2404 Strilaxis 29, Reshpe

It took a while for Kennen to procure for himself the usual clothes of foragers. The lengths he had to go through for it was astounding. He had spent the past weeks slowly planning his escape from the capital, dropping by the eastern stocks more often than necessary. There, he had observed a number of teams going in and out of the capital through the use of stairs for fairies and smoothed slides for the foraged items.

After having to crawl his way in the suffocating darkness just to get back to his room the other day, he resolved to never carry out any schemes he was planning after lights out. It took days before he could blink without black spots dancing in his vision. That's probably one of the reasons why no one had bothered conducting anything illegal during those hours. Even the intruders would think twice when they glimpsed the pure black sheet enveloping all of the capital.

With that out of the equation, Kennen was left to plan around the hours he could actually see where he was going. Just the prospect of being able to go out of the capital brought a dizzying pint of anticipation in his gut. Every time he spaced out in Lydin and Master Hornori's lectures, it's where his mind gets back to.

He might already be too late by the time he made it out but he wasn't going to give up now. It took too long for Kennen to study the exit points without being recognized as the "little Chief" and the "mini Marshal". He would always need to blurt out some sort of excuse as to why he was watching ice sprites load crates upon crates of fruits and rolls of textile into wheeled boards before pushing them into the inventory room. At some point, his excuses would grow dull and people would start to wonder about the real reason for his visits.

So, he made it his first goal to get himself into a forager's clothes just to blend in. He remembered springing the trap when he followed one male ice sprite of his size disappear into his room. It was only a matter of sounding an alarmed cry to go and check out something and slipping into the room unnoticed when its owner dashed out in response. His fingers hadn't stopped shaking with stress and adrenaline for three hours after that.

Then, he forced Lydin to teach him how to dye clothes and she actually got so tired of his pestering she endorsed him to the textile department. There, he absorbed everything he could about concocting different types of dyes for different types of textile. And when no one was glancing his way as he soaked his test batch into a blue pool of melted ice, he chatted up the division supervisor and got a clue on what he was really looking for.

Now, he walked through the halls of the Ice Capital donning his stolen, forager clothes, his hair bleached to a blond color. It had taken quite a few tries and several patches of his hair falling off from being burned but it paid off. No one recognized him as he sauntered towards the eastern stocks with the hood of his cloak pulled low to his face to cover the patched chunk behind his head.

He fell in line with the last team waiting to be deployed up the stairs leading to the outside world. Over the course of his observations, he noticed several individuals dressed in normal forager clothes but carried none of the tools they usually carry. Instead of baskets, satchels, or pouches of versallis or small chunks of bultouine ores, these people carried swords or nothing at all.

When he snuck the question in one of Lydin's lectures, he learned that these people were actually spies sent out by the Grand Marshal. Their main purpose wasn't just for gathering intel but also for protecting the foraging team. Although foragers should be able to defend themselves in a scuffle, they weren't that knowledgeable in actual combat so a spy's presence was still important.

That's what Kennen counted on when he showed up empty-handed. The team leader, an ice sprite with frizzy brown hair and a triangular hat buckled around her neck, met his eyes and gave him a serious nod. As expected, she thought him a spy.

Guilt clawed at his insides when pieces of his plan nipped at the edge of his mind. This team would be relying on him to protect them in case something goes wrong outside and he would be deserting them to go into an adventure to track down Merko.

Well, what choice did Kennen have? He couldn't exactly command a search party just for his friend. Maybe the Grand Marshal was doing her best in locating the missing teams and was just having a hard time at it. There weren't exactly many soldiers in the ice capital and training them to become the least formidable also took a long, long time.

As far as he was concerned, the Grand Marshal and the military might be spread too thin to be able to do anything more for the missing foragers. That's why Kennen was here. That's why he was taking a step towards the stairs leading to the capital's exit point disguised as a spy.

"Foragers, remember your training and stick close to the group," the team leader said from the head of the group. Kennen kept to himself and maintained the rear. His eyes flicked to the other team being sent out alongside them but to a different city and territory. Alkara, perhaps? "Remember that even though our ears are pointed, the island would still see us as a threat. When prodded for an answer, say you are a water sprite and prove it so. Do not, I repeat, do not reveal your synnavaim to anyone. All clear?"

