I Havent Had WiFi For Like 4 Days So Its Hard To Post On Here Since I Can Only Use My Phone. Heres A

I haven’t had WiFi for like 4 days so it’s hard to post on here since I can only use my phone. Here’s a random tidbit about my world and noble stuff. (And a small fact about Kommodian-Common at the end)

(That I had to write from scratch on my phone since I can’t copy and paste from my pc)

Normally, nobles travel in unmarked carriages and with several armed guards. This is standard procedure for long trips through “unsecured” routes. However, for short (like, day or less would be considered short. In this instance, Hamelan to Roena) trips, on secured routes, they travel in carriages boasting the colors of their respective House.

Both times, they travel in nice, covered carriages. However, the long distance ones are much nicer than the short distance ones.

These carriages are much nicer than what the government transports adventurers on during the Advent Month, as those are more like the Skyrim prisoner carriage. lol

Lastly, Kommodian-Common, like Japanese (best example I can think of) has a symbol lettering system for its written language. However, unlike Japanese, the spoken language is pretty much just English.

Oki thats all for now, gn, im exhausted and have been writing for 5 hours, its 3am

😭

a little fun thing

I'm writing chapter fourteen right now, and I just really wanted to share two small bits I am particularly proud of. Both of these are massive spoilers so just in case anyone care's about that, i'll be putting them beneath the show more thingy! (One chapter to go!!!)

Pg. 323: Leln was gone, and with it, tens of thousands of innocent people.

That meant the child who had gone up to Arthur with stars in his eyes—the mayor who’d so graciously thanked them – the dwarven shopkeeper, Earlbarx who’d put up with their nonsense for days on end – and even the guild employees and adventurers…

They were all…?

Pg. 325: “Eirairr Eirainn,” Caeruleus hushed. “All beings must face death. It is how they do it which sets them apart.”

^ I am in LOVE with this quote. I seriously think its one of the best sentences i've written in the entire book and im soooo proud of it

that's all for now! thanks for stopping by and reading this :D

I just finished my book.

It's done. It is currently 1:33 AM. It has been five years.

Three hundred and forty one pages. 210,871 words.

I expected I'd cry and sob and feel something, but instead I just feel empty. I feel nothing. I thought I'd feel some sort of profound pride, but instead, while I did cry writing the end, I just… feel nothing. I don't know why.

I think I feel worse now than I ever have before. Like seriously, now what? My book has been my only reason for living, the one thing fueling my will to keep going for the last two years. That's when it saw the biggest changes and became something I really SHOULD be proud of, and to an extent, at least sometimes, I am. I don't know how I feel right now.

I've been listening to Tentou on repeat for like the last forty minutes as I finished up the last chapter, which I'm worried is far too short. (at 6 pages in microsoft word, but it sorta serves as more of an epilogue than a real chapter imo)

I don't know how to feel or what to feel.

Five years... My book is done. it just doesn't even feel real to me. Or right to say those words. All that's left is the final wave of polishing, and then I'm done for real. Genuinely surreal I ever made it to this point. I have no idea what's next.

I guess that means this tumblr blog is at it's end. I did indeed fail to really create a community, which is a shame. To the few people following me, thanks for reading some of my posts and sharing this journey. Let's hope I can do better on the publishing and "succeeding as an author so I can actually be happy with my life" than I did with a "generate a community on tumblr so I can see if people like my book"

Farewell for now.

Uh...

nobody says that.

nobody uses "ejaculated" as a fucking way to say that

look how fucking bad it looks if i use that in my writing, like heres an example lmao

“Wait.” Eirairr ejaculated, his voice dead serious.

bruh

*zelda chest sound* You got: Exposition! (#1)

I may be unable to promise an actual schedule for posting due to several factors, but I can promise this!

The original intent of this blog, I think, was to post exposition. Things that I really cant find the "right" place for in my novel.

Like...

