The day he'll die, it was finally here.
He's been living for too long these past 13 years.
Imagine having to wake up as a fully conscious baby in the age of two, live through a five-membered family to a twelve, raised by old parents before they died so the eldest had to replace them, steal duke-gifts for monthly food and clothes, all before twilight so the beast of the night won't hunt you to your house.
All those things for 13 miserable years, Mikko was done, finished. Tired and ready to finally be unconscious.
He was the canon-fodder? Good. He doesn't have to live to be part of a tragedy induced by the main characters. Seriously, does no one cares for the extras anymore? But he doesn't need to care for that.
As soon as he comes with his sister to bestow the gift, he will turn to stone after the Duke says only one of them should give the gift. His sister lives, he dies, and his family prosper. Because of this event, the people before them will shiver in the sight of the Duke.
This was his purpose, to be the black horse that carries the menacing aura of the male lead and live peacefully in the skies as a bird that drops its feces on the face of people. This was his lifetime goal, the only way he can open his hands on the sands.
"Mm. I'll come," Mikko replied, hiding a mischievous grin. The girl showed a weird expression, confused with the slight happy voice of his aloof brother in the darkness. "...hehe."
Hehe...?
During these kinds of night, the family didn't sleep at all. From twilight to forenoon, each member knelt and prostated themselves in different branches of the house. No one dared to sleep, even for a distant brother like Mikko who was just fitting in with the herd.
And it seemed for Angola, she couldn't keep her eyes off the velvet box.
The previous months, their family gifted satin pillows, hand-stitched blankets, and carefully-carved furniture yet none were taken that was exquisite enough to earn at least five plates on their table.
If not for Mikko and the others working in a Gentry's farm during the morning, begging in the noon, or pulling the trolley in the night; the family would lose another member from malnutrition.
Even the eldest, who did not choose to be put in the position of having to take care of her ten siblings, expressed worry seeing her youngest brother (Mikko) was thinner and shorter than the other kids in his age. Everytime he came back, there would be specks of snow or sand in his hair, and his eyes would be red from forcefully crying. She knew that he doesn't show much emotion, but these things couldn't come from someone who doesn't harbor compassion for their family. She was worried that he secretly cries alone.
And the velvet box...it was the only hope of the family. There will be a next blizzard from another reigning winter soon, there wouldn't be enough time to stock for food.
In the end, when the morning came along even if the two children wore suits and vest, and ribbons and dresses; they couldn't hide their jaded looks from last night.
Just like that, with the box in Mikko's hands, he and Angola were off to the Central city.
Meanwhile, in a long candascent hall with brocade of diamond chandeliers, illuminating a lengthy cashmere carpet presented a walking butler with a silver tray on his hands.
Such foyer was smothered in vibrant perfume, the excess aroma left from the previous family's gift. Despite the pleasing aroma, the air became too thick for the one sitting on the high chair to bear.
The manservant knelt and showed the tray, "Sir Kaladin, a message from the King," immediately, the lid floated from the platter as the neatly laced scroll drifted towards the Duke's gloves seamlessly. Behind the sumptuous curtains, his eyes stared keenly on the letter. "He request prompt actions to be done, Sir."
A sound of a paper tear could be heard behind the cloth as the noise echoed through the room.
"Then, tell the guards," it almost seemed like a shout if the servant was close enough to the curtains. The butler couldn't help but to furrow his brows as he heard their Duke's natural tenor speech turn to a husky breathy voice: "...catch the sneaky thief with a mole on his neck, and bring me Ester Hanes."
In the garden of the Cathedral.
Weird. Back in my world, because humans didn't go outside often, we almost forgot that other lands have different weathers. Even if it was a massive winter above your heads, it would be as sunny as the garden's cathedral on another.
All of the coldness from the children's bodies melted. While Angola mumbled her gratitude, Mikko stared at the sun in acceptance.
This isn't such a bad weather to die.
He turned his head to look at the cluster of people with gifts in their hands. Many came from noble families and held luminous delicate presents on their hands.
But...
"I-I'm going to die...the Duke is going to stone me," a noble cried out, his sweat dripping on this gift. Just when Mikko thought it was simply a self-loathing episode, the man's navy-blue pants gradually became darker on the front as few drops of 'water' slipped to the leg opening.
A few saw this and began screeching in disgust before the soldiers took the aristrocrat away, still he muttered the same 'I'm going to die' chant repeatedly in the same pitch.
That aristrocrat wasn't the only one who appeared to be out of his head though.
Mikko glanced at different faces in the garden, all of them had lifeless souls in such a special occasion. He knew why, after all, before the Protagonist came, how many people do you think the Duke had killed?
Suddenly, Mikko felt the sun was getting too warm, he glanced at the prized box in his hands and put it back his bag before unbottoning the collar on his neck and went to Angola.
"Hey," he scratched himself, "I'm going to the fountain to drink-" Mikko took the sight of two white armors behind a tree, staring at him in the dark. Two pair of eyes that appeared as wolves to a prey, they glew in the sun and brightened in the dark. He couldn't take his eyes of it, he felt...he couldn't describe it.
Mikko's throat began to tighten, he looked back and forth to his sister then to the knights.
