Title: chasing dreams
Series: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Gen, Friendship/Love, Introspection
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mikleo/Sorey, Phoenix, Zaveid, Edna, Lailah (also, mentions of Alisha Diphda, Sergei Strelka and Rose in this chapter)
Warnings: All the spoilers and possible post-game feels. Also steampunk/solarpunk fantasy Glenwood(?)
Summary: Of rediscovery and finding his way through the dark
A/N: Music inspiration for scene#8: Bolmus Populi (Child of Light OST) by Cœur de pirate


chasing dreams


~.*.~

.

.

viii.

They spent the morning strolling through the Central district, weaving through roads packed with a motley throng of people. It was obvious that Lailah took great pleasure in playing the helpful tour guide; she made sure to direct them to the major festival attractions. One such attraction was the Marketplace square that housed traders who had travelled from all over the Two Kingdoms and the Northern cities. There were the flower stalls famed for their misty blue hyacinths (rumoured to be a favourite of the youngest Rolance prince), and Hyland tulips that bloomed in a unique blend of orange and purple; the spice merchants who hailed from the seaside port towns beyond the Hunting Grounds; the hydroponic farmers of the Zapghott Moorland, renowned for their prominent use of solar-powered agricultural belts built from seraphic technology (their fresh produce were popular ingredients among celebrated inn chefs); a tinker shop run by twin sisters, who specialized in repair works and customised foldable Raven gliders; and colourful thrift stalls that traded in an assortment of pottery, embroidered fabrics and antiques.

There was a vibrant energy in the air above the lively chatter of the townsfolk; Sorey could barely contain his awe as he stepped through the square, the thrum of anticipation within him. There was so much to see, to discover in every nook and cranny of each multi-coloured stall! And it took nearly all of his self-restraint to not dash about excitedly alongside a group of human children who were skipping through the crowd while playing a game of catch-and-tag.

Thankfully, Lailah decided to stop by one of the aisles, and Sorey soon found himself readily distracted in a corner lot that had a simple sign that read 'Book Ends' draped over its blue-and-yellow checked awning. It was a shop that sold second-hand books and old tomes of writing. Before long, he was browsing through a number of wrinkled volumes, all painstakingly inked by hand and leather-bound – a dying trade these days, according to the shopkeeper, with the emergence of steam-printing and the rising popularity of portable data cards based off seraphic technology.

A few stands to his left, Mikleo was also busying himself, arms folded over his chest as he inspected several antiques displayed across the long table.

"What are you looking at?" Sorey asked, peering over his shoulder.

Mikleo hummed softly, brows knitted into a frown as he replied, "It says here that these are actual artefacts excavated from ruins found beyond the mountain ridge of Mabinogio, which seems highly doubtful. I have explored parts of those ruins once before, and everything about these designs here"–he held up a medium-sized earthenware bowl so that Sorey could take a closer look–"and the knot-work pattern designs on the side? They are all wrong and hardly reflects the era in which those ruins were believed to have been built."

"Maybe they came from a different part of the ruins? I've read that the ruins extend further underground, so unless you've explored every single nook and cranny inside of it, you can't be certain that these are only replicas. There's a chance that they could still be authentic."

"I think the highly exorbitant price alone is an indicator of it being a genuine rip-off. Besides, if these were really excavated from the ruins, why peddle them off here in a market place? Why not have it assessed by an official Appraiser in Marlind instead?"

"Or maybe they've already done that and still decided that buyers in an open market would fetch a better price. It might seem like a novelty item, sure, but it is aesthetically pleasing too. That has to count somewhat toward its value, right?"

"It would be an outrageously expensive trinket if that was the case." Mikleo waved a dismissive hand over the item. "Look, it's not even embellished with gemstones! It's just your standard earthenware bowl, possibly only ever used to contain soups and sweet meats centuries ago."

Sorey only frowned, crossing his arms in a show of disagreement. "You sure jump to conclusions really fast."

Standing a little way off behind the bickering pair, Edna was tapping her parasol against the cobblestoned ground impatiently, her expression set in barely disguised tedium. "Do they really need to get all up in arms over a silly bowl?"

