Staying the night

The sky was quick to darken once Avalon made his way near the houses, their walls stabilized by broader wooden stems, pointing upright from the ground while balancing the sloped hay roofs of the tiny buildings.

The street was plastered with flat stone, much more sturdy than the patchway he and the boy on his shoulder took after exiting the valley. The warm light that radiated from the inside of the houses made him feel somewhat lonely—unable to find a hotel, he would have to rely on one of the residents to offer them shelter for the night.

Striving through the darkening street, passing by empty fenced-off grazing fields and plots of maturing crops that were set up around the handful of houses in the middle, Avalon finally saw something that seemed similar to a tavern. Smoke retrieved and stretched out to the sky from a chimney that was built into the side of the building, its walls plastered with what seemed to be white clay, hiding the wood beneath it from outside.

The door was quite light, its metal hinges squeaking quietly as his arm pushed against it; the movement of the door made a bell ring—its sound toning through the dimly lit seating area, the white façade stretched around the corners of the open room, and a wooden staircase led up, hopefully leading towards unused dorms the two of them could use.

No one sat at the rounded wooden tables; even the bar counter was untended. Candles flickered on the tables, some lined up at the counter, and sat onto slim metal plates that caught the drooping wax as the candles melted slowly away.

Avalon was quick to make his way to the wooden counter, sitting the unconscious boy on one of the unused stools lining up in front of the counter. His finger anxiously tapping on the wood, trying to peek into the opened door behind the counter, the same soft light that spanned through the room escaped the frame of the door as well.

"Oh— forgive me… I didn't notice the bell ringing… It's quite late after all." 

The tone of the gray-haired woman who looked back at Avalon from the doorframe was soft; it took a while before she came forth to the counter, mustering him before she came closer. Avalon needed a while to adjust himself to the sudden switch in language, not used to hearing the water kingdom tongue.

"I'd like to rent a room for two—for one night… If that's possible." 

His nail stopped clacking against the wooden board, stopping instantly as he set eyes on the innkeeper. Straightening his posture while making his request.

"Oh, of course—you are lucky… The season of southern people crossing the border ended a while ago—all of our rooms are free again… Five copper coins, please." 

Her laugh was slim, directed more to herself as she sorted cups behind the counter, her wrinkled fingers stretching out at Avalon as he placed the coins in her palm. Giving him a key in exchange, the iron was oxidized—the metal dark; engraved into it was their room's number.

Nodding quietly to the lady, Avalon picked up Midas's body to carry him on his shoulder once more. Their beds were held simple—straw was stuck into the wooden holster, cloth was spun over it to hold the bunch together, on which he laid the boy down, covering the youth's numb limbs with a slim wool blanket.

Glancing shortly out at the tiny village once more, Avalon sighed, his eyes looking downwards onto a small tree that grew right behind the inn the two of them spent their night in. Taking off his belt, sword, and bag, he finally got to lie down—dread kept him awake for a while.

The wool blanket covering him, he stared into the dark ceiling of the room—every time he closed his lids, he saw the blinding white sandstone that made up the head general's building. The way he stood in-front of the massive double door of the elongated building, waiting for someone to finally listen to him. 

Ashamed of himself, he closed his lids with stern brows tucking at the wool to cover his throat. The feeling of his neck randomly twitching at any point, possibly ending his life, as a blade was held right onto his skin, had burnt into his mind.

Sunrise announced itself as rays shone through the milky glass of the only window that was built into their room. Midas was finally able to move his lids again—his head still stinging somewhat from his training. 

Avalon must've brought him here; the boy was fast to awake, taking slow steps towards the man's bed to muster his sleeping face. His sickle rested on the counter in the middle of their beds—sunlight making the metal the handle was made out of light up. Staring into the warm golden eyes with squinted eyes for a short while, Midas turned to sit in his bed again.

The straw mattress was much more comfortable than the rugs he slept on in the dunes, the dry grass giving way under his weight. Midas crossed his legs—putting one on another, closing his eyes.

