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It had been three weeks.
Three weeks since the defeat of Mordremoth.
And three weeks since the Commander went missing.
Reimenon hums absentmindedly to himself, as he tidies his quarters in the Dreamers' Terrace. Clearing trinkets here and there, sorting through old junk he collected over his ventures... Yet all the busy work couldn't pull him from his thoughts.
"You were the last one to see him. Didn't he say anything?"
"Did the Commander leave a clue or something?"
"How did.... did he really disappear without a trace?"
"Well... Are you acting commander now?"
Questions from Dragon's Watch. Questions he couldn't answer.
With a winsome sigh, he sets down the broom against a bookshelf. Reimenon couldn't get far from where he moved—feeling something bump into his leg. Nearly jumping, he finds a familiar sight, his sweet thorn hound companion, nuzzling into his leg. Laughing gently, he reaches down, stroking Archer on her tawny cheek. "Did you read my mind?" He jests, the thorn hound barks in delight. "Are you telling me to stop overthinking things?"
Another noncommittal bark from Archer in response tells him everything. "Fine, fine..." He beams gently, slowly rising back up, giving the hound one last affectionate pet.
But before he could take another step, he felt a chill roam along his skin. As if he had trekked the line between the snow and Green plains of Timberline Falls. He brushes the cold off with a shrug.
Knock, knock.
Reimenon freezes in place, swinging his body towards the direction of the sound. Archer, readies herself, stance low and ready to pounce.
Slowly, he makes his way to the front door--whoever was behind it.... the only thing separating them was a towering leaf wall. His hammer, catching his eye, shimmers in the dim morning light. Reaching for his hammer, he curls his fist around the handle... As the other moves to wave the leaf wall door apart.
As soon as the warm sunlight washes over him, he's met with an icy silver pair of eyes.
Reimenon's eyes widen, as he steps out of the doorway, his heart leaping into his throat. "Ak... Commander Akaijel?" He gawks in disbelief.
Upon first glance, everything seemed normal with Akaijel... the shorter Sylvari was wearing his typical light armor. Regal, one would say. Maybe even fitting for a prince. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
Questions run in Rei's mind a mile a minute. Then the questions began spilling out his mouth like a waterfall. "Where have you been?" He steps closer, voice wavering with shock. "Dragon's Watch was looking everywhere for you! Do you know how long you've been gone? Are you hurt? Did anyone kidnap you? Did... Did Mordremoth have something to with this--"
"I need your help." Akaijel interrupts him. His tone was less like a question and more like a… directive.
Reimenon catches himself. The fact that the commander didn't care about his own disappearance sobered him from the wave of confusion. "Uh... What's that?"
Akaijel stiffens, his expression unmoving. "Could you help me?"
At least... he corrected his tone.
Reimenon folds his arms. Before he could speak, he's interrupted by a string of barks and yips, as a figure races past his legs, stopping right at Akaijel's heels.
"Archer!" The taller Sylvari exclaims in surprise. But his words fell on deaf ears. Archer sits down politely in front of the commander, tail wagging with delight.
For a moment, Reimenon thought the other Sylvari would shoo her away... until the commander slowly crouches down beside her, running his fingers through the thorn hound's leaf mane.
Akaijel's movements were slow, relaxed. "Hello there..." He murmurs, voice solemn and quiet. "I'm sorry that I didn't give you pats the first time we met." Archer didn't seem to care much--the hound barked with joy.
The commander stands up, expression unmoving, yet expectant. Reimenon couldn't... Quite believe the gesture from the other. Silence hangs in the air as Reimenon's eyes meet Akaijel's.
Blinking, the taller Sylvari replies. "Yeah."
Moments later, the two Sylvari walked side by side. The destination, Reimenon didn't know of. Not like the commander talked much, anyway. All he could determine was that they were treading along the verdant slopes of the Grove—towards the upper levels. Shortly after, Reimenon’s raven companion, Vee, opted to perch on his right shoulder.
Humming to himself, Reimenon tries his best to match the other's stride, while still letting Akaijel lead. The gentle breeze carried birdsong and conversation through the air... though the deafening silence weighed heavy in the space between them. The liveliness of the Grove felt drowned out, somehow. Reimenon steals a glance towards his right, finding Akaijel's gaze ahead of their path.
Sighing, Reimenon debates on breaking the silence. What exactly was he helping with? Isn't it fair that he should know?
And where did the Commander disappear off to, anyway?
