Aedhira stared at Miyu's frozen expression, her mouth slightly ajar like she was grappling with a revelation she didn't quite know how to process. In truth, he didn't know much about her at all. But as his gaze shifted slightly to the right of her stunned face, the flashing blue words in his vision read [GALANIS MIYU] in bold, obnoxiously bright letters. The Traveler's System was doing its job, offering a subtle nudge that she was like him—or at least similar.
She clearly couldn't see it, though. If she could, she'd probably have said his full name by now, which was honestly a mouthful he avoided mentioning whenever possible.
The silence stretched, becoming awkward. Aedhira finally broke it with a casual shrug and a mildly smug expression.
"You said you were looking for me. Didn't you think I'd know who you are?"
Miyu blinked. Twice. Her brain was clearly running overtime, but no sound came out of her mouth. That was fine by him. He turned on his heel and began walking, confident she'd follow. Sure enough, he heard hurried footsteps catching up behind him.
In hindsight, he thought, when things were hard to explain, it always paid to act like the mysterious, enigmatic guy who totally had all the answers. Let people fill in the blanks for you—it saved energy.
The walk was quiet for a while, which didn't bother Aedhira. He had plenty on his mind, and he didn't feel the need to fill the air with pointless chatter. But Miyu... not so much.
The silence was eating her alive. Her eyes flicked between her now-empty bowl of Xar'qul and Aedhira's back. Her lips pressed together, like she was trying to keep herself from blurting out whatever questions were clawing at her insides.
Finally, she caved.
"Where are we going?"
Aedhira glanced over his shoulder, his expression calm but with that faint, amused smile that always seemed to linger on his face.
"Due to… unforeseen circumstances," he said cryptically, "we'll only be at Fort Blanche for about two weeks. Most likely less."
Miyu's brows furrowed.
"Two weeks? That's it?" she asked, the incredulity clear in her tone. "We've been on the run from the Horde for months. Bouncing from one abandoned wreck to another. This place actually has food, water, and shelter. Why only two weeks?"
Aedhira stopped walking, turning just enough to glance at her.
"It's complicated," he said. "And I'd rather explain it all at once instead of repeating myself a dozen times."
She crossed her arms, not entirely satisfied with the answer but unwilling to push too hard.
"Explain it to who, exactly?"
Aedhira turned back to the hallway ahead.
"Bearof," he said simply.
Miyu blinked again, clearly caught off guard.
"Oh," she muttered. Then, more to herself than to him, "Well... that makes sense, I guess."
They walked in silence after that, Miyu still clutching her empty bowl and spoon like a child who didn't know what to do with themselves after being caught stealing cookies. Aedhira didn't say anything, letting the sound of their footsteps fill the space as they entered the main hall.
The place was a patchwork mess of make-shift tents, cobbled together from surprisingly high-quality fabric that Aedhira recognized as part of the fort's original stock. Beds that should've been bolted to their respective rooms had been unceremoniously ripped out and shoved into these makeshift shelters. The sight of it should've hurt—a lot.
He could practically feel the penny-pincher demon clawing at his subconscious, begging him to scream at the absurd waste of resources. But Aedhira forced it down, chaining and locking it up in the furthest dungeon of his mind.
"It's all good," he muttered under his breath, adopting the mantra of a long-dead merchant-focused Traveler from the 998 memories. "You just have to find someone else to squeeze the money out of."
The mantra helped. Barely.
They moved further in, navigating the chaotic scene that somehow resembled a prehistoric village. Someone had set up a fire pit in the corner. People were boiling water, mending clothes, and cooking. It was as if the group had collectively decided to play house in the most primitive way possible, ignoring the towering metal walls and the state-of-the-art vented roof keeping the temperature just right.
Aedhira's eyes landed on a man hunched over a bucket, scrubbing clothes with the kind of focus that suggested either pure misery or deep, cathartic daydreaming. His face screamed "I hate my life," and Aedhira wondered where the bucket had even come from.
Shaking his head, Aedhira walked up, Miyu trailing awkwardly behind him. He stopped a few steps away, tilting his head slightly.
"Hey, laundry guy," Aedhira called casually. "Where's Bearof?"
