Traverse The Fog

Milligan. How do I join? He had seen members in white academic robes in passing glances. Were they students? Come to think of it, what about the Spectres? Not once had she broached the subject. Maybe when they trust me a bit more...

Out the front doors, they went. Outside lay the grand plaza, teeming with the chaos of life. Pushing through the tide was more troublesome than flowing with it.

"Is it always this crowded?" Cyrus asked, yelling against the clamorous backdrop.

Lady Dílis glanced backward and gifted a weak smile. "Sorry about that. There's currently a recruitment drive, and everyone is rushing to apply. It's because there are recruitment caps until the city expands."

Was being a guardsman such a lofty job?

"What about The Wayfarers?" Cyrus slipped through a pair of arguing twin sisters. "Are they as popular?"

There it was—a subtle flinch in Lady Dílis' shoulders and a brief pause in her steps. She tried to hide it but failed.

"I wish," she clipped. "Few entertain the thought of stepping outside."

Oh? Cyrus was not surprised. Make sense. Why go hard when there are easier ways to live a life? But—maybe. Cyrus darted at Lady Dílis' despondent steps. Maybe there's a path for me.

He recalled her adoring fans. They stopped her with smiling faces to shower her with thanks and praise. But if she mentioned joining the cause at any moment, they had to leave. The streets are littered with recruitment posters, yet no one gives a glance. On the opposite end of the spectrum lay The Guard. While it was most certainly not a cushy job and probably had its dangers, it was a more practical choice.

This could work—The two broke through the final checkpoint of the plaza—Now, strike.

"That's a shame," he somberly replied, mirroring her disappointed countenance. "Wayfarers risk their lives to help their city grow... You'd think more people were willing to help their own."

She paused this time. "It's especially hard in Avalorn." Lady Dílis faced him with a bitter smile. "At least, that's what my father told me."

"Why is that?"

"It's because of those so-called nobles!" She hissed, clenching her fists. "Thanks to our illustrious leader, Eolas, they've had free reign over the city for centuries." —Lady Dílis took a deep breath, calming herself before locking eyes with Cyrus— "And, I've heard the stories—the robbing of Avalorn's resources and talent."

Nobles? This girl talks a lot with a little probing. Cyrus' gaze landed on one of the many guards at the checkpoint. "So, how many Wayfarers do you have?"

Lady Dílis stiffened. And a despondent silence hung between the two underneath the waves of noise.

"Three hundred members," she eventually said, lifting three fair fingers. "That's all we have."

Three hundred? Cyrus glanced around, counting as many guardsmen as he could. This plaza alone held as many as the Wayfarer department.

Lady Dílis could not help but laugh defeatedly at the sight of his reaction.

"From what my father told me—" She began, dazedly staring beyond the crowd and onto The Guard's administration building. "—the Wayfarers here were already generations behind the other city-states when he arrived. But how are we supposed to expand when the enlistment offices are empty?"

"And now he's stuck with a mess?"

Lady Dílis nodded. "It wasn't until his arrival that Wayfarers received the respect and resources they deserved." Before Cyrus could ask more, she half-heartedly shook her head. "Come on, let's get on the tour."

The two began to move away from the plaza. Subtly, Cyrus glanced at her depressing aura. Should he comfort her? That would make him appear friendly...

But the sudden sight of a bouncing blonde-haired, blue-eyed guardsman shifted his attention. The guard stood with his squadmates, seemingly unfazed by their puzzled stares, as he flailed his arms about. It was clear that he desperately wished to speak to the two, yet he remained firmly stationed at the corner post of The Guard building.

Who's that? A friend of Lady Dílis?

"Do you know that guard, Cyrus?"

Cyrus blinked. Did he know that man? He searched the memories of the past two days, but nothing had come up.

"I don't think so."

"Do you want to see what he wants?" Lady Dílis asked, staring at the guardsman's antics. "He seems desperate."

Cyrus shook his head. "Next time. That is if we meet him again."

Lady Dílis tilted her head in thought. Time was running short, and she had other tasks. In the end, she agreed with him, and the two left without so much as a glance back. Meanwhile, the guardsman was crushed. Shoulders slumping, he stood helplessly, losing sight of them in the heavy crowd.

The tour continued through Avalorn's verdant streets. Yet as time pressed forward, Lady Dílis' mood progressively soured. It was easy to tell that her organization's current predicament struck her hard.

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"Are you ok?" Cyrus tentatively asked. "Should we take a break?"

"No, no it's fine." She tiredly sighed beside him. " Sorry, it's just—" Another sigh. "—Eolas created a mess that will take decades to fix."

There it was, again—how she spoke about her father's mentor. Cyrus would have an easier time squeezing water from a rock than finding her respect in the previous Dúndraíocht.

"Without control over the local topography, how can the city properly grow?" Cyrus said, hoping for more brownie points. "I'm not from these parts, and even I can tell you are underappreciated."

"Yes!" Miss Dílis exclaimed, beaming at him. "Without us, we'll always be a small city."

"What about your father? Has he ventured around Avalorn?"

Lady Dílis somewhat deflated at his question. "Not often. My father has plenty of critical procedures that demand his attention. Moreover, some expeditions would take weeks, even months." Her gaze flittered to his, hesitating. "He's also the most powerful mage in Avalorn, so he has to stay here should anything occur."

Most powerful? What did that mean? Cyrus tilted his head in thought. "What, could he take down three or four men at once with some weird plant abilities?"

