Tell me, Stasibel… Why did you take me in all those years ago?

979 AA

Nasition sits idly at a quiet corner of an alley, his stomach grumbling, his clothes filled with dirt. He never knew why he fled from the orphanage. After all, it was a comfortable place. There was a bed, albeit shared between him and another child. There was food, albeit only in measly portions. There were caretakers, who, to be frank, treated them nicely so long as they stayed in line. He had never stepped beyond the tall fences of the orphanage, so naturally, he is now lost, in an irritatingly bright city, so glamorous, yet also so cold. He doesn’t know this place, despite being always on the horizon from the windows of the orphanage. It seems so foreign, the people so big and intimidating. He remembers a tale of a boy who left his home in a fit, only to nearly starve to death before returning in shame. It was probably not a story directed at children like him, but he wonders… Has he become that boy? Will he have to return to the orphanage some day?

“Hey there.” a high-pitched voice calls out to Nasition. To his surprise, in front of him is another child, a young boy, probably, although he’s never seen one with long hair, much like a girl.

“Hello,” Nasition meekly replies. Although the child, his hair messy and sweat running down his neck, seems to be in a similar situation as him, he realizes that they belong in two different worlds. Where he wears an old, patched-up tunic, the child’s clothing is made of a variety of colors, fitted perfectly to his size, covered by an unappealing but lightweight cloak. The wind seems to pass through the fabric, only mildly ruffling it, while Nasition’s own clothing has already been crumpled and beaten by the elements. He guesses this must be what the caretakers call “rich boys”, who live a life of eternal wealth, spoiled by their family, unlike the obedient children of the orphanage.

“Your name?” the child asks.

“Nasition.”

“You ran away from your home too?” the child adds.

“Y-Yes,” he nervously answers. This child, this wealthy “rich boy”, who should’ve been living a life of pleasure, left his home too?

“Ah, then that makes us the same!” the child breaks into laughter, a cheerful, melodic sound reaching into his ears. Although Nasition did not know what is there to laugh about, the simple, authentic grin from the child is enough for him to smile a bit as well.

He seems quite nice. Nicer than all the other children. As the child takes a seat beside him, Nasition feels an unfamiliar sense of warmth, not the sweltering summer heat that almost burns them alive, but the soft, considerate warmth, emitted from within the body. Despite just listening to the child complain about the “hardships” in his life, about the annoying teachers forcing him to do this and that, Nasition does not feel bored by his voice. Rather, he listens attentively to every word the child says, as if they are the dying words of a dear friend. No, no, that’s too dark. It should be like… he doesn’t know how to describe this.

“And you?” the child asks, “Why did you run away?”

“Well… I didn’t feel at home there,” Nasition answers. He doesn’t know the reason, really.

“If that’s all you want to say, then I won’t ask any further.” the child decides, “It’s probably not much different than me, anyways.” He laughs again, although Nasition could sense that, this time, it feels more hollow.

“Wait,” he suddenly realizes, “What’s your name…”

“Stasibel!” a woman’s voice cries out, and the child jolts, as if shocked by an electrical current.

“She’s here!” the child suddenly shrieks in panic, standing up in alert, “Run!” The child grabs Nasition’s arm and begins running, dragging him as they venture deeper into the alleyways. Behind them, they could hear the rapid clicking noises of boots as it contacts the ground.

“Who is that?” Nasition shouts, trying to catch up to the child.

“My teacher!” the child responds, “How did she find me so fast?”

Suddenly, the hood of the child’s cloak is caught, and as Nasition turns around, he sees a woman, her strong arms gripped tightly onto the child’s shoulders. She is not particularly tall or intimidating, yet the child seems to be quite afraid of her.

“Caught you, Stasibel,” she pants, taking rapid breaths, “Took me long enough to find you.”

Stasibel. So that is his name, Nasition realizes. What a strange name.

“A child needs time to run and play around. Didn’t you say that, Ms. Ipela?” Stasibel complains, “I’m just here to have some fun!”

