What had been an encounter between strangers became a reunion party of sorts.

Valter was reminiscing of old times and Guren was openly listening to him. Lili would chime in several times, Eva was surprisingly talkative, and Silva and Sebastijan said very little.

"The man spoke like a salesman," Valter recalled, placing his pipe on the table after one last puff. "Every time he came by my house, he was lookin' to barter for somethin' of mine. Or he would shove his wealth in fron' of me instead. Either way, he never hesitated to get friendlier with us all because we lived by each other."

Guren nodded, while Lili was pouring him some tatra tea which he graciously accepted. She offered a cup to Silva as well, but Silva declined. While tatra tea seemed desirable, Silva wasn't fond of tasting the alcohol in it.

"Thank you," Guren told Lili. "Bartering? What kinds of things did granddad want from you?"

"Ah, it's a bizarre story," Valter replied, peering at the stone figurines on the fireplace. "It happened so long ago, but I remember it clearly. I was harvestin' my good wheat for the day, when I sees this large, strange-lookin' man in a fur coat and hat walk up to me and ask for my attention. Now I say, what's a man able to afford a fur coat and hat want wit' a poor farmer like me?"

In response, Lili grunted and took another sip of her tatra tea, even though she disapproved of its flavor. "We were not poor," she acclaimed. "We were struggling with the rise of taxes and four hungry mouths to feed. We also had to lower our prices of crops and livestock due to those damned underground farms."

"Nothin' we can do about that, Lili," said Valter. "We live in a world of magic an' greedy noble born. Anyhow, this man comes up to me with a straight face and asks if my linseeds are up for sale."

"Linseed flowers," Silva blurted in. "What exactly are they used for?"

"Oil painting," Lili responded with her eyes lit up. "Once a linseed is ripened, it can be dried an' pressed into a yellowish oil. This oil can be mixed with coloring pigments or be used as a drying oil for paintings. This is essential to use when you're oil painting."

Silva repeated those words in her head, remembering Myriiel's explanation about oil painting. It was much like Lili's, but Silva never knew the oil came from linseed flowers. Was that the reason why she was so fascinated in the field before?

"Turns out his wife loved to paint," Valter continued after Lili was finished. "An' those linseeds were in high demand an' hard to find in markets. This fellow takes one good look at my field and immediately takes out his money."

Matylda loved to paint, Silva thought. I think the art supplies I got from my birthday were originally hers. That's why they were all crammed in that closet.

Valter began to laugh, finishing his tatra tea in the process. Soon, the atmosphere turned giddy from his laughter, and everyone had smiles on their faces, even Sebastijan.

"So, I says, you want to buy some of my linseeds?" he recalled. "Olaf says, how 'bout I buy the whole field for ya? Ah, that really made me mad."

Suddenly, Valter's face turned somber, and Lili turned her head toward the kitchen window. She gazed at the heavens, with eyes of a melancholy, bluish white. The mixture of the clouds and the sky had reflected off her pupils.

There's...a peaceful sadness in the air, Silva thought. I feel it spreading from the linseed field. Blue and white make up the clear skies.

"You don't have to talk if it hurts you," she said to the Peltonens. "The linseed field...means a great deal to you all."

Valter and Lili were stunned, never anticipating her to understand their sadness. "I'm amazed by your wisdom," Valter proclaimed. "Ah, I still can't believe an' elf is in my house."

"No, it's alright," he resumed. "I can talk. Where was I, ah, I of course said no to his offer. Olaf proceeds to ask for a third of my linseed, showin' me fifteen gold from his pocket! I never found a deal that good from the market, so I gave him fifty harvested seeds for fifteen gold. That was the beginnin' of our business."

"Sometimes, Olaf would barter the linseed with his own items," Valter exclaimed. "My youngest daughter, Adela, loved playing with dolls. My other daughter Kristina wanted sweets we couldn't afford. My youngest son, Dariusz, was very smart and loved to play games like katóda. And Anton..."

Valter paused, and the room went silent for a moment. Nobody spoke or chimed in, and Silva could perceive that feeling of sadness again in Valter's face. Guren could sense it as well, turning to Silva. She nodded, hoping he would say something to relieve the dismal ambiance.

"Did he give you those stone figurines?" he asked, and Valter's eyes lit up. "Over there, by the fireplace?"

"Yes, actually," Lili responded. "The granite is so finely polished, far above the talents o' an average stoneworker. I'll admit they made wonderful models for my artwork. Olaf never hesitated offerin' them to us. My favorite's the guardian angel in the middle."

"Mine too," Eva added with a smile.

