127"
"128"
"12–9"
In the quiet room, Robert palms pressed flat against the wooden floor, fingers spread wide for balance. He lowered his chest toward the ground, breath steady, the floor.
Sweat rolled down his temple, pattering onto the boards, the sound loud in the stillness. The room held nothing but the rhythm of his breath and the relentless rise and fall of his body.
Vermilion knock on the wooden door, his face seriously. "You already sick these days, why don't try to take a rest first? Eat something properly"
Robert just sitting down the floor, his body glistening with sweat, he holding his shirt and wiping his face. "Well, doesn't working out will help to feel more better." He said with a tired smirk.
Vermilion frowning, he clear his throat. "Your symptoms is look like his majesty's used to have, what happened? You not going on a mission nowadays, when did you have these symptoms."
Robert just avoided his gaze, he cannot let his teacher know he have this sickness because he have some night with prostitute.
Robert just wiping his face and stand up. "It won't be worse, I already drank medicine for this.". He trying to stable himself, through Vermilion he can notice it, but just let out a heavy sigh.
"His Majesty have a mission for you.". His words echoed the room, Robert just look with a boring eyes, he know it will be something ridiculous..
Vermilion sitting down the chair near the window.
"To be honest…" He paused, considering his words carefully. Then his gaze sharpened. "It's our mission—and we must keep it secret as his request, is abo—"
"I don't give a fuck about it.". Vermilion eyes widen, his hand mouth open slightly in surprise with his react. Robert just lean on the door frame, his breathing heavily make Vermilion concerned.
"I have already sworn in front of him that I would serve, but as a normal guard, I won't anticipate in any next coming campaign…". He looks back at Vermilion. "Good luck to you, old man"
He left without a glance back. Vermilion remained alone in the room, fingers rubbing together as if trying to unravel a knot of thoughts. Wrinkles formed, line by line, across his forehead. A heavy sigh escaped him, and he rose, moving to the window to stare out at the sky, lost in contemplation.
————
"Catch this!"
The nomad children ran barefoot across the dusty plain, their laughter ringing through the air like wind chimes. A makeshift ball—patched together from cloth and leather—bounced unevenly between them, chased by eager hands and tiny feet kicking up clouds of sand.
"Be careful!!! You will get hurt if you run too fast!"
She stayed here for one week, here is almost feel like home to her, just temporary, she still cannot get along well with everyone, especially Alice, she kinda—arrogant to her.
She sat inside the tent while her personal servant helped organize her books. Her eyes lingered on the beads Kriz had made for her—small, delicate tokens that spoke of care. Over time, their relationship had grown beyond that of master and servant; a quiet friendship had taken root between them.
Kriz shook his head with a gentle smile. "No, Milady. His Majesty reminded me to bring them to the market, to have them woven into dresses for you. He has a good eye for choosing fabrics—these all come from the Eastern lands."
Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. "For me?" she thought, her fingers brushing over the soft threads as though they carried warmth from him. A quiet unease stirred in her chest, mingling with something tender she couldn't name. She lowered her gaze quickly, hiding the faint flush that crept onto her cheeks.
"Do you know where—where is him now?, he disappeared since morning". She asked, still cannot hiding her flushed cheeks.
Kriz couldn't help but chuckle at her sudden fluster, her innocent curiosity making her seem almost childlike. She carefully lifted one of the fabrics, letting the light catch its sheen.
"Well," she said with a teasing warmth. "His Majesty have some special meeting with The Khan and shipwright."
Her eyes widened. "A shipwright? But… aren't nomads known for traveling with camels and horses? How can they have a shipwright as well?"
Kriz smiled knowingly, as if he had been waiting for her question. "Not all journeys are made on sand, Milady. Our people cross rivers, sometimes even seas, when trade demands it. Horses carry us over the earth, but ships carry our voices farther—toward other lands, other tribes.
Kriz looked at her, her eyes widen in awe, fascinated with her explanation, Yet the way she held his gaze lingered a little too long, almost as if her wonder was less about the tale of ships and more about the woman telling it. "Woahhhh."
