Olivin clicked his pen over and over again. The echo of the button rang out through the empty room, bouncing off the expensive walls and landing back onto his ears. No matter how strong he got, his eyes, his ears and his senses in general never seemed to differ. He was thankful for that at least. Who knows how annoying it would be to hear everything? Olivin could think of a few Wheels that could help with that, but he banished the thought and armed himself once more with his pen.

All these papers, all this preparation, and for what? A celebration he himself was dreading? He glanced at his calendar as the coming month was only a day away. After a few minutes of unfocused reading and signing, Olivin couldn’t bear it any longer and had to stand up. He shuffled the remaining leaves into a messy pile and held them down with his pen. He creaked his back and took off his shoes, then burst open onto his balcony. The cold chill of the air was no longer a problem to his body. So, he leaped.

He took off from the ground in a blur, flying a hundred or so meters into the air with a lazy motion. His hands wafted through the air and he took in the sensation. His strength was no substitute for true flight, but just the few moments of bliss he spent in the air were enough for him to calm himself. He landed on grass and felt it being smashed apart by his strength. Then he took off again.

****

Olivin felt the calmness in the wind as he ran past the other boys. He was the fastest of them all, even given his young age. He tired himself out on the field and had to sit down. He took in the sights of his village, drinking in the daylight that was devoid of clouds.

“Hey, that’s my seat,” came a voice from behind Olivin. He looked over and saw some slightly older boys staring him down. The one who was front and center was a dark-skinned boy with a wide frame and curly hair. He wore a dirty red shirt half tucked into his pants and looked scary to Olivin.

“Oh, sorry,” he told them and stepped back. He slipped on a foot held in front of him and fell face first onto the grass. His annoyance was greater than his pain. He heard the other boys laughing and running away. The boy with the red shirt led them, snickering along with them. That would be his first encounter with Vinal. He never would have thought that Vinal would grow to be one of his closest companions.

****

He repeated the process several times, sometimes looking off in different directions to take in the scenery. His castle was a magnificent bastion placed in a beautiful field. Away from it, numerous lights shined in the night, providing a glimmering landscape for him to take in. It was in this state that he didn’t notice a flock of birds flying near him. His body halted one of those birds in its flight, forcing it to make an abrupt landing.

Olivin himself landed nearby and hurried over to the injured creatures. He kneeled down next to the bird, examining its broken wing. “Sorry, little flier. It seems in my awe, I failed to take notice of your presence.”

Olivin grimaced. Could he not just have one pleasant moment to himself without being responsible for something? He glanced up at the flock, watching as they left the injured bird behind. “In a certain way, you and me are alike,” he spoke to it.

The bird tried its best to scurry away from Olivin, in spite of its badly damaged wing. No amount of therapy would be able to make it be able to fly as it once did. Luckily, Olivin utilized some supernatural means most didn’t have access to. He unstopped the cap of his canister and stared down into it. He took out a small glob of it and held it in front of him. He held the bird softly in his other hand and encased the wing in water.

A normal Cooler wouldn’t be able to reverse the state of something, only speed up its natural regenerative ability. Olivin, however, was a Resurger. He watched as the bird’s wing moved around, before its bones started cracking back into place. The feathers straightened out, the grass from it moving away. Olivin dispersed the rest of the water and set the bird back down. It inspected its wings a few times, folding and unfolding it to make sure that it was actually back in shape instead of an illusion. It looked at Olivin for a second before taking off and trying to catch up with the rest of its flock.

At least you were able to return to your flock.

Olivin watched it leave to make sure he had done his job correctly, then put the stopper back onto his cylinder of water and resumed jumping through the air. He landed back onto his balcony shortly, being careful not to damage the ground as he did. The strength that he called upon to create his feats was more of a reserve that he tapped into rather than a natural part of his body. He felt the smooth stone under him as he pushed the doors in and entered back into his room.

When he did, his eye caught on the paper strewn about haphazardly, along with a suspiciously absent. Olivin let out a soft curse. I should have kept Lawbringer close, he thought to himself. Olivin didn’t bother to pick up his shoes. He softly stepped around his room, looking in every direction to make sure nothing moved out of the corner of his eye.

The sound of soft footsteps broke the silence. Olivin kept some of his water at the ready, his arm glowing as he utilized his Wheel to do so. The man who walked in didn’t merit any worry, however. It was just Olivin’s butler holding a tray.

His butler cocked an eyebrow at him, causing him to put the water back into its canister. “Sir, are you well?” he asked. Olivin cleared his throat and answered. “As always, Arinal. Why would I not be?”

Arinal set the tray down on the table and glanced at the mess of papers. “I assume you are taking time off from your stressful schedule to appreciate your fine new carpets personally?” he asked while pointing to Olivin’s feet.

“Ah…yes, I was,” Olivin said. He walked up to his butler and took his cup of steaming tea. “We might have an intruder, Arinal. Grab the maids and find a secure location. Do not cause any panic. I want any advantage I can get on our unwelcome guest.”

Arinal tightened up a bit but still asked, “Are you sure, sir? Perhaps it was some heavy wind. I don’t thin-”

“Entertain an old fool’s request, Arinal.” Coming from Olivin, that was quite ironic. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but you didn’t get to be Olivin’s age without a few paranoid habits popping up. He put his tea down and his boots on, before finally opening the door leading out into the hallway of his castle.

****

After a few hours of scouring through the castle, Olivin hadn’t found anything or anyone out of the ordinary. He was sure to have checked almost every room, although he couldn’t be sure. He asked Arinal to take a head count and everyone was accounted for.

Olivin still had a nagging feeling that something was off. He retired to his bedchamber and was about to drift off to sleep when Arinal knocked on it. At least he was following courtesy this time instead of simply walking in. Olivin let him in and Arinal began talking as soon as he could.

“Sir, I think your suspicions were correct. One of the maids went to check up on the relics and found the blade to be missing,” he said in a worried tone.

Vinal’s blade? Oh no. Olivin dashed past his servant, abandoning any notion of regality he had and tried to get to that room as quickly as possible. If the blade was taken, who knew what other trinkets would have been stolen.

It wasn’t so much of a worry about what it could do in the hands of men. Vinal’s blade was more of a trinket given to Olivin by a dear friend of his. It was a simple steel sword, polished and maintained by professionals that Olivin had hired. It was a testament to his old life, one he sorely missed, along with the people who had populated it.

Of course, some thief would take it. He’d had to deal with a number of gentleman thieves in his time, people who considered plundering from the great Olivin Firilton, king of Jonzu, to be a worthy reward itself, cementing them in history as icons.

As he dashed, he thought about Vinal himself, strong, stalwart. He’d tried to emulate those qualities of himself in his rule, presenting himself as a strong figure. Sometimes the mask cracked however, and people got to see the real Olivin, a man lost in time, without his friends to guide him.

Olivin thought about his other friends, the things they had entrusted to him, Zavja, kind but strict. Jiji, mischievous but honourbound. Exinal, his brother, his betrayer. Years of distance had dulled any ill feelings he harboured for them, leaving on the affection he had for them.

Once he finally reached the room, he pulled the door open, accidentally breaking off the hinges. He winced at the mistake he made but had no time for it. Walking inside, he realized what Arinal had said to be true. The carefully maintained displays that extended before him, the beautifully carved statues and painted walls, all of those did nothing to hide the fact that the blade of his dear friend had been stolen by some glory seeking hound.