Under a Sky of Blues - PT 1

“So, if it's alright with you guys, can I join you on this journey?”

“Y-Y-Yeah, of course!” Edward responded excitedly, immediately trying to regain his more reserved demeanor.

“No problem! After all, I was the one who suggested it.” Peter gave a thumbs-up.

“We still have some preparations to make, but if you want, you can help us load the cart. We'll need to take your things too.”

“That's fine, it's not like I have much… I don’t really have a lot to bring… Ah!—” Arya suddenly remembered something she needed to take. “Well, there's that…”

In fact, the clothes Arya wore were gifts from Belchior—clothes that had belonged to his late wife and daughter, still kept in good condition.

The object Arya didn’t even want to remember existed was the flute that made her a necromancer. But due to the mysterious nature of that item, she knew it would inevitably find its way onto the cart.

“Is… Is it really okay for me to travel with you?” the girl still hesitated.

“Did something happen?” asked Edward.

“Father said I should take this opportunity to travel and look for my old family, to uncover the truth behind my amnesia. I don’t want to be a burden on your journey.”

“Wait a minute, since when have you been calling the old man ‘Father’?” Peter was surprised.

“That’s a recent thing…”

“Putting that aside,” Edward interrupted. “Neither of us really knows how we’re going to get back home. We can help you with your search along the way, it’s no trouble at all.”

“And what if I end up not finding anyone?”

“That’s not a problem either. You can stay with us as long as you need to.”

“Yes!” Peter added. “You can even come live with us in our homeland! I’m sure Edward’s mom— Burgh!!! Uwah!”

Edward landed a solid elbow right into Peter’s stomach before he could say anything inappropriate.

“Oops, sorry, my elbow slipped.”

“Y-You bastard…” Peter wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

“Haha… You two really need someone to keep you in line.”

“Anyway, as you can see, there’s nothing stopping you from coming with us. It’s all up to you—what do you truly want?”

“What I truly want…”

A faint blush started to form on Arya’s face as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She didn’t think what she was about to say was embarrassing, but she knew where it could lead.

“F-Family…” she whispered softly. “I want to be able to have a family…”

“Hm? But isn’t the old man your father now?”

“Yes, he’s always treated me like an amazing father, but that’s not what I mean.”

The few neurons in Peter’s brain began working intensely to decipher what she was trying to say.

“...
……
Ah! I got it! You mean you want to have kids with E—! Bwwaarghhh!”

Another elbow strike hit Peter—this time so hard that he collapsed onto the ground, blood spurting from his mouth as he passed out.

“Is… Is he okay? Did you kill him?!”

“Please, just ignore him. And don’t worry, he won’t die that easily.”

“Alright…”

“You know, Arya… There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“Huh?”

The boy was about to make his confession, but just before forming the words in his mouth, his conscience pulled him back. He felt like this would just be taking advantage of the moment rather than creating a meaningful one.

“Tonight…” he swallowed hard, gathering his courage. “It’ll be a full moon. Would you like to watch it with me? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about… in private.”

The girl didn’t take long to realize that this was the moment she had been waiting for. With a smile on her face, she answered, “Yes! It’s a promise!”

After setting their meeting, the two found themselves staring at each other again, swallowed by silence. As their faces burned with embarrassment, Arya quickly found an excuse to escape the situation.

“I-I think I’ll go organize my clothes now. Excuse me…”

“Alright, that’s fine! I’ll try to wake Peter up, and then we can start packing our things too.”

The girl was already walking away, but she stopped midway.

“Edward.”

“Hm?”

“I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Noticing the tone of her words, Edward smiled with happiness.

“So am I.”

(...)

The afternoon passed quickly as the young ones busied themselves with preparations for their journey. Meanwhile, Belchior and the rest of the villagers secretly planned a farewell party.

The sun began to sink below the horizon, and soon night arrived. Oil lamps flickered to life, illuminating the road that connected the few houses in the village.

Meanwhile, inside Belchior’s house…

“Old man, what’s this?” Peter stared at a silver medallion, slightly oval in shape, with an engraved relief of a bird, a sword, and what seemed to be a shotgun crossed behind it.

“Remember when I told you I was once part of the Mercenaries’ Guild? This is the emblem they give to all members.”

“And what’s it for?”

