/ˌdiskəmˈbäbyəˌlādəd/

adjective

HUMOROUS

adjective:

confused and disconcerted.

"he is looking a little pained and discombobulated"

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.

"But why?" Cal Junior asked as he followed his father out of the dining room after breakfast.

Just this morning, he had learned that Cal Senior would be leaving home again to Archambault to prepare a shelter for the people of Seol-il who had been affected by the disaster. That angered Junior. Not only he was disheartened that his father was going away again so soon, but the reason why he was going didn't make sense to him. So Seol-il got hit by a landslide, how was that Angletonia's problem now?

"Why should we care about what those people think about us? They're not our people."

"Their own rulers pay no heed for them, Junior."

"So...? They aren't Angletonians. They're not our people," Junior insisted, a persistent frown remaining on his lips.

Originally, Senior had offered for him to come along due to his reaction the first time he went on duty, but he also told Junior that he intended to introduce him to these 'new people'. He thought that Junior being present by the time of the great-giving would leave a good impression on the people's minds, as the heir. Setting aside the fact that his son was never particularly excited about crowds, to begin with, Junior also failed to understand why the small neighbouring country was suddenly an object of importance.

To build an empire, they must make allies; Junior was aware of that. Powerful allies though, not a feeble, unstable country like Seol-il. Weren't there plenty of other considerable, prosperous countries to build an alliance with?

Senior bent down to meet his eyes, a faint smile forming on his lips. "You like Dr. Jaeyr."

Junior shrugged. "She is an Angletonian."

"What about Adejola?"

"He is a friend of ours and a valuable ally. I don't recall hearing of N'thanda eating out of our hands," he argued.

"We share some of our military resources with Praja."

"We are married to Praja," Junior folded his arms tightly in front of his chest, his eyebrow raised as his father stood back, bemused by his response. Did he really think that he wasn't aware of the differences between these countries? "You can't be serious!"

"I am very serious, Junior," Senior repeated again. "...Fine. If you don't wish to go, you can stay at home with your mother. I'll make sure to telephone you every single day and night, and I will not go to bed before I hear your voice. I'll be back in a week, as promised. Can you live with that?"

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Junior anxiously hung his head low. He knew his father was referring to the incident from last time and he swore that he'd never put Gigi in danger again. "If it is so very important to you..."

"One day, you'll finally understand why I'm doing this," Senior palmed his cheek, leaning down to kiss his head. "Just because you can't see the value, doesn't mean it's worthless. No good cause goes to waste."

"Right." He raised his chin up to meet his father's eyes. "But an empire isn't a charity."

***

Cal Junior paced restlessly around his room as he was getting ready for bed that night. His father was out there being a philanthropist. Not that he would put altruism past his Papa; he had often heard that he inherited that trait from his Grandmére, who was also known for being kind and generous. It wasn't that he thought humanitarian work was bad, the way his father was doing it just felt out of place.

During his Grandpop's reign, they had gained a strong reputation for their military advancement, and now they were... giving out free lunchboxes? He was afraid that his father had lost his cause.

They were supposed to be conquerors, building empires and pushing boundaries. Emilian I didn't defy the religious leaders so they could become saints. Raedan II didn't vanquish the establishment that played a part in his older brother's death only for his great-grandson to be offering their resources to a similar nation.

How the Southerners allegedly played a part in King Maximillian's death wasn't beyond belief now. After that encounter with the man in the woods, a man who shared his middle name, Velius, and bore the crest of the Five Muses.

The reason why he distanced himself from their folktales, and even his powers.

"Are you quite done, Junior? I feel like I could doze off anytime soon," Gigi yawned, curling up on the couch across the room. She had offered to spend the night in his room tonight so he would be less lonely with his father leaving, he couldn't ask for a better mother.

"Mamma, why did you allow Papa to leave? If my begging didn't work, I'd assume yours should." He sprinted over to her, crawling up into her lap.

Gigi laughed, fingers softly ruffling through the dark locks of his hair. "No one can stop your father from reaching toward his ambitions. Believe me, I tried it on my knees once. Now, what should we do to pass the night?"

Pouting, Cal burrowed himself further into her chest. "Well that reminds me, I found a stack of some old letters when they rearranged my room. I suppose they belong to Papa. Wait here, Ma." He hopped off her lap and ran off to fetch an old wooden box. Despite its size, it wasn't very full so he could carry it easily with both hands.

"Let me take a look at those." Gigi grinned, removing the lid of the box to reveal a pile of letters inside. From what it looked like, they were rather old, as some of the papers had turned yellow. Looking at the writing on the envelopes revealed they were indeed addressed to his father.

"I didn't read what's inside the letters, I promise," Cal said. "Aren't those Prajan post stamps? Did any of your family members write to Papa back in the day?"

"I think my father did," Gigi replied calmly, sorting through the envelopes. "And these indeed are his seals..."

"Since you're my mother now, does that mean that the King of Praja is also my grandfather?" Cal asked though he wasn't getting a response as the air around her had changed. She froze; a small piece of paper sitting in her hand. "Mamma, what's wrong?"

