Caera Denoir
So. One day had passed here, in the real world.
But back in the relictomb, to me it felt like years, but at the same time, not really? Time just snapped back as if nothing had happened as soon as I came out of there.
I wasn't sure which feeling unsettled me the most. If I were stuck in there for a while longer, I'd likely go insane... like that old man.
"..." I exhaled softly.
Maybe it was better to stop thinking about it.
Lance Wykes and Arthur had left after leading us to the Alacrya refugees, where a row of small houses that had been fortunate enough to survive the attack from the corrupted Vritras.
"..." How long have they been gone now?
The Alacryans, those who follow Scythe Seris. Most of them, at least. Fed and guarded. Afraid, but alive. Given the circumstances, that alone felt like a small miracle.
But not everyone was holding together quite as well.
"Scythe Seris, please," an old woman sobbed amidst other desperate pleas. Her voice was dry as if she hadn't drunk a single drop of water for days as she clutched at Scythe Seris' shirt. "I beg of you. My son is still in Alacrya. He's waiting for us. Please, we need to go back for him. For him and the others!!"
"..."
Scythe Seris didn't answer right away. She moved slowly among them, placing her care on one and then another. She listened. She nodded and reassured where she could as she struggled to do so.
I wanted to help her.
But was she still angry with me? Still upset?
The thought lingered longer than I expected.
In the end, I decided it was better to leave this to her.
Quietly, I turned and walked out.
"..."
"What are you doing out here, young lady?"
"What?" An elf stood before me—older than most, with sharp facial features and a gaze that could make people obey without question despite how exhausted and worn out he looked.
"Before you stands the great Virion Eralith. The Commander of the Dicathen Army," Arthur said lightly, laughing as he stood tall behind him with Lance Wykes at his side. "How about that?"
"..."
"Arthur," he scolded him, shooting him a look, "please don't make this greeting more difficult than it already is for her."
He turned back to me. "My apologies, dear. Please allow this old man to introduce himself. I am Virion Eralith, commander of the Dicathen Army."
"I—I am Caera of blood—I mean, I am Caera Denoir, it is a pleasure to meet you, commander!" I bowed without thinking.
Am I doing it right? Is this how one greets royalty?
"Please, no need to be so formal. Stand tall, you may address me as commander Virion."
"Where is your mentor?" Arthur asked.
"I'm here." My mentor's voice came right behind me as she opened the door.
Arthur turned toward her, "We have an offer that we think you two should consider."
"It is a fairly simple offer. It won't take long." Commander Virion added.
"..."
"...Then please, I'd like to listen."
Commander Virion began, his gaze shifting past us to the gathered Alacryans behind us, "Since Arthur was sure that your people pose no threat to us. Especially the two of you."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Your people will remain under my protection. They will be given food and water and a place to stay, so long as they are willing to work for it."
"Only on one condition." His eyes returned to us. "That the two of you fight for Dicathen. As soldiers of this continent."
"..." Surprised, I turned to Scythe Seris and unlike me, she wasn't startled. Her expression remained composed.
"So? What do you say?" Regis popped out.