Keenin moved a white piece across the chessboard. The more he focused on these small amusements, the less he had to think of where he would end up; swallowed by fate and the tide of clashing blades. Dia leaned dangerously on the other side of the board contemplating her own pieces. 

“If I were you,” Clide said, “That pawn should be moved.”

“Let me think, Clide,” Dia complained.

“Just saying.”

“Well…” Dia moved the pawn. “You need to wait your turn.”

“Ask Ru to play with you,” Keenin suggested. 

The man Ru was hanging near the end of the cart peeling potatoes by flaking away large round chunks. His hand was notably bandaged today.

“He’s as dull as a rusty knife,” Clide said. 

“He can hear us,” Dia mentioned. She cautiously moved her knight up.

“Your point being,” Clide said. 

“It’s not as though we’ve been much help either,” Keenin told him. 

The wagon had not drawn attention despite the other refugees and merchants mulling along the road. He knew why. Keenin had stayed awake during their roadside stop to see Vindice delicately cut her hand and paint over the markings on the wagon. If the adults couldn’t bend the world in his favor, then no one likely could.

“Young master Clide didn’t need to come,” Ru said. “Miss Vindice is being exceptionally kind to let you all in here.”

“What's that supposed to mean,” Clide retorted. 

“I mean only a silly child would cast real magic as part of a show. Showing unique talent is a quick way to get kidnaped. You two should quit relying on your friend.”

“It’s fine,” Keenin said quickly. 

“So they can use you?” Ru spoke.

“They helped me more than you know. Paying them back with my talents is nothing and I can defend myself just fine,” Keenin spoke out.

“Keenin. I'm sorry. I should have realized the attention from that show,” Dia said. 

“I said it was fine.”

“Better not tell that to anyone in Meladonna. Most would use your kindness for gain. Not to mention the war.” 

The knife in Ru’s bandaged hand continued to skim off rough slices of potato peel. 

“Ah yes, the war. Not doing so well there are you. I wonder if they would appreciate my help,” Clide stated.

“I think they have enough dead bodies.” 

“Heh. Think you're funny.” Clide dug a hand into a box of apples and pulled up a bottle of wine. 

“Now what do you say, we quit pretending these are the last of days and enjoy this,” Clide said. “That way when we get robbed of these fine goods, it won’t feel so bad.”

“Put that back,” Ru said. 

“There are some thirsty people outside. I heard people talking about us yesterday.”

“You hear conversations out there?”

“We all have talents. Your hideaway cart isn’t standing up to the crowds. If I were you I would come to sit further inside. I mean did you hurt your hand peeling potatoes or drawing blood runes for your girlfriend.”

***

“Hey, Dia,” Keenin called softly. 

His mind was fuzzy from the drink and his back aching from the hard surface he leaned on. Keenin couldn’t recall when exactly the wooden planks below had risen up to meet him or whose foot now rested heavily against his stomach. 

Dia continued to sleep unaware of his concerns. Keenin conjured a tiny flame in the dark. “Some magic teacher you are, but this fire really just follows my thoughts so not much to say.” 

Keenin lazily moved the spark around in little loops and circled before he caught a reflective set of eyes and snuffed it out in alarm.

Ru's voice penetrated the dark, “You got better.”

“Please tell me the glowing eyes were yours.”

Ru chuckled. 

“Sleep while you can, kid. Dream nice dreams while you can.”

“Why? Do nice things only happen in dreams?”

“Hmm. I suppose you're right. There are certainly nice moments day to day. It's just when we reach a certain age we can't help but want to relive certain times.”

*

Dreams. We're they supposed to be like this? Keenin stood watching the fire elemental as the smoldering spirit surveyed the battlefield in front of them. The wind blew past softly, the men’s armor glinted, weapons flashed, horses bit and reared as the men of Meladona and the undead army of Iscara clashed. The noise rained over them as family, love, and friends washed away. 

“What’s the point in staring at it?" Keenin asked, but he didn’t expect the spirit to have an answer.