Chapter 11: The Elixir of Dawn
The first sounds of the new day were the rhythmic clop-clop-clop of hooves and the low rumble of wooden wheels on smooth, stone pavers. Their carriage was crossing a wide bridge over a dark, slow-moving river. A fresh, thin layer of snow coated the stone, but it was not deep enough to impede their progress, compressing into slush under the horses' weight. The sky was a deep, pre-dawn indigo, and the snow, which had fallen so heavily hours before, was now just a calm, quiet drift of flakes.
Through this silent veil, the walls of the Saita Kingdom's capital emerged. They were massive, ancient barriers of grey stone, far grander than anything in Butita or Saikono. Two colossal watchtowers flanked a gateway closed by a heavy iron portcullis. As the carriage approached, the portcullis was already raised, its spiked teeth hanging high above, offering open passage.
At the pinnacle of each tower, a small, glass-paneled room sat like a lantern, a sign within each reading Observation Post. Above the archway, a wide, simple banner of dark green wool, already dusted with snow, declared in bold white letters: WELCOME TO THE SAITA KINGDOM.
Two Knights in gleaming, jet-black armor stood at ease beside the gate. Their matching helms were tucked under their arms, revealing a man and a woman with sharp, professional faces. As the carriage driver slowed the horses, the female Knight smiled.
"Hmph. Look who the blizzard blew in," she called out, her voice cheerful. "Still hauling cargo at this hour, Elian?"
The young driver, Elian, chuckled and pulled the reins. "Someone has to keep the capital fed, Myra. Can't let a little snow stop me."
The male Knight, a man with a sharp jaw and weary brown eyes, leaned over and peered into the back of the open wagon. He saw two young figures, a boy and a girl, both fast asleep and leaning against the wagon's sides. "They're dead to the world," he noted.
"They have the Raganda Academy entrance exam tomorrow," Elian explained in a lower voice.
The two Knights shared a look, their expressions softening with a sudden, shared nostalgia. "The Academy exam?" Myra said, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "That brings back memories."
"What days those were," the male Knight agreed, shaking his head. "I almost envy them, getting to live it for the first time." He stepped back and waved the driver on. "Alright, Elian, you're clear to pass. Stay warm out there."
"You too," the driver called back, and with a light flick of the reins, the carriage rumbled through the towering gate and into the capital.
The city within was a stark, beautiful contrast to the villages. The buildings were two and three stories tall, their foundations built of solid, grey stone, but their upper floors blossomed into fantastical designs of dark, rich wood. Snow clung to the peaked roofs and gabled windows. The streets were wide and paved, and even at this dark hour, life was present. Flowers—impossible in the snow—adorned the window boxes and even the rooftops, glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. Pinks, whites, soft greens, and pale blues pulsed with a gentle, fantasy-like luminescence, casting a magical, colorful light onto the snow-covered streets. High overhead, spanning the street just past the gate, a massive cloth banner tied between two tall houses flapped gently: WELCOME TO THE SAITA KINGDOM.
An hour passed. The carriage rumbled on, the sky just beginning to pale from indigo to a soft, bruised purple.
In the back of the wagon, Fayrouz stirred. Her fingers, resting at her neck, twitched. Even with the blue blindfold covering her eyes, she seemed to sense the change in the air. She slowly pulled the cloth covering down. Her blue eyes, which had been hidden for the journey, blinked open slowly. As they did, the first, weak rays of the sunrise crested the distant city wall, striking her face. She blinked, her pupils contracting, and then looked back over the side of the wagon. The world was taking its first waking breath. The snow had stopped, and though the ground was covered, a few early risers were already beginning to move through the streets, their boots crunching on the fresh powder. Merchants were quietly unlatching the shutters of their shops. Patrols of Knights, some in the same black armor as the gate guards, others in shining silver, walked the streets, their presence a calm assurance of safety. The day had begun.
Fayrouz turned to Fulan. She reached out and touched his leg. "You," she said, her voice clear. "Wake up. We've arrived in the Saita Kingdom."
His brow furrowed, and he woke with a small grunt, disoriented. He rubbed his eyes and then looked over the side of the wagon. His sleep-filled expression vanished, replaced by quiet awe. He saw the wide, paved streets, the glowing flowers, the tall, fantastical buildings, and the people of a true capital city beginning their day.
The carriage suddenly rolled to a stop, jostling them both. Elian, the driver, looked back over his shoulder, a friendly grin on his face. "Oh, you're awake! Good, because we're here."
Fayrouz, ignoring her own waking stiffness, touched the blue cloth tied around her neck. It shimmered with her Minma, the fabric flowing and reshaping itself until it became a simple, elegant blue headband, which she settled just above her brow. "We need a pharmacy," she stated. "One close to Raganda Academy."
"I remember your request," Elian said, nodding. "That's why I stopped here. Take a look."
Fayrouz stood and hopped lightly down from the wagon onto the snow. Fulan moved to follow, swinging his leg over the side. The moment he put weight on his left foot, a blinding, electric pain shot up his leg, stealing his breath. He hissed, collapsing back against the wagon.
Fayrouz was already there, holding out her hand. "Don't strain yourself."
He grit his teeth, took her hand, and hopped down on his one good foot, his arm immediately going over her shoulder for support. She looked at him, then at his injured ankle, and sighed. "Seriously? Getting an injury like this right before the exam?"
