The day was gray and rainy, and the orphanage sank into its usual dull routine. Boredom hung in the air, thick as the porridge at lunch. The four friends were passing the time in the empty classroom, exchanging rare words, when their solitude was broken by the creak of wheels and loud voices from the yard.
Kaedan was the first to the window.
"A merchant!" he whispered, beckoning the others.
They crowded at the dusty glass, watching Miss Elira help unload a few sacks from a cart. A short, stocky man in an old cloak bustled near her—Old Kel, a rare visitor whose arrival always promised news from the big world.
"Let's hide and listen," Gil whispered efficiently, already making her way to the coveted crack in the pantry wall, from where Elira's office was perfectly audible.
Holding their breath, the children pressed against the crack. The talk was first of grain, the price of wool and nails. But then Kel, sighing heavily, moved on to more important matters.
"...and the Rakash Dynasty, I hear, are launching new ships. Iron ones, can you imagine? They say they sail the seas like fortresses."
Dur's heart stopped. He didn't know what a "dynasty" was, but the word "ships" resonated within him with a vague tremor.
"They're raising church taxes again," the merchant continued, snorting. "In the east, I hear there's a crop failure, people are rioting... It's a headache for the Agrim family now, not a holding."
They caught every word like hungry chicks. "Iron ships," "church taxes," "crop failure," "Agrim"—these words were mysterious runes to them, fragments of a map of an unknown world. Ulvia clenched her fists, her eyes burning. Kaedan frowned, trying to imagine an iron vessel. Gil seemed to be memorizing every last sound.
When the cart left and Miss Elira retreated to her quarters, they crept out of their hiding place and silently sat down in their corner. Gil broke the silence.
"The Rakash Dynasty," she said, looking around at her friends. "That must be those who have power. The power to build iron ships."
"And 'church taxes'... is that something bad?" Ulvia asked, frowning. "Why are the people rioting?"
"In the east, where Agrim rules, life is hard for people," Dur said quietly, and everyone looked at him. He rarely ventured guesses first.
They sat like that until evening, speculating, arguing, and fantasizing. In their imaginations, iron giants sailing on rivers, stern warriors from the East, and distant lands full of suffering took shape. The world beyond the orphanage walls, which had previously been just an empty space on their homemade map, was beginning to take on its first, ghostly outlines. It was huge, complex, and full of secrets that beckoned them with irresistible force.