The man didn't react at first, so absorbed in his task it was as if Aedhira hadn't spoken.
"Excuse me," Aedhira tried again, louder this time.
The man jolted like someone had poked him with a live wire. His head whipped up, and he squinted at Aedhira with the kind of expression reserved for someone waking up from a particularly irritating nap.
"Who are you?" he asked, his tone borderline rude.
Miyu stifled a small, relieved sigh behind Aedhira. Clearly, she wasn't the only one thrown off by Aedhira's current appearance. The short teenager in a hoodie and crocs didn't exactly scream "leader" or "hero."
Aedhira didn't flinch at the man's tone. Instead, he repeated his question.
"I'm looking for Bearof."
The laundry guy set down the shirt he was scrubbing and stretched his neck, standing up to his full height. He loomed over Aedhira like a bear trying to intimidate a cub, his posture screaming confrontation.
"Look, brat," he said, voice low and gruff. "I'm not in the mood to deal with kids today. So why don't you shove off so I can finish this up and shove off too?"
Miyu's eyes darted nervously between the two, her spoon clinking softly against her empty bowl as her grip shifted.
Aedhira, however, didn't look fazed in the slightest. If anything, he seemed amused. His lips curled into a small, lopsided smirk as he crossed his arms.
"Well," he said, his tone light but carrying an edge. "That's a shame. Because I'm in the mood to find Bearof, and you're going to tell me where he is."
The man's jaw tightened. He leaned forward slightly, his bulk making the space between them feel even smaller.
"And if I don't?"
Aedhira's smirk didn't falter. He tilted his head, meeting the man's glare with an unnervingly calm gaze.
"Then I'll assume you've got something against Bearof. And considering how grumpy you already look doing laundry, I'd hate for word to get around that you're shirking your duties."
The laundry guy blinked, clearly taken aback by Aedhira's audacity. For a moment, he looked like he might explode. But then he exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath.
"Fine," he grumbled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "Last I saw him, he was over by the storage units. Probably arguing with someone about rations."
Aedhira gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Thanks, laundry guy. Keep up the good work."
He turned on his heel and started walking, Miyu scrambling to follow. Behind them, the man grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "smart-ass brat," but Aedhira didn't acknowledge it.
As they made their way to the storage units, Miyu finally spoke up.
"Do you always talk to people like that?" she asked, her tone caught somewhere between curiosity and disbelief.
"Not really," Aedhira replied casually, walking alongside Miyu. His voice carried a playful lilt, but his expression was neutral. "I just saw someone else do it once, and it seemed to work for them." He glanced at her, noting her furrowed brow of curiosity, and added with a small shrug, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
Miyu tilted her head, trying to parse his logic. "And how often does it actually work?"
"About... forty percent of the time?" Aedhira admitted with a grin, raising his hand like he was making a rough guess. "Give or take."
She snorted, shaking her head. "That's not a great success rate."
"Well, it's better than zero." Aedhira's tone was light, but he made a mental note to apologize to the laundry guy later. He didn't like resolving things this way, even if the memories of the 998 told him that for some, standing their ground—or even blustering a bit—was necessary for survival. He hoped the man would understand when the dust settled.
They walked through the makeshift camp, Aedhira's sharp eyes taking in every detail. The hall was a patchwork of improvised shelters and chaos that had a certain odd charm to it. The tents, made from high-quality fabric ripped from the fort, were sturdier than anything you'd find outside Lokir's hostile zones. Inside, he caught glimpses of mattresses and other furniture pieces, repurposed into beds.
He muttered his mantra under his breath: "It's all good, you just have to find someone else to squeeze the money out of." The words grounded him as he suppressed his inner voice screaming about the vandalism of the fort's resources.
The hustle and bustle of the refugees filled the air. Adults worked in groups, chatting and occasionally laughing. Kids darted between tents, shrieking in delight as they played. The smell of cooking food wafted through the air, reminding Aedhira how much the atmosphere had shifted since they'd first arrived. It was lighter now, less tense.
Still, the guilt gnawed at him. He was about to deliver news to Bearof that could shatter this fragile sense of security. The thought weighed on him as they passed a group of children climbing onto a trooper-class automaton.
