[Skell]
"Y-you there?" my voice shivered as I scanned the vacant cell. Silence answered back. But I didn't want to believe it.
The familiar rhythm of greaves on metal bars came from afar.
Gervais is coming down? Shade!
My body pulled itself in two directions, leaving me stranded where I started.
Oliver couldn't have left the jail, I would've seen him on my way down and he couldn't have taken the ladder with his hurt shoulder, but he's not here, and - and the tunnel I dug and my broken chains are in plain sight; what if Gervais sees- wait, no, maybe I can explain that away, but what if-
Metallic echoes drew closer. Time, as always, was too short.
Cutting through my jumbled thoughts however, was one directive above all:
Act natural!
Gervais reached the ladder's base, turning around just in time to find me throwing the backpack onto my shoulders. "Whew!" I wiped my forehead, "everything's still inside, exactly where I left it."
In reality, I hadn't even touched the zipper. Not that the Paladin needed to know that.
Though instead of responding, Gervais' eyes moved elsewhere: to his partner's mangled body. The Knight's armor had been caved in as if struck by a catapult, his plate more blood-red than silver. Hyland's fingers, knees, and neck were twisted at wince-worthy angles. He wasn't responsive to their pain. Or at all.
I despised him. But undead or not, I didn't have the stomach to stare for long.
The Paladin struggled twice as hard, his neck fighting to turn away. But something won out. He gazed upon his work unflinchingly, regarding Hyland like a lost friend, or something closer, even. Alongside his grief, I noticed, was an air of duty. Of doing what was necessary. That strength guided him toward me.
"You have your things," his voice came deep, yet hollow. "Now, tell of what occurred in this jail. If you would," he added.
I tensed. Retribution wasn't what I feared, but instead, exposure. I couldn't worm out of an explanation, and if I slipped up, or worse…
Oliver, wherever you're hiding, stay put… At least for now.
Masking my concerns, I nodded. "Of course. I'll start at the beginning."
———————————————————————————–——————
Usually, I delighted in deceiving others.
It wasn't my proudest trait, sure, but at the end of the day, I hadn't exactly been blessed with a full deck of talents. And sometimes, it just felt good to be good at something.
My testimony to Gervais couldn't have gone down as a bigger exception.
Not only did I derive zero pleasure from the whole affair, but the core of my testimony was the absolute truth. Gervais did deserve to know what happened, I felt.
Omissions and half-truths, however, obscured just about everything else - like my undeath and Oliver's presence. Those were cooked up on the fly, crafted during the time I bought delving into random tangents. "Oh, and that officer with the green eyes - Abyss, was she sweet. Hope she lands a promotion soon," I'd inject, for example. Call it morbid luck, but Gervais wasn't in the mood to rush me to the point. After all, we had a long climb ahead of us.
And as rose the steps, my weaving between factual description, convenient white lies, and time-wasting chatter became more natural. Easy, even. From the outside, I doubted anyone could tell the difference.
Inside, I was trying desperately not to panic.
Oliver couldn't have taken the ladder or stairway, and he isn't downstairs or in the cell. There's no way to explain his disappearance. But, wait. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. If Gervais doesn't see him, then we're safe. That said…
I slipped a fidgeting hand into my pocket. Friends vanishing into thin air was, I figured, usually for the worst. Though more than anything, I just hoped I wasn't leaving him behind. Not after all that happened.
Oliver, I'll find you. Just wait a little longer.
"After you guys left," I continued to paint Gervais a picture, "I was terrified that Hyland would come back and try to… to kill me. So I used magic to escape the cell. I know I shouldn't have. But I didn't know what else to do."
Not completely true. The possibility that the Knight was that brash didn't even cross my mind. But he was, and that added credence to my words.
The Paladin shook his head. "Your… initiative surprises me. Likewise does your magical ability; most arts would be useless at scarring these walls. However, I would be foolish to admonish you for attempting to flee, considering what followed."