The little girl suddenly got up from her chair, running towards the front door with Harlee and Daisy close behind. Sebastijan fidgeted with his katóda box, but in minutes he had gone upstairs. Out of impulse, Silva rose from her chair, asking what the matter was. Were they tired of conversation, or was there something else?

"Silva, no," Guren whispered, eyes tilted towards the Peltonens. "It's not our place to intrude."

Remembering their discussion before, Silva was still overcome with remorse. She knew something awful happened to Peltonens. They were forced with regret, forced to exist silently where the days were slow and rhythmic. Like strands of wheat, the Peltonens let the wind stray them back and forth until time would bring about their decay.

Is that how you want to live the rest of your life? Silva questioned herself. Is there no fertility in your souls? Is there no meaning to your statues or paintings? Is this how your grandchildren will live too?

"Mister and Missus Peltonen," Silva stated, her voice firm and obsolete, "Your hospitality and your stories of Olaf mean everything to us. I only ask that I return your kindness with my wisdom." Guren suspiciously eyed her after she said that, but Silva did not mind.

"I don't understand," Valter replied. "What more of your wisdom can you offer us, miss Dreida?"

"Not to you two," Silva suggested. "To your grandchildren, Sebastijan and Eva. I feel that their hearts are...raging inside...and they can't express them, or it would be too painful."

Lili and Valter were shocked when Silva said this, looking at each other soundly. The air in the room grew less tense, and the sweet honey scent of the tatra tea was all Silva could sense now. The only disturbance was Guren, who was close to confronting her to leave. However, he did nothing but listen to what she had to say.

"I want to guide their hearts to a peaceful place," Silva continued. "I will only use words and actions from my heart to influence them. I ask for only one thing in return, which is a little of your linseed."

"You will...guide them?" Lili repeated. She and Valter were still bewildered, wondering what sort of guidance Silva would give their grandchildren. "An' you ask for...a bit o' our linseed?"

"You see, I'm sort of an artist myself," Silva admitted, her ears shyly twitching from saying that out loud. "Well, I aspire to be one in the future. And with your linseed, there's no limit to what I can paint. You do understand, Missus Peltonen?"

No words could describe Liliana's face, except that she was filled with joy. Lili grabbed her cane, got up from her chair, and waddled to Silva, tightly grasping her wrinkled palms with Silva's. The old woman brimmed with energy.

"You're an oil artist too?" she exclaimed. "Oh heavens, I've never talked to someone whose interests are the same as mine, much less from an elf! Would you like to see some o' my paintings, oh, would you?'

"I would love to," said Silva. "But I know we'll get carried away, and we don't have that much time to spare. We must leave before the sun sets."

Lili sadly nodded her head, realizing Silva and Guren's situation. "Yes," she said, "You two must be headin' somewhere important, after all. Valt, what d'you say about her offer?"

With a grin on his face, Valter finished the last of his tatra tea and got up as well. He scurried to the shelf full of liquid bottles, grabbing one with a honeybee imprinted on white paper, surrounded by a yellow background. He returned, pouring some of the liquid into his cup. Valter placed the bottle on the table and sat back down, offering some of the liquid to Guren.

"The finest honey mead in Skálva," he proclaimed, his cheeks beaming red. "They produce it in Medvčela, a town in Svítzland known for their mead-making and abundance of honeybees. But their whole business is overseen by the kingdom of Fruchtbern. An' you know who gave this to me? Well, I'm sure you could take a guess, right mister Siegfried?"

Guren chuckled, answering, "My granddad?"

"Ha, that's right," Valter replied. "These bottles are as pricey as my house, dunno how Olaf got a hold o' one. It was the last item he ever bartered me with."

Soon, the life and death of Olaf Siegfried had crept into Silva's mind once more, with dozens of his memories ingrained into hers. Everything she knew about him, from his troubled childhood to his unfortunate end, was being mourned by another. It was being mourned by a friend, one that Markus and Emily might not have known about at all. And here Guren was, knowing now the cause of his grandfather's death and his life before. Silva wasn't sure what he was thinking about.

"Anyhow," Valter said, releasing the grimness in his eyes, "I've been savin' this for the day when we would meet again, heaven knows how long it's been sittin' there. But he an' his wife passed, and I haven't met with a Siegfried since then. Well, until now, that is."

Guren's eyes widened, as he seemed to realize what Valter was asking of him. "No, I couldn't..." he started, but Valter cut him off.

"So," he finished, "Miss Dreida, I will let you guide my grandchildren's hearts and give you some o' our linseed. What I ask in return is to drink with Olaf's grandson, which will guide my raging heart to peace."

At that, Silva and Guren understood Valter's wishes. Yet, Silva wondered if her perceptions of the Peltonens were right, as what Valter was asking felt like closure for Olaf's death.

