Kori, Queen of Barcea

The Queen continued to quietly walk along as she listened to Shadar speak. She walked with her head turned slightly towards the much taller figure, gaze focused upon him while remaining aware of her surroundings, and the path that she led them on. As he revealed his name, origin, and even appearance to her she listened attentively, her gaze betraying not disgust or fear (of which there was none), but genuine surprise. For a brief moment afterwards, she looked forward, but it wasn't to avoid his gaze or compose herself. Instead, it was to pick the next turn of their path, which was through a set of decorative double doors.

She led them outside, into a garden set into place in the space between the hallways that connected the inner and outer rings. It was a quiet, peaceful place with fountains and statues, benches and tables, and of course bushes and flower beds. She didn't say anything for a little while as they walked along, her leading him to a bench that she sat down upon. Her leading her there had two reasons: one was the chance to sit, now that the conversation had deepened so quickly, and the second was privacy. The garden was empty besides them.

"A child of the Masked..." Kori said these words quietly, as if trying to convince herself that this was the reality of the situation. After a moment, she looked up to Shadar, giving a small smile. "I never knew that the Masked could have children. They don't speak of their children in the old stories and texts of the great Divineborn. We know so much about people like Azarain and Vyren, the half-brothers from Yumio and Silvae, but nothing of a child of the Masked... Perhaps that will change soon."

She didn't elaborate any further what she meant by that, instead taking a minute to look towards one of the fountains, watching the water as it rose and fell. "I will never know what it is like to be you, Shadar. I will never be about to fully understand what it is you go through... but I will do my best to do so. I understand your need for secrecy, at the very least." She looked to him then, giving a nod. "I don't plan to do anything with your secret, Shadar. I could never live with myself if I were to take that from you. It is your decision what you do next, you and your brother's."

She gently placed her hands in her lap, briefly, before on either side of her on the bench to help her as she stood. She stepped forwards, going to the fountain to look at it more closely as she thought about what to say next. The Queen had more on her mind than ever now, and it subtly showed in her smile, and how it was ever fainter as compared to the one that she had initially greeted them all with in the streets.

"This may hold no interest to you, Shadar, but I hate war. I was born into it, raised through it, and it was only after my father brought his own death upon him that I was able to end it for ten short years. I am... distressed that, already, it rears its ugly head." Once more, she looked to him, gaze thoughtful and curious. "I won't give away your secret, but may I know what you plan to do with it? In history, there have been two kinds of Divineborn: heroes, and tyrants. Do you aspire to be either? Do you know what you'll do next?"

Cyril, Calypso, and Company

Meanwhile, in the northern part of the castle...

After Joy moved into place, slammed her hand onto the table, and began berating each of the Sentinels present within the castle, a change would come over each.

For Sampson, his eyes briefly widened before he shot up to his feet. He stood tall, with his eyes straight forward and his arms behind him as he attentively listened. It was a complete shift from how he was before, from casually eating to standing at attention like a true Barcean soldier. Meanwhile a confused look crossed over Gortul's face as he seemed to puzzle through Joy's words, something within them not clicking in his head; perhaps it was suddenly being told that his friendly smile was suddenly a bad thing, or perhaps it was being compared to a family pet. Diane, however...

Diane continued on as she had been, in simple terms. During the time that Joy had gotten started verbally tearing into the two other Sentinels, she had settled down behind the Princess (who was more than a little started by Joy's sudden slam and increased volume), beginning to run a brush through the Princess' white hair. At the words turned towards her the young woman simply laughed, calmly giving Joy a stare as the older woman suddenly fell from her moment and moved to the wall.

Catching a look from Alasa as the one Sentinel to escape unscathed continued to put up his equipment, Cyril thought to himself that it would be a good idea to not tell Joy how many times Diane had actually succeeded in hitting him. Diane, in this moment, began to speak.

"That's Lady Laues to you, if you're lucky to be allowed to speak to me at all. Cyril, just who is this mutt-"

"Don't, Diane!" Cyril's voice suddenly rose and cut across the room, Diane blinking in surprise slightly as she looked to him instead. Her look of surprise and slight disbelief was met with a more steeled version of Cyril's gaze, before a sort of relaxed state came over the Prince as he sighed. "Diane, this is Vesta Debove. ’Joy,' if you remember her."

