The Great War: Chapter 6
Making some plans
“We can set up some tents along the road for now,” Samuel says, gesturing to the dirt path that leads to the port of Ica. In the distance, beings mill about the small city, going about their business as best they can.
“It may disrupt some travel,” Devin comments.
“I’m hesitant to extend into the farmland, at least for now,” Samuel replies, rubbing his hands together anxiously as he looks out at the crop fields on either side of them. “I don’t wish to harm the farms so early on.”
“I know.”
Still, the prince folds his arms and scowls with dissatisfaction, something weighing heavily on his mind for sure. Devin doesn’t press him for details, though. If he wishes to share his thoughts, he will. Eventually.
He scans the area around them once again, feeling uneasy. Though they came with a handful of castle guards, Devin doesn’t like how exposed they are. Ica is full of crime, after all, and Korodon’s border has always been poorly watched to begin with. It won’t take much for Samuel to be assassinated, at which point the nation would truly be thrown into chaos.
There’s always danger about outside of the castle.
Samuel paces up and down the road, his apparent anxiousness growing by the moment.
“Is everything alright?” Devin speaks up calmly.
Samuel stops pacing for a moment to look at his friend. “I… don’t want to mess anything up.”
Devin can only nod back. By all means, this is Samuel’s first major decision as a royal.
“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” he advises. “Nothing is going to be perfect when it starts off.”
“I know…” But from Samuel’s airy voice, Devin suspects that it’s a lie.
“I will put out word for Creationists, then, and have tent spaces marked. No doubt that there are many among the Mirage refugees.”
Momentary alarm flashes across Samuel’s face, yet he presses his lips together and nods in agreement all the same. Devin doesn’t know if he simply spooked him, or if Samuel is still somewhat unsure with his own current plan.
“It’s going to be fine, Sam,” Devin tries to reassure him.
“Just get it done,” Samuel replies quickly under his breath.
All Ezra has done the last couple of cycles is sit around and be bored. The ship was rather full, wizards of all magics fleeing Mirage alongside his family. And yet it was a rather uneventful ride all the same. Just ocean as far as the eye can see. And now he sits around yet again, in a single room that him and his family are sharing with another couple, with nothing to do and not really anywhere to go.
The room is small and cramped, obviously not meant for a family of four and two other occupants, with a lamp to keep the place bright and small bowls to consume food from.
Of course, he can’t help but feel homesick. As much as he disliked the Guardians and always needing to hide his magic, his old home was more bright and colorful than here. Then again, between his house and this room, there really isn’t much contest to where he’d prefer to live.
Thought, right now, the room is empty and silent, with sleeping blankets and pillows strewn about carelessly. His parents, the couple, and his sister are all away looking for work, leaving him behind to watch the room. With so many refugees and limited housing, there have been rumors that some have simply resorted to claiming spaces that are unoccupied. Put simply, if you’re not there, it’s not your space. And his parents didn’t want to take any chances.
At least Ezra has his little kneeling cushion, which he is now glad he took. Sitting on the cold, hard floor of the room would probably make him sore to the stars and back again. Though maybe he should have taken some books along, too. Though it’d be stealing, technically, at least it’d have given him some entertainment besides staring listlessly at a grey stone wall.
Suddenly, the door opens, causing him to perk up a bit. Ishtar stands in the doorway with a smile.
“Hey, I think I found something for you to do,” she says, stepping into the room, closing the door behind her.
Ezra pulls a tired smile. “Must I do something?”
“Oh, just look at yourself,” she sighs, still grinning. “It’ll get you outside for a little while, at least.”
“What about the room?” he asks.
“I can watch it for you.”
“Okay. What did you find?”
“The royal family wants to start putting up tents outside Ica for the refugees,” Ishtar explains enthusiastically. “A call has been made for Creationists to help pitch them.”
Ezra shifts atop his cushion. Though he does know enchanting, he’s a Creationist at heart. Most can only assemble small structures and items, like making pottery or pitching tents, so it makes sense for there to be a need for wizards like him for this sort of thing.
Though he doesn’t know why he’s called a Creationist anyways. More like “a wizard who can skip a few steps in the making process”. To make pottery, there has to be clay. To pitch a tent, there still has to be wooden poles and fabric. It’s not like he’s making something from nothing, just simply skipping the boring part of construction.
So he lets out an amused snort. “Can’t they do it themselves?”
“Oh, come on, Ezie,” Ishtar sighs. “Get up! Get out! It’s something to do!”
“But they can do it.”
“Would you rather have a sturdy tent that’s well-constructed, or a shoddy one which looks like it’ll collapse on you at any given moment?” Ishtar asks.
Ezra lets out a long sigh and smiles up at her. “I’m just pulling your leg. I’ll do it.”
“That’s good,” Ishtar replies slyly. “I didn’t want to need to pull you all the way out there myself.”
Ezra lets out an uneasy laugh, unsure if she’s just kidding or if she would have truly done that if he refused.
“When are they starting?” he asks.
“I think early next cycle, just outside the city,” Ishtar replies with a hum. “So don’t sleep in.”
“How can I not sleep in if we have no window to tell when it’s first light?”
“You could make a window.”
“I-”
“I could make a window.”
“Ishtar!”
Ishtar simply chuckles back. “I’ll wake you up, don’t worry.”