[Hinterlands, Two hundred kilometers from the capital city of Rosmayne]
The forest had accompanied them for days. Tall trees stretched overhead, their crowns filtering sunlight into shifting patches of gold that drifted across the undergrowth whenever the wind stirred. Morning dew still clung stubbornly to the grass, soaking boots and hems alike, while birds hidden among the branches filled the silence with endless conversation.
Randia paid them little attention.
Map in hand, he walked steadily onward, following paths that often seemed invisible to everyone except himself.
Viena, meanwhile, had discovered that travel became considerably more entertaining when spent attempting to irritate him.
Over the past four days she had hung beetles from his cloak, tucked strange leaves into his collar, imitated his stride, and on one memorable occasion attempted to convince him that a particularly ugly mushroom was following them.
None of it had produced a satisfactory reaction.
"Ugh!"
The complaint emerged for perhaps the hundredth time that morning.
"We've been walking for four whole days and you still haven't told me where we're going!"
Randia adjusted the map.
"We're going south."
"I know that!"
"Good."
"That's not an answer!"
"It is."
Viena glared at him.
When glaring accomplished nothing, she grabbed his arm and hung from it like an oversized squirrel.
That also accomplished nothing.
A few moments later she escalated matters by attempting to bite his hand.
Randia calmly removed her from his arm without ever looking away from the map.
Viena scowled and snatched the map from him while he wasn’t looking. “Gimme that!”
“Give it back. You can’t even read.”
“I CAN!”
"Well then, be my guest. Tell me where we are."
She held the parchment with dramatic confidence, scanning it like a scholar. But her face fell just as quickly. The symbols were unfamiliar, the letters strange. Even the cardinal directions were written in some other script—foreign and twisted.
Still, she tried.
“Umm… That’s the mountain, and the river’s already behind us, sooo… we’re going to this city. Right? Right?!”
“Sure,” Randia replied, deadpan. “If you want to sleep under trees for another week.”
“Eh?! No waaay! I’m gonna die! My back’s already broken!”
“I know. You’ve been crying about it loud enough every night.”
“I—I wasn’t crying! I was just… missing my bed a little, that’s all!”
“Heh, Convincing,” Randia said, folding the map with military precision. “Anyway, that’s why we’re going here first.” He pointed to a small house drawn on the edge of a hill. “Then we walk another four days to reach this city.” His finger landed on a distant castle.
Viena groaned. Then, as if it were a sacred tradition, she reached up, clambered onto his arm, and gestured for him to carry her. Randia sighed and let her hang on like a koala.
As they walked, she squinted at the map he’d just folded away.
“Wait… the lines here—look! There’s a flag next to that border. That means we’re in a foreign land, right?”
Randia shook his head. “Still Rosmayne. Just a different dukedom.”
“Huh.” Viena tilted her head. “What’s a dukedom again?”
So Randia explained—patiently, as always—about the continent of Seraina, its tangled feudal webs, and ultimately, the patchwork of domains ruled by dukes and duchesses under the Rosmayne’s crown.
She listened carefully, chewing berries she’d picked earlier, feet swinging idly from where he held her.
“I was too tired to think straight these past few days,” she said, eyes narrowing. “But who were those guys in the sewer? They had those big flags, and they used cool magic—well, not as cool as yours—but still! I’ve never seen knights like that in my life!”
“They’re mystic knights,” Randia replied. “From Aramia.”
“From this country?” She pointed.
“No. A bit to the right.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. That’s Aramia.”
He fell quiet for a moment, watching the horizon. The wind shifted slightly.
“They belong to an elite order,” he went on. “Trained in Aramia’s provincial capitals. Special schools take them in from a young age—your age. They live to serve their emperor. And die for him.”
Viena blinked. “But you said we’re still in Rosmayne!”
“. . . That’s the puzzle I have no answer to.”
The woods fell away behind them like a curtain pulled back, revealing a stretch of gentle plains bathed in the midday sun. And there, nestled in the distance, stood a town—small, perhaps, but bustling with promise. Its stone walls rose proudly from the land, a jagged horizon against the sky.
Viena's eyes sparkled. This was her first town—her first real one—and her little heart raced with wonder. She bounced on her heels, a grin blooming on her face.
But before her excitement could overflow, Randia reached out, mussed her hair, and tapped her forehead twice with a rough fingertip.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said flatly. “You’ll make mistakes.”
“I—I know!” she huffed, puffing out her cheeks.
Then, gently, his hand moved under her chin and tilted her face up.
“Now, what color do you want?”
“Huh? Color?”
