Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

Mythra woke up to find himself inside a small and cosy hut. He was lying on a soft sheet of gossamer fabric and his head was resting on a bolster made out of dried grass, woven in strings. He was flummoxed to find himself inside this hut. His head felt heavy and his arms lacked the strength to lever himself on his back. Somehow, he mustered enough strength to sit upright and glance all around him. He saw a couple of fabricated wooden sheets made from the skin of the tree barks. They were used for writing things in an imperishable format as compared to the Isyrus* parchments which were perishable, when they became moist.

There was a small carrier backpack made from canes and twigs with a piece of dense cloth tied around them to form a cylindrical space for storing things and carrying them for travel. From the belongings placed in the hut, Mythra deciphered that it was a temporary home of some vagrant person.

As he attempted to bring his feet under him, he felt a stinging pain across his ankle. His impaired foot was not completely healed and his herculean act of magically holding up that column in order to save the villagers, had aggravated the injury. He yelped from that pain which travelled from his ankle all the way up to his knee. He also felt a bump over his head which had left a wound. Head bumps were not new to Mythra. He had suffered a similar injury before, from the boys of the village who had bullied him.

A man stepped inside the hut on hearing Mythra's cry. He appeared like a decent geezer with grey hair tied behind in a knot and parted at the front. He had medium stubble. He was wearing an ochre coloured robe which was draped around his upper torso, leaving his left shoulder uncovered and extending all the way till his calves.

Although that was the dressing style of the Roshai when they were performing their duties as a priest, his stature was much taller for a priest. He was taller than Ramusa Vorcerus, the warrior whom Mythra idolised. The geezer had broad shoulders and an erect posture, which was quite commendable for his age. His forearms still had the rugged and tight skin as opposed to his wrinkly and slender face. His yellowish brown coloured eyes gazed at Mythra.

Mythra was startled when this old man entered the hut. He felt daunted by the man's build.

"Don't be alarmed, son. I am not here to hurt you or rob you," he said, his tone gentle.

"In fact, I brought you here to cure you," he added. Mythra was still sceptical, but the man's soothing voice and his sincere eyes seemed veracious.

"Who are you?...and...and..." suddenly Mythra remembered the invasion, his sister, his brother, and his grandmother.

"Where is everyone?!" he exclaimed, frantically. Mythra attempted to stand back on his legs, enduring the pain in his foot. Yelping and shouting, he was back on his feet but his balance was perturbed. Mythra was forced to sit down due to the pain as he was unable to maintain a firm support over his legs.

"Calm down. You are only going to compound your agony if you continue to strain your foot. It needs rest," said the man.

"Bu...But I have to look for my sister. Where is she?! Have you seen her?" he asked, eagerly.

"Is she alright?" he spoke, without waiting for an answer.

"Listen to me kid. Just take a deep breath," said the man, trying to pacify Mythra. Mythra obeyed, as he had no other option. After a few moments, he was placated. But he was still thinking about the invasion.

All that blood, all those people - butchered by the Parso soldiers, the citadel destroyed. All those memories began rushing through his mind. He could not remember every detail of the event because he was in trauma, on seeing all those heinous acts committed against his people. But he could still remember fragments of it.

"Tell me your name. Where do you come from?" asked the man. Mythra exhaled deeply and he looked at the old man. He hesitated to reveal his identity to this stranger but he felt, in his gut, that he could trust the man. After all, that man had saved him from drowning in the river.

"My granny has warned me about not telling my name to strangers," he said. The old man guffawed.

"Is that so? Well, then I shall introduce myself first....while you help yourself with this delicious fruit," said the geezer and extended a fruit towards Mythra. It was a Pepan.

It was the same fruit which Mythra and Herios had tried to garner from the tree but in the form of a competition, just about two Deven back. Mythra was able to drop just one Pepan and that too was decayed, while Herios was able to drop several. Mythra had lost the count of the Pepan that Herios had won, but nonetheless, he still remembered all of it.

Mythra snatched the fruit from the man's hand and took a huge bite out of it. The man shrugged and chortled. "Ah!....It seems someone is hungry," he said. Mythra gluttoned the entire Pepan in just two bites. He took another one from the basket. Mythra had never been a shy one when concerned with eating. Besides, he was too hungry to worry about the manners and etiquettes.

"My name is Akorak Brutarus," he said. The house of Brutarus belonged to the social class of Kyshatar. This implied that the old man was also a high born of the Avestriān society, just like Mythra.

"I am Mythra Auctisila," Mythra replied.

