2404 Tull 20, Velpa
"No, I'm not giving you permission to enter," the Grand Marshal brought her hands together atop the table made of ice. The walls of the war room in the two hundred and second floor felt like they're converging upon Kennen as soon as the words left her mouth.
He stepped forward. "But, Mom—"
"Please refer to me as the Grand Marshal while I'm working," she said, stopping him effectively with a stern glare. "No amount of cajoling would sway me to grant you access. Why would you even want to go there? Are the archives not to your liking anymore?"
He would lose a challenge with his own tutor, most likely, but he couldn't say that aloud. In the end, he clasped his hands in front of him and bounced on the balls of his feet. He had never felt so silly standing alone with his mother inside an empty war room.
"If you don't have anything more to say, you can go," the Grand Marshal waved her hand in the air—a clear sign of dismissal. "And do tell your father about my decision if you are planning on asking his permission. We are of equal office, after all."
Kennen's gut sank as he ducked out of the two hundred and second floor. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Grand Marshal held a greater influence in the grand scheme of things compared to the Chieftain. He should have gone to his father first. What use was being their son if he couldn't even freely roam around his own home?
It just didn't make sense. Just like how Kennen didn't know much about the world above them, he didn't even know a lot about the only place he grew up in. It was the worst feeling to have, if he was to be asked. But then again, with his parents too caught up in their own work, there was no one who would.
Conceding to Lydin would sure suck.
His walk back to the upper levels was muted, like the world was joining him in his mourning. He didn't like one bit of it—the silence creeping into the dim corridors leading to the stairs curving higher and higher. It was expected when one visited the lowest floors but he still couldn't stomach it.
If there was anything he would want to have forever with him, it was the chatter, the bustle, and the background noise of people. It proved he wasn't entirely alone in this vast, lonely world and provided a distraction from his thoughts.
By the time he reached the fifty-second floor where Merko would usually wait for him, he felt at least a little bit better. Perhaps, Lydin was right. There might be something in the Hall of Symbols that wasn't meant for his eyes and knowledge. But...what was it? Just what kind of secrets did the Hall of Symbols contain?
Maybe he was too curious for his own sake. That's what's wrong with him. He would have been perfectly happy if he wasn't dying to know how trees could grow the interestingly-shaped and colored fruits he only saw in baskets down here. If he learned to swallow his outlandish questions and just attended his lectures as intended or helped his father run the capital, he wouldn't be in this mess.
A swish of beige robes and pale brown hair flashed in his periphery. He paused his walk and turned. Merko hurried past him like his friend hadn't even noticed him. "Hey!" Kennen called. Merko turned to him with a confused stare. "What's got you in a pace?"
His friend's smile was tight, straining against his lips like it physically pained him. "Oh, Ken," he gave a little wave. "I was just checking if Danda was still fine weaving."
Kennen raised an eyebrow as he closed the distance between him and his friend. "Why? Is she having trouble recently?" he asked.
Now that he thought about it, this was one of the rare times he and Merko had ever really talked in the past few days. There was always something happening with Merko whenever it was time for the both of them to go on their usual walk to Kennen's lecture halls. Lately, he noticed he had been doing it alone more.
Still, maybe Merko was really telling the truth regarding all those times. Things happen. There's no reason Kennen should hold it against him.
Merko rolled his shoulders. "Danda's fine," he rubbed the back of his head, bracing a hand on his hip. "I just wanted to be with her more to uh...spend some time with her."
"Oh," Kennen's eyes widened. "Is she sick?"
His friend shook his head. "She's good. Never better," he said. "She's just..."
Merko's voice died to a trailing halt. Kennen crossed his arms. "You could have told me the truth," he said. His friend's eyes flicked up to him. "You're avoiding me, aren't you?"
To his credit, Merko averted his gaze and seemed to find the bare blue walls intriguing. "It's not that—"
"Then what?" Kennen demanded. All around them, heads of passing ice sprites swiveled to see what commotion the two of them were stirring. At this point, Kennen couldn't care less. "Why go through the lengths you did?"
"I don't want to hurt your feelings," Merko admitted, clenching jaw for a second.
Kennen knitted his eyebrows. "Why would you hurt my feelings?" he said. "I don't understand."
Merko crossed his arms. "I've been selected as a forager," he said. "I'm going out really soon."
It felt like a huge chunk of ice tore off the wall and slapped Kennen in the gut. How much more of his life was going to suck? "That wasn't a valid reason to avoid me," Kennen narrowed his eyes. "You could have told me straight on. I don't like being left out without a word. I thought I did something wrong to upset you."
Merko didn't have a drop of guilt in his eyes. "I know how much you've wanted to be a forager," he said. "It didn't feel right to rub it in your face that I was asked to be one."
Kennen didn't fight the scoff that rose to his throat. "That's not rubbing it in my face. I could have celebrated with you or something," he blew a breath and pressed a hand against his forehead. Gods above, he was furious. He didn't even know why.
"We both know you wouldn't," Merko said quietly. His voice carried a hint of familiarity and conviction, like he believed what he was saying. "Don't dare deny it."
Kennen opened his mouth but closed it. When his next words flew out of his mouth, they dripped with acid. "Well, go and enjoy your life in the world above," he said. "I mean it."
Before his friend could speak, Kennen pushed past him, aiming for the stairs. That's just it. Once they have gotten permission to go outside, they would forget him. They would leave him. That's what happened to almost all the foragers he befriended over the years. All disappeared without a trace or wouldn't bother talking to him anymore. Did they all feel like Merko did whenever Kennen talked about his desire to see the rest of the island?
"Why don't you just ask your father to help you join?" Merko's voice called behind him. Props to him for still trying. "I'm sure he could provide a spot for you."
Kennen turned. When he attempted a laugh, it came out bitter. "They couldn't even allow me to enter certain floors in this place," he said, the memory of the Grand Marshal flaying his ego inside the war room. "I won't get a foot out of this fortress, I tell you."
With that, Kennen tackled the stairs but instead of going up, he went down. His brain screamed for his room so that's where his legs carried him. The wall shook as he slid it shut with a force he didn't know his magic could do.
That's when his reality came crashing over him. As he lay in his bed, only one thought flew in and out of his mind and ears. He wouldn't be getting out of here. Like his ancestors trapped in a system they couldn't escape. There's no way he'd be able to see the real sky.
It's time to say goodbye to one of his dreams. He didn't imagine it to be this painful.