For a moment, Diane didn't seem to make the connection, before her eyebrow raised ever slightly. "Her? Well hasn't she changed... Not that I would have recognized her anyway, considering I wasn't around much in castle before she had her position revoked." With a shrug, Diane returned to running the comb through Ayano's hair.

Cyril just briefly brought his hand to gently hold between his eyes, at the top of his nose as he proceeded forwards to go to stand where Joy had been. Thanks to a nod given by a Prince, both Sampson and Gortul relaxed (though Sampson often glanced warily over to Joy, as if fearful she might suddenly resume her Captain-style tirade). The Prince's hand went to rest on the table lightly.

"Cyril... What is it?" Gortul asked with his heavy words.

"Gartian's finally done it."

The comb in Ayano's hair briefly stopped, before Diane gently pulled it away and set it into Ayano's lap before she turned her head to look at Cyril fully. It took Gortul a moment to process it, but the smile that had already fallen from his face fell even further as his expression became almost sad. Sampson, meanwhile, just slowly sat back down, though he didn't even turn to the table and the food as he held his hands down in front of him, with his arms resting on his knees.

"... How many?" He asked.

"We don't know." Cyril replied. "Hillsborough is completely gone, and we suspect they may have destroyed more."

"What... What has Lady-Kori-Queen decided?" Gortul stumbled over the words briefly.

"She's sending us north, to the Guratans and Alsius. We need to secure their help for defenses, and a long term war if there is one."

"Calling for the Direwolf to come home, then?" Diane asked. "It's about time."

Cyril just gave her a nod initially, before looking around at all of them. "We leave early tomorrow morning, so make sure you're ready. Make sure to get plenty of rest tonight, I want to be close to the border by the time we stop tomorrow." He looked to Joy then. "You can stay in this part of the castle as well... After you're done with drilling."

"Oh Ambrosia, I'm already having flashbacks..." Sampson muttered, before going to quickly scarf down the rest of his food in a matter of seconds, as if in preparation for what he knew what was to come.

"Uhhhh, drilling?" Gortul asked, clearly confused. When he saw Cyril smirked slightly, the very big man paled.

"You'll see."

As the Prince spoke to the Sentinels, Calypso just observed a step or two through the door, with Etsuko still behind her. Her look of startled alarm had eventually faded from her face as her smile drifted back into its more normal state. For the most part, she had listened fairly neutrally, though a brief look of confusion came over her face at all the talk of “drilling.” Apparently she, like Gortul, had no idea what that meant.

Suddenly, Cyril looked over them, and the gesture he made to direct attention to them made Calypso perk up ever slightly. “Everyone, this is the Diviner Etsuko Tanaka, and her travelling companion, Calypso. We met with them before Hillsborough, and they helped us through it.”

“Etsuko’s the blue one, and Calypso has all the different colors of the rainbow!” Ayano added to try and help, but it just made Cyril (and the other Sentinels) blink; though Etsuko could have certainly been described as blue due to her attire, there wasn’t too much color to Calypso except black, silver, and the green in her eyes. It wasn’t often that Ayano was mistaken about colors, in fact no one could remember a time she had ever been wrong, but the current moment didn’t seem to be the time to comment on it.

“Nice to meet you,” said Sampson as he stood, bowing slightly.

“Again, welcome!” Gortul said, a big smile on his face as he seemed to have already forgotten what Joy had said.

“Good evening.” This was all Diane said as she once again took the brush back to Ayano’s hair.