At first, the sight warmed him—a rare moment of joy in a sea of hardship. But then he looked closer and realized the troopers weren't playing with the kids so much as being played with. The automatons moved sluggishly, their usually sharp and efficient motions dulled. When a child leapt off one's back, another automaton would swiftly move to catch them, almost as if programmed to act like overly cautious babysitters.
"At least someone's having fun," Aedhira muttered under his breath, deciding to pretend he hadn't seen the scene. He didn't need another distraction.
The smell of food drew him onward. As they approached the source, they stumbled upon a scene of culinary chaos. A formidable older woman stood at the center, wielding a smoldering pan of Xar'qul like a weapon. Around her, a small army of cafeteria-designated automatons shuffled, clearly out of their depth. Aedhira couldn't tell if the lady was yelling at the machines, the human staff, or both, but her voice carried the kind of authority that made even him want to stand a little straighter.
He lingered for a moment, mesmerized by the precision of her pan work as waves of the rice-like food flipped through the air without a single grain spilling. Then her sharp gaze locked onto him like a predator spotting prey.
Aedhira froze. Miyu, catching on to his panic, nudged him. "You okay?" she whispered, amused.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, quickly averting his eyes and pretending to admire the metal walls around them. "Nothing to see here."
"I didn't think you were the type to just walk away from a problem," Miyu said, a teasing lilt in her voice.
"Not a problem I can solve in under three seconds," Aedhira replied with a shrug. "That lady? She's a force of nature. Let the automatons figure her out. Besides, I've got bigger issues."
They weaved through the maze of makeshift tents, the sight of the displaced yet bustling camp keeping Aedhira's thoughts churning. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of life springing up despite the circumstances—someone was fixing a rudimentary clothesline between two poles, a child ran past clutching a scrap-metal toy, and laughter rippled from a corner where a small group played a guessing game.
It was almost enough to make him forget why he was here. Almost. The sight of another trooper automaton slouched against a wall, twitching slightly as it endured a child's attempt to decorate its head with ribbons, brought him back to reality. The subtle signs of strain on the machines weren't lost on him. Aedhira clenched his fists, reminding himself to address the maintenance issues later.
Miyu nudged him lightly. "You're staring again. What now?"
"Just… thinking," he said vaguely, though the tightness in his voice betrayed him. "It's good they're adjusting. I just wish it wasn't at the expense of everything else."
"Like the fortress?" Miyu asked, half-joking but catching the flicker of guilt in his expression.
"Yeah," Aedhira said. "And the automatons. And probably my sanity."
Before she could pry further, the sound of gruff laughter caught Aedhira's attention. Following it, they rounded a corner and found a small group gathered near a campfire pit—an actual campfire pit. Someone had managed to source wood and kindling, despite the abundance of advanced tech. The flames danced merrily, their warmth drawing a few people in.
Bearof was seated at the center, his hulking form unmistakable even from a distance. He was sharpening a knife against a stone, the rhythmic scrape setting a steady beat. A few others sat with him, swapping stories and sharing food. The atmosphere felt oddly relaxed.
"Found him," Aedhira muttered, relief mixing with apprehension. He motioned for Miyu to stay back and stepped forward.
Bearof looked up as Aedhira approached. His sharp eyes narrowed at first, but recognition dawned quickly. "Well, look who it is. The golden boy himself." His tone was gruff but not unfriendly.
"Didn't think I'd find you here playing storyteller," Aedhira said, keeping his tone light. He gestured at the knife. "Or whittling away at your stress, apparently."
Bearof grunted, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Gotta do something with my hands. Keeps me from strangling anyone."
"Fair enough," Aedhira replied, taking a seat on a nearby crate. His tone was casual, but his eyes stayed locked on Bearof. "We need to talk. Privately."
Bearof, ever observant, gave Aedhira a long look, one brow slightly raised as if trying to puzzle something out. He didn't press. Instead, he stood, excused himself from the small campfire group—which, to Aedhira's quiet amusement, still burned with wood from an unknown source—and gestured for Aedhira to follow.
