The Wind Mage

Which of course, then poses a problem when a great majority of the student (and teaching, which was arguably worse) body is talking about dreams that they both not only remember, but share with others. And, naturally, those who put stock in them, who now spent their time gossiping about their dreams and who they shared it with would eventually muddy the waters of genuine truth with rumors until the two were inseparable.

And of course, due to that fact, Elrean ignored any and all information about said dreams as inaccurate at best, purposefully misleading at worst. Any concerns brought to him were dismissed, and any talk waved aside.

Elrean did have a tendency to make choices that would bite him back.

And now he was trapped in a dream of his own, complete with a library of books he had never seen before, a never ending rise of staircases that he had already partially ascended. 

The twisting architecture was already a headache, with how they wove amongst each other to floors that were distinct and not at the same time. So, having enough of all that, he found one unobtrusive enough to try and read the books upon the shelves… and found that many of them were filled with nothing but nonsensical sequences of letters, only occasionally even forming readable words.

Still, he tries his best to find any rhyme or reason to the information he is given… until he hears a voice call out.

A very familiar voice.

One that made him look up instinctively, casting a glance over his shoulder, a motion that he would deny vehemently given that no one had caught him making it. A scowl forms second, upon seeing no one there.

"Cut me some slack, this place is a mess," he says with a (this time appropriately quieter) chuckle. "And you blend in here a bit better than I do. Well—" he continues, glancing around briefly— "normally I'd say it's good to see you, but I guess that if we're both stuck in a nonsensical location, then I guess it's one of those troublesome dreams, huh? And if what people have been saying is true, then we might be trapped here until we figure it out. Allegedly, anyway."

By Naga, he wishes sleeping wasn't required for the human body to function. Not only would he have more time to study, but also this wouldn't happen.

"I've looked at a few books, but they're either in unfamiliar languages or just gibberish. I haven't had a chance to try going up or down yet, but this place seems endless."

He pauses, thinking, before something catches his attention. He walks past Elrean and towards a window - the first window he has found in this library. The sight that greets him is... not particularly comforting - a mild description for a dark sky colored with a crimson hue, a full moon in spite of a complete lack of stars, and a few dark clouds, which remain fixed in place and unmoving.

"... I think time might be frozen here," he observes. Well, if anything, that makes it all the less likely for waiting until they wake up to work as a solution.

When the reports of troublesome dreams first came about and became frequent enough that they could no longer pass for a coincidence and had to be taken seriously, the monastery's priests and mages alike began quickly to investigate the possible roots of the problem. However they could, anyway. They tried their best, from the reports Merric had read - even in spite of having just about nothing to go off of.

For his part, he did not join the investigation right away, but eventually got roped into it as time passed and little to no progress was being made. A few options got ruled out early, but it soon became clear that finding out what this wasn't would be much easier than determining what it was, and so, their hope would be that a foreigner with experiences and knowledge Fódlan natives could not have would be able to find some leads.

Unfortunately, so far he has not been able to offer much help. After another fruitless day of researching, he had a naive, perhaps even foolish thought: Maybe if I could see the dream from the inside, I could figure something out.

Turns out, one should be careful about what one asks for.

When he next comes to, a seemingly unending forest path stretches out before him. Confused, he walks forward for a while, until he comes to the realization that nothing at all changes around him as he does so, as if the path and the trees around it repeat forever. Wincing as he understands the situation he might be in, he turns around - and freezes on the spot, eyes widening at the sight of a purple-haired young lady standing right behind him.

Dreams can be fickle things - inspiring and wondrous, or strange and unsettling. Oftentimes what you run into in slumber is a reflection of your experiences in reality, and may serve as a sign of sorts on what you may want to change about your life.

At least, that's what they say. Merric for his part has had his share of both wonderful and troublesome dreams, and he also knows that certain types of magic spirits may also use them as a means of communication, to try and convey whatever message they wish. They can certainly get one thinking about or rethinking certain matters. Still, he remains a believer that one should not forget to first and foremost rely on themselves, rather than wait on signs from higher powers. Listen, consider, and accommodate - but do not follow blindly. Even a well-meaning spirit can lead you astray.