"So, uh...." Reimenon begins. "A lot has happened, huh?" He asks, words caught in his throat.
Akaijel doesn't make a sound, eyes instead glancing towards the left. "Right...." He simply replies.
Reimenon scratches the back of his head. "I-I didn't mention yet--what happened to me," he continues. "After.. after all the..." He trails off, gesturing vaguely towards Akaijel. He didn't expect a response from the commander of course, but he could sense a hint of intrigue from the other. The taller Sylvari clears his throat. "So... I kind of became the jungle's protector? It's... It's easier to say I'm connected to it, I guess..." Reimenon sighs. "Wish there was an easier way to explain...."
And more silence.
The shorter Sylvari offers a brief glance. “Right…” he repeats himself dryly..
Usually, that kind of revelation would somewhat shock someone. Yet, Akaijel is far from nonplussed.
Embarrassment bites at Reimenon’s chest, a stinging knot settling in his stomach. Awkwardly, he tries to change the subject, scratching at the back of his head with a hand. He still had one more question (among a million other ones). “A-Anyway, where ha—”
“Nowhere in particular.” Akaijel cuts him off abruptly. Quick and clean like a sharp knife.
If Reimenon wasn’t used to the other’s blunt disposition, he would be mere moments from pummeling the Commander on the floor. Vee croaks once, shaking his feathered head from side to side.
Defeated, Reimenon inhales deeply. His questions weren’t being answered now… he wasn’t sure if it’ll be answered later. The air was thick with tension as the two Sylvari continued walking, the citizens of the Grove carrying on with their own existences. The quiet, crisp air and the evergreen grass crunching softly under footsteps almost lulled him to a mindless stroll through the city—until a quick hand in front of his chest snapped him back to reality.
Blinking away the haze, he finds Akaijel, the Commander pointing to a small shop just a few strides away. “Wait here,” he murmurs, slinking away towards the shop before Reimenon could respond.
The taller Sylvari does not even try to argue, grumbling to himself, and reaches to give the raven on his shoulder a scratch on the stomach.
“I can’t stand him sometimes.” Reimenon comments.
Vee begins squawking, cadence like laughter.
In the midst of the raven’s squawking, the autumn-red leafy doors swished open, Akaijel appearing from behind them—a shovel in each hand. Quirking an eyebrow, Reimenon points towards the tools. He opens his mouth to speak, yet all that escapes him is a sputter while a shovel is flung towards him. Fumbling, he catches it in one hand haphazardly, his eyebrow quirked in disbelief.
Curiosity, like a stubborn thorn in his side, was starting to tear him apart at the seams. All of a sudden, words escape from Reimenon’s mouth. “Pale Tree, just where are we going? And why bring shovels?”
Akaijel’s expression remains like stone, unmoving.
Unnerving.
“We’re burying a body.”
With nothing further to say, Akaijel stalks off, leaving Reimenon frozen in his spot. He stares after the Commander, face numb with mild horror. “At least tell me if you’re joking or not!” He hollers, chasing after the shorter Sylvari.
Reimenon quickly catches up to Akaijel, recognizing their surroundings. The treetops of the Grove gave way to the cloudy, azure sky, scattered sunbeams fluttering through the trees. The Upper Commons of the Grove. The two Sylvari pass under a twisting archway, vines intertwined like lush curtains. The path in front of them slopes down gently, the trail leading to Caledon Forest just a short stride away.
When Akaijel stops in front of a clearing, gaze settling towards the sky, Reimenon follows suit.
His eyes widen as he finds just what the Commander was staring at. Atop the wall, which bordered the upper layer of the Grove, was a cloud of shimmering, violet light, trails of butterflies, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.
Mesmer illusions.
“Ominous,” Reimenon thinks to himself. But, he didn't think to himself at all—he spies Akaijel's eyes on him.
There were a few other Sylvari, faces he couldn’t recognize, and a few Wardens milling about the clearing.
Eyebrows knitted, Reimenon leans over to Akaijel, his voice in a harsh whisper. “Should we really be burying a body in front of all these people?”
Akaijel leans away from Reimenon, face twisted in incredulity. “Wh—” he begins, then realization dawns upon him. “Oh for… we’re planting flowers. Flowers. That’s what the shovels are for.”
Reimenon scrunches up his face, as if he bit into a sour lemon. “Your jokes suck.”
