Midarion was summoned just before dawn.
Not urgently. Not harshly. Simply informed—an attendant's knock, precise and emotionless, delivered while the halls were still wrapped in that thin, uncertain silence between night and morning. He rose without haste, dressed with the same careful order he had adopted weeks ago, and followed the path he already knew by heart.
Captain Aelyss was waiting near the outer stables.
She stood beside a reinforced cart, its sides marked with expedition sigils, the faint shimmer of protective enchantments already woven into the wood. Travel gear was stacked neatly inside—maps sealed in oilskin, rations counted twice, weapons wrapped with a discipline that spoke of experience rather than fear.
She did not look at him immediately.
"I'll be leaving for two weeks," she said, adjusting the strap of a satchel. "External operation. Confidential."
"Yes, Captain."
"I'll be leaving command to the senior officers. Operations will continue as usual."
"Yes, Captain."
Only then did she turn, her gaze sharp but not unkind. Merely assessing.
"You will remain in your current role," she continued. "The person who will replace me during my absence will be chosen shortly. Your duties as intendant do not change."
There was no question in her tone.
Midarion bowed his head slightly. "Understood."
His voice carried no disappointment. No relief either. Just alignment. He had already begun reorganizing the coming days in his head—routes, maintenance schedules, supply requests that would need preemptive approval. Habit filled the space emotion might have taken.
Aelyss finally turned, studying him the way one examined a blade before deciding whether to trust it. "Do you have questions?"
"No, Captain."
Another pause. Shorter this time.
"Good."
Dismissal, clean and unceremonious.
He turned to leave, already shifting into the rhythm of the day ahead, when her voice stopped him.
"And intendant."
He paused.
"Ensure my equipment is accounted for. I prefer nothing missing when I return."
"I will personally see to it," he replied.
This time, she inclined her head. Barely perceptible.
That was enough.
Midarion bowed and turned away, already stepping back into the rhythm of usefulness. He might have missed what came next if the courtyard hadn't begun to swell with sound.
"They say the lower terraces are breathtaking—" someone whispered, already smiling.
"I heard Hydros is even more beautiful than the capital," another murmured.
Captain Aelyss stood before them, posture unyielding as ever.
"Today marks your first sanctioned exploration of Hydros beyond Bastion limits. You will depart in groups, each led by a senior. Two days. Curfew enforced. No exceptions."
The reaction was immediate. Joy rose unchecked—laughter, hurried plans, names of districts spoken like personal secrets finally earned. The city unfolded in their voices before they ever stepped through its gates.
Midarion stood at the edge of it, hands loosely clasped, listening. He smiled faintly. He had never expected to see Hydros freely. Wanting it had always felt indulgent.
He was content to let the sound pass through him.
"However," Aelyss continued, "one recruit will remain."
The courtyard stilled, excitement collapsing into held breath.
"Midarion."
The silence that followed landed somewhere behind his ribs.
He blinked once.
"Yes, Captain?"
"You have duties. No replacement. You are the most efficient intendant assigned. You will remain."
Heads turned. Conversations stalled mid-breath. Even the air seemed to tighten, as if unsure how to proceed.
The words were precise. Logical. Final.
The shock reached the others first.
Reikika turned sharply. "Captain—"
"I can take his place," she said immediately, stepping forward. "I know his duties. I can manage for two days."
Aelyss did not even look at her. "No."
Lior stepped forward, jaw tight. "If he doesn't go, neither do I."
Murmurs spread. Some nodded immediately. Others hesitated, eyes flicking between the gates and Midarion's still back. Loyalty warred with longing.
Midarion felt it then.
Not disappointment.
Pressure.
He turned before the moment could stretch, before anyone could choose for him.
He smiled.
Wide. Easy. Unforced.
"It's fine," he said. "Really."
The smile took effort. Not because it was false—but because holding it meant anchoring everything beneath it. The ache, the brief image of water-lit streets he would not walk, the instinctive urge to tell them it mattered more than he wanted to admit. He locked it down carefully.
Reikika stared at him. "Mid—"
"I mean it." He laughed softly. "You all need this. I'll just get better while you're slacking off."
One by one, shoulders dropped. Even Lior hesitated, then exhaled, the fight draining from him.
Midarion stepped forward and hugged Reikika before she could protest. Quick. Warm. Grounding.
"Go everywhere," he said. "Eat too much. Get lost at least once."
He fist-bumped Lior. "Bring back stories. Embarrassing ones."
They laughed. Real laughter. The kind that stuck.
As the groups departed, Midarion stood where he was, waving until they disappeared beyond the gates. He did not look away first.
Only when the last figure vanished did he turn.
Aelyss's cart awaited. He lifted her bags without being asked, the familiar weight settling into his arms. They walked beside the convoy in silence, wheels creaking softly against stone.
When they reached the checkpoint, she turned.
"That will be all."
He set the bags down carefully, ensuring nothing shifted.
"Captain," he said.
She paused, already halfway into the cart, then glanced back.
"…Thank you."
Two words.
They struck deeper than reprimand ever had.
His hands tightened on the straps. For half a heartbeat, the world thinned. Memories surfaced unbidden—years of silence where acknowledgment never came, of being spoken to only when correction was required. The contrast hollowed his chest.
"You're welcome, Captain," he replied, voice steady.
She nodded once and mounted the cart. The gates opened. The convoy rolled out.
Midarion stood there long after it vanished.
When he finally moved, it was only to sit. His hands shook once before he folded them together, forcing the tremor to still. He did not cry. He chose not to.
He smiled all day.
Not the practiced smile. Not the polite one.
The real one.
That night, he lay on his back beneath the open sky, arms folded behind his head. The stars of Astraelis stretched endlessly above him, constellations etched like ancient vows. He traced them without thinking, following patterns he had memorized in quieter years.
He had always loved the stars. They never judged. Never demanded. They simply were.
"Trouble kid, huh?"
Midarion turned his head.
A man stood nearby, posture relaxed, glasses reflecting starlight. He had been there longer than Midarion realized.
"I'm not troublesome," Midarion said automatically.
The man chuckled. "Mind if I sit?"
Midarion nodded. The man joined him, movements unhurried. They watched the sky together in silence, the pause deliberate.
"You're captain Aelyss's attendant," the man said.
"Yes."
"That surprises me."
"Why?"
He adjusted his glasses. "She's… not known for warmth."
Midarion smiled. "It's not always easy. But I try my best."
"To impress her?"
"Yes."
The man glanced sideways. His gaze lingered a moment too long, measuring without scrutiny. "Why?"
Midarion didn't hesitate. "Because I believe everyone has kindness in them."
The man stilled.
"Everyone?"
"Humans. Animals. Spirits. Even the rotten ones." He shrugged lightly. "Sometimes it's buried deep."
Silence followed, thicker now. Observant.
"She thanked me today," Midarion added quietly. "For the first time."
The man nodded slowly. "I see."
Midarion frowned. Recognition surfaced. "I've seen you before."
Understanding sharpened.
He straightened abruptly. "You're—"
The man smiled faintly. "Viktor Fritz. Commander of the Research and Intelligence division."
The night seemed to draw closer.
Midarion bowed deeply. "I'm sorry. I should have—"
"No," Viktor said. "You were honest. That's rare."
He stood, already turning away. "Enjoy the stars, Midarion. We'll talk again."
And with that, he left.
Midarion lay back down, heart steadying, eyes returning to the sky.
Still smiling.