DAY 42-1: BLUFF

   He doesn't have a face.

   Despite being perched on her bed for a day now, it's the one thing that stands out like a blot in her mind.

   Ro didn't have much of anything, for that matter. The being she saw lying in that room hadn't even looked like him.

   Protruding skeleton and organs through jagged flesh. Relentless blood seeping through useless bandages. Deep frostbite considering he had no decent skin to shield the effects.

   Even his breathing was faint and almost nonexistent.

"A Mond, huh? I haven't seen one of you since I was a little boy. And that was in a picture book."

Although Leda had appreciated Mavix's nonchalance when she woke up, it's now become an annoying buzz in her ears. She knows she owes him for sheltering and caring for them—a group of strangers—but that's it. No talk about a cure, or what to do. What they can do.

As if it doesn't matter.

As if Ro on the verge of death doesn't mean a thing.

"Master Leda." Orian's green eyes are filled with sorrow as he offers her water. "You should drink, at least."

"Couldn't you tell he used a spell?"

He freezes at her question. Mavix calmly sips a glass of wine from where he is. It sickens Leda.

"As I previously told you," Orian says, "magic is something everyone within Annadia can use, and it varies amongst the suits. Spades in particular are blessed by the Monglow fairies so they are born with extremely durable bodies. They are also taught from a young age to use glamour spells."

   "Glamour?" she asks. Mavix had once mentioned that.

   "It refers to appearance. They can change the way they look at will." Orian's face hardens. "I had sensed something strange about Master Ro from the moment we met... but I didn't think it was too big of a—"

   "Deal?" Leda doesn't care that her voice has surpassed a weak whimper, or that the glare her eyebrows knit into sends him jolting from the bed. "He isn't even alive, Orian. Not like that. He hasn't been since we found him and yet we pushed him to this edge. And now he's... he's..."

   This entire trip's been too much to swallow. It started off so peaceful. They interacted like it was normal.

   Leda bites her lower lip, blinking back hot tears. First Nixon, and now Ro.

   "With that illness, most Spades are too weak to use a spell, much less one to that calibre," Orian mumbles, frowning heavily as well. "But Master Ro is stubborn. He pushed himself to his limit to keep it up. To ensure his citizens wouldn't lose hope in the royal family. To go on trip after trip searching desperately for a cure. He wanted to save them so badly. That's why he..."

"How can I ever expect to die when I've made up to mind to save my citizens—my family? I will not leave this world until I find a cure. That is something I have decided long ago."

Ro's words flit to her mind.

Her arms clasp around her knees, and she keeps her face buried. It's difficult to breathe, and her chest hurts. You better not die then, Ro, her mind whispers, pleadingly. You can't die yet.

She grinds her teeth so hard they nearly shatter. They have to save him. They have to. But... how are they supposed to?

"All hope isn't lost, you know. You still haven't seen a quack."

Leda's ears perk.

"Everyone in Straeh specializes in various wizardry." Mavix lowers his glass. He doesn't even lift a finger. Books from the shelves dart towards him. The pages flip automatically, revealing a multitude of maps. "If you want to look for a cure for your friend—though I doubt there is one—you're going to have to head into Compa and ask to see a proper quack."

Images of rowdy ducks flood Leda's head, summoning a new wave of confusion.

"Quack?" Orian voices.

"They're what we call a wizard who specializes in medicine," Mavix replies as he scoops a map and countless supplies into hand. "A doctor."

Clothing floats in the air. A purplish-pink outfit lands at the foot of Leda's bed. Another perches on Orian's arm, the one he can still move.

With another flick of his wand, a hat hovers onto Mavix's head. He ascends to his feet and a feathery coat drapes his shoulders. "I don't recommend heading outside in your condition, miss. But, your health is less dire than that Spade's at the moment."

"You're speaking as if you won't be coming along," Orian points out.

