A week drifted past like a suffocating breeze, and behind it came the dreadful event. The yearly Lunston gathering held its arms wide for Alessandre, preparing for a crushing embrace. The Feast would begin in a week, but the journey to Aetherune's most sacred place must start now.

  The luxurious vehicle was unearthed from the sunless cellar. This carriage was fitted with an engine, which could have easily replaced the horses at the front. But what better way to flaunt your wealth than to have four Friesian mounts clear the path for this rich-looking wooden box on an engine?

  Elysande stood outside the gate, 'admiring' the dust-clad beast the horses dragged menacingly into the sunlight. Its leather still reeked of the staleness inherited from earth, and its mildewed rosewood failed to glisten majestically under the golden bath.

  Being Elysande, she would not tolerate even a single speck of dust to exist in the vicinity of the carriage, nor could the tiny groups of fungi threatening to grow. She gagged at the smell, her face taking the form of something full of dread and annoyance.

  "Clean the vehicle, now!" She yelled to the sweating servants, who had not had even a minute of rest since dawn, "Make sure you clean every. single. crevice." She glared at a pair of new faces, "You two as well! Don't you slack off if you want to have breakfast!"

  The twin were Alex and Lucy. Sent by the beloved Tom from his trip along with his letter, except that the messenger had lost the letter somewhere along the way. Alessandre was expectedly frustrated, the kind of frustration that could only be calmed by someone like Sylphiette, or maybe two Sylphiettes.

  Alex, the older of the two, suggested that the letter may have been lost during a rest stop at a post office, in which the letters were accidentally scrambled by an unknowing kid.

  It was a reasonable guess, but the excuse did little to soothe anyone's temper. After all, in a kingdom that utilises mail as its main form of communication, having letters lost due to some kid that somehow snuck in the postal office sounded like blasphemy.

  The messenger expressed equal frustration, but over the fact that not only did he have to deliver mail, he also had to deliver them, feed them and keep them safe. In his own words, "You should have been happy that these two didn't come in four pieces! " He coughed on his pipe and tried to adjust his wrinkled uniform, but continued to complain, "Have they no common sense? What sane person would mess around on the rails like that!"

  In reality, the twins had really never seen a locomotive in their lives. Because they spent their lives shivering and starving on the streets of the Northern Bay. But Lucy had expressed an obsessive interest in mechanical engineering ever since she heard about it. However, this curiosity almost turned morbid, causing her to examine the rails up close without thinking about the consequences. Alex, on the other hand, is much more literal. He had merely wondered why Lucy was examining the rails, so he joined in too.

  As he looked down from his window at the chaotic, strangely warm cacophony, Alessandre could barely hold his head up from his increasingly messy desk; his drooping eye bags sagged in his sockets. Throughout the past week, his dreams became tamer; contrastingly, however, sleep became a gluttonous beast, never enough. Alessandre would spend most of his time in his bed, asleep. Most of his waking time was spent with a two-hour-long dance practice with Sylphiette, watching his servants prepare for the feast, and an intense, never-won game of polo, with General Maige Dott Vera of the Navy, whom Alessandre called his uncle.

  At this moment, a gentle knock on the door broke Alessandre's sleepless trance. Alessandre waddled down from his oversized chair and wandered towards the door to open it.

  Behind the door was an old-looking man; however, no age could deteriorate the sharpness in his green eyes, which felt almost invasive. His hair was cut very short around the back and sides, with a slightly longer top, sharp as his gaze. But as his age suggested, a not-so-hidden glint of white was visibly spread in the otherwise jet-black threads.

  "Alessandre, feeling any good today?" The man asked. In contrast to his glare, his voice was surprisingly deep and soothing, almost magnetic. "Maybe a game will help you wake up, what do you say?" The man continued, fixing his white navy coat and uniform, gleaming with medals, which he wore almost every day in pride. Alessandre gave a lifeless gaze to the man, whose explosive muscles stretched his uniform painfully, then at his bruised calf.

  The old man Maige scratched the back of his head apologetically and disappointedly. But being a general in the Aetherune Navy, his pride made him gulp back the apology. He turned around, suddenly interested in a painting on the wall. "No game today, then, I guess. More sleeping? Even though I'm only back here once a year?"

  He cleared his throat, voice roughening. "Well, I've got men waiting anyway. Send me a mail if you need anything." He turned around to pat the boy's head, "I'll be gone when you wake up."

  "Wait!" Alessandre gasped, jolting at a sudden realisation, "You can't go back to the navy, you've got to attend the feast!" He yelled at the man, who was already walking down the spiral staircase. "Ha! Not so sleepy now, boy?" The old man Maige laughed triumphantly, "Polo it is, then!" Alessandre deflated. "Winning against a kid is no glory." He muttered under his breath, but quickly looked around to make sure Maige didn't hear it.

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  The field felt too bright under the beaming sunlight, and even the grass felt sickly green. Alessandre marched onto the field with his team, his eyes half-lidded. Alessandre's team, however, was nothing short of elite. It consisted of one of Aetherune's finest polo coaches, Edward Lancer, and his two students, Laurent and Geoffrey.

  On the opposing team, however, there was only one man - Uncle Maige himself, sitting proudly on his trusty horse. "You ready, Alessandre?" Maige held up his stick and yelled across the field. Alessandre shivered at the rush of energy returning to him. He took a deep breath and yelled back.