To which Zaveid's only remark was an amused snort, as he shook his head. "It wouldn't be them if they didn't."

Beside him, Lailah laughed softly in agreement. "It's nice that we get to spend some time together like this again though, even if it may only be for a short while. I didn't realise how much I've missed everyone's company until now..." She trailed off as she looked upon the two young seraphim before her once more. Her gaze was filled with a wistful tenderness, tempered with secrets and memories of a past she could not speak of aloud.

"I'm grateful to be given the opportunity to experience this again – even if Sorey doesn't seem to remember much else besides his shared moments with Mikleo, which must have been very dear to him."

At the brief mention of his name, Sorey finally perked up, glancing curiously over his shoulder at the fire seraph.

"Sorry. Did you say something, Lailah?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Lailah graced him with a stunningly luminous smile, clasping her palms together. "I was just telling Edna and Zaveid how you're like a mug of liquid comfort. Sweet with a dash of zest, and good for cold, wintry nights!"

"I... Huh?" Sorey frowned, head angled in slight puzzlement.

"Anyway," Lailah continued breezily, picking up the pace once again. "There's still so much to see. Come, let me show you around more!"

As they continued their way through the Central district, Lailah spoke of the Spring Solstice Festival, held annually at the turn of the season when the first flowering buds appeared after the cold winter months. The Festival was held over a fortnight, and for two whole weeks, there would be a flurry of activities held all around Ladylake. Most of the sporting events – friendly jousting between would-be knights and trainees, archery competitions, and obstacle/scavenger racing games for youths and children – were held in the morning when the air was still crisp with the lingering chill of dawn. As the day grew warmer, the crowd would settle themselves at a slower pace while they lunched. They would chortle merrily, sharing their meals in one of the established bars or in a cosy restaurant, or even out in the open by the stony benches that lined the walkway. And they would look upon the grand Water Wheel of the Aquapolis as they savoured their meat buns and stews, washing the food down with frothy swigs of ale.

When the day eased into late afternoon, the street performances began in full swing – poetry readings, song recitals, and various performances by charmers and illusionists. There were noticeably more seraphim involved in these activities alongside their human companions – more so than the ones held in the morning, at least – and Sorey was mulling over the differences when Lailah drew to an abrupt stop once more.

"Oh, looks like we're just in time for the play," she said, eagerly pointing ahead of them.

Intrigued by the commotion, Sorey was the first to move to her side, peering over the gathering crowd. He saw a large pageant wagon bedecked with colourful velvet curtains, embroidered with the finest of details. There were two wooden stairs on each end of the wagon that lead up to the raised platform stage. And upon the stage stood five children who looked about eleven or twelve years of age. Their faces were painted and they were dressed in fanciful costumes. One girl, dressed in a plain blue tunic and beige pants, moved to stand next to one of the props. She grasped the end of what looked like the wooden hilt of a sword and pulled hard. There was a collective gasp from the audience, which swiftly became cheers when the girl easily drew out the wooden sword from its pedestal and held it up triumphantly.

"It's one of the highlights of the festival," Lailah explained when she noticed the intent look in Sorey's eyes. "Usually the school children are the ones to re-enact the play, assisted, of course, by a number of their educators."

"Is the play about the legend of the Shepherds?" Sorey asked, watching as the four other children on stage moved to bow before the girl with the wooden sword. A boy then approached the girl to drape a white cloak over her shoulders.

There was a pause, and Sorey sensed Lailah's hesitation, barely discernible above the crowd chatter; her brows were creased ever-so-slightly, as if she was wrestling with a decision of sorts. But soon she was all smiles again, and she replied brightly, "It's a re-telling of the appearance of a young hero. A hero who wished - out of the pureness of her own heart - to carry on a promise to a dear friend, and to help cleanse the world of malevolence."

"Her?" Mikleo glanced at the fire seraph, before his eyes widened in understanding, his lips curved into a fond grin. "Ah, I take it they mean Rose?"

"The details change off and on, depending on who gets to write the script," Lailah said, chuckling softly into her hands, pointing towards a girl standing a little way off beside the makeshift stage. "I believe this year it was little Mairead's turn as stage director, and this happens to be her favourite version of the legend."

