Brian
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***Ramul Ta Travel Guide Special Edition - Eleanor's Middle Mentia Journal***
 
```Renowned as the land where wind blows, Middle Mentia was once a place of tranquil and idyllic nature. Its landscape is lush and green, rolling hills take turns with high and steep cliffs. Along the plains and plateau, numbers of settlements stood far and wide composed by half-timbered houses and windmills.
 
The skirmishes and conflicts, stemming from claims of the true crowns, had shifted its atmosphere. Alongside the threats of beastkins, tensions are strewn about all borders of the country. Although, the land and people within itself remained to enjoy a relative peace. Hums of both jolly and ephemeral nature floats along the breeze, caressing beds of Dandelion and Anemone flowers. They are exceedingly common in the region.
 
As such, one who refers to themselves as a prim and proper traveller shouldn't miss the joy of seeing this land with their own eyes. From the legacy of the ever-so-famous Knights of Firmament, to the exquisite traditional wines and ciders that I, personally find as endearing.. A local phrase might well describe what Middle Mentia is all about.
 
Mea libertas meus canor-```

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"-My freedom is my song."
 
*A hoarse voice said, interrupting your thoughts. Until a second ago, it was focused on an edition of a magazine published for the public by the adventurer guild. Incidentally, this special issue included a short travelling journal of Eleanor Rosmontis, the travelling merchant. One of them covers her experiences in Middle Mentia. It is the land which the double drawn horses wagon that carries you along is currently marching in.*
 
"That's pretty much what the people of Middle Mentia like to say to tourists to sound fancy. Bah, freedom this, freedom that. It's true that them–" *The source of the voice, a middle-aged coachman of this wagon, pointed towards a castle on the East. It was a fort which you had just passed a few minutes ago, known as the **Quednupaz Castle**. Even at this distance, its banner of four dragons can be seen clearly under the midday sun.*
 
"–the knights always keep both the nobles and the ruler in check. But too much freedom would only dim your wit, make you lax, and no jobs can get done. Not that I hate them, no, no. Everyone should have freedom. But bollocks, respectfully sire, bollocks. I have a cousin-in-law who moved here. And by god, the next thing I know he was singing his damn song and poetry all day, bottle in one hand. They need more discipline I say! When I was his age-"

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*The coachmen continue to talk in the background. As you observed your surrounding, the first thing that most likely will catch your eye would be the tall, rocky edges of the **Stormjaw Gorge**. The valley is enclosed by the mountains which trails from both north and south, forming a natural border for Middle and East Mentia.*
 
*The goods wagon of a small caravan which you are currently hitchhiking in rocked lightly, following along on its rearmost. In conjunction with the steady pace of the horses, birches and fir trees seemed to move along in the opposite direction. Some parts of the plains show a sign of deforestation, albeit not too heavily.*
 
*In the distance, dozens of miles in front of you, you can see the **City of Voznupaz**. Built on a flat plateau, its walls are surrounded by intersections of rivers. As expected, large windmills seemingly also stood tall within the city. They spun calmly alongside the easy gust. It sways a few mint and anemone flower beds nearby, revealing a small figure of a white rabbit. Its floppy ears stood as it hopped left and right behind the wagon's tail.*
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"En passant, sire." *The coachmen chimed, seemingly finished with his little story. He twirled his long moustache.*
 
"I haven't had the chance to ask when you asked for a ride, but what brings you to this place? We are certainly happy because you offered to protect our caravan in exchange, but you seemed to be... Highly overqualified to be a simple sellsword. I might sound arrogant, but I'm quite confident in judging someone's capability." *He laughed heartily.*
David
At the back of the wagon, the flame-bearded Siuian reclining on the left side of the wagon bed in a cross-legged position chuckled in good-humor, left hand idly picking at at the tail light-brown chaperon, while his right hand pressed a closed manuscript into his black-robed lap.

His crimson eyes turned to the coachman, before he spoke cheerily. 

"Well, my good man, you have sharp eyes indeed! Of course, I wouldn't dare call myself highly overqualified- not when I've actually had a middling career as a sellsword, but-"

Leaning in, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper.
"An old Freefencing friend of mine has invited me to Shaslandi to give instruction as a master!"
Brian
"Aah, the Freefencer of Saint Brandr?" *The coachman turned his head to look towards the road once again.*
 
"Yes, yes, glorious bands of heroes and adventurers, they are. I wouldn't fancy myself as a duelist, but I know a thing or two about fencing, you see. Though, my eyes are far more steady on the betting board."
 
