SUPPOSEDLY, THE ground floor of the Tower was a floor zero, which designated the next level as the first. At least, according to Vaelstrom. At the center of the ground floor sat the spiraling stair they had taken, leading to a first floor that held only a single door: a passage to the chamber of a Fertile Child. The same layout governed the levels above, totaling six floors, with the sixth standing as the highest peak in the Tower of the Widower. Yet, despite there being only six floors, the ground floor notwithstanding, the gap between each was several miles deep.
To truly ascend a floor was to commit to a journey, and should one ever choose to climb back down, it would take an eternity of descent.
Vaelstrom had given Maze a key to his room. It was necessary for an Orphan to have a key, but it was not an ordinary key. From what Vaelstrom had explained to Maze, once an unclaimed key had touched a Child without a 'chamber' yet, it would physically bind itself to the subject and become one. This was a fact, for the moment Maze opened the chest containing the key and held it, the object became a ring; at his will, it could then be turned into a key to unlock his chamber. However, how this was possible was not yet something that Maze had explored.
Inside his bedchamber, the space was octagonally shaped and spanned about a hundred meters wide. Each wall held a door, totaling eight doors in count. The entire chamber was polished cobblestone, from the walls to the ceiling and the floor, reflecting the light of a giant candelabra dangling from above.
So many doors . . .
At the center of the room sat a king-sized canopy bed, raised upon a platform several inches high, with each side of the dais featuring two-step stairs. Four pillars rose to meet the upper frame, complete with bedposts, rods, and finials, crowned by a regal bed crown that made the structure so grand, Maze questioned if it was truly his. To a shepherd used to a bed that was cramped, rough, and dense, this was an impossible luxury.
Now that he was alone, Maze remembered what Vaelstrom had told him about what happened last night.
"You see, there are some matters I could not tell, as much as I want to be . . . er, an impressive senior. I feel like I only give you as much heavyweight information that you cannot, perhaps, digest in one sitting, so in fact, I apologize for such."
Maze remembered how Vaelstrom's dull eyes could not even stare at him, as if he were embarrassed, while the tip of his nose blushed as he scratched his nape.
"I am supposed to be a good senior to you, but right now, all I could do is . . . talk forcibly as if . . . I am fond of talking. Not that I really want to talk, but it is good that I can finally talk to someone." So on and so forth. He had many other dilly-dallying words to say after that before he finally reached his point. "Last night you were so soaked and wet that you had to be dried of your clothes before you were sent to the infirmary. They took care of you really well and advised us to be good to you." Then he became stern for a moment. "Just to be clear, it might be your last time hearing me talk so much that I almost forgot how boring life was when you were not around." Vaelstrom even rubbed his temples. "Anyway, I could feel that I will be scolded for my lack of preparation. I almost failed at my task. Such a failure."
With a heavy shoulder, he left Maze alone in front of his room after handing him the key; perhaps he became so oblivious that he forgot what it was called. He added that new clothes would be waiting in his wardrobe, mentioning that 'the tower recognizes the child and thus prepared in advance the necessity of the individual upon arriving at his respective room.'
Clearly, Vaelstrom could not maintain his talkativeness and had become awkward, though Maze felt relieved to have a senior he could rely on, one who happened to be the same age as him.
After Maze used the bathroom, which was set into the far-left canted wall near the door which he could enter and exit, he put on the black sleeves and trousers. They fitted his body perfectly. Recalling Vaelstrom's words, he could only agree with the foreknowledge of the Tower.
Apparently, he was also cautioned not to open other doors, just the doors leading to the bathroom and the wardrobe, which was only opposite of the bathroom door. Maze quite understood the words. He also thought that opening others he was unfamiliar with would only result in predicaments, and so he did not become curious as to what the other doors were used for.
As he rested on the bed, Maze recalled everything he had learned. There are many things I need to take note of, he thought. They are important now that I am an official Orphan Child.
Everything was still vivid: from chasing after his master to being abducted by the griffin and finally transported into the Tower of the Widower.
The kindness of these people was a riddle he could not yet solve. They were so considerate, so careful in their care, that it felt almost planned. Even the gift from his master remained a mystery. Its true value was a secret he kept from him. But most of all, I am haunted by their silence regarding my blindfold, and it is a strange truth they seem to accept without question.
How many times must he be anxious about this fact?
They know that I can see through such cloth, even as it grafts itself to my face, becoming a living part of my own skin. He was certain about it, but their refusal to speak of it . . . that was a mystery that, maybe, runs deeper than his special abilities that he had not uncovered. But would he ever uncover it? To not mind it at all, that was something else entirely.
Apart from that, he wondered about his paths and the philosophy behind the existences he had gained. From the three-fold existence, such as the body, soul, and spirit as one, to the very idea of ascension and descension. Maze unfurled his hands and looked at his palms. He sensed the lingering agony of opening the paths and birthing the Soul Tree. Even Maze knew that if not for his Phantasm, specifically his Vision, he might never have seen it or learned by manifesting it. It was a wonderful, yet excruciating, experience.
Many things are still left unexplained, but given that I cannot yet digest them, it is best I am left in the dark for a while. Being aware of these things has only opened a world I never realized existed.
The realization that these happenings were real and not born of illusion troubled Maze the most. He was welcomed to a new life, but the unfolding reality was one that had existed long before he arrived as a shepherd. There were many secrets lurking in the dark, obscured from the eyes of a commoner.
But for his master . . . perhaps that was not the case.
Master, I have no idea who or what you are. What were you thinking when you opened this path for me? When you wanted me to experience this . . . ?
What could he do—
It is absurd, but for your sake as my savior, and for my previous reality as a former shepherd, I will continue. I will ascend, only because . . . I hope to meet you.
—but to only tell these words to himself?
That is my reason to live, to pursue this future you wrote to me about. I only hope I will meet you there, and we will experience it together.
Maze brushed his hair before he sighed exasperatedly. "Perhaps I should sleep."
But he, in fact, could not sleep. He was there inside his bedchamber with nothing to do but process his own thoughts, recalling what he had learned over and over.
Even when lunch arrived and he went to the dining area to eat with Vaelstrom, the senior who was once talkative had begun to mind his own business. Vaelstrom seemed to feel weary about his surroundings, and Maze found it impossible to approach him for conversation. The man only notified him to return to his bedchamber and avoid anything unnecessary that could lead to malpractice. It was perhaps an attempt to learn on his own, which Maze had not even considered doing since it was likely dangerous, a fact supported by Vaelstrom's own warning.
When dusk had almost settled, Maze heard a knocking upon his door. Upon opening it, he was greeted by the ocean-blue eyes of Sir Azaniel.
The man cleared his throat. "Good evening, Maze."
Maze greeted him in return.
"I heard that you learned a lot and almost sank under the heavyweight knowledge your senior imbued upon you." Sir Azaniel fixed his suit before continuing. "Worry no more, as we scolded him for you, but know that he tried his best."
Maze attempted to smile, assuming he could clear any misunderstanding. "I hope you did not scold him harshly, Sir Azaniel. In fact, he has been a great help to me, and I have only been grateful for the teachings . . ."
Though I almost forgot some things, I still did a good job trying to make sense of everything, Maze thought to himself. But he could not even blame him for that, for he was mindful that he made a great effort in guiding him.
"That is great news to me." Sir Azaniel nodded his head slowly in understanding. "I suggest we hurry to the ground floor, then." He looked at Maze meaningfully. "The others are waiting. They have come with the wish to finally meet you."
They wasted no more time after that.
As he wished to meet the others, just as much as they wished to see him.