"Well, it's still a tremendous step up from the festival five years back when the playwright named the Shepherd Slay. Much to little Meebo's immense chagrin." Edna added helpfully, darting a smirk at Sorey. "It's all sorts of amusing, really, that they had so obviously misspelled your name."

"I wasn't that annoyed, you know," Mikleo groused, even as he crinkled his nose in obvious disfavour. "It's just that... 'Slay' is such an unfitting name, especially for one as gentle a person as Sorey. It didn't help that their portrayal of the Shepherd was too reckless and too meddlesome in war."

Beside him, Zaveid let out a hearty chuckle, patting the water seraph on the back in an attempt to placate him. "Can you really blame the kids though? Most accounts of the Shepherd in stories are still highly romanticised – they're almost always about Shepherds running off to slay monsters and dragons because that's what's entertaining to humans. So it's no surprise that particular name stuck. And no offense, Sorey"–the old seraph turned and leaned close to rest an elbow on Sorey's left shoulder–"but your name is a little weird."

Sorey couldn't help but laugh, before he returned his gaze to the stage once again, and at Mairead, who was standing close by the side, almost unnoticeable in the sea of people surrounding her. She was staring up at the stage intently, her eyes fixed upon the actors and her lips moving soundlessly as she mouthed every single line with an intensity that matched her gaze. Sitting at her feet upon its hunches was a brown puppy no older than six moons, its furry tail swishing left-right-left, its tongue lolling out from the heat of the day.

Mairead's name did not strike him as unique – it was a common enough name and he'd seen it several times in books he'd read, but something about the girl and her pup touched him. He frowned, thinking, searching. There was a similar memory (an incident?) once, long ago – he was sure of this. And yet... try as he might to recall the memory, it would not surface.

"Mairead!"

The sound of another voice drew Sorey out of his thoughts. He shooked his head, lifting his head once more, and saw Mairead now standing at the foot of the stage. It seemed that the play had ended and the crowd was now slowly dispersing away. The actress who had pulled out the wooden sword ran down the steps towards Mairead, her white cloak whirling about behind her from the movement. She was grinning widely as she grasped Mairead's hand, rocking back and forth on her heels in excitement.

Sorey watched in mild amusement at the exchange that followed between the girls:

"How did I do this time, Mairead? I never thought I'd feel so nervous performing on a stage!"

"I'd say you were practically stealing the show," Mairead chuckled. "Not that you don't already do so on a daily basis. Right, Princess Raea?"

Princess? Sorey wondered, before he was visited again by a rush of emotions, a glimpse of a memory–

The young knight stood strong and proud before her people, her countenance set with a radiant smile; her eyes the luminous green of pastures in summer and her long wheat-blonde hair worn in beautiful curls

The actress, Princess Raea, only giggled and nudged an elbow into her friend's ribs. "You're such a tease, Mairead, I swear. Now, be honest. Was I awful? Did I miss any lines?" She brushed a hand anxiously over the front of her cloak.

Mairead shook her head, her eyes gleaming dreamily. "You were perfect, Raea. When you finally pull out the Sacred Blade in the Sanctuary some day and become a real Shepherd Princess, I'm going to be your Squire. Then we'll finally be able to go see all the amazing sights those wandering seraphim told us about!"

Raea chuckled again. "And what if you're the one who pulls out the Sacred Blade?"

"Then you'll have to be my Squire and travel with me, won't you?"

"Indeed, I will! Wherever you go, Mairead, I'll come too. Even if it means disobeying Father's wishes!"

The girls dissolved into peals of laughter once more, embracing each other tightly, before running off together.

"Princess Raea is the youngest daughter in Ladylake's royal family." He heard Lailah's voice and her steady steps as she approached him, watching the girls' retreating backs with a soft smile. "She's a descendent of the Diphda line, a prominent lineage in Hyland's Royal family for many centuries. The most renowned of them was, of course, Alisha Diphda – or Alisha the Smiling, as she came to be known by the people. She was the princess knight who was once our good friend and who also served as your first Squire."