*He leaned his stocky body back in turn, creaking the wooden seat while speaking in the same secretive manner.*
 
"But a **Master**? Good jolly, my wagon has never been in the presence of someone so notorious. Hahaha! We can really be rest assured with Sire Fidres presence here."
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***Whooosh!!***
 
*A blur of white whizzed in front of their eyes in the spur of the moment as they both talked. It looks like something has jumped from the back of the open cart, entering the goods wagon like a zooming arrow from a distance. The silvery-white.. Thing hopped around chaotically, similar to a loose rubber ball. It knocked one of the expensive vases that sat on the corner.*
 
"What in the gods na-"
 
*The coachman's eyes widened as he witnessed that. Promptly, he jerked his torso backwards to catch the falling vase with his hands. Quite an impressive display, for him to be able to balance his legs to take rein in the place of his hands, considering his protruding, round belly.*
 
***Bonk!!!***

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"Ouch."
 
*A soft, feminime voice can be heard at the end of the commotion. It certainly doesn't belong to any of them. After he fixed the position of the vase, the coachmen's eyes gazed warily on what was currently lying on the floor. He retakes the reins with one of his hands, but almost his entire body is turned to see what is happening inside the wagon.*
 
"What devilry is this!?"
 
*On the wagon's floor, lies what looked like a rabbit. It rubbed its head, covered in white fur as the rest of its body. It looks like its head has bumped into one of the cargo boxes as it hopped around earlier. After shaking away the dizziness, it hopped once again to the wagon bed, across the side where the Fencer is sitting.*
 
"Which one of you is Master Kohm Fidres?" *The rabbit says as if it was the most natural thing in the world, ignoring what had just happened.*
David
"Well, notorious isn't quite the right word for it, and I can't say that I'm deserving of the acclaim attached to the title... But I'll do my best if it comes down to it!"

The man pulled his head back slowly, turning a sedate gaze unto the rolling hills of verdant green. 

"A thing or two about fencing, eh? Well, I suppose even with the Knights keeping the roads safe, no one can't only rely on them and the grace of the gods to keep us safe. Hahah! Now, betting board, eh? What do you like to hedge your bets up-"

"Ugh, that would be me, young... Rabbit?"

The now named Kohm Fidres groaned as picked his back from the edge of the wagon bed with his right hand, having collided stiffy with the wood due to the sudden commotion the rabbit had wrought.

"Bah, my back. And I was having such a fine time too." 

Groaning as he sat himself upright, tensing his back muscles to ease pain, he then placed his full attention on the rabbit with an slightly irate expression as he crossed his arms.

"You could stand to be a bit more subtle with your approach, instead of stirring up such a racket. Any more and I would have thought it an hostile action. Anyway, what is it?"

Squinting at the rabbit as he leaned in, he continued with a mutter.

"Hmmph. A courier, I presume?"

A skilled one, at that. Transformation magic and the ability to intercept a caravan mid-route were priced skills in the business. 

What manner of mail required the services of such an individual to reach him in a timely manner? Curious.

"Well, if that's the case what do you have to offer?"
Brian
"Courier you say?" *The coachmen said in disbelief. He can no longer look behind though, as he needs to keep the wagon's track stable after that commotion.*
 
"Correct. But jumping spells are hard to control in this form, you see."
 
*With a puff, the figure of the rabbit is briefly shrouded in white smokescreen, like those used by wandering magicians. Ahem, tricks magician.*
David
"Let's see.."
 
*In its place, a figure of a young woman appeared, sitting on the wagon bed. She has an innocent– or rather, an oblivious and expressionless face. Completely ignoring the irritation displayed by both of the men, she focused on finding the delivery inside her mail bag.*
 
"A parcel from 'a friend' with an attached letter, they requested express delivery. And another, from Voznupaz, by the name of Sir Otto Randel."
 
*She handed both of the letter and the parcel to Kohm.*
 
*The first letter is written on a high-grade parchment. The handwriting is very elegant and ladylike, and one would catch the lovely whiff as they open the perfumed paper. The parcel itself is a small decorated chest, seemingly quite expensive. The content is as follow:*

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```Master Kohm Fidres,
 
Your recent return has not gone unnoticed. I wholeheartedly happy for your timely recovery.
 
I hope that this land, Middle Mentia, will treat you well. In the right heart, I believe so.
 
A humble present that I created myself, a token of welcoming is attached. I pray that it may be of help, and that you find it to your liking.
 
I hope that the day when we can finally meet once again will arrive soon.
 
Sincerely,
 
A friend.```
 
*The second letter is also written on a good quality parchment, albeit more rugged than the first one. The handwriting consists of strong and rigid lines, speaking much of the sender's characters. The content as follow:*
 
