After that speech everyone went to their seats for the meal. Milo scanned the room, feeling the discussion among the room rather more in-depth than ever.

“Doctor Milo, what’s eating you?”

“Nothing at all,” he smiled, eyes going in the direction of the Elvens.

“I understand how you feel,” he said. “It’s hard to take your eyes off them, no? Legendary as they are, they now walk among us to guide us and I can't blame your eyes for wandering!”

“Hmm, maybe.”

Mayor Solra raised his face. “It seems you aren’t as impressed?”

Milo shook his head. “It’s not that. I am awed by their presence, truly.”

To Milo they were naturally beautiful. They didn’t need alterations to the genes and were simply as beautiful as they were meant to be. Past life, he had seen beauties of caliber, women with striking figures and were able to gather followers, convince them to pay subscriptions without any benefit other than being able to worship their face and body for self-pleasure. The Elven didn’t have the kind of beauty that provokes lust. It’s a beauty that calms and makes you careful. Hoping you won’t ruin it. Another thing was, they have a commanding presence which distorts the very idea themselves. It’s like looking at a tall and beautiful mountain. You can admire it, but rarely, so little are tempted to climb it.

“Have you tried greeting them?”

“I see no reason. Are you?”

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Are you going then, I'd like to see them up close?”

Mayor Solra stood up. Followed by Mrs. Rieta who seemed more eager to talk to the Elvens than the Mayor. The three waited in line as the lines moved slowly, it was finally their turn. Mayor Solra led the greetings and started to introduce everyone.

“Greetings, my ladies. I am Mayor Solra of Arksh city.”

Premier Demaya raised her head. “I’ve heard of you, Mayor. You’ve been holding Arksh city well.” She nodded her head at Mrs. Rieta and then raised a brow at Milo.

“And this is?”

“Doctor Milo Stiv. He’s here to represent the parish community of the god of mercy.”

“A priestly doctor?” Premier Demaya asked genuinely.

Milo shook his head. “I’m merely part of their community. I’m afraid the Parish can’t attend such a conference and send me who has owed them much.”

“Milo…Stiv, a curious name,” said a voice.

Milo followed the voice and met eyes with Lady Erna. Strangely, Milo found his face steady and his eyes remained cool and steady. He thought he'd be quaking in his shoes.

“Milady,” he greeted, head bowed.

Lady Erna stood up and then sang something. Milo followed the sprites dancing around her. Then, the gray sprites, the ones with neutral colors, looked in his direction and danced to him instead of her. Milo observed the Mayor wasn’t able to see it. Premier Demaya and Lady Erna seemed to have followed the lights.

“Are you perhaps of blue blood?”

“Blue blood?” Milo raised head, and then shook it. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I see. Interesting, but it looks like you can see them, but you can’t understand them at all. Deaf and mute to their words.”

“That seems to be the case,” Milo smiled wearily.

“Your bloodline must have been diluted.” Lady Erna’s voice trailed. “You are a Doctor?

“That I am, Miss.”

“I see.” She observed her hair and squinted at his features. There was something that bothered the Lady for a second, but she seemed to ignore it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” She went back to her seat and spoke to the sprites happily.

Premier Demaya coughed a little. “It’s a surprise to find one that can see them even when they’re not revealing themselves.”

“It’s not so special.”

“Perhaps.” Premier Demaya lost interest and turned her attention to the Mayor. Milo stepped on the side. He eyed the bodyguards of the Premier and the Lady. He met eyes with them and strangely, looking at them closer, Milo felt no fear. He disregarded their glare, and eyed their weapons. Unlike them who were using underarm holsters. They carried theirs for the sake of pulling them out immediately.

After Mayor Solra got to talk with the Premier about the state of his city, they bid their goodbye and went back to their table where Mayor Solra seemed to have exhaled all air in his lungs.

“They sure have a presence!” Mayor Solra raised a glass. “I’m impressed, Milo! You didn’t even look worried at all.”

“It’s not that,” Milo said, his mind trailed off.

It was hard to fear when he had seen some things. Even when he’s asleep he could recall the weapons he had seen back in his past life scraping the sky and turning a city full of life into an irradiated wasteland. Or perhaps the fear of death had been lost at him. It was his second life and Milo was somewhat more accepting of what may happen.

Not fearing death didn’t mean he was fearless either. He just thought it was useless to fear what hasn't happened yet. His rational mind also told him as long as he doesn’t do anything to provoke them. Why should he fear?

He’ll be screaming and shouting when he’s fighting. But Milo felt horrible hearing the prospects of war. Considering the history of their world, he thought they should have been wiser. However, he also understood the need to defend themselves.

Still, they could try harder. Talk but not get bullied into compromises. It takes a real statesman to pull them out of this. Being reactionary alone doesn’t save this country and Milo had a feeling it’s not going as easy as he thinks it is. He had no right, he thought. He himself was a reactionary too. But he couldn’t help it when he had tried something like this back in his previous life and died believing in a cause far greater than him.