"Alisha Diphda... Alisha the Smiling," Sorey repeated the name again, slowly, feeling the weight of the earlier memory in every syllable (was that her, the knight with the grass-blade-green eyes and blonde curls? ).

He could find no other recollection of Alisha, however; her name seemed so foreign to him, even though he understood that she must have been another dear friend to him, an important figure in a life now long past.

"May I ask a favour of you, Lailah?" he asked after a bout of silent rumination. They had begun to move again, following her lead. "Could you tell me more about the other humans who had travelled with me? Alisha and–" He paused, inhaling deeply as another face – the girl from his dreams, her voice haunting and screaming, as blue lightning flashed all around them, and throbbing pain – came to mind, drifting up from the nebulous haze. Blinking, he shook his head to clear the dull throbbing in his right eye; they were surrounded by such merry cacophony from the festival that it was almost jarring.

(And yet, it was also easier to ignore the ache, to push it aside for now ).

Sorey felt Mikleo shifting beside him, sensed his friend's gaze upon him, but he could not quite bring himself to meet the unvoiced concern in those violet eyes. Pulling a faint smile, he lifted his gaze to nod at Lailah instead.

"Alisha and Rose – those were their names, right? The ones who were once my Squires?"

The fire seraph studied him wordlessly for a moment, before she nodded in understanding, returning his smile. She linked her arm around his once more, steering him from the crowd and down another path.

"Allow me then," she said cheerfully, "to show you around the Diphda mansion and perhaps we'll be able to seek your answers there."

'*'

The Diphda mansion, by all historic accounts, had stood mostly unchanged for the past two hundred years. Like the Great Sanctuary shrine, it was one of the many archaic buildings that stood out amidst the white and cream modern architecture of the Nobles' district. And much like the Sanctuary, Sorey was greeted with a sense of tranquility the moment he strode past the gates.

Lailah continued to lead the way, guiding the group across the courtyard and into the huge mansion itself. She spoke animatedly of the many generations who had resided in the mansion, before the late Queen had turned it into a private museum instead to commemorate Alisha the Smiling and her descendants' many deeds throughout the decades.

As he paced through the grand hallways, studying the decor and the various portraits of the Diphda line that hung upon the wall, Sorey was struck with wonder. This was a home that had seen the coming and passing of many lives, and with it the abundance of emotions that had mourned and celebrated those lives. It was overall a happy home and that thought set him at ease, even though he knew nothing about the families save from what he could discern from around him.

The tiny band of seraphim stepped through polished oak doors and into what looked to be a huge study room. Lailah was already standing before the brick hearth, beckoning Sorey to her side. He followed her gaze, turning his eyes to the two huge paintings that hung over the fireplace.

The first was a painting of a wedding – he recognised the bride as the same young knight he'd seen in his brief flashback. She was dressed in a beautiful laced white gown, adorned with a simple pearl necklace and earrings, and with pink flowers weaved into her long blonde curls. Beside her stood a tall and dignified man, resplendent in his suit of crimson and silver. Above them hung the heraldic banners of the Two Kingdoms – the black and red of Rolance fluttering gently alongside the blue and gold of Hyland.

"Princess Alisha never ascended the throne in her lifetime, but she was still very much adored by the people of Hyland like a queen," Lailah began, her eyes still trained on the portrait. "She was greatly respected by many in Rolance as well, even before her political marriage to the Captain of the Platinum Knights, Sergei Strelka. Both of them had worked extremely hard to negotiate a treaty through difficult times, and they were lauded for their role in upholding the peace and cementing a lasting alliance between the Two Kingdoms."

"A political marriage?" Sorey inquired. "Were they happy though, at least?"

"Alisha and Sergei saw each other as equals and pillars of support – two knights who shared the same ideals of peace and unity between their countries. It might have been recorded as a political marriage as part of the peace treaty, but they both genuinely loved each other dearly. And while they were happily married and bore many children together, there are many forms of love as well besides the ones between princesses and knights..."

