It took longer than expected, but Joseph was finally released into the lobby.

The space sprawled before him, an organized chaos contained within the outer walls. Imperial banners of the island of the Emperor hung from stone columns, their insignia a golden head resembling a lion roaring, the background a blue pattern with winding yellow lines.

Steam hissed from overhead pipes, people crowded every available space: refugees clutching paperwork, merchants filing complaints at processing desks, guards stationed at intervals like human pillars.

The noise somehow created its own kind of silence—a droning hum that swallowed individual voices whole.

Joseph waited on a bench, seemingly alone, but it was clear that guards always had their eyes on him.

He waited.

Minutes stretched like pulled taffy.

Hushed conversations that blended into the noise, the scratch of quills on parchment from the processing desks, the distant clang of metal doors opening and closing, Joseph immersed himself in it all.

Then, suddenly, he saw her.

Flanked by two guards, Rayah emerged from a side corridor, her white hair brilliant under the yellow gaslight.

Her posture was perfect, spine straight, chin level, walking gracefully as she always did. The red tinted sickness to her face had completely subsided, back to her natural complexion.

Her eyes stared ahead, unfocused as though looking at something that didn't exist.

She sat beside him without a sound.

…

When he expected words, she said nothing.

She was unusually quiet, even for her standards.

Finally, After long seconds, she spoke.

"I've calmed down."

"And not sick anymore," He commented.

"Yes," She gave him a single nod.

Joseph turned to her. "So what did they tell you?"

"It's all true. My funeral was around a month ago." Her voice was flat as still water. "The prison had an artifact that could recreate a body down to the DNA. They made it look like I died. My parents had no choice but to believe it." She paused, waving with a deep breath. "It makes sense."

"So they're coming to get us?" Joseph asked.

"No." She shook her head— a single shake. "It seems like my father wants me to use this opportunity to explore the world while he's busy. Busy with what? I'm not sure, but I'm certain it's important."

"More important than you?" Joseph leaned in closer.

"This is for my sake." She stretched, her tone unchanged, "A degenerate servant like you wouldn't understand. My initial expedition out of the Vandymion manor was the first time I ventured outside of Galica. It was a holy pilgrimage to the High Priestess, and it was also meant for me to explore the outside world. The time for the pilgrimage has passed, but to see the world, I still have the opportunity."

Her hands shook.

Joseph noticed. But he said nothing.

She sounded calm, composed even, but to him it was clear— It most certainly took her a long time to rationalize it all, and come to a logical but satisfactory conclusion.

In the end, he simply smiled.

"Did you get any information on that orb the man carried? Or if there were other survivors from the prison that made it to the city?"

"I tried, but no answers. They say it's confidential."

"Makes sense."

Silence. Joseph looked around— He looked at guards pretending not to watch, at scattered people on benches, at the world simply being.

Then, almost absently, he spoke.

"Sooooo, where do we go from here?"

"I don't know... Monkey." She sighed.

"At least we made it into the city quick."

"I know what you did," She narrowed her eyes, looking straight towards him.

"I know you know!" Joseph showed no concern.

They made eye contact, and there was mutual understanding. Joseph knew she would ask about it later, but he had already prepared his answers.

Suddenly, odd movement at the far end of the lobby caught their attention.

It was that same guard—the squad captain with the scar. She was approaching them, her face usually stern like stone, looked odd, as though it began draining of all colour.

Then she entered a room on the side of the corridor.

In that moment, the two guards who came with Rayah finally approached them.

"Follow us"

They escorted them to another empty room, away from the public.

They were escorted down a side hallway, away from the public eye, into a small administrative room. The room had plain walls with a single clock, a table, three chairs. The guards brought them inside then retreated, closing the door with a heavy thunk.

The scarred female captain stood alone with them.

There was a subtle rattle to her body. Her lips were dry, and her nails fidgetted on her palm.

Her expression shifted, eyes wavering as she looked down…

Then suddenly—

*CRASH*

She dropped to her knees, forehead striking the floor hard enough to crack the wood.

"Please forgive me, Mistress Rayah!" Her voice cracked. "Not only did I not believe you, I even insulted you and struck you! I am utter scum that deserves to be stripped of rank and cast into the gutters! I beg for your forgiveness! I will accept any punishment!"

Rayah's eyes flickered downward.

She didn't react, as if she expected it, gotten used to it even.

The woman was almost twice as tall as her. Certainly twice as old. Yet here she shivered and prostrated herself, forehead pressed to wood, body trembling like a leaf in a storm.

Rayah's eyes remained the same.

She didn't beat her.

She didn't gloat.

She didn't scream.

She was still.

Quiet.

Normally she'd be happy about this. Excited, elated even. But now it felt odd. I see no joy in her eyes. Joseph thought.

