Blessings of Today

There are days that Derrick wakes up, expecting an endless dark sky above him and only crackles of lightning to mark the passage of time.

That's all he needs to know what the shape of his day will be.

.

On days like these, he gets ready and goes to buy something from the nearby bakery.

"Good morning, Derrick!" Leon greets Derrick as he opens the door into the bakery, and Derrick parrots it.

Leon is a tall bearded man, who used to be a member of the scout teams back in the Forsaken Land. After coming to the outside world, a good number of people took up jobs related to food, awed by the variety they were seeing for the first time, and he was one of them.

"I'll pack your usual?"

Derrick doesn't even have to say what he wants. He frequents this bakery often enough that Leon knows what he'll buy at this time of the day.

"Yes, please."

When he exits, it's with a little bag of marzipan-glazed fruitcake slices. He eats one as he walks and savours each ingredient he can taste, all of it coated in almond-infused sweetness. The cake is soft and rich and nothing like the Black Faced Grass they used to make their food with.

Images flash in his mind, of grinding powder for cooking, of hunting for food during missions, and his throat clogs. Still he continues to eat.

This isn't that time anymore, we won't go back to that ever again...

He reminds himself of it over and over, until it's only the present in his eyes again.

A quick glance at his pocket watch tells him there are twenty more minutes left before he has to be at the Church. Unlike other days, he doesn't go early.

Instead, stopping under the shade of a group of trees, he watches the city come to life.

Under the warm glow of sunlight, people hurry for work, none of them dressed in the combat suits so commonly seen in Derrick's memory. Only those of the mercenary company wear that nowadays.

There are groups of children in the crowd as well, heading to the day school. They chat and laugh along the way and their high voices add another tone to the bustle of the city. They are the new generation, those who will only hear the tales of a time from their parents and never know it for themselves.

No one will be forced to wield a sword here. They will never have to plunge it into a loved one's heart—

Derrick's next bite of cake has a tinge of saltiness, and he quickly wipes at his face.

He doesn't want to ever forget all the sacrifices that were made for this moment, but it's not the children who should have to remember each name. It's enough for them to live in happiness and safety. Maybe in a few centuries, there will even be those who can't believe such a history was possible, but that will only be a mark of how far they've all come.

He hopes for that.

.

There are always matters to deal with at The Fool's Cathedral, as newly established as they are. Leaving aside missions, they're still ironing out issues with their Beyonder teams, Sealed Artifact research and the like. Although the City of Silver and the Moon City had their own ways of dealing with such matters, now they have to conform to the common methods of other Churches.

Usually, whenever Derrick gets a break, he likes to head to the main hall. While watching the mass of believers and listening to the sermons of the bishops, he might even find something to improve upon in their Church's workings.

But on days like these, he sets up the altar in his own office.

He knows it so well as to complete it blindfolded. Three candles, two for the deity and one for himself. The symbol of the Fool carved by his own hand, and a sprinkle of essence.

The wicks light up through his spirituality and he takes in a deep breath, remembering in that instance the Chief and Elder Lovia, everyone he's lost one by one, till his parents. The solemnity bleeds out of him as he chants with his eyes closed—

"The Fool who doesn't belong to this era
The mysterious ruler above the gray fog
The king of yellow and black who wields good luck."

Mr. Fool, asleep and locked in battle, can only rarely respond to prayers, even that of the Tarot Club. But Derrick doesn't need a response.

"Thank you for your grace," he says in a choked voice. "Thank you for watching over us."

Please wake up and return.

Please never abandon us.

The flames enlarge and change hues. Derrick doesn't need to look to see the grey fog filling the space; he feels a comforting, enveloping warmth.

It fades in seconds, but it's more than enough to buoy him. He opens his eyes and smiles weakly, then presses his hand to his chest.

"Your people are safe and will never waver from their faith in you," he promises.

"Your mission is to protect the New City of Silver and New Moon City and protect the Rorsted Archipelago."

No matter what it demands from him, he'll carry out that task from Mr. Fool.

By the end of days like these, Derrick's resolve is only bolstered.