```Old Friend,
 
I thought that you kicked the bucket off somewhere, but as expected, you won't go down that easily huh?
 
I heard from the other old bastards that you decided to return to the guild. Bah, put those wankers aside and visit Voznupaz for a drink with your best buddy first, aye?
 
As you might have known, I ran a little school here. Drilling the younguns, trying to prevent them from running headfirst to a wurm.
 
Might as well also add you into the fray of the teacher, if you're interested. None of that interview or whatnot.
 
Don't worry about finding me. I'd know it when you enter the city.
 
Sincerely,
 
Otto Randel```

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*The courier seemed to be in no hurry to leave. She fixed the position of her hat, as it was slightly tilted after she transformed earlier. It has ear flaps and white fur, the same colour with her long, straight hair. Called as an ushanka in foreign tongue, the headwear is, as expected, used to protect one from the cold.*
 
"...."
 
*She stares silently ahead at Kohm as he reads the letter. Her blue eyes twinkled from the radiance of midday sun, posing no particular expression.*
Brian
"Ye done, lass? Get off then." *The coachman grumbled.*
David
"A 'friend'...And old Otto, I suppose."

Kohm muttered to himself as he swiftly received the letters and parcel from the courier with one smooth motion, before laying it in front of him.

"Could it be something urgent?"

Picking up the first letter, his eyebrows immediately floated upwards, pushed by the scent of perfume drifting into his sinuses.

Tenatively, rough fingers unravelled the smooth parchment, before fiery eyes laid upon the dainty cursive.

With each second passed and every line finished, the further his eyebrows rose, until they seemed to touch his skyline, like red clouds at dawn.

Gingerly, he then closed the letter, having internalised every single heartfelt word, then-

"Do I know this person?"

He murmured to himself, eyebrows knotted in deep concentration as he embarked through his hall of memories in search for an answer, that he, for the life of him, could not narrow down in any nook or cranny.

His memory wasn't all that bad, he figured- he was old, sure, but nowhere enough where age would be such a pressing concern.

Yet, while a sense of familiarity did indeed pervade the whole letter from the moment he picked it up, no specifics came to mind throughout his perusal of it. 

And it did perplex him so, considering the person writing to him seemed to know him well enough to not even bother writing down their name, trusting that he would know immediately. 

As if they were the truest of friends, in fact.

Unfortunately, if he knew one, he was surely a sorely bad one. And thus, as he sat on the wagon, wracking his head, he felt a peculiar mixture of embarrassment and guilt rise in his chest.

Squashing his disconcertment for the time being, he laid down the letter with a carefully neutral expression, before moving on the next one.

The sturdy parchment crackled under his touch, only the simple, woody fragrance of fresh paper rising to his nostrils as the letter unfurled. 

The moment the crisp, strong-handed wording came into view, a smile rose to his face unbidden, and relief seemed to finally come to rescue his brow from the skies.

"Ah, old Otto. Never change, you bastard."

Shaking his head, he quickly skimmed through it with full confidence, practically knowing each proceeding line without actually reading it. 

If there was anyone he could call a true friend, it would be Otto. In fact, there was practically little need for the contents of the letter, which was almost a formality despite ironically being so informal- Otto could send a single word and he would still understand immediately what the joke was referencing.

Well, probably not literally. He would then be faced with the question of which of their many experiences and misadventures were actually being referenced, at least up until he ambushed Otto at their old drinking spot to interrogate him for the answer.

With that greeting done and settled, and his spirits considerably lifted after his brow was brought back to the earth, he was then left with only the main course to focus upon- namely, the pretty little box laid in front of him.

Frowning, trepidition returned in no small amount as he remembered that this was what his unknown 'friend' had gifted him. Taking a deep breath, he steadily raised the lacquered wood lid of the miniature chest, and peered in...

