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Matabar. Chapter 51 - Old or new journey?
🕑 Added 2025-01-18 18:51:00 +0000 UTC“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“Yes, tonight.”
Ardi lay beside his brother in the snow, watching the sky. The snowy clouds clashed like rival armies, merging into vast sheets and then splitting apart like sullen, puffed-up kittens.
“Because you have to?” Erti asked.
Ardan’s younger brother, his cheeks flushed, was breathing heavily and coughing every now and then. Ardi, on the other hand, was breathing deeply, savoring the winter air and the closeness of the mountains he called home. Here, he felt far better than he did in the Metropolis. He thought that, just maybe, if he wanted to, he could even kick off his boots and, like in his childhood, race with the mountain eagles or wrestle a young bear.
Did he have to go back to the Metropolis?
“No,” Ardi replied.
He didn’t want to lie to his brother. Not more than was necessary, at least — just enough to let Erti live a better, more peaceful life than the one their grandfather and father had planned for Ardan…
Ardi smiled slightly at his own thoughts. It seemed like he was silently repeating words he’d once heard from Hector, back when he had been young.
“Then why?” Erti asked.
Nearby, Shaia and the youngest member of their family, Kena, were building snow castles while Kena cheerfully chattered about her lessons at the school for noble girls and her strict piano teacher. Their mother laughed, assuring Kena that her older brothers wouldn’t even be able to play the simplest melody.
Kelly was seated on the porch, wrapped in a thick fur coat, shivering every now and then despite the warmth, smoking a fat cigar, and reading the newspaper. According to the house rules of the Egobar-Brian family that had been established by Shaia, everyone had to spend at least three hours outdoors, even in winter.
And now, three days after the New Year’s celebration, they were all playing in the snow, laughing as if there was nothing to worry about. That was one thing Ardi loved about the holidays.
“You could stay and work with Anna’s brother,” Erti said, propping himself up on one elbow to look at Ardi. “Mother bragged for a whole month about how she’d arranged a position for you with the chief engineer of the bureau.”
He probably could have… and maybe he’d have done well there. But…
Ardan rose, then helped his brother to his feet, studying him closely. Even though Erti wouldn’t turn thirteen for another month, he was already growing into a fine young man, and he seemed more handsome than his older brother. Erti’s face had begun to develop high cheekbones, a sharp, but not too long nose, a determined chin, thick eyebrows that bordered on bushy, long, almost feminine lashes, and clear eyes that held a look of intelligence and a trace of melancholy.
“Will you write to me?” Ardan asked.
“You still haven’t answered me.”
“You haven’t answered me, either.”
“But I asked you first,” Erti replied, sticking his tongue out in a childish gesture that, given his growing stature, looked rather out of place — and all the funnier for it.
Ardi clapped him on the shoulder, feeling his taut muscles under his hand even through his brother’s thick coat, then turned eastward. Somewhere out there, beyond the long, shining line of the horizon, beyond the snowy plains, lay dense forests, and in their heart, on the ocean shore, stood the Metropolis.
Such a strange place. It both repelled him and yet, in the same breath…
Ardan recalled his discussions with Elena about the principles of Star Magic, his rare meetings with Boris, always full of sarcastic jokes and warmth, his classes at the Grand, where each session had revealed new mysteries of magic and the cosmos… and then there were his quiet evening conversations with Tess. Fleeting, but… cozy, somehow. Calm. Unhurried. They smelled of cocoa and just a tiny bit of jazz as well. How did jazz smell? It smelled like Tess.
Of course, in this catalogue of memories, the mystery of the Matabar tragedy and the “legacy” left to Ardi deserved an honorable mention, but it was far from his most pressing concern. And yet…
“If you found out someone had hurt Kena, what would you do, Erti?”
“I’d break their nose,” Erti answered decisively, without a moment’s hesitation.
“And if Kena had been the one to hurt that person first?”
“Badly?” Erti considered.
Ardan shrugged. The metaphor was already convoluted enough without adding more details.
“I’d break the person’s nose and then scold Kena,” Erti concluded after a moment. “Why do you ask?”
Ardan smiled, nudging him in the shoulder, like they’d used to do when they were kids and fishing together. Back then, they would often forget about the fishing rods entirely, spending hours just playing.