Glancing around at them all, Calypso’s smile seemed to grow slightly as she brought up her hand some, waving it slightly as her fingers wiggled. “Hello…~”

Shadar couldn't help but chuckle at the queen's surprise, glad to see she wasn't completely unshakeable. It helped him feel more at ease with her presence though the lack of shock and/or disgust was definitely something new. The mandible thing tended to unnerve most people, but the queen seemed to get over the whole thing easily enough. Hmm, Barcea has a very interesting woman leading them. . . maybe this entire country won't get torn apart from the hell that's coming if they have someone like her at the helm. He was silent as the Queen led her to the garden, and as they took a seat, he listened to what she had to say. At the comment that it wasn't known if the Masked could even have children, Shadar's eyes started to widen as the implications of his existence started to way on him a bit. All his life, he remembered that he never heard of Divineborn of the masked, but he always figured there had to be others, once he found out his birthright. But hearing this from the Queen made him realize that he and Drosil might be a bigger deal than he had initially given them credit for.

No wonder Valeria and Damian kept telling us to never reveal our parentage to anyone. Know how those vultures in Jasi operate, we'd be on a dissection table in no time. The glowing white of his eyes faded slightly as his thoughts turned to his caretakers, the sorrow he felt after having to leave them having never really abated through his life. I wonder how they're doing. . . He tuned in and out of the rest of the queen's speech, getting the general gist of her thoughts, but her final question left him stunned for a bit. He looked at the queen with an incredulous look on his face (not that she ould tell), before breaking out in an all-out, gut-busting laugh. He had to hold onto his knees to keep himself from falling over and didn't stop for another 10 seconds. Once he had finally calmed down, Shadar turned to the queen, a slight chuckle still in his voice as he did so.

"Me and Drosil, Heroes? Tyrants? Neither of us have any desire or want to rule over any group of people, me because I find humanity, in general, to be not worth my time and Drosil because he's so enthralled with knowledge that he can sometimes hardly be bothered to eat when he's in the middle of the intense study. Dear Queen, while Drosil may be foolhardy enough to become a hero and dive into any and all danger in defense of another, I simply wish to live out my days in peace. I neither require nor want recognition, there shall be no songs about these Divineborn if I have anything to say about it. No popular or well-known ones at least. You have nothing to fear, and little to hope for, from the two of us." Shadar gave a yawn, starting to feel a little tired from the long trek here on foot. Man I could use a cat-nap, but I'd rather not deprive the queen of further conversation . . .Drosil's going to hate me for this. Shadar was once again grinning under his mandibles, feeling not a tinge of remorse for what he was about to do.

"Well, Dear Queen, I thank you for promising to keep our secret, and must bid you a fond farewell for a short while. In the meantime, why not speak with my brother for a bit. I'm sure it'll be . . . interesting." And with a slight nod, Shadar suddenly began to glow with a blinding inner brilliance, the outer vestiges of his armor fading away in swirls of dark mist that lasted but milliseconds in the wake of such illumination. Once the light died down, Queen would find herself face to face with a thin man in robes with black and white hair and dazzling eyes that shone with a strange mix of green and golden hazel.

"Huh?"

Drosil blinked, looking around with staff in hand, slightly confused at what was going on and where he was, until the memories from Shadar poured into his mind, filling him in on the situation. ~Oh, so I'm just having a friendly chat. . . with the Queen of Bar . .cea . . For a few minutes, Drosil appeared to be trying to hide behind his staff, looking everywhere but in the general direction of Kori. Come on Drosil, she's a person, just like you and me. Just talk to her, say high, how ya do- nonnonnonono, that's stupid. How about you're very pre-shit, that's stupid too. Fuck, I'm terrible at talking to pretty women with no time to prepare, and she's gorgeous . . and could kill me for that thought. Crap, I'm going to be executed. Wait, no, she can't read minds . . . or can she? Drosil would continue this inner dialogue with himself for a little while longer, his face turning a deep shade of red once he realized that him not talking was just as embarrassing as saying something stupid. Anything would do right now, he just had to say something.

"So, uh, umm, your Majesty, uh, is exceptionally beautiful. The rumors I've heard really don't do you any justice hehe hehe. Ahem, so, uh. . . how are things, go- no, wait, stupid question. Why would things be good, you're about to go to war, I'm just so stupid, stupid, stupid!" Drosil began to hit bash his head repeatedly against his staff, cursing himself in several different languages as he did so for being such a socially inept idiot. After that started hurting too much to safely continue, he gave a sigh, slumping over in his seat. "Please just kill me now, your Majesty, before my own stupidity does."