Miyu trailed behind them without hesitation, her bowl and spoon still clutched in her hands. Aedhira glanced over his shoulder at her, one brow raised. She just shrugged as if to say, I'm coming, deal with it.
They weaved through the chaotic maze of tents and makeshift structures. The farther they went, the quieter the camp became, until they reached a tent that looked... marginally better than the others. It was still obviously pieced together from what had once been a dorm room, but at this point, Aedhira wasn't sure he had the energy to care.
Bearof noticed the glance Aedhira gave the tent and let out an awkward chuckle. "They weren't too fond of the place at first," Bearof began, rubbing the back of his neck as he led them inside. "Your metal friends, the whole lack of... life around here. It set people on edge."
Aedhira leaned against one of the tent's support beams, arms crossed. "That explains a lot. Though I have to ask, what exactly possessed everyone to dismantle half the dorms to... cobble this together?" His tone was somewhere between bemused and exhausted, but his pointed gaze made it clear he expected an answer.
Bearof sighed, sitting heavily on what passed for a chair—a repurposed cafeteria bench by the look of it. "When we got here, no one felt right about sleeping in those rooms. Too clean, too... untouched. So, people started looking for somewhere more communal. Found that big hall, decided it was perfect."
"Right. And then came the 'scavenging,'" Aedhira interjected dryly.
Bearof grimaced. "Look, it wasn't like we planned it. But we needed beds, stuff to cook with, material for shelter. People did what they had to do."
Aedhira leaned slightly to the side, catching a glimpse of the bed tucked in the corner behind Bearof. His eyes narrowed at the faint, Bearof-sized handprints denting the sides of the bedframe. He looked back at Bearof, brow raised.
The older man coughed awkwardly, suddenly very interested in his hands. Miyu, meanwhile, muffled a snicker behind her bowl.
Aedhira sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "Whatever. It's not like we're staying long anyway."
That wiped the awkward smile off Bearof's face, his expression hardening. Gone was the awkward, middle-aged hulk of a man. Now, it was Bearof—the one who had led the refugees through siege after siege, surviving against the relentless horde that had hunted them for months on Lokir.
Bearof straightened, his tone resolute. "The fort is completely defensible. It could be even better with your golems and robots—"
"They're automatons," Aedhira interrupted sharply.
Bearof blinked at the sudden edge in Aedhira's voice and nodded, correcting himself. "Automatons, then. With your automatons, this place could be a stronghold. A real chance to fight back."
"It won't," Aedhira said flatly. "Not if Lokir itself decides to entomb us."
Bearof's brow furrowed, confusion and a hint of alarm flashing across his face. His silence asked the question, and Aedhira pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing again.
"The dungeon you and your team discovered a few days ago," Aedhira began, his voice quiet but weighted. "I found some answers there. Answers I didn't like. And you won't like them either."
Bearof's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, waiting.
"Lokir is going to collapse in on itself," Aedhira continued, his voice grim. "In approximately two weeks. Give or take. But more likely take."
Bearof stiffened, his broad shoulders seeming to carry the weight of the revelation. Aedhira kept talking, unflinching. "The planet's structural integrity is compromised. It's not going to hold. Lokir's going to kill itself."
The words hung in the air like a death knell. Bearof stood there, silently absorbing the news. Then, with deliberate steps, he walked to the bed, sat down heavily, and buried his face in his hands.
Aedhira tilted his head, unsure how to respond. Beside him, Miyu watched quietly, nodding to herself as if she understood the scene all too well. Bearof's breathing deepened as he steadied himself, his hands dragging down his face before he finally looked at Aedhira with one eye, closing it again after a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, mirroring Aedhira's earlier gesture.
"When all this started," Bearof began, his voice rough but steady, "before Lokir, before any of this... I was a mercenary. A sellsword. Find the highest-paying job, do it, then move on to the next one."
Miyu leaned forward, listening intently. Aedhira crossed his arms but didn't interrupt.
"This job was supposed to be simple," Bearof continued, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. "A guard mission. Ever hear of the civil war that broke out within the Union back on Veria?"
Miyu nodded immediately. "Yeah. It's why I snuck onto the convoy in the first place."