*The courier girl puts her mail bag comfortably on her side. She also peeked at Kohm, as he opened the chest with innocent curiosity. It seems that she really doesn't have any intention to make her way out.*

"I'll get down in the next city." *She replied coolly to the coachmen without looking.*

*The content of that decorated chest itself is revealed to be a certain tinkery. That itself should be obvious by intricate details of miniature cogs and other mechanisms she can't quite place the name of— hundreds in numbers, through the circular glass dial*

"That's a pretty watch." *The tone of her voice is flat, but her words seemed genuine.*

*The watch is a pocket watch. It has a silver plating decorated with Mentian-esque dragon engraving on its flap, and miniature crown on the fob. A chain is attached to allow it to be secured to a waistcoat, lapel, or belt loop.*

"Hmm.."

*The girl tilted her head. She recognizes the hand which would probably show the time of the day, but there are also other hands and engraving of numbers with a function that's hard to deduce simply by a glance. The thing gives her the impression that whoever puts them together should be a really smart person with exceptionally steady hands.*
Brian
*The coachman glanced briefly at the gift and nodded, also admiring the piece for a few seconds, before turning her head towards the girl with a frown in his face. He doesn't look too happy on the notion of carrying her along, but ultimately, he simply sighed and turned his attention back on the road.*

"Well, we have a spare room to use anyway. Don't make any more trouble."
David
"Oh, even if you look like one, you're surprisingly not a bad guy hm?"

*'Surprisingly', as the coachman really does look like the type of rich merchant that would give 1/10 of his piece of bread to a street orphan and would still grumble.*

*That or those who evade tax.*

*'Who looks like an evil but charming nobleman you brat?' He retorted in the background, replied by the delivery girl with 'I never said that.' As they bicker, Kohm would notice that if he inspected the watch closer, he would be able to tell that it runs on a magical crystal. That, and the fact that the very piece itself also functions as an arcane-enhancing amulet.*

Kohm blinked rapidly as he picked up the watch using his right hand, with an almost inperceptible tremble.

"By wyrm's ballsacks... This is no mere watch." He murmured, unconsciously answering Archisorte's question as he conscientiously rotated it to inspect the workings. 

And indeed, it was not. This work of artifice was no mere utilitarian thing by a common engineer- and even the lowiest of them were skilled in natural philosophy, for that was the basis of the craft. No, it was *Sui generis* - one of a kind, that is- an almost extravagant *Objet d'art* From the sheer spirit-like artisanry and machine-like craftsmanship poured into this object. 

The machining was precise to a hair's width, thousands of moving parts moving seamlessly without resistance while simultaneously, perhaps almost paradoxically, held together tightly. The crystal lattice an intricate, winding weave in perfect geometrical patterns, powering a myraid of features ranging from calendar to lunar clock to *Arcane foci*...

Even the more mundane aspects like the carvings were appreciable by any master artisan, much less a layperson. This was the sort of thing that even artists sponsored by nobility wouldn't be able to reliably come up with- it was a masterwork that surely required some thunderclap of inspiration.

In fact, countless artificers would surely be content if this were to be their magnum opus. And yet it was placed here. In front of him. As a mere gift. From a 'friend' who he didn't even know. 

Just like that.

"Hoooo..."

Letting a trail of air escape his windpipe, he cradled his forehead, feeling a headache from the weight of the gift set in. Even for an old fart like him, this was just way too much to take in for the moment.

Picking up the watch, he meticulously fit it into his wrist, his grip on it not loosening until it was perfecly in plce. A smidget of mana channeled, then-

The mechanism twirled and a crystal unfurled. From the bottom of the watch a segment popped with nought but the smooth turning of cogs, revealing a magical crystal that thrummed even with the experimental droplets of mana poured into it.

Kohm was now well and truly speechless, his eyes and mouth so open they were practically invitations for flies to roost.

"I... Lets see"

He turned his hand over, initiating a basic weave.

Smooth like butter, the pieces fell into place without requiring much input, as if the watch was practically doing all the work for him.

The miniature image of a swirling whirlpool quickly snapped into place upon his supinated left palm, every bit as real as it could be, were it not for the minor fact that it was ultimately an intangible illusion.

Then, it was dispelled just as quickly as it was formed. With just as much ease, if not more.

