Fen had decided on a plan: to reach Phoelles before Autumn’s Eve, and sign into the Akademia as a student. It still had some perfecting to do, but it was a starting point. First, reach Phoelles, then figure the rest from there. And if the poem was any indication, the Akademia was the first place to go.

Her main priority was to waste as little coin as possible. One thing was clear, she had a limited fund. So she had to save as much as possible, and if it could be done, find a way to gain an income. Another part of the plan consisted of her finding a job.

In order to save as much as possible, she had to get a Full Scholarship in the Akademia. This meant that tuition and living expenses could be one weight off her shoulder. But from what her father had told her, it would not be easy. Fen had to show the Akademia her knowledge. If what her father had told her was true, she qualified as a Second Year student. That might be a good bargaining point.

If her father lived, he could have written a recommendation letter, which made the whole process easier. But again, if her father lived, she wouldn’t be doing all of this. Her father… dead.

No Fen, she told herself, eyes closed. Focus.

She left her seat to wander around her home. Her home! What was she going to do with it? Maybe burn it down, cut all attachments from this place. She didn’t know when she’d return here. Perhaps, she would never return. But this was her home. The place where she grew up, where she spent all her life. She could never bring herself to do it. She could talk with one of the neighbouring farms, reach an agreement where they could look after the place.

Fen stopped by her father’s bookshelf. Taller than her, and five times wider, it was stacked with books of every topic. She couldn’t possibly bring them all with her. The Akademia had its library, but these were hers. She had to have her own.

She fetched a leather pack and her side bag. Best to travel as lightly as possible. But better carry everything I could possibly need there. Paper, quill and some bottles of ink, another change of clothes. I’m going to spend all winter there, Fen realized, I should pack something warm.

All winter there. The farthest she had ever been away from her home was the village, and she only went for the day. Now she was willing to cross half of the Empire to reach Phoelles. And she had no idea when –if– she would return.

But this time there was no one waiting for her here. She was alone, her father was dead.

Stop it.

Fen remembered what the Andaaran trader had told her. If she wanted to reach Phoelles sooner, she could go to Baysend. Get on a ship there, and travel through the Great Bay. It was without a doubt faster than doing an all round way trip through the Empire. But she had to save as much as possible. She had time. Autumn still was over two months away. Phoelles had its share of travellers, perhaps she could join a group making its way there. Travel to Baysend, she thought, then to Phoelles through the Bay-side road.

* * *

For the following days, Fen busied herself with the preparations. She spoke to a farmer from nearby who was willing to take care of her home, in exchange for tools and land. Fair enough trade, considering how she did not know when she would return. She hid the books though. Those were valuable, and she would want them back someday. Not all of the books; she’d pack some. She intended to study during her travels, and they would be handy once she reached Phoelles.

She had food for the journey. Smoked meats, bread, dried fruit, nuts; things that could last for the journey and more.

Fen decided to bring her father’s rings with her. With a leather cord, she let them hang from her neck. She was out of practice on her mental arithmetics and calculus, but balancing could be helpful. Her father had taught her those techniques; how to solve the balancing equations in her mind, with as little error as possible, to do shifts in self-defence.

Her father used to challenge her to solve the equations in her head. They would compete over who could solve exponentials and logarithms faster and with the least error. Once he had told her the purpose for those games, she saw them in a different light. But she never thought there would come a time when she had to apply those techniques.

Fen also prepared a small pouch filled with every crystal that lay in her home. Many she knew how to use as tools, and if the need arose, she could sell them.

She packed her father’s notebook. There were still many things she didn’t understand, but she knew she could solve the mysteries within the poems. Whatever lay hidden within the texts, it would help her investigation. They better help. If not…

Morning sun peeked through the jagged horizon, and Fen was ready to leave. She hadn’t realized she was done. But when there were no more tasks at hand, she knew it was time. Taking a deep breath, she exited her home.

Fen took one last look at her home. It was hard. Saying goodbye to her life. Leaving her home, her past, behind. But she had no choice. Fen was determined to find her father’s killer. Wait! One thing remained undone.

It had once become routine to go straight to her father’s grave after waking up. But this time it was different. She stomped all the way to the grave. It surprised her to find that some grass was beginning to grow over the dirt.

She hesitated for a few times, words stuck in her throat, eyes slowly watering. His corpse came to her mind. Then his notebook, then his voice, and his smile.

“You know Da, I would have liked it if you had told me more about your life.”

Silence.

“Guess you can’t do that anymore.”

A soft breeze swept by.

“Well, guess you gave me no choice. I now have to piece it out myself.” She sniffed. “Your poems are terrible, by the way. The rhymes are forced most of the time. And… and… I can barely understand what you mean.”

Fen tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a whimper. “I don’t know what you were trying to hide in there, but I would have liked if you had told me yourself.”

Some birds sang in the early morning light.

“I am going to Phoelles now. I’m not sure when I’ll return. Yes, I know. You want me to stay. But it is your fault, you hear me? Your fault! For leaving me all of a sudden. For not telling me anything.”

Leaves rustled in the wind. She turned around, not wanting to face the grave. The rising sun now warmed her face.

“Da, I just…” Fen sighed. “I miss you. So I’m off to chase your ghost. Or whatever you mean in your poems.”

She hesitated for a time, reluctant to say the words. But she set her jaw, looking towards the jagged horizon. There was no turning back now. It was time to seek the answers she wanted. Fen glanced at her father’s grave one last time.

“Goodbye, Da.”

One step after another, she made her way towards the road.