Getting picked up

The rain ultimately transformed into a never-ending hail of droplets that fell down onto the both of them, mud-stained Midas leather boots—the dirt path slippery, softened by the rain. Not minding the water, Midas seemed to enjoy the rain—it was the first time he saw water come down like that onto him, especially in such masses.

The sky turned much darker; the light gray clouds were quick to form a dark carpet of storm clouds that made their way inland from the coast, making their way through the forested region.

Avalon held his arm up, shielding some of the rain to at least not fall right into his eyes, turning around to the boy from time to time as he felt his clothes getting damper with every step he took through the rain; his white garments eventually turned completely grey. Seeing Avalon shield his head from the incoming water was evidence rain occurred much more frequently here.

From the darkened mist that covered their path ahead, Avalon's ears picked up light squeaking noises—wheels; their joints made these noises as they rolled on the ground, followed by footsteps and hooves that hit the ground at almost the exact same time.

Two sets of curled-up horns met his sight; beasts with brown fur that spun down their necks were heading their way, roughly his height—carrying a carriage hulled in a deep blue cloth; whoever sat inside was definitely not a simple salesman.

The two four-legged beasts that resembled Fahin, their dull eyes almost identical to the mountain dwellers, yet their builds were much broader—perfectly bred into beasts that were capable of pulling sledges filled with people inside.

Stopping a small amount of steps in front of Avalon, the ride eventually revealed a tiny troop of Water Kingdom guards, consisting of two small knights and one slightly taller man, his short hair a vibrant brown, unmasked like the others that remained behind him on his left and right.

Midas eventually stopped to take a look at why Avalon stopped, growing weary of the sight—the troops armor was exactly the same, the helmets and chest plates formed in the same shape as the ones worn by the men that invaded the northern fort. Out of pure instinct, Midas's left hand covered his right; even the shiny metal that was used for their armor seemed dim under the rainy sky.

The unmasked man matched Avalon's height; the both of them tried their best to establish eye contact in the strong rain. Forming a serious expression with his bushy brows, the northern guard shortly raised his palm at him.

„Buendi'e Avalon… Opus."

Avalon nodded at the formal smile of the guard, closing his eyes for a while—somewhat unsure of how these men will react to him traveling with a boy from the dunes.

„Thy duo a culpriat de'structum…?"

Midas watched, his eyes widening as he heard the unfamiliar tone of the language spoken right in front of them, his lid twitching somewhat as water hit his eye—still able to keep unstable eye contact. The guard walked past Avalon with careful steps, his grunts planted on the same position as he examined the boy on Avalon's side.

„Nevad. Arrival de lectum…"

Avalon replied shortly, making the guard look up at him—his perplexed expression resting on his back for a short while, dimming down as he took a closer look at the drenched boy in front of him, eventually turning a sharp grin as he stepped towards Avalon again, his hands on hips as he spoke.

With a broad stance, he talked to Avalon, making the red-haired man's eyes light up at his words. Midas was only able to guess what they were talking about, watching as he grasped Avalon's shoulder to turn to the ride. Nodding eventually, the foreign trooper let him go, turning to Midas as Avalon began to speak to the youth through the thick rainfall.

„These guys just offered us a ride directly onto academy grounds; that will save us plenty of time… Plus, it might be safer, given they offer us protection."

Avalon came closer, crouching down to the puzzled boy, as he looked at the northern troops, his voice more dim now.

„We of course can also decline… It must be horrible being near people that invaded your only place to stay in the desert…"

Midas's eyes rested on Avalon's somewhat worried expression, sighing to himself in a flat tone—his sight switching over to look at the knights in front of them.

„Don't worry about that; it was my goal to leave the desert behind at some point… This might help me save some time in order to get to Almas brother…"

Yet for another moment, Avalon felt unsure of how he should handle this youth; Midas's focused glance was something that only perplexed him further as he tried to find an understanding of how he thinks. Reluctant, he eventually got up and nodded without any other word, joining the troupe as they entered the ride.

„You see—they actually arrived here because of that exact carriage we found before the rain started to appear… The big one in front of you is Gunvar. He originated from another country north of here—the kingdom of plants… We know each other since we work at the same university."

Midas was able to hear an never-ending amount of raindrops hit the spun-up cloth above them; the clunking hooves of the beasts were unable to be ignored, feeling the stares of the two slimmer guards that sat in the front.

Looking back out at the darkened forest they left behind, the youth watched from the open arch that was in the back of the ride; they entered through there before they set off again. Eventually turning to Avalon, looking down onto his bleak fingers as they pierced and peeled the dotted, orange shell of the fruit he took with him.

The fruit's flesh was a light red, four compartments of flesh and juice made up its circular center; the youth held onto it, his body curled up similar to Avalon, his eyes lighting up as the slim membrane of the fruit's inner quarter popped. Able to resist the sour aftertaste, Midas eventually spoke again.

„The kingdom of plants…? Do you know more…?"

Avalon sighed somewhat, chewing on the flesh of the fruit as his head turned to the outside, his hand wrapped around his put-up legs.

„You see, the kingdom of plants… or the kingdom of grass is an allied state of the water kingdom. They share quite a lot of similarities: language, faith… culture. Its lands are much more flat, great for fruit and vegetables to prosper…"

With a tired expression, Avalon held up his last quarter of fruit flesh between his thumb and index finger, making the youth watch as he let the last piece of fruit fall into his mouth.

„They originate from there... Both of these kingdoms trade with each other frequently, food and people for stone and metals…"

Midas was only able to nod at his words, silently stuffing the other quarter of fruit flesh into his mouth as he flinched at the bitter sourness that followed the initial sweet flavor. The fact both of these kingdoms shared the same language was quite convenient.

The broader guard of the trio that invited them eventually got up from his seat, his eyes clearly searching for something as he scanned the inside of the ride. Taking a while before standing up from the low-lying bench he rested on to look out at what surrounded them.

The ride began to slow down; instinctively, Midas's grip rested tight on his sickle, watching as the broad man gave a command to the old driver, his tone becoming more gentle once he spoke to Avalon. The sudden shift made Midas watch the red-haired man as he got up as well, mirroring Midas as he also had a grip on his blade's handle.

„Get up, I think Gunvar found something… or someone…. If you see anything, tell me immediately. Stay close to the others—make sure you cover as much space as possible."

Avalon didn't look in the boys direction as he gave a quick order; he didn't need to; Midas was used to brief commands on his travels with Graf—unable to see far outside under the constant pour of the rain.

To his left was Gunvar, his one-handed blade the same size as the ones his men carried, its handle looking small in his palm nonetheless. Looking out at the foggy cliffs that sloped up around them, Midas wasn't able to muster anything potentially lurking in between the pine trunks.

„Midas…!"

The voice belonged to Avalon, and as the youth turned, a broad orange light appeared right in front of him; with quick speed, it hailed down onto him, the boy unable to react to it in time, forcing him to use his right.

Before Midas was able to use stone to counter, his eyes caught a flying blade spinning as it cut right through the flaming ball launched at him; his broadened eyes tracked the blue light that radiated from it—a familiar color. The blade expanded by an amount of water engulfing it.

Unable to grasp how, Midas watched as the spinning blade made its way back to Gunvar, his hand already stretched out to grasp its handle again, his gloved fingers only closing once he felt the sword retrieve to him.

„Heads up...! Enemies incoming...!"

Avalon's command shook Midas awake, his right still held out—ready to be used at any given point. His head scanned hastily through the thick fog that engulfed them before ultimately turning to the carriage again—his eyes picking up a dark silhouette that stood atop the sloped roof of their ride.