For his own part, Kohm was utterly absorbed by his watch, completely tuning out the otherwise amusing bickering between Archisorte and the coachman, or any reaction they might have had to his impromptu weave.

He was not mesmerised, mind, but the entirety of his conscious was certainly concentrating on the many unresolved questions that were brought up to mind by the mere existence of this object and the context under which it reached his hand.

*For the first time, the delivery girl widened her eyes as Kohm initiated a magical weave over the watch. Her lips opened slightly in awe, bringing herself to the edge of the seat to look at it closely. For one, she doesn't quite understand what he was doing as she is no connoisseur in arcane instruments. But nonetheless, it's still a fascinating display*

"So pretty.." *She muttered with a glimmering eyes.*

"What is that?"

*She tilted her head while staring at the watch itself. It is evident that it has a myriad of other functions, but there seems to be something more special contained— something beyond the realm of time-telling devices, and Kohm understood that.*

Kohm blinked, tilting his head toward Archisorte as her words brought him out of his contemplation with some amount of surprise.

Having been absorbed by the watch's workings, which being arcane in both senses of the word, had truly taken him in, his attention had been quite a distance away from the amusing back and forth that had been going on in the background. 

And thus as his consciousness was reeled back into reality, only now did his senses internalise her presence, having subconsciously assumed that she had left a while back, as most couriers logically would.

"Why are you..." Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but stare for a bit, before awkwardly, if inquisitively turning towards the coachman.

Regardless of the answer given, it seemed that he was not one to leave an earnest question hanging as he turned back, exhaling the barest of sighs.

"Well..." He started, his first instinct to underplay the value of the gift to avoid drawing attention- before realising in the proceeding second that the horse had long bolted.

Having scrutinized the watch for so long and even channeling magic through it in a public display, it was clear as day that it was no ordinary toy even to an abject fool, and he would himself be one if he tried to conceal it, which was more likely to draw suspicion if anything.

Letting his brow drift upward in relaxation, and pursing his lips slightly, he resigned himself.

"Well, its a watch. A remarkable work of artifice, given by a friend of mine." 

That he didn't know, aside from their own word, he wisely left out.

"Not only can it tell the time, it has a suite of other functions." He continued, making scarce any needless elaboration as to what those features were. 

Kohm then tapped the surface of the watch with emphasis. "For example, as you have just witnessed, it can act as a casting tool!"
Brian
"I hope you don't mind, sire." *The coachman said without looking back.*
 
"There is a spare room for one more passenger, and I suppose attempting to kick her out would be a chore. This gal said that she would drop off in the next city."
David
"Hmm.."
 
*The girl considers the answer given to her for a moment, as if judging whether they satiate her curiosity or not. Fortunately, she resigned to her neutral sitting position. Deceptively from her poker face, she was actually quite impressed by the apparatus. Though soon, her eyes shifted its attention from the watch towards Kohm himself.*
 
"Uncle, are you a famous person?"
 
*She promptly throws such a question without hesitation or reservation to the stranger. A part of her thoughts drifted, remembering the time where she received the delivery requests of both letters, a few days ago. She doesn't know who the sender was. It was quite a painful job, as there is no address given, only general direction and description of his face. But it is clear that the senders knew where he would appear.*
 
"There are not many people asking for this type of delivery, since it's expensive."
 
*"And looking at the quality of the parchments and gift.. It wouldn't be strange if it's originated from the nobles." She continued silently in her mind. Her gaze locked with the fire macen's.*

"I suppose it can't be helped, then." 

Kohm sighed, before blinking as a question abruptly hurtled his way.

"Huh? Well..."

Kohm had to admit that he was slightly taken him off guard by the suddeness of it- not that he wasn't expecting such a question with his accidental display of affluence, merely that it would be espoused in such a direct manner, without regard of the usual sensitivity around such matters. Archisorte's stoic expression even as her mouth spoke so bluntly certainly didn't help matters.

On the other hand, maybe he should have anticipated it, considering the blatant lack of regard already on display on her part previously, especially with how she tormented his poor back with her landing strategy... Not that he was expecting the utmost grace, but wasn't there a minimum standard for the ettiquette of couriers?!

Regardless, he eventually found the words to respond with.

"I suppose I did make a small name for myself in the distant past, though it's been a long time since then... Hmm."

