Shoving the gold pouch inside my jacket, I looked at him, forcing a calm face even though I knew I'd revealed quite a bit. "I-Is there any means to decline this summons?"
"I'm not sure." He replied. "Unless you're of royal noble descent. Or perhaps, the only option is to flee this empire."
Slumped against the counter, my body felt suddenly heavy, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Escape? Walk away from everything I've built, but where would that leave me? Yet, if I don't, how can I allow Kian onto the battlefield when he's still too vulnerable to survive?
"You have a younger brother, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow.
"Yes..." I murmured to myself, my voice catching with overwhelming emotions.
A little brother, still asleep, lost in his own fairy tales, clueless about the ruthless reality awaiting him.
"Twelve?"
"Yes..." The reply escaped as a sigh, laden with sorrow.
"Is your younger brother talented?"
"He's...very intelligent." I answered, a lump in my throat. "He taught himself to write and he loves the books I bring home. Always curious, asking about everything..."
"And is the boy healthy?"
That cursed question. To be deemed "healthy" is to be fit for conscription, fit for war, fit for...an early grave in a land of smoke and gunfire.
"I...I suppose so."
"Is that so?" He arched an eyebrow. "But that's not what's on their list."
"W-What list?" I gaped at him, a sudden chill spreading through my bloodstream.
"The conscription list." He replied curtly. "Your brother's name is on it, Kian Lachezar Diotisalvi, correct? Twelve years old, from the forgotten district of the Empire. Didn't your father also serve in the army?"
Cold beads of sweat suddenly erupted across my forehead, trickled down my neck, indifferent to the freezing air clinging to the room. Then, in a single heartbeat, the world tilted. They knew, about Kian, about our family, about every last secret we'd buried.
"...You-You know my brother?..."
"Don't know, I just merely overheard." Amir responded. "However, they will undoubtedly dispatch someone to draft him. It's likely that within a week, your brother will be required to report to the Southern encampment."
"N-No. He's far too young, merely twelve years old..." The words poured out like a breach in a dam as I frantically sought every justification to shield Kian. "He...He has never wielded a sword. Kian only knows how to read, he fears blood and even wept upon seeing a deceased cat..."
"They won't think twice about exiling those who dodge the draft. And it's not just them, the whole family will be implicated." He exhaled softly. "This empire, it has ceased to care for its populace and yet it still contrives such schemes."
Deportation? That's unacceptable. We suffered through so much hardship just to put down roots in this land, in the land that offered our new lives a chance to flourish. All that sweat, all those tears, even the shame of begging on our knees. And now...
...But to send Kian off to war?...
Hunched over the rickety old chair, a thousand chaotic thoughts swirled in my mind. Fear and helplessness intertwined, twisting into a suffocating knot in my chest, like an impossible tangle that felt like it could never be undone.
Silently, my gaze fell upon him. "And what about you?" I asked hesitantly. "Will you...join the army too?"
"No. I am an immigrant, the summons will not reach me." A fleeting, poignant smile touched his lips. "I possess neither a home nor the status of a citizen in this empire. I'm just a mouse living on borrowed time."
"...Right..."
So in the end, it was just us, those who once yearned to belong, who foolishly entrusted our whole faith to this land.
The sickly yellow oil lamps in the tavern grew hazy as the surrounding chatter receded into some distant realm that no longer concerned me. Rising slowly, my legs weighed down as if shackled, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the coin purses sewn into my jacket lining. Those shiny gold coins were meaningless now. No fortune, no matter how vast, could possibly shield innocent children from the horrors of war.
Perhaps I should leave.
"...I'll head out early today, thank you for the information..." I bowed slowly.
"Take care." He murmured, seeing perhaps confusion and a hint of fear in my eyes. And as I turned to go, he suddenly spoke again. "If anything comes up, you can find me here. We're...friends, after all."
Friends? Friendship? The same person who may have been lying to me all these months, who warned me never to put full faith in anyone, now presumes to talk about bonds of friendship?
"Right..." I glanced over my shoulder at him, then gave one last slight bow.