“There’s a puzzle, brother,” Ardan finally said. “And I want to solve it. Not because I have to, but because I… really want to.”
“Because you love puzzles?” Erti squinted at him. “Mother says you love them more than I do.”
Ardan thought about it. He really did want to know who was behind “Operation Mountain Predator,” and perhaps more importantly, why it had happened at all. And what sort of conspiracy could possibly stretch back almost a century.
Such a lengthy span of time pointed to the Firstborn, or perhaps to some deeply-rooted organization within the Empire itself, and…
Here he was, already trying to untangle the knot. And knowing himself, he would keep at it until he unraveled it completely. It was one of his annoying and not particularly useful traits.
Ardan didn’t want to deceive himself. He wasn’t some hero from his grandfather’s tales, seeking justice for the Matabar, as his father had done. Out of all the Matabar, he’d only ever known Aror and Hector. And even Hector had spent many years of his life as a man, not as a symbol of some ancient culture.
Yes, Ardi felt a pang of loss for his kinsmen, but… there was Erti — a cheerful, clever boy. There was his mother, finally finding some well-deserved rest in her new, steady life. There were also Kena and Kelly. All of them were his strange, slightly chaotic family.
He cared about them. They were the ones he thought of the most. He wanted to secure a good life for them. And as for the Matabar… Yes, they occupied his thoughts, but less so than his upcoming end-of-the-year-exams. Perhaps that was wrong. Perhaps he was disrespecting his ancestors… or at least half of them.
“If I stay, Erti,” Ardan finally found the words, “then someday, years from now, I’ll look eastward and wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t chickened out. If I’d returned to the capital.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I’ve seen the way Grandfather looked northward, toward the Alcade,” Ardi replied. “Back then, I thought he was missing someone, but now I understand that he used to deeply regret something he hadn’t done. And it was eating him from the inside.”
Erti frowned and snorted.
“You talk in riddles, brother,” Erti crossed his arms. “And you’re not that much older than me to start being all mysterious… I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“To be honest, I don’t understand it myself,” Ardi admitted, spreading his arms out. “I’m going back to the capital because I want to, and also… because I have to.”
“Usually, if I’m being honest, I don’t want to do what I’m supposed to do,” Erti mused. “Take my evening job in the saloon, for example, where I clean up in the kitchen — a classic example.”
“What if you worked at a shooting range?” Ardi winked, aware of Erti’s deep love for firearms of all kinds.
“That would be pure joy.”
“But you’d still have to work to eat.”
“Only I wouldn’t feel like it was an obligation and…” Erti trailed off, raising a thoughtful finger. “I get it! You have to, but you don’t see your puzzle as a duty because you genuinely want to solve it!”
“Well, would you look at that…” Ardi scratched the back of his head, almost knocking his hat into the snow. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“That’s because you got your Matabar blood from Father, and I got the brains,” Erti teased, smirking.
If only he knew what Hector had thought about his own intelligence… but there was no need to rain on his parade. Although… Ardi noticed the clenched fists Erti was carefully hiding. Evidently, his little brother hadn’t inherited the man’s brains, but rather, their father’s impatience and his love for a good brawl.
Ardi, even as a student of Ergar, had always tried to avoid confrontations over the mountain paths. If he had to fight, he fought seriously, of course. But he usually followed Skusty’s guiding principle: “A good head beats a good paw.” Though, in hindsight, maybe his advice had been literal, because the squirrel loved cracking nuts with his forehead just to prove a point.
“Let’s join the others,” Ardi said, pulling his brother along to where their sister and mother were waiting.
They gathered around Kena and Shaia and helped the little one build an ice castle. Then, with Kena now assuming the role of “winter princess,” they played at defending her castle from invaders.
Erti threw snowballs, boasting that he was a “snow giant” destined to conquer the princess’ castle, while Ardi crafted small, birdlike snow creatures to fly around and follow Kena’s commands.
Shaia laughed until she cried, and Kelly continued to puff on his cigar, muttering something about politics.
The game grew heated, and soon, Erti and Kena were trying to shed their coats, only to have Shaia herd everyone back indoors to prepare dinner.
Inside, Shaia set to work in the kitchen, joined by Erti, who had recently developed a surprising fondness for cooking, and little Kena, who clung close to her beloved brother.