The fire seraph smiled then, and Sorey could hear the affection growing in her voice when she turned towards the second portrait. It was another portrait of Alisha, this time in a regal coral dress, her wavy hair worn loose. Standing beside her was another young lady, who was leaning forward with one arm slung over the princess' shoulders, her lips curved into a grin as playful and as bright as the azure blue of her eyes. She was dressed in simple travelling clothes (a tunic, pants and sturdy boots), and the only ornaments she wore were two gold clasps in her flame-red hair. The cloak that hung around her shoulders was one that Sorey quickly recognised – its pure-white base and embroidered thorn and circle motifs in black trimmings were that of a Shepherd's mantle.

"Alisha loved Rose as dearly as she did her husband, and the two remained as beloved friends throughout their years together."

Sorey tapped a finger against his jaw, considering Lailah's words. "Rose was my second Squire, right? And the Shepherd after me? What was it like for her after... when she took up the mantle instead?"

"She was your successor in that regard, yes. And as for her life as a Shepherd... Well, it was challenging at the beginning – as most things are – but Rose had always been very adaptable." Lailah was chuckling fondly now. "You could say she took to it like fish to water."

Mikleo, who had been hovering close beside them and listening, only let out a soft sigh. He shook his head, lips quirked into a fond smile. "More like she charged head-along into it, like a miniature whirlwind. She was just determined like that."

"Indeed, she was," Lailah agreed, hiding another laugh behind a hand.

"Did she ever marry and had a family?" Sorey asked.

Lailah shook her head. "Rose, true to herself, never married. She was far from lonely, however – she may have been on the road a lot, but she was always surrounded by the ones she cherished and trusted, and she was vivacious even up to her old age."

"Part of our little lady Shepherd's charm," Zaveid chimed from where he'd been leaning against the windowsill, eyes still fixed at the scenery outside. He glanced back at his companions with an easy grin. "We're alike that way. People like us, we choose to roam free and heed only to the voice of the wind."

From her selected spot in the room – a cosy armchair beside an old mouldy bookcase – Edna was already pulling a look of disdain, brows creased in annoyance. "There he goes again, turning everything back to himself."

Mikleo nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Rose wasn't like you – she was fiercely independent. You're just flighty."

"Also disgusting," Edna added helpfully with a nasty smile.

At the sudden slew of accusations, Zaveid raised both arms up over himself, as if to shield himself from the glares the two were directing his way.

"Sheesh, you two sure aren't pulling any punches now, are you? When you work in tandem like this, even a seasoned old seraph like me doesn't stand a chance!"

"It sure takes the wind out of one's sails, doesn't it?" Lailah quipped, before she gasped, her eyes growing wide when she caught sight of Zaveid's betrayed expression at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Zaveid! I had not meant for it to come out that way."

Sorey laughed despite himself, but he knew the wind seraph enough by now to understand how his banter went with his other companions. Seeing all these people who were seemingly distant and indifferent on the surface, but were tied together by a deeper sense of camaraderie and a bond forged a lifetime ago – he found some comfort in that.

(And yet... he alone could not recall these bonds, could not feel the strength of it...)

He shook his head – not yet, not here; this isn't the time for it – and beamed brightly instead.

"Seems like Rose had a fulfilling life with everyone, even out on the road. I'm really glad to hear it."

They spent the remainder of the afternoon ambling through parts of the mansion, with Lailah showing off more portraits and statues of Alisha and Sergei's children, and of their children's children. Sorey listened in quiet fascination when the other seraphim began exchanging tales of their human companions, reminiscing fondly of incidents that had stayed with them. There had been so much laughter, tears and heartache shared between them all, it was almost a wonder they could remember some of these incidents so vividly even after all these centuries, and–

(And even though he knew, deep, deep down, it was through no fault of his own doing, he felt it still; the slightest pang of envy, the painful twinge of guilt–)

When they had glimpsed what they could, the group headed outside once again. Instead of crossing the courtyard to the gated entrance, Lailah led them to an enclosed plot of land located behind the mansion. As they walked through the iron gates, Sorey noticed the small stone shrines erected on either side of the gateway with offerings – hand-rolled rice balls wrapped and placed in a basket weaved from dried leaves – for seraphim, in return for their blessings to keep the land fortified and pure.

