Martha descended the creaking wooden stairs, her eyelids weighed down by the lingering embrace of slumber. The struggle to acclimate herself to the daylight that seeped through the barely parted curtains was evident in her every blink. Her quest began with a scan for her daughter's presence—there was only one place she could be found at a time like this.

With each step, deliberate and measured, she trod with care, careful not to fall victim to her own home—her clothes would get caught in the oddest of places, tripping her. The journey led her to Alicia's chamber, a rite etched into her daily routine. There, Martha intended to burst forth, flinging wide the curtains, and awakening her prone-to-oversleeping child. Yet, a strange feeling filled the room as Alicia, always a heavy sleeper, evaded her mother's sight—where could she be?

Martha's journey led her to the living room, where she eventually found her. Alicia stood bathed in the gentle radiance of the sun, her gaze drawn outward, toward the garden of blossoms, painting their Manor's entrance. Perhaps the years of service and training in the army had changed that little girl Martha once knew—it had been long enough for something to alter her daughter, anything.

"By the gods, you're up before the sun today," Martha said, joining Alicia on the balcony.

Alicia smiled. "You act like it's a rare sight, Mother."

"It is," Martha said. "You should have become a knight sooner. It would have spared me many sleepless nights, and my voice some strain."

"Come on, I wasn't that bad," Alicia said, her eyes twinkling. "I was a darling child."

"Is that so?" Martha said. "Well, if that was your darling side, I best not think of your disruptive side."

They laughed together. Martha's eyes then settled on the sword resting against the balcony rail.

"What?" Alicia asked softly, sensing her mother's curiosity.

"Nothing," Martha said. "It's just... time flies so fast, doesn't it?"

Alicia's smile faded.

Alicia's smile tugging her cheeks loosened, just for a moment. She tried to force it back but Martha caught it—nothing ever escaped that woman's insight, nothing. She could see the storm brewing inside her daughter.

"I know you don't like to talk about him much," Martha said. "But it's alright. Words are not as important as memories, and your face tells me everything," Martha's voice was soft and soothing as if she was treading on thin ice.

"What face?" Alicia asked, caught off guard.

"I know you better than you know yourself, daughter," Martha said. "Did something happen last night between you and the king?"

"It's nothing to worry about, Mother," Alicia said. Her eyes fell back to the sword once more. 

Martha despised blatant lies. But she had grown to ease her maternal touch to one lie, one she had disregarded and allowed to fester too deep a wound within her daughter's mind, and her tongue with which she perpetuated it. It gave her comfort, albeit a temporary one. While her tongue and mind would often engage in falsehoods, her eyes never did. Perhaps this was because Martha knew herself well enough to recognize her own deceitful emotes in her daughter—they were mirrors of each other, both in body and mind. And perhaps it was with this shared union of traits that she knew what Alicia needed most of all at that moment. She knew.

"Come with me, daughter," she said, resignation in her tone.

Alicia followed her mother's lead.

The dawn broke over Heagen town, a gentle awakening from the night's slumber. A thin mist hung over the land, cloaking everything in a soft embrace. The sun, a shy but persistent guest, cast its first golden rays through the thick canopy of trees, creating a play of light and shadow. 

It was spring, a season of rain, flowers, and allergies. It was also the season of the infamous long shadow, a northern-exclusive phenomenon. At the beginning of the year, the sun would rise East, ride across the sky, and set West, but as the seasons progressed, its path would morph and tilt northwards, setting shadows to face North in the dawn and South in Dusk—But the long shadow would form in the dusk, wide enough to blanket the lands from the edges of the horizon to the far end of whatever lands lay South. It was the Shadow of the Ebon, cast when the sun drifted over the wall and the Eldertine blocked its shine. Royal Republic was closer to the Eldertine Walls than people thought, and most tourists would often visit just for the sake of witnessing this phenomenon.

They made their way to the Memorial Park that crowned a hill overlooking Hegan town and Royal Republic, a guardian of stone and memory. Its old trees spoke of a time long gone when heroes walked the land and legends were born.

At the center of the park stood the Grand Monument, a towering obelisk of granite engraved with the name of the former king.

Around the Grand Monument were several smaller memorials, each honoring heroes, their names etched into the stone in letters of gold, names of those who faced the Vurhans and never returned.

Alicia and her mother stopped at one of the memorials, a vine tendril obscuring the inscription on the plaque atop its weathered stone.

"Damn these invaders!" Martha said, her fingers grasping the tendril and tearing it off with feminine strength, graceful yet fierce. She set down a basket next to the memorial and pulled out a cloth from inside.

Alicia watched her mother clean away the dirt, her gaze distant, as if she were looking at her mother from afar. She had never come with her to the memorial before— it was her first time stepping foot in this park, yet she felt as if she belonged there.

"Here," Martha said, handing Alicia a bundle of incense sticks. "Help me light these up."

Alicia took the incense sticks and started to light them one by one, the smoke curling upwards and carrying with it the fragrance of sandalwood and jasmine. She saw her mother place the incense sticks in smallholders around the base of the memorial, their flames dancing in the gentle wind.

Martha stood up and dusted herself off. "There," she said, looking at the memorial with satisfaction. "Now, follow my lead."

Alicia stood up as well, and together they walked up to the memorial. They knelt and bowed their heads, their fingers touching lightly on the cold stone, daughter mirroring her mother's movements.