"All right, an Auctisila...So where are you from?" he asked. Mythra was baffled by this question. What does he mean by that? Am I not in Lothar? Mythra wondered.

"I am from here...." replied Mythra in a flustered tone. "I am from Lothar," he added.

"Son, this isn't Lothar. We are way on the outskirts of Lothar," Akorak explained. He was befuddled to find an Auctisila who was from the kingdom of Lothar. The Virgin cape was the ancestral home of the Auctisila people, but somehow, Akorak had found this boy who was a citizen of Lothar. The river Nelam had carried Mythra downstream, towards the southern part of Avestriā.

"Where are we?"

"We are at the junction of the territories under Lothar and Queenslock," replied Akorak.

"What's Queenslock?"

"You don't know Queenslock?..." he asked. Mythra shrugged.

"Well...It's a nasty place. The less you know the better," said Akorak and he went towards a small box which was placed at the corner of the hut. He removed a small container from within the box and opened it's lid. There was a gel like substance, green in colour, that was filled in the container. Akorak took some of that gel on his fingertip and gently applied the balm over Mythra's sprain.

Mythra yelped initially as he felt a twinge at his ankle but in the next few moments, he felt relieved. It was if his ankle had never suffered a spasm. There was neither ache nor any difficulty in moving his foot. He applied a little of it over the bump on Mythra's temple as well. Mythra felt relieved and healthy.

"What is that?!...How did you do it?" asked Mythra, ingenuously. Akorak smiled with a wily expression.

"It's magic!" he replied.

"Really?!" asked Mythra in an astounded voice as he stared at that magical balm inside the container. Akorak chuckled at Mythra's artless attitude.

"No, of course not. It's just an ointment made by crushing the leaves of Caedir* herb and then adding water in it for fluidity," explained Akorak. Mythra was astonished to know that there was such a herb that could relieve a person from a stinging pain.

"Well if you can walk, would you like to come with me?" asked Akorak. Mythra narrowed his eyes.

"Come where?" he asked.

"In the trees, nearby. I am going to collect some dry wood for the night and some resources for our dinner and then I am off to my next destination...I am a traveller," replied Akorak.

"I noticed," said Mythra, hinting at the temporary material lying around the hut. Since Mythra could walk, he was very much interested in exploring the surroundings and eventually return to his home. He thought that somehow, he could find a way back to his home with Akorak's help. He could return to his siblings and his grandmother, if indeed they were alive. Maybe the old man would help him to get back to Lothar.

"That way you could tell me what happened in your kingdom, on the way?" expressed Akorak.

Mythra shrugged and stood up in his place. It was much easier than before when he tried to get up on his feet. There was no pain at his ankle and he could easily sway his foot without feeling a spasm. Mythra decided to accompany Akorak in the woods. He was still dressed in the same garments which he was wearing, when the invasion happened. His lower garment was slightly torn at his knee while the upper garment was moist and smelled like the river algae.

Akorak was walking with a bag, strapped to his back and a staff for supporting his weight. Although he was strong, he was still an old man and he could not carry his weight only on his legs, especially when he had to carry some resources on his back.

As Mythra stepped outside the hut, he was dumbfounded on seeing the location of the hut. It was built on the apex of a hilltop. The precipitous slopes of the mountain ranges were covered with a green blanket. He could see the river in the valley below, cutting its way through the foundations of the mountains, while he stood on the top of those hills. He carried me all the way from that valley? Mythra wondered about it.

It was almost afternoon, but Seros was concealed by the clouds that floated over the hill tops. Mythra could sense some cordial warmth in the air. The moons Prohor and Vaerūn were visible in the sky but Arkā was nowhere to be seen. They traversed over a small patch of grassland till they arrived at a canopy of tall trees with wide barks. Mythra could easily notice the Avester*, flowering at various places from the ground.

"So tell me what happened to Lothar?" asked Akorak, curiously as he stomped his feet on the ground while walking. The bottom of his staff dug deeper in the moist mud beneath his feet, every time he leaned over it for support. He shifted his weight from his legs on the staff.

"There was....there was an attack by the Parso," spoke Mythra in exasperation.

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Footnotes:

• 'Isyrus' is a material prepared from the pithy stem of a water plant used in sheets. It is used throughout the continent of Avestriā for writing or painting purposes.

• 'Caedir' was a small herb whose leaves had anesthetic properties. It was often used in the infirmaries for treating the injuries.

• 'Avester' was a flower which grew predominantly on the continent. The continent was ergo named as Avestria, on this flower. The botanical design is as given below.