Made it through one more day

Seven months later.

Society bordered on the brink of collapse after the disasters of that day. Blessedly, the Council had somehow managed to keep the nation from breaking apart, although those involved in the politics knew our remaining structure was made out of wet wood—the kind that wouldn't endure another gust of wind.

But for the majority of the population, this illusion of stability was believable enough that some were going back to the traditional art of having loud squabbles in the marketplace.

I followed the ruckus of one such commotion—less out of concern, and more out of just looking for something to do. People had gathered a small crowd around the whirlpool created by the two arguing men.

"You're nuts if you think I'm paying that. We had an agreement." Grunted the lovable mister on the left, who could convince me that the natural color of his face was red.

"And I have a family to feed. Do you know how absurd prices are getting in the northern region? You won't find a better deal, I tell you." The other side of the argument was defended by a guy about as thick as a stick waving around a blond tress that I had to admit exuded remarkable taste.

"I don't care." Mister Red-face replied. "We agreed on forty-five crystal marks, and I'm either getting my goods for forty-five crystal marks or you ain't selling anything else in this city."

"Are you threatening me?" Golden Locks looked aghast, perhaps offended even.

"I'm making a promise. And unlike some people, I fulfill my promises."

I figured this to be as good a time as any to butt in. "Greetings, good sirs. May I—"

"Piss off," was Mr. Red's kind answer to my intervention. Goldy didn't say anything, just murdered me with his gaze, then both gentlemen turned away and resumed their bickering.

I could work with this. Far from the worst reception I'd ever gotten. But just as I stepped closer to try a different approach, Mr. Red shoved his rival away.

My body rushed to take hold of Goldy's shoulders and save him from the embarrassing fall.

"Don't touch me!"

He proceeded to push me, perpetuating the chain of shoves. Unsurprisingly, no one tried to catch me as I fell backwards, so I crashed on a nearby stand. A mildly annoying sting burned in my hand as I realized my wrist was now pierced by the spikes of a sea urchin. It was in rather deep, perhaps all the way to the bone.

Crimson drops pooled from the cuts, leisurely forming a small puddle on the stone beneath. If left unchecked, the wound could become somewhat serious, so it would probably be in my best interest to do something about it soon.

The blood kept dripping. Another drop. Then another. Then—

"By the Divines! I'm so sorry." Goldy's shout ripped me back to the real world. "I swear I didn't mean for this to happen." He kneeled and started rummaging in his bag. "Stay still, I always carry some first aid supplies."

His attitude almost made me want to smile for real. When push came to shove a quill through your wrist, Goldy turned out to actually be a good-natured fella. And Mr. Red surely shared some of the positive traits of his friend. They were both just having a rough day, that was the only reason they'd acted like two mutts fighting over a morsel.

"It's quite alright," I replied as I plucked the urchin from my hand, which immediately turned it into a miniature fountain. Right after Goldy'd had enough time to gasp and turn blue, a similar hue of light covered my wrist. The glow reflected in his eyes for a blink, then disappeared along with any remains of my wound—well, except for all the blood.

"Blessed Mahseer. This man's a Paladin." Mr. Red murmured.

I sighed, which prompted a few gazes to turn away, perhaps ashamed. To them, it must have sounded like I was annoyed—since it did take them a minute to figure out my identity—but in fact, this was just the same reaction I'd have at someone calling turtle frogs pretty.

An offense to things that were actually pretty.

Regardless, the next few minutes flowed like the rivers: I asked about the origin of their conflict, they cooperated eagerly, allowed me to mediate, and after not even a quarter of an hour the entire matter was resolved—both parties satisfied and back to being friendly trading buddies.

Yay…

I'm so good at a task any idiot with some authority could do.

I went on my way, though some people kept their gazes fixed on me for a little too long, slow to realize that gawking at strangers wasn't the most proper social behavior. Soon enough though, I was left alone, which meant certain thoughts would start creeping back in. Luckily that didn't last.

"You handled the situation so nicely! Great job, Dori," a melodious yet masculine voice chimed in. No one else but him would come up with a nickname like Dori as short for Corydorin. "I'm glad it all ended well, but also, sorry you got hurt."

