A black carriage was drawn by those strange deer-like creatures. Cyrus really ought to remember their names. It broke off from the hustle and bustle of the verdant streets, entering a dirt path leading into the forest. Before long, it slowed to a halt before an enormous longhouse. Cyrus was finally here. After telling the driver he would return quickly, he lowered his travel gear and sighed.

Chirp!

Up above, Bird drew his attention. It was an enviable thing, able to take to the skies whenever it wished and enjoy the world to its heart's content.

Perhaps one day, I'll take to the skies like that. Sighing again, Cyrus opened his pack to review its contents. And it wasn't his first inventory check, but hopefully his last. Despite multiple checks, Cyrus couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he might have overlooked something, whether real or just his imagination. Done.

Then Cyrus opened his new coat and retrieved his spatial pouch, which was stuffed with mana and runic crystals, heath vials, supplies, his phone, a revolver, and a box of ammunition. Most importantly, it contained his camera and charger. But was it enough? Would it ever be enough? No. It's never enough.

Shaking his head, Cyrus cleared his thoughts. Back straight and steady, he strode toward the building and knocked on the door. Nothing.

After a few more minutes, Cyrus frowned and jangled the door. And what luck! It was unlocked.

"Arcanesmith Latriaen?" Cyrus yelled out after opening the door.

He remained outside to avoid another incident.

More silence. Gritting his teeth, Cyrus entered the building and moved past the display of enchanted weapons and armor that lined the store's display. And there the large ork was, sleeping with his arms folded on a chair behind the counter, no less.

Just rouse him, Cyrus.

Softly, hesitantly, Cyrus spoke up and rapped his knuckles on the counter. "Arcane smith, Latriaen? It's Wade Cyrus."

The ork's fiery gaze snapped open. A fiery brilliance coated the room in red hues as if the world was meeting a great flame. The sight forced Cyrus to shield his gaze with a hand to avoid going blind there and then. Yet, as swiftly as that incandecence came, it dissipated.

"The shop's closed," came a groggy response.

"It's Wade Cyrus, Sir. It's been thirty days..."

It took all but a second for Latriaen to realize what he meant. With an indifferent huff, he rose to his feet and smoothed out the charcoal-stained mess that was his shirt.

"Good. Stay. Wait." Without waiting for Cyrus' response, Latriaen disappeared behind the bead curtain.

But what Latriaen emerged with was a sight to behold. In his hand was a spear as tall as he, nearly one and a half meters. It bore an ivory staff with a hexagonal spear tip almost a quarter the length of its shaft, engraved with an engraving of a mammoth-like creature with intricate etchings on its tusks. There was also a small, mirror-like case gripped the ork's other hand.

"Let's go, boy," he declared, tucking the box into his pocket.

Cyrus hesitated. Was 'his teacher' bringing only his spear? What about more clothes or crystals? Or at least some food... Yet all he could muster was a weak "great," instead. So off they went. Yet once they gathered Bird and headed to the carriage, they were met with a dilemma: Latriaen was too large to fit inside.

"I suppose that's the drawback of human-centric cities," Cyrus muttered, his gaze lingering on the ork's towering figure. "Let me grab my bag, and we can start walking."

Latriaen shook his head. "No need. Have the carriage take you to the south gate, and I'll meet you there."

Cyrus hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Latriaen replied before heading back toward his house without so much as a look back.

Well, now Cyrus was alone again, not that it had bothered him much. He climbed into the carriage and ordered the driver for the south gate and whistled for Bird to follow. And around the outer streets of Avalorn, they went.

"At least the journey offers a scenic view," Cyrus remarked as he leaned back, resting his head on his arm as the trees slowly passed by.

Slowly, his thoughts drifted to his teacher. The rather taciturn Ork led little to no doubt that he was only here due to the whims of Lord Dílis. However, Cyrus had dealt with such people before. If he was correct, then Latriaen was of the sort that would never budge, no matter how hard Cyrus pushed. But that didn't mean the Ork wasn't unreasonable, not really. He'd only need to say the right words at the perfect moments. Maybe then, the man would warm up to him.

Maybe I'll get something good out of this if I get on his good side. It'll be just like... who was that guy again? Eh, it doesn't matter.

Time passed. And soon, the southern gate behind a checkpoint came into sight as a break in the monotony of trees came into view. The clattering of the carriage wheels against cobblestone soon stopped. However... Cyrus froze as he disembarked.

How did he beat me here?!

Waiting at the checkpoint was Latriaen. He towered over a guardswoman who lead the cheackpoint. With short, boyish hair escaping the confines of her metal helmet, she looked up to him with her blue eyes. The two appeared to be in an argument. Well, the woman seemed to be upset to the stoic Ork.

"...Going on an expedition," Latriaen said, his red eyes dimmed before the woman.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Latriaen, you keep saying that, but it doesn't change the fact you need really ought to bring proper documentation." The guardswoman, evidently familiar with Latriaen, responded with a hint of exasperation. "Otherwise, people might start thinkin' that you're actin...er suspicious."

She leaned on her hip and glared at him. As if that would deter the Ork. Once she met that smoldering, intense gaze, she was compelled to avert her eyes slightly.

Is he socially awkward or simply indifferent? Cyrus wondered.

Because an indifferent person would either walk through or get to the point. Yet, Cyrus was watching someone simply standing there as if waiting for the other party to continue the conversation. He'd make sure to fully understand Latriaen by the time this is over.

Shaking his gaze, Cyrus glanced at the flying Bird before making his entrance.

"Clear skies. I'm Wade Cyrus," he said, offering a professional smile. "And don't worry. I have the proper documentation and permits."