Exposition that feels out of place, that i can't feasibly stick in my book because I HATE having the people in my book randomly start thinking about something like this for an excuse to expo-dump the reader. It's stupid, unrealistic, and poor writing imo. It's unfortunate because stuff like this gets shoved under the rug and never comes out, so onto my tumblr it goes because I can't see a way to integrate this naturally.

Here we go!

color coded random words for fun idk (kommodia related: blue, goblins: green, common: red, dawn of creation: orange) no real reason, just wanted to spruce it up xd

deleted from: pg. 297 (im really proud of this one and didnt want it to just go to waste, finally put to words something i've known about this world for a while!)

All living beings capable of speech had been granted the gift of a common tongue—an ingrained language to facilitate communication between species, it was a “muscle” like any other. Disuse would lead to atrophy and loss. For that same reason, goblins (for this and a few other key reasons relating to Sargantas which I believe I covered in a older post) could no longer speak in any language other than their racial tongue, and races foreign to Kommodia often had trouble speaking the tongue, as all races in the world had their “native” tongue, with what later became known as “Kommodian-Common” being a secondary language for them. In essence, Kommodian culture expanded in ways outside of language, for the most part. While the “common-tongue” of the modern day had changed drastically since the dawn of creation, only Kommodia held it as its one and only native language.

TLDR/Alternate Explanation: Kommodia’s language is the one given to everyone at birth. Common. It’s (it evolved to become) a bit of a slight variation on “common” so it becomes Kommodian-Common. (I guess like how American-English and British-English are a thing, except with a few more differences i'd guess)

All races, i.e the Katanese/Katani(?) (Kitani??? TATSUYA KITANI????) Catfolk speaking Katanese in Katan, the Dwarves with Dwarvish, Elves with Elvish, Orcs with Orcish, Gnomes, Halflings, and the other “smallfolk” with their “Halfspeak”, a term either affectionate or extremely offensive depending on who you asked, all races had their own language. But not humans. Humans had “common.” While that “common” might variate depending on where you were in the world, Kommodia only had Common. And if you don’t use it, you will eventually lose it fully. This catfolk is very old, so remembering how to use “common” and equate what HE knows to modern day Kommodian-Common, it’s like trying to remember lost memories in a way.

super long and random excerpt time #1

I'm still editing my book, only on page 18 of 346 or so, and I was editing the scene that foreshadows this, and decided to revisit this to see it, and im just really proud of it and i really love it, and wanted to share it cuz i know theres a few people on my tumblr who wanted to see more of my writing. Here is one of the scenes i am most proud of :D

(spoilers, obv, for the end of the first half of the book. this takes place around page 130-136 i believe)

(btw i wasnt lying this is a pretty long excerpt xd)

The formatting is a little messed up but eh

lastly, idk if any of this will end up changed in final release, i went over this relatively recently so probably not drastically, but maybe a few wordings here and there. anyways thats all from me for now

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Taka’s worst scenario had come true. The further they trekked through the cave, the more death and destruction they uncovered. Mangled and broken bodies of goblins, blood and the stench of death. Five dead adventurers, after the elf. The party sent in had been completely, utterly destroyed. Before long, they came across a large, open space. It was the largest room in the entire cave. It must have been at least two hundred feet long and seventy or eighty wide. The ceiling above them was about a hundred feet tall, and there were many large, jagged rocks jutting down at odd angles. If not for the wide, gaping hole in the side of the cave exposing it to the outside, it would have been almost completely dark.

It was because of this hole that Taka’s heart dropped into his stomach and his breath caught in his throat.

Before them, was an ogre.

Fifty or so feet, in the center of the room. It currently had not noticed them.

Taka could feel his hands trembling. If there was an ogre, shouldn’t there be more goblins, too?

He had nothing to base that off of, but.. where were the goblins? Why was an ogre here?

