Traverse The Fog

The day passed quickly. The following morning, a tired Cyrus was lost in thought. He imagined the orange sigil and wondered about its existence. Had it entered his body on the trip to this world or when Cyrus arrived unconscious? Before the event altogether? He shuddered at the thought. Did magic exist in his old world?

"It's in the past," he muttered, more as a comfort. But soon, his thoughts melted away, replaced by excitement. Today was the day!

Fergus had promised, against his protocol, to sneak in a book because of his efforts. And why wouldn't Cyrus be excited? This novel was the crystallization of civilization from another world in written form!

Knowledge! Culture! Myths and Legends! Maybe even magic!

And as equally important, it was a symbol of trust. And that thought brought a smile to his lips.

As if to confirm his jubilation, Cyrus heard footsteps closing in. Excited and hopeful, he sprang from the bed and dusted himself. With a spring in his step, he moved to the door with a genuine smile tugging his lips.

"Fergus, my friend! How are yo—" Cyrus froze as his gaze met an unexpected sight.

There, five men stood in a line—Fergus among them, who wore a pained expression. The three other guardsmen were unfamiliar, but the last man brought a shiver of fear up Cyrus' spine. Officer Orionis. Had Fergus been caught so quickly? The man in question stared passively at Fergus as if he had just discovered a small secret.

Damn it.

"Good morning, Wade. I trust your time here was... enjoyable," Orionis said. Slowly, painfully, he removed his attention from Fergus and onto him. "His Stewardship has called for you, today."

The Steward? Now? Cyrus lowered his face to hide his frustration. I was too slow... Damn it.

Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped back, allowing the guards to unlock the door and his cuffs. Cyrus would be suicidal to fight back now. Soon afterward, they escorted him through the dimly lit corridors and into one of the bastions. There, he climbed down its stone steps and stepped through the exit, where a single cobblestone path leading into a forest greeted him.

Oh? There's no fog. Cyrus scanned his surroundings and enjoyed the fresh air. That's pretty comforting.

This had been the clearest view he had had since his arrival in this strange world. It was a stark discrepancy compared to the hazy gossamer that clung to everything in sight beyond the wall.

Not that the others allowed him a moment to enjoy it. The guardsmen wasted no time and silently led him along the path until they reached a quaint, unassuming black coach. But what did catch Cyrus' attention were the creatures harnessed to it.

Two large deer-like animals were positioned in front of the coach, ready to move. Tall and majestic, their bodies resembled horses adorned with black fur complemented by striking white and orange spots. They possessed a thick mane, with the outer coat displaying a fall orange while the inner fur gleamed white. And their tails. They were fluffy and long enough to touch the ground.

What is that? Stopping his pace, Cyrus' gaze landed on their antlers, entranced. They had glowing viridian etched right into the bone.

How majes—"Move it, prisoner!" A guard shoved him forward.

Glaring back at the unbidden touch, Cyrus eventually sighed and relented. I need my camera back.

He was forced inside, with Officer Orionis sitting opposite him while the guardsmen sat on the outer seats. And with everything settled, the coach set off.

...

As expected, the travel was dull. Cyrus posed some questions in hopes of gaining some insights into Avalorn and The Steward.

Orionis fell into a momentary silence, his stoic gaze transfixed on his prisoner. "Aren't you worried about yourself?"

"What do you mean?" Cyrus asked, leaning back in his seat.

"I have seen grown men weep under light sentencing." Orionis scanned over Cyrus' relaxed demeanor. "And you stand to meet our city lord in the flesh, who holds the key to your future. Are you not nervous?"

Cyrus slumped in response. "A little bit, but look where I am; I'm sitting in a cozy coach with just an officer casually sitting in front of me. My cuffs are gone. And let's not talk about the security strength of glass windows." His gaze shifted to the window, watching the trees pass by. "If this is how you treat your prisoners, I want to see how you treat your guests."

Silently, Orionis' gaze searched for tells on Cyrus. Something felt wrong in his response. And he'd be right if he knew that Cyrus had already experienced death. Compared to That? This was nothing.

"I see," Orionis began, gaze following Cyrus'. "His Stewardship had watched over Avalorn, defending it with his magic."

Magic. Oh, how Cyrus wanted to ask more. To shake the man before him and demand answers. But he couldn't. He did not want to reveal his ignorance. For all he knew, magic was as typical as the air he breathed.

"Can I have my camera back?" Cyrus asked, playing on his nonchalance.

"No," Orionis replied curtly.

Slightly annoyed, Cyrus persisted in his questions. "Will we pass through the city?"

"No. We want to avoid attracting attention." Orionis pulled out a silver pocketwatch and checked the time. "Instead, we'll take a different route. One that will take us straight to my Lord's manor."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Oh," Cyrus muttered, deflating.

That caused a lull in the conversation for a dozen minutes, which Officer Orionis broke by removing a small pocketbook from his coat.

"We found this on Fergus this morning," he stated, handing it to Cyrus. "Was it meant for you?."

Shit. Am I in trouble? Tensed up, Cyrus glanced at the book. But his expression quickly recovered at the sight of the title. "Sorry, but I'm not into romance novels." He feigned a chuckle and looked out the window. "But maybe he's feeling a bit lonely." And yet, another story brewed in his mind. Holy hell. Did Fergus try to bring me a romance novel? Really?

Cyrus could not truly say whether he was glad or mad about Fergus' decision to smuggle such a lame book. After all, anything worse could have dropped him in hot water.

Orionis flashed a tinge of disbelief but remained silent.

…

For hours, the coach moved through the forest. Not until that stale, pallid light began to dim did it break into a wide-open plain.

