Rynth: Four Beats

| 5th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

The abyssal mouth of the train tunnel was already passed. For Idri, the change was almost instant. Scents she hadn’t inhaled in so long began pouring in like a flood. Soft and earthy—freshly cut grass, easy on the nose. Then even softer hints of floral from colorful lilac and lavender, along with the bark of pine trees by the sidewalks, each decade-old body of wood halving the mildly intense heat from the late afternoon sun.

“Mm… It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Has anything changed while I was gone, Raoul?”

He mused as he led her down the sparsely populated street. For decorum’s sake, she had held out her hand for him to take, and was gingerly following his lead with careful, measured steps. What was new, he wondered? He scanned the surroundings. She wasn’t the kind to pay special attention to every little new detail like he was, and was more the kind to allow the vibe to flow into her—even more so now that she was especially intent on keeping her eyes closed.

“Well, for one, they’ve cleared out some of the buildings to widen the space for greenery. There’s multiple patches of grass just off to the side of the asphalt. Entire flowerbeds with scores of colorful flowers. Your favorite’s among them. Red tulips.”

“Oh, how pretty… You never get me flowers, you know.”

“Do princesses get flowers from their friends even when they’re underground? I’m afraid I can’t live up to that expectation just yet. It’s too high a bar.”

“Well, then you better start trying!” she playfully huffed. “I want a bouquet of flowers by tomorrow.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

Raoul continued to lead her down, every so often directing her attention to a few details he knew she’d enjoy. Their impromptu tour brought them to a few street food kiosks, a small café ran by an elderly couple, and even into a community bazaar that had just been set up the day before and was selling all manner of items. Despite the drought that was beginning to accumulate in his savings, he still mustered up the resolve to pay for a few small customized lucky charms depicting them and their friends, of which Idri continued to pester him for, mentioning how fitting they would be as souvenirs for Avil and Cali when they found them.

And that was how two miniature Raoul and Idri figurines, specially constructed from magic, found themselves in the former’s bag zipper and around the pommel of Kranstor. Strangely enough, the sword didn’t seem to mind the figurine, barely reacting as the head bobbed with each practice swing Idri took.

There wasn’t much to do on the agenda as of the moment. Raoul had checked his phone the instant they left Under Buril for any news on Avil or Calliope’s locations, but the online status on Krocko’s call profile showed that the last time he was online was when they last exchanged messages, which was almost a day ago. It was safe to say that news of their other two friends would arrive by the next day at the earliest, and so in a sense they had a day of free time to themselves. Which led to the question Raoul was a bit excited to pose to the girl beside him:

“Is there anything you’ve been wanting to do while we wait for news? Krocko’s probably busy right now, so we can let loose just for today.”

A devious thought struck Idri the next moment, and she leaned in to whisper her request.

“Let loose… If we have time, can we visit Tel Midasia? It’s been a while since I’ve been there, let alone with you. And I know you showed me you could reproduce it through that… Path thing, but I really, really want to experience it again. Just the two of us, before we go on our journey.”

“That’s a great idea. I suppose I’ve been wanting to make a return trip there too. Let’s do it.”

Her face lit up at the reply, and before long they were at the train station.

They found their seats in the first car, perfectly by the largest window that offered a clear view of sunset-Buril in the golden background. Raoul couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pity at how Idri couldn’t witness the sight behind them herself; the cascading of the city lights gradually being switched on, the shift from Pneficus to Fenyxia, the distant whir of traffic from the soaring cars in the sky, all replaced by black. She still had her other four senses and a vivid imagination, so a few descriptive portrayals through word at least brought her half of the joy she would otherwise get from seeing it firsthand.

Cias Buril had four great walls of white encircling the city. For twenty-four hours a day they were closely guarded by the City Watch and patrolling police, overseeing all entry into the city and out. To enter was simple enough: you either had to be born and raised Burilan, have papers dictating a proper reason for you to be allowed inside, or a friend in the bureaucracy. The second requirement was the easiest to attain, as ‘proper reason’ could really be attributed to almost anything under the sun. Which to say, as long as one’s papers were in order, one would rarely ever be turned away from the city’s white walls.

To leave wasn’t that difficult. For the most part, the city didn’t mind who went out, as the moment a citizen left the boundaries of the white walls, they weren’t the city’s problem any more. Generally, the surrounding plains and farmlands were vast, open, and rarely rife with monsters and other dangers. As of recently, however, exiting was restricted, potentially due to the rising increase of cult activity in the outskirts. To leave the city wasn’t much of a concern, but to leave the city and return preaching doomsday scriptures? That was something else entirely, and a threat to the peace.

Then again, when did the news of a cult ever stop two kids who wanted to visit their secret hideout? Sneaking past the guards was paramount.

Taking from the sixth Cycle of Inquiry that the walls had been constructed in, influences from Rynth’s Middle Ages were still faintly visible in the spots the white paint had begun to dry and flake off from. Although the initial front layer of said walls were embalmed almost entirely in metallic alloy, the inner recesses were anything but, still standing ‘strong’ with the same cut quarried stone laid down by the forefathers long ago. They were a sentimental lot, and perhaps it was through honoring their spirit that even to the present day the current government hadn’t decided to just tumble a great upheaval on the walls and replace them with tougher material, only instead overlaying Modernity-era steels over them to hold to their roots.

Raoul wasn’t going to blame them. It made sneaking out much easier than if they had chosen to get with the times.

Both of them stuck close to the orange road barricades, heads laid down low. The closer Nyxia drew down and the sky grew darker, the easier it would be to sneak past. Raoul didn’t yet know when the next shift change would be, but he was planning on aiming for the scant few minutes during the adjusting of the guard before taking his chances.

“I’ve never snuck out of the city myself,” he commented, head just barely poking through the barricade. “Have you?”

“Mm, no, not really.” Idri replied, her attention mostly focused on feeling the small figurine tied around Kranstor’s pommel. “But it feels fun. It’s like we’re a bunch of delinquents cutting class.”

“Playing hooky, you mean. It’s a bit different, but also close enough. Only our teachers this time around are the City Watch eyeing the roads.”

Ahead of them was the arched exit, from which dozens of cars were slowly pouring in and out from. Each one would be subjected to a strict minute-long search to spot any contraband. Every few minutes, multiple cars would be turned away, but not for any criminal-aligned reasons. Raoul could just about barely make out hints of chatter from a particularly loud guard by straining his ears excessively.

“They’re turning away people who they don’t think are capable of defending themselves,” he revealed. “The last three cars didn’t have any people who were dressed the way a Driver or Pioneer might. No suits or outdoors-y outfits. Do you think they’d let us through if we huddled together in your cloak, Idri?”

The last part was entirely sarcastic, but Idri was taking it realistically. She stuck a hand into the diaphanous dress-cloak, feeling the fabric slide off her fingers with little resistance. “It’s too tiny for the both of us. We’d just get a cold…”

“...I suppose. Sneaking out, then?”

She flashed a confident smile and nodded, pushing herself upright.