It wasn’t an ordinary sized ogre either. It was huge for an ogre, as if two or three had been stacked atop each other. It didn’t even make sense. How had it gotten into this room?! The only way Taka could think was if it had grown larger once inside, but…

Nobody spoke. Everyone was utterly taken aback.

It was odd. What had killed the adventurers then? Surely, if they had all fallen, there were more goblins. They hadn’t even died in this room, so where were the goblins that killed them? This ogre was far too big to chase them through corridors, and the cave was still structurally sound, and hadn’t collapsed. So that couldn’t have killed them. Obviously.

Suddenly, the ogre twitched, and stood up. Could it see them? The six took a cautious step back, and Beriyl tripped and fell onto his rear.

“Ah-!”

That did it. The ogre roared, and produced a large club made of bone. Almost as if on cue, goblins began to swarm from the ceiling, walls, everywhere. In that one moment, everything that was alive had pinpointed their location.

It made sense now. Taka understood now. This was how the others had died.

They had walked right into a trap. Had the ogre known they were here all along? Had the other adventurers did the same thing they did? Were they going to die? Taka did not want to die.

He did not want to die. He did not want to die. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die.

His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He couldn’t breathe. The room around him began to close in.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He fell onto his knees clutching at his chest. The world spun. Through the chaos of his mind he could hear the others yelling. What were they yelling? He felt a hand on his back. Ecirr? No.. Qlul? A warmth spread through him. The pounding subsided. The world began to settle. The cave appeared normal, again. He could breathe.

He could hear.

“You’re going to be okay, Taka! We’ll get through this!”

Pulling Taka to his feet, was Qlul. He had cast something; his mace shone a brilliant white-gold.

“Everyone! Raise your weapons into the air for just a moment!” He cried. Everyone who had one, did. Taka’s daggers began to glow just like Qlul’s. In immediate succession, the party was aglow with a holy light. Arthur’s blade, Ecirr’s spears, and Beriyl’s shortsword all glowed with that same light.

Taka looked up at the ceiling, and almost immediately fell back into a panic. The ceiling, the walls, were crawling with goblins. Literally teeming. Out of every hole in every wall, every crevice came goblins. Red, gleaming eyes. Like an activated crystal… Wait a second. Something clicked in Taka’s head, but he wasn’t fast enough to voice it. But.. couldn’t they just blow them up with a fire crystal? Or would one not be enough?

Everyone formed a circle, their backs to each other.

“Arthur?! Hope you’ve got a plan for this!” Ecirr shouted, eyes skittering about the cave.

“Beriyl, can you create dust with your magic?!”

“Wh- what!? I- I suppose, but I’ve never-“

“Then do it! Fill this entire room with dust, make it combustible!”

Beriyl looked bewildered, but slapped his hands together, then held his palms outstretched.

Combustible… The sound of arrows being loosed through the air made it almost hard to concentrate. He envisioned dust falling, then exploding. Dust that can explode…

He tried his best to imagine that as he channeled an immense amount of his remaining mana through his body and into his palms, and then…

“I do not know about combustible, but; Create Dust!”

A billowing, great cloud of blue, sparkling dust began to fall from the cave ceiling, causing several goblins clambering high up on the ceiling and walls to rub at their eyes, lose their grip and fall to their deaths. Even the ogre frantically swiped at its eyes, irritated severely by the dust as it began to hack and sneeze. The cave rumbled as it stomped about, and the rest of the horde paused in relative confusion, staring with almost childlike faces at the falling irritant.

It wouldn’t be enough, and Beriyl knew this. He placed his hands together, preparing to manipulate it into the spell Duststorm, but was interrupted by Arthur’s shout; “Retreat! Back into the tunnel!”

“No!” Beriyl cried. “Hold on! Listen to me, I will turn it into a Duststorm, it’ll buy us more time!”

“All right! Do it, Beriyl!”

