Philip didn't know how to feel.

No, that was wrong. He knew he felt like drinking but he didn't know what to do about it.

Drowning all the memories in a good pot of liquor sounds good, he thought, despite never having tasted a drop of alcohol legally and knowing the punishment for going against the law.

His mind purred at the thought and he couldn't help but touch his tongue to his dry lips, inevitably wetting the fabric that stretched over his face as he did. I need to get drunk.

I need to forget.

Unfortunately, alcohol was prohibited on missions and as a messenger he didn't even have the right to the luxury.

"I'd do much better with it though." Philip blinked back the stars dotting his vision as he lifted his hands to cup his masked face, a sudden wave of dizziness pulling him under that thin film most people called consciousness. A brief moment of blankness passed and everything was still, then the lack of gravity in his mind won over his state of inertia.

He tripped over his own feet.

The messenger almost fell face flat on the dirt path as the world spun crazily around him. He was giddy, dizzy and in pain but the sudden loss of direction was something he had long been accustomed to.

"I need to. . ." Philip paused and forced his gaze through his fingers, his eyes set in a hard stare as he willfully set his hands back down to his sides.

What the hell am I doing?

His resolve to stand up straight didn't last long though. Despite his efforts he still ended up with a face full of dirt, nausea washing over him with a horrid vengeance as he crashed to the earth.

Stupid me.

Philip couldn't believe that he had gotten worked up to this point.

The Code damn you, Issac. He once again cursed the name of his onetime friend.

Resisting the urge to cough out the bile that slowly pooled at the base of his throat, Philip stared into the fog and forced himself to breathe-or tried to, at least. This wasn't the first time he had an attack like this. The blend of pain and nauseation was something he found all too familiar.

He was probably the only one in the North that still had motion sickness-and the only one in the world who managed to experience it while walking.

The many prescriptions he took to rid himself of the dreaded condition never once worked, even when he popped them in like candy and overdosed without a care. It was a condition he had had since forever, and till not long ago the only cure he discovered was alcohol-and he rarely ever got a chance to take that. For now he had to make due with the pills Dawn had concocted for him and even then he had almost run out of them.

"Braek," Philip's fingers twitched slightly as he gradually fought off the vertigo, his chest heaving as he tried not to throw up. Hr clenched his fists, searching himself for the strength to move.

I haven't had an episode this bad in months. . .

He let out a groan and forced himself to sit up, the world slowly coming to a stop as the gravity in his mind eventually righted itself and he could finally stand without feeling like he was swimming upsidedown in a bucket full of nothingness.

"I am one unlucky human." The messenger let out a laugh as he brought his left hand to his mouth and bit hard on his knuckle, using the pain to drive away the sickness that bubbled in the depths of his gut.

He could taste the faint tang of metal as his teeth dug deep, past the glove and into his skin, rivulets of blood soaking the material of his mask and slipping onto his tongue.

Philip licked his lips and pulled his throbbing hand away, thankful for the wake-up call but was also half concerned that the fog would infect the wound.

Do I really care?

This was one of the many times he wondered why life enjoyed screwing with him. He still didn't know how to feel about Issac's sudden reappearance and yet it didn't really matter.

My feelings aren't important, I'm still going to have to deal with it anyway. Philip scoffed and looked down at his throbbing hand with a morbid fascination.

A part of him was curious to see what would happen if he left it exposed and the other part already knew. No news of the poisonous fog had evaded him.

Either I lose this hand or I die. Neither option seemed too bad actually, dying would surely feel much better than the agony he would have to go through to survive.

Issac.

Issac.

Issac.

This is because of you.

Philip had thought he would feel better once he found him. After all Issac was his lost friend, a part of himself that he had missed for as long as he could remember. But on the other hand, that same friend was also the most famous person in the North.

Braek. . . It took the eighteen year old a few minutes for his mind to come to the realization that his childhood friend Iza was the Issac Westley of the North, and from there he was dragged into a mix of hate, joy, relief and dread-but thankfully no more nausea.

"I can't believe this." Philip dug his nails into his scalp and tried not to yank his hair out by the roots as he glared at nothing in particular.

I am a blasted fool. He wished he could slap himself but his hold on his head was probably the only thing keeping it from exploding.

Only an idiot wouldn't realize. . . And all this time I thought. . .

"Damn, I really am an idiot." Philip sighed in resignation and quickly reviewed everything he had learnt about Isaac throughout his career as a messenger. And the only reason I became a messenger was to find him.

Philip resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He gathered his thoughts as he combed his memory for the details he had unconsciously collected.

Issac Westley, Commander of Company C, a stickler for decent language, perfect order, and everyone on the damned planet knew his name.

Of course. The quiet voice in his mind snarled sarcastically and Philip shook his head.

Focus! The messenger forced his train of thoughts to continue.

Isaac's rise to fame began when he brutally crushed the largest rebellious faction in the North and also managed to get their forces to join the army-this was just after he got enlisted-and things just kept getting better. After three years of performing several-often miraculous-feats he was promoted to the rank of captain where he continued his steady ascension.

Philip scowled at the information. It might have sounded important but really it was just common knowledge, a two year old would know that much. Issac was the nation's poster child for military service, the army's pride and joy.