  Maige's mallet cracked against the ball first like booming thunder. His horse, too, blitzed across the field, catching up to the ball in seconds - being a war horse, its fierceness couldn't be rivalled. Edward followed suit; his experience and skill allowed him to advance to Maige's side. With a grunt, Edward swung the mallet, attempting to ride off the ball.

  Maige's eyes flashed, maneuvering his horse to a staggering ninety-degree turn in an instant. The horse did not slow down; rather, it sprinted even faster, splitting the air loudly as its hooves scattered chunks of the ground with sheer force. Maige bounced the ball into the air, which the horse caught up with, whooshing two meters high. Maige's mallet hammered the ball again - devastatingly. The ball shot down like a cannonball, crossing the posts in a blink.

  "Score!" The old general bellowed, raising his mallet above his head happily. "Alessandre, you've got to try harder than that!" He laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. Alessandre shrugged, unimpressed. "Uncle Maige is showing off his horse again. Why am I not surprised?"

  "My muscles too!" Maige scowled, flexing his right arm. "Seriously, though. You've got to be able to at least score one point. Or else we're done at the feast." Maige dropped his voice solemnly, fixing up his collar as he went. "You know we'd be shamed if I played against you younglings."

  Alessandre sighed, unable to meet Maige's gaze. "I-I've been..." He stutters, gulping down his words about his hazy insomnia, "I'm sorry. Sorry, I brought the family down these past few years." Instead, he pushed out a sincere apology, chuckling bitterly. "Uncle Maige, there's not much I can do." He shrugs, "I'm just a kid...I can't possibly go against them...I should be-" The boy shivered, his voice cracking slightly, "I should be watching my father play while having tea - like the other kids... instead of...carrying this..." He could not continue.

  Maige sighs, putting his hand on the sobbing boy's shoulder, "I guess you're a kid after all. I've almost forgotten..." he squeezed gently, "Don't worry about the feast. We don't need to be royal to live. Don't let it consume you as it did with those old skin sacks." He muttered, "Just...enjoy the game."

  Thud.

  The boy slid off his horse, his back slamming turf. His eyes were wide open, glaring into the sun. His tears still flowed, and his mouth opened in a silent scream - as if he had witnessed a horror beyond his comprehension but could not find his voice.

  "Boy! Don't be playing games with me!" Maige yelled as he hopped off his horse, too, hopping lightly next to Alessandre, "Y-you're bleeding from your eyes!" Maige frantically scooped up the boy, his voice booming - but even his resolve has cracked under the bizarre situation, "Someone get a doctor, a medic! I don't care! Now!"

  Coach Edward, Laurent and Geoffrey scattered to find help, leaving the old general and the boy, whose expression was frozen in horror. Maige laid the boy on the floor gently, covering his eyes with his handkerchief. His war-trained senses overloaded to perceive everything that could potentially be a threat - a poisonous bug, a potentially trampling horse, or even a gust of wind that could blow off the cloth on the boy's eyes.

  "It seems like you've got yourself a problem here, General Maige." A voice rang out, followed by the light tapping of leather shoes. Maige's pupil shrank violently under the intense adrenaline - because he knew - he could not have heard this footstep unless the infiltrator intentionally revealed it. A searing cold spread through his nerves, and he looked around frantically, not brashly responding to a single word.

  The man behind the voice stepped into the sunlit field. Raising a hand to fix his glasses, which caused his deep blue eyes to glisten under the sunlight. "Drop your guards, I'm here to help. I've been watching."

  Maige drew his ceremonial rapier in a blink, its tip already sinking into the neck of the young man, and blood streamed down. However, the man did not flinch, as if the human instincts did not apply to him. He smiled widely. "I'm a friend of his. You may know me as...Felix Viren."

  Maige did not respond, thrusting the rapier even deeper, impaling Felix's throat completely. Because to Maige, he would rather kill falsely than allow such a threat near the vicinity of Alessandre. Blood gushed from Felix's mouth, but he only wiped it off. "Do not attempt to kill me. I'm only here to help." He shrugged, "Whether you like it or not, Alessandre is going to have to come with me."

  The general clenched his teeth, his rapier flashing into a silver storm, stabbing through every vital in a few blinks of an eye. But it was no use. Felix stood there, unfazed.

  "That was quite rude for someone like you, General." Felix shrugged, walking towards Alessandre, "Wait! What do you want? Money? Power? Women? I could give you everything...just...leave Alessandre." Maige fell to his knees, crocodile tears gleaming, "He's my only family..."

  Felix sighed, adjusting his watch.

  "Tag along if you'd like, but only if you put away that dagger in your uniform. You've stabbed me enough now, haven't you?"

  "Dagger stays." Maige clenches his teeth, "I'll cut your head off if you try anything. I don't think you'd be able to live with that."

  "Fine~ I get it. Big scary intruder, right?" Felix raised his hands in surrender, strolling towards Alessandre. "What happened...to him?" Maige asked anxiously, finally lowering his dagger and giving Felix a death glare, "You want to be really careful how you answer, because I might just kill you if you don't give me a straight answer."

  Felix smirked, "Do you...really want to know? Because you've got to bear the consequences, if you do." He shivered - just like the moment before Alessandre collapsed, "There are things you aren't meant to look at. Knowledge can be a horror too, I hope you keep that in mind." Felix reached for the blood-soaked cloth, revealing Alessandre's eyes. Maige stepped closer, his voice crackling cold, "I said give me it straight."

  "Very well. It would only be moral to let you know. This answer will now follow you for life." Felix snaps his fingers, the sharp sound piercing through Maige's every sense, before it all went completely black. Felix declares regretfully,

  "See what he saw."