“I also said a child needs to use every moment of his education well, didn’t I?” Ipela smiles, “Come on, Stasibel, your family is waiting.” She turns to Nasition, her face softening, “You should go back to your parents, child. The alleys aren’t very safe for children.”

“Well, I…” Nasition attempts to explain but falls short of words. How can he explain anyways? Perhaps they’ll simply push him back to the orphanage. Well, that wouldn’t be too bad. At least he can remember the brief time here as one of his fun moments.

“I’m not going back,” Stasibel firmly refuses, crossing his arms, “Not unless we bring him… What is your name again?”

“Nasition.”

“Yes, Nasition. I am not going home unless we bring Nasition back as well.” Unlike the more playful attitude earlier, Stasibel stares intently at Ipela, his gaze unwavering.

“Why?” Ipela inquires, “We can’t just take home a person. The boy isn’t a pet or an animal, you should know.”

“He ran away from home too. Didn’t you, Nasition?”

“Well… I came from an orphanage,” Nasition admits.

“What’s your orphanage called? Perhaps we can help you,” Ipela offers.

“I don’t want to go back,” Nasition finds himself saying. He had never said he “wanted” something before. It was always he “would like” something, or perhaps he “doesn’t mind” something, but he realizes… he is already changing, breaking out of the mold.

“You see, Ms. Ipela? He doesn’t want to go back, and you said alleys aren’t safe for children, didn’t you?” The smug smile on Stasibel’s face unnerves Ipela, but she soon relents, releasing her grip.

“I’ll have to talk with your father about this,” she shrugs, “Perhaps Norai would like a new friend as well.” What a bold, assertive child. My education might have been working a little too well.

“Hooray!” Stasibel jumps in joy, “Follow me, Nasition! You’ll have a new home today!”

“Um… where?” Nasition asks shyly.

“Where else? The Paladeia, of course,” Stasibel replies, pointing to a network of floating platforms in the sky, towering above every single building, the clouds wrapping around its perimeter, “The home of the Achien throne, the home of the royal family, and most importantly, my home.”

Nasition could only stare in awe, speechless at the alien “Paladeia” above. The city is such a strange place.

Tell me, Stasibel… Why did you show me such a beautiful world?

981 AA

“Nasition, look!” Stasibel exclaims, “That’s Norai, the other girl our age that I told you about before!” In the distance, a small girl is lying on the carefully maintained grass, staring at the Elyfesta’s light through the slits between her fingers. By her side is a physical book, the brown color on its cover faded. Despite Stasibel’s loudness, she seems to have not heard it, still staring into the empty space.

“Norai? Ms. Ipela’s daughter?” Nasition asks.

“Of course! Who else?”

“How come I have never come across her before?”

It has been two years since Nasition arrived. Compared to his initial reservedness, thanks to Stasibel, he has now grown out of that shell. He has already made many acquaintances, the staff and servants all taking a liking to this new presence in the Paladeia. Even Norivel, Stasibel’s aged father and the King of Achien, seems to have taken a liking to Nasition. The lessons with Ms. Ipela are intense, but he is rapidly learning. Yet throughout this entire time, he has never met the mysterious daughter of Ms. Ipela, a girl known by the name of Norai. Ms. Ipela had always mentioned her daughter, and even Stasibel occasionally brings up her name when they talk. Well, perhaps now is the time when he finally finds out what this “Norai” is like. Let’s hope she is like Ms. Ipela.

He approaches Norai, a sense of nervousness welling up inside him. “H-Hello, I’m Nasition, a friend of Stasibel,” he introduces, “Can I sit here?”

“Well, if you don’t mind sitting next to a girl who is only interested in ancient literature, then please, do make yourself comfortable,” Norai answers elegantly, her words flowing out of her mouth.

Nasition reaches up to Stasibel’s ear. “You said she’s our age, right?” he whispers, “Fourteen years of age? Not thirty?”