"Not much I could do," Fulan muttered, his face tight with pain. "You saw what happened."
Fayrouz scanned their surroundings. Across the street was their destination. The shop had a large, clear sign depicting a mortar and pestle, with the words Willow's Bend Apothecary painted in gentle green letters. Through the wide glass window, they could see rows upon rows of dried herbs.
"That'll be one hundred Diamo each for the ride," Elian said, hopping down from his driver's seat.
Fulan, still leaning on Fayrouz, reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, heavy sack. He untied it and fished out two silver coins, each bearing the serpent stamp of the Tania Kingdom. The driver's eyes widened.
"The Tania Kingdom!" he said, a note of wonder in his voice. "I haven't seen a traveler from there in ages. They still use real silver in their currency." He took the coins, his smile broadening. "One of these is worth a hundred Diamo, and a gold one a thousand. This is perfect."
Fulan offered a small smile. "Thank you for the safe trip." As he put the sack away, Fayrouz noted that it was still quite full.
"Are you the son of a wealthy family?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I just have a little sister in this world," Fulan replied evasively.
Fayrouz's blue eyes lingered on him for a moment as he struggled to move. She adjusted her position to better support his weight, and together, they began to limp towards the open door of the apothecary.
The moment they entered, a bell tinkled softly. The inside of the shop was warm and smelled wonderful—a complex, earthy aroma of dried herbs, brewing teas, and curing spices. The wooden floorboards were polished to a high sheen. Bundles of herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling, while the walls were lined with shelves holding countless glass jars filled with colorful powders, liquids, and strange roots.
Behind a high wooden counter stood a man in a crisp white medical coat and round spectacles. He was middle-aged, with kind, hazel-colored eyes and receding brown hair. He looked up from a book and smiled. "Welcome. How can I help you two this fine morning?"
Fulan and Fayrouz took a few halting steps inside, Fulan leaning heavily on her as his eyes darted over the fascinating inventory. Before they could answer, the apothecary pushed his glasses up his nose, his gaze sharpening on Fulan's leg. "Hmm," he said, "that looks like a nasty sprain."
He walked out from behind the counter. "Allow me," he said, his voice gentle but firm. Before Fulan could protest, the man had deftly scooped him up in a surprisingly strong carry. "This will be faster."
"Isn't this a bit embarrassing?" Fulan muttered, his face flushing.
The apothecary chuckled as he walked towards a door in the back of the shop. "Don't you worry, son. You're about the same age as my own boy." He pushed the door open with his foot and carried Fulan into a brightly lit examination room. The floor here was cold, practical stone. A simple wooden bed sat in the middle, and along the walls were shelves of medical tools, clean towels, and a bucket of fresh water.
The man gently set Fulan down on the bed. "Alright, let's have a look," he said, carefully removing Fulan's boot. Fayrouz followed them in, her face a mask of concern.
As the boot and sock came off, the injury was revealed. It was far worse than a simple sprain. The entire ankle and lower shin were swollen to nearly twice their normal size, and the skin was a grotesque, mottled tapestry of dark blue and brown. Fayrouz's eyes widened in shock. "It's… that damaged?"
"Mmm," the apothecary hummed, gently probing the area. "This is more than a sprain. It's like a fracture, but the bone itself isn't broken. It's as if the entire joint and the tissue around it were hit with a massive, crushing blow."
A knot of anxiety tightened in Fulan's stomach. "Doctor," he said, his voice serious, "the Raganda Academy exam could be today, or tomorrow. Is there... is there any hope?"
The man looked up from the injury, his hazel eyes calm and assessing. He saw the genuine worry in the boy's face, the desperate hope beneath the pain. Even Fayrouz, standing stiffly by the door, radiated a quiet anxiety. The apothecary's expression softened, and he smiled, patting Fulan on the head.
"Yes," he said warmly. "That's the spirit I'd expect from a candidate for that old Academy. I can't let that fire in your eyes be for nothing." He stood up. "Wait here a moment."
He bustled out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. Fayrouz turned to Fulan. "How did it get this bad? You were just knocked down."
Fulan stared at his swollen, discolored leg. "You remember Borin's last move? The one Valerius blocked?"
"Yes," Fayrouz said, placing a thoughtful finger on her chin. "His speed at the end was unnatural. I never would have imagined someone with his build could move that fast."
"It wasn't just his speed," Fulan said, his voice grim. "The power in that final strike was overwhelming. Did you see a change in his Minma? A flare-up?"
Fayrouz closed her eyes, replaying the scene in her mind. "No," she said slowly. "Nothing. His Minma aura looked stable, just as it had been. But…" A memory sparked. "Valerius said something. He was angry... What was that word? Mee-kai?"
"MiKai," Fulan repeated, the word feeling heavy on his tongue. "It has to be a technique. A power. One that even your eyes can't analyze?"
The apothecary re-entered the room, interrupting their thoughts. He was holding a small, crystal-clear glass bottle filled with a thick, emerald-green paste. "Don't you worry your head about such things right now, son," he said kindly. "Instead, let's focus on healing this. Are you ready? This... this might hurt quite a bit."
Fulan and Fayrouz exchanged a nervous glance, then Fulan nodded, bracing himself against the wooden bed.