Maybe so, or maybe not, she thought. But he held on to this mead for that long, hoping by some miracle Olaf would appear on his doorstep. Have you waited, for days on end, despite the other sadness inflicted on you and your family?

In truth...I don't understand.

"I'll go get Sebastijan," Lili told Silva, peering at the gleam in Valter's eyes. "Eva is probably in the linseed field. It's the place she goes to...let everythin' out."

Silva nodded, as she had a place like that as well. Valter had already poured some of the ancient, liquidized honey mead into Guren's cup. Guren turned to Silva, grinning as if he was waiting for something like this to happen.

"Remember Silva, we leave at dusk," he stated. "Thank you for this, mister Peltonen."

Frankly, the first place Silva went as she opened the front door was to the Peltonen's well, as she felt embarrassed in the house with the stench on her boots. She traversed west of the house, where all the fencings and livestock resided. While it was spacious, there was not as much livestock as Silva thought, with much of the field empty.

Silva walked past the fencings, feeling the cracks and blemishes on the wood. Pondering how old the farm was, she ended up near the barn. There was the chicken coup, which was triangular-shaped and covered in metal wire. Wooden poles outlined the corners of the coup, and a sheet of metal enveloped half of the coup to signify a canopy from the sun. Pecking at a small, wired latch were several young chicks, hoping that she would let them free.

Perhaps they're just hungry, Silva thought, studying the older, white chickens and the eggs underneath them. There was a bucket of wheat grains and corn seeds next to them, but it was nearly empty.

There's got to be a bag of this stuff in the barn, she said to herself. I can't leave these poor things to starve in here.

Disregarding her goal to wash her boots, Silva left the coup and walked to the front of the barn. The double doors were cracked like the fencings, but taller than the average human. Silva had to arch her back slightly and tighten her palms, pulling on the exterior handles. What lay inside were sporadic patches of dust and a group of shadowed, small figures.

"Sedlák?" One of the figures exclaimed, startling Silva. "Is that you? Or missus Liliana? Or little Eva or Sebastijan? Come to play katóda with us again?"

"Is it supper yet?" another voice proclaimed. "May I ask what we are eating at the house today? It is Saturday, right?"

Then, a smaller figure ran towards Silva, and she finally realized who exactly she encountered.

A...dwarf?

As the history books in Olaf's basement said, the small, stout dwarf looked up at Silva's eyes and ears. A mixture of curiosity and fear radiated through his expression. He was a little boy, with features about the same as Sebastijan's, although his cheeks and nose were redder and wider. He wore a leather tunic and pants, with nothing under his heavy feet.

"Otaad, maatka (Father, mother)," the little dwarf said, speaking in a language that Silva did not understand. He ran to his two parents, now revealing themselves from the darkness.

"Tohdej, vaac leibti kaannid?" (Tohdej, what do you see?) the mother asked him, cradling him in her arms.

She was much heftier than Silva, with ivory-black hair braided into many knots. Instead of a tunic, she wore a woolen robe tightened by a rope on her waist, with the bulk of her arms and waist stretching the fabric. Her eyes were darkened on the inlets, but her face still resembled warmth and comfort.

"Dekhel! (Elf)" the boy stated, pointing at Silva. "Dekhel!"

The mother dwarf glanced at Silva, staring at her for some time. She then fell to the ground and cried out in shock, realizing who exactly Silva was. Her comforting face turned into a face of dread, as she would have never expected to encounter an elf in this very place.

The father dwarf took charge, noticing his wife's cry and raising a knife at Silva. Taking it from his tunic pocket, the father's black beard and long, braided hair were the same as his wife's, but it seemed more tousled. With a menacing glare above his reddened nose, the father shielded his wife and son with his muscles. He seemed set on Silva's demise, here and now.

What...is happening? Silva thought, but her reason was clouded with panic. Why are dwarves here, and why do they fear me so much? 

I don't know what to do...what to say...do I call someone? Can I...

"Greetings," Silva said to them, trying to use a softer tone to convince the family she meant no harm. "Please, do not be afraid, for I am a spirit of the linseed, coming here to grant you all a future of eternal happiness. For what perils you face or have faced, I am here to guide your raging hearts so you can live your lives freely and peacefully."

The light from the barn door helped personify Silva's spirit-like appearance as well as her relation to the linseed. To make it seem even more believable, Silva used the same technique from her battle with Markus on the river, surrounding herself in a faint green aura. It was small, but the sunlight helped the dwarves to witness it.

And they all believed it, as the father stepped back, and the mother and son had no words.