"Milady, you are staring." Kriz smirked. She startled and look away, that action justified making Kriz laughing more loud.
Her cheeks flushed more in embarrassment. "You have a unique beauty like this, so I can't help..—".
But… did you ever have a husband?" She asked carefully, his voice low, almost uncertain. "I mean… at your age, you might already have a family."
Kriz suddenly silenced, her smile fading, remaining is just a pity expression.
"I don't mean anything, I—I just curious, I thoug—…"
Kriz just smile slightly. "Well I have one, but it's like I used to have ". She putting the fabric in her basket behind her bag carefully.
"He passed away from sickness… just a few years ago," Kriz admitted quietly. "We never planned to have children, just a small dinner that our parents can know each other face. We were always far from home, he have a job in military, I'm here as a servant serving a people that I don't even know, always apart. We could hardly spend time together… not even in his last moments—"
Her eyes widened, stunned by her words. Before she could stop herself, she rose and wrapped her arms around her, pressing her head against her chest. "Shhh…" she whispered, trembling with the weight of her grief.
"He's still with you," she murmured. "Watching you, every day… every time you pray, when you sleep… even when you're lonely."
She caught the faintest shift in her breath, the subtle guilt woven into it—guilt that clung to her like a shadow.
She froze. It wasn't just a feeling—she could see it. An invisible hand resting on Kriz's shoulder, its outline shimmering faintly in the firelight.
Her breath caught as she slowly lifted her gaze, and there—just behind her—stood a figure blurred like smoke, but unmistakably human. A man's silhouette, watching silently, his presence calm yet heavy with sorrow.
Her heart raced. Is that… him?
She saw it—an invisible hand resting on Kriz's shoulder. His fingers tightened gently around her shoulder . "You're not alone" she whispered. For a moment, he felt a quiet warmth, as if the spirit of her lost husband was standing there, watching over her
"How beautiful life it is?"
Her hand pat Kriz head, she staring at the man eyes at the same time, like he want to deliver some words through her to Kriz.
"Dear my beloved". She whispered. "Peaceful always seeking soul to bring them to a happy place, forgive me to say this when i always praying for you to keep move on. Live, love someone that truly love you like I used to do for you. When you happy, I can finally finished my last dream when I swore to you under the starlight that New Year night—forget about me, yet—I still want you to keep me in you heart.
She can see the sadness in his eyes, yet, is so tender and lovingly.
"Thank you for everything and I'm sorry , I love you with all my heart."
She whispered those words that Kriz couldn't listen when he take his last breath. When she miles away from their cozy place called "home" .
The words lingered in the air like a fading melody, and her chest tightened until she could no longer hold it back. A sob broke free as she buried her face in her arms, trembling under the weight of her late husband's voice echoing in her heart.
She clutched her arms tighter, rocking slightly, whispering sooth words again and again. "Shhh—..I'm so sorry…"
She keep rocking and soothing her gently, when Kriz really calm down.
She trying to help her stand up, but Kriz suddenly bowing down on her knees, head against her shoes.
She surprised, trying to make her standing up. "What are you doing—please stand up!!."
She kneel down to help Kriz. "Are you hurt somewhere, tell me..!". Worried etched on her face, she trying to gauge answers from Kriz.
Kriz's voice broke the silence, hoarse and trembling. "Milady… thank you—thank you for letting him… for letting him say a last goodbye to me…" Her breath shuddered, words barely holding together. "Thank you… thank you so much."
Her eyes glistened as she bowed her head, the weight of gratitude and sorrow pressing against every syllable.
Kriz always stand up, wiped her tears away with a smile. "Well, I can't let him think too much about me anymore, stupid man." She smiled softly, then Kriz looking at her. "Milady," Kriz said softly as she steadied herself , "this afternoon there will be a flea market in the camp, shall we go take a look…?"
Her eyes widen in surprise, an eagerly smile appears on her face. "It's s good idea!"
She stand up, wiping dust off her dress, but Kriz hesitated. "But, what about his mane , should we ask for his permission..?"
She look, thinking a bit. "He—is nothing to me for now, so, why we have to?"