I made up a snicker. "Come on, you know I've been through far worse than a few small pricks."

"They still hurt, didn't they?"

"A little, but it's fine."

He nodded once, then twice, then a few times, and afterwards his head tilted. "I don't mean to lecture you, but wouldn't it have been easier if you'd started by telling them who you are?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I'd assumed they'd recognize me on sight. Totally forgot I'm not wearing my armor, hehe."

"Oh, you're so silly sometimes." His fingers brushed away one of his dark braids. "This reminds me of the time we both lost our purses in the bathhouse. We were such airheads and when we tried to go back…"

In fact, I hadn't lost mine, I'd made it up so I could help him search for his without him putting up excuses like "you don't need to concern yourself with my lil' problems. Although it's true that if the situations were reversed I'd be ready to spend the entire evening searching for yours because I'm just that sweet and caring."

He went on and on narrating that anecdote like I hadn't been with him that day. The story and words themselves didn't matter that much. The magic lay in the way he spoke—the positivity he imbued into even the most mundane of moments. His tone of voice was soft, far too gentle for someone his size, and the luster of his ebony skin made it seem like he glowed. The lushness of his moss-dark eyes bestowed the same peace of mind as a colorful garden. I'd be fine with him spending the entire duration of his conscious cycle rambling without purpose.

I was always fine with Oscar just being Oscar.

"You okay there, Dori?"

"Eh? Ah, sorry, I spaced out. What were you talking about?"

"Nah, forget it. Go on and tell me something yourself. How was your day? Also, sorry I couldn't come out earlier."

"No worries."

If anything, I was sorry someone like him had to be stuck with me.

ᗢ⫘⫘⫘⫘𖦹⫘⫘⫘⫘♡

My steps echoed in the white hall. It was a wide, long corridor with a ceiling so tall you could fit an entire house or two. Every breath tasted dry in a refreshing kind of way, like finally taking a proper inhale after a lifetime of choking on the soaken air of the swamps.

No one else was here—only the two of us. That gave the visit a certain air of… exclusivity.

We passed by a few dozen statues before reaching the one we'd come to visit. His platform included a steel plate that contained a brief overview of his best-known traits and achievements, but none of those empty words captured his true being.

The statue itself, however, was a different story. Carved in solid granite and regal like a Divine, it made him appear impervious to time itself—the details of the eyes so deep you could see the decades of experience behind them.

His beard on the other hand looked soft—spongy, even—like it belonged to a mellow grandpa. They even included the mole next to his nose. Impressive.

"It's a bit hard to keep track of time lately," Oscar hummed. "How long has it been since Jacks… you know."

"A little under two years." Despite not being louder than his, my voice resounded on the walls.

Oscar nodded and continued observing the statue of our mentor, the former Paladin of Temperance. I turned my head back, at the older pieces, starting with the previous Justice. Her portrayal was that of an imposing woman at the peak of physical prowess, which I found much less interesting than the dynamic old lady I'd gotten to know. When she retired, I'd worried her successor would be too much of a tightbutt by comparison. Instead I got the best possible surprise in the form of Oscar.

As for the former Fortitude, he was about as stereotypical as his kind could get. Wide-shouldered, silent, a little bitter, but ever ready to shield anyone from danger. Like with Oscar, Betta had also been a subversion of my expectations, although in her own unique way.

Then I inspected the fourth and last statue from the past generation: Prudence. I never got to meet her—usually one only gets their Blessing once the previous user passes on.

Jacks had told me a few tales about their adventures together, and I'd enjoyed them like a kid listening to bedtime stories. They inspired me, made me dream of one day becoming at least a fraction of the legend my predecessor had been.

Nowadays, those stories were just another reminder of how low I was placing the bar for whoever succeeded me.

Oscar and I spent a few more minutes in silence, then he thanked me for bringing him and said we could leave if I wanted.

Which I did.

But just before I turned at the exit, I caught a glimpse of the most recent statue, the one the sculptors were still working on. It was set apart from the previous four since it didn't belong to their generation. That meant he was left on his own. Alone—a fate imposed on him through no fault of his own.