Chapter 10 - He who seeks

Knock. knock.

“…”

Knock. knock.

“…Fine.” Cestela opened the front door.

“Major Vielle, good morning,” smiled Solyon.

Cestela was surprised. She couldn’t be sure during the last battle due to his helmet but she would’ve gambled that he was upset with her at the very least. Instead, he arrived smiling weakly… maybe even forced. “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“… If I refuse?”

“Haha. It’s a little chilly out on the catwalk.”

“It’s the middle of August.”

“Ha. Definitely cold.”

“… Fine.” Cestela walked into her home leaving the door open.

It was barely a formal invitation, but Solyon did not complain. He entered the warm greenhouse and marveled at the various flowers growing. “They’re beautiful.”

“…” Cestela didn’t respond. Instead, she started boiling some water. She figured she needed the unknown healthy benefits of tea to survive this conversation. She chose a humble tea bag of hibiscus. While waiting for the water, she decided to play a quiet song on her record player to fill the silence.

“What a lovely song.” Solyon took a seat alone at the table.

Cestela couldn’t explain why he let him in. If anything, it was simply that his knocking was gentle. She poured the hot tea into her cup slowly mixing in sugar till it satisfied her. But, even when it did, she remained at the kitchen that lied at the edge of the greenhouse watching the sunlight wrap around the iron supports.

Solyon resumed, “… It had a face.”

“Statues tend to do.”

“But its face changed.”

“That’s nothing new.” Cestela sipped her tea. It seemed like hibiscus was the wrong choice. “Just because it was a bit smaller, you decide it was special?”

“Maybe the regular-sized ones are no different.”

A dry hiss. The vinyl record skipped a line. “Have you considered you’re being overly optimistic? What fairy tale have you been reading?”

Solyon smiled, looked into his hands, and his smile faded. “Have you considered why they take human form?”

Cestela started boiling some more water in hopes a different tea suited the occasion. “Quite frankly, I don’t. People make meaning of clouds who simply exist. They’re simply your own selfish ideas. After all, a tunnel echoes because it’s empty not because it’s capable of holding a conversation.”

“But how are you so sure?”

“I don’t need to be sure. I just need to be alive.” Perhaps, chamomile.

“Are we really alive if we’re stuck in this iron prison?”

Finally, Cestela turned from the iron crosshatch of her greenhouse windows and locked eyes with Solyon. His eyes were firm even if Cestela hated his words. She considered retorting something along the lines of, ‘We’re alive now, aren’t we?’ But even Cestela knew that wasn’t what he meant. Instead, she let him continue.

“Isn’t it sad that we accept our iron box and don’t peek outside? Without even checking if there’s green grass past the white dust of the Stéle?”

Unfortunately, chamomile wasn’t it either. Cestela felt her insides churn. “No… it would be sadder to give the city false hope. Crushed hope can kill a person and even I can’t heal that.”

“But they’re still alive.”

“…” The words Cestela wanted to say earlier was somehow twisted against her.

“They can hope again.”

“You talk like one of those Horizon Seekers.”

Solyon smiled. “Do I? That’s reassuring. I asked General Pauma this morning to transfer me.”

A dull hum. The vinyl record reached the end of its song. Cestela began exchanging it with another. “Straight to the general, huh? Jumping the chain of command, as usual.”

“He supported it.”

“I’m sure he did. He was one too.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, before he became known as the Dragonslayer. But he quit.”

“…”

“Those Horizon Seekers only brought back two things: false hope and less boots than they left with.”

“…”

“Even Old Pauma eventually quit.”

“But he approved my transfer.”

“That’s far from admirable, second lieutenant. I pity you. Pauma didn’t approve your transfer because he believes in you. He approved it because he’s tired of carrying the corpse of the hope he lost… and your back looked strong enough to take that weight. And you will end up the same. Distances traveled, but finding absolutely nothing.”

“… Maybe I won’t. But there’s beauty in that too.”

“In the emptiness of the world?”

“In the potential of our world. We could make something out there.” Solyon stood up and walked to the door. He turned around smiling at Cestela. No hostility. To Cestela, it was disgustingly earnest. “I’ll probably leave next week to the North.”

“…”

“I’m guessing you won’t join me.”

“I haven’t received approval to die quite yet.”

“Good. Can’t wait to see you when I return.”

And so, he left.