“I heard you,” Norai laughs, “Don’t worry, I was just joking around. It’s fun pretending to be a scholar with all the long-winded sentences. Sit down, Nasition, was it?” Somehow, that soft laugh touches his heart, the blood in his body suddenly circulating with greater speed. Although Norai’s voice isn’t particularly special, he feels as if it is the wind, with all its majesty and gentleness, speaking only to him.

“I haven’t seen you before today,” Nasition notes, “You’re quite different from how I imagined you.”

“Did you base your guesses on my mother?” Norai teases, “We share a common interest in books and knowledge. Nothing more, really. Oh, also, I had been keeping an eye on you for some time already.”

“W-What?”

“And I’d say… You have potential,” she points out, “Maybe if I give you some extra lessons, you can catch up to even Stasibel.”

“And become a support to the future rulers?” Stasibel tenses, “No offense to my elder brothers, but I say they are quite lazy, and well… stupid. It’s just that the age gap between me and them is too large, so Father wouldn’t even see me as a possible candidate.”

“Well, it is possible for you to somehow become king,” Norai reassures, “There was this king long ago, I forgot his name, but he was born…”

“Here comes her rambling, Nasi,” Stasibel groans, “If we let her ramble for too long, we’ll have no time to do anything else for the day.”

And ramble she did. Norai, immersed in her own mind and eager to share the vast archives of her knowledge, simply can’t stop talking, her mouth rapidly moving, her words flooding, overwhelming the ears of Stasibel and Nasition. As the Elyfesta begins to dip and the clouds shuffle away from the city, Stasibel finally excuses himself, leaving only Nasition listening to Norai’s voice. However, his ears have long been completely overwhelmed, to the point where they simply shut themselves off, leaving Nasition only staring at Norai’s face. Not that it’s boring, of course. Her widened, excited eyes, like gems shining from her face. Her wavy hair swaying back and forth to the movement of her head. Her mouth beaming with passion, like an orator encouraging her audience. He finds himself mesmerized, caught in her passion, so much so that he finds her simply…

“… Beautiful,” the words trickle out of his mouth.

“What did you say?” Norai pauses, bewildered by that single word.

“You’re… beautiful,” Nasition repeats.

“Thanks,” Norai laughs, “I know. Just don’t say that to a girl you have just met.”

They lie down, watching the birds flutter by, the clouds so near, yet so far, pushed around by the barriers. Time itself seems to slow as they watch the slowly shifting sky. The artificial winds created from within the Paladeia massage the grass, which in turn tickles their bodies.

“In the past two years of safely observing you, I find you like the sky that we’re looking at right now,” Norai raises her hand, pointing upwards, “So calm, yet slowly changing. Your emotions are always like the clouds, predictable in picture but shrouding something within. Sometimes, the clouds depart, leaving you with your genuine feelings. Well, what I’m saying is… the sky is beautiful as well. Like me. Like you.”

“You don’t know me so well,” Nasition rolls away, “We’ve only begun talking to each other today, after all.”

“Ah, but we already find each other beautiful, don’t we?” Norai smiles, “Maybe in appearance only, for now. But I think, maybe, eventually we’ll see more than that.”

Nasition stands, brushing the dirt off his clothing. It’s already so late. “Will you be attending classes with us?” he asks.

“Well, Mother always said I’m welcome there, but I’ll really only come in every once in a while,” Norai answers, “I like burying myself in books, after all. Physical copies, not those imitative digital copies.”

“Goodbye, Norai!” Nasition waves as he walks away from her.

“Goodbye, Nasition!” Norai waves back.

Nasition quickly skips back to his quarters, humming a little tune. He doesn’t know why, but he is in exceptionally high spirits today after being with Norai. The facts she rambled on about should’ve been boring, and to him, they were, yet he still stayed for far longer than anyone could have endured. She’s far nicer than I imagined. Well, maybe all girls of his age are like her. He doesn’t really know. Norai’s the only young girl he has met in the Paladeia, anyway.

“I’m back!” He pushes open the great doors of Stasibel’s mansion, one of many in the large complex of the Paladeia, only to find a Stasibel standing, stunned, in the main hall, surrounded by a small group of unfamiliar faces, dressed in black and their faces concealed by masks.