"The soil that grows linseed comes from the earth," Silva explained, piecing back what memories of history she remembered. "And become one with the earth, grow into a beautiful flower and flourish, until the gates of Dhorheim bring you back down as you decay."

As Silva said that, the father suddenly fell to his knees, with his fists raised and tears in his eyes. "Dhorheim!" he bellowed, "Mighty Dhorheim! For you, we live! For you, we die!"

"Blessed spirit," the mother called out to Silva, with her son Tohdej continuing to stare, "We are only nadeníci, yet you grant us your wisdom. Thank you, spirit of the linseed."

With that, Silva bowed her head and curtsied, showing her admiration for the dwarven family. "Now I must leave to tend my field," she explained. "Farewell to you all. Farewell to you, Tohdej. May you live like a flower and prosper."

Closing the barn doors, Silva still couldn't believe that dwarves were living inside it. It seemed like they knew the Peltonens, but for what purpose? She did not know what the terms "sedlák" and "nadeníci" meant, assuming they were titles. But she couldn't ask the Peltonens about it, or they would find out what she wandered into.

So, Silva quickly hurried to the well, sitting left to the barn and the chicken coup. It was an outdated, cyan-painted iron pump with a bucket beside it. Using her hands to push the pump back and forth, Silva took off her boots and placed them under the well, as spurts of underground water splashed onto the soles. Moments later, Silva was finished, now heading towards the linseed field.

Moving closer, Silva felt peace flow into her, easing her tensions as of now. There lay a fertilized dirt path ahead, guiding her toward the field. She could see tinier and fresher footprints in the dirt, figuring that they were Eva's. Ahead was the field, shrouded with shades of light purple. It crossed for miles and miles ahead, stopping at a crossroad of cottonwood trees. It was only a slight glimpse, but beyond the trees was a yellow, sunlit plain ascending off the landscape. Behind this enlarged plain stood a single mountain, with valleys and hills circling it.

Usama Peak, Silva realized, imagining herself grazing through the plain. You can see it so clearly from here.

She imagined herself grazing through the yellow plain, with the serenity of her surroundings allowing her thoughts to flow. Perhaps that was why Eva would go here to let her emotions out since she would feel some peace afterward. Silva knew what that felt like.

In the distance, she noticed a dark grey bench and a girl sitting on it, with a boy jumping about the ground. It stood in the center of the linseed field, and the dirt path that separated the flowers was leading Silva to it. She hesitated, wondering what words to say to them, to comfort them in whatever sadness they felt.

Are you doing this just out of the kindness of your heart? A voice resonated, and Silva knew who it was. You're trying to get linseed in return for your "wisdom", right? Don't be ashamed, you know why those dwarves are in the barn.

"No, you're right," Silva said silently, her voice unsung in the field. "I'm doing this because I want to. I want to help them because I know how they feel."

Do you really know? Nemesis retorted, and she was persistent this time. More importantly, do you care to know? Will you sympathize with your enemies too? Why should they deserve your wisdom?

Hushing Nemesis's claims, Silva grazed through the linseed flowers, with her hands folded behind her back. Soon enough, Eva and Sebastijan noticed Silva. While they seemed startled by her appearance, once they heard Silva humming, the tension inside them subsided for now. She stood in front of them, minding what they were doing by the bench.

"Hello, young ones," said Silva, keeping the same face. "Can you really see the mountain from here? Oh, what I'd do to run as fast as I can through that yellow plain ahead of it."

"Granny said I can do it when I'm older," Eva replied, "Says I can get lost if I go too far."

"Well, you know that the linseed will always guide you back home," Silva inferred with a smile. "It did for me."

"It won't for pa an' ma," Sebastijan said quietly.

Silva saw little stone pebbles, some still inside the wooden box, lying inside white squares. Wondering what these were, Silva asked Sebastijan.

"It's katóda," he exclaimed, with a bright expression on his face. "It means "cat's hop", an' it's a game pa used to play when he was young like me."

Silva was intrigued, seeing a piece of white rock carved into a stick lying on paved limestone. She wondered if this was what had drawn the squares, as they looked human-made. She counted nine squares, each with the numbers one through nine printed on them. They made up one big square, with the number five in the middle. On each opposing side were two squares that said "home" on the left and "heaven" on the right. 

"How do you play katóda?" Silva asked.

"Let me explain," Sebastijan replied, surprised was interested. "Each player is a cat with nine lives, an' their goal is to become a lion. The player first throws one pebble at the white squares, an' whichever number it lands on, the other player has to hop on each square while avoiding the number the pebble landed on."