Sorey trailed after Lailah, treading softly upon the dewy blades of grass. The ground was misty with the white florets of dandelions; tiny specks of filament burst free from the stems each time he brushed through the grass, and caught by the cool spring breeze, was buffeted up to the endlessness of the painted sky above them. Before long, he soon found himself standing in the shade of a single birch tree and before a grave much bigger than the others in the burial ground.

Alisha and Sergei's graves were not as decorated as some of the ancient burial mounds he had come across in his early journeys through the mountains after his awakening. If he had not heard of their history from Lailah, Sorey might not have guessed it was a grave built for a respected captain of the royal guard and for a much beloved princess of the people. Still, they were hardly modest – the engravings etched upon the weathered headstones were skillfully crafted; the marble gleamed a rich creamy-white underneath the dried earth that Mikleo was now carefully polishing away with the sleeve of his tunic; and the muted gold lettering was lit in an incandescent glow whenever slivers of the setting sun fell upon it.

He was still studying the graves when Edna abruptly moved forward and he noticed, for the first time, the small bunch of flowers she held in one hand (had she procured them earlier from one of the many flower stalls that lined the streets? Sorey wasn't sure). The flowers were small and white, with a yellow centre and a bright pink tinge around the edges of each petal. He watched as Edna carefully placed the flowers into a stained-glass jar beside the headstones, before he felt Lailah's gaze upon him. It wasn't until he had glanced up – first at the fire seraph's kind and encouraging smile, and then at Mikleo's reassuring nod – that Sorey felt prepared to step closer and kneel beside the water seraph right before the graves.

"Hello, Alisha, Sergei," he said softly. He lifted a hand to brush against the weathered marble plaque, feeling the grainy texture of the headstone against his palm. "It seems that we never really got the chance to bid each other a proper farewell, did we? I can't even really be certain of that. It's been so very long, and I don't remember most of the past..."

He paused, thinking back to the brief flash of memory that had visited him, to all the portraits and statues of Hyland's beloved Princess Knight and her family, and those who'd served her throughout her lustrous lifetime. And it came to him then, with sudden clarity, that though he retained no memory of Alisha or Sergei, he still felt genuine relief and joy to know that Alisha had lived a long, fulfilling life surrounded by all that she loved and by people – both human and seraphim – who had returned the love a hundredfold.

I wish I could have recalled your voices, your laughter, and what they had meant to me at least; it was what he'd wanted to say, as a multitude of regrets rested at the tip of his tongue, his features traced with a shade of guilt.

(It isn't your fault, it's the way of things, of rebirth; but still, but still–)

Instead, he exhaled slowly, pulling a gentle smile. He reached towards a cluster of wild flowers growing within arm's reach by the grave, selecting the brightest one.

"Even so," he continued, adding the single yellow flower to Edna's bundle in the jar. "I'm really glad to be able to learn about you and Sergei all over again."

He would have stayed a little longer before the grave in silent reflection, but there was already a strange tingling sensation in his right foot, that was slowly creeping up along the whole of his right leg. Without thinking, Sorey let out a surprised gasp, flailing and shifting his weight to his left side. He stretched out his right leg to ease the uncomfortable numbness and the ripple of pins-and-needles prickling all over his skin. In doing so, he would have very nearly tipped over the jar of flowers with his hand – had Mikleo not hastily reached out in time to steady it.

"Sorey," Mikleo let out a long-suffering sigh, before he chided lightly, "please, be more careful."

The sudden flurry of movement from the two young seraphim had the others break into a chorus of amused murmurs and laughter, just as the green boughs above them began rustling lazily in the evening breeze. For the barest of moments, Sorey thought he could almost hear another, softer voice laughing alongside them, the sound of falling blossoms – a young knight with the radiant smile and blade-green eyes – ringing in his ears.

.

.

~.*.~


:::

- Couldn't decide whether to tag Alisha/Sergei and Alisha/Rose (if you squint) for pairings, considering they don't actually show up in person but are still mentioned for half the chapter. But I realised that FFnet doesn't let you tag for more than four characters anyway, so the point is moot, lol.

- #Let Alisha & Sergei be loved and celebrated by the people 2k17.

- W-what are consistent updates? ^^;