A resounding Clear! rang across the team. Some even raised their fist into the air as if they couldn't wait to go towards their possible doom. The team leader blew a breath and tucked the sling of her supplies satchel deeper into her shoulder. "Estimated duration of the operation: two days and fourteen hours," she said. "Let's go."

Then, they were on their way. The floors whizzed by Kennen's periphery with every flight of stairs they tackled. After their fourth case, Kennen was huffing and out of breath. He didn't dare sow it or ask for a break. He should be as quiet as he could so he wouldn't be found out. There was no sound around them other than the falls of their soles against the steps, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional coughs one of the team members were bound to make.

After a few minutes whose count was lost to Kennen, they stopped in front of a wall of black. The team leader muttered a prayer under her breath, addressed to Kalon, the god of travels and peace, before pressing her hands against the wall. With a groan, a slab of the wall groaned and slid to the right, revealing the lush undergrowth peeking through the fairy-sized hole.

An awed gasp flitted out of Kennen's lips. He clasped a hand over his mouth almost as quickly. A spy. He's a spy. Therefore, he's seen this scene a number of times to be numb against its beauty. He lowered his hood over his face to avoid the team leader's sharp gaze when he passed her by as she let all of them pass through before her.

"Fan out," she ordered, pressing her hand against the wall one more time. Kennen watched a chunk of a tree trunk slide shut in place where the wall of ice was supposed to be. Fascinating. So the other side was made of ice while the other was made of bark? It's an ingenious way to conceal things. Who came up with that?

The team leader reached to her ear and squeezed her lobe. "I assume you all know how to use the communicator given to you in your training," she looked each of them in the eye before settling on Kennen. He could feel his spine turning rigid. "You seem to have lost yours."

Kennen reached to his ears, noting its sharp taper. He made a show of tapping his pockets and looking around before shrugging. "Seems to have lost it," he said.

"Use this," the team leader passed him a spare one from her satchel. A small stud earring sat on his palms. Out of habit, he put it on, the metal spike feeling cold against the hole drilled into his lobe. "Relay your position every three hours. Let's meet back here after a quarter."

Nods and acknowledgement rang through the crowd. Then, they flitted off to their respective tasks. Kennen made a show of loitering here and there, watching his teammates pick fruit from bushes and low-lying branches inside whatever orchard they were in. He took care to not scratch his ear accidentally and trigger a connection in which he has to relay his position. Only press the earring when necessary.

No one was with them on the paved road tearing through the undergrowth. Kennen dared to walk further, ignoring the last of his teammates picking a bunch of round, pink fruits from a bush with orange leaves. From the looks of it, he guessed it might be jolrene. Not that he liked eating those.

It was quiet. Kennen attempted to tuck his hands into his wide sleeves but was jarred back to reality when he encountered the absence of cloth flapping in front of him. He looked at his arms clasped against each other. They looked awkward with the long-sleeved tunic he wore. Even the trousers felt weird against his legs.

He blew a breath. Just keep walking.

Soon, the turns he took through the mess of tree trunks and bushes as he deviated from the main road led him to an opening of a city leading up to a hill. He craned his neck up, shielding his eyes against the rays of the setting sun—a real sun, by the way—to look up at the houses carved straight from the side of the hill and the roads winding in and out of the thick intrusions of greens and oranges dotting the expanse. He spied brown roofs and beige walls. What was this city?

He scratched the side of his head, his fingers coming off damp and tinged with yellow. Oh, it looked like his hair dye was wearing off because of the profuse sweat dripping off his face and watering his back. The heat outside the capital was one of the things he hadn't counted on.

Another was the fact that he didn't really know what to look for and how to look for someone. He doubted anyone would remember a person they met a week ago, much less a whole month ago. Still, he had to try. He had come this far.