I smiled slightly. Despite the fabrications, my appreciation for his reasonableness was entirely genuine.
"And yet…" grief flashed over Gervais' face. "I still cannot believe this. That Hyland would be so driven to kill an innocent. Or… or perhaps I always saw this outcome on the horizon."
My grin dropped.
The Paladin continued. "His pride and entitlement had simmered for months. Today, it reached a boiling point. And again I stood by, only acting once he crossed a line from which he could never return."
Again?
"…Sorry," I said without thinking.
"Sorry is the last thing you should be. Ultimately, I suspect Hyland would've always fallen from grace, with or without you. Your hand merely aligned events a sliver earlier. And taught me a hard lesson that sliver earlier, as well…"
The Paladin carried himself like a soldier, rigid and tall. But his eyes - faltering ever so slightly - told a story. One that, arguably, I shouldn't have cared about in the slightest. I mean, his own subordinate nearly murdered Oliver and made a trophy out of me. Something Gervais could've put a stop to long before it happened.
But even so, I couldn't help but feel his pain.
The air took on an uncomfortable quiet after that. For all my sympathy, what could I say to him?
Surprisingly, he was the first to break the silence. "Might I bore you with a story?"
I tried not to look confused by the question. "I doubt it'll bore me, but sure."
"Indeed? Then let me recount my youth, when I was younger even than you."
Oh no. Maybe this will actually bore me…
"Odd though it may sound," he gazed ahead. "I violated the law many a time, back in my youth. Broke into homes. Made off with what sparkled in my eye. And if I was spotted? Threats kept witnesses silent."
"What!? You?" I looked at him differently. Someone like Gervais even littering sounded like a joke, let alone thieving.
He nodded. "I was good at it. Brother was better."
His face darkened. "But I eventually made better decisions. Donned this insignia. Yet with each passing year my brother fell into worsening villainy. I never spoke ill of his actions, despite my position. Never stood against him. Never dared to sway his mind. Until finally, on a chilly afternoon, his actions hung him from a leafless tree…"
An old memory, he implied. But his face carried a recently familiar strain. I didn't interject.
"A Templar must be strict, but fair. Doubly so with his subordinates: those closest to him. By forgetting the former - or perhaps never learning it - I failed my title and Belza Hill. I overlooked complaints and accusations on Hyland's behalf. All because he reminded me-"
Gervais swatted a gauntlet. "Apologies. You do not want to hear excuses and tales of woe after what you experienced. From a Templar most of all."
I thought a moment. "Gervais, I barely know a lick about the Order. But aren't you guys supposed to be heroes?"
His eyes fixed onto mine.
"Heroes do what's difficult, I figure. Like stopping someone they care about, if it saves people. I… don't know if I have that in me. But you - I mean, Abyss, your hand's still bleeding for what you did! Maybe you let some things slide before, but in the end, you stopped him. For me, Bo'Rah - everyone's sake. That's a whole lot more deserving of your title than some flashy armor."
After so much deception, telling my honest opinion felt… right. At least, until I remembered who I spoke to.
"E-er, sorry, Paladin Gervais, sir - I didn't mean to insult your plate! And… did I forget your title?" I suddenly had no idea what to do with any of my limbs. "Sorry for that too…"
Shade, Skell! You share a few words and suddenly get comfortable around the guy who's job it is to kill you! Are you dense!?
Gervais' face was still. I'd worried his courtesy reached a limit when the man… laughed. A short, subdued laugh. But that was enough to shock me.
"Be at ease, young man. Rare is it that I am spoken to so candidly. Truth, however, is best taken directly. And, while certainly optimistic, I believe there may hide a certain wisdom in your words."
Wait, really?
The man exhaled, sounding as if some doubt departed with it into the air behind us. "I suppose my telling you that was simply out of a desire to explain my actions. Or inaction, so to speak. This goes without saying, but I no longer see any truth in Hyland's claims. It is abundantly clear that you are as human as I - part of no grand plot or conspiracy. I shudder to think I was led to believe such hogwash."