“For your eyes. The next town won’t treat cursed children kindly either. Most places won’t.”
The joy slipped from her face like sunlight behind a cloud. She looked away, lips pressed tight, her fists closing around the hem of her tunic. Randia paused. Regret hit him like a quiet blow—he hated saying such things to her, hated the way the world forced him to. To him, a child’s face should be made for laughter, not caution.
But then Viena turned back to him with a bright, sudden grin.
“Then… what color do you think suits me best?”
Randia exhaled, long and low. “Keep your eyes open. Steady now.”
He lifted a finger. A thread of water swirled into being, drawn from the air and the moisture of the earth. The current danced and twisted in a slow spiral until it formed a perfect, glistening sphere. It shrank again and again, compressing into a bead so fine and clear it looked like a tear caught mid-fall.
With a flick, he dropped a bead into each of Viena’s eyes.
“A-Ah! It stings a bit…”
She blinked several times, the sticky sensation strange but fading. When the sting was gone, she spun and struck a dramatic pose.
“How about now, Ran? Do I look a thousand times cuter?” the little girl posed with her hands making peace signs on the side of her face.
Randia shook his head, lips twitching. “One must always remember—people are more than what meets the eye.”
“But beauty is a charm!”
“Charm? No. That’s a flawed perception.” His tone sharpened, not unkind but firm. “Beauty on its own is a curse. Only when joined with the other two, does it become a gift.”
“Other two? Ugh, your words are so hard to understand!”
Randia points at Viena's head, nose, and the middle of her chest simultaneously, each with a long pause. Viena's hands followed right after and touched the part of herself where Randia gently touched.
"The bright mind to understand. The fairness of shape and the eloquence of manners to share. The benevolent heart to sustain."
Viena blinked. Then, hands on hips, she declared with mock confidence, “Well, at least that’s one in the bag! Only two more to go!”
She grinned—until Randia’s skeptical expression dulled her glow.
“W-What?!” she barked.
They walked on. The town grew clearer with every step, its stone walls thick and sturdy, standing firm against time. Azure rose flags flapped in the breeze atop high towers, glinting in the noon sun.
“Ran! I can see it! The town! Hurry up!”
“There’s no need to rush.”
The words had barely left his mouth when Viena tripped over a rock and went sprawling.
She hissed in pain, her knee scraped and bleeding. But before Randia could move, she stood, dusted herself off, and scowled.
“See? Told you to calm down,” he said evenly. “The walls aren’t going anywhere.”
“S-Shut up! I was just—!”
“If there were hillcats lurking around, you'd already be their snack.”
Embarrassed, Viena looked away indignantly. Thus, they keep walking until they have arrived at an old stone bridge which is the only path leading to the town. On the other side of the bridge, they can see paved roads, marking the extent of Rosmayne's authority.
"Viena, come and wash your leg."
"Why should I? The town is just around the corner!" Viena snarked peevishly.
"Right. Just so you know, where there are people, filth and flies always follow. Certain insects lay their eggs in the dust, and we can't see it. Who knows? Maybe some will stick in a naughty girl's wound and fill it with worms tonight."
Viena shivers in fear and disgust. She finally gives in and does what Randia says. As she washes her knee in the river, Randia refills their empty waterskins to the brim after sterilizing the water by boiling it with his magic.
"You don't need to scrub too hard. I was just lying."
"What?! So, it's not true?! Are you just messing around with me?!"
"Yes. That part when I said the infected wound will be filled with worms by night is not true."
"You-!"
"It only takes three hours at most for the eggs to hatch."
She froze. Her face paled. And then, in a frenzy of disgusted panic, she scrubbed even harder than before.
“No! No! Get off me! You’re not eating me!”
A sharp snort broke the silence. Viena paused mid-scrub, eyes wide.
Was that—?
She turned around, and there it was: a crack. The faintest curve at the edge of Randia’s mouth.
“Aha! I saw that! That suuper bad smile!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Randia said, instantly stone-faced again. “Dry your feet. We’re moving on.”
Instead, Viena kicked water at him.
“Stop that—Viena!”
The splash turned into a game. Or rather, a one-sided water assault for Viena. Randia, eventually relenting, summoned a stream from the river and lifted her clean off the ground, plopping her back onto the riverside like a drenched cat.
Viena laughed so hard her sides hurt. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages, and for once, she didn’t think about the town ahead, or her cursed eyes, or the burden she carried. Just this moment—sunlight, cold river water, and a man who, just maybe, could smile properly again.
Even soaked to the bone, she didn’t mind.
