Waning Warmth

The walls grew taller as we neared. Cries of joy echoed through the carriage.

Drawing my head back inside, I could see the smiles of the passengers. It was as if all of their worries had simply vanished.

Over two weeks had passed since the fog attacked the village and forced us to evacuate.

Arriving in Riges meant settling down at last. The stress of the trip would be gone, and they would no longer have to deal with my presence.

I chuckled.

I had mixed feelings about the situation.

In a way, I felt relieved.

I wouldn’t be confined by this carriage any longer, though it would mean leaving my comfort zone. I also wouldn’t suffer in the villagers’ presence.

They would be able to forget about my existence from now on, which made me glad but troubled at the same time.

But I couldn’t be selfish. They had been afraid of me from the beginning. I couldn’t simply continue tagging along.

Nonetheless, I also felt like I would lose my sole sense of security, my sense of certainty.

The fact that this journey wouldn’t end until we reached our final destination helped me carry on. I knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere else until reaching the end of the road. But now that it was ending, I had nowhere else to go.

There was no certainty from there on.

The rope I had clung to was now severed, its loose end floating in a vast, dark void. I would have to bind it to something else, and that was terrifying.

Lack of familiarity with the culture and language would significantly complicate my stay. It brought back memories of the day I arrived in Japan. Despite not knowing the language, I managed to navigate the city and even rent an apartment.

Back then, all I cared about was pushing through my suicidal thoughts. Everything else seemed trivial in comparison.

But here, I wouldn’t be able to do the same. How would I even learn the language? Would I need to learn it by talking to others? That was the only option that came to mind.

Would people even try to help? Would they shun me just like the villagers? I didn’t know. There were too many uncertainties, but I still believe it would be possible. Etaxuos did approach me, and the people in Mida didn’t avoid me.

Maybe the void wasn’t as dark as I thought.

The carriage jolted to a stop.

Sacks rustled, metal clinking and grating inside them. The passengers began chatting loudly with one another.

Glancing at the Armoured Guy, he seemed to be talking through the wall with the soldier driving the carriage. After a few seconds, he sat back down and closed his eyes, simply listening to the other passengers’ conversations.

I decided to peek outside once again.

We were right before the gate, with the carriage in front stopped at the entrance. Some of the soldiers were most likely talking with the guards. It was difficult to imagine them simply allowing several carriages to enter the city without any kind of verification or approval.

Our carriage was still rather far away from the gate, but above it, I could barely make out flags gently swaying with the breeze.

They were mostly dark blue with a crest woven in the centre. However, even though I couldn’t see all of its details, it didn’t look like the coat of arms I found above Mida’s castle door. They were certainly different, meaning the castle wasn’t built under the rule of Riges.

I gazed at the golden fields. Ripples were slowly formed by the wind and travelled the whole distance until my eyes could no longer see them. I let the zephyr glide between my fingers, hoping it would carry my fears away. It calmed me, and I could almost fall asleep to this scenery.

After a few minutes, the carts began moving again. It seemed like we had been allowed entrance to the city.

I glanced up as we crossed the tall gates. A towering shadow was cast on the carriages, turning the warmth of the sun into a brief chill. I was left baffled by the overpowering presence of the city.

As I briefly turned to the side, I noticed one of the guards holding a letter and showing it to the others.

They were clad in full white, with a metal pin on their chest and a sword at their waist.

Was the letter what allowed us to enter Riges? Maybe the delay had been for its verification. I couldn’t tell.

The crunch of dirt gradually turned to the uneven rattle of cobbled roads as the wheels jolted and bounced. The whole wagon shook violently, dipping and rising in the rhythm of the echoing thuds. The bustling chatter of Riges could be heard all the way from the entrance.

The flow of mana felt even more disrupted and unruly than it had back in Tristte or Mida. The buildings likely bent the currents out of shape, while the large crowds bled mana into the air.

Training with mana would likely feel off at first.

I kept my head craned outside the carriage.

The houses and edifices were made of layered wood, blending different types and painted over, or of smoothed stone. The edges and frames were detailed with stone brick patterns, and diagonal strips of darker wood added charm to the otherwise plain surfaces.

They vastly ranged in colour, from white or beige to some more exotic colours like darker greens or redder shades. But all the roofs looked the same. Bright orange brick tiles glistened under the sunlight, with windows jutting out and casting warm glows onto the streets.

I watched as the carts ahead of us rolled further into the city, disappearing around corners I couldn't see past. However, strangely, our carriage halted, pulling to the right of the round entryway.

The carriages behind ours slowly passed by, following the others.

The Armoured Guy got up. He had a sad, reluctant expression as he weaved between the passengers and knelt beside me to unlock the wooden board.

The hinges squeaked as the board dropped down. The Armoured Guy put his left hand on my right shoulder.

“Come,” he said, pulling me slightly. By now, I understood that “sige~” meant “come”.

We both hopped off the carriage, while the rest of the villagers continued seated.

With both hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes, he said, “Art tro dra po gorote~ lhantiret ato larime xi po kroxaly. Tazux ver jire~ atar e adarer xavir.”

Though I couldn't understand what he said, the pain in his voice was unmistakable. Those words seemed to hurt him more than me.

He painfully gripped onto my shoulders. His hands quivered slightly.

Those words didn’t feel like his. He looked like he was forcing himself to say them. But I understood his position and knew what I had to do.

I softly smiled at him, closing my eyes, and bowed deeply. The only words I could come up with were, “I-I’m sorry.” I shivered, my voice cracking as I told him. I knew he didn’t understand what I was saying, but I had to tell him regardless.

I felt guilty.

I was sorry for making the villagers live in fear for the past two weeks.

I was sorry for being a nuisance, never doing anything to help, and making him have to feed me every day.

I was sorry for eating the food meant for them.

But most importantly, I was grateful for everything he had done and for them to allow me to come along.

My fist clenched around the edges of my cloak.

For that, and everything else, I was truly sorry.

Tears dripped to the ground, their splashes overwhelmed by the city’s atmosphere.

I raised my head and tried to smile at him through my tears, as if hoping he would understand how grateful I was.

My lips quivered, my smile barely holding together, my eyes red with tears. I didn’t have the courage to say anything else.

I just stood still, silently crying.

The Armoured Guy briefly squinted his eyes, as if forcefully hiding his feelings, and rapidly turned away, boarding the carriage again.

He locked the hinged board in place and shouted firmly, “Ver gokare~ jir,” as he turned around, as if telling the soldier to get the cart moving again.

I realised I had never asked for his name before, but doing so now would most likely jeopardise his relationship with the others.

Watching him leave without knowing his name was heartbreaking, but there was nothing I could do right now.

The villagers looked at me with disgust, repeating “xanture e anarit” in between chatter. They were eager to leave me behind, and I had already accepted it.

But it hurt.

Completely still, I watched the carriage grow smaller until it faded into the background. I wiped my tears with my sleeve. I knew it would turn out this way, but it still hurt.

Amid the city’s overbearing cries, I was once again left all by myself.