"Well, lies can get the best of us."
"Indeed they can."
In time, our conversation moved back to my account of the day's events. And while my story went well - with no conflicts to speak of - my mind was plagued by them.
Of course, the same freckled concern beat me over the head. But a new one sprouted right beside it. One I'd soon have to take up with the Paladin…
———————————————————————————–——————
"-then you showed up and, well, I guess I don't have to explain the parts you were there for."
"Not at all," The Paladin glanced softly at the destroyed section of railing as we passed it. "Those events are all too clear."
My gaze drifted ahead. For a second time, the jail's exit lied within arm's reach. A part of me felt it was too good to be true. Maybe Hyland would rise again, or Oliver would appear at the worst moment, or a meteor would crash into the jail, burying us in flaming rubble - or something equally unlikely.
At the exit, Gervais let me walk ahead. I pushed aside the half-open door. Then took a step.
No disasters, thankfully. But the shift in atmosphere was just as staggering.
Instead of the dreary, cylindrical jail, I stood at the end of a small entrance chamber - lit warm by a brick fireplace. At the room's right, past a counter covered in illustrated playing cards, was an elevated window.
In it was a reminder of how much I missed freedom.
I barely noticed my body brushing past chairs and chests and into another door to reach the cobblestone street outside. Call me dramatic, but even one day inside that jail was a day too many.
My bones relaxed, taking in the Upper Layer. Breathing was, as always, impossible, but I could still feel the breeze. Unlike the stale, weighty air below, it was crisp and cool - thanks to being hundreds of feet above ground level. Not that you'd know that from where I stood. Tall buildings bordered the curved street's outer edge: a hospital, bank - the kinds of places you wouldn't be excited to visit. They blocked my sight, but I knew what lay beyond: miles and miles of open air. From the right spot, I bet the view was jaw-dropping. You'd spot birds flying below you. Those on the Lower Layer must've looked like ants. And who knew how far the horizon stretched.
My true interest, however, reached even higher.
As always, the world's Ring streamed across the night sky like the tail of a never-ending comet. At each side, countless stars littered the black void in beautiful disarray, the high crescent moon shining brightest of them all.
This sky… I hope I never get tired of it.
"I see you wanted out quite strongly," Gervais followed me outside.
"You know it. Jails and I don't really get along," my eyes hung in the air. "But…" I forced them low, turning around, "I can't help but worry if you won't just take my place."
The Paladin's brow furrowed.
"Hyland. Like I said, I don't know much about the Templars. But I can't imagine they take kindly to infighting."
"Ah. Your concern is appreciated. But at worst, I will be reprimanded for other missteps. As the Templar oaths state: 'I will never raise a blade against my fellow Templar, barring the most extreme of circumstances.' Today's events, I would argue, fulfill that condition."
These guys take up oaths, too?
"No," he continued, "I will be well. If anything, I expected you to ask what comes next for yourself."
"Well," I stifled a nervous laugh, "that question isn't as easy to ask."
"Let me assuage your fears, then. Hyland has been… dispatched, and you have told me all I need to know. Your troubles end here. Anything further is for me to manage."
That was nice to hear. But that "further" begged me to ask for clarification.
"All I refer to is the inevitable result of this incident: my superiors will learn of it, they will want answers, and I will give them. Including your role in this."
I grew colder all of a sudden. By the way he and Hyland spoke in the jail, their bosses operated in the capital. For all I knew, that could've even been where the Order kept their headquarters.
Bad enough, considering the capital was my next destination, but if the Templars found out I - the man accused of being undead - was in the city? Maybe it was paranoia talking, but even if Hyland's claim was considered ridiculous, that sort of attention would be the worst kind to have hanging over my head while I scoured the city for information.
"Having said that," added Gervais, "my report will not include your name. Or any identifying details, for that matter."
Wh-what?
