The thought of disseminating what he knew only passed by briefly. The word of a pauper held no weight in their society. If Roa wanted to be heard, then his voice needed to be overwhelmingly resounding. In that case, there was only one thing to do.

“I’m going to become a Bearer.” Roa said, wearing a smile. 

A Sigil Bearer to be precise, as within the context of the Waylurne Continent, the word Sigil contained a particular meaning.

A mark of utmost brilliance; a Sigil symbolized status, strength, wisdom, knowledge—whether in magic or with the use of aura, those who were called ‘Bearers’ became revered figures across the entire continent, being guaranteed a seat amongst Waylurne’s Fifteen Stars. 

Among voices loud enough to resound across the continent, there were none louder than theirs.

Wondering how she would react to what he said, Roa stared unblinking at Ariene. It was as he expected, she had her brow furrowed deep in pure disbelief.

“You brought me here to tell a bad joke?” she replied with crossed arms.

Anyone would say the same thing. Who was he to declare that he would become a Bearer? Never had they expected that a kid from the slums would dream so big. Morrow, Yuria, and even the few customers around the tavern were quieted by the words he let out.

“I’m serious.” But then again, who was Roa? The past-future 15th, Seat of Antares, one of Waylurne’s Fifteen Stars. He had already been a Bearer before! —Although, only he was aware of that fact.

Roa’s eyes were clear of any signs of a youth’s hubris. For a moment, everyone felt themselves pulled in by the confidence he exuded, but at the sight of the gray tie loosely wound around his neck, all tension was blown away, and the tavern started to slowly fill with laughter.

The taverner, Morrow heartily guffawed. It was a reaction Roa expected of him, and knew that the burly man’s laughter contained no malice.

Surprisingly, for someone who barely knew Roa, potato sack Yuria was giving him a sad look of encouragement, similar to the look you would show to a kid saying he wanted to grow up to become the king’s horse.

Only the woodland’s princess, Ariene, wore an unchanged, doubtful expression. She said, “—Lofty aspirations. You’re free to dream. But you should know, you don’t just become a Bearer.”

What Ariene said was the truth. So far, there hadn’t been a change in ownership of the Sigils for over two decades. Ownership of a Sigil only transferred in the case of inheritance or death. —However! Roa was privy of the knowledge that in the near future, the current state of affairs would experience an upheaval.

One after the other, Waylurne’s stars would fall from the sky; Sigils would disperse and fly back to the temples that housed them; and for one in particular—the temple for the Sigil of Antares—Roa would get his chance then.

Roa shrugged his shoulders, “Hm. Just maybe, one of them might retire soon, you know?”

Ariene lightly scoffed, and continued, “I don’t get it, why are you telling us this? What do your ambitions have to do with me?”

Roa took a deep breath before stating, “A party. I’m going to form an official one. One that would continue operating even after graduating from the academy. —I want you to be in it. Ariene Diadora, be my companion.”

Ariene was quiet, she wasn’t quite sure about what he said. But as she was mulling it over, “Lad,” Morrow rubbed his chin and whistled, impressed at Roa’s daringness. ”Are you asking the little lass to elope?” Morrow smirked. Roa’s intent seemed to had given the subtle notion that he wanted to steal the Seed of Fire away from Forest Riviera. 

“!?” ‘What was this nonsense that the taverner was spouting? Completely incomprehensible!’ Ariene glared daggers at the two before turning around towards the door. She huffed with a slight blush, “I’m leaving, thanks for the food.”

Disregarding the comment—A Party? A group of people closely tied together by either common goals, beliefs or interests. Even if Ariene wanted to, she couldn’t. She was Forest Riviera’s cursed princess, the Seed of Fire. The elders wouldn't have it if she went off on her own. Her fate was inevitably tied down to the woodlands. 

Roa didn’t stop her from walking away. Not only was he aware of Ariene’s circumstances, but also of what she hid within her heart. He breathed deeply once more before shouting words which would bring his party’s ideals closer to Ariene’s.

“Won’t it be great to be unrestrained by the fetters of any kingdom? Free to roam the world as we please? With comrades who live and breathe together? Doesn’t that sound enticing!?”

Roa’s voice echoed past the walls of the tavern and made it to Ariene who stopped just outside the entrance. Like tinder to a smothered flame, his words ignited a certain longing she had always buried deep inside.

In a voice only she could hear, she muttered before taking her leave, “Roa Fariche… I’ll think about it.”

Roa watched the doors of the tavern as they closed. He didn’t stop Ariene from leaving, nor did he chase after her. He only wore his usual dumb smile.

‘I’m only a thief after all…’ he thought back to the time when he had fallen to his lowest, and Ariene approached him beside a campfire with a proposition. 

Roa knew he wasn’t eloquent, he didn’t know how to speak big words. 

He was only a thief. So the words he had spoken to Ariene…

“How could your own words not convince you?” he muttered, leaning back on his chair and gazing up with reminiscence at the tavern’s wooden boards.