Despite his smile, Mavix shakes his head. He clutches a mauve-coloured briefcase to his chest. "I'm afraid this is where I must take my leave. Seeing as I've got business Pashee, I must be heading off. I'll let you use this lodge in the meantime."

"Wait," Leda says, springing off the bed. "We still don't know anything about Straeh. Where exactly are these quacks?"

"I'm sure if you head into town you can ask around for one," he responds. "I've already played my part in this illegal hoarding of a Spade and his accomplices. The rest is up to you."

Leda stiffens like a board. That's right. Hearts and Spades are enemies.

"You knew he was a Spade?" Leda says, her chapped lips surging together. "And yet you still helped us?"

"I don't hate Spades as much as other Hearts might," he excuses with a titter. "Hating another because of our history, and not for who they are—I believe it's a lil' immoral. Besides, I've gotten enough amusement from having saved you three."

Leda glances at a silent Orian. He has his left arm strung in a slinky, the jacket Mavix has given him in his other. But his features are tight, as if in turmoil, like her. It's difficult to tell if Mavix really is their enemy or is just plain aloof.

Nevertheless, Leda collects the fluffy purple coat, eyeing the pink hearts engraved onto every inch of it.

"You must blend in well if you wish to save your friend," he muses, once again fiddling with his stache. "Though, I guess one of you should stay and keep house—keep an eye on him."

Leda's shoulders square, knowing he has a point. When she meet Orian's eyes, he bobs his head in immediate submission. Gratefulness surges through her at once.

"Be careful, Master."

She grips the fabric closer to herself. "We're saving Ro."

It ends up a whisper, but there isn't a single fragment of timidity in her heart. She says it over and over again in her mind, a mantra to keep her sanity. And each time, she's flooded with even more courage.

"It doesn't require magic to cause a miracle." Like always, it takes only a few words of kindness to restore her wavering determination—reestablish the conviction that's boiled in her blood since she first arrived in Edaps. "The most important thing is to believe when everyone else thinks it's impossible. No matter what lies ahead, you must never give up, miss."

Her lips tilt upwards. "Thank you, Mavix."

He breaks out into a boisterous laugh. He seems to always be enjoying himself. "Don't thank me," he replies. "I'm a man through and through. I'd do anything for a pretty lady."

All at once, a gust of frosty air billows through. Leda shuts her eyes tight, ignoring the flurry of snow that engulfs her once heated surroundings.

His raucous laugh is the last thing she hears. "Take care, you two! I hope you find what you want in Straeh."

The air is restricting. Like friction, she can't press forward—open her eyes—no matter how hard she tries. He's worked yet another spell.

Leda drops her arm from her face when the wind fades. Orian does the same, ears twitching in just as much bewilderment. She stares ahead at the wide open front door, and at the wintry breeze blowing through.

Then, with another glance at the attire, she balls her fingers into fists.

No more giving up.

♥♦♣♠

   If Edaps is full of serene nature, Straeh is like a diamond in a rough. A winter wonderland. In spite of the dove grey sky and slippery slopes, the sun radiates through the clouds, causing the mass white to sparkle. Leda treads down the rough forest terrain, ensuring she keeps to the carefully carved path. When she finally reaches a clearing, her eyes trail across the expanse ahead.

She expects the city of Compa to look like an unfinished painting. Where the tall ice fortresses' are white like a brand new canvas, waiting for an artist to pepper it with colour.

But it's not like that at all.

Similar to Mavix's use of his magic, the city is bursting with twinkling hues. They dance across the sky, carried to and fro by a gentle breeze.

Soft jazz music hangs in the air. Leda traces it to crowd of purple-haired people, strumming large but odd looking instruments. Children energetically dance along while what looks like couples flirt left and right.

Leda's eyes nearly bulge when she spots two people in particular kiss only for pretty fireworks and hearts to float and explode above them.

She understands it's through the use of magic, but damn. Those magical, fictional kisses can really happen here.

Despite visiting with a goal, Leda's entirely entranced. At passing stands selling strange wands and elixirs, levitating plants and knick-knacks. Even glowing fruit and novel cuisine.