"Additionally, the letter we discussed in your cell, the one addressing our superiors, will not reach the capital. I tasked Hyland with having it delivered, yet I found it in his room's wastebasket. Once he chose to kill you, I gather, he deemed the message pointless. Another infuriating act of disobedience, but therein lies a silver lining: nothing ties you to this incident."
I couldn't help but be confused. Sure, I had my own reason for not wanting my name known to the Order, but Gervais' couldn't possibly have been the same.
"Why… why don't you want them to know I'm connected to this? Would something bad happen to me, if they knew I fought against Hyland? Or was accused of being… inhuman?"
"I am doubtful. No, my intentions were more, shall we say, positive."
The Paladin walked closer, standing over me at the road's center. The moon beamed down on us both.
"Young man, have you ever considered the position of Templar?"
Words, movement, even my thoughts froze at his question.
"It goes without saying that we have lost a Knight. Templars are a rare breed. Not easily replaced. Yet I sense two traits within you that our Order will never have in surplus: compassion, and magical talent - enough to escape bondage and face a Knight in single combat."
Single combat was not how I'd describe our battle. Not that I'd correct him. Or could even find the words to.
"I see you find the idea overwhelming. It is a lot to consider, and I understand if you would prefer to never see a Templar again, after today. Do not feel obligated to say yes."
Overwhelming was an understatement. If you listed all the reasons why Skell being a Templar was the absolute worst idea in the history of human thought, all the trees in the world wouldn't make for enough paper.
One reason, though, was enough on it's own.
An undead, fighting as a holy warrior? I collected myself. Sounds like a match made in the foulest depths of the Abyss.
I opened my mouth to respond, before another line of thinking cut it off. "That's why you're keeping my name out of this. Let's say I did join the Order. Your bosses would know I fought a Templar before. Had a hand in his downfall, even. That wouldn't look pretty on the job application, would it?"
The Paladin nodded, seeming impressed. "To note your identity would sabotage your chances. And truthfully, my superiors have no use for your name, only that a citizen is Hyland's victim. They will not care for it's exclusion from my report."
So that explains it. But that still leaves my answer…
"Sorry." I looked away. "Praise like that means a lot. But I couldn't be a Templar."
He studied me.
"I'm still trying to figure out… a lot of things, really. Myself. My goals…" I shook my head. "What I'm saying is, something like the Templars sounds like a big commitment. And right now, I'm not in a good place to make those."
That wasn't the whole of it. But it was the truth.
"A fair answer. Well, the offer stands, if you ever reconsider."
Reconsider? That meteor crashing into the jail sounds more likely.
"In any case," he said, "we both surely have matters to attend to. Yet with so much said, I fear I've forgotten something important. Earlier, I misspoke. Tomorrow, there will be one more thing you must do before this can all be shelved away."
Shade…
"There is no need for that face," the Paladin said, amused. "See, the Templars are one matter. But Belza Hill is not my town; it is the Baroness'. An incident of this magnitude - occurring within her very baronry - is something she will be very… eager to know of."
"This Baroness wants to hear it from me? Personally?"
"She will have already heard it from myself, before you see her. But the Baroness is not one for go-between's."
I considered the idea of meeting a Baroness. Someone who made sweeping decisions that affected thousands.
I didn't like it.
The Paladin raised a finger, pointing behind me. "There. That is her home."
Now, Belza Hill was an odd town - built like the stony equivalent of a wedding cake. In a sense, we stood at the top, But there was one spot higher than all the rest: a circular plateau level to the nearby rooftops, covering the Upper Layer's innermost section.
Atop that, though I didn't have the best angle, were trimmed hedges and the corner of a grand building. Anything more was impossible to see.
"You are to visit her manor at noon. She will know to expect you."
"Isn't this… sudden?" I asked. "I mean, she's a Baroness. Won't she be busy?"
"She knows how to make time. Trust in that."
Yeah, just make her sound more ominous, thanks.
"But I have gone on long enough," said the Templar. "We are both weary, and have beds and warm fires to return to."
