The bag that Dorian made from the cloth underclothes of some of the mannequins was completely full of, well, everything else they had been wearing. He took the things he didn’t want or were too torn to wear, the stuff he did want, the little trinkets they wore that didn’t have any use as far as he could tell. He had the padded weapons, which he found out after mannequin forty-seven, could be unpadded. He kept them padded however so when he did sell them, they were unchipped; someone could sharpen them from scratch. There was leather armor, well-made robes, boots, gloves, hoods and helmets, weapons and more, he took it all and walked out of there like Santa Claus.
What he wore was a set of solid black pants with leather on the knees, the boots he’d won off the first warrior he defeated, a rugged and durable pair he was used to. He had a loose white long sleeve shirt covered by a worn but well taken care of leather cuirass that extended onto the shoulders. Each side had a plain pauldron, worn but sturdy looking, and leather sleeves that came to just above the elbow; the left side went all the way down the arm and the forearm looked to have metal worked in it for defensive movements. He had a long cloak with a hood covering his features, a dagger on the back of his waist and a simple gold chain he’d found on the last mannequin that he swore hadn’t been there when he’d started fighting it. The chain, compared to the other trinkets, felt different when he looked at it, he couldn't figure out why, but it called to him.
He didn’t know how long it had been, but he knew he had gotten taller, facial hair was growing faster, and his body looked way more adult than it had. His muscles had become corded and lean, his movements and the way he walked screamed out that he’d seen some kind of combat. He looked cautious and on guard at all times.
He’d never learned real martial arts so everything he did was self-taught; he was under no illusion that a master or real martial artist would have their way with him, but he also knew his unpredictability along with his skill with barriers would give anyone a run for their money.
“Come on Dorian, you can do this, just some people out there, nothing scary or dangerous about it.” He hyped himself up while not so secretly wishing for danger and scary instead of people. He tied the bag off and created a barrier for it to rest on as he mentally prepared.
He grabbed the bag and pulled it along barriers he kept creating, they had to stay static even though he could control size he couldn’t shift position after it had been made. So, he just kept making barriers and dragged the bag along them. “Dragging all this out better be worth it, this bag is heavy as hell.” He complained as the door opened and for the first time in a long time, Dorian saw real sunlight. He took a deep breath; the air inside the training room wasn’t stale or anything, but it didn’t have that sweet smell that fresh air held. He stole another lung full before registering the noise he heard and preparing himself for the questions he knew would come.
There was someone whistling nearby, a familiar tune from an old TV show. Dorian wanted to sneak out before anyone noticed him and could question him but the massive bag that seemingly floated in the air and the hooded figure that carried it. Who, also, conveniently fit the description of any thief that ever existed.
Dorian groaned as the whistling stopped and a shout rang out, “Hey! Stop right there!” the voice was weirdly familiar. Dorian turned to see Elliot, the guardsman who had talked him down before the test started… how long ago? “Who are you,” he eyed the bag, Dorian’s attire, and the hood that covered him. Placing his hand on his own club he asked Dorian how a climber had gotten through the testing gate.
Dorian realized what was happening, he looked like a tower climber with a bunch of loot coming from a good climb, but coming out of the testing gate from the Tower would be impossible. “Did you steal that?” Elliot asked with a nod, toward the bag. His eyes were weary, and his hand loosely gripped his club.
“Where did you get that gear from?” not wanting to get into a fight, Dorian reached up and took off his hood showing a face that Elliot knew but didn’t recognize completely. Elliot eyed the young adult, his face showed him to be eighteen or nineteen maybe, his dark facial hair starting to come in thicker, the boy needed to shave. His dark hair was long and needed a trim, it looked like it had just been hacked off over and over with a dagger.
There were three scars about an inch away from each other on the left side of his face, one right by the eye, one next to the eyebrow, and the third at the top of the cheek. A metal gauntlet had caught him and cut him to the bone, the bed couldn’t heal the scarring. Elliot squinted, taking in the cloak, face, and armor, he couldn’t see anything else.
“Hey, Elliot, long time no see.” Dorian smiled at the guardsman who looked lost for another moment before visibly recoiling.
“I know you… you were the kid… Dorian? Dorian Feldayne! Is that REALLY you? How did you? We thought, well we thought you were… I knew the testing room wouldn’t have killed anyone, but it’s been so long, what happened? Are you alright?” This is what Dorian didn’t want to happen until he was home, he hated the awkward questioning and then needing to explain the same thing fourteen times. So, instead of answering he asked Elliot a question.
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“What time do you get off, Elliot?”
Elliot pursed his lips, I just got off, that’s why I was whistli… never mind that’s not important, why do you want to know”?