Ardi watched them disappearing down the corridor, nearly knocking over a vase in their excitement, and wondered when he’d next see his family. Hopefully in the summer.
“So, you’ve decided to leave,” Kelly suddenly spoke from behind him.
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Ardi nodded, stopping himself from saying more. Even after all these years, he still didn’t know quite how he felt about Kelly. The man loved his mother, though not with the type of ardor celebrated in songs or poems — it was more of a simple, practical kind of affection. Shaia returned it. They were two people with difficult lives who had found comfort in each other.
Kelly also cared deeply for Erti, and, unsurprisingly, he cherished Kena even more. Just as Ardi, too, cared for his brother more than anyone else. They both knew this about each other and, if not warmth, they shared a mutual respect because of it.
“Look after them,” Ardan said, surprising himself with the earnestness of his words.
Kelly squinted, giving him a look that seemed to view the boy in a new light.
“Already mixed up in some… family business, I’d bet,” the sheriff drawled. “Your eyes have changed. They used to have that warm look, naïve and kind to a fault. Now… Well, they’re still naïve, just a bit less so. And just as kind, only now it’s all… colder, somehow. Like a shard of ice got stuck inside of you.”
“Aean’Hane, when they learn names, leave pieces of them within themselves,” Ardi explained. “Which is why you must never be tempted by dark names — they’ll poison you forever, and-”
“I’m not talking about your magic,” Kelly waved his explanation off. “Come on.”
Ardi didn’t ask where or why they were going. They walked back into the main hall, where Kelly approached the tall, heavy cedar clock.
“It was here when we arrived,” he muttered, pressing something on the polished wooden paneling. The clock creaked and shifted to the side. With a grunt, Kelly pulled it open to reveal a narrow recess with a high, narrow gun safe. “The gardener gave me the code, which makes me think he’s not exactly a gardener… But don’t tell your mother, alright?”
“I won’t,” Ardi replied, holding himself back from mentioning that he already knew about the gardener’s true line of work — or at least his general activities.
Kelly spun the dial quickly, inputting the correct combination, and pulled open the solid door.
Inside, on narrow racks, sat two army rifles. Beneath them, in a wide compartment, lay two zinc cases filled with ammunition and several fully-loaded bandoliers. Above them, four revolvers rested on stands, and above those, surprisingly, were a few hand grenades.
“Feels like we’re preparing for a siege,” Kelly grumbled, selecting a revolver along with a bandolier and a box of bullets, which he handed to Ardi. “Have you learned to shoot yet? I remember you used to hit everything except the cans you were aiming at. The crows didn’t come by for months after your practice sessions. Shaia thought it was because of the scarecrow.”
Ardi grimaced as if he’d just bitten into something sour.
“So that’s a no, then,” Kelly concluded. “Still, take it, just in case. No matter what kind of mage you are, there’s always a chance you’ll need to know how to shoot and…”
“You won’t ever forget it,” Ardi finished the saying, taking the weapon and tucking it into the travel bag he’d packed earlier and then set aside near the doorway.
“Alright, big guy, let’s chat a little more before dinner’s ready. You can tell me more about the Metropolis. Strange place, that.”
“You have no idea how strange it actually is, Kelly…” Ardi sighed. “You seriously have no idea…”
They returned to the living room, where Ardi answered Kelly’s many questions about the capital. Soon enough, they were asked to help set the table, and, before long, they were all seated for dinner. They talked, shared stories, and laughed together.
Ardi, sitting there with his family, felt light and free. For a little while, he was… home. Even though the peaks of the Alcade were only faintly visible in the distance, he could still feel that warm, comforting, homely glow within himself.
But all good things must come to an end. When the first stars began to appear, a car horn blared outside the gate.
At the table, where a hearty meal of wild duck had been replaced by tea and pastries, a heavy silence fell upon all of them. Little Kena puffed her cheeks out slightly, but Erti pulled her close, and the girl relaxed. Kelly silently clasped Ardi’s shoulder, while his mother… She turned her gaze away so Ardi wouldn’t see her wiping away a tear.
“Let’s go,” Kelly said softly.
They all stood and made their way to the hall. Ardi pulled on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and was just about to put on his hat when his mother snatched it from his hands.
Getting up on her toes, she placed it on his head — just like when he was little — and then hugged him tightly, pressing her cheek to his chest.
