January 22nd

The Treetop Town of Cleyra

...

— ...It has been some time, Your Majesty. – A long time, indeed. Five years without seeing familiar faces... – Long time no see. Grew up a beard?

— Ah, Freya, well met. – ...Such as the King's. He turned his sight away from the sandstorm outside to the Dragoon kneeling before him. – The High Priest and I welcome you.

— My Lady. – The High Priest of Cleyra spoke, in a soft and quiet way.

— A pleasure to be in your presence. – Freya said, standing up on her feet. She offers looks to her Majesty, though the respect of before is long gone. He has grew a beard, and scars. Very old scars. – But I'm afraid this ain't no time for presentations, Lord Oberon.

— Indeed. – The King noticed something different in Freya. – These are dark times for the land who never saw the sun shine.

— I was in Burmecia. – The Dragoon can't avoid looking back at the past while comparing it to the present and see how much has changed. And how a few things never did. – Where you should have been until the end.

— Are you insinuating that I'm a coward? – The King saw his pride be shattered in front of him.

— Isn't that obvious? – 'to run away with a tail between legs' never sounded so clear and ironic for Freya. – Where were you when your people needed you the most, Majesty?

— I ask you the same, Freya Crescent. Where were you when Burmecia was needed?

— I promised I'd be back. – Despite sounding shaken by the truth and pain, Freya keeps her seriousness before her Majesty. – Well, here I am. At least, I can fulfill my promises.

— And yet, you have failed. – The King's presence heavies the Burmecian's steps and breath.

— I tried, which's a thing you never did. – To reply to the old ones... That would be worth a punishment, Freya thought to herself.

— We are not here for disagreements, Lady. – The High Priest intervened. – Instead... It would appear that this predicament no longer concerns Burmecia alone.

— I understand, Your Holiness. – Freya replied, as she realized her cool attitude was taken away in exchange of disgust and hatred feeded over the years. – I have a reason to be here. Right now, Alexandria is planning to violate this sanctuary, and I won't let them to, not again. Yet... I fear my strength alone may not suffice.

— Freya...I know what troubles you. – Oberon looked closely at one of his best knights, as he felt for her longing. – I must apologize for earlier. Can you ever forgive me? No! Of course you cannot. But the fate of the people of Burmecia and Cleyra now hangs by a thread.

— It ain't your fault that the man I love is gone. – how Freya hated to look so frail and weak before others. – That was Sir Fratley's decision, while mine was staying. Not to protect you! Because you can surely take care of yourself. You are not a baby in need of being paid attention all the time. I heard your cries already, and know that I'll do my best to protect Cleyra. I swear, off my chest.

— You are not alone, Freya. – Said Oberon, to which he turned to his own solitude. – Me, however... Have you seen Puck?

— Prince Puck? I haven't saw him in months. – He left Burmecia months after I did, Freya thought. – We crossed ways, but he went on a different path than mine.

— I see. How's my son doing? – The King asked, showing concern.

— He's fine. – While Freya had none. But her mind was never at peace, always open for worries. – It's my fault, isn't it?

— What do you mean?

— Puck left home because of me. Not me, but... He too wanted to find Sir Fratley. – The Dragoon feels, once again, the pain of continuous thinking and a wounded heart to follow. – 'Things would have been much easier with Sir Fratley in here', he said.

— Sir Fratley? I heard about his whereabouts. – The King of Burmecia has long accepted that Fratley Irontail, a knight on same level as Freya, is-

— He's not dead, my Majesty. – Freya doesn't agree with the 'fact' she has been told about a million times. – and I'm willing to prove it.

— Five years, and you haven't proved anything. – Oberon looked with disbelief towards Freya. The same he holded years ago. – As I recall, you said you wouldn't come home empty-handed.

— As a Dragoon Knight, it's my duty to attend and solve any urgence. – Despite having grown a bad blood between her Majesty, Freya still holds true to her ideals. – Back then, we were not expecting a massacre of this... Plentitude.

— None of us were. – Both Burmecians were out of words for a moment.

— Perhaps... These are the sins of the father. – The Priest of Cleyra, Erasmus, was fond of silence. However, he could not ignore the tension, even when watering the flowers. – Burmecia has fought against Alexandria for so long. No matter the amount of innocent blood poured, the families ruined, both sides insisted for the conflict to never cease. Our ancestors. Those who believed and dreamed with wars ending with pacific resolutions, they have found a refuge here, at Cleyra, within the everlasting sandstorm. They would not be pursued by their Burmecian brothers here, they would be safer from the world outside. Though, as the nations grew in power and hunger, I'm afraid, really afraid that the sandstorm won't resist such an onslaught.

— Nobody wins forever. – King Oberon said, distracted by the Priest's words.

— Have we ever won anything, my Lord? – Freya asked, holding off so many unanswered questions, and cynical answers for each. – We have lost so many men for nothing...

— You will never forgive me. To this day, you won't accept my apologies. – The monarch didn't like to show any sign of weakness, but he couldn't disguise it to the lady in red. – No matter how much I feel sorry, it won't be enough. I too lost my father to war.

— But he was MY father. – Freya stared deep at Oberon's soul. – Friedrich Crescent was at your command, at your mercy. He liked you, and as a favor for his loyalty, you sent him to his doom, together of a hundred. If that's not what he wanted, to die for his kingdom...

— We don't live in the past, Crescent. – It was the King's turn to delve into the depths within Freya's looks. – instead, we learn from it. A good man once told me.

— I know. I loved this very good man. – Sir Fratley... that name pursues the Dragoon and mixes with her feelings like no one else. – And I still love him, after all these years.

— And did he love you back? – It's a question that haunts Freya as well, perhaps more than Fratley himself. – I know how it feels to be loved by someone and not know how the other partner in the relationship feels about it.

— You don't know a damn thing about what happened between me and Sir Fratley, as well as being off your concern!

— I am worried about you, Crescent. – The King of Burmecia saw many people come and go. He too knew love, how it made him say and do things he was not willing to. – In your actual state of mind, it's impressive that you found a way to reach this far.

— I had to. I couldn't just let Alexandria win. I won't let them humiliate me and my people this time. As for you, my Majesty... Consider your 'strategic evasion' with other eyes. – Like father, like son... Except Puck was no coward, thought Freya. Neither am I.