Cedar woke with the disciplined precision ingrained in every soldier. He quickly dressed, his movements efficient, before pausing to glance out the window.
Nearby, Ivan was already awake, dedicating himself to his morning training. The type of nature magic Ivan practiced thrived best under the soft light of dawn, and he intended to make the most of it.
The capital's early morning light bathed the streets and rooftops in a warm golden glow, casting long, gentle shadows.
The sight was serene, a sharp contrast to the chaotic battlefields Cedar had grown accustomed to. The hum of the city awakening—the clinking of tools, merchants setting up their stalls, and the occasional bursts of laughter—painted a picture of peace Cedar had almost forgotten could exist.
Today, Cedar allowed himself a rare indulgence: a leisurely walk through the city. Free from the weight of duty and battle, he decided to explore the capital as a visitor, not a soldier.
The winding streets carried him through bustling marketplaces and quiet alleys, past intricate stonework fountains and secluded courtyards. Merchants called out their wares, their voices mixing with the soft melodies of street musicians. Children played along the cobblestone streets, their laughter rising above the din.
For a fleeting moment, Cedar felt disconnected from the looming shadow of war.
Yet, as he passed a musician strumming a melancholic tune, a flicker of unease stirred within him—an echo of memories better left buried.
He shook his head, brushing the discomfort aside. This was his moment of peace, and he refused to let old wounds mar it.
Eventually, Cedar found himself near the central park, drawn to the quiet serenity of the area.
Ancient trees lined the paths, their canopies offering shade to benches below. The scent of flowers mingled with the chirping of birds, creating a tranquil contrast to the city's usual bustle. Settling onto a bench, he let out a deep breath, allowing the calm to wash over him.
Just as he began to relax, a small tug at his sleeve drew his attention. Looking down, Cedar found himself face-to-face with a familiar figure—a blonde-haired boy with bright, eager eyes.
"Hello, Mister Soldier! We meet again," the boy said cheerfully. Cedar recognized him immediately as the child from the airship.
Before he could respond, the boy's sister approached, her demeanor warm yet reserved.
Cedar couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "Greetings, young adventurer," he said with a playful bow. "Is there something I can assist you with?"
The boy's eyes sparkled at the title, standing a little taller as he nodded, clearly enjoying the idea of being an "adventurer" rather than just a young boy.
"Yes, actually!" he said with mock seriousness. "I was hoping you could show me around the city. My sister says it's too big and dangerous for me to explore alone, but with a soldier by my side, I'll be just fine!"
The sister offered Cedar a polite smile. "I hope he hasn't been bothering you," she said softly. "He's been dying to explore, but… you know how children are."
"Not a bother at all," Cedar replied, meeting her gaze. He remembered the boy's unwavering trust during the airship evacuation, a trust that only a child could give amidst chaos. "It'd be my pleasure. Besides, seeing the city through fresh eyes might do me some good."
The boy beamed, his excitement overflowing. "See? I knew you'd say yes!" He shot a triumphant look at his sister before turning back to Cedar. "Now we'll have a proper tour!"
His sister nodded in agreement and said to Cedar, "Thank you, sir."
With a chuckle, Cedar stood up and led the siblings through the capital.
Drawing from Ivan's detailed knowledge, he introduced them to the city's landmarks. They visited the central square, where a grand statue of the Union's founder stood, surrounded by vendors hawking charms, trinkets, and snacks.
The boy asked an endless stream of questions, his curiosity boundless, while his sister appeared content to enjoy the outing at a relaxed pace.
"This," Cedar explained, gesturing to a towering marble obelisk, "was built to honor those who defended the capital during the first century of the Hundred Years' War. Each name etched here belongs to a soldier, mage, or healer who gave their life to protect this city."
The boy's earlier excitement dimmed as he stared at the endless list of names. "That's… so many people," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet awe.
His sister placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression gentle. "It's a reminder of the sacrifices made to protect what we have today," she said softly. "That's why we have to be brave, even when it's hard."
Cedar nodded, her words resonating with him. "Bravery isn't just for the battlefield. Sometimes, it's about holding on to what matters most."
As the day wore on, Cedar guided them to a quieter part of the city, where nature's tranquility offered a welcome reprieve.
A small garden nestled between buildings became their final stop—a hidden sanctuary Ivan had once pointed out. The boy, worn out from the day's excitement, sat on a bench under one of the trees, still marveling at the sights.
"You really know a lot, Mister Soldier," he said, looking up at Cedar with admiration. "You must've seen so many amazing things."
Cedar chuckled, his tone light. "I've been around, that's true. But every place has its own story to tell, something new to learn."
The boy's sister smiled warmly at Cedar. "Thank you, Sergeant. You didn't have to do this, but it means a lot—to both of us."
Cedar met her gaze, sensing the sincerity in her words. "It was my pleasure," he replied earnestly. "The capital's a place worth sharing."
As the sun dipped below the rooftops, casting the streets in a warm golden hue, Cedar escorted the siblings back to the bustling main thoroughfare. The day's exploration had been unexpectedly refreshing, leaving him with a rare sense of contentment amidst the tension of looming war.
Cedar's thoughts drifted to Major Frederick, the siblings' elder brother, and his notable absence. He had overheard some soldiers describing the major as an unusual figure, one whose reputation straddled the line between brilliance and peculiarity.
In these turbulent times, even fleeting moments with family were a rare luxury. Frederick likely spent what little free time he had immersed in his duties or overseeing Cedar's recent promotion.
A man of unwavering commitment, Frederick had left behind the comforts of his hometown and the legacy of their late father—a baron and respected high-ranking mage—to serve in the capital.
Despite his title as a major, it wasn't a particularly elevated rank. He might have risen higher in the military hierarchy had he remained in Operon, where his father's influence could have paved the way for greater opportunities.
Yet Frederick had chosen duty over privilege, devoting himself entirely to the Union and its cause.
It was a decision that defined him—noble, yet isolating.
In his absence, it left a void for his younger siblings, forcing them to navigate the vast and often impersonal capital on their own, even in these fleeting moments of peace.
Before parting ways, the young boy looked up at Cedar with a hopeful expression. "What's your name, mister soldier?" he asked eagerly, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Cedar smiled, leaning down slightly to meet the boy's gaze. "Cedar," he replied warmly.
"I'm Victor," the boy said proudly, puffing out his chest. "And this is my sister, Celeste."
Cedar nodded in acknowledgment, committing their names to memory. "It was a pleasure meeting both of you," he said as he stood upright. After exchanging goodbyes, the siblings turned back toward the main thoroughfare, their figures soon blending into the crowd.
As Cedar began making his way back to his quarters, he found himself reflecting on the peaceful moments he had shared with them. It was rare to feel such calm amidst the chaos of war, and even rarer to share it with others.
However, the tranquility of the day was short-lived.
The lively streets he had walked mere moments ago grew eerily silent, the usual hum of the capital replaced by an oppressive stillness. Cedar slowed his steps, his senses sharpening as a thick fog began to roll in, its tendrils creeping along the cobblestones like grasping fingers.
The cheerful sounds of merchants and children were gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet that pressed down on him. The air grew colder, chilling him to the bone as the fog swirled, dampening the light and distorting his surroundings.
Something was wrong.
The more Cedar walked, the stranger the city seemed. The familiar streets began to twist and shift, subtle changes making once-recognizable landmarks appear alien.
Corners turned where they shouldn't, alleys stretched unnaturally long, and the buildings seemed to loom closer, their windows dark and watchful.
A cold dread crept over him, tightening around his chest.