"We're here," Orionis said, stretching his arms. "Prepare yourself."

"Finally! It's about time." Not wasting a moment, Cyrus hugged the window, then gasped at the sight.

There it was. Ahead in an open field stood an enormous manor crafted from dark wood and sturdy stone, surrounded by a sea of white lilies. It was as if nature grew the building on its own rather than man's intervention. And on its dark wood and gray stone was the encroachment of red vines and foliage, unlike anything Cyrus had ever seen.

But that was not all. It overlooked a vibrant city built with Victorian architecture—ornate and brick-made buildings and narrow streets. The dim lighting made it difficult to enjoy the sight properly, but what Cyrus did take in took his breath away. Covered in flowers and foliage, it was as if nature had claimed ownership of the city, dyeing it in a world of colors—at least if one were to ignore the bellowing smoke stacks and gleaming night lights.

Beautiful. What else could Cyrus say?

Soon, the coach slowed to a crawl until stopping before the sea of lilies.

"It's time," Orionis said, reaching for the handle.

Now that the moment had come, Cyrus could not help but feel nervous about the situation. Muscles taut, he slowly stepped off and examined the manor, finding no path through the sea of white.

"Are we supposed to wade throu—" Cyrus froze as an entire row of flowers, as if on legs, moved to the side, revealing a cobblestone path.

Speechless, Cyrus barely registered when Orionis stepped forward, only to sigh in the end.

Magic.

With the guardsmen in tow, Cyrus and Orionis reached the stony entrance steps. As Orionis knocked on the door, Cyrus couldn't resist looking back at the path they had traversed. And it was gone, vanished as if it never existed.

How does that work? Cyrus looked for signs of the supernatural but found none.

But these questions dashed at the sound of the door opening. Before the group stood, a pale-skinned butler donned a formal suit. He carried himself with a quiet strength. Tall and broad-shouldered he—he looked exactly like an older, graying Orionis.

"Officer Leal." The butler remained professional, pressing a hand on the white lilie in his breast pocket. "I trust there were no problems on the escort?"

Orionis mimicked the butler's demeanor and actions. "Yes, Butler Leal. There were no incidents."

Despite the surreal conversation, Cyrus could weirdly feel a warm familial connection between the two. It was in the eyes.

Butler Leal then turned his attention to Cyrus. His gaze trailed onto Cyrus' long and messy hair and beard before moving on to his torn clothing.

"Clear Skies, Cyrus Wade," Butler Leal began, bowing his head. His Lordship will be pleased you made it here unharmed." —His gaze momentarily flickered between Cyrus and Orionis— "Although, I had hoped Officer Leal would have prepared you for the visit." Cyrus instinctively ran a hand through his hair while Orionis slightly flinched from the jab. "In any case, follow me."

Once inside, Cyrus couldn't help but marvel at the interior. And while it lacked the garish opulence he expected from a city lord, the beautiful knotwork carved into the flowered walls and dark furnishings more than made up for it.

Not bad. Cyrus looked around, nearly dropping his jaw. This Steward certainly has good taste.

"Come with me, Wade." Butler Leal led the group to the lobby's stairs. "Just Wade."

Cyrus glanced at Officer Orionis, who, in turn, silently nodded. With no other option, the former quickened his pace to keep up with Butler Leal. Forward they went. Through the beautifully decorated hallways and rounding a few corners, they kept moving until stopping, entering a well-furnished bedroom.

"Please use the restroom as you see fit," Butler Leal said, waiting beside the bathroom door. "There will be a fresh set of clothing on the bed. And should you require my help, I'll be waiting outside."

…

"I needed this," Cyrus longfully said, refreshed as he buttoned on a dress shirt. For the first time in months, he peered at a mirror's reflection. I fix up pretty well.

Gone was the disheveled appearance of a sun-kissed man clad in ruined, dirty outdoorsman gear, now replaced with a man almost fit for a ball. And if he could say so himself, he found himself pretty handsome. As long as one avoided staring directly into his eyes.

It seems like this Steward isn't hostile. He fixed his cuffs, noting the oak embroidery. Still, there's no reason not to expect the worst.

He stepped out of the bathroom and looked through the windows. And it was mesmerizing. Beyond were Avalorn's lights, shimmering like gems waiting for the right person to pluck them.

Yet Cyrus sighed. "I just want to skip this part and head straight into the city."

How else was he supposed to feel its roots and dirt from this manor? But hopefully, that would be for later.

With one last glance, Cyrus exited the room. Closing the door behind him, Cyrus blinked as he expected to meet the old butler waiting for him. Oh, how wrong he was. Instead, a woman was leaning on the hallway's white walls.

Her verdant eyes locked onto his, and she pulled back her long, cascading mahogany hair, showcasing her fair, oval face.

"Clear skies, Cyrus Wade." Her smile evoked the heartwarming feeling of being noticed by someone's crush. "I'm Dílis Lilie."

She was beautiful, and Cyrus nearly gasped at the sight of her—but not because of her looks, but because of what she wore.

Is she a member of his group? Cyrus' once-over was quick—more of a scan. There was that torch symbol again on her lapel. She was a member.

That outfit was nearly one-for-one in design to the corpse Cyrus had discovered a week ago. Save for adding some more superfluous brass buckles, oak tree knotwork embroidery, and the outfit's dark green color scheme.

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Dílis." Cyrus smiled, gesturing for a handshake. "Although I wished it was more... pleasant circumstances."

"If only it were so." She laughed, shaking his hand before turning to the hallway. "Father wished us for dinner instead of heading straight to your matter. Is that alright?"

A smile crossed Cyrus' lips, one that quite didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. Please lead the way."