Placing all his hands together, he focused his intent on the falling particles, imagining them as a violent whirlpool. To help himself visualize, he spun his hands about as if he were spinning a heavy ball, his movements quickening into a blur. It wasn’t necessarily difficult; he just needed to control the mana exuded by the particles, manipulate it with a defined intent, then activate the new spell. When he had it, he clenched his fists to help himself finalize it, as a brutal wind kicked up around them, pushing dust around the room.

“Duststorm!”

The clouds of dust quickened into buffeting waves accompanied by brutal winds that had no place inside a cave.

“Agh!” Taka coughed, rushing to cover his mouth and eyes. “Retreat!”

The six raced frantically out of the room, back into the hall-like area of the cave they’d come from. Taka gasped for breath, hacking out dust. Glancing over his shoulder, he could imagine the goblins were having a far worse time. If this was the whole plan, that didn’t seem so bad. The ogre couldn’t reach them in here, and most of the goblins that were on the ceiling would likely fall to their death. The ones who didn’t would hopefully be sucked into the vortex of the spell and dashed against the walls.

“What exactly is this plan of yours, Arthur?” Beriyl exasperatedly asked, his face drawn.

“We’re going to blow them up.”

At that, the half-elf’s eyes widened.

“That’s remarkably intelligent for someone like you. And here I was thinking you meant to burn them all to death, or some other such thing…”

Arthur shook his head.

“That would have to be accomplished another way, so no, that was not the plan.”

Beriyl seemed to have calmed down a considerable amount—perhaps he was feeling secure in his spells ability to hold back the murderous monsters inhabiting the room they’d left behind.

“Beriyl, I don’t think that’s really…” Qlul tried to chide but was silenced by Ecirr placing a hand on his shoulder. “Leave it,” the gesture seemed to say.

Arthur turned to face Eirairr. His ears were lowered, the tips trembling slightly.

“Eirairr. I have a pitcher of oil in my bag. I’m going to throw it into that room, and you’re going to shoot it out of the air. We’ll place a fire crystal inside. If we time it right, the oil will coat the dust, and the crystal will hit the ground, which should activate it. Then, Beriyl, you will cast your Shield spell to seal us into this corridor, and… if it all goes well, we’ll have killed everything in there.”

“Got it, Arthur.”

“I have just enough mana to do that,” Beriyl muttered. “But this’ll be the last of it. Casting that Dust spell over such a wide area really drained me.”

“This will be it, Beriyl. I promise.”

The half-elf did not offer a reply, instead wordlessly closing his eyes and collecting himself.

Arthur fetched the cruet of oil from his bag, then turned his attention back to the group.

“Do any of you have a fire crystal?”

“Yeah, here.” Qlul produced one from a pouch on his belt, then pressed it into his palm. Arthur closed his fist around it.

“All right.”

He opened the lid of the container, dropping the crystal inside with a nod. Plomp, it splashed. Then, he closed it back up.

“Beriyl, how long will your spell last?”

“I don’t know. Five more minutes, maybe.”

Arthur headed back toward the room full of goblins. With the Duststorm spell raging about, it was nigh impossible to see much of anything at all, and actually getting inside the room meant you risked getting thrown around by the violent winds.

“Beriyl. Eirairr. Ready?”

“As ever.” With a deep breath, Beriyl rose his hands.

“I’m ready.” Standing to the side, Eirairr drew his bow and nocked an arrow.

With a bellowing shout, Arthur launched the cruet into the room with all his strength behind the throw.

“Eirairr!”

With a telltale twang, the arrow soared through the air before piercing straight through the ceramic, splitting it in two. Just as planned. Oil was sent spraying out in all directions, the red glare of a fire crystal splitting through the blinding veil.

Nervously, Ecirr and Qlul joined their hands together, clenched tight.

His legs tucked beneath him, Taka watched in abject fear as the decisive moment arrived, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.

‘I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. What if it fails? What if… Beriyl’s going to be out of mana. We’ve killed a few of them already, but there’s no way we can fight an ogre, can we…? Maybe Arthur could, but… I don’t- I’m so scared. Please work. Please work.’

