the crowd, and Duera could run no more in that sand, so she stopped. "Young Master, don't forget about the Volcanic Turtle Shell Cream. Also..." she murmured in his ears while still out of breath and asked for some more things. "I would've listed them on paper, but knowing you, you'll probably lose it. So don't fail to remember the items, okay?"
"How can I fail to recall them?" Lirzod fully opened his eyes, "Everything you asked for will be taken care of, and I will bring you even more pleasant things. You can raise a ruckus among the girls in the town with the things I bring. Moreover, Pentera will probably turn into a zebra from jealousy."
"Pfft," Duera giggled. "I haven't seen a jealous zebra before, so I'll surely look forward to—"
Before Duera finished her speech, Primera reached the spot and sprayed water all over those two. The water spray had a pipe sucking up water from the ocean, so it had an endless supply. Also, compared to Trirera, she handled the water spray pretty well, and it seemed as though an elephant's trunk was at work. Against her artful and masterful work, those two stood no chance.
"I rest my madness," Duera begged her to stop, her clothes full soaked in cold water.
"Even if you rest yours," Primera slightly enlarged her eyes as she continued spraying, "I ain't resting mine!"
"Primera! You are spoiling my journey dress," Lirzod said aloud, "so stop it, please!"
Lirzod's words halted her. "You're right. I forgot about that. I'm... sorry, Young Master."
"It's fine. What happened has happened." Lirzod lunged at her and swept his hand at the water spray, but Primera just stepped back once, making his effort a failure.
"Young Master, you should have stepped in again! You could have gotten the water spray—" Duera said in haste, which seemed rather like a slip of the tongue.
"Mm?" Primera turned to Duera and narrowed her eyes.
"N-No, wait! I can explain this. Wait, no, no, no!" Before Duera could raise her hands to defend herself, the stream of water had splashed all over her face and body. She just stood like that for five seconds until Primera eventually stopped.
[Chapter 3 hasn't finished, but because of word restriction on this website, I moved the last portion of it to the next chapter. Read it there. Sorry for the inconvenience.]
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
VKBoy
VKBoy Hope, you've fancied the chapter.
Daily Dose: Friends or family, those who share feelings like they share food look really cool imo. In that regard, I'm not that cool. How many of you guys think you're cool? Are you blessed enough to share things often if not daily?
Chapter Length: 20,500+ words.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone