"As instructed, the wagons have left for the warehouse, Marquis."
Drake spoke to the golden gemstone on his nightstand. He was in the attic of the inn which was his bedroom as well; it had a low sloping ceiling, an old wooden door, and a square-shaped glass window whose frame had gotten rusty over the years.
It was cramped and... suffocating.
From where he sat at the edge of his single bed, Drake looked up and out of the window. It was the break of dawn.
The sun rays were starting to sprout from the horizon, forcing the darkness of the night to flee, and Drake thought something.
'Will I too stand into the light once again?'
"Did you inspect the products?"
Those words made Drake scowl, and he leaned back into the darkness of his room, hiding himself from the light that could have blessed him.
Products.
Oh, how he loathed that word.
"We can't have our client disappointed once again! Magic flows in Rehalians' blood. They are worth more than a diamond's mine. Do you understand? It's my money that is on stake here!"
"Tch!"
Disgust filled Drake.
"Do not forget who is feeding you and that worthless family of yours!"
Disgust towards his own self.
"...I understand, my lord."
The gemstone's glow began to fade, and silence took over the room.
Rehala.
A kingdom to the east of the Kaliken empire. It was a land blessed with magic; prosperity and peace prevailed over the land that was twice the size of Kaliken.
Silk, spices, jewels. It had a culture brimming with diversity and peculiarities. Unlike Kaliken who worshipped their gods in the White Temple, Rehalians followed no religion, but they practiced magic instead.
Something that was forbidden in Kaliken.
For centuries, the two neighbours had maintained peaceful relations; owing to the Rehalian magic council and its head- the Great Mage.
But peace is a fragile thing.
Very fragile.
It broke ever so easily, and what it brought upon Rehala was nothing, but destruction and...death.
The Hundred Days War.
That was what the history books called that time when the Kaliken empire and the kingdom of Rehala had gone to war with each other.
It was magic against divine powers.
The magic council against the White Temple.
Nobody knew what exactly brought upon that conflict, but everyone knew what it led to; the end of Rehala.
The land once hailed as the largest kingdom on the continent had been reduced to one fourth of its former size.
It was then that a ceasefire was established, and Kaliken showed the mercy of letting Rehala live.
A new Rehalian king ascended the throne, and the kingdom began to breathe once again.
But they were short and careful breaths; shaking with the fear of crossing the new master of the continent; the great Kaliken empire.
A land is by its people, and Rehala's people were hunted down, and enslaved. Even after hundred of years, the chains of enslavement could not be broken. Drake knew that so painfully well.
He looked at his palms, and like every single day, he cursed himself for being someone responsible for Rehalians' misery.
His hands were dirty.
It was a beggar boy.
Drake looked down at the sleeping boy who was curled up beside the inn's back door. He frowned, and lifted his hand to turn off the lamp that stood over the door's frame.
It was cold outside in the alley, and the boy hugged his knees closer to his chest. He seemed no older than five years. His dark black hair reached past his shoulders, and his sleeping face was as dirty as the wood-colored shirt of his.
"Hey, boy."
Drake muttered, and bent over with an intention to shake the boy from his slumber, and shoo him away, but his eyes fell upon the cuts on his bare knees, and he stopped his hand.
"Tch!"
He had a perplexed expression on his face as he retreated his hand.
"Don't blame me if you freeze to death, boy."
He said to the oblivious boy, and went inside the inn. The door's handle had yet to come to rest when it rattled once again.
The door opened.
"What a pain!"
Contrary to his words, Drake took off his vest, and spread it over the boy. He watched as the lad hugged the warmth of the fabric.
Drake felt a strange sorrow wash over him, and he clenched his jaw before getting inside the inn for real that time.
The boy was there the next morning as well; sleeping on Drake's doorstep. He had folded the vest, and had placed it beside his head.
"You returned it?"
Drake picked up the vest, and felt the dampness of the fabric.
'He has washed it...'
He crouched down beside the boy, and looked at his hands that were grabbing the front of his shirt. The tips of his fingers were red, and small scratches littered his skin.
He really had washed the vest before returning it.
"How... untainted."
The last word was muttered after some thought, and one could tell from the sad expression on Drake's face that he had said something valuable.
Once again, he took off the vest he was wearing, and covered up the boy.
'He's cold. Maybe I should carry him inside-'
He bit his lip. His thoughts made him feel like a... hypocrite.
He got up, and rushed inside as if running away from something. Slamming the door shut behind him, he leaned against it. He grabbed his hair with both his hands, digging his fingers in the skin of his scalp.
'What a hypocrite I am...'
He brought his hands down, and stared at his clean palms.
They were dirty.
It was a white lily.
The flower was placed on top of his folded vest. Drake looked around the alley for any sign of that boy. A rustling sound from the shadows caught his attention.
"I know that you are there. Come out."
"Eep!"
'Not so stealthy, are you?'
The boy stepped out of the shadows, and took small, hesitant steps towards him. He was bare feet like the past two days, and the cuts on his knees had only increased in number.
"Why have you gotten more injured?"
The words had slipped out before Drake could filter them. The day before, he had decided not to indulge himself in the boy's affairs anymore.
Well, what could be done now.
Standing a feet away from Drake, the boy lifted his head. His long hair hid half of his face, and Drake could not tell what the color of his eyes was.
"I got in a fight."
"Why?"
"They wanted your vest."
"Then, you should have given it to them."
"No!"
He yelled, and Drake felt himself startled.
"Why not?"
"It's yours."
"Is that why you have returned it?"
He nodded, his hair bouncing along with his head.
"Why did you wash it?"
"I stink. I can't let your clothes smell bad."
His reply was short, but Drake could feel the certainty behind his words. That boy knew that he was filthy, and...worth nothing.
'Can I?'
Drake asked himself, before bending over and taking off his sandles. He held them out towards the boy.
"What?"
"Take them."
"No! How can I-"
"Will you not repay me for my vest?"
The boy was at lost of words. Drake knelt down on the dirty ground, and placed the sandles down in front of the boy's feet. The boy hesitatingly put his feet inside them, and Drake fastened their straps.
They were big for his feet, but at least, he would not get his soles scraped anymore.
'Can I do what I believe is right?'
Drake thought once again.
"What's your name, boy?"
"I don't have one."
"What do others call you then?"
"Beggar. Filthy boy. Lowlife. There are more but I don't know how to say those words. They are long and hard."
The boy tapped his feet, admiring his new shoes with a carefree smile on his face.
"Damned bastards."
Drake cursed lowly.
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Where did you picked that lily from?"
"Lily?"
The boy tilted his head to side.
"What's a lily?"
Drake pointed over at the flower.
"That flower. It's called a white lily."
"Oooh. Lily, huh? Hehe. I didn't know."
The boy giggled, showing his small milk teeth.
"It grows in the corner of the alley behind the toy's shop."
"The toy's shop?"
"Yes! There are so many toys there!"
With a grin on his face, the boy stretched his arms out wide.
"I go there to sleep under its window."
"Why?"
"I don't like the dark, and the lights there are so pretty."
"Are they?"
Drake asked. The delightful expression of the boy was making him feel at ease as well.
'Is happiness contagious?'
"Yes! But they are gone now."
The boy pouted.
"Gone? Is the shop closed?"
The boy shook his head.
"I don't know. I hate the dark."
"So you came to sleep outside my door."
"Sorry."
Drake lifted his hand.
"I will not do so-"
Drake patted his head, and the boy went quiet as he stared down at his sandles.
"Come sleep here every night."
Sniffle.
"And don't lose your shoes. The ground is cold."
Sniffle.
The boy brought his palm up from his side, and rubbed his eyes.
Sniffle.
"...Eren. Can I call you that?"
The boy removed his hand, and Drake was finally able to see the color of his eyes.
They were as blue as a clear sky.
Isn't sky just magnificent? It's vast and...free. Do you not feel like reaching out your hand to that freedom when the world is suffocating you?
"Eren. I like it."
The boy smiled.
So, Drake reached out, and grabbed his own freedom. He wrapped his cold and dirty arms around the warmth of the boy's untainted and pure body.
Eren's stomach grumbled, and a chuckle escaped Drake's lips. It surprised even himself.
"Are you hungry?"
"No! It wasn't me."
But his stomach grumbled once again, throwing his lie out of the window. Drake got up from the ground, and carried the boy up in his arms.
"What do you like to eat, Eren?"
"Oranges! Many, many oranges!"
"You do like them a lot, huh?"
Eren nodded. Drake leaned down a bit to pick up the vest, and the flower.
"Can I sleep outside tonight?"
Drake looked at him for a moment.
"You can sleep inside, you know."
"No, no."
He shook his head, making his hair fall all over his face. Drake brushed his hair out of his face, and tucked them behind his ears.
"Why not?"
"It is not mine."
"What? The house?"
"Yes. I'll sleep outside. Just don't turn off the door's light."
"But the light's broken."
"What?"
Eren looked up at the lamp that stood above the door's frame.
"It looks fine..."
'Then I'll just have to break it.'
"Is it really broken?"
"Yes."
Drake crossed his fingers behind his back.
"It is. So you'll have to sleep inside."
"Oh."
Drake opened up the door, and found Bran standing in the hallway.
"Oh, there you-"
He looked at Drake, and then at the boy in his arm who was wearing Drake's sandles.
"Who is he, Drake?"
Eren leaned into Drake's chest, hiding away from the big, scary man who was staring at him. Drake frowned upon seeing Eren scared, and glared at his brother-in-law.
"Don't scare my son, Bran!"
"I haven't - What? Your son!"
Drake walked past him, ignoring his remarks. Eren peeked over Drake's shoulder, and at the man who was at lost of words after hearing Drake.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Drake stopped in his track.
"You can't just adopt a son."
Bran reached him, and grabbing his shoulder, forced him to turn towards him.
"We are not... normal, and you know that, Drake. Now, let the boy go."
Bran stretched out his arms for Drake to hand over the child.
"He'll be better off with someone else, or even alone...This place is hell..."
Eren looked up at the man who had called him his son.
'It felt so warm.'
He thought to himself, and snuggled against his chest. He wanted to enjoy that warmth while he still could.
"Bran...I hate myself."
Silence followed his words.
"I have seen humans beg for mercy, and I haven't done anything to save them."
"You could not."
"I know! I know, and I curse myself for that!"
He yelled, and Eren flinched in his arm. Drake hugged him close to himself, and clenched the back of his shirt into his fist.
"Drake..."
"For one last time, Bran..."
Drake looked at him; his sad eyes begging Bran.
"Let me do what I believe is right."
Eren's lips mumbled something.
"I won't let...you catch...him..."
"Your stubbornness will get you killed today. Why do you poke your nose in adult's business?"
Kumar watched as the tip of Eren's lips curled up a little. Eren lifted his head, and looked Kumar into the eyes.
"Why? Because I'm Drake's son."
He whispered, and the hair on Kumar's nape stood on their ends.
"I do what I believe is right."