“I’m sorry. I can no longer return to Dilhade,” Farris said. “The Immovable King has his faults, and is a far cry from beautiful, but I remain his subordinate. On his behalf do I apologize.”
“Hey! Why do you always have to be like that, Farris?” Zaimon complained.
But Farris paid him no mind. “But I must tell you that I am now a castle demon of Balandias. I was born and raised there. I have a hometown and comrades, and Zaimon is one of them. My brothers-in-arms await my return. The Immovable King has many enemies, and as his subordinate, I must keep always seeing eyes.”
Indeed, if that man was left to his devices there’d be no telling what would happen to Balandias. It would be best for someone to be nearby, holding his reins.
“Did you hear that, ephemeral world ruler?” Zaimon snapped. “My comrade has told me about his time wandering through another miniature world. But know that he was originally a resident of Balandias. Don’t try and leverage your former position to take advantage of his kind heart. As you just heard, he has clearly chosen Lord Kaltinas. Our lord has a far more illustrious and grand reputation than you. There’s no reason for Farris to go to an ephemeral world!”
It seemed the top student of the Tigrisfort Academy held Farris in high regard. I couldn’t imagine Kaltinas having a good reputation like he claimed, but if a world could deepen just by obtaining firedew, there might be something the residents had to gain from him regardless. It was possible he was a ruler that was hated by his enemies and loved by his people.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty...”
“What are you apologizing for?” I said. “As long as you’re following your heart, living freely in this sea, I have no objections. Though you have my pity for babysitting such a king.”
Farris bowed his head in silence before turning to walk away.
“Did you finish painting?” I asked.
He paused.
“The promised painting of peace,” I added.
“My brush has been broken,” he said slowly, looking at me over his shoulder. “I cannot paint anymore. Paintings cannot save anyone. I am not an artist, but the Silvercastle Creator of Balandias. I’ve discarded my brush and have taken up a castle sword. My current goal is to construct castles.”
“What kind of castle?”
“A strong castle. One that won’t fall to anyone or anything. I want to construct a strong and sublime castle in that world—even if it isn’t beautiful.”
He stared at me with a look I had never seen before—the look of a warrior.
“It may come as a surprise to you, but I have my own ambitions as well. Balandias taught me that,” Farris said in a soft but determined tone. “Your Majesty. I will never forget the days I served you. Meager as my abilities may be, I’ve led Balandias this far because I aimed for the Dilhade governed by the great Demon King. There is only one way I can repay you—and that is by showing you how much closer I’ve gotten to you at the Silverwater Ranking Skirmish tomorrow.”
“Very well. I’ll allow it. Come at me with all you’ve got.”
Farris bowed his head politely.
“I rather feel like I returned to the past just now,” he said pointedly, looking at the stack of stone cubes.
Zaimon, who had been watching in the distance, hurried back over to him. “What are you doing, Farris? We’re going back to the castle.”
“I was thinking of cleaning up the stones.”
“Leave such menial tasks for the others. Doing this out in the open affects Balandias’s reputation in front of the other schools. You’re our Silvercastle Creator.” Zaimon patted Farris on the shoulder, urging him to move.
“If it’s a matter of reputation, shouldn’t you be giving your Immovable King words of advice too?” Farris pointed out.
“You sure don’t hold back. But at the same time, you are far too courteous to those who are below you—the silver seas will take everything from you like that.”
“I’m not worried. I have reliable comrades.”
Zaimon fell silent for a moment. “You could take the top student position from me at any time, you know.”
“Such a position does not suit me.”
“You just voiced your ambitions. I heard it.”
“Supporting others can also be an ambition.”
“Enough. Let’s go. The Silverwater Ranking Skirmish is tomorrow.”
The two left the garden.
“Is it okay to let them go?” Sasha asked me.
“Everyone is allowed to have a change of heart. If he has somewhere he wants to be, so be it.”
“Anos,” Misha said. She called me over to the spot where Farris had been carving stones earlier. “Look. Something was drawn here.”
She pointed at the ground with a dainty finger, where scratch marks had been left.
“Hmm. I don’t know how far back I can rewind in this miniature world, but I’ll give it a go,” I said.
I used Rivide on the ground. The scratch marks faded, revealing lines that were carved into the ground with a stick.
“What’s that?” Sasha asked, peering over Misha’s shoulder. To her, they probably seemed to be just a series of straight lines. Half of it was still scratched out too.
“I can’t rewind it any further, but it was probably this.”
I picked up a nearby stick and completed the lines. The resulting image was a branch with no leaves—an abstract picture. The trunk and branches split off endlessly.
“Huh? Isn’t this a fasima tree?” Sasha asked.
“It’s the Fasima Groves,” Shin answered. “That was all he drew two thousand years ago.”
I stared at the picture for a long moment.
“I guess a broken brush couldn’t stop him from doodling—”
The Fasima Groves absorbed toxins and purified air. Farris’s paintings of them had been wishes for the war that plagued the world to be purified into a peaceful era. He had drawn them constantly, all the while hoping for a day when he didn’t have to draw them anymore.
And yet he was still drawing them now, in the garden of Pablohetra, where there were no fasima trees to be seen.
“—but I’m more interested in the reason for his ambitions.” I looked over at Eldmed.
“Bwa ha ha. You can leave things here to me. Something smells interesting,” he said.
I nodded. “Shin, Misa, you come with me.”
“Understood.”
“Huh? Me too? Okay!”
The others resumed taking Ottolulu’s tour while Shin, Misa, and I snuck out after Farris.