... None of which changes the fact that, when entire groups of random people start to all experience the same dream at once, he's going to find it suspicious and weird. Fódlan does not commune with spirits on the daily the way he does back home, nor has he sensed anything particularly unusual recently - so that feels exceedingly unlikely. Many begin to whisper of Dark magic, and while it's certainly possible, Merric has his doubts - and he soon notices that this ungrounded accusation has quickly distracted many people, grinding any investigation to a halt.

Unfortunately, however he wants, it seems like he won't be able to contribute further to it for a while, for a simple reason...

He may have gotten stuck in one of those himself.

At least, that's the only conclusion he can draw when he walks out of his room to find a sprawling, messy web of staircases in what looks like the largest and most twisted library he has ever been to, with no floor or ceiling to be seen, no matter how hard he tries to peer either up or down.

Stone steps echo beneath his feet as he walks forward slowly, looking around in amazement.

At the other mage's question, he nods. Any tomes and staves he carried on his person have vanished into thin air. Or rather, they ended up in the hands of a thief —— the very same fate that has befallen Merric's important tome. "Ah, yes, but it was nothing quite as valuable as yours..."

That said, Lyon would rather not replace his missing items. But without a tome to defend himself with, what is he supposed to do? What can he even do? Fight with his bare hands? No, he has never been much of a fighter. Violence doesn't excite him, and he is far more likely to injure himself than give anyone a black eye.

Besides, those bandits will have weapons.

But it's not like they can leave empty-handed...!

"Tracking them down is our best course of action at this moment," he says after a moment's consideration. "It's risky, I know, and I wouldn't normally suggest this, but... While we could get reinforcements from the Knights, their presence might only alert the bandits."

Undoubtedly, those bandits are prepared to abandon their current hideout.

He sighs. "I'm afraid you're right - leaving to get the Knights gives those bandits both a good reason to escape, and plenty of time to do so. However we can, we might have to handle this ourselves..." He winces. "Though I admit I am no good at hand to hand combat."

He retrieves a dagger he keeps by his side, holding it up for Lyon to see. "All I have left is this. It's better than my fists, I suppose - I think if I tried to punch a big guy, I'd just break my hand instead... But it still requires getting in close quarters. My oh my, this will be dangerous... I'm really sorry for roping you into this."

He sighs, resigned, before closing his eyes and focusing. Immediately, he can sense it with his magical resonance - a trail of Wind aura left behind by Excalibur, combined with a faint pulse of another type, undoubtedly from Lyon's tome. For what it's worth, it's still a fresh track - but it won't be long before it dissipates.

When they entered the manor itself, the first thing that caught Ewan’s eye was how dimly lit the entire place was. Heavy curtains blocked out most of the sunlight filtering through the windows, instead having the room illuminated by rather moody candlelight. Standing atop the staircase, which was made of sturdy, polished wood and decorated with a marvelous red carpet, stood the lady of the manor. She watched them, her gaze kind yet blue eyes sharp.

Cherry colored lips curled into a small smile, as she greeted her guests. “Ah, you two must be the mages sent by the academy to take on my case, aren’t you?” She spoke, her voice light and melodic. Despite the apparent drastic state of affairs, she tried her best to be a good hostess.“My name is Vanessa von Blankheim. Our house is not a major one, so I am grateful for the Church’s assistance. Welcome to my humble home.”

….The little mage couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about this lady felt… strange. She was pretty though, so maybe he was overthinking things? He watched as she took delicate steps down the stairs, wanting to greet the two personally. First her crystal blue eyes looked over Merric. From the subtle way her lips curled up further, clearly something she saw pleased her. Ewan couldn’t say the same as she looked him over though. If anything, it seemed as if she was holding back a sneer.

“May I take your coats, good sirs?”

With his focus being on the lady, he did not expect to suddenly hear a man’s voice behind him. “Eek!” He let out a small squeak, clinging onto Merric’s arm for dear life. Vanessa only looked lightly amused at the display, placing a well manicured hand on her lips. “Ho ho ho.. not to worry, little one. That’s only the family servant.”

The man was old, with a saggy, wrinkled face and a big grey mustache contrasting the exquisitely fancy uniform he was wearing. “Bernard Utler’s the name, good sirs. A pleasure.” He spoke curtly. Ewan looked to Merric. He’d only give his coat if the professor would too.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, milady. I am Merric, Professor of Magic Arts at the Officers Academy. This is Ewan, one of our students, who will be assisting me. We hope we can be of help to you."

