Ersia: Raven Dawn

It's a new morning in Fleurein. Viena, being used to getting up early in the morning, is already sweeping the floor. Randia told her that being a good guest means that she must be done with her chores before the owner of the house wakes up. Eleanor, who was an early riser as well, feels most pleased as she watches them.

"She's such a sweet sugar. How did you manage to raise such a girl? Was it your wife?"

". . . Yes. I suppose so."

Eleanor expected a more hearty answer for her small talk instead of a veiled one. Sensing that her guest was still hesitant to feel at home, she decided to take a different approach. To feel at ease is to be free from the mist, knowing this, Eleanor sought to speak more about her hearth, its warmth, and its ashes.

 "Seeing your daughter lets me glimpse into my dream-like past. Lisabelle used to be like her. All noisy and smiley."

Randia stopped wiping the plates and cutleries for a moment before he continued with a quieter noise than he previously did. Meanwhile, Eleanor goes on separating lavaberries from its seeds.

"You might have known by now, judging by this house alone, that we used to be pretty well-off."

Indeed. The furnishings, decorations, and size of the house speak a lot about Eleanor as they are clearly way above the average houses. Especially the personal water plumbing that diverts the flow of the public aqueduct. However, they are also hinting of a glory long gone, since the place is too big for only two people to live in.

"My husband and I used to be prominent merchants. Our guild used to procure the crown family's need for garments."

Randia noticed the trademark stamped on the edge of one of the blankets he aired earlier. It was a trading guild that procured the crown family garments, which also happened to be the one who commissioned the cloak pins of Asmar and his closest comrades. If what Eleanor said is true, then her husband must not be a stranger to Randia.

"Graham . . . Arbon?"

"Oh? So, you know of my husband," Eleanor chuckled.

Years ago, when Randia was still on his campaign with his comrades, no one in the continent doesn't know the Arbon Company. They are the first ones to introduce 'arcane weaving' techniques to the world, as well as the patent system for their various other inventions, mainly in garments.

"Arbon company went bankrupt? I thought they would last for a hundred years."

"Oh my, haha. Come now, you're giving us too much credit. However, to do them justice, I must tell you that the company didn't go bankrupt. They are now merely handed over to someone more suitable."

Eleanor lets out a big sigh as she gazes at the glistening edge of her knife, longing for something unreachable.

"A lot happened since the day I lost my daughter and my son-in-law. Do you know how it feels to bury your own child, Mister Ran?"

Randia says nothing. He kept his mouth shut and made as little noise as possible.

"It was the kind of pain that no word of men or gods could ever explain. Now, imagine that you have to do it three times over."

The old lady recalled the memory of the bleakest days in her life. How could she forget when she had to hold three funerals in a week? The heartache is unbearable, and sorrow eats away at her soul, dragging her slowly to insanity. Almost everyone that she loved the most was taken away in an instant.

"Three nights after I buried my beloved ones, I was this close to taking mine," she makes a gesture denoting a really close gap with her index and thumb.

"However, when I'm half done slicing, Lisabelle knocks on my door. She calls me over and over again. I closed my ears, trying to ignore her. Until she finally cried and asked if I was going to leave her also . . . At that very moment, I realized that I had to be strong for her. However, it was too late."

Eleanor sheds some tears, but immediately wipes them up. She shook her head, trying to get her head back to what she was doing. Yet, even retelling only the bits and pieces of those dark days takes much more than she thought.

"One thing that I regretted more than being unable to be there during my loved one's last breath, was the fact that I failed to be strong when my strength was most needed. Because ever since those days, I had never seen her crying, and she only laughed so little. It feels to me like she only smiles and laughs when she feels the need to. Only so I don't worry about her."

Randia doesn't react one bit. It's as if he isn't listening at all. Things of heart were never his forte, and thus he never knew how to act properly during such a moment.

"I'm so sorry, this is such a bad topic for a fine morning. I must have spoiled your mood."

"You should not worry about me. I might not be the best to show it, but I'm listening thoughtfully. Thank you for sharing."

". . . Thank you for listening. I sincerely wish that you will never have to feel the same way."

Meanwhile, Viena had finished her job. She went to the living room to take a glass of water and found that the two were quite engrossed in their little talk.

"What are you two talking about? I want to listen!"

"We were talking about the next chores you need to do. And we think you should start moving the flower pots outside."

"Huuh? But I just finished sweeping the floor! And the pots are big!"

Eleanor chuckled and called for Viena.

"Thank you for helping around, little sugar. Now, why don't you come here and help this old lady bake some sweets?"

"Sweets?! For real?!"

"Absolutely!"

"Let's go!"

Randia's lips crack a little smile, although it vanishes almost as quickly as before. Then he finished the rest of the chores in Viena's place before relaxing on the chair in the kitchen.

Seeing Viena having fun helping Eleanor with the dough and baking the cookies sparks something inside him. It feels uncomfortable, bothering, out of place, but warm. When she runs to him and wipes some of the flour on his cheeks with cheerful laughter makes it clear to him that she has become something special to him, something that he wants to keep safe. Even when Viena was busy with so much fun, Randia never slipped her mind.

"You are going to regret that," said Randia.

"Oh yeah? And what about it? Gonna cry?"

Using his magic, Randia creates a small whirl of wind that collects the flour and dredges it on Viena's face. The little girl ended up sneezing a few times.

"That's cheating!"

"You could've done the same if you had the skill."

Viena mumbled in annoyance and ended up tweaking and biting Randia. Until finally she heard Randia slightly laughing. However, as soon as Randia realized his laugh might have been found out, he turned back to his poker face.

"Ha! You are laughing!"

"No, I'm not."

"You did! I saw you! I heard you!"

"You must still be terribly sick if your body plays that many tricks on you. I'll make you a medicine, a shockingly bitter one."

"Shut up! Come on! Show me again! Laugh!"

Eleanor, who was busy pounding the dough, felt delightedly elated to see her guests enjoying themselves. Especially when she had realized that Randia was rather a gloomy folk who speaks so little. 

"Order up, girl! The cookies are ready!"