"Good morning, sir. Here is today's paper."
"And here are your two copper coins."
A young boy wearing a felt hat handed a fresh newspaper to an old man in a wheelchair. The old man offered the coins and offered a small, weary smile in return. In the fresh sunlight of the approaching spring, a season of change and brightness, the sky had finally cleared after so many frigid nights. This spring felt like a gateway to a new day, one that sought to wash away the lingering bitterness of the past year.
Today was December 30, 2995. By all accounts, it was a day meant for preparation, a prelude to the New Year's festivities. Old Haller was no different. He, too, had been waiting for a small celebration with the children he had once raised.
Haller began to wheel himself forward. He moved slowly and deliberately, crossing the street with painstaking patience. He watched the bustling crowds, the people busy with their holiday errands and laughter. He observed the horse-drawn carriages carrying happy families, and his heart grew heavy with the sight.
The old man entered a flower shop. Since it was a day of celebration, vibrant and passionate flowers were displayed neatly at the front. However, there were always blooms reserved for other, more solemn occasions. Haller selected a bouquet of white chrysanthemums tucked away in a neglected corner of the shop. Seeing the long queue of people at the reception, he quietly approached the counter, placed ten silver coins down, and departed. That amount was likely equivalent to a full week's wages for the shop assistant.
Having finished his task, he quietly left the store. He looked toward the distance where the clock tower was chiming the transition of the hour. Every two hours, the bell would ring. It was currently twelve noon.
"There you are."
He spotted a young man sitting on the curb reading a book, leaning against a lamppost. Recognizing the person he was looking for, the old man let out a sigh and called out.
"Hey, Ron. Over here."
Across a vast, deep green meadow, far removed from the buildings that breathed with the fusion of magic and technology, Ron and Haller traveled down a path choked with filth and mud. Ron pushed Haller's wheelchair, neither of them wearing any expression. A visible weariness clouded Haller's eyes.
When the mud became too thick for the wheels to turn and the long, towering stalks of grass began to obstruct Haller's vision, Ron moved to the front of the wheelchair and crouched down. His movements were fluid and practiced, like a machine following a pre-programmed routine. Haller said nothing more. He gripped Ron's shoulders and tightened his hold around the younger man's neck until he was secure. He could feel the jagged protrusions of Ron's spine through the fabric of his shirt, but he remained silent.
In this manner, one man carried the other through the tall grass toward their destination. They traveled for more than ten minutes before a word was spoken. Haller was the first to break the silence.
"Are Emma and Lunas not in the village this year? I haven't seen them anywhere."
"They went away on business a few weeks ago. They aren't young anymore, they don't have much free time."
Ron offered the reply casually, as if out of obligation, and continued his stride.
Eventually, they reached a large, stately house that resembled a mansion. Or rather, what was once a mansion. It had been burnt to the ground. Only ashes and charred remnants of wood remained, stubbornly clinging to the earth as if fighting against time itself. Strangely, the grass refused to grow near the ruins, creating a stark, barren perimeter around the site of the former home.
Ron did not stop to look around. He walked straight into the wreckage. When he reached an open-air corridor that led to another wing, he stepped inside. In contrast to the main house which had been reduced to nothing, this marble corridor remained incredibly sturdy. Though it bore the scars of ruin and the erosion of time, a few wildflowers had managed to sprout between the stones.
The place Ron and Haller were heading to was a chapel connected to the mansion, built in an ancient, now-dilapidated Gothic style. They entered the sanctuary. The main hall was still in relatively good condition, having escaped total destruction despite the soot and the dust of long neglect. They both seemed to relax slightly as they crossed the threshold.
Ron helped Haller place the bouquet of flowers before the crucifix and then moved toward the pews. He settled Haller onto a long bench near the hall and sat beside him. Neither spoke. They simply sat there, listening to the birdsong and the scent of the fragrant grass.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The sun had not yet set, and they remained shrouded in the quiet stillness of the space. It was only when they heard a chime echoing in their ears through a magical resonance that they stood up. Or rather, Ron stood.
Before climbing back onto Ron's back, the old man asked a final question.
"So, tonight... will you be coming?"
Ron hesitated. He seemed to deliberate for a long time before finally answering.
"I have to attend the night banquet tonight. I'm not entirely sure..."
The old man nodded, letting the matter drop. After all, it had been a long time since they had truly spoken to one another.