Viena quickly changed into dry clothes, her damp ones folded neatly beside her as Randia worked his magic to dry them. With a few steady gestures, the wet fabric flapped and fluttered like the wings of a bird until it was as dry as if it had been hung in the sun. Satisfied, they continued their journey, their pace slow and deliberate.
Half an hour later, the towering walls of the town came into full view, rising high against the horizon. The sheer scale of it startled Viena.
“Wow! The walls are really high!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with awe.
Randia’s voice was low, measured. “The closer we are to a capital city, the larger the towns become. It’s the mark of growing influence.”
They arrived at the gates, where a line of travelers, merchants with wagons, and carts extended into the distance. The queue was separated into two paths: one for merchants and their goods, and the other for common folk like them. They joined the latter.
“Ran,” Viena asked, her voice laced with curiosity and some trepidation. “Aren’t you afraid? What if they find out you hurt their friends?”
Randia glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. “There is nothing to worry about.” His tone, ever calm, made it hard for Viena to imagine him truly frightened of anything.
The wait stretched long and monotonous, as waits often did. Viena, bored and restless, turned her attention outward, peppering Randia with questions—about the gate’s structure, the intricacies of the guards’ armor, and even the scrolls they carried. She observed everything and asked questions as she always did, with boundless enthusiasm.
Eventually, a merchant’s wagon rumbled past, laden with goods of all kinds. Wares hung from the sides of the cart—brightly colored fabrics, brushes, and small lanterns. But there was one thing that caught her eye more than all the rest.
A mirror.
She couldn’t look away. As it caught the sunlight, it shimmered with an almost hypnotic quality. But it wasn’t the mirror itself that stunned her—it was the reflection in it.
"My eyes…" she whispered under her breath, stepping closer.
Her gaze met her own reflection. The color was unmistakable—cerulean blue, deep and calm like the ocean stretching beyond the horizon. Randia’s eyes. She blinked, unable to believe it at first. But the more she looked, the more she realized the truth. Her eyes… were his.
A wave of joy washed over her, bubbling up from deep within, yet she was unable to express it properly. All she could do was stand there, frozen, overwhelmed.
Soon enough, their turn came to face the guard’s inspection.
The guard raised an eyebrow at Randia, his eyes flicking to the man’s towering figure. At 195 cm, Randia was an imposing presence, and it wasn’t the first time his size and demeanor had put others on edge.
"Your name?"
"Ran."
"Occupation?"
"Medevist."
What is the purpose of your visit?"
"We are just looking for a place to stay before continuing our journey, Sir."
"Show me your badge and pass."
Randia took a badge that symbolizes a tree with two moons as its root from his backpack. A sign of a licensed medevist, a doctor who specializes in treating magic-related ailments and illnesses. They are quite common to be found in big cities as nobles highly value their work. However, it's uncommon to see such a muscular figure amongst medevistas. That is because their craft is often practised indoors and doesn't involve a big deal of physical prowess.
"And your pass?"
Randia’s hand moved again, this time pulling a small medallion from his pack. It gleamed with the distinct insignia of Rosmayne—a rose-shaped sapphire perched atop a platinum plate.
The guard stared at it blankly, not even the slightest reaction. “What’s this? I asked for your papers, not jewelry.”
Randia’s eyes darkened, though he kept his voice even. “That is all I have.”
The guard was growing impatient now, his tone less polite. “Get out of the line, then! No papers, no pass.”
Just as tension began to thicken, someone behind the guard smacked the back of his head with a force that made his kettle hat jingle.
“What the—!? Ah! Captain!”
The figure who’d struck him was an older, weathered knight. His face drained of color as he saw the badge.
“You fool!” the captain barked. “Don’t you know what that is!?”
The young guard blinked, still confused. “What? What’s the matter?”
“This is a Titulia!” the captain hissed, his voice suddenly reverent.
The young guard’s face blanched as if he had seen death itself. In the Queendom of Rosmayne, to cross someone who held the Rosela Titulia—a royal honor—was a mistake few could live to regret. The guard, now fully aware of the blunder, looked at Randia with wide eyes, his expression one of deep apology.
“F-Forgive me, Sir,” the guard stammered, bowing low. “I didn’t mean to—”
Randia held up a hand to silence him. “It’s alright. You were just doing your job.”
But the captain wasn’t about to let it go so easily. “As if a simple apology would suffice!” He shoved his subordinate aside. “Get lost! Go do your job somewhere else!”
The young guard scrambled off, face flushed with embarrassment, while the captain quickly turned back to Randia, now a picture of subservience.
“Good afternoon, Sir! Please forgive us for the trouble. May I accompany you to our humble town? There are a few places I’d recommend… Nothing grand, but I’ll make sure they do their best to please you.”
