All members of Maros' cohort—excluding Joanne—were inside the foyer, with Valeria being the only one on the couch.
"Valeria," Maros said. "Go to the stables. Help Joanne with the preparations."
The girl reluctantly complied, sighing as she stood up before roughly closing the front door on her way out.
A lingering silence filled the foyer air, Maros' attention eventually landing on Jett.
"You'll have a year at the minimum. Realistically, this war won't end for two, maybe three."
"I understand."
"No," Maros replied. "Reaching Maven before twenty is unrealistic…"
"I haven't failed you before," Jett asserted.
"Naive optimism," Maros chuckled, though his smile quickly fading. "We'll be separated for a long time. Along with a near impossible task."
"I won't run."
"That's what the one before you said," Maros said. "Maybe not equally as driven, but similar to you."
"My goals align with the mission's. With or without your guidance, I would pursue Soul."
"I see."
Maros walked to the window, his hands behind his back, staring out into the distance as Jett stood at attention.
"You may have noticed, that I don't wish to bind others to my battle. But necessity demanded it," Maros sighed. "So I compromised my morals. A loose system of uplifting young talent into my entourage. More coercive than forceful. But still distasteful. And especially ineffective."
"I'm grateful," Jett stated with a curt bow. "As is Valeria."
Maros glanced towards Jett, his eyes slowly trailing back outside the window.
"I suppose that's part of what keeps you in the fight. Gratitude. But I have a good grasp on what you are, Jett," Maros declared. "When the time comes, you'll prioritize the self over man's constructs, as I would…"
"…If you truly want this, you'll have to sacrifice everything. More than everything."
Jett hesitated at his grandiose declaration.
But his heart, forged by a life of powerlessness, had solidified.
His mind represented the same conclusion: he would gain power, enough to break every chain that bounded his being.
Only then could he actualize himself. He could have his retribution for a life that wronged him.
Strata's walls, Maros, the very gods.
All sought to trap him.
And he loathed that.
Jett was no longer an animal, but a man. And man was meant to be free. Power would ensure that.
With power, he would never have to serve another being again, trapped as a pawn to serve others' ends.
Serving Maros was a compromise to his morals, though he deemed the means necessary to reach his goal.
This is the purpose that Jett would cling to. A guiding light.
'What happens after?'
A choice that he would have to make when the time came. But Jett's life would be in his own hands.
"Then I will," Jett declared. "As you've taught me."
"Very well," Maros turned back around, extending his hand. "Then I'll see you again, Jett."
Jett's determined eyes met Maros', and the two shook hands.
"Likewise."
***
Valeria and Joanne were outside the stables, surrounding a large but functional carriage.
The ethereal Corrupted Bison—endearingly named Lord Joffrey by Valeria—stood in front attached by a chain, unperturbed by any stimuli.
"Jett come look at this," Valeria beckoned from the wagon's side.
She pointed toward the underside of the carriage, where a strange black cube was embedded.
"Maros really went all out. It's a stabilizing artifact," she said. "Not only does it prevent any bumps, but also allows for Ole' Lord Joffrey here to reach near max speed."
"What's the maintenance like?" Jett asked.
"Pebble of Soulstone now and then. It's pretty efficient, and we got bags of pebbles. Come check the back."
The two hopped into the back of the wagon.
Inside were crates of supplies. Water creation artifacts, loads of long-lasting food, maps, tents, backup weapons, money, sleeping bags, everything necessary to last them through the worst-case scenario.
'The artifacts alone cost thousands, not to mention the exorbitant price of Soulstone…'
Even though Maros doubted the mission's success, he cut no corners.
Valeria had mentioned another of 'Maros' dogs' who had gone missing in action, whom she suspected had fled.
Maros had all but confirmed that suspicion. Jett believed that his distrust stemmed from that ordeal.
But Maros' entire plot for the throne was itself a gamble. He certainly wouldn't stop now.
'I guess a man of his standing can afford to hemorrhage money like this.'
"Jett," Joanne called out.
"Yeah?" Jett replied, peaking out of the wagon.
There was a hint of solemnity on her face, masterfully covered up by her typical neutral demeanor.
"War is hell. Do not take it lightly."
"I will."
"If you need to contact us, write the address on this letter," she said, handing said letter to Jett. "Though you'll need to pay a messenger quite the sum to do so."
"I understand."
"Return strong and safe, Jett."
Jett nodded in response, turning back into the wagon.
For a fleeting moment, his heart felt heavy.
It was an odd feeling knowing he would leave this mansion, and maybe for good.
The Carmine manor was the only home he had ever known.