When the butler approached, Merric handed his coat over, knowing Ewan was waiting for his reaction. Of course, prior to their arrival, he had made sure that no magic-related items had been left in the pockets. Hopefully Ewan remembered to ensure the same, just as he had said to do earlier.

However much Merric dislikes to suspect and expect evil from others, too many unpleasant events of the last few years have taken place for him to not know to watch his back at this point. There exists a line between hope and faith, and stupidity that would lead him - and the student he is watching over - into a trap. Having been the victim of many plots and schemes, he knows this a bit too well nowadays.

Therefore, in response to invitation to lunch, Merric smiles and lightly shakes his head. "It's alright, milady. The journey was not that long - and besides, I must apologize, but both Ewan and I do not eat meat." Whether this holds true for the student, the Altean actually doesn't know. However, between the confidence in his voice and the hint of disappointment in Lady Vanessa's eyes that she fails to completely conceal, he trusts the young man to get the hint. Still - when refusing to fall into a trap, offer a middle ground to avoid redirecting suspicion towards yourself. "If we could, perhaps, get a cup of tea for the chat, that would be more than enough."

The polite smile returns to their host's face full force. "Oh - of course, naturally. Bernard, see to it, please." The butler nods as he walks away with their coats. Mentally, Merric memorizes the direction of his steps.

The pup chews harder on his hair. Ryoma sighs, and pulls his hair free. The wolf wriggles and tries to bite more hair. “Enough of that, you,” he says, holding the puppy away from his hair. Its tail wags. He can’t stay mad.

“Too extra, hm?” Ryoma says. “I would argue too dangerous - but I can’t decide if it’s more dangerous for us or for the wolves.” The puppy snaps its little jaw. Vicious little thing, yet he’d still hold it close to him like it won’t kill him at the first chance. “Do people truly ride on wolves, or are they only planning on riding them?” This academy is indeed a strange place.

"Heh. They're a handful, aren't they? Reminds me of one time when I was helping out with baby pegasi, and one of them tried to eat my hair," he chuckles, not hiding his amusement now that he is speaking about himself. "I can only imagine what the poor guy mistook it for."

Merric walks over to some supplies and equipment hanging on the wall. After retrieving a brush, he returns, sits down on the floor and pulls one of the pups towards himself in order to brush it.

"Well, I've seen that among the certificates the Academy lists is indeed one listed as Wolf Knight," he explains, doing his best to ignore the animal's playful protests against his actions. "So I take it to mean they do indeed ride on those. These aren't normal wolves - they grow to be much bigger, big enough to ride on. But as long as they receive proper training, it's also said that they are very obedient and intelligent, and easy to work with," he finishes, his tone becoming a hint more flat there, making it clear he was merely reciting what he had read about them.

Said flatness is then broken by a "Hey!" when the pup begins to chew on the brush's handle - and his hand in the process. He raises his arm to bring them out of the animal's range, and it sits flat on its butt in front of him, as though waiting for a treat. The display elicits laughter from the Sage anew as he throws Ryoma an amused glance.

"One day, they'll get there. Hopefully."

erk nods -- thinking to himself, without an open library, i have nothing but spare moments -- and steps into the room, trying to keep his pace from seeming too eager. assessing the job before him, he sweeps his eyes over the mountains and mountains of tomes. someone with his courseload should balk, or at least think twice, about the sheer amount of time it will take to go through it all ---- but instead, he feels only excitement. perhaps there is even a flare of jealousy.

his thoughts leak through his lips before he can stop them: "my, you have so many!" instantly, he is embarrassed, lifting his fingers to his mouth. "er- excuse me. of course, it makes sense that you would have a big collection of books. i'm just so impressed. it outdoes my own, by far. it might even rival my master's." or... does the messy nature of it only provide an illusion of vastness? tidy shelves do take up less space... bah, it's not a question worth pursuing. what is worth pursuing is that library title.

despite that overwhelming worthiness, his mind wanders. it strays further and further from his goal with every cover that fails to be dark-red-with-golden-ornaments. right now, it would seem that all colours and decorations are accounted for except that combination. when something finally does catch his attention, it is nearly the complete opposite of what he wants: a thin volume (its accompanying set nowhere to be seen, of course), with a faded blue front and a title in silver, ornate lettering, the likes of which he has never seen. feeling inexplicably drawn to its novelty, erk lets his finger traces the textured font, until...