Both Bearof and Aedhira turned to her with raised eyebrows, their faces saying exactly what their voices didn't: You did what?
Miyu hesitated, muttering something in Greek that neither of them understood but sounded suspiciously like an insult.
Bearof, unfazed, pressed on. "Our client—a noble—was fleeing after his house was raided. All his remaining wealth went into hiring a band of adventurers to guard him. It was a suspicious mission with a stupidly high reward. Seasoned adventurers know jobs like that usually mean trouble, but during the civil war... desperation made us blind."
He laughed grimly, the sound bitter. "The noble was cheap, though. Instead of hiring a proper mercenary company, he cobbled together a random group of ragtag parties. The mission was to guard him until he reached Levanta. By airship, it would've taken months. By orbital convoy, just a few days. But the noble chickened out, boarding a public convoy instead."
Bearof paused, his fists clenching slightly. "We joined him, suited and booted, thinking it'd be an easy ride. We were wrong."
Miyu's grip tightened on her empty bowl, her knuckles whitening.
"The convoy was attacked," Bearof said, his voice growing heavier with each word. "Just as we were leaving the atmosphere. Our ship detached from the convoy—it was one of the hired adventurers' ideas to use the others as bait. It worked... partially. Our ship was still hit."
He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "At least it wasn't destroyed."
The room seemed to shrink as Bearof's voice dropped lower. "More than half of the adventurers died during the attack. The ship was damaged, barely holding together. Lokir... was the nearest terestrial satellite with a survivable atmosphere."
Bearof's voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of his memories pulling every word down like an anchor. "The landing was hard. Too hard. We lost more people then. The impact tore through the hull, scattered supplies we couldn't afford to lose, and... crushed any illusions we had about surviving intact."
He paused, his hands clasped tightly on his knees, knuckles white. "The following weeks were... chaos. Everyone scrambling to survive. The strong carried the weak. The clever rationed the scraps we had left. And still, more people were lost. We didn't have the luxury of burying them. No graves, no markers, just... gone."
Bearof's jaw tightened, and his gaze turned distant. "And then..." His voice wavered, only to steady as he pressed on. "I don't know how it happened. Or which fool managed to pull it off. But somehow, we attracted their attention. The Horde. First, it was a skirmish. A probing attack, as if they were testing us. Then the sieges started. One after another, no rest, no mercy. They chased us across this godsforsaken moon for months. Every time we thought we'd found some place to hold out, to breathe, they came. Always."
His fists unclenched just long enough for him to drag his hands down his face, leaving red marks across his weathered skin. "A dozen days ago, we were done. Truly done. We had nothing left. No strength. No plans. No miracles. So, we split up. Put the most experienced fighters in one group, the civilians with the less skilled in another. The fighters stayed back to hold the line... to buy time for the others to get away. It wasn't a plan. It was desperation."
Bearof looked up at Aedhira, his expression unreadable. Aedhira, arms crossed, leaned back against the wall, his sapphire-like eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Until I arrived," he said, voice flat but tinged with an edge of bitterness.
"That's right," Bearof said, nodding slowly. "When you came crashing into the black tide, a lone figure against an endless wave... it was like something out of a story. You cleaved through them. With nothing but raw strength and sheer fury, you carved us a chance. Those of us meant to die holding the line? You bought us time instead."
Aedhira's expression didn't change, but his lips pressed into a thin line.
"And then," Bearof continued, his voice growing heavier, "when we told you about the civilians—about the others running for their lives—you could've walked away. You should have. But you didn't."
Miyu shifted uncomfortably in her seat, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Bearof's gaze didn't waver from Aedhira. "You went back in. Alone. You bombarded them from above, dove into that nightmare again. You didn't just save us fighters. You saved them too. Civilians who had no chance, no hope, no future. You gave them life when they were certain to die."
Bearof leaned forward, his eyes dark and piercing. "You gave us all hope, Aedhira. Something we had no right to expect. Something you should never have given us if you were planning to deliver this news in the end."
A heavy silence filled the room. Aedhira's expression tightened, his usual air of confidence cracking ever so slightly.
Bearof's voice dropped to a near growl, filled with equal parts anger and pain. "Tell me, why? Why would you give us hope?"