"If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't expecting you to win, heh."
Julian sat quietly as Dr. Vaen tended to his wounds. The lamp hanging overhead swayed as the wind from the open window passed into the room.
"How would you say I did?" asked Julian. He winced slightly as his injuries were tended to.
"Well, your body is heavily undeveloped. Like all muscles, it needs to be worked out. You're compared to an infant demon. But you would still lose to an infant demon, born with natural warrior instincts and sharp senses."
"Demons are no joke, then," Julian quietly laughed. He did face off against a pure-blooded demon, anyway.
So, that's why I'm lucky to have encountered that deity, instead of another. Because they're so powerful, they're frowned upon. So, I would've been instantly killed.
"Don't get too comfortable, Julian."
"I wasn't planning on it, knowing you. But why do you say that, Dr. Vaen?"
"Haha, your personality is developing quite well, Julian. But it's simple. There is a bit more training that you have to do. Then, after that, there will be surgery. After that, you will be educated. And this will be a successful experiment. A creature that can behave correctly in a social situation!"
Dr. Vaen laughed with an open mouth, his hands stretched out to the side. Julian shuddered quietly, laughing awkwardly along with him.
Dr. Vaen, you are starting to resemble a mad scientist. He made sure to say this in his head.
. . .
. .
The slave refugee village in Venichian.
"Hey, Oscar. You aren't a slave yet. So why do you feel the need to work so hard, producing manual labour for this village?"
Ailen and Oscar sat beside each other, with Oscar watching the warm sun set. They sat atop the fences that surrounded the village, as chatter ensued behind them.
"There are not a lot of people who are willing to work. After being freed, all you would want to do is relax and enjoy your life. So I have to step up, of course," he quickly replied, leaving no time to think about it.
"Hm," Ailen promptly responded with a jut of air.
In his hand, he held a cup of distilled juice, still somewhat sweet.
"Despite the stillness of your expression, and the autonomy of your self, I guess there's still some human in you, Oscar."
Ailen hopped off the fence, landing on two feet toward the village. Immediately, he was flocked by a few kids who wanted to play. Oscar sat quietly.
. . .
. .
.
Night had fallen.
Oscar had been living in a moderately sized, three-bedroom home with Ailen, Veind, and Elyse. Dinner arrived, which was made well by Elyse, who was surprisingly skilled at cooking. A proper meal consisting of meat and vegetables.
Their utensils clicked against their plates, eagerly. An enthusiastic fire burned in their hearts.
Slipping the tender meat into his mouth and chewing firmly, a solemn tear slid down Ailen's cheek.
With shaky breaths, he quietly remarked, "It's... so good..."
"It's more than good! It's amazing!" Veind spoke passionately.
"Haha..." Elyse quietly laughed, her head lowered. Oscar, Elyse, and Veind all turned toward her in worry.
"What's wrong?" Oscar was the first person to ask. After a few seconds of silence, she lifted her head up again.
"It's nothing..."
"..."
"Really, it's nothing! I'm happy. Happy that we all made it through, and we get to finally eat warm meals like this. It's really nice. I'm happy that we're people, now."
Veind grinned, "I'm happy, too."
"Me three!" Ailen sniffled.
"Me four," Oscar said.
The mood at the dinner table grew into something far warmer. They all engaged in lively chatter, playful banter, and things of such nature.
It was hours later, and everyone walked into their room. Ailen slept on the top bunk, while Oscar slept on the bottom bunk. But Oscar was not asleep. He got up, lighting a candle by his desk. Out of the drawer underneath, he pulled out a letter.
The yellow letter sat flat atop his wooden desk, sealed with a waxy, blue substance. The symbol that was pressed into the wax was strangely familiar to Oscar. Maybe he had seen it in a newspaper? No matter. He opened the letter quietly.
The paper was dingy, off-white, and stale in a way. Legible pensmanship in dark ink, with the ink blobbing up here and there, looking smeared.
...
I... can't read.
Oscar slid the paper back into the drawer, underneath a separate stack of papers.
This is a problem for another day.
. . .
. .
.
Granal, Capital of Gonteno. Residence of the Saint
"What a brave group of children. To think you came all the way through the barbarian territory... just to reach Gonteno..."
In front of the reduced group stood a tall, elven woman. Her hair was quite long, though efficiently tied and placed into a neat bun. Her light blue eyes were like vibrant blue lakes, full of life yet an overwhelming sorrow. She stared at Rar's lack of arm as if she were in pain herself.
They stood in the hall of a large, white cathedral. The floors were made out of quartz tiles, black and white squares. There were guards, armed with large halberds and clad in heavy armor, standing by the walls at the side.
And on the large, regal, beautifully patterned wall opposite the door, an even larger circle of stained glass had presented itself, with articulate and beautiful designs that made Lyrei's head spin.
This... is the Saint Meri.
He could not take his eyes off her. Not simply because she was beautiful, although she was, but because there was also a strange allure to her.
She's incredibly powerful, I can tell. More powerful than anyone else I've ever met.
Agh. Why am I thinking about fighting? This is the Saint! Rar shook his head.
"You children will be escorted to a room where you can stay for the time being. I'll take the child and heal him," she said, grabbing Rar's hand. They all nodded, of course, not objecting to this.