Eidolon Earth: Candidate Author

"Fine, go ahead," the guard said, shoving the papers back into Arin's hands. His dark blue armor shone in the warm sunlight.

The huge golden gates lifted as their small carriage passed through. The walls were thick, made of smooth white stone, and guards walked the passage carved into them.

They entered as the smell of spices and food hit Arin's nose. Stalls of food and merchant carts lined the way. Instead of glowing stones, there were lamp posts.

The road was wide and grounded, as if carved from a single long stone. Arin could see monuments and signboards in different languages marking the routes toward different cities. Checkpoints stood along the road, each staffed by two people managing traffic.

After a while, the asphalt-colored road split into different directions. They turned toward the sign that read Tilmis. Traffic was heavy, and when they stopped behind a large merchant cart, a boy approached the carriage with blankets draped over his torso.

"Five for thirty copper coins!" he shouted.

Arin gazed at his youthful face for a moment before the traffic moved forward again.

They passed a giant wheel in the distance, and children with wide smiles and plump bodies. Arin closed his eyes, and the faces of thin, hollow-cheeked servants flashed in his mind. His breath caught for a moment before he let out a long sigh.

Even the outskirts weren't empty — buildings and villages were scattered along the way. At last, they arrived at the city of Tilmis.

It was livelier than any city they had visited so far. Banners bearing different symbols hung from the buildings, and the streets were thick with people. The shops were larger here, stocked with fruits they had never seen in their lives. Medicines and countless other goods filled the stalls. But their destination lay at the center of Tilmis, near the governor's residence.

A small bell chimed as Arin opened the gate of the post office. The hall inside was enormous.

Numerous counters lined the walls, each attended by a different clerk. Lamps spilled their light across the huge space. Staff not assigned to counters ran back and forth, carrying piles of letters and pots of ink.

The hall was full. Generations sat together — a family with two children and a couple, old men and women in strange clothing. The men mostly wore dark robes with jeweled necklaces; the women wore thick blouses with full-length skirts. Small children ran about, only to be scolded moments later.

The interior felt strangely cold, the opposite of the heat outside.

Arin walked up to the first counter, where an old woman with glasses sat. He took the letter from his breast pocket. But before he could hand it to her —

Clack. Clack. Clack!

Someone shoved him from behind, sending him stumbling sideways. Arin grabbed the corner of the counter to keep his balance and turned to see who had done it.

It was a young man, shorter than average, glancing around before speaking in a surprisingly deep voice.

"D-did my letter arrive?" the man asked, gasping for air.

Arin studied him — messy brown hair, amber eyes locked on the counter lady like an eagle's. Seeing the height difference, Arin's irritation faded, replaced by an odd sense of kinship with his own unremarkable stature back on Earth.

The woman at the counter made a sour face. "Sir, we haven't received a letter like that. If we had, I would have been informed," she said, maintaining her politeness.

Something in the man seemed to snap. His voice climbed within seconds.

"Is it the letter, or is it that none of you know how to do your job?" he accused, teeth clenched.

The woman raised an eyebrow but kept her tone level. "Everyone here knows how to do their job, sir. But we can't help it if a letter grows wings and flies off on its own." Her words dripped with mockery.

The man's hand curled into a fist — a punch he might have thrown had the other party not been a woman.

"DO YOU THINK I—" he started, but stopped when he noticed Arin quietly sliding a letter across the counter shield.

The clerk noticed too, glancing sideways.

Arin stiffened. "Uh... hello?"

Silence.

More silence.

"Don't mind me," Arin said awkwardly, trying to set the letter down on the attendant's desk.

In a blink, the brown-haired man's hand shot out and snatched the letter from his grip — faster, Arin thought, than the scarred man from before.

The man inspected it, then tore it open. For a moment no one spoke. His expression relaxed, and he tucked the letter into his pocket.

"I have what I wanted," he said, bowing his head slightly toward Arin. "May I know your good name, sir?"

"Daniel," Arin said.