It was a good thing he wasn’t the one in charge of casting the spell that would safeguard them against the blast.

“Beriyl! Everyone, cover your ears!”

This was it— The last of his mana. This had to work.

Or they would all suffer for it.

Kneeling down, he slammed his hands against the ground.

“S- Shiiiiieeeeeld!”

A huge, ethereal shield sprang up from a middling point in the air and rapidly sealed off the entryway. Staring grimly into the maelstrom of dust, Beriyl braced himself.

Taka covered his ears, but when nothing happened, he uncovered them, keeping them close to his head just in case, and peered curiously down the hall.

...

Deep in the center of the room, likely spurled about by the wuthering winds, the crystal cracked. A brilliant, blinding flash of ruby light escaped through, and then it shattered.

Not a second later, the room exploded. A deafening crack like a mountain being shorn in two sent all who survived the blast reeling to the floor and clutching tightly at their ears. Thespell may have protected them from the shockwave and heat, but it could not defend them from the roar of death’s jaws.

As the chaos subsided and the dust settled, the Shield spell cracked and splintered apart before it finally fell away, dissolving into nothingness. The room before them was decorated by blown apart bodies, shards of bone, and crimson gore.

Nothing had survived.

At least, at first glance it had seemed that way.

Pitiful whimpers and cries punctuated a deafening silence louder than the explosion that prefaced it. At the far end of the room was the ogre, now dying. He clutched weakly at what remained of his face and tried to stand, but only fell over as all that remained of his legs were bleeding stumps. Blindly, he swiped at the air, cursing violently in the goblin tongue.

The plan had worked. Taka tried to stand up, but ended up collapsing instead. He tried to talk, but it was like he was hearing himself through a tin can. His voice was all muffled. His ears throbbed with a dull pain, and when he touched them, his hands came away wet with blood. Immediately, Taka vomited up the contents of his stomach onto the cave floor.

“Oh shit. Oh, shit. M- my ears are bleeding, my… Oh my Gods. What the fuck.”

The ringing became so loud, so encompassing and sickening, he couldn’t hear. His head hurt. His ears were ringing, so, so loud. His stomach hurt. A horrible wave of nausea washed over him, and he threw up again.

He couldn’t hear. But he could feel his heart.

‘I’m gonna have a fucking panic attack, what the hells is wrong with me? Oh my Gods, oh, I don’t, I can’t…’

He curled inward on himself, trying to escape the overwhelming flood of emotion.

Everything.

Everything was stressing him out. He could barely breathe. He couldn’t hear. The goblins were dead. The ogre was dying.

“My ears… My… my… my… Q- Qlul, p- please help me. Please..”

He was on the literal verge of tears. Something deep within him, something primal had taken hold of his heart and refused to let go. He couldn’t hear, and that terrified him.

Suddenly, he felt two warm hands grip his shoulders tightly. When he looked up, his hair disheveled, his face a terrified mess of tears and snot, he found himself looking into familiar blue eyes, a familiar, warm smile.

Qlul.

He felt a gradual wave of warmth travel through his body and wash over him. His ears slowly stopped ringing, his nausea faded. Voices faded in and he found he could hear again. He no longer felt deathly ill, he no longer felt so panicked. His heartrate began to calm, and then he threw himself into the birdfolk’s arms.

“T- thank you, Qlul… Gods, thank you.”

“Of course, Taka.”

Releasing all of his pent-up emotion at once, Beriyl fell to his knees, huffing a shuddering sigh of relief and anxiety. His own ears were ringing a fair bit, but nowhere near as bad as Taka’s had been.

“Gods. Gods.”

Arthur, on the other hand, paid no attention to anyone in the room. He simply drew his longsword, striding purposefully down the tunnel and into the wide, blackened room.

After seeing to the rest of their party members, Qlul simply sat with Taka, and held his hand for a time, while Ecirr and Eirairr headed down to check the final room with Arthur. Beriyl sat alone, murmuring to himself and staring into his palms while occasionally clenching his fist.