Stepping out of the tavern, the bone-chilling cold of the capital's winter struck like razor-sharp ice blades slicing deep into flesh. Each step through the thick snow toward the city gate was weighed down by thoughts tangled like silk threads, raging like the snowstorm howling in my chest. Should I enlist in Kian's place? But who would stay to care for him? Flee? But where could I take him to escape this bitter cold and the war erupting on every road? The northern border was besieged by enemy forces while the southern cities offered no peace and now, snow had choked every escape route.
The hawkers' calls, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the cheerful hum of the crowd, all blended into a beloved symphony I would soon have to leave behind. Cart drivers, their faces carved by years of wandering, appeared inured to life's tempests. They looked my way with appraising glances, as if calculating if my purse held enough to buy a spot on their carts.
"Heading North, young one?" A grizzled, silver-haired man slowly approached.
"Yes, I need to go to Millbrook Village."
"I know the place. The road's long but not treacherous, though I fear the snow might be quite deep. Four coins for the trip." The old man nodded slowly, his deep eyes seeming to hold countless journeys.
From within my coat, I pulled out the small leather pouch, my fingers lightly brushing the gold coins before handing them to him. I climbed up gingerly, settling among the sweet-scented bundles of hay the old man had carefully arranged. The wagon was rustic, just a few planks of wood atop two large wheels, drawn by an aging brown horse. Yet, a thick canvas hung above the cart bed, enough to provide shelter for our journey.
"All set?" He asked.
With a flick of the reins, the driver urged the old horse into a steady plod. The wagon wheels rolled rhythmically over the stone-paved trail, creating a somber, constant cadence, like a clock ticking down the remaining time. I turned my head, gazing back at the city, imprinting upon my heart a lingering look at its towering gray stone walls stretching into the azure sky, the proud banners fluttering in the crisp wind and the first torches beginning to glow as night descended.
From here, I could clearly see the great tree in the square, the place that had nurtured dreams of a different life. Everything I once considered my destiny, all I believed would be woven into my existence, now receded behind me, mere fading images. Six months, as brief as a single breath, filled with ambitions I thought would surely blossom, had now dissolved into nothingness.
The carriage's frigid rail bit into my pale, trembling fingers, numb from both cold and dread. The wagon crept slowly across silver-white snowfields, past villages slumbering in winter's embrace beneath their snow-laden thatched roofs. Yet, no expected joy stirred within me. Instead, a leaden weight settled in my chest, an ominous premonition of unimaginable loss, merging with the marrow-deep cold that had seeped into my very bones.
In my mind, thoughts circled endlessly like the grating of wagon wheels on cobblestones. Should I leave this place, but to what end? Rush home to clutch Kian in my arms and whisper empty promises that everything will be alright, when I myself am lost in this chaos? Or simply resign myself to watching him prepare for a journey that may have no return?
Kian isn't meant for the chains of war. No, he was born for a life infinitely more beautiful.
"You alright there, kid? Not too cold?" The driver occasionally glanced back at me, perhaps observing my prolonged silence.
"Yes, I am fine." I responded, though my smile didn't reach my eyes.
"The journey home in this winter season is indeed far from simple." He remarked, perhaps seeking to bridge the quiet.
My gaze drifted outward as I offered a slight, almost floating nod. Along the roadside, deep green pines stood unwavering, enduring winter's harshness without surrender. The cutting wind whispered through every crevice, carrying with it the wistful fragrance of twilight fires.
"Each return home, I find this landscape both intimate and foreign." I murmured, unsure who I was speaking to.
"It might be that you are the one who has changed, while your homeland endures as it always has." He chuckled softly.
"Right."
The feeble winter sun hid behind thick banks of clouds. Snow began to fall again, delicate flakes dancing weightlessly on the wind. I reached out to catch a few, feeling their cold dissolve against my palm, just like my dreams, heartbreakingly beautiful for one fleeting moment.
As the carriage continued its tireless journey down the familiar road, every footprint and every bend awakened long-buried memories within me. I gently closed my eyes, letting the images flow past like a silent film reel, carrying both the sweetness of tranquil days and the bitterness of unfinished pasts.
There were moments I longed to throw myself from the carriage, to dash back toward the city. Perhaps, amidst that vast sea of people, I might find a helping hand. Perhaps, just perhaps...