Tick… …. Tick … … … tick … …. …. …. the clock spun.

Seconds ticked like hours.

Until Rayah's voice broke the tension.

"Rise," She ordered plainly.

Still shaking, the guard obeyed, getting to her feet.

"Rise!" Rayah's voice rose slightly louder, "It means your whole body! Raise your head!"

She did as told, revealing her expression. It was like her face was completely white, devoid of all colours. Like, she awaited a guillotine from it's inevitable snap.

"Indeed, you've done a grave mistake, and let your ego shroud your judgment. You have no valid excuse for the utter hardship and embarrassment you've placed upon me. If I saw it fit, I'd have you ruined,"

The captain swallowed hard. "Yes. I wouldn't blame you, Mistress."

"But I won't,"

Confusion flickered across the guard's face. "I... Mistress?"

"Just make it up to me. Show you are truly sorry. It could be now, in a week, in a month. Just make it happen. Understood?"

"CRYSTAL CLEAR!! I am so grateful for your mercy! I will do all I can! No, even more than I thought possible!" She bowed her head, snapping ninety degrees.

Tick tick tick tick tick—

It felt like time began to resume again, no, it felt like the clock ticked even faster, like her sinking heart rose back into place.

"Good, that is all, now, what is your name?" Rayah let out a deep breath.

"Berry," She gulped. "My name is Berry, mistress!"

"You may leave then, continue on with your duties,"

"U—understood! I will never forget this mercy!"

There is no way… Was this truly the youngest daughter of the Vandymions? Some rumours I heard about her painted her as ruthless without a single shred of compassion… Berry thought.

Quick, almost mechanical, making sure to bow once again, squad captain Berry took her leave.

Like clockwork, the two guards from earlier entered the room.

"Come with us,"

They'd been ordered to escort Joseph and Rayah through the outer walls and into the city proper. As for what came after, that was still a mystery.

They walked back through the lobby, Joseph noting the layout—the corridors, the exits, the flow of people through the space. In his head, he made a mental map of the level of technology of the era— gaslamps, ironwork, and polished stone.

As they neared the main entrance, Joseph caught sight of a familiar face— a small brown haired boy sat on a bench.

The guards looked slightly annoyed but didn't show it much or interject, but Joseph noticed. He always did.

"Darren! How's it been!"

The boy's head snapped up, eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

"S—Sir Zephyr…? Uhhh… It's... It's been fine..." He quickly wiped at his face, trying to erase the evidence of fresh tears. "I'm sorry…" He sniffled.

"Sorry for what!?" Joseph raised an eyebrow, sitting next to him.

"I didn't thank you for all you did… You and Miss Rayah are the only reason I'm even alive…"

Joseph grinned at his words. "Oh it was nothing! We did what we had to! Do you still think Rayah is mean?" He asked.

"Yes... Very mean..." Darren's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "But still... I thank her..."

"I see…" Joseph smiled wider. "So, update me! What's it gonna be for you from now on!"

"Uhhh.. ummm." The boy fidgeted. "They said they'd put me in a special foster home within the city. That it wouldn't take long to find a new family."

They're giving him special treatment? Joseph noted with nod. "Did you not have any other family?" He then asked.

"Uh uh…" He shook his head, "It was only me and papa… mama died when I was very very little… I don't know anyone else…"

Joseph took a deep breath, and stood. "Well! I'm glad! I'm so relieved I ran into you on our way out! I was worried about you! You're a strong kid ya know? You're dealing with this much better than most adults! Keep it up!"

"Ummmm… So what are your plans too Sir Zephyr?"

"Us? We're gonna explore the city a bit!"

"I wish I could come with you…"

"Even with Rayah coming along?"

"Yes, of course," He nodded. "But I can't… I have to stay waiting here…"

Joseph ruffled the boy's hair. "You'll get your own adventures soon enough. New family, new home, new city to explore. That's pretty exciting, right? Your dad would want you to live a long, happy life right? To keep smiling, right?"

Darren managed a small smile. "I guess so."

"That's the spirit. As long as you keep living, you will keep his memory alive. Always remember that! Take care of yourself, kid. I have to go now before the others eat me alive! I hope we run into each other soon!"Joseph straightened, gave a final wave, and rejoined Rayah and the guards.

"Me too…"

Darren watched them go. His gaze drifted to Rayah, who stood at a distance, carefully avoiding eye contact with him, but still looking. Her posture was cold as usual.

At first, he was scared.

But for some reason, looking at her closely, Darren felt warmth.

As their backs turned toward the exit, disappearing into the flow of the crowd, Darren whispered under his breath.

"Thank you both… I'll try… my best…"

___

Little did he know, it was due to them that his only family, his father, had died.

It was all by the hands of those he idolized.

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