Daiden expressed a sense of victory, with clenched fists and a broad smile. In front of him, the forest cleared to open, large farmlands and developed paths. His eyes shifted in all directions, and he felt his skin tickle with eagerness at the sight of Godvildian villagers, his people. With a deep breath, he paused at the entrance and read the words, Mutuba Village. Daiden gulped. He reread the sign and glanced at everything around him.
“This is a village?” thought Daiden, out loud. He scratched the back of his head and laughed. His chest lightened in that moment. He clenched it, and found it tense once more. It lingered still, memories from the Earthen Realm. Daiden shook away his anxiety and strengthened his gaze. “Two steps forward, one step back…well, I suppose that’s still one step forward in the right direction.”
Daiden waved to a soldier posted at the gate and bowed in a polite greeting. “I was asked to come here by High Lord Aelius Bloodheart. Are there any formalities associated with entering Mutuba Village?”
The soldier formed a dazed expression and stared at Daiden, with caution. “You’re wounded. And you look shabby. You use the name of a Godvildian High Lord. Who are you?”
Daiden coughed. From afar, he noticed another soldier approach as well. “I, I am an Awakened.” He added.
The two soldiers exchanged glances and then turned to address their visitor. They almost spoke, but paused, without much reason. The first of the two cleared his throat and asked, “An Awakened? As in an Awakened from the Earthen Realm?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it,” the soldier said, bluntly. “Even my Grandpa’s never seen an Awakened. You an enemy soldier, a spy?”
Daiden crossed his arms and cocked to one side with a hum. He searched his memories as to why he felt frustration, less so from the manner with which the soldier addressed him. His eyebrows twitched. “The grammar, the grammar. I forgot how much it used to bother me, still bothers me. F***. Why does that still bother me? It’s ‘are you’ or ‘you’re’, not xx%$ ‘you’.”
“You must have a process to verify my identity!” stated Daiden, avoiding profanity.
With a shrug, the soldier nodded. “Well, yes, we do. Most Awakened are usually guided here by an Evaluator. You alone. How did you even cross the Sea of Trees with such shabby equipment?”
Daiden twitched again.
***
In serenity, an old man bowed over a pot and smelt the bubbling liquid. He stirred the ladle with patience, stopping only at resistance from a thick consistency. He gently poured the liquid into a clay mug and sipped with his eyes peeled to the windows. His lips curved to a smile when the sunlight crept in through the cracks, and then the window, basking him in a familiar warmth. When the light brightened, he covered his wrinkled, yet still muscular frame, with a pair of loose, white clothing. With another sip, he finished and moved to another corner of his meagre home.
The old man stared at the scars on his face and neck, in a rippled reflection. His face held to a tired appearance, aged with a short, white beard, and with thick, shoulder-length hair, ruffled in a mess. He didn’t care much for his features. His reflection blurred in that moment, when he dipped into the water bowl, splashing it against his face. He repeated the task twice more and wiped clean before heading into the sunlight, outside. At the door, he grabbed a heavy hammer and descended from the porch, onto dew-moistened mud. He enjoyed the peace of an early morning, especially in a place like Mutuba Village.
At a routine pace, the old man ambled past a stretch of small, well-placed houses, to a large wooden shed. He glanced through the storage and collected a bundle of ash-coloured wooden logs. His fingers dexterously assessed for quality, placing everything required in a cloth bag. He slung it over his shoulders and headed to the smithy. It was his last week in Mutuba Village.
“There are some promising students here; I should probably take them to the Capital City,” the old man mused, unhurried in his pace. “But would that be fair to the village? Probably not.”
He greeted the farmers at work, on route to the smithy, and passed along the entrance to the village. Almost. The old man retraced his steps to a commotion, with a young man and two soldiers. With a sigh, he closed in on the group and overheard a portion of the conversation. His ears perked with the presented information.
“Why do you halt the path of an Awakened, soldiers?” asked the old man, scratching his temples. “Mutuba Village marks a safe haven for those from the Earthen Realm.”
The soldiers stiffened at the sight of the old man and bowed. “Apologies, Lord Zane! But the boy comes with no guide. He casually speaks the name of High Lord Bloodheart as well!”
Zane eyed the dark-skinned boy and traced to the vine in his arm. He followed the path to a set of exoskeletons; it piqued his interest. “Hoh? Are the soldiers right perhaps?”
The Lord of Fire stepped ahead of the soldiers and towered over Daiden. He leaned in observation and asked, “Explain to me, child. Why are you here without your Evaluator?”
With a slight bow, Daiden introduced himself and continued, “General Magellan appeared with news that required immediate attention. High Lord Bloodheart asked that I seek you out, the Lord of Fire, and to follow a straight path through the Sea of Trees. He mentioned that it was important that I speak with you given my role as a weapon-based combatant, a Wielder.”
Zane stroked his beard and leaned closer still. “You found hostilities, the Chrun’s Descendants?”
“Yes,” said Daiden, earnestly. “I managed to survive the hunt. And I thought the exoskeletons might be of some help, so I carried them along.”
“I see,” said Zane, straightening his back. “Six of them, was it?”
The Lord of Fire stroked his beard again and quietly shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it. However, I must evaluate your Mioveroldian Page. That should help prove that you’re an Awakened.”
Daiden hesitated a little. He lowered his head and grumbled, in disapproval of the offered solution. With a low voice, he asked, “Is there no other way?”
Zane dismissed the soldiers and smiled, easing the wrinkles on his face. He squatted and dropped his hammer to one side. With an eager nod, the Lord of Fire stood back up and confirmed it. “Yes, it is the only way!”
“But I understand your point…” continued Zane, without pause. “Just know that the thousands of us, away from battle, work to ensure that the hundreds in front of us stand strong. I don’t need to look at some of the finer details, just the age of your Mioveroldian Page.”
Daiden brightened at the explanation, but also felt a touch of embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head and shrunk from awkwardness.
“High Lord Bloodheart and General Magellan mentioned that I was lucky to have arrived at the time of your presence here,” said Daiden, more as a reminder to himself. “I’m sorry for not being more forthcoming. You can see everything there is to see. I trust you to use this information with care.”
Zane hummed at the response. “I like him.”