Food, baths, and the company of others who appeared to care. He had everything. And Jett certainly basked in its comfort.
It would be sorely missed.
'I'll see it again.'
If all goes well. And he would ensure it did.
Failure was death. And the Shacktown in Jett wouldn't allow him to die. Survival was at his core. He understood that now.
"Goodbye, mansion!" Valeria waved as she shook the chain reigns.
In response, Lord Joffrey began to stretch his powerful legs as he steadily pulled the wagon.
***
The few bits of optimism that Jett had slowly died as they took their leave.
Mostly because of the sheer time it took to leave Strata. Even being in a wagon did little to make travel faster in the gargantuan megacity.
Even with the necessary paperwork signed directly by the Storm Warden's Captain, it was still quite the hassle.
First was the foot and wagon traffic of the Upper City. Then it was the traffic of the Middle City.
'Would be faster to walk…'
Jett had been getting quite used to very long and boring trips, with many egregiously long night walks under his belt at this point.
This wait was much more bearable than that. But it was the realization of an even longer trip ahead that hit harder.
After about an hour, they had finally made it out of Strata from the Middle City's Western gate.
Another big milestone for Jett. He made sure to soak in the sights.
The Valley was surreal, but just as he had dreamed of.
In the Western direction, there was nothing for as far as the eye could see.
Nothing but a flat plain and grey clouds. Though if one squinted enough, they could make out the Ridge's hills and forests.
That was the sight of the West. But the Southern ridge—which was much closer to Strata—was much more apparent.
Towards the South, it was easy to see the transition from the Valley's flat plane into the highlands of the Ridge.
But the most surreal sight of all was the unfathomably massive cylindrical mountain that pierced the sky, its summit hidden in the clouds.
The Mound, in all of its glory.
'The world's center…'
Revered by many religions. It was pleasing to the eye, akin to a god's creation. Jett could see why so many people revered higher beings—if the stories of the Mound's creation were to be believed.
It was art.
In Strata, Jett could only ever see a portion of the Mound's top past the walls.
Not the very tip of the Mound. As far as any being could tell, the Mound stretched to the world's ceiling.
Its base was much more impressive. For man was close enough to embrace it.
Strata was the closest of the world's major cities to the Mound.
While there were Vault settlements closer to the Mound—Stratan and Crusader-owned—Strata's unique barrier allowed them to establish a monopoly on the Mound as a resource.
This made Strata incredibly powerful but at the expense of diplomacy. Many religions denounced the empire for their desecration of the Mound as a holy site.
Though Strata was still far from the Mound in reality. The sheer scale of the mountain made the distance seem only a stone's toss away.
As for where they were going exactly…
Their wagon was currently on the Northwestern road.
The wagon trampled on the short, thin, greyed-out grass of the Valley.
Paving roads through the Valley was futile; the Soul Storm would demolish it with ease.
However, the Valley grass and top layer of soil had evolved to be invulnerable to the Soul Storm's destruction.
All Strata had to do was cut lines through the soil to mark the edges of roads. The Soul Storm would then make those lines thicker and more apparent, set in perfect limbo by the grass's regeneration.
Many other wagons came and went through Strata's external gate, though not nearly as many as usual due to the war.
But for the brave merchants who did persist, they were generously rewarded with the upcharges of a high-demand economy.
With a crack of the chains, Lord Joffrey slowly ramped up to his top speed.
And the whole world became much smaller.
The inertia began to tilt Jett backward as the wagon smoothly entered high speeds, featuring only a minor idle rumble.
While initially a fright, Jett quickly accustomed himself to the frighteningly fast wagon.
Corrupted Bison were known to be able to outrun Soul Storms after all.
'This is about double, maybe triple the speed of a cow. Quite impressive with the heavy load.'
Wind pushed throughout the wagon, turning the already cold air frigid.
Thankfully this was foreseen, and the supplies in the wagon's backside were properly secured inside their wooden crates.
Looking behind them, Jett witnessed the massive Stratan walls slowly shrink ever so slightly as they gained more distance.
"Jett~" Valeria groaned with a stretch.
"Yeah?" Jett replied from the wagon's backside, slowly pulling out a thick Winter coat.
"Come take the reigns. I'm tired."
'Ridiculous. We just got out here…'
Bundled up, Jett was prepared to brave the cold Winter winds.
Jett climbed into the wagon's side seat with care, slowly taking the chain reigns from Valeria.
Valeria proceeded towards the wagon's rear, tying the front hole of the wagon's cover to prevent the winds from coming inside.
And with that, Jett was left alone in a vast empty field.
It was a whole new world.
Figuratively and literally, Jett held the reigns.