The Commander rolls his eyes, scoffing loudly. “Will you stand there like a tree or help me?” He calls over his shoulder, as he steps towards the illusion, just right in front of the wall. Akaijel points in front of him, a patch of dirt enclosed by vine fencing. “Here. We’ll plant the flowers here.”
Peering over the area, Reimenon ponders the patch of dirt for just a moment. If they were to plant flowers… he didn’t see any potted plants nearby. Maybe they really are burying a body.
As if Akaijel read Reimenon’s mind, the Commander digs into his pockets, retrieving a small leather pouch. “Seeds are in here. This shouldn’t be too hard for you, right?” He tosses it towards Reimenon, who catches it effortlessly.
A snort escapes Reimenon. “I’d be a poor excuse of a Sylvari if I couldn’t do basic gardening,” he jests, as he unties the rope that secured the pouch. Inside, he finds an assortment of flower seeds and pods. Some of which he couldn’t recognize.
The two glance at each other and nod in unison, before beginning their work. It took no time at all, to loosen the soil with their shovels. The work could’ve been easily done by one pair of hands, leaving Reimenon to wonder why his help was needed, and his help, from all people. During the journey to locate and kill Modremoth, the two argued as if they’d known each other all their lives. Surprisingly, it was peaceful between them.
(Reimenon was ready to bury the seeds in the dirt in no particular pattern, until Akaijel began to bark which row and which column each seed needed to be planted in.)
As Akaijel covers the last few seeds with a light layer of dirt, Reimenon steals a glance at the Commander. It wasn’t rare to see the shorter Sylvari with an indifferent expression, but… there was something that lingered in the Commander’s silvery eyes. Reimenon opens his mouth to ask if something was up, but chooses not to. Maybe it wasn’t the time yet.
Trying to break the dead air between them, Reimenon speaks up. “Which flowers do these grow into? I don’t recognize a few of them…”
Akaijel stands up, wiping his hands with one another to clear off the dirt. At the question, he stiffens, unsure of how to answer. “Just some ones all over Tyria,” he responds. “Some from Caledon forest…” he trails off, then shakes his head. “The outskirts of the Straits and.. Dragon’s Stand…”
The uncertainty in the Commander’s answer left Reimenon with a deep-rooted curiosity. The answer wasn’t anything extraordinary or simple. Crossing his arms across his chest, Reimenon hums for a moment, pondering the Commander’s response.
“Caledon forest, the Straits of Devastation….” the taller Sylvari thinks aloud to himself. When he glosses over Dragon’s Stand, Maguuma Jungle, realization crashes upon him like a tidal wave. He’d be a fool if any memory of Maguuma Jungle left him in such a short time. Slowly, he glances up, finding Akaijel’s confused gaze on him.
“What?” the Commander gripes.
Reimenon waves a hand nonchalantly. “Nothing,” he exhales. It came to him as a bit of a surprise—Akaijel was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve. When tragedy befell them one after the other, when the jungle dragon would tug at their mind, when they'd mourn those who have been lost… the Commander didn't crumble with grief, even for a moment. Or at least, hid it very well.
Tilting his gaze upwards, Reimenon focuses on the shimmering violet illusion. He opens his mouth to speak, voice solemn yet firm. “He meant a lot to you, didn't he?”
Akaijel, beside him, makes a noise of disbelief. The shorter Sylvari turns his head away, clenching his fists. Yet his posture relaxes. He whispers something under his breath, something Reimenon couldn’t catch.
Reimenon shakes his head. “I think he'd appreciate the gesture. Truly,” he nods at the Commander.
Unhurriedly, Akaijel turns to face Reimenon, but stares past him, eyes searching for nothing. “Thanks….” he replies, voice faint and strained, “And… thanks for the help.” He clears his throat. “I assume you're expecting some kind of compensation.”
Leaning back, Reimenon shook his head. Helping others is second nature to him. “Don't sweat it,” he assures Akaijel. “All I ask…” he trails off. “Could I add something to the memorial?”
The Commander’s eyes widen for just a fleeting moment, taken aback by the question. Wordlessly, he nods. “As long as it’s not unsightly,” he grumbles.
Delighted, Reimenon offers a warm smile, brighter than the midday sun. That is the closest thing he has heard to a ‘yes’ from the Commander. “Promise! I’ll even help water the flowers from time to time.”
Huffing, Akaijel tilts his head away enough for his face to be unreadable. He wipes at his mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “I wouldn’t hate that at all.”