“It serves as identification, but also as a keepsake from the Guild for those far away from it. Anyway, where are the other two? I need to explain a few things to you all.”

“About that… They’re on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah.”

“The two of them… are going on a date?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“They’re… Finally! YES!!”

Belchior always prided himself on maintaining the image of a serious and sophisticated man, but at that moment, he couldn’t contain his impulse to celebrate.

As tears of joy streamed down his face comically, he pulled Peter into a side hug, both of them crying in happiness.

“Yes, old man, they finally…”

“Yeahhhh!!!” Peter and Belchior shouted together to finish celebrating—they couldn’t have been happier if the two had finally gotten together.

“Anyway, let me give you some instructions.”

“Alright! I’ll try to pay attention!”

Belchior smacked Peter on the head with a rolled-up piece of paper. “Trying isn’t enough! Make sure you pay attention!”

“Argh… Okay.”

“Here.” Belchior handed Peter the paper. As he unrolled it, he realized it was a map.

“Ohh!” The boy noticed a marked area. “Floating Moonlight City…? What’s this?”

“That’s the city that houses the Mercenaries’ Guild. If you become mercenaries, you might have the luck to find a way back home.”

“I think things are a bit more complicated for the two of us. This Mercenaries’ Guild… are they really trustworthy?”

“Who am I to say? I was part of it. You’ll find mercenaries of all kinds, but if there’s one thing they all have in common, it’s that they dedicate their lives to hunting demons.”

Belchior held out his mercenary emblem to Peter.

“This might come in handy.”

“Huh?”

“Even though you’re not members of the Guild, showing this emblem and explaining where it came from might give you a chance to speak.”

“What do you mean? A chance to speak?”

“Arya is a necromancer. To many people, her mere presence is a threat. Showing this emblem might be a way to prove which side you’re on.”

Peter stared at the emblem in his hand. Looking more closely, he noticed something inscribed along the edge of the medallion: “M E M E N T O   M O R I.”

“Memento Mori…”

“Yes, that’s the motto of the Mercenaries’ Guild.”

“I don’t really like thinking about death. I’d rather live my life my own way, so that when death comes, I won’t have any regrets.”

“But that’s exactly what it’s about. It’s not about thinking of death—it’s about accepting its existence. You have to make the most of every moment because, in the end, there’s only one path waiting for us.”

Belchior sat by the window, enjoying the breeze as he ran his fingers through his distinguished mustache.

“You know, some people in this world refuse to believe in Mors. But for those who have witnessed death, there’s no doubt about who truly governs this world.”

“Is that why you became a devotee of Mors?”

“No, I was already a believer long before I met my wife. Knowing that one day death would claim us only made me cherish that love with all my heart.”

“And when she died, you just moved on?”

“It wasn’t easy at all. I would have preferred a thousand times over that I had gone first. But every time I look at the stars, I remember that one day I’ll return to them, and that soothes my heart a little. Every star in the sky is the soul of someone who has passed.”

“Accepting the death of loved ones… No, I can’t! My head just can’t grasp that feeling.” Peter sat down, letting his frustration show. “This is way too complicated for me! But… I guess, in the end, we all find our own way to deal with death.”

Belchior gazed at the boy thoughtfully.

“Peter, I’m getting too old. I don’t want Arya to stay in this village and watch me wither away. I want the image of a proud father and teacher to be the one that stays in her memories.”

“To me, you’ll always be the old man who saved my life.”

“Thank you, brat. I hope you always remember me that way because those memories will be my legacy.”

“Don’t worry, old man. I will.”

“Anyway, let’s save the gloomy talk for another time. I was preparing a farewell party with the rest of the village, but since those two are busy, we might have to delay it a little.”

Peter raised his hands. “I wouldn’t dare interrupt their conversation.”

“Hoho! Me neither. Let’s play something while we wait for them to come back.”

...

A few minutes after they started their board game, a sudden sound interrupted their fun.

“Kyaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” A woman’s scream rang out from within the village.

“What was that?” Peter asked, startled.

“The rest of the villagers should be preparing the party.”

“Could it have been an accident?”

“I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about this…”

Belchior’s sixth sense told him that scream wasn’t just an accident—it was a sign of danger.

And unfortunately for him, he was right.

Danger was no longer knocking at the door.

It had just kicked it wide open.