#

When Arthur returned, the raven-feathered birdfolk and blond elf in tow, he had just finished wiping the blood from his blade and was in the process of sheathing it as he coldly said; “Let’s go.”

There was a hint of something dark playing on his face, but Taka was too exhausted to think much about it. They’d all been through so much in just a few short hours. This on top of the earlier job had taken all the wind out of his proverbial sails.

So instead, he didn’t think about it. He just quietly, tiredly staggered back the way they came, with Arthur heading their formation as usual. The walk back was more grueling than before, but at least it was over. At least Leln was safe. At least they had survived.

Despite telling himself those truths, Taka couldn’t bring himself to feel any measure of pride. He’d done nothing. When push had come to shove, he’d shut down and freaked out. He’d been entirely worthless. Worse than that, he’d just been a liability.

Despite everything, he hadn’t changed at all.

At the thought, he felt bitter and stinging tears well up, but they stubbornly refused to spill over.

‘Dane would be so disappointed in me. I bet if he knew this was how I reacted to situations like this, he’d hate me. He’d think I’m a loser and tell me he doesn’t care about me anymore, or something. I don’t know why Arthur keeps me around. I can’t do anything. I’ve proven that I’m useless, utterly worthless practically every time something like this happens. I should just…’

Taka shook his head weakly.

‘Just shut up. Just shut the hells up… I’m so gods damned tired.’

When they finally made it back outside the cave, Taka immediately collapsed to the ground and hugged his knees, sucking in a weary breath.

‘I’m just so done…’

Qlul stopped with him, bending down to comfort him by patting his back.

“W- where is he? Where is Edward? Where is my grandson?” An elderly voice cried. In front of the mouth to the cave, a small number of townsfolk had gathered, including the mayor. All wore worried or frightened expressions, although as they watched the six exit the cave, some of them softened into relieved smiles.

Arthur stopped and met her gaze. Her face was long with stress and etched with age, her voice unsteady as her legs.

“The party that entered before us was destroyed.”

Her heart broke—you could see it in her face. Her eyes widened as she took on a look of abject sorrow, before she collapsed to the ground in a fit of sobs and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, oh…. Oh Gods, Edward…”

Behind her, a visibly exhausted young man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Come, Ms. Éclair…”

Deciding now was the best time for him to say his bit, a boy — no older than twelve — hesitantly stepped up from the crowd.

“U- um… we’re glad your safe, er… Thank you for saving us!”

“Yes—thank you.” Another, a tall man with an axe over his shoulder added. “We were just about to send a rescue party after you, and you’re the rescue party…”

It was a terrible, failure of an attempt at humor. Nobody laughed. Arthur only stared at the man, then nodded.

“Ahem…”

In the wake of this awkward exchange, a familiar halfling approached. It was the mayor himself—Duley Bettencourt.

“On behalf of Leln, I-“

“What is the situation?”

Bettencourt blinked at the bluntness of Arthur’s interruption.

“Er- I… Yes.” He pushed up his circular glasses.

“We have utilized a sizeable number of Leln’s guard to ensure all goblin corpses will be removed from the streets and burned. We don’t want those to get in the hands of any unsavory individuals like that damn Twistwire… The last thing we need is a necromancer raising goblin skeletons and having those run amock. Well, that man’s many things, but I doubt he’s a… Anyway, er… We will see to it that the eight who fell today receive a proper burial.”

Then he shook his head and pointed angrily up at Arthur.

“Don’t you think if I had other places to be, that I’d be there? I wouldn’t be here talking to you if the town were still under attack and its people being killed!” With a haughty huff, he added; “I assure you; we have it well under control now.”

Less than ten people had died in the raid. But that was still ten, real people, each with their own hopes and dreams. They had been living just a few short hours ago, and now they were gone.