Milo reasoned out that he had done his best in his past life. That there was no reason for him to continue to be like that. But here he was, a Doctor, traveling miles of road to reach someone.

Milo laughed bleakly at his soul’s stubbornness. Even finding himself in another life wasn’t enough to break the beliefs he held like chains.

As the conference turned party progressed. Milo found himself wandering the venue and blending in with the crowd. Eavesdropping on conversations, and weighing in the overall opinion. It was unsurprisingly favorable to direct intervention. The most opinionated ones wanted to directly send an armed force to remind them who was the major power while the reasonable ones wanted to bring both nations to a table and talk it out.

Politics to Milo was simply what others wanted and how to get it. The process was difficult and elaborate while fundamentally it’s simply the need of an individual or a group. Personal relations, beliefs, and credos usually affect this.

The more he listened. The more Milo wanted to get some fresh air. Thankfully, they gave access to this balcony where they can take in the view of the ocean. A calm breeze and a wonderful sight. It’s no wonder the family of the attendees seems to crowd the balcony.

In every life, Milo found himself envious of kids. Free from deep thoughts, concerns about life. He had not grown normally. But he treasured what he had and surprisingly grew up into a man who’d take a bullet for others. One of the kids tripped and fell. For a while, Milo watched what the kid would do.

He bit his lip and stood up without crying and clenched his face. Seeing this kid stand up despite the bruise on his knee reminded him of something.

“It isn’t about how you fall, alright. It’s about how you stand up again. How could I forget that, brothers? Now I feel foolish.

Milo kneed next to the side and checked out his knee. “Oh, quite a bruise. Hold up, okay?”

“Are you alright, son?”

Milo smiled. “It’ll be alright, Sir. It’s just a bruise. Ah, pardon my manners, Doctor Milo Stiv.”

“Ah, a Doctor, that is good!” the man lowered his shoulders. “Efren Stoley. It seems that all the talk about politics has brought you here, Doctor.”

“Indeed, I guess I found the right place to go.”

Milo tended to the wound. Although he dressed formally, he didn’t forget to bring his first-aid kits on his belt. It was his way of life and he felt better with them around. A medic remains a medic.

“Indeed!” The man carried his son to the bench.

Milo applied an antiseptic for the bruise and covered the wound with gauze. “Brave kid you have. But do be careful and try not to run away, okay?”

“I will!”

“Son, don’t forget to thank the Good Doctor!”

“Thank you!”

The kid ran and joined his new friends. Putting his kit back. The father of the kid remained on the bench. Fingers joined while looking at the ocean and the people.

“This is my first time here. You?”

“Same.”

“I came here because it was going to be all talk about how this should be handled. What the opinions are. Doctor, I admit, I am not so kind to think of just letting them do what they want and threaten us. But I think we shouldn't think too hard about it. Always, seek peace.”

Milo mulled over his words and answered. “Always? Even when they are threatening your family?”

“Maybe. But to assume we have to fight in the first place is pure lunacy. However, I am not so naïve to think it’ll go that way.”

“A sad truth.”

The man took a piece of paper and handed a copy of it to Milo. The paper read that there’s a group hoping to take matters into their own hands and seek out a peaceful resolution and continue the trade. It was newly printed by a printing press, which suggests a lot of it had been printed to be distributed. Milo noticed the scent of ink on it.

“Will this conference affect this?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. But if it comes to it. I might be convinced to join the delegation in hopes to stop this madness they think is worth it.”

Hearing him, Milo felt somewhat ashamed. The man had a moment he clearly dotes on, but he was willing to go further beyond for the sake of his beliefs. He’d call it foolish. Too optimistic to work out and yet the conviction of it reminded him of the ideals he had fought and lived for.

Those who do not protest at the advent of trouble.

Milo squeezed his eyes and then found that terrible resolve once more. A resolve he always had and seemed to share dearly with this body. As if it felt natural to have this resolve.

Milo simply didn’t believe in the idea that ‘one man can’t change anything’ when throughout life he had seen one man make a difference just by simply saying no.

He can’t forget those people. Milo felt disgusted even thinking about letting their ideals die when he himself had survived to live it. And as a Doctor, he can’t stand watching on the sidelines.

“A disease that afflicts me to the end,” Milo muttered.

“Pardon?”

Milo stood. “It was nice meeting you, Sir. I think you let problems like this be on our hands. Someone should man the fort, while we do the gallivanting, no?”

Efren Stoley looked up and saw something in Milo’s eyes and laughed out loud. “Indeed! To think I’d ever thought of it when I’m already this old. Very well, Good Sir. I shall think hard about it. It seems the fire in your eyes is brighter than anyone here and perhaps it’s not so lost after all.”

Somehow, Milo got reminded how he had faced worse and how docile he was. Being in another land, living a second life shouldn’t mean he’d throw his ideals away and just watch.

It was never his thing.

To stand by and watch.

It’s why he once stood on a war-torn beach killing people alone and up-close.

It’s why he crossed wastelands escorting people from dangers until his life was exhausted and his blood spilled on the dirt.

Milo found out today he was still a lost cause as ever.