The last time he forced himself to go faster, even though being able to move mana while being able to see and walk was a huge improvement on its own. Midas needed to improve slowly; keeping up the circulation of mana for a long time was more important than the speed at which it travelled through him. Keeping the cycle to remain flowing would be his main priority.

His eyes lit up, feeling a finger touch his forehead—Avalon stood in front of his bed, looking down at him, speaking before he could even move his head to return his glance.

"Don't move; keep at it… Let me take a look—close your eyes if you want to; anything that might help focusing." 

His raspy voice was direct enough to make Midas follow his instructions; closing his lids made him remember Jihid—he was the one who told him about mana; Avalon was quite similar to him. Straightening his spine, Midas focused on mana circulation once more.

He was able to tell the position of the warmth that traveled through his veins more precisely with every time, feeling a rough area of warmth making its way up from his right arm back down into his left. 

"Good, open your eyes now… keep it up." 

His words were short; upon opening his eyes, Midas felt the warmth somewhat fading again; he was sure mana still travelled through him, his grasp of it becoming thinner once his brain picked up what was lying around the room. 

The pace of his mana was still too slow for him; still, it was mildly faster than the first time he tried circling it through his body. Most likely a result of not tensing up as much, he was quite relaxed at the moment, much more than he was on their way to the village or town they found a stay in.

Avalon kept his sight on the boy; he was able to see the pace of his mana slow down, a tempo too slow to be worthy of a seat inside of the university at the moment, yet they still had some time until they would arrive at the city in which the university was built into; the youth had plenty of time to develop.

His blank stare was eyeing through his torso; he was mildly surprised by how focused the boy was, given how early it was. Taking his finger eventually off of him, Avalon held his tongue for a quick moment before speaking.

"Don't rush things; fainting won't help you grow—instead… Try to stay consistent—make it a habit to let it circle through you while we make our way to the city." 

Turning away, yet still talking to him, Avalon grasped his sword, tucking it into his belt to set off. Midas silently nodded at his words, his eyes focusing on the texture of the wooden planks that spanned the floor of the room, drifting away for a short while. 

Avalon looked into the empty glance of the boy; the sun warmed his face as it hit against his cheek. Grasping the handle of the old weapon, he held its rusty blade under his nose—the sharp side pointing to himself. 

"No time to dream, Midas, we need to go…"

The climate was much cooler, even though still warm. Midas was fond of the sun not burning his scarred back—a nice change. Rolling hills stretched out in front of them as they left the tiny village behind, the lush fields of grass riddled with crops and unused farmland that were scattered around. Their rectangular shapes aligned on the footpath they took, the planted weeds matured in the golden light of the sun.

Avalon quietly waved at farmers who were already out, busy tending to their plot of land, returning the slow waving motion with his outstretched hand. Midas didn't glance at them, trying his best not to cramp up as he focused on getting his mana to flow while taking steps. 

"This region is known for its baked goods—bread of all kinds, as well as the needed flour to produce it, originates from these regions farms... The warmer climate and the many rivers that flow around here are perfect to cultivate their crops." 

Avalon thought Midas as they passed by another set of farmers, the man taking the lead as Midas stayed behind—his pace slower to keep up his mana flow. On their way, more trees, some larger than the ones they saw upon passing the rift, sprung up from the flat terrain, filling up the space between the farmland plots.

Becoming more compact with every step the two of them took, the scattered bundles of trees eventually grouped together, merging into the forest the two of them now entered through, the sun's light only able to reach through the dense leafwork of the many trees making up the forest.

Midas stopped once his eyes registered the suddenly cut-off light from the morning sun, walking through the light shade the trees crowns gave them. His head eventually focusing on Avalon, as the man in front of him was busy examining the bark of the stems that grew along their path.

Distant chirps sounded through the lush growth, the air much cooler in between the trees; a faint wind rushed through the tree crowns, and Midas listened silently as the leaves rattled against the stream of air. Avalon's head turned, a brief moment before a shrill scream sounded through the woods.

"Midas…!" 

Avalon made Midas aware, shortly glancing back at him before turning to the sound's direction—sprinting without speaking any other word towards the boy.