Leln had no church that provided resurrection services, and it was unlikely any of the adventurers in town had access to such high-level magic. In fact, probably less than five people on the continent had enough mana to cast a resurrection spell singlehandedly. That meant there was almost no chance anyone who died would be brought back. They were gone forever.

That thought alone was hard to process.

Arthur only nodded.

“I see.”

Then he turned back, fixating this time on a certain jet-haired half-elf; Beriyl.

“Well done, Beriyl. You did well.”

Beriyl’s face upturned in a smug grin.

“Well, of course I did! Hmph, I am Beriyl Edmund Ciphre von Aschwaz, after all! What would you do without me?”

‘…Of course he wouldn’t thank me. I didn’t do anything worth being thanked for. Yeah, I almost got us all killed, so… Why are you surprised? Just shut up, Taka… Worthless, useless idiot.’

Qlul must have sensed Taka falling deeper into his negative spiral, because he moved his hand to rest atop his shoulder and gently said; “It’ll be okay, Taka.”

Taka unburied his face and looked at him, on the verge of tears once again.

“Will it? I did nothing, I…”

He sighed, and shoved his face back into his knees, swearing under his breath and trying to not cry. Just for once.

‘Just cry later. Just cry in your room. Just cry later. Just stop. Just stop.’

“You’re alive, and so am I. That’s enough, isn’t it? As long as you’re alive, you can continue to learn and grow. You’ll become stronger. Don’t worry.”

When he met his gaze again, Qlul had taken on an uncharacteristically somber expression. Self-doubt flickered in his eyes.

The loss of the dwarf Twistwire came to mind. He had failed to save him.

He was a healer, yet in that singular dire moment when someone needed him most, he had panicked and failed. Twistwire had died because of that. It was like a fresh wound festering in his heart, needling at his very soul.

But the words he’d said had truth to them, and Taka took that to heart.

He was always hard on himself, even when nobody was mad at him.

This time around, he was mad at himself, but that didn’t really count…

Qlul was right. He would learn and grow, he would change. He had to put in the effort, but he could become stronger. He could become like Arthur. Or like Beriyl, even.

…

On second thought, he didn’t think he wanted to become like Beriyl. Beriyl was annoying, brattish, and…

But when it came down to it, Beriyl had been the backbone of Arthur’s plan. For all intents and purposes, it was due to him being there, that they were all alive right now.

‘I still don’t want to be like Beriyl… but I want to be like Arthur. I want to be capable; I want… I want Dane to be proud of me. And I want to be proud of myself.’

Taka forced himself to speak and push past his conflicting emotions. He’d just think about it later. He always overthought everything.

“Yeah… you’re right, Qlul.”

Even if he didn’t truly believe those words, he’d make himself believe them in time. He had to.

Bettencourt didn’t seem to appreciate Arthur repeatedly changing his focus to other people, and so he loudly cleared his throat; “A-hem!”

“Yes?” Arthur went, turning back to peer down at the mayor.

“This is hardly the place to have such a conversation, so I would ask you to follow me back to my office. I would discuss a reward for your efforts.”

“We have things to tell you, too.” Ecirr added, stepping forward.

“All the more reason for us to change locale, then! Follow me, if you would, gentlemen…” Qlul rose, pulling Taka to his feet with him.

“Come on, Taka.”

By now, most of the crowd had dispersed. The only who remained was the old woman and the young man, presumably her caretaker.

As they passed by, Qlul laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured; “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Those words only made her cry harder.

Taka averted his eyes, unable to look. At the last minute, he gave his harried condolences in passing.

Eirairr, however, in typical Eirairr-fashion seemed to be bursting at the seams with energy at the weirdest of times. Being the last to say anything, he shouted “Sorry!” in a very inappropriately happy tone like he was playing a game, or something.

That earned him more than a few weird stares, plus a glare from the woman’s caretaker.

To that, he just pouted and looked away.

Just like a child.

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"The moment I can change myself, and even the world; It's always by my side."

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