“Without getting into details, my homeland went through two wars in quick succession, both of which ended up engulfing the entire continent - including the magic school and sanctuary, which suffered severe damage. Many of the tomes you see here would have been destroyed and lost for good had I, my teacher and my friends not saved them.” Oh, is that it?… Nope. “The school is still recovering from the destruction inflicted upon it. Once it’s ready, I intend to return many of those books to its library. But for now, they’re with me for safekeeping.” He gestures lightly towards his desk and the visible work in progress laid out on it. “I’ve also been copying some of them, so that there can be more than one out there.”

One pile looked through with no success, he turns his attention to the next. After a few moments, he rises back up from a crouched position and stretches his back with a sigh. In that same moment, he looks at Erk just as the student speaks, and takes note of the book in his hands. He smiles.

"Ah. The Art of Fire, Part 3... Another one I saved from Khadein. I was reading it again recently, and it seems like I did not put it back." He walks over to the bookshelf right next to him, and from it, he retrieves two other books, identical to the one Erk found at a first glance. "It's a very good read. I was going to take my time with this series, but I ended up forgetting about time and running through all three in one day," he admits with a chuckle, before smiling at the youth.

"I am sorry to hear of that hardship," she says softly. Her now interlaced fingers fall to her sides and skirt the ends of her hair. "There is never any telling what the future might hold. But.. I'm glad you told me this. And I am just as happy to share the interest. While I am unable to see his demonstrations, I enjoy seeing yours." Céline's eyes flicker towards the blue hues in the sky, sauntering towards a stray cloud. Brief, snapping away at her words: "—May I say something, Professor? It was a thought I had just now, hearing you speak."

Her straight-lined lips form to match those around her, even if only slight. "I worry of similar things, myself. That.. In the wake of uncertainties, only a mantle remains. But I am not going to turn away from anything. Even so, you speak this story to me fondly. I wish I could have met your student. To pass that tale along is a wonderful thing. I should like to do the same, one day." She is content waiting for the proper opportunity— It gives her another lesson she can add to her growing journey. Céline offers a nod in agreement

“I believe that ensuring the world is a better place after the strife has ended than it was before is the obligation left to those who remain by those who were lost. If those deaths had to happen, then that is at least how we ensure they were not in vain. Whether it’s about establishing new countries, systems and all this kind of stuff…” He takes a pause, taken by surprise by a loud popping noise, followed by sudden burst of laughter nearby. Turning, he chuckles at the sight of colorful sparks slowly dissipating amidst the clapping and laughing of children; a remnant of a fireworks show that he just missed.

“… Or teaching magic tricks to new generations in place of warfare,” he finishes his previous thought, before looking back to Céline.

“I believe those students gathered here are moving in the right direction, if you ask me. They have the spirit to show their best side, and from what I can see, the skills to back it up, too.” He nods, both to himself and to her, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Fódlan’s peace is not entirely stable yet, and so they have no choice - they must continue to practice magic for the purpose of combat, as well. So I think that opportunities to take breaks and indulge in some entertainment like this are sure to do them good.”

The students, seemingly noticing that he turned his attention to them, wave towards him and Céline with cheerful smiles, one guy shooting them a thumbs up; with a quiet laugh, Merric returns the gesture before forming another bird-shaped spirit from Wind magic and sending it towards them, much to their entertainment. It circles everyone before flying off, at which point one girl hits it with Fire, causing it to leave a trail of colorful embers in its wake. Another burst of excited laughter erupts among the children.

With a humored huff, the Altean looks back to Céline, the previous cheer now back in his eyes full force.

“Yep, I think they’ll do well.”

But for the likes of Sir Ogma, Cain, Abel, the Wolfguard, or even the new recruits from the Platoon? The sword and spear were their calling, the purpose to which they had been taught, and though peace is a wonderful thing and the Altean stands by that, it has now been taken away from them.

Do the people who fight for peace fear it sometimes? He wonders.

Lady Camilla offers him an answer in the end, and confirms some, perhaps, of his thoughts - as well as the foolish nature of others. As the question is reflected his way, Merric nods. “When I return home, I plan to help Lord Marth with the reconstruction - but I also wish to open a magic school in our capital. Altea is… well, magic is not popular there, and as a result, many fear it, while those who have a talent for it cannot freely practice it. I want to change that - after all, magic is a wonderful thing that can do far more than just kill.”

He then gives her a warm smile.

It's been a while since they did much more than killing.