“Come back after your spring exams,” she whispered, her voice barely remaining steady.
“Of course, Mother,” Ardi replied, unsure if he could keep his own voice from breaking.
They stood like that for a moment, and then Ardi embraced his brother firmly.
“Please remember to write this time,” Ardan reminded him.
“I won’t forget,” Erti nodded earnestly.
They let go of each other, and Kena, sniffling, looked down at the floor.
“Why are you leaving, Ardi?” She murmured. “You just got here…”
“Classes start in eight days, and the train ride is nearly seven of those.”
“What do you need classes for?! Classes are over there, and we’re here!” Kena protested, stomping her foot. “Don’t go!”
Ardi knelt down and gave her little, upturned nose a gentle tap.
“I’ll bring you a gift next time,” he said. “A huge, plush bear!”
“A… plush… what’s that?” Kena’s eyes lit up with curiosity.
“It’s a new type of toy, Kena. All the kids in the Metropolis are crazy about them.”
“Really, all of them?” She asked, doubtful.
“Yep,” Ardi smiled brightly.
“Well then… go and get one!” She giggled, clutching her mother’s leg. “Ardi’s going to bring me a bear!”
“Yes, dear, I heard…”
Ardan straightened, and he and Kelly exchanged a firm handshake. Ardi picked up his staff, slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbed his suitcase, and, nudging the door open with his shoulder, stepped out into the fresh, cold air.
A majestic Delpas night had taken over, filling the sky with constellations while the playful snow danced across the frozen surface of Blue Lake.
Crunching through the snow, Ardi made his way to the gate. But halfway there, he stopped. Ahead, beyond the snowbanks, near the cleared path, the Gardener was smoking in his rickety car. And behind him… behind him was his home. His home was not just the building, it was the people inside it.
Ardan wanted to look back, just like in those old stories his grandfather used to tell him. But in those tales, the hero was always warned: “Look back, and you’ll never be able to leave.” And so, shaking his head and gritting his teeth, Ardi took another step. Then another. And another. And by the Sleeping Spirits, each of those steps was harder than the ones he’d taken in his pursuit of the elven Aean’Hane.
Only after he was inside the government vehicle and as they were slowly driving away from number 17 on Stonemasons Street, did Ardan look back. He saw four figures standing at the window, waving at him. And only then did he let the lump in his throat rise and a single tear roll down his cheek.
Ardi turned away and sighed. Six months ago, he’d left his family out of necessity, and that had been difficult. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of leaving by choice and knowing he could have stayed. Realizing he was doing it not out of duty, but because he wanted to. He was driven by the desire to learn more about Star Magic, to unravel the mystery his family had pursued for generations, and… maybe even hear Tess sing that annoyingly catchy song one more time.
He glanced at his travel bag where his grimoire lay hidden. Maybe Velena Emergold had been right, back in the Grand’s library. Ardi truly had been irreversibly infected with the fever that forced someone to seek out knowledge.
“Thank you,” the Gardener suddenly said as he carefully navigated a sharp turn where a few people were struggling to pull a large vehicle out of a ditch.
“How much did you win?”
The man jerked the wheel, nearly sending them both off the road.
“Why do you-”
“You have new gloves,” Ardi pointed at the fine, moose-leather gloves lined with white fur lying beside the driver. “And government payday is still a ways off.”
“It could’ve been a New Year’s gift.”
“I thought as much,” Ardi agreed. “Until you thanked me. So, how much did you win?”
“By the Eternal Angels,” the Gardener muttered, coughing. “I feel like I’m driving with a seasoned investigator… Around one and a half exes. They were all just small bets, but I had enough takers.”
Ardi remembered how his little brother had once, half a year ago, made him (or rather, his school diploma) the subject of a bet.
“Is Erti having trouble at school?”
The man hesitated.
“You noticed, then…”
“Hard not to notice that his knuckles are bruised,” Ardan replied. “He tells Mother it’s from his work at the saloon.”
Ardi had no doubt that the sheriff also knew the real reason, but chose to turn a blind eye. That was likely what Hector would have done as well. But Ardi… he had always been gentle with his brother.
“Fans of the Tavsers?”
“What?”