“I still owe you some bread, right?” Dorian smiled “I’ll get you the bread I owe you and explain what happened to everyone all at once. If you’re ok with that, that is.” He realized they didn’t know each other, basically at all, and the only time they met he yakked all over the man’s boots.
At the mention of bread Elliot grinned greedily and licked his lips, “say less, my friend,” Dorian didn’t realize he’d stopped making barriers and his bag now sat on the floor, so he was happy when Elliot grabbed one side of the bag and grunted as he helped Dorian carry it.
Dorian could tell Elliot wanted to talk about what had happened but respectfully he walked along in silence. In the silence Elliot took Dorian in, he gawked a little as he noticed the boy wasn’t struggling nearly as much as he should have been. “What happened to you, kid?” he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to ask.
“Hmmm…” Dorian chewed his cheek as they turned toward the auctioneer’s building “training I guess sums it up, the whole story, well it’s long and I don’t wanna tell it a million times if I’m being totally honest.” He opened his mouth into an O shape and remembered something very important he wanted to ask. “Oh, yeah, how long was I in there”? he asked Elliot with a smile; it was a happy one until Elliot told him.
By the time Dorian registered the words, his body went numb. He dropped the half of the bag he was holding, some items rolling out. “You’re joking, right?” he pleaded “A.. a ye.. a year and a half…?” he barely whispered it, so quiet you could hear his heart drop from his chest into his feet. He started to remember Elliot’s ramblings from before, he said everyone thought he was something… everyone thought he was dead. “My family thinks I’ve been dead for a year and half?” his voice rained down like shattered glass.
Elliot was awkwardly picking up the items - Dorian hadn’t moved an inch since he heard how long it had been. Without prompting, Elliot explained what had happened since Dorian walked into the testing tower. He started by telling Dorian about the longest test on record; it had been two weeks or so. After that time passed they gave him two more weeks, then another two before finally marking him as MIT, Missing in Tower. This was a first, no one had ever disappeared in the testing facility. Once the information had spread it had created a whole new curriculum at the academy. Students were trained in more survival and combat before they acquired their Focus to help them avoid Dorian’s assumed fate.
After the year had passed, they marked him KIT, Killed in Tower. Almost immediately after that announcement, the Feldayne bakery shut down for months. Elliot glanced at Dorian who was crying, not sobbing, but tears freely flowed from his eyes. “When it finally opened back up it was only bread, your mother stopped making deserts, but that will probably change now!” he said excitedly, trying to spark a little joy in Dorian.
Elliot saw a glimpse of the absolute pain in Dorian’s eyes, he saw his heart shattering and the tears still dripping from his chin. “Can you,” Dorian choked on the next words and cleared his throat “can you take these to the auction for me… I, ugh, I’ve gotta go see my mom and dad”. Elliot didn’t say anything. He put himself in Dorian’s shoes and read back everything he’d just said mentally.
Realizing what he had been telling Dorian and how he said it so nonchalantly, he just blinked a few times in stunned realization before nodding and assuring Dorian he would get them to the A.H.. Then, Elliot’s jaw hit the floor, bounced off the ground, and dropped again when he saw Dorian walk into the sky somehow, moving on something like invisible steps.
When Elliot tried to make out what Dorian was stepping onto, he noticed squares of blurry air, they didn’t look like they would be easy to move on, but Dorian made an art of it. He sprinted through the air toward home, the cool wind drying his face. He didn’t even stop to look down at the city lit up at night, full of life like stars in the sky. He dashed over the bakery stacks, slightly smoking, the smell of the best bread in the world hit him like a physical force and he slipped in the air, fully crying now with the memories that accompanied that smell. He caught himself on a barrier and scrambled to get up and start moving again.
He started making the barriers at an angle and slid down them like a slide toward the front door of his home located right behind the bakery. As soon as he was as close as he thought he needed to be he yelled as loud as he could, louder than he thought possible, his voice tore through the night like a gunshot.
“MOM! DAD!" - It had barely been thirty seconds before the front door slammed open and his mother was there, eyes already gushing tears. Dorian hit the ground and scrambled from all fours into a sprint toward her, his father popping into the doorway as soon as she left it.
“Dori…DORIAN!” She got her hands on him; he’d never been hugged or kissed so much. Everything was inaudible, there was crying that sounded like screaming, it was so loud neighbors started poking their heads out of windows, hands covering their mouths and fingers running under noises and eyes when they realized what was happening.
Dorian’s father walked over and helped his wife and son stand up, his mother holding her son so tightly Dorian didn’t think his blood could make it to his brain. He was totally fine with that, at this moment every bone in his body could be broken and he wouldn’t feel a thing except the joy of seeing his parents again. His mother just kept saying “my son, my boy” and “oh, Dorian” between sobs and his father was smiling wider than he’d ever seen it, eyes sparkling with tears.
