[[Filler chapter is filler.

This wasn't going to be the mask chapter, but somehow it worked its way in from the outsider's perspective. This also was going to be a super SHORT filler to introduce another arc. Maybe a few paragraphs long, at most? Well, SO MUCH FOR THAT PLAN! XD I got to writing, and next thing I knew I had over 1000 words and counting in world-building. It almost ended up in the deleted scenes file. No promises that I won't revise it more later.]]

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Chapter 5

At the Pixie's Bind

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There weren't many business establishments along the numerous roads and trails of Weyard. Not outside of the cities, towns, and settlements, at least. Monsters had lingered as a steady presence following the Golden Sun event, and few entrepreneurs saw fit to risk their fortunes outside of the regular protection of society's guards and militias. Those who did, however, had seen a niche market and taken their chances.

One such place in the southern region of Angara was The Pixie's Bind. Located one bridge east of Harapa, and a dried riverbed and a couple mountainous ridges west of Ayuthay, the site had initially been a staging area for supplies. With the destruction and changes caused by Alchemy's release, displaced refugees had settled among the abandoned Harapa Ruins, slowly but surely converting it into a livable town over the years. That supply site had expanded to include shelter for traveling merchants, as well as anyone caught outside of the ruins' defensive walls at night. With Harapa's construction completed, the site had become more abandoned than the now populated ruins. That was when Dipa had snapped up the remains.

The muscular woman had an outwardly surly demeanor, one that strongly discouraged others from causing trouble within her place of business. It had served her well as forewoman, a task that had her overseeing all resources that passed in and out, and dealing with any less-than-honest suppliers looking for an easy mark. As such, no one questioned it when Dipa switched her apparent role to that of an innkeeper. The merchant shelter was soon enclosed with four walls as a tavern, and a two-story inn attached to the side where supplies had previously been piled and sorted.

Dipa was someone who had a mind for numbers, and an impressive memory for faces. Even the local bandits knew better than to draw Dipa's ire, lest they forever lose their access to good ale, a hot meal, and a warm bed should they need it. She'd do it, too. Only a handful of people had tested her, and rumor had it they now traveled almost to Sana or into Gondowan to find a bar that would still accept their money.

As for masks, they weren't uncommon enough to draw particular attention. The Warriors of Vale may have "saved" the world, but the upset hadn't left the people unscathed. Anyone could look to Harapa for proof of that. And masks? Simply another resource for the wounded. Adepts with healing powers had been in high demand, but the business of making and selling masks had seen plenty of demand as well in those early years.

Not all physical wounds could be whisked away in a shower of lights. Better to be glanced at for a piece of colorful wood, cloth, or paper, than stared at for a healing wound or permanent disfigurement.

Dipa had seen many masks pass through the Bind. Most stayed the same between visits. Some upgraded or were discarded. Others were attempts to avoid recognition. Dipa had to allow an inward chuckle at those ones. They weren't nearly as sneaky as they thought they were around her.

Case in point, the man who sat at the far end of the bar, away from the lights and regulars and nursing a bowl of stew. That man didn't pass through often, maybe once or twice a year, but Dipa remembered him.

The sad one with the turquoise hair.

No, no, he never shed a tear, nor did he regale anyone with a tale of woe. In fact, he never said anything beyond a curt—but polite!—request for his food, drink, and a key to a room. But Dipa had seen enough in her time to read a person. And in an area that had been settled by the grieving, there were too many others who matched that man's body language.

At first, the Turquoise Man had worn a full mask with only one eye visible. From what Dipa guessed, it was wood under the dull, gray paint, with a rough scrap of thin rope holding it in place. The site had still been for housing resources at the time. The man had requested a place to sleep for the night, and selected the cot farthest from a gaggle of masons who had hoped to sell their craft the next day. He'd left as soon as light had crept into the sky, before the sun had even peeked over the mountains. Simply another displaced soul passing through. He'd had a tight, sullen, and seething quality to him at the time. Someone who had been wronged, who was on their guard, but who had not yet been beaten. Someone who still planned to strike back.

And that had been that. Well, until about a half year later. The Mourning Moon had hit the Harapa settlement hard. Their Adepts were drained, construction goals set back, and a wave of emboldened monsters had to be fended off. The walls that raised at night had helped defend them, but there were still injuries. One death had occurred out at Dipa's supply site, and the body of a departing merchant was discovered beside the road towards Konpa and Lamakan a day later. Spirits were dampened as residents likened the event to their experiences during the Golden Sun event ten years prior.

