Midas eventually made it to another parked carriage, beside it a dated wooden shack, closed off by many layers of cloth that stacked on top of its roof—the part of it that drooped down from the roof's edge slowly dangled in the wind that swept against the mountainside. Having carried his bag on his stomach, slotting his arms between himself and the leather to somehow prevent his hands from going numb completely, the youth sat himself down with a flat sigh, dropping his back lumpily off of him as he found a seat in the second carriage.
Bringing a reluctant Fahin out of the lonely carriage, its ears flapping as it shook its head at the snow, the beardy driver eventually strapped the animal to the back of the carriage, having it tucked out of the wooden shack as it guided the animal to begin their way down the mountain. The youth forgot about the glare of the broadly built man beside him, unsure whether he was a hunter or not, as the claw mark on his forehead right above his brow and the pelt on his shoulders suggested him to have some experience with beasts—his fighting style also implying that he was used to the local beasts living here.
Ignoring the deep stare he got from him, Midas curled up on his seat—his arms shaking as the task of preserving his body's warmth became much more important than questioning who sat beside him just now. Noticing the stern glare that was directed forward, the man felt intrigued, noticing a sense of determination in the child on the other edge of the carriage. Simply snorting at the side, he crossed his arms underneath his pelt, leaning back as he closed his eyes.
Watching the man intently as he closed his eyes suddenly, the youth waited in silence—eventually having enough of rubbing his numb hands together, he silently stepped towards him, sliding close to sit beside him as his hand wandered underneath the pelt. Rubbing his palms together, Midas felt the numbness die down slowly—his expression a bitter frown as he prayed silently for the man not to notice him. Reluctantly glancing up, his eyes eventually looked at an unsurprised glare; one of the man's brows arched up questioningly as he mustered the youth. Continuing to warm himself, Midas clenched his teeth—his body frozen in confusion as the man suddenly gave his pelt to him to wear.
"You could've asked me for it."
Midas tugged the pelt over his shoulders, his body curling up underneath it as he stared onto the floor with a sunken head. The carriage made its way downhill, leaving the mountain behind as the sun vanished on the horizon. Having slept through the short distance between the base of the mountain and Cle'Phoria, the youth eventually woke up again at the sight of their halted carriage parked outside a tiny group of houses, their dim light being the only thing visible in the dark of the night. Seeing the child wake up, the hunter grabbed his coat off of the youth, putting it around himself again.
"Why come here out of all places...? Do your parents live here, perhaps?"
"No. I'm searching for a man named Ajan—he travelled here from the northern desert."
The youth turned away from the foreign person, glancing outside the front of the ride as he saw two guards wander out of a setuptent on the side of the path they followed, wielding torches whose light reflected against their helmets, making the chainmail that wrapped around their necks glisten. Stressed almost immediately, the youth half-mindedly grasped onto his holstered sickle, having heard of the resentment the people on the east coast felt against those from the northern desert.
"Ajan, you say... The Ajan...? The mapmaker Ajan?"
"Mapmaker, you say...? I was told he used to be an adventurer."
Even though the inside was barely lit, Midas was able to see the eyes of the hunter lighting up—stepping slightly back from him as he got up from his seat. Unable to tell for sure, it seemed as if the foreign person in front of him knew much more about Ajan than he did—not having enough time to confirm his thoughts as the cloth covering the back of the ride was lifted by both guards, the flames of their torches illuminating the inside of the ride with dim orange.
"A desert child...? Are you able to identify yourself...? Do you even understand me, or have you been smuggled through the border perhaps..."
Quickly taking his eyes off of the broadly built man beside Midas, the knight extended his hand out to him—the light motion of his fingers suggesting he awaited some form of paper that would prove the youth was allowed to enter the country, possibly awaiting a paper similar to the one that was filled out for him by Gunvar on his arrival at Cascrender. Eventually reminded of the events that happened inside the plant kingdom, Midas rummaged through his leather bag, eventually retrieving the card handed to him by the adventurers guild and handing it to the guard.
Raising a brow at it, the knight showed it to his partner—almost surprised at the fact the desert boy in front of him was able to understand his request, even having made it all the way to the plant kingdom as well. Switching it to the other side, they observed the stamps printed on it, quickly realizing he entered the capital city of the same kingdom. The hunter glanced at the boy again, more curious than impressed as the guard began to speak again.
"Where have you been residing the last few days?"
"Cascrender—I attended the university there."
Simply nodding, the guard reluctantly handed him the card again—his questions sounding like an interrogation as the two of them completely disregarded the idea of checking the hunter beside the boy. Waving dismissively, the carriage eventually passed the tent, parking at a stall set up between the few houses that are set up around a curling road that leads to a huge residency that rose over their straw roofs, its size comparable to the main building of the university.
"The man you seek to meet lives up this road if I remember correctly, the last house on the left side..."
Pointing his finger at one of the houses, the hunter eventually turned his back on him as the two left the ride. Making Midas squint at the darkness in front of him—the houses surrounding him built with wooden beams and white, chalky walls. All of the windows were shut; the whole entirety of Cle'Phoria was still asleep because of their late arrival. Seeing his driver stare at him with dim confusion, the youth walked away into the dark, turning the opposite direction from the hunter.
With every step the youth took, he grew more uncertain—unsure whether Ajan would be even willing to open his door for him, that is, if he would even hear his knocking. The village seemed foreign, the dark silhouette of the huge residency on the edge of it making him feel tiny in comparison. Opening his bag again, Midas grasped the glass flask that once belonged to Alma—gripping it as tightly as he could in his right hand, knocking at Ajan's door.