“Nasition,” Stasibel trembles, turning to face his friend, “My brothers… their servants have come to tell me…”

“What happened?” He hasn’t seen those masks in a while. When he was young, he would often hear of other children dying of sicknesses they had contracted far before they entered the orphanage, and every once in a while, he saw those masks worn by the caretakers as they buried the children. Those masks were far simpler, and likely cheaper, than the ones he sees now, but the feeling, the environment, it is all the same.

“I am now next in line to the throne, Nasi.”

“You mean your two remaining brothers…” Stasibel’s face is unnerving. Nasition senses the grief from Stasibel, but somewhere, he notices a faint, suppressed emotion of relief, joy even, and the anticipation of greater things. Stasibel had already lost his eldest brother before Nasition arrived, and now… How? He can’t even register the swirl of emotions, so confusing to his mind… and frightful.

For the first time, Stasibel scares him.

“Nerulel contracted a fatal illness, and Rainael… was assassinated.” Stasibel stares blankly at Nasition, as if waiting for a response from his equally shocked friend.

“Does this mean that…”

“I will be spending far more time in the Central Hall now,” Stasibel answers sadly, “I can’t play as much as before. Rainael’s servants will now devote their all to serving me instead.”

Not even a word of sadness for his brothers? “Stasibel, can’t you wait a bit? Maybe wait until you become an adult?”

“Sorry, Nasi.” As Nasition stands frozen in place, the masked figures and Stasibel exit the mansion, ignoring his presence. There are no drops of tears, only eerie silence as Nasition finds himself alone again, staring at the grand spaces of the mansion.

It is already night, yet Nasition still stands in the hall, completely silent, waiting for the return of Stasibel. He had forgotten the feeling of loneliness, the void it carves into his body, the emptiness absorbing his energy. Yes, there are servants, but although they are kind people, they cannot fill that void. Maybe Norai, his newfound friend, can help, but he doesn’t even know where she resides. Unwilling to move, he soon lowers his head as he drifts in and out of sleep.

“Who are you?” a voice calls out as a head pops up from one of the inner balconies overlooking the main hall, knocking Nasition out of his trance. As Nasition looks up, he sees a slightly younger boy, perhaps only one year younger than him, but is surprisingly tall, almost to the height of the servants’ doors. From Nasition’s perspective, the boy might as well be a giant.

“Who are you?” Nasition responds. He had never seen the boy before. Perhaps he is a new servant? No, the royal family surely wouldn’t hire minors to clean their mansions… although he is quite big.

“I’m Faresoenn, thirteen years of age,” the boy replies, his loud voice echoing off the walls, “Both my father and mother were guards of King Norivel and former Prince Rainael. They died protecting Rainael, so as a show of respect, the King has allowed me to live here. And although I am nobody right now…” he suddenly reveals a mock sword, raising it towards the ceiling, “I will become captain of the Guard, serving Stasibel until my last breath!” It’s unmistakable. The voice, the personality, the flamboyance, the apparent lack of sadness and grief… It certainly reminds Nasition of the guards, whom he had only met a few times. Although he doesn’t really know them, he noticed they always seem to be following one of the royal family members around.

What a loud child. Nasition raises an eyebrow to the boy’s arrogance. “I am Nasition, fourteen years of age,” he shouts, straightening his back in an effort to make himself taller, “I was an orphan for as long as I can remember, taken in by Stasibel two years ago. I may not be particularly strong or smart, but I am a loyal friend to Stasibel, serving and learning alongside him nearly every day. And it will be I, not you, who will become captain of the Guard!” If he cannot have fun with Stasibel, then he will work for him, serving him as a guard, protecting him from any danger. I will not allow a stranger to take my place.

The two boys stare at each other, an inner fire of passion burning inside. Nasition feels the gap inside closing up, replaced by a flaming will. Unlike Stasibel, he doesn’t mind supporting from the sidelines. However, if he is denied even that role, then what purpose does he have, living off the protection of the royal family?