My eyes made for a nearby signpost. The stairs to the Middle Layer weren't far. "True. I'm itching to lay down and forget this whole day ever happened."
"Well, I must ask that you be punctual tomorrow. And to be respectful. And… to have a good, safe night."
I took his words to heart. "Same to you, Paladin Gervais."
My feet took to the left, the Templar marching the opposite direction.
Wish I could thank him for keeping me out of the Order's notice. He has no idea how much of a help that is. But if I even hint at it, I'll basically be ratting7 on myself. Urgh…
Then again… maybe I don't have to be so direct.
I turned. "And, also… thanks again," I smiled. "For everything."
"Likewise, young man," he responded, face surprisingly affable. Despite everything. "May the sun light your way."
I'd never heard that phrase before. A farewell, clearly. But something about it stuck with me for a long time.
———————————————————————————–——————
Bittersweet moonlight poured through the streets, the cobblestone paths gleaming like jeweled veins across the Middle Layer.
In a way, it was almost like they ushered me to my destination. Impossible, of course. But I liked the thought. And it explained why my steps were so sure, absorbed as I was in my own mind.
I survived a Templar. More than that, I wiped that smug grin off his face and now I'll never have to deal with him again. It's a small shame that he - that anyone could end up like… that. But I'm free now. Safe from the Templars and glamoured. So why am I not happy?
I peered at my side. Across the empty street was a bright tavern packed with merry patrons raising foam-tipped tankards.
Right. Because there's no one to celebrate with.
As I passed it, my thoughts moved to Cynthine. For the hundredth time, I asked the same question. How do I tell her?
"Yeah, so the last connection to your lifelong companion just vanished in the wind and it's all my fault. Anyway, finish my glamour, please?"
I noticed a signpost. The meeting place wasn't far, and with each step my hand gripped the backpack's strap tighter.
Maybe she'll be able to help me find him, wherever he is. After the inevitable tongue-lashing, that is. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking…
I grappled with my concerns a time longer, a battle I wished I could tap out of. But they grew unbearable. Everything I kept at bay during my conversation with the Paladin came crashing down.
A place to rest, I suddenly grew weary. Just for a few minutes. But not here. Away from the main road.
Not far off the glimmering path, I found a quiet set of stairs inside the gap between buildings. With heavy steps I descended below ground, finding a boarded-up door at the bottom. I sat at it's foot, tossing aside the backpack.
Leaning back, I half cursed myself and half wracked my brain. Yet the time I spent there was worthless. Nothing made sense. I couldn't find him. I wouldn't find him.
"I'm sorry, Oliver," I let drift into the air. "If I knew where you were, I'd do anything to bring you back. Like you did for me. If I just knew…"
".s .. .a.. .. …e o.."
My chin dropped and my eyes darted. Did I hear something, or-
"I. .t …e t. c… ..t?"
"W-what the heck?" I said.
That's a voice for sure - and it's close.
But I was alone in the narrow alley. Then it hit me.
I laid my ear against the barred door. Someone must be back there…
Yeah. I never claimed I was smart.
"Is it safe to come out!?" asked a muffled voice beside me. One I found very familiar.
Shock pounded inside me. N-not the door! It's coming from-
Nearly falling over myself, I reached for the backpack, tugging wildly at the zipper. Soon as the sides parted, a head forced it's way out like a mole.
Oliver's head, however, pointed away. "Skell? I'm here. I know that was your voice, but where are you? And…" he stared at the corner, slack-jawed, "are we still in the jail!? I thought we escaped!"
I had questions of my own. How was Oliver here? How did he fit inside a backpack half his height? And why was his face still his own and not the Knight's?
But they didn't matter then. He was safe.
He finally turned around, face lighting up. "Oh! Skell! It's you! I-"
Reaching into the backpack, I pulled out Oliver along with the glamoured plate he wore. Thankfully, illusions were about as heavy as you'd imagine.