Throughout most of Joy's life, she was fine with the fact that she was born with reflexes that were quicker and sharper than her mind. After all, being able to properly quip and bitingly taunt your opponent didn't matter if they were already slicing through your throat. However, it was the times like these that she wished she had been blessed with a bark that could replace her bite. By the time the prospect of even raising a question on how Diane could refer to herself as a lady after her unladylike first impression had even begun to form in Joy's mind the conversation had already moved on. Joy fixed a neutral expression upon her face, her eyes narrowing as Diane mentioned her less than respectable departure. Joy knew she'd gain nothing from antagonizing her, and had even less of a reason to win the woman over. She had already soured her relations with half of the Barcean noble family's when she was Vesta Debove; no reason to try and mend them now.

There was something else that stopped the woman from wanting to make amends. Something that Joy wouldn't want to admit. She shifted her weight uncomfortably as the Prince began explaining to the others, ignoring Sampson's nervous glances and Gortful's confused expression. The other Sentinels had it, too. There was a connection between the group and Cyril that was more than just being soldiers together. It made the air feel weird; it made Joy's chest feel tight. She drifted in and out of the conversation, her mind struggling against her gut reaction to reach for her flask. When she was young, when she led briefings, when she was in command, this room didn't feel like this. She had kept her men at arms length. Strict, professional, efficient, or so she had thought. In hindsight, it had probably been her first major mistake as captain.

Am I jealous? she thought. She didn't know. Joy needed to find the answer. She was told by her gut that she wouldn't find it here in this room. Maybe at the bottom of a bottle? The Sentinels had just lucked out. Drinking would have to replace her plans for drilling. Just need to clear my mind. It's fine.

“Unfortunately, I must rescind my offer. I just recalled that a certain ambassador requested my presence, and I can only keep him waiting for so long,” said Joy, using Ennis as an excuse to escape to any bar she could find. “I'll have time when we make camp to see how your men hold up. Take care, Your Royal Highnesses.” She nodded to Cyril and Ayano and excused herself to Calypso and Etsuko, giving a cold shoulder to the Sentinels as she limped out of the room.



Ennis drew in a deep breath and tried to slow down his hammering heart. Nobody was in this room. He would have certainly found out earlier if that was the case. Picking back up his sword, he slowly crept out of his office and back into the hallway. Three rooms to check. He started with Yan's. Touching his hand to the door knob, he twisted it open as he placed his back against the hallway wall. Gesturing with his hand, he threw a spell into the middle of the room and closed the door shut. There was a tiny, unimpressive crack sound, followed by a brilliant white flash that snuck through the bottom of the door. No expressions or noises that sounded like he had blinded somebody. Still, he checked through Yan's room, his sword extended out in front of him. Nothing. He cleared the next two rooms. Again, nobody was there.

Sighing with relief, he went back to his desk and studied his discovery: a boot print in the now dried ink that had spilled from his desk. Feeling foolish, he optimistically leaned up against his desk and looked at the bottom of his boots, hoping that in his hurry earlier he had just stepped in the puddle and hadn't realized it. He felt his stomach drop: both his shoes were clean. The footprints led to the front door. That explained why his balcony was ajar and his door unlocked, although how somebody broke into his balcony that faced the street without raising an alarm beguiled Ennis. He stepped next to the footprints, trying to measure the size of the stride but failing to draw any conclusions from it.

He walked through his apartment again, checking the rooms to see if anything of value had been stolen. Nothing appeared to have been touched. Ennis fumed for a second; he had plenty of valuables, meaning whomever had broken in wasn't just some random thief. He checked his desk, rummaging through the files and documents. Some seemed shifted out of place, but nothing struck him as missing. Still, he knew somebody had been in his apartment while he was at the castle. What could they have been looking for? He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. Who had reason to do this?