“The Tavsers,” Ardi repeated. “The ones who-”
“I know who the Tavsers are,” the Gardener interrupted him with a sigh. “But here in Delpas, sir, those scoundrels were driven out long ago. Sure, there are a few people left who share their ideas, but they prefer to grumble at home. And besides, there are hardly any Firstborn in the city. As for half-bloods or those with a trace of Firstborn blood, there’s really not that many of them.”
“Is Erti being bullied?”
The man simply let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.
“Not exactly. At first, yes, they tried to pick on him. But then… Well, your brother ended up forming a little gang of his own. He’s friends with a half-blood, or maybe a quarter-blood… hard to tell. That one’s got a dwarf for a grandfather. Then a few other kids joined in as well. So now, believe it or not, there’s a little gang in town.”
Ardan nearly choked on air.
“You’re joking?”
“No joke,” the Gardener replied through gritted teeth. “They control the jobs on Lower Street — the one with the saloon. No schoolkid gets hired there without their say-so, and the other kids aren’t keen to cross them, either.”
Ardan opened and closed his mouth silently.
The man went on, watching Ardan’s incredulous expression with a wry smile.
“It all started out simply enough — Erti was being harassed. So, he made the best of it,” the Gardener continued. “They’ve done nothing serious so far. He’s been in a couple of scuffles, but the guards haven’t caught him yet. His little group doesn’t steal or do anything truly bad. They don’t go around picking fights or causing trouble. They just… handle the job arrangements. Oh, and they visit the shooting range every fifth day after school, then head to boxing classes.”
Ardan thought he understood. If Delpas was anything like the Metropolis when it came to finding work for Firstborn and their descendants, then this arrangement made an unfortunate amount of sense.
“And why don’t you…”
“Why don’t we intervene?” The Gardener snorted. “Should we blow our cover over something so minor? The Second Chancery, Mr. Egobar, is not the omnipresent force that lurks behind every shadow, despite what the papers claim. We have more important matters to attend to. Let the guards handle this.”
Ardi shook his head, now knowing exactly what he would write to Erti in his first letter. Then he couldn’t hold back a laugh. It was deep, unrestrained, almost to the point of him gasping for breath.
By the Sleeping Spirits… His brother, in just over half a year, had managed to settle in a new town, make friends out of strangers, and “take over” a whole street.
So much for staying out of trouble.
And Grandfather had said that the Egobar blood lay dormant in Erti and would never awaken.
“Yeah,” the Gardener sighed, “we had a good laugh over that ourselves. Even now, we still get a chuckle out of it when the guards try to catch your brother’s group. It’s like he has some sort of sixth sense for danger — hasn’t been caught once.”
“Are you-”
“Of course we’re keeping an eye on things,” the man waved a hand dismissively. “If they cross the line, don’t worry, we’ll stop it immediately. And honestly, think about it — wouldn’t it seem strange if Second Chancery agents stepped in over something like this?”
“Probably,” Ardi replied, laughing again until his sides hurt. Family was complicated, after all.
They drove past the estates, through narrow streets lined with modest houses, and finally turned onto the main avenue. Unlike how it had been during the New Year’s Eve festivities, the avenue was now lit up by a quieter glow, with a few more people strolling about. Couples clung together, moving from one establishment to the next. Bursts of laughter, cheerful greetings, and well-wishes filled the air. People were celebrating and carefree.
Except, perhaps, for the few workers at their posts: those stationed by the water towers, near the Ley cables, and…
Ardi leaned closer to the window. There, at a fork in the road, stood a group of people in fur coats who were surrounded by a pile of equipment, one of which looked like a large, tripod-mounted camera with numerous lenses and spinning reels. They were gesturing energetically, pointing from the road to the frosty pages of notebooks filled with diagrams and notes.
“They’re planning to lay down tram tracks in the summer,” the Gardener commented thoughtfully. “The capital allocated public transportation funds for cities with populations over a quarter million. This major transportation reform is at the Emperor’s initiative. Now they’re figuring out how to lay the tracks and connect them to the Ley cables so the trams can operate in winter as well. But I doubt they’ll finish by summer.”
He sighed and continued. “They’ll probably stretch it out over a couple of years here. And as for the rest of the country… ten years, at least. The factories are overworked as it is. Building new ones can’t keep up with demand. They need materials, manpower, engineers… And that’s not even counting transportation, trains, shipyards, and those blasted airships still under development. I think we’re looking at another industrial boom.”