"Oliver!" I stepped back, watching him readjust to solid ground. "You knucklehead! I thought you disappeared. Got lost somewhere! Disappeared into the ether! I was-" my eyes met his, and they were wide, "…nevermind."
I turned away. "More importantly, this whole time, you were in the backpack? Literally on my shoulders? Did you curl into a ball and stuff yourself inside?"
Oliver seemed overwhelmed. "W-well, um, kind of…? But I can explain! When I found my backpack in the jail, I was about to put it on. Then… there was a really loud noise behind me. It was the Templar. He hit the ground. And he didn't get back up."
I turned back to Oliver. Only then did I notice the tear stains on his cheeks.
"He made me so mad," he continued. "I couldn't believe someone like him worked with Amara. And, I know he was our enemy. But there was so much… blood. His face, too… I-"
"You don't have to finish," my tone lightened, "I understand. And… I didn't mean to yell."
His face remained pale. Oliver wasn't short on reasons to be upset, but I sensed something more. Though, I wouldn't question him.
After all, the rest of the story was clear in his eyes.
Hyland's mangled body would've been a tough sight for anyone. Oliver, especially. Poor guy learned about his grandfather's death while fighting for his own life. It's a miracle he didn't fall apart then and there. But everyone's got a breaking point. He hid in Ansel's backpack. Probably the safest and closest place he could find in that moment.
…He's been crying, too. Must be why the glamour isn't masking his face. If rage reveals my true face, then…
"I ran," he mumbled. "I left you behind."
"Your hiding saved us," I tapped his shoulder, then pointed up. "Look. That's the night sky."
"What?" his attention lifted from the ground, face becoming quickly soaked in rays of moonlight.
"Without you, I would've never been able to smile at it again. I know it's a lot to ask, but don't be sad. Be proud. You saved me. You're a hero."
Oliver's stunned eyes rested above for a long time. By the time they met me however, I could've sworn they regained a hint of vibrancy. "I heard you talking with that other Templar, from inside the backpack. He would've caught me, wouldn't he?"
I nodded.
"Then, it was all for the best…"
He released a weighty breath. "So everything's right as rain. Amazing. It felt like everything went wrong. But we're out, and okay."
"That's right," I smiled, feeling similarly unburdened. "A short walk from here and we'll be back with Cynthine."
More color returned to his face.
"But… something puzzles me." I reached down, curling the backpack. "Yeah. It's like I thought."
Oliver stared, confused.
"This weight," I said, "it's the exact same as before - when you were inside. And all the other times I carried it. That doesn't make any sense. You'd more than double this backpack's heft once you were inside. I'd need to activate my Shroud to carry it then. But I didn't have any trouble. And now that I'm thinking about it, squeezing in there, between the axes and toilet paper, might as well be impossible."
"Oh, that?" asked Oliver. "Grandpa's backpack is enchanted, is all."
"What!?" I nearly dropped the bag. "You're telling me we've been casually lugging around a magical treasure? This thing fell in mud the other day!"
"Treasure?" Oliver asked. "It's really important to me, but I reckon you might be overselling it a little."
"Underselling's more like it. Depending on the enchantment, you could sell this for enough to buy a house, pay someone to demolish it, then get a second one built on the ashes."
Oliver wasn't amused by the example.
"N-not that we'd ever do that, of course." My eyes moved to appraise the backpack from several angles. "Though, this looks like any normal bag. What's the catch?"
"Well, umm…" Oliver scratched his hair.
"It's complicated?"
"Kind of. Grandpa tried to explain it to me, once. He said something like… oh! 'Like a wrinkle in the pants of space'! Or was it 'a pocket in our world's pants'?"
I frowned. "What's with the fixation on pants?"
"Because I know he mentioned something about pants. I swear!"
"…Right. You know what? How about I just go inside like you did?"
I bent to a knee, resting the backpack on the ground. "Better yet, I'll just stick my head in. Since you stayed inside so long, its gotta be safe, and maybe from there I'll notice something that'll unravel this backpack's secrets."