"N-Nothing! It's just... I think I just found one of my old writings. I lost it when I was young and I didn't think that I would find it here. Never you mind."

"Really? What was it about?" He peered at the paper. "Oh, it's in Anglese! Did you learn languages since you were young, Mamma? Wicked, that makes both of us!"

Suddenly, Gigi placed her palm on his shoulder, as if pleading for him to stop. "Junior, I think I'm not feeling well tonight. May I rest in my room?"

"...Of course." He blinked, staring at her, bewildered as she landed a kiss on his temple before heading for the exit, the wooden box clutched tightly in one arm. "Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Junior," she paid him a small glance before disappearing behind the door.

Cal threw himself into bed, staring at the ceiling. What was that...? Getting 'sick' and 'feeling unwell' was usually something the adults said when there was something wrong, but he couldn't make out why seeing her own writing would make her feel bad. Guess he would just have to cope with missing his father alone, then, or just doze off. But he chugged a little too much coffee when he snuck into the kitchen that afternoon because he was anticipating a reading marathon with his Mamma.

Bummer!

Flipping onto his stomach, he paused to take a look around his room. The radiant, rock-crystal chandelier had its light dimmed down, so the empty corners of the room remained dark and only the small bedlamp remained. His father's belongings had been taken out and transferred to their new bedroom. Did it really look a lot larger and emptier without his father sharing the same space, or was he just feeling a void because everyone else was gone?

He smiled to himself. Maybe he was lonely. It was uncanny to think that a person like him could ever feel lonely. Perhaps even he could use some company sometimes.

Stretching his arms over his head, he started rolling to one side of the bed and then the other. He wouldn't be able to do this when Papa was around. Not like he didn't try, he did enjoy rolling around in bed and making his father make funny noises every time he squashed over his body. The expression Papa made when he scolded him was hysterical.

Flip. Bed. Flip. Roof. Flip. Bed. Flip... Hazel eyes?

Cal fell out of bed with a thud and a loud groan.

"Hello. Sorry for leaving without words last time. How are you?" Fate, the strange magical girl who kept popping in and out of his life, gazed down upon him as he rubbed his head in pain. Her cat hopped onto the bed by his side.

"Fate, you're alive!" Cal rushed toward her, almost tearing up from happiness. But his hands just went through her again, like last time. "When you didn't come for weeks I thought they'd got you too!"

Fate was bewildered. "Thank you, but who got me?"

"There's a man in the woods, with a crest similar to yours. He was going to take me away! He almost killed my mom!" Cal screamed hysterically.

"Wait, I thought you didn't have a mother?"

Cal sat down with her and started to tell the tale, starting from his father's marriage, to his newfound friendship with Gigi, right up to the incident in the forest and the man with the two stars burnt on his crest.

"So, your father's moved into another room? No wonder I haven't seen him around, good for you," she jested after he ended his story.

"I am trusting you with the details of my personal life and that's the part you decided to focus on?" he pouted.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't miss that one." Fate snickered. "Alright, so do you know the tales of the Five Muses?" Cal nodded. "So this man in the forest, you said he wore the same crest as mine but with two burnt stars? He must be amongst the bad side; people who worship the traitors."

"By traitors, you mean Xero and Megis?"

"No!" Fate shrieked, making him jump. "I don't know what you've been reading, but you're on the wrong side of history. The trio were the traitors. They were so greedy they wished to subjugate the whole world. Xero and Megis— our muses, they tried to do their best to take care of what's entrusted to them."

"So... Irosa, Delphini and Meto; they are...?"

Fate's face tightened at the mention of their name; almost like how his Grandmére would react if she heard someone say a curse word in his presence. "We do not speak of them. Any mention of their names is a disgrace to the Divine Pair."

So the Southern Islands worshipped the trio, the traitors. That made him feel glad that he didn't tell her that the man's name was Velius. Sharing a name with an alleged traitor-worshipper wouldn't make him look good in her eyes. If he did have a connection to this Velius, it was pure coincidence.

"So, you're on the other two's side...?"

"The true side," she declared with pride.

"But what am I gonna do? They hurt my mother. I think I should've retracted from this world, I am just a kid."

"So you're gonna give up just like that? What if they come after you again?"

"If I stay away long enough, hopefully they won't find me."

"Think about it this way. If you learn to wield your powers properly, you can protect your family," Fate suggested.

Using his powers to protect his family; Cal liked the sound of that.

"By the way, my time here is almost up. My mother should be pulling me back anytime soon. I'm glad you have a mother now. It was a nice talk. And don't you dare yell at me again."

"That's so soon, you just got here!" Cal pleaded.

Fate picked up Bast, who had been napping on Cal's bed. "You spent the last two hours telling your story. But my mother's workload has lessened these days, so she's able to make more time to help me see you. I feel so bad having to make her stay up late after work."

"W-We conversed for that long...?" He glanced at the clock. It was almost ten.

"Fate," he called out as she was just about to leave. "The remaining two islands... that's where you live isn't it?"

"Hypothetically, yes."

"Can you tell me where it is in the world?"

Fate gave him a brilliant smile. "Well, it snows there once in a hundred years."

.·。.·゜·༺♥༻ ·゜·。.