Were they stalking her?
His neck began to grow more itchy and he specifically kept grating the part of his mole.
Angola raised a brow, "And? I'm not thirsty?"
Without any more words, Angola was grabbed and dragged by her brother as fast their steps sounded on the pebbles. She didn't even have any time to react when her the narrow place she was in, expanded suddenly with no shade of trees present an only a large fountain in the center.
She broke free from his grasp. "Wha..." her mouth then ceased, her eyes focused on his brother's watery eyes watching his back and the people around them. She became silent.
Though it was very unlikely because they're nothing but strangers from the outside land, Angola presumed what he was thinking.
"..." she looked at the fountain's flowing waters and others taking a sip from the available glasses.
Would Mikko calm down with a drink? She wondered. She took a last glance before stroding to the waters, "I'll get a glass for the both of us."
Mikko kept scanning the place that he didn't know when Angola walked to the fountain, he was about to open his mouth to yell but seeing several other ladies doing the same and no presence of men near, he kept quiet. Angola was safe there.
As soon as he started calming down, the sound of metal feet was heard in the place followed by voices of confusion. Mikko turned around.
"...Fronts on the right, flanks on the left," the white knight ordered with a baton as several troops followed the direction he pointed. Mikko thought that under the shadows of so many people, his little stature couldn't be seen. His sweat almost vanished until the knight's golden eyes locked on him.
His whole body could feel the weight of the ground suddenly. Mikko glanced at Angola, but the swarm of dresses put him back to the knight which was getting closer to his view.
Then his slow steps began to quicken hardly making his jaunts seem like a normal walk as Mikko kept his position.
When the man's body began to grow taller and taller in his view, Mikko's last sweat broke on his chin.
They weren't there for Angola, weren't they?
In a second, the memory of the five men he stole the alexandrite from appeared before his eyes.
BARK, BARK, BARK.
"Fronts! Catch the boy," the voice resounded the whole court and quickly soldiers dashed to the scene with the chains of monstrous guard dogs falling to the ground. "Flanks, assist me!
Mikko dashed through the spaces of bodies from the benches, nearly tripping on the pieces of food on the ground.
One knight took out his loaded gun and shot the boy's shadow, the sound reverbrated the hall, now the center started to be filled with pitched screams.
"Guns!"
"What was that? AH, dear wife-"
"Lord, where is the Duke? The Duke...call the authorities...!"
A simpleton like Mikko could see the first gun, but as soon as he reached the gate of the garden's maze, a second shotgun poked out in the bush.
Before he could pull his body away, a gushing force slammed in Mikko's thigh.
"F...ack!" the sounds of dogs trailed behind him as an armor in black emerged from the tall bushes, running to him in heavy heels.
"Call the dame," said the knight while pressing his ear, there was a magical symbol that echoed voices from the other side. But, as soon as the knight turned his sight to the boy again, only a trail of blood that lead to the gardens was seen.
Clank...clank. The gates were opened, the murderer groaned as he loaded his gun once more.
Mikko's eyes began to really water as he clenched the wound on his leg. The only thing repeating in his mind was: was there ever a thing like this in the story?!
However, he didn't stop. Mikko threw his body to different corners, turning around once he saw a dead end and repeated the same cycle as the gradual sounds of dogs and voices was growing behind him.
Pause. Mikko looked at the tall bushes across him and removed his hands from his thigh.
Four knights came and saw that the trail of blood suddenly stopped in a dead end with a bag on the ground. The dogs sniffed the liquid, raising their heads, they began barking above.
"The thief is above the maze!"
He hugged the red velvet box in his hands, jumping through the walls of the garden which had numerous corners with the soldier's pointy heads slowly raise their heads as soon as they got the message.
Multiple bullet fires and guns aimed mercilessly at his thin body, he ducked as the first bullet fired and sprinted from different walls as all of them fired like a beat.
Despite being in a fantasy world, characters weren't immune to death unless they were the protagonist. If the protagonist dies, then it just simply means they weren't the protoganist. For Mikko, he was no exception.
Bullets punched his abdomen, arm and almost his neck.
One foot in, when he looked back, his other foot fell out.
"Ack-" his head slammed on the ground and his limbs bled more like a volcano in alert. He got out of the maze but the dog barks were still chasing, his head raised up to stare at the stairway just across him leading to the cathedral.
He turned back once more time before stealing the box from the ground and flying towards the steps.
Mikko saw the lights on in the cathedral, then a significantly massive pillar in the center. Aside from small mumbles, the entrance hall of the cathedral was empty.
He hid behind a pillar, biting his lip to muffle his pained screams. His breath hardened.
"...Ernest Hanes," a sweet voice echoed in the hall as Mikko's tear dropped from his cheek. The owner of the voice was an old woman dressed in a nun's outfit, talking with another while holding a candle to light the lamps in the dark hall, "Was that his name? What was his name?"
The other lady didn't appear to care, she deeply sighed. "The Duke ordered to search for him, and to behead the thief."
Mikko's eyes widened. Behead? W-what did I steal from the Duke?
How could I...or was it...
There was the sudden thought that came. It was impossible, but what he saw next just proves it.