Camilla stretches out the ache in her back that settled in during their talk. She muses over his words, wondering if she really could find a new calling in teaching. She finally had a tomorrow to look forward to to try it.

"Haha. If I have a chance to travel to Nohr and offer any help, I would be more than happy to." A small pause, as he offers her a warm smile. "I mean that, by the way. If I can assist your home in restoring peace and learning to experience it again, I'll do my best to find an opportunity to do so."

It is tragic, he thinks, when a nation has not known peace for such a long time that, once they regain it, they must re-learn it all over again. It would be a most worthwhile effort to assist in, if a chance were to present itself.

But that is a question for another time. Right now, they have aspiring youths to train. Merric laughs as Camilla voices her tease; even though he recognizes the joke, there is still a small hint of instinctive nervousness in his voice as he does.

"Haha, please don't."

with a clean hand against merric’s back, morion ushers his fellow professor towards the front of the crowd. students brandish weapons of all sorts with vigor, some narrowly missing their cohorts in their attempts to violently dismember a piece of fruit. " see how they’re all utter shit at it? " morion is already squinting at the mishandled steel, clearly more bothered by how they’re held rather than how they’re all dangers to themselves and others. " they’re not usin’ their bodies to support their swings. it’s all power but no stability; one of these idiots’re gonna swing themselves off the table. you wanna see a real swordhandler at work? then watch this. "

morion stomps up on the cafeteria table where some of the students are, grabbing a particular boy’s sword right on the blade to stop him from chopping into another student behind him. " off the table and i won’t auto-flunk you outta my class, " he hisses. one less student on the table later, morion grabs a watermelon from the fruit box and holds it up to the crowd. the sea of people have stilled, all eyes on the big red master.

" all you idiots keep forgettin’ the number one rule of swords, " morion barks, throwing the watermelon up so hard it almost splats against the ceiling. he cranks his sword arm back and juts a foot behind him. " when you swing,

" you’ve ALWAYS gotta counterbalance!! "

This small episode of secondhand embarrassment is quickly replaced however, first with shock as he watches the watermelon nearly slam into the ceiling, and then amazement as the fruit is split clean in half. Juice splashes all over the place, including both Morion’s face and the clothes of several onlookers, Merric included; the halves are caught by the excited students, and cheering and applause erupts among the crowd. Even the previously soulless cleaning lady seems to have made big eyes at the display, though her expression is still far from anything that could be remotely considered praise.

Rubbing the sticky stuff off his arms, Merric freezes briefly as Morion suggests he give it a try next. “I-I-I don’t think so,” he says with a chuckle, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I’m no sword user, I’ll mess it up…”

But making excuses tends to not work well when attention is drawn to you in a crowd of enthusiastic students having fun. Before he is even done talking, the Altean finds himself encouraged and cheered on from all sides (though he can tell that seeing him succeed will be just as fun to some as seeing him fail will be to others) and very soon, he realizes that this was never really a choice he had.

And, unfortunately for him, he has never been all that good at arguing his case.

So, with a quiet sigh, he gives up. “Alright… but something smaller than a watermelon, please. It’s probably going to land on my head.”

The “something smaller” he is handed ends up being a grapefruit. Probably still going to hurt once it smacks him in the forehead, but better than a watermelon. Pulling out a light sword, he winces - both in concentration, and as a sort of why am I doing this reaction, then throws the fruit into the air…

and as it comes down, he makes a half-blind slash, trying his best to remember Morion’s words about counterbalancing, but otherwise simply hoping for the best.

To his surprise, the smack to the head never comes. A second passes before he realizes that the grapefruit is in front of him, in two pieces held by two students who caught them. The dining hall erupts into cheers anew.

As he meets Morion’s eyes, Merric laughs, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he does.

To Professor Merric,

Hello! Yeah, you’d unfortunately be right about the class thing, I haven’t gone to any you’ve taught as far as I remember. There’s just so many teachers and only one me, you know? I mean, I tried a bit of teacher-hopping in the beginning, but that just ended up being confusing with all the teachers being at different points and all. So it’s nothing personal!

It’s super cool you used to be a student, though! That’s gotta That has to be a super big change, right? Though maybe not really, since you were already here and didn’t have to move or anything. Was it more of a big or a small change? Medium? I wouldn’t know, obviously. Probably for the best. I don’t think I’m teacher material. 