There's nothing but spells and lightheartedness all around. A kingdom of magic.

A kingdom of wizards.

"Duck!"

Leda's heart jumps to her throat. Right when she swivels to locate the shout, she's knocked at the back of the head. She tumbles face-first towards the snow. But the impact never comes.

   Her eyelids flutter rapidly. She fights a gasp.

   Five centimetres.

   That's all there's left between her face and the ground. And she's not connecting. Like she's froze...

   "Are you all right, my lady?"

   She can't put the voice to a face. But when her hand is taken in another's, it's like the spell is broken. She's yanked upwards and into the person's chest, their fluffy coat a better alternative than the ground. Leda finds herself staring into mint eyes. Like glass, they shimmer against his cream-coloured skin. It complements his silky purple hair that reaches his back with ease.

A pearly smile pins up his mouth, more so upon eye-contact. Then with a hold on Leda's shoulders he shifts his gaze behind them.

"Surely you're free to do whatever you please, but don't you think your actions were a little harsh? What would've happened if you hurt this lady?"

Leda has to forcefully pry her eyes from the handsome man and redirect her attention towards three boys. They descend from the sky in a circular motion. On brooms, to boot. All three are dressed in rather formal uniforms, the boy in front a pouty mess.

"I apologize for us all, miss," he says, fiddling his pointed hat and heavy satchel. "We were in such a hurry to complete our deliveries that we didn't watch where we were going."

The three drop into a mannerly bow.

"Please forgive us," they say in unison.

The townspeople carry on, as if they're not worth watching. As if this happens all the time. Leda, on the other hand, has to bite her tongue to keep from gawking once more.

The young man returns his wowing eyes to hers, a brilliant grin in tow. "Well, what do you say, my lady? Are they forgiven?"

At first, Leda can't speak. "For... I mean, I'm not too... I mean, brooms? Magic brooms... Floating... How...?"

Puzzled, the man draws his face even closer. His left eyebrow cocks. "Are you sure you're all right, my lady?"

The term almost makes Leda swoon. She retreats from the man, doing her best to come to terms with these strangers' display of manners and ultimately, the entire situation.

She whips her head vigorously. They think she's a weirdo. No Heart citizen would react this exaggeratedly to flying brooms and wizardry abilities. Much less little kids working such dignified jobs.

It's all normal. At least, here.

"Fine!" Leda declares, much louder (and less coherent) than she anticipates. "Not hurt. Proceed with floating on your magical brooms."

Not only a couple passersby, even the kids stare at her strangely. Her cheeks burn from embarrassment. Fortunately, the man shoos them off before long. They leap back onto their brooms, elevate into the air and zoom across the sky, leaving streaks of colour as they do.

Leda watches as a speckles of red and yellow overlap, bringing a tangy tint before her eyes. Following the colours trickling down alongside snowflakes in the murky sky, her memories trails back to when she first stepped into the city. So these sparkles are coming from the brooms? Is it because of magic? Nevertheless, it really is fantastical...

"My lady." Leda traces the voice to the man. A hand positioned at his chest, his heart-spangled sleeve swings as he offers her his free arm. "Care to join me for lunch?"

Leda forces down her surprise. My lady? Is he talking to her? "Actually," she says, inching back, "I have someone I must find—"

"But you've already found him."

Beaming broadly, he loops his arm through hers. He drags her off before she can argue. With the snap of his fingers, an umbrella appears over their heads, shielding them from the gentle snowfall. They pass giggling couples who similarly cling onto each other, chatting without a care in the world.

Leda's stomach forms into a knot. She frees her arm.

"Um, look," she says, darting her gaze towards the masses. A quack. A doctor. "I'm flattered, really, but I'm in a hurry. Unless you have something important to say— What the hell! Are those people summoning animals?"

Leda can't help but gander at the horde of students they pass. A prim looking wizard stands in front, calling them up to a pedestal one by one.