His eyes studied his desk. Nothing of interest had been in any of his official reports—he had made a habit of sending what he sent back to H'kela to Kori as well to serve a sign of good faith (although if she ever actually got them was an uncertainty). Perhaps a Barcean thought he was spying and had taken time to look through his unofficial reports...except those didn't exist and never would exist. Ennis refused to spy for Gartian. Maybe a H'kelan, then? Somebody who hated his family and wanted to find something to defame him? But what would it be? My family has always done things by... His train of thought was cut off as he reached for the letter his father had sent him, warning him about Gartian's attacks and begging him to come home. It had read to Ennis like the letter from a concerned father. To others? It'd probably read closer to a traitor revealing military secrets. His head hurt as he continued thinking hundreds of questions with no answers. He cast a spell on himself to ease the ache.

There was one thing Ennis knew for certain: he had to get rid of this letter. Striking a fire to life in his fireplace, he tossed the letter into the flames and watched as the licked around the edges of the envelope and crisped it black. He slumped into one of his chairs. Who knew about the letter? thought Ennis. There was Nia, but she had known about the letter before he had even opened it. The idea that she had planted it on Ennis to set him up didn't even form in his head. He knew she wouldn't betray him. Yan, then? He was still missing, although Ennis didn't believe he was working for anybody else but him. It didn't make sense. Gartian did have spies in Barcea. Perhaps one of them had been watching? He wouldn't get any help from the guard, and troubling the Queen was not high on his list. Besides, he doubted she would send her men to examine the entire kingdom for dirty boots.

Think.

Think...

Thud!

The noise stirred Ennis. Judging by the view from his balcony, it was now dark outside. You fell asleep? You idiot! He looked around the room in a panic, before his better senses told him to calm his nerves. The thud had come from outside; the loud cursing from his front door confirmed it. Another thud, followed by even more fluent cursing. Surely, some of them had to have been made up on the spot there thought Ennis as he cautiously approached the door. He pulled the door open. He felt tears form in his eyes as the smell of hard alcohol punched him in the nose.

“Come on, ya whoremongering, sandswallowing, dogloving, sonofabitch, open the...open...open the door,” said Joy, slurring her words.

The woman rose her hand up to knock again, swinging forcefully at the now open door. Her body followed after her fist, and Ennis clumsily ducked out of the way to avoid getting hit. She tripped forward, crumpling to the ground as she laughed and swore in pain. Joy was saying something about his mother as Ennis tried to help her up. The drunk woman offered no assistance, prattling on in further and further graphic detail.

“Miss Joy, please, perhaps you shouldn't talk about people you don't know,” said Ennis, finally pulling the woman up to her feet and giving her his shoulder.

“Don't...don't know? I know that bi...” She fell silent. Ennis was worried that she might have been getting sick, and contemplated pushing her away from making a mess on his clothes. “Fucking...fugging...frogging...grog and...you have a drink?” She wiggled her flask in front of his face and giggled. Ennis didn't know the woman well, but it sounded very unnatural and made his skin crawl.“I'm all...alllllllllll gone.”

“Yes, I could tell,” said Ennis, leading the woman into the bathroom. Not the finest of quarters, but he refused to have a mess in the morning and imagined the first thing the woman would want to do is bathe the stench away. “While I appreciate you stopping by, I was hoping you'd be a little more...clear headed, so you would be able to fully appreciate my points. Still, I-”

“Goddamned stupid, dumb, concieted, little noble fuck,” said Joy, cutting Ennis off. At first, he thought she was talking about him, but she continued. “Calling me a mutt, hah, the...the Laues are...” She blew a raspberry. “Stupid, dumb. Lady Laues, should've said, I should've said, hah, I should've said Lady Loser to her big dumb stupid bitch face.”

“Yes, I'm sure that would cut Lady Laues very deeply, Miss Joy. Come on, give me a leg up or something.”

“Eating jerk. Stupid smile. Buncha....buncha nobodies. Faster than...fucking crippled and faster than all of 'em,” she struck her hand and sliced the air, making chopping sounds with her mouth for emphasis. It was anything but impressive. Ennis casually leaned out of the way of the hits. “Assholes. Everyone else...everyone else is an asshole...”

“Mm, yes, clearly that must be it,” said Ennis, lifting one leg followed by another so that Joy was now in the tub. “Sit for me, please?”