With a shrug, he committed to going inside the city. The soles of his stolen boots slapped cobblestones, one of which he recognized to be otrite. He heard about the rocks which could change colors depending on the light of the sky from Master Hornori and had been fascinated since. If only he had a knife so he could chip a piece from these cobblestones.

He walked further, his mind regressing every hint of turns he made and every alley he found himself drawn into. It was probably bad for him but for now, he would take whatever he could in finding a clue that Merko's team had made it into this city.

For him to have that kind of information, he had to talk to someone. Anyone.

Dread settled into his gut but he steeled his nerves. Sure, he was taught that everyone who were not ice sprites would be sure to gut him on sight, but he was willing to believe there might be good bunches out there. He just had to stumble on the right one.

Animals pulling carts and wagons passed him by on several occasions. Kennen had caught himself admiring the four-legged animal with short necks and long snouts leashed close to their wooden burden. What were they called? They were just wonderful. The various colors of their coats he had glimpsed while wandering the alleys spanned from pale brown to black. There were even some dappled ones and that made him giggle in delight more than once.

The afternoon wind shuffled his hair against his forehead. It was still cooped up under the hood but Kennen closed his eyes for a while to breathe in the scent of fresh air. Instead of the stale and quite scratchy air in the Ice Capital, the smells wafting in this city brought a dozen sensations in Kennen's senses. There was the faint smell of oil, molten metal, and burning coal. Off-setting these putrid odors were the exotic scent of flowers, grass, and of the forest, itself. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

There's so many things going on around him. From the fairies loading sacks upon sacks of what looked to be flour and grains into carts, children running through the streets and laughing without a care, and uniformed guards parading the expanse in groups of three or four. They might be from the Russet Guard, Alkara and Penleth's militia. Seeing them helped ease Kennen's senses as he strolled deeper into the city.

A crashing sound caught his attention. He turned to the building adjacent to him on the street and spotted a fairy being knocked against the glass windows by another fairy. Both of them were dressed in quite the same clothes as Kennen. The textile division wasn't fooling around when they developed these disguises.

So, there he watched, transfixed, as both men staggered in their feet and pointed groggily at each other. They muttered underneath their breaths, their speech too garbled to be intelligible. Kennen recalled the times some of the ice sprites would drink too much Irche during the holidays and get to this state. They must have been drunk. Very.

Someone tapped his shoulder and he whirled to find a young man beaming at him. With his tame, green eyes, pointed ears, and smooth, tanned skin, he didn't look like he could harm desis, much less, a grown fairy. "Are you lost?" he asked, tilting his head to one side, making the dark brown hair sweep off his forehead.

Kennen shook his head. "I'm actually looking for someone," he circled a finger in the air to prove a point. "What's the quickest way to Flaron?"

That's the last place the records claimed to have traced Merko's team from. There might be some clues in there. The fairy he was talking to chuckled. "You're in luck," he said. "My mates are looking for one last passenger in our cart before we depart."

"Would you pass by Flaron?" Kennen asked.

The fairy nodded. "Come with me," he said. "I'll tell my mates to stop by when we get there."

"That's awesome!" Kennen clasped his hands together. The universe was finally looking down on him. "Lead the way."

The fairy gave one last chuckle before jerking his chin into the immediate alley spreading from the one they were in. Kennen resisted the urge to hum as he tucked his arms to his sides while they walked. His eyes roamed the streets. They seemed to be turning darker with every turn. Maybe it's where they prefer to wait? Where there were not many people? Hold on, why wasn't there anyone?

"Here we are," the fairy turned to him with the same kind smile. "My mates will just be around the corner."

Kennen scratched his head again, making sure to wipe his fingers into his dark trousers before the boy could see the yellow stain coming off from his dye. "Why not just tell them to come out here?"

The boy shrugged. "The cart's too big," he said. "We're merchants by trade, you see. We've got a lot of wares, especially people with interesting trails like yours. What are you?"

Kennen blinked. "What—"

He barely got the word out before the neck of his neck flared with pain. What's going on? Despite his best efforts to remain upright, his vision blacked out and his knees knocked together. His muscles felt numb. He didn't even feel his cheek hit the ground because by then, his lids had already slammed shut.

What's happening to him?