Alicia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the scent of the incense and the sensation of the wind in her hair. Her father's face flashed behind her eyelids, a phantom of memory, yet it brought with it a trace of warmth and familiarity. She frowned, trying to concentrate, to capture his essence before it faded away.

Then his face appeared clearly in her mind's eye, and she smiled. There he was. It had been so long since she had seen him, even in her dreams. She thought about him often, of course, but those were just fleeting thoughts, like the gentle breeze that rustled through the leaves. But now, as his face and kind smile filled her head, she could not stop the tear that rolled down her cheek.

"I miss you so much, Father," she whispered to herself.

She opened her eyes and cherished the memory of his face, the memory of his love. She could see him now, as vividly as if he were standing right before her. He was smiling, his eyes shining with a noble pride.

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was still in the park, but she no longer felt alone. She turned to her mother, and Martha's smile carried the delicate weight of her father's memory, softly spoken in the language of love.

I'll leave you some time," Martha said, her voice gentle. "Take all the time you need before you leave, daughter. You needed this so." She reached for her basket, her eyes reading the look in her daughter's eyes.

"Thank you, Mother, for this," Alicia said softly.

Martha nodded and walked away, her basket swaying gently at her side. Alicia turned back to the memorial, savoring the feeling that washed over her. It was a feeling of peace, of belonging, of home. Her mother did know her too well, that she acknowledged, at least.

She had needed this, more than she had realized. The pain and grief had become a burden, masking it beneath her obsession with training, the army, and everything in between did little to help. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe again.

She closed her eyes, letting her senses indulge in the incense once more. She felt the sun on her skin and the wind in her hair. Whatever could she do to live the rest of her life in this moment?

Her eyes fell to the monument at the end of the line, near the hedge, as if it called to her. It was strangled in dodders, its weathered surface barely visible from a distance. An eye sore, she thought. It was like a beggar in a gala, overshadowed by tendrils, its lettering obscured by soil and dirt. Perhaps her new tranquil state had blessed her with eyes that saw things in a new light.

Alicia approached the monument, as it called to her, and she answered. She knelt down and gently brushed away the dirt and debris, revealing the faded inscription. 'DAITO HASHI'.

Alicia's eyes lifted and scanned the area once more. Each plaque was well-maintained, except for that one single one. And how could the name of the Dark Bender's successor be tucked so far out on the main piece of the monument? He was just as important as the King who boasted a piece large enough to house people.

These questions Alicia was asking could never be answered, and she knew that. So she pushed them down and continued cleaning the monument.

She gently scrubbed the stone with her handkerchief, careful not to damage the faded lettering, until the plaque was shining again. Then she stepped back to admire her work. While other State Guards were probably out celebrating their achievement, there she was, soiling her hands, cleaning the monument of a forgotten soul. Maybe She had changed too fast?

Alicia finally walked away from the monument after a long stare. She looked back over her shoulder, and for a moment, she had the feeling that she could see the spirits of the dead gathered around the monument, watching her leave.

She smiled.

#

Alicia stepped through the towering gates of the knight garrison, her eyes flashing with pride. She had trained here since she was a teenager, it was her second home.

The garrison, a symphony of clashing steel and whinnying horses. Knights in shining armor drilled in the courtyard, their swords and lances flashing in the sunlight as they practiced their stances and strikes. Alicia's heart swelled with excitement as she watched them, her blood thrumming with the desire to join in— combat was what drew her into being a soldier in the first place. But ever since declaring to be a State Guard candidate, her sword was dropped for a pen and her shield was swapped for paper. She hated it— how did those several tests matter when a Vurhan was staring you down? Will you strike it down with good handwriting? She was glad it was over with. Now she could get back to what truly mattered.

To her right, the gifted knight guards harnessed their elemental prowess of the Weaving, practicing their art that seemed alien to others, bending earth to their will and weaving fire, like knitting threads. Another aspect she had to endure—learning about the magical arts. State Guards had to know everything about the Gifted. Or else how would you expect to lead a battalion of Earthweavers if you did not know of their affinity? The scholar's still rang in her ears. 

She turned her attention to the headquarters, which loomed over the garrison like a sleeping giant. It was a magnificent structure, its walls made of thick stone and its towers reaching high into the sky. Alicia's eyes narrowed as she stared at the palace. She had never been allowed to enter, but she had always dreamed of one day walking through its doors as a State Guard of the realm. Finally, she was worthy of the words within those walls, and she planned to walk in and show everyone inside that she was worthy.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, inhaling the mingled scents of sweat, steel, and horse. She could feel the energy of the place coursing through her veins, like lightning in a storm cloud. 

"There you are!"

A voice startled Alicia out of her reverie. It had a familiar lilt to it. She turned to see Reene's bright eyes, though he ducked his head into his broad shoulders, as if embarrassed.

"Reene!" she exclaimed, more warmly than she expected, startling herself.

"Alicia," he said, his voice softening as he clasped her hand firmly, his other hand resting on her shoulder. Alicia didn't mind the roughness—she had fought men with rougher handling.

"This place can be a bit daunting for outsiders," she said, holding back a smile.

Reene grinned. "Aye, that it can. I've been roaming around for ages, trying to find my way to the main hall in the headquarters."

"Well, you're in luck," Alicia said. "I'm heading there now. Come on, I'll show you the way."

They set off through the garrison, Alicia leading the way.