“What's your name?” The guards eyes were still and hard like granite as Aderyn's mind flipped through pages of Idarus' history books.

“Ardesheer,” he said. He kept his lips tight. The guard closed his eyes and smirked.

“Yeah? And your brother?”

“Delïr.” Dryston stood still, his wide eyes fixed on the musket, glimmering in the afternoon sun. Aderyn stared still into the granite eyes.

“Ardesheer and Delir, huh? You sure don't look like an Ardesheer. Or a Delïr.” The trees rustled outside. "But what do I know." He spit on the ground. His saliva sank into the wood. "So where's your pops?" the guard asked. "Ardesheer," he added smiling.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“I dunno, out somewhere.”

Birds chirped happily as the trees rustled. The birds did not care. The birds do not ever care.

“That so,” the guard repeated. He stared for a moment, then marched toward the door, his uniform clacking. Aderyn noticed the curves and curls etched into his coppered armor and the row of red tassels that hung just below his breastplate. Aderyn felt felt a light breeze as the guard passed him, continuing out through the threshold and into wheat field.