Chapter III: Le Marquis de Lumétia

With a finger, I slowly caress my lips, so as to let a new smile shines under the immense expanse of the crystal blue sky – intertwined with the orange blaze of dusk. Right after, I let my eyes fall upon a small object, some sort of medallion – of vivid purple and yellow – forming what seems to be a star; as for its back, a drawing of three people could be seen. All of it is intricate, loved but more importantly maintained in pristine condition.

That boy must have really loved his family. But… looking at his current state, they’re probably already all dead.

Then, so very abruptly, a small noise, similar to a grunt, echoes within the tower. So, I quickly turn my gaze towards the boy, who seemingly harbours a faint smile – ever more genuine than mine – whilst trying to sit up.

“Finally awake?” I inquire.

“Thanks to you, I suppose,” he says all the while analysing the floor, from left to right, with his eyes, “I am Arctedius de Lumétia and… could I have the pleasure of knowing my saviour’s name?”

“You don’t have to so formal, Arctedius; social niceties are useless when you’re stranded alone in front of a stranger.” Whilst saying so, I return him the medallion. “I think it’s something important to you, so I cleaned it up. As for your clothes, you will have to wait for tomorrow before they dry up.”

“Ah… Thank you.”

“My name, hum… You can call me Athisia.” And just as these words escape my mouth, I softly outline my lips – revealing a smile in turn.

Then, I sit before him.

“You must have many questions for me, right, Athisia? But I think you have already guessed the gist of it.” The purple-haired boy smiles at me playfully, whilst holding a finger in front of his mouth.

I curtly sigh.

“I do have questions and yes, I also have my guesses, but you’re in no way or shape to correctly answer them, Marquis de Lumétia. You should really just rest up in the meantime. Though…” I briefly pause. “I do have one question as it is pertaining to our security: why and how did you fall from the upper floor?”

With a wry smile, the young marquis answers me back.

“I got trapped on the fourth floor, whilst investigating a scroll. Then, another trap activated at the same time, so, I fell down to the bottom.”

So, it was a skill issue all along.

“I see…”

“And please, you don’t have to call me marquis, as you have already said, it doesn’t hold much value in this situation… Rather, you can just call me Arctedius, just like I can simply call you Athisia.”

“Very well, Arctedius. Though, I’m going to prepare supper, so don’t move too much for now.”

Oddly, an uncertain warmth comes to envelop my face all the while a fluttering beat from deep within makes itself known.

Maybe I longed for human interactions more than I would like to admit. But do I have any right to become his friend…?

-x-

For supper, I prepared a beef stew, with the flesh of a deer I just hunted alongside some herbs I picked up. I then hand the young boy before me a bowl I retrieved from his belongings.

“Huh, I don’t mean to be offensive but… it’s flavourless.”

According to the offence I just received, I stare daggers at him.

“You’re lacking taste, that’s all there is.” I respond in kind with frowned eyebrows.

He then softly laughs, whilst a new glint envelops his star-lit eyes.

“Ahem… so, you’re feeling any better?” I try to retake the initiative in this conversation.

“Yeah, I can move a bit more compared to before but it still hurts a lot; still can’t get up for example.”

“I see. It’s good then, you’re on the way to healing.”

The marquis then deposes his bowl after finishing eating, before rubbing his cheek in contemplation whilst staring at me.

“You know, Athisia. You’re one interesting fellow, you seem younger than me, yet you exhibit proficiency in skills that even most adults don’t have – myself included. Though, I can’t say much about your social skills.” He finishes off with a pesky smile.

That kid… It’s good that he became comfortable enough with me but not this comfortable!

“If you’re talking that smoothly, it means that you now can answer my questions, right?” I let out a composed retort.

“Well, of course. But I think that you’re most curious about the [Witch of Tragedy], since that’s probably one of the first impressions I left on you.”

Yeah, and you lying in a pool of blood next to my feet.

I simply nod in affirmation.

“You’re young, so I must ask if you know anything about the world pre-Requiem?”

“No, not at all.” I tilt my head to the side in curiosity.

“In a way, it’s fortunate for you to not have gone through it; too many broken hearts and dreams after all, and too many lives lost,” he then looks longingly at the orange sky, “however, virtually all, if not all, of the current world’s affairs are derived from the Requiem. So, let’s begin with that:

“The [Requiem] – just a measly twenty years ago – extinguished Humanity’s last lights, our pride, our way of life, our nations, paving the way to a new world, derelict and dilapidated, where Demonkind, our sworn enemies, reign supreme. Of course, I was just one year old when all hell broke loose, but I still vividly remember the radiant and unbowed banners of Mankind – federated under a single coalition – fighting against these Man-eating Monsters with all of their might. Yet, it was all futile – for, in the end, Humanity ultimately lost…

“How? Why? We should have had the upper hands with our demographics and superior numbers, we even penetrated deep into their lands! However, the Demons resorted to the vilest and most hideous techniques, hurgh…”

He coughs, once twice. Then, so very swiftly, he grabs his right tight, trying to massage it up and down; yet only perspiration and a ragged breath await him.

“Try to breathe in… and out, Arctedius. In… and out. Inside and outside. Let the oxygen flows in.” I say that whilst supporting him by his shoulder.

And he does just as instructed: he takes multiple breaths, trying to calm himself out – in and out. Though, it seems that he’s still pale and sweating quite a lot.

“Yeah, it hurts less. But you know, it still hurts a lot, so very profoundly.” He proclaims with a contorted smile – with blue crystals erupting all around his eyes – whilst looking at me in the face.

“Keep your breath to yourself for the moment, idiot…” I calmly reply back. “For now, you should just rest, our little conversation can wait for tomorrow.”

And so, I trace the layout of my lips with a finger, so as to let a faint smile emerges, before departing.

Yet, Arctedius grips me with a trembling hand. And alongside it, with a weak and soft voice, his words pour themselves out to the word.

“Wait… Athisia… You need to know…”

I gently try to remove his hand, whilst turning my back.

“It can wait tomorrow, Arctedius, you’re in no state to continue.”

But even then, he comes back and grips me harder, applying more and more pressure, almost piercing me with his nails – knuckles becoming white.

“Athisia.”

Why is he so stubborn…?

I finally relent down, and turn back to once again face him. But, unexpectedly, a face flowing with relentless yet silent tears greets me back; yet, even in this state, he continues on to smile, gently and playfully. Hence, at that sight, I could only sit down.

I can’t understand. How can his smile be so truthful?

“Athisia,” his smile seems to grow bigger, “the Demons, they can use Magic – whilst we cannot – and with it, they devised a weapon that turned the very essence of life, the soul, into life itself. Humankind has always loved flowers – with their soothing and gentle radiance – so in turn, they turned our love into death, permanent death; for, with the death of the soul, the cycle of reincarnation is all but cut up.”

I see. So, this is how it is. What a messed up world… So, Father and Loris and all the others, they can’t even…

I see.

Then, quickly and in loud succession, Arctedius follows up: “But in rare exceptions, when the soul is strong enough, one can resist what we call the [Blossoming Elegy], when one’s insides are turning up into flowers. This must surely be why you and I are still alive! This is why… why… we still have a purpose—

“—to find the [Witch of Tragedy]! She has the cur…”

And in just a moment, the so very hopeful boy before me faints; yet, a smile can still be seen on his face as if there was nothing to hold his way.

In turn, I also smile; this time without using my finger.

Then, is my hero’s duty to rekindle the light of Humanity, so that no one else has to through the Blossoming Elegy again?