"Summoning familiars is the most basic form of magic in Straeh," the man responds, merrily. "You learn it in Arensals throughout your younger schooling life. Then, once you reach a particular level of skill, you are chosen to train as an apprentice to specialize in whichever magical class you're best suited for."

"Wow," Leda says. So they went to magic schools? Mavix did say there are different classes of wizards. "And what happens if you don't reach a particular level of skill?" she asks. "Do you not get chosen for a class?"

For some reason, her inquiry makes the male explode into a bark of laughter. She reels, her eyelids peeling back.

"What?" she asks.

He dismisses it with a wave. Leda's stomach uneasily clenches. Why does he laugh as if that's not even an option?

"My fair lady." He takes her hand in his, the warmth seeping through. However, before Leda can retreat, he drops onto one knee. His entrancing eyes remain glued to hers. "I know this may be sudden, and we've just met, but I truly feel as if we are connected."

Her heart jolts in newfound astonishment. She carefully jerks her head left and right.  "Wh-what are you—"

"It may seem illogical. Incredulous, even," he goes on, unwavering passion in his gaze, "but believe me when I say you are the one for me. You're the other half of my heart I've waited my entire life to reconnect with."

He brings the back of Leda's hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. Sparks shoot up her spine. She's not sure if it's another spell or her body reacting, but her nerves have constricted her airways entirely.

"Now that I've met you," he continues, softly, "I cannot return. My heart belongs to you, and only you, my lady. Let's spend forever together."

Like a zap of electricity, Leda recoils. She stumbles so far back she nearly tumbles. But she's saved by a quick arm circling her waist, keeping her propped. On par to a noble, the man stands poised. His crystalline eyes lock with hers.

"I fell in love," he says as her heart races. She shoves him incessantly but it proves too difficult to get away. "With you. Not for how exotic and gorgeous you appear—though you are definitely mesmerizing—but because I can feel your spirit. A heart that is consumed with so much love; a heart meant for mine."

Leda slaps him, hissing, "You're crazy!"

"For you." He sustains a tight grip. "You must marry me."

Leda flings her hands to his chest with enough force to throw him off balance. They collapse to the ground together. Leda groans at the impact, but everything in her gut is screaming for her to run away from this lunatic. Before she can get away, however, he clasps his fingers around her boot.

"Wait! My lady!"

"I'm not yours!" Leda hisses, kicking at his face. "I only came here for help—a quack! My friend's in trouble!"

"Your... friend?" he echoes. Although she buries the heel of her shoe into his cheek, he keeps a vice hold. "Why desire a friend when you can have me for eternity?"

Leda claws for freedom, but it's not easy getting away. Nobody is doing anything about this madness either. Stupid citizens! "Because," she eventually rasps, struggling to catch her breath, "he's—he's going to die!"

When she kicks him straight across the forehead, she's finally liberated. Ignoring the aching of her limbs, she hoists herself to her feet. Then jerks her head around.

That's right. She has no time to be fooling around. A quack. A quack...

"Is it an emergency?"

Leda's heart stops. She recoils. The man helps himself to standing and rubs at his head—the place she's wounded him. There's not even a flicker of guilt reflected on his face. He's entirely calm.

   Leda keeps as much distance between them as she can. But she can't run. Not yet.

"Do you know where I can find a quack?"

   The question sounds just as incredulous as it does in her head. But to her surprise, he merely produces another pearly smile.

"Like I've said, you've already found what you're looking for." He taps at his head and automatically, a big white priest hat makes an appearance. A bag of what she assumes is filled with doctoral equipment follows. "Where's your friend?"

Leda's breath hitches in her throat. "Are you—"

"Avel Hestia, quack," he introduces, eyelids fluttering innocently. "Oh, and I'm also the prince of the Straeh Kingdom so I have a lot of credibility around here."

"P-p-p—"

He ignores Leda's gawking and incoherent stuttering with full-blown smile and wink.

"It's a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance, my lady."