Banica

I thought that my earlier suggestion would've remained a suggestion, but it turned out to be the only choice that we have left.

Realistically speaking, I think that we were too shocked to think straight to even suggest going back without even seeming to be bothered earlier. It was unexpected- it was something that none of us would ever think about, but it happened. Carlos and I ran away many years back; things would've changed, but there was one thing that remained unchanged in the code of law.

Personally, I think that we ended up being fugitives.

The very thought makes me extremely uncomfortable, as I slowly tie my boots and look back at just one of the many houses that served as a temporary home. Arte and Pollo are fussing over what to take and what to leave behind, yet all I can think about is what to expect upon going back.

This is far from a new journey; this is returning, and yet, I refuse to return. My feet can be walking towards the Beelzenian Empire, yet my heart can grow further from it as far as it pleases.

I have lived, and always have lived, as Maylis Juin since the day we left. We boarded the S.S. Hermenia as two children of low-ranked nobles who were rebellious enough to escape the comforts of life- as they say- and embrace a life in where traveling it is never enough to sate our curiosities and adventurous hearts. I can still remember that night; the daughter of Lord Conchita and the Third Prince of the Kingdom of Marlon, plastering themselves against the cold walls of the Marlon Royal Palace, hoping and wishing that it would swallow them both.

But what should life expect from two children- one who is as fat as a pig, and one who is so sickly that he had to hold back his coughing fits for the sake of silence- who are so unhealthy?

"Maylis," Carlos nudges me, and I look up at him and realize that we are not in private; we are truly about to leave, and I look at him with worry.

"I think we are wanted," I say falteringly. "Should we even go?"

"Is the letter even real?" Carlos asks instead; a question for a question. "If it was truly from the empress herself, then there would be a seal, as far as I know."

"But even if it is not real, who could possibly know who we are, and where we are?" I murmur. "Our names are different, and I am certain that we have changed in a number of years."

"Who gave the note to you?" Carlos asks. "Do you remember who? Do you know?"

I shake my head helplessly; if he was in my stead yesterday, he would have remembered. "He or she was cloaked. I couldn't tell. The person gave it to me without a word while I was in the middle of washing the linen- I asked for a name, but the person just mounted and left."

"On horseback?"

I nod.

We are interrupted, however, by a cry that we recognized coming from Ivor, one of our companions. He waves over at us, but Arte and Pollo rush out of the open door of the house instead to his much larger stature. I look over; our companions have stopped packing, and for a moment I wonder whether to allow myself to smile at the prospect that no, we are not going after all.

But it is far from that.

"We're going to have a bit of a delay!" Ivor yells.

"Why is that?" Carlos yells back, but Arte runs up to us and holds a portion of our clothes, looking towards Ivor's and Olivia's direction suspiciously. I break away from Arte's grasp and slowly run to where the two stood, and what greets me is the sight of something unexpected.

A dark-haired man, with his red cat mewling piteously, unconscious, on the grassy ground.


"Drink. Sit up slowly," I instruct the stranger, as I help him up as gently as I could.

It is like a hospital in Gerard's wooden house, with Olivia fetching me towels, Carlos cooking (to which I have instructed Arte to help, since everyone knows how Carlos cooks) and Yasen tending to the sleeping cat. There is no set hierarchy in whoever gets to nurse the sick, or who to invite into the group, but admittedly, everyone believes that I should do just because of one simple fact.

I am married, and therefore, I must mother everyone.

The stranger coughs a bit after he drinks, and I say "Slowly" again to remind him that there is no rush, that he is with good people and in safe hands. He nods weakly and looks at me, and as if he is astonished, he gives a little start and I softly restrain him again.

"You're safe," I reassure him. "My companions have found you unconscious by chance. Does it hurt anywhere else?"

He clears his throat. "T-Thank you," he manages, and sits up comfortably against the headboard. "I'm fine. I should be fine. Thank you."

"We were just about to leave for Beelzenia," I laugh. "Isn't it lucky for you that your body decided to give way just when we were about to go? If we had left, you might have been robbed of everything you have, or worse."

He slowly nods; I note that he is rather disoriented. All he can do is say yes or no. Olivia comes up to me and gives me a cool towel, and I dab it on the man's forehead. He winces, but slowly, he relaxes, and he takes a few deep breaths.

"You said that you were going to go to Beelzenia?" he asks.

I nod. "Yes. Are you going there too?"

"I was on the way," he admits, and then he notices that he has a fresh change of clothes, mainly from Gerard's intervention. A brief look of horror crosses his face and he looks at me again, and I raise my hands in apparent surrender.

"...It wasn't me," I say slowly.

"Where are my clothes?" he asks, as if we have just stripped him off his dignity.

Pollo marches right up to me with his clothes, as if he had been waiting for the stranger to ask for them all this time, and like the simple boy that he is, he dumps the clothes onto the stranger's lap, still unwashed and smells very much like sweat. Looking proud of himself, Pollo looks at the stranger right in the eye and nods in satisfaction.

"Clothes," he says, and I can barely suppress a grin.

"Well, there they are," I respond, grinning eventually. He wrinkles his nose and squints- it is as if we're not the most hospitable lot that he has ever encountered before. The clothes lay on the covers on his lap, and he looks back at me and groans.

"They're not washed," he says pointedly.

"You never asked for them to be washed," I said patronizingly, "my lord."

Olivia comes up to me and pulls at my ear as if I am a child, and I give a gasp of surprise before she hastily apologizes to the stranger. "Sorry, sorry! Maylis wasn't like this before- she picked it up all by herself, you see, so I hope that you'll forgive her! She's not so sharp-tongued as we all remember..."

"Sharp-tongued!" I exclaim. "Can you blame me for putting up with Joseph?"

"Your fault that you married him, Maylis," Olivia reminds me. "And now you're following everything that he does. You've got to step up and be independent! Independent women are rising up now! The government's changed-"

"Yes, yes," I laugh, then I turn to our stunned stranger again. "This loud woman here is Olivia, and as you can hear, my name is Maylis. My husband, Joseph, is at the back, and this boy here," in which I draw Pollo close to my side, "is Pollo."

He nods and finds that he can laugh. Olivia excuses herself, and Pollo leaves the room, and I make sure that no one is outside listening. I know better than to be ignorant of a person who wishes to speak about matters to me, and I turn to the stranger and question him. "This is far too sudden a coincidence."

The dark-haired man bows his head. "Miss Maylis Juin, am I correct?"

"I am her."

"Do forgive my unexpected entrance- I am Oshan, a traveling mercenary. I am responsible for the note from the Empress Juno."

I bite my lip in impatience. It was a prank, as Carlos had predicted. If this man were to be caught and jailed, he certainly would not escape treason, especially if it was under the empress's wrath. "If I report you for falsehood, you know that you will die."

"It is nothing of the sort," Oshan says calmly, and then he says something that shocks me more than I can ever imagine. "Lady Banica, your father is critically ill."


Our Futures
Chapter 2


A/N: The second chapter is up.

-Nairo