What’s being a teacher like anyway? Like, I know you teach obviously, but how do you know what to teach? Or how to teach it with everyone being so different and stuff? It sounds hard. Which is weird because it doesn’t look hard? Either way, I bet you’re good at it!

Camilla really does seem to know all the staff, huh? I hope she said good things about me and none of the embarrassing stuff! Camilla’s the best :). Siblings in general are, if you ask me! I’m sorry to hear you don’t have any. I can’t imagine what that would be like. I’m sure being an only child must be just as great though! In a different way.

Lo From I look forward to hearing from you!

Thank you for your reply. I don’t doubt that the Academy provides you with many chances to learn from a number of talented Professors - too many, as it may sometimes feel. Not that variety and high quality are bad things, heavens no! But you can have the impression that even if you spend an eternity in this place, you will still not learn everything you would want.

I know the feeling for sure, having studied here for quite a while. To this day, when I find myself with some spare time, I attend the seminars of other Professors to broaden my horizons.

If you’re curious about the experience of going from student to Professor… Well, it certainly was a little funny to go from sitting alongside my friends and our textbooks, to standing on the other side of the room and having to be all serious and respectable towards them. Still, I’m not a very stiff and official person overall - in that aspect, little has changed.

(On that note, you really do not need to worry about writing to me in casual language! On the contrary, I’d be happiest if you could feel comfortable doing that. I apologize if I make my letters sound too formal - I tend to do that sometimes in writing.)

Teaching, to me, is largely about thinking what I want my students to get out of my lectures. I have my specialty, magic, and then wonder: what exactly do I want them to know about magic? And the answer is that, well… This is a military school, so naturally I have to teach about using magic for combat as well, but a lot of my focus has been on using it outside of battle. Did you know that skilled Mages can use Fire and Ice magic to purify polluted water, for example? I’ve always wanted to see magic used for more than just killing people, so that’s what I try to convey.

We haven’t had that many chances to speak in length, but Camilla has mentioned you to be a loving little sister for whom she wished nothing but happiness, as she did for all her siblings. I doubt that’s something to be embarrassed about! I think it’s wonderful. As for myself… To be honest, I spent little time at home. As a child I was appointed as a playmate for my homeland’s prince and princess, and spent most of my time with them; and then, when I was 7, I left for the Khadein school of magic. So in truth, I haven’t really felt any sort of loneliness due to not having siblings. I was hardly ever alone!

Still, that’s never the same as having siblings. If you’d like to share any stories or experiences, I’d love to read about it! And of course, feel free to ask or talk about anything else you may want.

I look forward to your reply!

Artist: BISAI

Even so, she is aware of the importance that knowing how to use it in a fight offers; if necessary, while not preferred. Céline's head bobs with a small sway: "Knowledge on how to use magic both on and off the battlefield is a vital skill to have, I must think. It is as you have said.. I believe it speaks highly of one's character."

Her eyes follow as the bird of her professor moves towards the children and echoes pure friendliness. It flutters and dances; sings a song she needs not hear. If she were a child among them, she can imagine how excited she may have been. While she believes she has a grasp on magic, the way in which Professor Merric uses his abilities is one in which she feels she must learn from.

"That is most wonderful. Look at the smiles on their faces," she says calmly. They are left with a giddy expression she cannot match— A want for more. "I would certainly like to try my hand at such activities..! Both for myself and them." When she thinks of their eagerness, she sees their innocent smiles etched in her mind. If she can help it, she would like to add to that just a tad bit further. As a memory.

In any case, the young lady’s question brings his attention back to her. “Oh, the glass trick, you mean? Well, it does take a bit more setup - you need sand, limestone and some other minerals, and then by applying high temperature via the Fire spell, you can melt them and create glass. The student I remember - he would sometimes open a little booth where he had all materials prepared, and there, he would hold demonstrations, as well as create glass items, baubles and whatnot upon request.” He smiles at the memory of watching him at work on a few occasions. “As his studies progressed, he became more and more skilled, and he could create more and more complicated and beautiful things.”

In that moment, his smile grows a hint sad as he looks off to the distance and falls silent for a moment, before finishing the story in a way truthful, but unwanted.

“He could have become a great artisan… had the war not claimed him.” He shakes his head, turning to Céline again. “It’s especially stories like his that remind me how pointless and harmful wars are, and how important it is to cherish peace.”