"The game continues by adding a pebble thrown for every turn, an' the goal is to go from 'home' and back while not touching the 'heaven' square and the squares where the pebbles are. If you can do this after the ninth pebble is thrown, you win an' go back to the 'home' square as a lion. If not, you go to the 'heaven' square an' lose the game."

Silva was amazed, as she had never heard of this children's game but was charmed by it. The fact that Sebastijan explained it clearly showed how smart he was and how much he loved his father for it. Yet, it had to be a bittersweet feeling since his pa wasn't around nowadays.

And like that, the two children agreed, seemingly happy that they were playing with someone else, much less an elf. Sebastijan went first, tossing the pebble onto the eighth square, which happened to be in the right middle spot of the big square.

Silva watched as Eva hopped from one to two, noticing that she was using two feet only for numbers one through six, and hopped from seven to nine with one foot. Eva was graceful, taking in the scent of the linseed. She went back to the home square and stared at Silva, eager to see how Silva would do.

Silva decided to hop from left to right foot, prancing like a stag on a silent night. It was satisfying that she could show off her inherited talents mixed with her agile footwork from training. Eva and Sebastijan were in awe of her hopping as if this was just a dream. When Silva got back to the start, she started pondering the overall meaning of the game.

The game is meant to train your footwork, and the goal is to become a lion from a cat. Why, is this game based on military training for the Czahun Army?

"I see why your father loved this game," Silva said to the boy. "My companion also wanted to become a lion, see, he joined the Knight's Guard when he was fourteen."

Sebastijan's eyes shimmered when Silva said this, hopping from the second to the fourth square. "I can't wait until I'm fourteen," he proclaimed. "Then I can join the Guard an' fight for the lion! It's what my pa would want me to do."

Eva was silent, sitting on the bench every time she was the one throwing the pebble. It seemed like she had some connection to the bench but was reluctant to share about it. As Silva passed the second turn, she realized how badly she wanted to make these children truly happy. But of course, she was a stranger, who could only comfort them with words.

Silva tried to throw her pebble to the seventh square but missed it entirely. It bounced to the limestone pavement instead.

"My goodness, that was awful!" she acclaimed, and the children laughed. Silva began to laugh with them too.

"Miss Dreida, you're funny!" Eva exclaimed, anticipating the next turn.

The game prolonged until it was Eva's turn to throw the eighth pebble. There were only two open squares left, the ninth and the first. It was nearing dusk, and Silva had talked more with the children and had gotten to know them better. Sebastijan's father, Dariusz, was accepted into the Czahun Royal Army, meaning he didn't visit the house much. His mother, Kasandra, could not leave her homeland as she was a soldier too. So, they left their son with his grandparents and would visit from time to time.

Poor child, Silva thought, to think he's separated from his parents because of the Czahun's greed for militarism.

"You're very brave," Silva said as she stood on the ninth square. "Both of you."

"I'm...scared," she said, worried she wouldn't make the landing. "He's...it's...too far away."

"No, he's right beside you," Silva responded. "How about taking my hand?"

Eva first looked at Sebastijan, who was patiently waiting at the home square. She glanced at Silva again and soon felt comfortable enough to grab Silva's hand. With one leap, Silva dashed into the skies, guiding Eva towards the home square. As she landed, Silva clutched Eva tightly so she wouldn't fall.

As Sebastijan could not make the jump, Eva and Silva won the game. He looked disappointed yet accepted the loss.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Silva stated, letting go of Eva's hand.

Eva walked towards the bench, staring at the yellow plain beyond. It seemed like she was in deep thought, and Silva wondered whether this was the time she would let out her emotions. However, she turned to Silva, tears in her eyes. But with the tears came a smile, what Silva wanted all along.

"No, it wasn't," Eva admitted. "That's because he's always gonna be with me, wherever I go. He's my guardian angel."

As the sun set, Silva noticed a group of people by the linseed field. Looking closer, she saw Guren, Valter, Liliana, and the dwarf family, all watching them play katóda together.

Glancing at Eva and Sebastijan as she took their hands, Silva could see their eyes, almost like the red and blue colors inside had mixed into a beautiful purple. Perhaps it was the reflection of the linseed flowers, with peace guiding the Peltonens so they wouldn't lose a part of themselves.

And then, they all glanced at the dark grey bench, which protected the field and the people around it.

The guardian of the field played there as a child, enjoying every moment of his early life until it ended. Unfortunately, his happy moments were short-lived, and dark times lay ahead. Bloodshed, pain, and death were a constant, rhythmic cycle that never seemed to end. But at least he could die in peace with his family and be buried under the linseed flowers that he and his wife loved.

She will live like a flower and prosper, Silva said to the guardian of the linseed field. And enjoy her life to the fullest. All she needs now is a push.