His neck was sore from last night; Midas was able to feel it as he bound up stacks of his leftover papers together, emptying his shelves of his dorm with the help of Avalon. Bundles of paper were transported by them through the main building to a parked carriage outside the university—inside of it, Ivyda was waiting for him impatiently as she wandered around the carriage with crossed arms until it was completely loaded. The youth bowed to her before she could take off, grateful for her bringing his belongings into his already designated dorm at the Eau'Troi academy. Looking after them as they left, Midas returned the shy waving of Uteli, who sat in the back of the carriage.
The youth recalled the memory of Avalon standing in front of Graf's house that same morning, having brought him back before he could arrive to tell him his contact back in the capital, Montcanal. Initially relieved to have heard about him getting his seat, the youth felt slightly off by the fact how fast his application had been accepted—knowing that the academy had similar entrance exams to the university. Either Avalon's contact was more influential than Midas thought, or someone with a high enough rank inside the academy grew fond of him.
Nonetheless, Midas grasped one last thing from his old dorm before heading away for good with Graf and the others—the same tiny glass flask that held a shiny piece of gold inside of it, the only remain of Almas he had beside his sunshard and the ruin that he was entrusted with holding. Avalon quietly looked down onto the shimmering piece of metal—his eyes narrowing in thought as he glanced down at it—opting to rather not ask how the youth obtained it, since he was able to see how carefully Midas had brought it into the pocket of his trousers—able to keep his two identical sets of uniforms.
"Thank you for everything, Avalon... I'm not sure if I would've made it this far without you saving me back at the Shama Rift."
Hearing the boy mutter a last goodbye and seeing his eyes glance down at the floor with a youthful seriousness on his face caused Avalon's eyes to tear up. Simply nodding, he placed his palm on Midas's head, trying his best to regain his composure.
"Please take care of yourself in the capital, especially when you're facing the commander's son. Whatever way you might find to stop this sandstorm in the south—I'm sure you can do it."
Raising his head slightly to see his shut eyelids, Midas nodded simply under the palm of Avalon—surprised to see him react like this, unsure if he even deserved such an emotional farewell. Looking back at him, Midas waved at the red-haired man—his leather bag filled with the same dictionary he had been using during his entire time at the university, as well as most of his important papers, having written down multiple stacks of repeated words and sentences to burn the water kingdom language into his head.
"What a sight... I haven't felt like this since I left my hometown with Inaya..."
Haya muttered, snorting his nose with teary eyes—being much more dramatic about it than Avalon, despite him never really interacting with the man outside of the time he spent at the medical room. Inaya next to him looked through their packaged goods—dried meat, bread, and some fruit—all of which Midas had already seen being served at the cafeteria. Javelin and his sister had been invited by Jakal to come with him and Patriq—a group Midas wouldn't have ever fathomed to form. Graf in the driver's seat raised his arm out to Avalon—wasting no time to finally set off, using his own sunshard to move the rubble beneath the ride's wheels, moving them slowly forward on the plastered path.
Time flew by as Midas and Haya chatted. Inaya quietly listened, her mask looking down onto a sleeping Fudula, whose head rested on her thigh, gently running her hand down her curly hair. The situation Midas found himself in reminded him of the time they spent in the desert—the only thing that changed was the fact grass now surrounded them, also having the same cloth spun over arching wooden beams like most of the carriages used in the water kingdom to shield them from potential rainfall.
The longer he stayed, however, the youth quickly realized how wrong he really was with thinking that—Haya in front of him still had burn marks riddled on his forearms, wearing a leather vest and gloves, almost like those belonging to the knighthood. The youth himself changed as well, able to use his right hand almost without limitation, able to bend all of his fingers, the only exception being his middle and ring fingers, most likely due to the implanted stone rune in the back of his hand, hidden by layers of bandages—the same striped cloth he used in the plant kingdom stuffed deep into the corner of his bag.
The more words he exchanged, Midas was able to tell that Haya had grown more determined during his time in the university—able to feel how serious he was to protect his sister, while also eager to know more about the plant kingdom and how the three of them were able to go there. Midas often glanced out of the back of the ride when they conversed, fleeting his gaze as he leaned forward to him—his expression growing darker every time he had to avoid naming either Jikith or his affiliation with the pirates, for not only his own but also Hayas's sake as well.
"Finally... my back is aching."
Hearing Graf eventually groan, Midas stepped forward to glance out to the front of their carriage—met with put-up wooden stems that acted as a wall, looping around reused remains of an old stone fort, on top of which wooden huts and tents were set up. Not taking long to notice the abundance of carriages parking at the entrance of it, the youth was sure of it—they arrived at Centour. Surrounded by only plain, grassy hills with two mountain chains raising themselves at each of their sides, Haya stretched himself, snatching one of the bread loaves to feast on.
"These piles of stone and rubble were once a castle that overlooked the entire flatlands. Multiple were built along the main road that connects both of the kingdoms' coasts—they eventually fell into ruin since no one used them at the time. Most troops were gathered to the deep north to keep rallying clans in check and prevent any invasions..."
All of them ate from the rations; Midas was able to stuff pieces of dry-aged meat between two ripped-apart pieces of bread—chewing on it as his eyes glanced over the slim pieces of rock, overgrown with moss, forming left-behind tower foundations and stairs, elevating most of the wooden buildings built on top of the rubble from the passing-by carriages and tents set up around the remains.
