Johnathan slept for 10 and ¾ hours in total until an hour before the afternoon. Jimothan continuously insisted on waking him up and going their way, but Kristine explained that he must be weak because a Demon’s natural Essence regeneration is noticeably slower than the other races because of the unique Demonian ability to absorb another (living) entity’s energy. This energy is an umbrella term that consists of various materials the victim sustains their body with, such as vitamins, water, blood, and most prominently, Essence, and so on.

The equanimous wait for Johnathan’s wake-up was spent mostly lazing around. After their snowball session at midnight, Jimothan fatuously refused to permit himself to encompass slumber, making ad hominem remarks regarding Kristine’s alleged skulduggery throughout.

Kristine, at one point, arbitrarily devised that she, too, must sleep. She borrowed some of Jonathan’s clothes, made him a makeshift pillow, then for herself. She didn’t have any extracurricular clothing to apply warmth to her body and opted to hope for the best with her already concealing garments.

She slept soundly when Jimothan dozed off a few times here and there, but overall, it was clear he was height deficient. The sleep deprivation marks under his eyes, illiteracy and incoherent speech were all overt identifications.

During the peak of Jimothan’s state of stupor, Kristine attempted to converse with him to get to know him better or to infer the root of his leeriness.

Apart from questions that have turned from a droplet of ink to an entire inkwell, she could not find any susceptive evidence whether her interrogation was inadequate, whether the interrogation would have eventuated higher success if she had been more truthful or if ‘her intentions would become too obvious’ if she pressed her interrogation further. 

She launched arrows towards random objects. First, it was the airborne snow she sought to hit. Thence, she attempted to ricochet the projectile snowfall. 

Such unrealistic, great expectations lead to drastic results. All she had done was shoot arrows arbitrarily and superfluously. This inane workflow was categorised as an exercise to justify how jejune it was.

In the fullness of time, they commenced their journey to the village of Yderemea. 

In a short time, whence they came was a mystery. Where they were going was east, according to Kristine’s guidance. Jimothan whined, Johnathan lulled him, and in due diligence, they found a path meticulously rid of snow.

The surroundings were still barren with snow as far as the eye could see. Howls could be heard distantly, as well as strange roars and bellows of other creatures queer to folk from Earth (which is to say, that is my prediction, not a fact). 

The path that contained no snow allowed one to fathom the soil underneath. This soil was colourless, however; it was unclear whether it was infertile or if it had not been utilised for long enough to be isolated from sustenance. Naturally, the surrounding nature was just as catatonic plant-wise. In terms of wildlife in general, stiff would not be a suitable adjective and neither would dull. Peculiarly, wildlife such as beasts, untamed or otherwise uncivilised animals, and other truculent phenomena lingered importunately even in such a harsh tundra biome.

Jimothan wore a brown trench coat along with the gloves he refused to take off. He wore a solid, pitch-black bow tie on his neck. The bow tie partially covers the white shirt underneath visible because he did not button the upmost button of his coat. He wore black ski pants underneath as he had planned to dress lightly, and the snowstorm the previous day had caught him by surprise. He had clodhoppers matching his trench coat. It did not have to be replaced because ‘luckily’ did not have to replace, as his coat and the aforementioned clodhoppers were suitable for frigid weather.

Johnathan was perhaps the most accommodated for the occasion. He wore a sweater with a square design and a tightly sealed winter coat. He had not worn the hood of the coat, instead a scarf of wool that was a gift of yore wrapped around his neck and a beanie knitted of wool he specifically requested for his journey as part of his preparations in the palace. To protect his hands from numbness, he wore gloves because he felt like a zombie from a lack of Essence in his body. Lavish ski pants decorated his legs as well as provide protection and his boots were as compact as can be.

Kristine had not had a change of clothes, for she possessed nothing of value with her because her journey west was meant to be a quick, silly journey she should have returned from by the night. She was adequately prepared for the natural challenges, yet bodily famine was her paramount perturbation.

About the evening, Jimothan started complaining again. “Half a day’s walk my ass. This trail has no end,” he raised his voice.

“Shush,” Kristine cut him off, “I’m still walking with yesterday’s breakfast. You have no right to complain.”

“Not my fault you didn’t bring anything withcha.”

“That’s no excuse. You didn’t even give me a loaf of bread and ate all that staring into my eyes!”

“Well, duh. Otherwise, I woulda been like you, tired and hungry.”

“Maybe don’t talk like that, Jim,” Johnathan stuck his oar in. “We probably wouldn’t even have known about the existence of said village if we hadn’t run into her.”

“It’s not like Yderemea is the only village in the Kingdom,” Jimothan replied apathetically. “We could’ve just split up earlier instead.”     

“Split up?”

“My brother and I… our itinerary separates our paths. I asked him to stay together until we were near the mountains of Oros. That’s why we’re still together, despite going in two opposite directions.”

“Quick question, do you two travel because you’ve got nowhere to go or is it more of a ‘getting the most out of it’ kinda situation?”

“Nah,” Jimothan replied nonchalantly, “spending the rest of my life fighting for my life in this cold ain’t for me. I’ll probably settle somewhere comfortable.”