Ardan barely registered the Gardener’s monologue. His attention was fixed on a square-jawed young man among the engineers whose face was so improbable that it almost looked like he had a brick lodged under his skin. Strangely, this feature didn’t make him unattractive. Pair that with his wheat-colored hair and Anna’s brother — who Ardan had heard had been quite popular with women before he’d married — was indeed striking.
But even he wasn’t Ardan’s main focus. Standing nearby, bundled up in a beautiful coat with a soft, coral-tinted fur collar, her hands nestled in her pockets, was a girl. Her long hair flowed down her back, and a sable hat sat atop her head.
The Gardener slowed down to let a truck pass, and the girl turned, her gaze meeting Ardan’s.
She hadn’t changed much in the time since he’d last seen her. If anything, she looked more composed and a bit more graceful. Gone was the lightness of girlhood. In her place stood a young lady.
Anna.
They looked at each other, and Ardi… He didn’t know what Anna was feeling, but he felt nothing more than a quiet warmth, like the affection he felt for Elena and Boris. His heart didn’t pound in his chest, and he didn’t even consider opening the door to rush outside.
She tilted her head slightly, smiled at him, and nodded softly, calmly. Ardan returned the gesture.
“Let’s move along,” the Gardener grumbled, and as if in response, the clunky engine rattled louder, carrying them farther from the crossroads.
She didn’t follow him with her gaze, simply turning back to her brother. Ardi watched a moment longer, then looked away as well.
They quickly made their way up the hillside, reaching the parking lot at the base of the staircase leading to the station.
Ardan stepped out, staff in hand, and, to his surprise, saw that the Cloak had also come outside for a smoke. The man pulled out a cheap cigarette, flicked his lighter, and sent tendrils of smoke into the cold night air.
Ardi coughed and moved back.
“I guess it’s bad for me,” the Cloak muttered, glancing at the red ember. “But it’s a habit from the northwestern front. When you’re out there on the Armondian border for days with no food, cigarettes help numb the hunger. They calm your nerves, too. That’s important, even healthy… Reign in that Witch’s Gaze, young Egobar… You should keep it in check, or else… well,” the Cloak shrugged, “you know what I mean.”
“I know,” Ardan acknowledged.
They stood there silently for a moment before the Cloak held out his hand.
“Until we meet again. And… I think I can safely add — until we meet again, colleague.”
Ardi grasped the unexpectedly strong, calloused hand.
“Not quite yet.”
“Yet,” the Gardener emphasized with a wink.
He took another drag, put out the cigarette between his fingers, and stashed the rest back in his pack. He climbed into the car, started the engine, and drove away. Ardan watched the taillights disappear into the night.
This Cloak couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old, and he was already talking about the Armondian border as if it were some dusty memory.
Ardan looked up, watching the moonlight play along the frozen crust that coated Blue Lake.
The world beyond the Alcade’s peaks and the familiar fields of Evergale was vast.
Ascending the station’s steps, Ardi walked in solitude. During the holidays, it was rare to encounter travelers. As he climbed, he pondered the teachings of Teacher Parnas. Teacher Parnas had often lamented the fact that the Empire was in a state of “hot peace,” not only with Fatia, but also with the Armondians. And yet, their hostility toward the Empire was different.
The Armondians had no formal state, consisting only of scattered tribes that were constantly at war with each other over land. They recognized no borders, and even their so-called “capital,” Armodan, was merely a nominal gathering point where tribes convened to trade.
N’gia also had border disputes with the Armondians, despite their historical ties. Their border was even more volatile than the Empire’s with Fatia. As for N’gia and the Empire, their border was largely composed of the Great Glacier, with only a small stretch of plains that was guarded well by two forts.
N’gia, moreover, had little need for anything from the Empire. They possessed ample resources of Ertaline ore (the primary material used in Ley accumulators and cables), oil, coal, iron, copper, and other valuable minerals. Unlike many nations, they lacked fertile land and relied heavily on trade with Tazidahian, which had made the Brotherhood a large and powerful country, primarily due to its access to the Shallow Seas and arable land.
Tazidahian’s expansionist tendencies in the pursuit of resources meant that it relentlessly supported Fatia in its struggles along its southern border. Should Fatia make any headway there, Tazidahian troops, along with their magically-modified soldiers — which had prompted the Empire to experiment with human chimerization unsuccessfully, unless one counted the sole existence of Yonatan Kornosskiy — would soon be at the Empire’s doorstep.