The man nodded, gave him a long look, and walked out of the hall.

The clerk let out a sigh and turned to Arin. "You really saved the day, good sir," she said with a small bow.

"It was nothing. Now, if you'll excuse me," Arin said, turning to leave.

The bell chimed again as his feet left the marble floor and met the dirt and stone outside.

"Let's go," he said, sitting down across from Hayato-san, who was studying a map to guide their route.

"So this is Lupenz, huh," Arin muttered as the carriage passed through the city gates.

Overhead, birds soared — but they were massive, each one nearly the size of the carriage. Their shadows swept across the ground below.

"This is the first time I've seen them," Sir Graham murmured under his breath.

"Oh! I've only heard about those — griffins, aren't they?" one of the escort guards exclaimed, awestruck.

Arin looked up at the clear blue sky, taking in creatures he had only ever read about in fantasy novels back in his previous life.

The buildings here were more elaborate, and the road sloped gently upward. Threads strung between buildings crossed over the streets, hung with lanterns and banners. The architecture and city planning were far more refined. Shops stood open, and people filled the streets.

Their carriage drew a bit of attention, though it faded quickly.

Ahead of them stood a massive statue — a robed figure, its face hidden beneath a deep hood that concealed its eyes. Only the nose and the faint curve of a smirk were visible. Its hands were joined in front, forming an open hemisphere, cradling something within.

The statue was tall, its surface webbed with faint cracks that betrayed its age. The stone had lost its luster, but the figure still carried an air of majesty.

The plaque at its base read:

[ Protector of the Land of Kuru ]

Lord Azevalgar

"Arin, can you ask someone for directions?" Hayato-san said.

Arin nodded and stepped down from the carriage, taking in the city square as his boots echoed against the stone platform. He walked toward a jewelry shop and picked up a gemstone to examine.

"Is anyone there?" he asked.

The shop owner, a chubby man with a jolly demeanor, turned and smiled at him.

"My apologies for not noticing you, sir," he said, rubbing his hands together. "I believe you're looking for a gemstone rather than a finished ornament?" His eyes flicked to the small blue gem in Arin's palm.

"Ah, I was just wondering," Arin said, turning the gem over in his hand, "where such a beautiful material might have been excavated from?"

The man's smile widened. "As expected of a distinguished guest," he said, adjusting his kaftan. "Wise men value the source more than the product itself." His speech had a slightly flat cadence, as though he struggled with certain sounds.

"The gentleman before me seems rather knowledgeable himself," Arin remarked casually.

"Of course," the shopkeeper said, eyebrows lifting with pride. "I come from a place that taught the world about craftsmanship."

"Oh? Then would you happen to know the way to Darjan?" Arin asked.

The man pointed across the square. "That way."

Arin nodded. It would have been rude to leave without buying anything.

"How much for this little blue gem?" he asked, looking up — but the shopkeeper had already turned away.

Arin peered past the counter and saw the man kneeling in prayer. "I bow for thy blessings, our lord and savior Noor-e-Zaya," he murmured, bowing his head.

Arin called out to him once more, loud enough to be heard, but the man didn't respond.

He set thirty copper coins on the shelf among the other gems and ornaments on display, then returned to the carriage.

"Toward the right street," he said, pointing the way the shopkeeper had shown him.

The carriage rolled forward.

.

.

.

In a certain room of an expensive inn. The windows were closed and covered with cloth.

A man with brown hair and amber eyes entered, locked the room from inside, lit a candle and opened the letter with nothing but only destination written on the top corner.

The letter seal was violently opened before so the actual letter lay inside unguarded.

The man grabbed his hair and threw the wig away revealing his dark hair. He threw the coat away and sat in a simple attire. He carefully took out the letter while he felt his heart tremble.

He was overjoyed.

He opened the lid and took out a piece of paper from the letter.

The paper was nothing special but still the man handled it as if it was the most precious thing there is.

He breathed in and started reading.

To my Love…..