“You're...you're cuter than your brother,” she said. “Whatshisname? Pfft, he was a....a loser asshole, too. Couldn't even...weak. You got his stupid dumb big nose. Stupid dumb big H'kelan loser asshole nose.”

“And there you go,” said Ennis, shoving Joy onto her rear with a less than careful push. “I'll check on you to make sure you're asleep and don't hurt yourself soon.”

He cast one spell on the woman as he walked out of the bathroom. Joy was still rambling in gibberish as he closed the door behind him and went to his room, taking a minute to double check the locks on his doors and windows. He had invited her over to ask a question and to see if he could win, or buy, her help. That would have to wait until morning. Now, he'd just have to find a way to sleep knowing that a burgular was on the loose and that there was a boozed bandit in his bathtub.

Kori, Queen of Barcea

At Shadar's very sudden and very loud laugh, the Queen blinked several times in surprise. She simply turned to face him fully as she stood at the fountain, watching and waiting out the practical explosion of laughter. Her head tilted ever slightly as she listened to what Shadar had to say about recognition for both himself and his brother. Considering his want and need for secrecy, what he said made sense. Perhaps, though both the brothers' beginnings and situation were unique, maybe what Shadar wanted wasn't so different. She had no idea how many Divineborn there really were, and how many lived out their lives quietly.

She had to try not to think of it as unfortunate that Shadar's choice was anonymity. Seeing as he had no desire to be a tyrant, it gave her hope that he would have been able to do so much if he were to choose... But he chose instead not to, and the Queen would be certain to respect that. Being unable to choose one's fate, after all, was a terrible curse.

She didn't have a chance to truly finish the conversation with Shadar as it came to its sudden end. Once again blinking as he gave his farewell, she smiled a little as she nodded. "Good evening, Shadar. Rest well." In the next moment, she brought one hand up to cover her eyes as she turned her head away slightly, the light too much for her. Even a few moments after the light seemed to fade she held her gaze away, blinking away the spots that had been briefly burned into her vision from even the initial glance. Only after she lowered her arm did she meet Drosil for the first time.

To say he wasn't what she expected was putting it lightly. She expected some sort of difference between the two, seeing as Cyril had clearly been able to recognize Shadar as something other than Drosil... but that could have meant anything. With Shadar's appearance, Kori was almost expecting another massive figure in armor, but Drosil was... relatively normal, despite the the unique twists to his appearance in the form of his hair and eyes. These initial thoughts didn't even take his personality into account however, and when the shift from Shadar to Drosil became so evident, so quickly... The Queen simply couldn't help herself.

It was Kori's turn to laugh, though she tried to contain it as best as she could. She was silent for a few moments, but as Drosil finally came to a defeated stop she finally began to chuckle and then laugh in clear, pealing tones. It lasted for a few seconds before she managed to calm herself once again, one hand coming up to gently cover her mouth as she settled down. Her eyes had closed in her mirth, but as her laughter came to a close they opened once more as she lowered her hand and smiled at Drosil.

"Please, Drosil, don't harm yourself any more, or think any less of yourself. You were thrust into this suddenly after all, and I can understand your confusion. Just take a moment to collect yourself, I insist."

The Queen did not mention that the moment would work in her favor as well. She continued to smile as she moved, once again going to sit down on the opposite end of the bench that Drosil sat upon, watching the fountain briefly as she collected her thoughts once more before she turned to look at him.

Unlike Shadar, she would actually be able to see Drosil's expression most of the time. This would be invaluable when it came to conversation.

"I already know a little bit about your brother, but I'm afraid I don't know anything about you. You'll have to forgive me for that, and forgive me for asking you to give me a little about yourself when you're ready to. And I'll also ask you the same question that I posed to Shadar that he never quite answered: What will you do next, Drosil?"