Frowning to himself as he formulated his follow up to the subtext behind Archisorte's second statement, he reluctantly continued.

"Though, it is true that I still have a number of friends made from that time, who may or may not come from high places."

Even when clearly pushed, Kohm simply responded with general statements- a clear path to answers to the questions posed, while not directly confirming anything and definitely not revealing an iota more.

After all, there wasn't any reason for him to say more than what was needed to satisfy a weird stranger's curiosity, and have them come to their own conclusions, was there?

Besides, even if he stated the truth, it would probably seem too fantastical to be believed anyway.

Who was going to believe that a random seeming traveller was friends with the headmaster of the prestigious military academy of the knights and didn't even know the person who sent him such a prestigious gift?!

Certainly not himself, if he weren't that very random traveller.

"I see." *She answered shortly. Any speck of interest that might exist is might as well be absent from her face.*
 
*Of course, a minuscule chance – if even any at all – that Kohm would know that amongst her peers of couriers, Archisorte is widely regarded as a 'special' case. The swiftness of her delivery is nothing less than top-notch. A noteworthy achievement, she also holds the record of the fastest delivery time in the branch she worked for.*
 
*Yes, all of the things stated above are undeniable truths. However, as the law of the world dictated it, for each advantage something possesses, there should exist parallel tradeoffs. In this case, conforming with that law of equivalent exchange, God has hammered down a peculiar semblance of airheaded eccentricity to follow this young woman's wake.*
 
"Of course, you wouldn't choose a funny name like 'long-armed ifrit', for instance when 'making a name for yourself' right?"

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*Archisorte remarked. When she received these letters from her boss before, he might or might have not mentioned that name to her. It's hard to remember exactly, but the senders might have noted to her boss that the courier could confirm the identity of the receiver by uttering that name, just in case... Or maybe she just misremembered it.*
 
"Ha ha, I mean, who would have a 14 years old syndrome-esque name like that? I would be totally embarrassed if anyone called me with that name lolol. Of course, must've remembered it wrong." *She puts her hand in front of her lips, as she laughs with a monotone voice and expression. It's hard to tell whether she finds the topic as genuinely funny or not. Even so, one with discerning eyes would probably be able to find her somewhat ~~kusogaki~~ bratty nature through that laugh.*
 
"..You looks like a veteran to me, uncle." *She said. It wasn't a hard deduction, by simply looking closely at Kohm's appearance and bearings.*

Kohm's face remained stoic, but with each passing line his face slowly, almost imperceptibly started to redden in tone, with each seemingly unrelated comment making his pursed lips twitch, as he snuck an eye to check on the coachman, seemingly for unrelated reasons.

But despite the rather strange developments regarding the colour and activities of his visage, as a whole Kohm was in fact, for the most part, much more calm seeming than when dealing with the previous antics of the courier. 

Was it because he was not the direct target? Or could it be because of his expectations of the courier's conduct dipping to such a level where he could come to expect anything? Only Kohm knew for sure.

Coughing politely, Kohm responded tersely. "I've suppose I've been around about, yes. Afterall, there is plenty of work that needs to be done around these parts."

And indeed, general as the statement was, it was also correct. There were many possible ways one could get involved in the unrest all around the place, especially in a combative manner. 

There is no end to the demand of blades and hands willing to wield them after the splitting of the Mentian empire, afterall.

"Interesting that you've heard that name, though." Geniune surprise blossomed on Kohm's face as he made mention of that tibhit. "Where did you hear that? It's been quite a while since I've heard it." 

As the question left his lip, his eyes seemed to become rapt with attention, much comparable to a insider hearing news regarding a notable figure within the trade.
Brian
*"Dear God~ The only thing I ask of you, is to hold her when I'm not around~ When I'm much too far away~"*
 
***Fortunately** For Kohm, the coachmen seem to be focusing on what is in front of him whilst drowned in his own quiet singing. And one must say, he's quite the singer.*
 
*The carriage swayed lightly as they came into a small slope. On the side of the window, they are able to see a large embankment of clear river — headwaters far behind, from Ditwejik. Its bubbling stream travels laterally by the road leading to Voznupaz.*
David
"I've suppose I've been around about, yes. Afterall, there is plenty of work that needs to be done around these parts."
 
"...."
 