And why didn’t they attack directly? The answer lay in Tazidahian’s understanding that it needed Fatia to remain as it was, so the Tazidahian Brotherhood could concentrate on Urdavan, leaving Fatia trapped between the hammer and the anvil.
Or something like that.
Ardi was so engrossed in his thoughts of a world that had once seemed confined to books that he’d reached the ticket counter without even noticing. Inside, the simple, gray waiting hall was surprisingly warm; the heating must have finally been repaired.
“One ticket to the Metropolis for today, please,” Ardi said, handing over his documents along with an ex and ten kso for a seat in the carriage.
“You’re lucky you made it on time,” said the young woman, clicking her register and tearing off a ticket, which she promptly stamped. “Departure is in fifteen minutes.”
She didn’t even glance at his identification or travel permit. And speaking of that permit, which he hadn’t had on his first journey and which had led to his conversation with Marshal Elliny, Ardi had since learned the reason behind its absence — Kelly had never filed it, nor had he done so for Erti. They hadn’t planned on leaving Evergale, so they’d never needed one.
Sometimes, complex problems had simple, logical, even mundane answers.
“Thank you.”
“Safe travels.”
Ticket in hand, Ardi hoisted his suitcase and stepped out onto the platform. Aside from himself and a worker chipping away at the ice on the boards, there was no one else around. Delpas was celebrating and no one else was thinking of embarking on a long journey.
After all, the trip to the capital of the Empire took about seven days. A round trip was two weeks.
Ardi had spent that much time just to be with his family for three days. And he didn’t regret it. Even if it had taken an entire year to spend just these few days with them, he’d have done it without a second thought.
And yet…
Ardi tilted his head back, gazing at the stars. He inhaled the cold air, letting out small clouds of vapor that faded into the darkness.
How easy it was to breathe now. How light his spirit felt — though tinged with the sorrow of parting, it was still free. He even thought that he might lift off the ground, the weight on his shoulders having suddenly vanished.
Now he knew who he was. He had found answers to “why,” “how,” “for what purpose,” and a series of other, less significant questions. Heavy, uncomfortable answers, but answers nonetheless.
He would uncover the details of the tragedy because he wanted to. He would finish his studies at the Grand because he enjoyed studying Star Magic.
And he wouldn’t be leaving his small apartment by the canal — certainly not because of the Orcish Jackets. He was comfortable there, and he couldn’t care less about a few thugs. Worst case scenario, he’d write to his brother for advice.
That was only a joke, of course.
And maybe… Maybe he’d invite Tess to the Festival of Light… if no one else had invited her already.
“Tomorrow’s thoughts,” Ardan reminded himself.
A deep, resonant whistle echoed across the platform. From the west, stirring up flurries of snow, a locomotive approached the station. When it finally stopped, shrouding the platform in clouds of fragrant steam, no one stepped out of the carriages. Only Ardi boarded, greeted by a sleepy conductor.
“Ticket?” The mustached man asked, his tone weary. “You’re going to Metropolis, right?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” the conductor replied, stamping the ticket.
Ardi stepped into the next car and found himself… in what might as well have been paradise. Compared to his previous trip, where the overcrowded carriage had reeked of sweat and stale food, this was pure heaven.
In the entire seated car, only a few other travelers were scattered about, all of them men. They lay sprawled across the benches, coats piled around them, heads resting on suitcases or packs, sound asleep.
Ardi followed their example, settling in and soon drifting off with his head comfortably cushioned on his boots, just like he preferred.
***
Ardan awoke to someone shaking his shoulder.
“Sir Mage,” whispered the conductor, eyes gleaming with worry. “Sir Mage, please wake up.”
Ardi blinked, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. The first thing he noticed was that the carriage had somehow filled with passengers. From their attire and jewelry, it was clear they weren’t ordinary folks. Rather, they seemed quite well-to-do. And they carried little with them, just small items they could hold in their hands.
And then he realized something else — the train wasn’t moving. It was standing still in the middle of the steppe, where, from horizon to horizon, lay nothing but flat, snowy plains.
“Mechanical trouble?” Ardi asked.
“B-bandits,” the conductor stammered.