Not being met with a reply, the youth grew more insistent—hammering against it as he realized he had no other place to sleep if he wasn't able to get inside of this house in front of him. Eventually hearing hasty steps echo from inside—eventually, Midas froze as a daunting set of eyes looked down onto the youth, the dim shimmer of a lantern peeking through the entrance. Quickly looking to his left and right, he furrowed his brows at the child, his beard much shorter than Almas's.
"Who are you...? Leave, or knights will get you..."
Whispering urgently, he retreated into the dark security of his house again—shutting his door, his attempt quickly disrupted by Midas as he shoved his foot between the door and the frame. Glancing through the slim opening, the youth wasted no time to show Ajan the aged glass flask, the gold stored inside of it shimmering with the candle of the lantern. Widening his eyes at the sight of it, he looked down onto the determined expression of the youth—more alarmed than anything else.
"Alma gave this to me... please, hear me out."
Staring directly into the eyes of the child in front of him for an extended amount of time, Ajan eventually broke the silent moment—halting from trying to shut the door, reluctantly opening it up to the foreign boy. Midas knew Ajan could roughly tell that he was from the desert like him, having spoken his warning in the desert tongue despite never having seen him. Entering with the same hesitation, the youth followed Ajan through a finely decorated house, eventually ending up inside of a dimly lit room.
Between melting candles, stacked books, and scattered papers that piled up on the desk in the center and stuck between the pillars of books, Midas was almost awed at how similar Ajan's room looked to Almas's. Behind the man's seat, a large map hung on the wall—depicting a grand joint continent, at the center of it a large island, making the cluster of land look almost like a rugged, deformed ring that was sketched on aged paper. As the youth sat down in front of Ajan, he noticed the way he sat on his stool was also similar to his brother—silently watching him massaging his forehead for a short moment.
"You were sent by my brother...?"
"Yes, he told me to come to you... please forgive me if you already know of his fate; I came too late to be of any help for him."
Lowering his head in shame, Midas's eyes looked down on his right hand—covered by bandages and clutched into a fist, a way of trying to pressure himself enough to shut down any resurfacing images of the fire that spilled from the windows of the fort or the lifeless body that Alma became after the fight with the water kingdom commander. Leaning back in his chair, Ajan watched the youth for a second—his demeanor unchanged by the implication as he focused on his hand instead.
"Alma predicted this; I hung the last letter he wrote to me up over my bed—he knew that I had already made my choice to never come back home, so he accepted me for my choice of staying. To be honest with you, I wished he never even managed to hear about the existence of this rune you bear with you to begin with..."
Hearing his words made Midas glance up at him with widened eyes, completely taken aback by the emotionless tone of his lowered voice—Ajans's eyes never left his bandaged hand, as if they were tracing the shape of the slab of stone that was somewhat visible through the fabric. It almost made sense that Alma would foresee his fate of dying to the men of the water kingdom—he knew of the invasion, and despite being a priest, he chose to take over the command of the Northern Fort. Alma knew of the risk and chose to come closer to it, as if there was some kind of duty to fulfill there—possibly related to the rune that now sat in the back of the boy's hand.
"You know of it...?"
"Of course, I and Alma have been exploring old ruins of the world before the great Fracturing since we were young... besides endless walkways and sand-filled rooms that were left behind completely empty, this rune was one of our best findings. Yet—our father restricted our access to it, having told us to not touch the remains of this supposed sun prophet..."
Midas's ears perked at another mention of the 'Great Fracturing,' something seemingly historical that must have either happened after or during the construction of the underground ruins he was forced to explore. The rune was seemingly made by the same people that constructed these halls; perhaps its ability to hold a mana stone was enough reason for their father to not allow them to further look at it.
"At the time I was much younger; it didn't take long for me to grow angry with his decision as my hunger for answers began to grow with every passing day—eventually causing me to fight my father, which in return forced me to leave my family behind. Instead of disregarding me like my father, Alma assured me he would take over the task of finding out more about this rune—even joining the same faith our father belonged to in order to gain his trust, being able to access the rune freely after he was too old to protect it from anyone..."
Ajan scratched his head; he didn't wear a hood, not even a mask—he sat in front of him wearing a simple silk robe that resembled clothing that Graf would wear; the only visible similarity with his brother was his bushy brows. Once he was done talking, the man leaned forward, looking directly into Midas's eyes again.
"Alma began to read through multiple ancient texts and books; friends urged me with letters to finally drag him out of the library—but I didn't intervene, too focused on establishing my own life here... As we got older, my brother eventually found out that the rune was supposed to be implanted into a human—however he never seemed to find anyone capable of using its real purpose... not as a slot for a sun shard, but something even more grand—something that the material he used did not explain..."
"Countless already disposed humans have been used to implant this rune into them, and every time my brother tried to somehow get this spoken of 'real purpose' out of them, he failed to do so... I eventually told him to give up the idea, yet, despite me being present, he didn't listen... continuing his effort until the hands of hundreds of people were cut off, a whole slave trade was established, and the water kingdom had taken notice of his doing..."
Ajans's words made Midas almost choke on his own spit, unable to breathe for a split moment as he realized how many must've worn this piece of rock before him—the youth was not chosen, not elected; he was simply the best and last option Alma had in order to hinder anyone else from possessing this ancient rock. And despite all of it, the youth was also not able to find out anything about this rune—another failed attempt.
"The rune separated me from my family; Alma was driven into near insanity—using slavery and human trafficking for his effort of trying to find its real purpose... partly causing the march into the northern desert. The question now, however, is how you will go forward with this rune... Alma told me to encourage you to go to any length when it comes to finding its true use—I, however, give you the option of getting rid of it, since I'm sure you don't wear it out of free will... So, what do you choose to do from here...?"