A respectful young lad, the East's minister had once called him. It was obvious that the four nations were pitifully envious but the East was the worst, they had actually tried to buy the captain-and right in front of Corey for that matter!

I would have shot him up to general right then and there if I was Corey Roya. . . Just to spite the lot of them, Philip mused as he started walking again, suddenly gaining more respect than he already had for the North's minister. The guy has got some self control.

Corey never hid Isaac's potential from the other nations, and Philip himself knew of several times the East had offered the Captain a place as general in their army, not to mention the numerous 'invites' from the other nations and marriage proposals from various noble households.

Golden boy he was, Issac politely declined-the North's military was where his loyalties lied, he had said just earlier this year.

Why won't he decline? The eighteen year old snorted at the thought and took his hands out of his hair. The North is the best place for a warfare warrior like him.

While it was true that the East's army was just second to the North's, the North's army completely eclipsed it by millions of men. Philip could still remember the stories his grandfather told him about the past and the old tales only served to show the nation's might.

Half a millennium ago there were seven continents and five world powers. And presently there are only four nations and one power.

The Northern nation might very well be the sole reason for that.

Back when the earth was split, the North managed to claim the United States, United Kingdoms, France, a part of Russia and everything in between as her own.

The world grew alarmed as the nation's borders stretched across the continents that were once called South America, Africa, Europe and Asia-and it didn't help that the ocean was partitioned as well, advancements in technology making the entire process a cake walk.

It became the largest region on earth and the people behind the whole scheme were equally as terrifying.

Almost all of the great powers had a hand in the nation's creation and no one dared to say a word about it-the threats of instant annihilation by the North were too real to be ignored. They had enough fire power to turn a country to rubble.

By the end of it all the East had gotten the majority of Asia and Africa with Australia on the side, but they weren't too pleased. Still, there was nothing they could do to gain more land, the North was just that powerful.

Regardless, the East was still better off compared to the South and West. All the two had to their name were a couple of countries, the ocean, Antarctica and the Arctic. And the North only relinquished the Arctic to them just to shut up their whining.

Bullies. Philip chuckled.

He scratched behind his ear and looked around the fog for a moment before deciding at last that he was lost. I should have waited for that bloody captain.

The humor of the situation was not lost to him. He had been trying to play hero and save the day, only for the real hero to come and save him. And the hero is the boy I once loved too. . .

It was not the fact that Issac had played dead for eight years that upset him. No, it was the fact that even before he got the fame Philip had looked up to him. He really wished he hadn't, but he had.

Issac was the brother he had always wanted-the only sibling that wanted him back. He was someone Philip wished he could be.

With a sad laugh Philip tapped on the side of his goggles and turned them off, lowering himself to the dirt road as he let go of the tension that had been holding his body.

I'm tired.

Immediately the world changed from bright green to a dark, motionless void and the young noble shut his eyes in exhaustion. I'll just let him find me.

In all honestly, Philip was too drained to move anymore. He didn't even care if he got mauled by the many beasts who owned the golden gazes that were constantly trained on him. The only damn reason I came to the North was because of him, so if I die it's on his codedamned head.

Philip had never been afraid of dying because he never had a reason to live. . . Then Issac came along.

While he wouldn't call himself suicidal there was no denying that he had been caught in the act one time too many. It still bothered him that he had tried to kill himself as a child but he didn't really know why the thoughts of that day made him feel like his heart was getting shredded.

Philip didn't know whether it was because he was disappointed that his seven year old self couldn't come up with something more ingenious than throwing himself off a bridge or the fact that Issac had jumped right after him and dragged him out of the freezing lake. Maybe he was just distraught that he had lived this long just to chase someone he would never reach.

Captain Issac Westley, the renowned name of a hero. There was no one who didn't respect him, but few knew that he had been like that from the onset. A self sacrificing soldier everyday.

It's still the same. The messenger took in a deep breath. The clothes he wore seemed to suffocate him, snuffing out his resentment before it had the chance to turn into a strong hate.

He's better than I will ever be.

Accepting the fact wasn't hard, he had been in his friend's shadow his entire life, he just didn't know it then. Deep down Philip had always known that, and even though he accepted it long ago he still tried to be his own person despite that. And for a while it worked.

Then the moment the blasted bastard's name is mentioned I instantly become a joke. Hostility flared up once again before Philip immediately squashed it, chiding himself lightly as he ran his finger down the edge of his face and wiped away the dirt on his cheek.

Just because he's better doesn't mean you are nothing. He tried to console his past self, pulling his thoughts out of his painful memories. I'll prove that, just you watch.

Philip should have noticed the creeping chill that seeped through his uniform, or the way a strange numbness snuck up his toes, but he didn't. He managed to fall asleep without realizing that his left hand was slowly being encased in ice.

†

AN: Well, wasn't this interesting? A very nice history lesson!
Philip became a messenger to find Issac! Isn't that wonderful!

Then more insight into Philip's nausea and the North's awesomeness!

All I can say is, why didn't our messenger take care of that bloody wound!

Alright, question of the chapter (yes, I'm doing that now.)

Where in the world do you think you would be living in right now if the earth was divided like it was in this chapter?

Thank you for reading!