Lady Dílis paused in her steps. She had forgotten that Cyrus was completely new to all of this. So, he was surprised by the utmost certainty on her face, her words slow and precise as if she wanted him to remember them forever. "My father could single-handedly destroy Avalorn if he so desired."

Cyrus stilled his steps. She was serious, wasn't she? But how could this be? There were no doubt tens of thousands of people in Avalorn, and with plenty of mages, too. This had to be a joke—some hyperbole. But as he desperately searched for foolish pride or exaggeration on her face, Cyrus was found wanting.

Was this true? Did Lord Dílis Cosan, who spoke as if he were a friend with that subtle, friendly smile, could obliterate this city? There and then, the man who stuffed his face with fruit pies now equated to demigods of old or comic book superheroes. And yet, one could never tell, not with how he poised himself.

It was frightening. It was exhilarating.

Magic. What else could it do? Dazed, Cyrus followed in silence. He had not witnessed such power, but it did not stop him from daydreaming. Could I attain such heights?

Before he realized it, a tiny ember of desire ignited in his chest, ever hungry for more. Now, the idea of learning magic has taken root. To wield his future in his palms and boldly go into the horizon. The thought brought his gaze toward the building tops. As if with supervision, he imagined his gaze slowly tracing the ramparts. Yet in Cyrus' reverie, a sudden thought swam within the depths of his mind: If Lord Dílis was powerful enough to destroy Avalorn... then what lurks beyond these walls?

A cold sweat drenched his back. However, such thoughts shattered like the storefront's glass display beside the two. A sudden gale blew from within, forcing the two to shield and retreat as a masked man in black clothing vaulted out from the shattered window.

Cyrus peered through his fingers and witnessed the man roll into a stand. Cradled in his arms was a glowing cyan crystal as big as a man's head.

The man scanned the area in search of guardsmen. But when he found none, his back stood much straighter. At least, that was until he finally noticed Lady Dílis Wayfarer's ensemble.

"Stop!" Lady Dílis exclaimed, instinctively reaching beneath her arm coat for an empty revolver holster.

The three then stilled at Dílis's embarrassment, but that was enough of a distraction. Moving first, the thief palmed forward and released a weak gust on the two of them, knocking them off their feet.

Scrambling up, Cyrus froze as he watched the thief crouch before launching himself into the air with... wind abilities? And as if that weren't enough for his disbelief, he watched the thief firmly plant his feet on one of the brick buildings that lined Avalorn's streets, beguiling gravity.

Click

"Cyrus, what are you doing? Really, taking 'fow-tows' at a moment like this?" Lady Dílis exclaimed, scrambling into a stand.

Unabashedly, Cyrus lowered his camera. "It's for the memories."

She flickered at him in exasperated shock before breaking for one of the many vines that crept on the city's structures. With a wave of her hand, a plethora of buds grew on the green tendrils. And not a moment later, they all bloomed into flowers and started screeching in unison.

What the hell was she doing? Under the horrid chorus, Cyrus covered his ears. He looked around as the few remaining pedestrians scattered, followed by the appearance of six guardsmen.

"I'm going to catch him. Are you coming?" She did not wait for an answer as she ran off in pursuit.

Oh, well, I have to see this. Cyrus slowly stood up, watching the guardsmen following her. "Coming!"

He wrapped an arm around his camera as he trailed behind. Yet, to his shock, everyone was slowly gaining speed away from him. Cyrus was no track star, but he still ran daily back in his hom—wait. How was everyone faster than him? Especially Lady Dílis, who easily matched the speed of the ridiculous thief who defied gravity.

The thief was also surprised, and in a sudden movement, he crouched. Air churning, the overgrown foliage around him shook and tore as he leaped across the narrow street. Akin to a trapeze artist, he connected to the other side by cartwheeling, then correcting himself into a sprint in a single motion.

The chase went on for ten more minutes. Leg muscles aching, Cyrus struggled to keep up with everyone else. Yet, the sight before him kept him from abandoning the chase. Mouth agape, he watched the thief effortlessly step around the corners and hop over firestops while maintaining perfect orientation and acceleration. But why not simply jump over roofs?

There was no answer. Those who managed to last this long were losing their patience. And one of the guards lost it. Face red, the woman stomped on the ground. The ground trembled, spitting out three shards of cobblestone before her, and she launched forward with her three swift jabs. They shot forward like bullets, ready to strike their target. And yet, the thief hasn't bothered with so much as a glance back as he twisted his body in evasion. The stones crashed onto the building's walls, but by then, the thief had long been gone.

How? Cyrus arched his brows. Is this guy a circus performer?!

A moment later, he watched Miss Dílis make several gestures before splitting off into the alleyway beside them. Opting to follow, Cyrus tried to catch up, weaving past streets and almost losing her a couple of times. That was until he turned a corner and spotted her hiding at the far end of the street.

"What's your plan?" Cyrus asked between heaving breaths.

She silently hushed him before grabbing hold of a vine and closing her eyes. In almost an instant, the vines suddenly stretched and thickened to the width of a man's arm. They slithered and arranged themselves along the wall above her, coiling like serpents.

It didn't take long for the duo to overhear the yells of the approaching guardsmen. One breath. Two. Moments later, the fugitive leaped over them, launching himself toward a wall across the street.

Ready to strike, Miss Dílis pointed at the thief in mid-air. The vines then shot forward. In a breath, they lunged before him and twisted around like a boa constrictor, uncaring for the retaliatory wind gusts. Then, they yanked back, entrapping the thief in a cocoon of vines.

There was no escape.