Kriz surprised with her declaration, but don't want to ask more about it.
Kriz already leads her to the flea market . The flea market stretched across the camp like a living tapestry. Blankets and low tables displayed beads, fabrics, wooden carvings, herbs, and tools.
Smoke from roasting meat and spiced drinks curled into the air, mixing with the sounds of flutes, drums, and lively chatter.
Children ran between the stalls, their laughter echoing, while traders called out their wares in a chorus of voices. It was noisy, colorful, and full of life.
Kriz leading her through stalls by stalls.
From her eyes, it was overwhelming—a rush of colors, scents, and sounds pressing in from every direction. She watched a girl proudly show off a necklace of bone and beads, a merchant pouring steaming spiced milk into clay cups, a young boy trying to balance a carved toy horse on his head. It felt chaotic, yet strangely warm, as if every moment carried the heartbeat of the clan.
"Is that— she saw a group of children's shoutings at one stall, the sound of bone clinking together draw her curiosity. Kriz lead her through the crowd, she saw two man trying to throwing bones to a doll made by sheep wool.
Kriz smirk when she saw her eyes widen, her mouth open in curiosity and nervous. The man keep throwing, but he ran out of time, he throwing his hands up in disappointment.
Kriz nudged her shoulder. "Milady, want to give a try?". She hesitated, fudging her fingers with her dress, she glance around, seeing everyone start to chose the next peoples will attend the game. She nervously look, suddenly Kriz raise her hand up. "We will try!!!
She gasp in surprise, she can feel everyone gaze now all attention on them, her hands shaking slightly, they all stepping forward and holding the bones they gave.
The doll is in front, but…. "I can't do this..—". She whispered to Kriz. But she just replied with confidence. "Don't worry, Milady, I will play for you until we have that doll—". She just finished her words, raising her hand up and throwing to the target will a powerful strength that even make her terrified— she not think this breathtaking woman will have this kinds of strength.
"MISSED,"
Kriz let out a disappointed groans, she rubbing her face then look at her. "Your turn—Milady."
She clutched the smooth bones so tightly her knuckles whitened. A chill ran down her nape, the nerves in her belly twisting until she almost thought she might be sick.
One… two… three… She counted silently in her head, then screwed her eyes shut and flung the bones forward.
".."
".."
"clang!"
Her eyes flew open, the bunny is still there—what did she just hit it with—?
She searching the shells to see they holding a small tank of fish to her, her eyes widen, part of excitement and part of relief. The crowd clapped their hands and whistled in encouragement.
She looking at Kriz with a smile, then holding up the tank to look at the fish.
"Black—white?" She eyeing the fish, it swimming gracefully together. In a slow motion moment, its scales glinting like shards of silver. Suddenly, a memory slammed into her—water, laughter, a face she couldn't grasp. Pain shot through her skull, and she clutched her head, eyes squeezing shut as the flashback dissolved into a throbbing ache.
"gasp"
Kriz already by her side, she hold her arm gently. "Milady? Are you okay?"
The ache start to fade away, she just nodded softly, she put a hand on her forehead. "It's so weird, like—something or someone—trying to tell me something.."
Kriz concerned, she holding her hand. "We should go back, you seems tired—…".
"No!—i…, I want to hang around more, I—I it's just—.". She flustered, trying to convince her to stay back.
Kriz just can sigh, then she lead her though the crowd to sit down on some rock chair.
"I have to make sure you okay to continue wandering around, it must be the ritual after effects—…" . Kriz suddenly go silent.
"Ritual?". She asked in surprise. " What kind of ritual?"
Kriz just looking away. "Forgive me, it's a nation secret and forbidden to talking about it, even to you, Milady."
She could almost smell Kriz's discomfort, the tension rolling off her in silence. Rising slowly to her feet, she clutched the tank against her chest with careful arms and pointed toward a nearby stall.
"Come on!" she urged, her voice a little too bright. "Let's go there—it has ornaments!"
Her eyes sparkled with forced enthusiasm, as though the glittering trinkets could distract both of them from the heaviness of a moment ago.