He unfastened his pack and revealed a parchment nestled atop his gear and handed it over.

"A Wayfarer initiate? It's been ages since we've seen a new face around here." The guardsman regarded Cyrus with a keen eye and smile as she read the document. "What possessed you to join them?" She then widened her gaze and chuckled. "Right, where are my manners? The name's Crioía. Clear skies and all that."

"It's great to meet you, Crioía." Cyrus 'smiled.' "Well, I just wanted to do some good for Avalorn. Besides, the guardsmen look a little bit too crowded."

"Ha! True that!" A chuckling Crioía regarded Cyrus with a sunny smile and a gaze that hinted at a bit of respect. "Hmm, everything appears to be in order," Crioía remarked, handing back the paper after a moment's review. "But, where are you headed? If it's nearby one, we can direct you to one of the caches—"

"—CYRUS! It's me! Long time no see. How have you been?" An overly enthusiastic and loud male voice interrupted the conversation.

The next moment, the three turned and watched a guardsman break free from his post and hurry over.

Oh no. Cyrus frowned. Who is this guy?

It wouldn't be the first time he had forgotten the name of someone. Normally, he would ask again... But this guy looked especially expectant as he looked at Cyrus with those doe eyes as he drew closer.

All the synapses in Cyrus' mind flared as he searched for a scrape of memory about this guy. Wait. This was the same guard who drew Dílis' and his attention during one of the touring days. But that didn't explain how he knew Cyrus. Was he someone from the wall? Ah. Him.

But what was his name?! Too late. Better improvise.

"Hey, man, it's been a while," Cyrus said, 'smiling.' "How have you been?"

The guardsman flashed a smile as if the two were old friends who met up after years of separation. They weren't.

His words shot out as fast as bullets. "Things have been alright. I was given a little break from the wall before being posted here. What about you?" —His tone lowered into a whisper— "...And did you get in trouble because of my book?"

Right. That definitely confirmed Cyrus' suspicions. But try as he might, he could still not remember the man's name.

"Fergus, who gave you permission to abandon your post?" She scolded, wagging a finger at him, the latter flinching. "Do you want to get in more trouble? What if Leal saw you like this?"

How convenient. Meanwhile, Latriaen seized the initiative as Crioía focused on reprimanding Fergus. He slipped away from the group and strode over the wicket, then leaned on the gate with his gaze shut. But his attempt to rid himself of others failed as Crioía had him locked down from the moment he arrived. Moreover, her gaze shone as if struck with inspiration. Her demeanor shifted, her anger melting away as if it had never been there.

"You know what?" She began, turning her gaze toward the tall Ork. "Since it's been so long since you two last spoke, why don't you take a break, Fergus?" —her voice lowered to a whisper— "And while you do that, I'll keep Latriaen company so he doesn't feel lonely."

And with that, she left without another word, humming a tune.

No, please, stop. Cyrus weakly reached out at her. Don't leave me here.

But he froze, tensing as an arm draped around his shoulder. Why were these people so touchy?!

"Let's grab some drinks when my shift is over," Fergus said happily, oblivious to Cyrus' discomfort. "I know a great pub, and you could tell me how you joined the Wayfarers. It's a shock, to say the least, considering everything that happened."

Cyrus forced a smile. "Fergus, I'm sure someone told you to keep quiet about that. I'm a resident of Avalorn now, remember?"

"Ah, sorry," Fergus muttered, rubbing the back of his head. Yet it didn't deter the hopeful glint in his gaze. "But you're still up for hitting the pub, right?"

No, was what Cyrus wanted to say. And how he wanted to say it so badly. But...he decided to grant the poor guy one small favor before cutting ties altogether.

"Sure, but it'll have to wait until after I return," he said, slowly escaping Fergus' grasp. "And that won't be for another two or three months."

And hopefully, he would have forgotten all about Cyrus by then. His response dampened Fergus' enthusiasm. However, it quickly shot up again once Bird perched on Cyrus' shoulder.

"Is that your companion? What's his name? How long have you two been together?"

Cyrus responded in clipped words, hoping to wrap up the conversation swiftly. "His name is Bird, and it's been a month. He then glanced toward the wicket, where Latriaen leaned with closed eyes while Crioía appeared to be engaged in non-stop chatter. "Hey, Fergus, it was nice chatting with you." Cyrus took a step away from him. "But it's getting dark, and my teacher and I have a long way to go. I'll catch you later. Clear skies."

"Oh, sure," Fergus replied softly with a faint wave, watching Cyrus take his leave. "We'll hang out when you come back."

Cyrus wasted no time. He jogged over to the others and interrupted the 'conversation.'

"Hey, Teacher, should we get going?"

Latriaen finally opened his fiery gaze and nodded with almost supernatural speed. "Yes, let's."

He nodded at Crioía without saying goodbye before quickly stepping through the gate, the latter taken aback at the former's speed.

"Oh... okay. Then, I'll see you when you come back. Latriaen?" Crioía said, her voice softening as her sights remained on the fleeing Ork.

All she received was a grunt of affirmation.

But Cyrus already lost interest in the woman. No, what stood before him took over all of his attention. There beyond the wicket was the ever endless fog. And Cyrus' rush abruptly halted at the final step. Memories flooded his mind as he beheld the drifting murk. From the cave to The Weeper, his dismal experience outside Avalorn left an everlasting impression on Cyrus' psyche. And was he really going to step outside and face the danger again?

Cyrus' answer was to take a step forward. Then another.

"To begin again," he murmured, casting one last glance towards Avalorn. And then, he marched forward into the haze with spear in hand.

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