Randia raised a brow. “No need. We’ll just—”
“Oh! You brought your daughter with you!” The captain suddenly broke into a wide, slightly awkward smile and bent to greet Viena. “Hello, there! What a beautiful little lady you are!”
Viena immediately darted behind Randia, her hands clutching the back of his tunic, her eyes wary. She had little trust for guards—memories of her old hometown where they weren’t so friendly still stung.
The captain quickly straightened, sensing her discomfort. “Ah, I’m being too presumptuous, am I? Please, take this as a token of my apology.”
He extended a small, poorly tied sack to Viena, who hesitated, glancing up at Randia for approval. Randia gave a small nod, his hand resting gently on her head.
“Accepting his gift will make him feel at ease.”
Viena hesitated, then took the bag. Her curiosity got the better of her. She opened it, finding a few small, roughly made objects inside—round and hard, their colors bright and eye-catching.
"Um . . . Playing marbles?" Viena eyed the imperfect spherical object.
The guard captain chuckled softly and then shook his head.
"I'm sorry you might have mistaken it because it's not of the best quality. But, young lady, they are sweet treats."
Viena never had a candy although she had seen some beautiful ones back in her hometown. Hence, she immediately put one of them in her mouth. However, it doesn't take even six seconds for her to spit it back out on her hand.
"Eewk. It's so sour . . . ."
The captain flushed, clearly mortified. “Is it? I bought them for when I’m on night duty, to keep me awake.”
Randia, suppressing a smile, took the candy from Viena’s hand and popped it into his own mouth, nodding.
“It’s fine,” he said, before pulling two silver coins and a vial of warmth syrup from his pouch. “Here, for the trouble.”
The captain made several attempts to refuse, but Randia’s unyielding demeanor won out. In the end, he gave in, thanking him with deep bows. As they parted, Randia asked for directions to the town’s church and inn, exchanging a final few pleasantries before they moved on.
As they left the gates, Viena kept the small bag in her hand, her mind still whirling with thoughts of the mirror and the revelation about her eyes.
But as they walked into the heart of the town, the day felt just a little brighter. A small kindness, and maybe a step closer to understanding her place in a world that had always seemed so vast.
Now that they had entered the town, their next concern was rest. The streets bustled with people and chatter, and the smell of baked rye and firewood drifted faintly in the air. Randia and Viena walked side by side beneath tall stone buildings, their boots clicking softly against the cobbled roads.
They strolled quietly, scanning signboards, alleys, and the occasional noticeboard. Viena swung her arms lazily, clearly enjoying the walk despite their fatigue. Then, without warning, she tugged at Randia’s sleeve.
He looked down at her, his brows arching in mild question.
“Hey, Ran. Why did you give me blue of all colours?” she asked, pointing at her eyes, which now mirrored his own cerulean hue.
“For practical reasons,” Randia replied evenly. “To avoid suspicion. Similarity helps disarm questions.”
“By making us look like father and daughter, huh?” Viena grinned. “Then… what if I call you Dad from now on? Wouldn’t that make it even more convincing? Right? Right?”
Randia slowed to a halt.
He hadn’t expected that. Not the question. Not the smile. Not the careless innocence behind her words. He stared ahead, eyes unfocused, heart caught somewhere between a breath and a memory.
Dad.
It sounded simple enough. But the word stirred something half-buried in him—something brittle. Something that once longed to exist but had grown used to silence instead.
His tongue felt heavy, unresponsive. And though his face remained unreadable, a flicker of light, like the start of a fire in winter, passed through his eyes.
“Father? Dad?” Viena tilted her head up at him, clearly enjoying herself. “Or Papa, maybe? That sounds great, right?! Hmm? Hellooo? Papa?” she continued, poking at his side with a wide, teasing smile.
“Stop fooling around and tie your shoes properly,” Randia said, his voice low and a little rougher than usual.
“Huh?” Viena blinked, startled. “Ah—you're right! How’d you even notice?”
But Randia was already walking again, a step faster than before, his back straight and face turned away.
Not because he was annoyed.
But because he didn’t want her—or anyone else—to see the faint, foolish smile breaking on his lips. A smile that didn’t belong to the hardened medevist. A smile he thought he had forgotten how to make.
“Wait! Where are you going?! Don’t leave me! Raaaan!”
She stumbled after him with a laugh, hands flailing as she tried to retie her laces mid-step. Randia didn’t stop, but his pace was just slow enough to let her catch up. He would never admit it, but the name she called him stayed with him longer than it should have. And for once, he didn’t mind.