*She pondered silently. The never-ending conflict is a matter which weighs upon the shoulder of every citizen of Mentia. At least, everyone who is not a mere witless oxen. Both of her palms are intertwined together on her lap, in similar manner when one would normally pray.*
 
"Interesting that you've heard that name, though."
 
*Archi raised her eyebrows at his words. Reiterating, it was a vague memory which she didn't pay attention to – the instruction from her instructor, that drove that name to seep into her ears. It was intended for additional details in the account; she might find it too difficult to find the figure of a matching description.*
 
"..So that was really you."
 
*Her face turned into an OxO shape, as her eyes awkwardly trailed sideways towards the open end of the carriage. Kohm's words had confirmed that what she heard is not her mere imagination, nor a silly term conjured by erroneous recollection. It was in fact, a real nickname. The alias of whom should rightfully receive these letters — the old man in front of her.*
_ _

_ _
"Pardon me. It's okay, L-long.. Armed if.. Ifrit is a good name. Yes." *Her gaze returned back towards Kohm. She struggles to say it with a straight face. It feels as if she is currently uttering the most heinous lie in her life.*
 
"Regardless, I hope that you would still leave a 5 star review for me."
 
*The girl uttered that coolly, without remorse. It is as if she believes that she would naturally receive a perfect review if she hadn't said anything about the nickname. The memories of bunny cannonball seemed to be wiped clear out of her consideration.*
 
"Are you here to help us, uncle?"
 
*The blue colour in her eyes seemed to shine deeper as she asked that question. Her tone, albeit seemingly emotionless, contains a certain innocent and hopeful echoes within it.*
 
"I hope that these wars can soon end.." *She turned her head away to the open end again.*
 
"That way, there would be less of us, pitiable children in this world."
 
*Archisorte's voice trailed off, as though she was talking to herself, staring towards the rolling mountains and hills. Her thoughts fly back towards her home, an orphanage run by a kind sister. She wondered how her little brother and sisters were doing. Many of them, including herself, had lost their parents and home. It was the direct result of countless skirmishes and pillaging throughout the years.*

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about." Kohm said with a perfectly straight face as Archisorte ended her spree of mental assaults with an outrageous demand .

If there were veins popping from the side of his forehead, it was simply because he had too much salt for dinner last night.

A few additional seconds of watching Archisorte's internal struggle later, he relented with a sigh.

"Fine, you've got the right person." Kohm started, holding up a finger to forestall any interruptions.

"For the record, names are not picked, they are bestowed. And as with everything in life, there is a component of luck to things. Damned beastkin..." He muttered, suppressing the moodiness in his tone to limited success.

Then Archisorte's next words fell upon him like a basin of cold water.

His moodiness was immediately washed but morosity rushed in at the topic that had been brought up.

Letting out a deep exhale, he did not immediately respond to her question, instead digging into a nearby pack.

"Have you had lunch yet? It must have been a lengthy and hurried trip."

His hand emerged with a hidebound sack, tightly bound with a leather strap. What was most perculiar was the red magical circle with a simple tetrahedron centered within it, smelling faintly of dried alder sap.

*Archisorte shook her head innocently, to answer the query about lunch. She hasn't even had breakfast yet.*
 
*Her mind is still at his pronounced veins from before. She stared dagger at him. That, in addition to his earlier reddened face has confirmed her suspicion. Could it be that Kohm... Suffers from an increased blood pressure? Her brows slightly curved downward by the millimetres in sympathy – it's a malady which haunts a lot of elderly like him. Must be a pain to deal with.*
 
"Remember not to put too much salt in your food, uncle. You're old." *She said with a thumbs up. Somehow, it came across like a diss.*
 
*Although it might be imperceptible to most, the young girl seemed to be a little more... Expressive than when she first cannonballed inside the carriage. She rocks both of her feet lightly, back and forth. Whilst remaining stone-faced, some colour can be traced on the surface of her soft, pinchable cheeks. It differs from her previously pale and unblemished – snow white skin.*
 
*Maybe she is slowly adjusting to the company of strangers. Perhaps she is comfortable with the way Kohm treats her, even with her antics. Who knows?*
 
"What is that?"
 
*She tilted her head to the side. Her eyes twinkled curiously, observing what appears to be a magical inscription. The scent originating from that sack is quite familiar. It almost smells like a remedy her neighbourhood grandma often concocts to treat children when they have diarrhoea.*