"Since no one cared for these forts to begin with, vandals eventually destroyed most of them—which then encouraged salesmen and those selling transport services to set up shop, given that the central road is the most used path and a vital connection between the east and west. With time, they were even able to afford guards that ride these roads with simple gear to ward off any bandits or pirates waiting on the road."
Inaya eventually opened the bag of Midas on her own, stuffing bread and slices of meat, packaged together in a cloth, into it. Quietly closing the bag again, having seen an orange striped cloth tucked underneath the dictionary, she glanced at Midas briefly, questioningly mustering him from behind as she exited the ride to hand the youth his bag. Nodding unknowingly, unable to see her expression through her metal mask, the youth scanned the perimeter to look for the transport service. Graf eventually helped him find the right person to head to, pointing at a wooden sign that displayed "Cle'Phoria."
"Here, this will be enough to pay off the driver—make sure to have enough water on you; the heat in the desert during the season of the sun is nearly unbearable..."
"Thank you, I'm sure we'll catch up in Montcanal...! Good luck on your trip!"
Graf only smiled as he watched the youth find his way through the crowded street, waving after him as Inaya and Haya joined in, quietly rubbing Haya's back as she was able to hear him sniffling while his waving became much faster. Seeing a line of chained-up people hulled in white cloth pass him by, Midas eventually went up to a man wearing a leather hat and sturdy blue wool clothing, his joints protected by more leather.
"I would like to go to Cle'Phoria, please."
Raising his brow at the unusual customer, the driver eventually shrugged it off—his hand raised out to him until he grasped two of the four silver coins the youth was given by Graf. Nodding with an approving grumble, Midas was allowed to enter the ride; his eyes met directly with the stern stare of a robed man. Holding his gaze for a brief moment, Midas closed his lids as he sat himself down on the opposite edge of the ride—the man was the only one that sat by him, his broad build hidden under a roughed-up greyish pelt, claw marks stretched along his forehead while his grey hair was combed backwards.
Briefly looking into the room, his beardy face seemingly unphased by the oppressing silence inside of the ride, their driver eventually stepped into the ride—forcing the Fahin to pull them forward. The back of the ride was covered up by a blanket; a dim amount of sunshine that came through the cloth roofing of the ride was able to light up the inside just enough—the squeaking wheels were the only thing Midas was able to hear during their trip towards the mountains, and he was able to feel them slowing down eventually after a prominent breeze made the cloth around them flatter.
Reassuring himself that Cle'Phoria wasn't too far away from them, Midas put his arms over himself, suddenly feeling cold as he sunk his head with closed lids, trying to simply sleep through the entire trip without having to interact with the colossal-looking man on the other corner of the tiny room. Able to tell that the ride came to a halt, the youth took a breather, noticing that the air became thin as his eyes eventually opened up. Moving his head up, his eyes widened at the giant figure looming over him—mustering him directly as he stood next to him without saying a word, eventually stepping out of the carriage.
Blinking twice with stern brows, Midas eventually followed, his arms continuously hugging his torso as he shivered at the cold—not prepared for the snow that awaited him on the narrow path leading up the side of a cliff ahead of them. Securing his ride on a lonely tree sprouting between the masses of rock and snow, the driver silently nodded at them, taking the lead as they found their way between split-up cliffs—similar to the Shama rift, even though it was much colder than anything the youth had ever experienced before.
With flat breath, they now wandered through an open field; his back was slumped, curling almost into his hugging arms to make the most of his body's heat. Snow was riddled along their path, piling up on the sides and coating the mountains' cliffs that rose up high above their heads—Midas made sure to hide his hands in his armpits to ensure his fingers wouldn't freeze off. With narrowed eyes, the youth followed behind the two of them, eventually losing focus on the breathtaking view of the rugged cliffs that separated the grassy plains from the desert, the sun shimmering on the horizon as it began to sink, his eyes widening at a sudden shrill tone.
Looking up into the dimming sky, the youth glared at an incoming bird—its body alone only slightly tinier than a Fahin—its wings tucked to its sides as the claws of the creature splayed out at the unsuspecting youth. Locking his eyes onto the incoming predator, the man wearing the pelt eventually lifted it off himself to throw it on the child, blinding him momentarily while also making the giant bird glide up again, using its complete wingspan to redirect itself to the grey-haired man. Glancing at the driver who crouched down behind a slim tree trunk, he grasped his greatsword, stepping forward towards the incoming enemy.
Hearing its shriek again, he unleashed the heap of metal from the iron shaft, grasping its handle with both hands as he rested the dull side of it against his shoulder, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as the enemy directly darted down to him. Having achieved the perfect distance between himself and the bird, the man made sure to prepare himself to jump up, readying his leg muscles as mana rushed through them. Cracking the upper layer of the rock floor he crouched on, the man leaped forward—slicing through the opened-up beak of the enemy to cut its body into two.
Letting it drop to the floor simultaneously with him, he quietly sheathed his blade again, wiping the drops of blood off of his cheek before snatching away the pelt that covered a puzzled Midas. Throwing it around himself again, he looked down at the youth again—scanning him for a drawn-out moment without saying anything—before eventually turning away from the youth. Feeling as if he just had been tested, the youth got to his feet again—the cold becoming more unbearable the longer they spent wandering through the peak of the mountain