“If your criteria is comfort, why go to Shenfú?” Johnathan asked, dumbstruck. “I bet the Federation would allow a far more laid-back life for you once you learn how to utilise their technology.”

“Would it be that easy for a Demon?” 

“True,” Kristine agreed, “I heard Demons aren’t very welcome there. Most Cryptids hold grudges, apparently.”

“Which’s very pointless if you ask me.” Jimothan shrugged. “Who cares if there were wars in our history? They won, didn’t they? What’re they so mad about?”

“Victory based on circumstantial odds may not feel triumphant? Or maybe they’re just unsettled by the casualties they suffered?”

“With that logic, we should have hated them, too,” Kristine disagreed, “Not that I'm some sort of nomad, but I don’t think there're many Demons who would get worked up when they see one.”

“Most Demons’ lives are spent on the battlefield, though, especially our seniors. I doubt they had any second thoughts about their opponent as long as they remained opponents. Not a grudge, hatred, or sympathy.

“The last 40 years spent outside of battle may have had an impact on their way of life, but even then, this fragile peace we have…” he started a sentence, but he had not finished it. Kristine sensed the awkwardness and waited for a reply, whereas Jimothan kept walking with his characteristic smugness.

“Sooooo,” Kristine digressed, “Where are you off to?” she questioned Johnathan.

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Unlike him, I do wanna see what this Cryptid technology is all about. I have no clue how I’m going to get past Oceania, though.”

“Sure, mama’s magic boy,” Jimothan mocked. “Just split the ocean in two. Should be easy for the greaaaaaaat great wizard you’re meant to be.”

“It would take years before I could regenerate enough Essence for that…” Johnathan answered, rolling his eyes. He seemed offended.

“Oh, is it because of the barrier yesterday?” 

“No… I mean, yeah, that…” 

“You’re a terrible liar, bro.”

“Can you shut up for once, Jim?!” Johnathan exclaimed. 

“Why, you mad?” Jimothan turned towards Johnathan and continued walking backwards. “Don’t tell me you’re mad. Oh nooooooo.”

“Idiot musclebrain…”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY??”

“MUSCLEBRAIN! YOUR BRAIN IS NOTHING BUT MUSCLES!! STUPID BRUTE!!!”

“BRAT I’LL BEA—”

Jimothan’s heel hit something of unbeknownst shape. It was not sharp or painful; the surface was not straight, but roundish. It was not a perfect sphere, but it was well-cleaned aside from the snow on top.

Jimothan’s left foot remained further because of the obstacle blocking it, but his right foot kept going because his brain had not registered the event fast enough, he lost his balance and fell on his bum.

Johnathan paused to help him. Despite snickering, as if to say, that’s what you get for threatening me, he extended a hand to provide aid. Jimothan refused to accept his assistance. He used his hands to sort his stuff and push himself off the ground.

“Oops,” Kristine put her hand over her mouth snobbily, “my bad.”

“Sonovabitch!!” Jimothan shouted. She dashed after Kristine. 

Kristine had not answered but just ran as she giggled merrily. Johnathan had to sprint after them too to not lose sight of their guide.

The relentless chase halted once the grand village entered view. Once they neared the city, the lifeless soil beneath became decorated with shiny pebbles. The footpath had been surrounded with fences on each side. The logs handcrafted to become fences had no stains on them, aside from the snow, as if they were regularly wiped with detergent to make them squeaky clean for the sake of appearances.

At the end of the path of pebbles, dirt, and logs, there was a large area. At the centre, there was a statue of the Empress made of chipped stone, which also served as the heart of the village where every pathway ultimately ended up. The statue was darker grey, but it was by no means underwhelming. The Empress’ pose, with one fist in the air with a fierce and determined expression, was enough to inspire any passersby Demon and motivate them to work harder.

The statue was surrounded by tons of houses. Upon entering, the visible dwellings appeared to be constructed of timber framing, giving them a wooden appearance. The houses had triple-pane windows. The material for the roof was not a fixed standard. The majority preferred roofs out of tin, with a single slope facing the rear. It functioned as a means of preventing snow from piling up on top of the house and possibly blocking the entrance. In return for its practicality, it turned the visuals into a miasma for one’s eyes.

Houses with these tin roofs were typically a single floor. They were not cramped, but they were not extravagant, either. There was space for about four or five rooms each.

There were exceptions to the common architecture most villagers preferred. An outlying settlement preferred a more traditional, double-sloped roof made of wood veneer to match the wooden exterior of the house. This house, in particular, was shorter in width but taller in longitude, a two-story house. 

There was no systematic instalment of the settlements of Yderemea except for those surrounding the centre. The ones farther back had varying amounts of space in between to accommodate a garden. There were fences likewise made of logs to separate gardens, but many were not tall enough to mask one’s activities from their neighbours. 

Both Johnathan and Jimothan were surprised to see architecture similar to those in the capital. Johnathan was particularly intrigued by the double-story house far away as the wood veneers caught his eye. They looked an awful lot like wood, but they must have been fundamentally different.

Kristine abruptly showed them around as they followed one of the many trails emerging from the heart of the village and led them to her house.

When they arrived, it was unclear whether they were welcome. Two angry faces answered the door.