Oh, but did you hear? Something ancient had been activated in Ayuthay. Barai Pond had been filled, the temple submerged, and the people there were starting to prosper.

There was hope again in Ei-Jei.

The Turquoise Man passed through not long after. Dipa paid him little mind, other than to idly notice the haphazard streaks of blue now painted over the gray. The rope had been replaced with a smooth, blue ribbon. His demeanor seemed… lighter. Centered. Focused. Perhaps he had finally struck back at what had wronged him. Or, perhaps, he had found some new goal to strive for. Something far healthier than revenge. Again, the man slept separate from others, and, again, he left at first light.

Life went on. Harapa was rebuilt, the supply site abandoned, and the Pixie's Bind established. In Ayuthay, a prince was born, and a princess was mourned. When next the Turquoise Man passed through, his demeanor had turned cold. Dipa recognized the stilted movements and distracted speech. This was someone going through the motions while processing a major blow. Someone who had lost something. Shock, as Dipa had once heard a healer call it. It was the last time she saw the gray and blue mask.

Over the years, the man began to show more of his face. First, his mouth and chin. Then the left jawline. The left cheek. The left side of his nose. Either the man was slowly healing from something physical, or he cared less to hide who he was. Maybe a little of both. But his posture when he thought no one was looking? That spoke plenty. It had been speaking the same for the last seven years.

Dipa refilled his mug without prompting. The man tensed, hunched over his bowl and not expecting to be caught unaware of the innkeeper's presence. He'd barely eaten, yet he had drained the first drink. His mouth frowned and opened to speak.

"On the house," Dipa answered shortly. It wasn't her job to care if someone opted for the liquid diet that came in a mug, pitcher, or keg. It also wasn't like he drank nearly as much as some of the Bind's other patrons. "You can pay for the next one."

The Turquoise Man sat up and considered her with the one visible eye, eventually settling on the forced, beguiling smile of a person trying to sell something. He raised his drink with a nod in salute. "You have my thanks." He held the look as they stared at each other, likely waiting for Dipa to move on.

She didn't.

"You a Mercury Adept?" Did he seriously stop breathing at the question? "Not many Adepts or Jenei or whatevers still around in this area. Can't say there were many with blue hair when we did have them, though."

The man huffed a laugh. "An astute observation." He set down his mug, finding something much more interesting in its contents than the person on the other side of the counter.

Dipa could recognize an attempt at silent dismissal when she saw one. She was also very good at ignoring them. "Ever thought of teaching what you know?"

The next sound the man made was a cross between a scoff and choking on air. There must have been some irony in Dipa's words. The man coughed into a fist to clear his throat, not quite meeting her eyes. "May I ask, is there a purpose to this line of inquiry?"

Dipa shrugged. "Have you?"

"I fail to see the relevance."

"Simply a question."

"Why?"

"Would you not be a good one?"

"How is that at all important?"

"It's a yes or no question."

"One which I respectfully decline to answer."

Dipa smirked as she slid a paper in front of the man, turned for him to read. She left him to his momentary bafflement without further comment.

As far as Dipa was concerned, only academics, merchants, and politicians talked with such formality, and all three were trying to sell something. The lack of any pitch meant it was in the past. Plus, he'd kept a controlled temper throughout her pestering.

The Turquoise Man would do just fine for the job.

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Alex lightly touched his fingers to the bottom edge of the paper.

King Paithos of Ayuthay was calling for Adepts… to train the prince…

The seven-year-old Prince Amiti was an Adept.

Alex had been sneaking into the city and palace to watch over the prince his entire life, and not once had the boy shown signs of Psynergy. Not when ill, not when kidnapped, not even when losing any one of his baby teeth (Alex had nearly revealed himself when a door became involved). But to be in need of training at so young an age, when most Adepts didn't formally start until at least their pre-teens… What did a sudden onset of Psynergy mean? Did it mean anything? Was it normal? Was it concerning? Should he be consulting a Great Healer from one of the Adept towns?!

He silenced the flicker of panic (Or at least told himself he had) (But he really, really hadn't). There was no point in fretting when he had already been en route to Ayuthay. Alex would simply find out for himself how the prince's skills were progressing when he got there.

When the innkeeper next looked in that direction, Alex had already made his way to his room for the night. He left the decree where it was beside the untouched mug and half-eaten bowl of stew, and departed east at first light.

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To Be Continued

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