"That would work," Oliver took a seat on the stairs, "but you might want to take a deep breath first. Some don't take to what they see very well."
I snickered. "It's just a backpack. Enchanted or not," I lowered my head, "I doubt anything inside could-"
A plunge underwater. That was the only feeling even slightly akin to the instant shift in environment.
There was no water however, or grass or life or even a sky. Simply a space of constantly shifting color - the size of a modest room. Within these strange, seemingly unbreakable boundaries were our assorted belongings, floating loosely with space to spare. Those mundane objects did little to keep me grounded.
And that went literally; my head dropped into this realm from the low-hanging "ceiling", a massive zipper that I could only imagine matched the one I unsealed just moments ago. I tried not to think too hard about it. My eyes moved elsewhere. That was a mistake.
Besides bearing an ever-shifting mix of color - some I wasn't entirely sure existed - the boundaries were transparent. A lens into what resembled an unending dark. A void blacker than black. Not merely "nothing notable", but the absence of any and all things either material or magical, living or dead. My thoughts, by then, were falling into an endless spiral, considering the inconsiderable, asking the unknowable.
The sensation of my mind softening into pudding was, believe it or not, a powerful incentive to leave. I snapped out of the haze and quickly pulled myself out.
Within a blink, the world became strikingly normal again. I was met with a sudden calm as the eldritch thoughts dispersed, just as I was met with Oliver's disappointed mug.
"You too?" Oliver puffed. "I reckon I'll never understand. Might be some folks just think too hard when they're inside."
"H-huh? So when you enter that weird world - not just looking, but full on diving inside - you're not bothered?"
"Why would I be? I think the colors are relaxing. Sometimes they even help me when counting sheep doesn't work."
You sleep in there!?
I shook my head. "Regardless, I think I've made sense of this. Some sense. That enchantment must hide a freaky realm within the backpack, one way bigger than the dimensions you see from the outside. A… unique enchantment, if I've ever seen one."
Not that I have memories of seeing much of anything.
"That's different than grandpa explained it," Oliver said, "but you're right, for sure."
"Thanks. And somehow, I managed not to mention pants."
It wasn't one of my better jokes, but Oliver burst into laughter. Maybe, I guessed, he was latching onto any positive emotion that kept his mind occupied. Or he had low standards. Both were entirely possible.
Either way, seeing him laugh again was a warming sight. His face missed the genuine joy I'd come to associate with him.
At least until, mid-laugh, his face morphed into Hyland's.
My body very clumsily snapped away. As I stumbled into the boarded door though, reason came knocking.
R-right. That's not him. It's just-
"What's wrong?" asked Oliver, wearing the Knight's mug and speaking in his voice. He looked around, giving me every angle of a face I never wanted to see again. "Did you spot a bug?"
"No-nope, I just, er, remembered how important it is that we get to Cynthine! We do need her to finish my glamour."
And take off yours while she's at it…
———————————————————————————–——————
It wasn't long until we turned into a quiet lane - even moreso than the rest of the Middle Layer's sparse streets.
Though that "we" could be easily mistaken for the "oui" I'd heard spoken all throughout town. Oliver wasn't "with" me; he was inside the strange realm resting on my shoulders - both infinitely far, yet less than a foot away.
Now, neither of us wanted him to burrow back in there. But although we were in the home stretch, he couldn't take any chances being seen as "Hyland". Not until we were with Cynthine. Luckily, she was right down the street.
An odd assortment met us as we passed through. Like a "laundromat", where a launderer casts water and wind arts to wash and dry your clothes, or a learning center where children were taught useful, but harmless magic. But the most out-of-place stood at the lane's end.
Feline Fellowship of Lumerit - Belza Hill Branch? I squinted at the wooden plaque hanging by the door. The engraving of a smiling cat was tucked in it's corner.
This was our destination. Cynthine was inside.
I closed my eyes, placing my hand on the doorknob.
This old witch really is something else…