"What is there to say about me, I'm just a Jasian mage looking to solve the mysteries of the universe . . . and find the secrets to all magic. . . and try to find away to meet my divine parent . . .and lastly . . . I don't know, find love. So yeah, nothing to special, though I feel one of those things contradicts the others." Drosil spoke slowly, growing more confident and comfortable with every word spoken. As such, since sitting around doing nothing was terribly boring, he quickly got up at flitted about the garden, calling forth small fae-like creatures to help heal the plants as he began to collect some ingredients here and there. A few of these small creatures, humanoid in their nubile forms but possessing bodies green as the leaves that surrounding them, would dance around the queen, one attempting to braid her hair, all while singing in a tongue that sounded like a breeze moving through a gentle plain. Potion making wasn't his forte, but he was always eager to try new things, plus what he did no how to make were some very strong hallucinogenic drugs that he found very relaxing and fun to take from time to time . . to time . . . to time. Okay, so he may have had a slight problem with addiction in the past, but he was fine now. He'd been clean for . . . 5 months? No, just one, but that was cause enough to celebrate, right? Moving on from that, he suddenly remembered that he was in the middle of a conversation, one which he'd rudely interrupted with silence for about 3 minutes.

"Ahem, sorry your majesty, I tend to get easily distracted by things even at the best of times. Anyway, if you wish to know about me, I'm always eager to tell, especially since you know my secret. It's been so long since I've been able to talk to someone about, not since we were taken from the orphanage really. Well, I guess Shadar counts as someone, but we can't really talk to each other. I've never even seen him, heard his voice, just his pictures and what not. He's really good as well, you should ask him to do your portrait sometime, as I'm sure it'll put your best court painter to shame. Back to the topic, we've only ever communicated from writing each other notes and memories, though memories from one another are weird. We get the sense of everything, what people look like, what been going on, and all tat, but when it comes to each other, we don't have a sense of how one of us feels about what's going on, and anytime we'd see each others forms, all I see if an inky blackness and all he sees is a shiny light."

Drosil's voice took a rather depressed tone as he talked about his brother, unable to stop thinking about how close he was to Shadar, yet how far away his brother seemed to be. It was the weirdest feeling to him, how much he felt like he knew Shadar, and yet, how much he felt like he didn't know at the same time. However, he was quick to throw those thoughts out of his head, not wanting to focus on sadness when he was entertaining a guest, nevermind if he was the guest in this instance. "Have you ever been to Jasi, your majesty, it's a beautiful place, full of so many sights, sounds, and wonders. Magic and technology are in such an abundance that it's a paradise for those inclined to such fields. . . or at least, it would be if it wasn't for some noble families being lying, cheating, backstabbing bastards who love to take the credit for the discoveries that some have worked their whole lives on, only to have these entitled piece of steaming dung to swoop in and . . ." Drosil took a breath to calm himself, knuckles having turned white around his staff as he clenched in anger. Once he felt suitably calmed down, he gave turned to face the Queen, giving a low bow of apology. "I'm sorry your majesty, I lost my temper and utter such vulgarities in your presence. i do hope I have not offended, but . . . let's just say that I have many problems with the aristocracy in my homeland and the ay they handle things. But, now isn't the time to discuss it."

Rising from his bow, Drosil walked up, recalling the nymphs with a whispered word and in the same breath, causing a seat of stone to rise up a little ways in front of Kori. Taking a seat, he took his staff and presented it to the Queen to take, giving her a smile as if to say 'go ahead, you know you want to'. "This staff was off my own creation, using the ability given to all Divineborn, the power of Creation. I specialize in magical items, my brother in the more mundane weapons of the warrior, such as his greatsword, but we both made our weapons to represent us in a way. This staff is, in it's very essence, a representation of my soul. Oh, and don't worry about breaking it, you could drop a boulder on this thing and it wouldn't get a scratch." Once the Queen took or refused his offer, he would then turn his full attention on her, a strange calm entering his features as he analyzed her, seeming to almost stare through her in a way. His golden-green eyes seemed to dance with an inner fire that, if gazed into, would entrance and hypnotize those who looked into their depths. The colors would seemed to slowly meld together, spinning around the dark void off the pupil, faster and faster until it was like a brilliant typhoon of iridescence dancing within his sockets. It would hold her until he broke the spell with his voice, inquisitive, yet gentle, like the prodding of a bird on a windowsill in the early morning.

"I've talked about myself in length, and I apologize if I have bored or otherwised bothered you. Also, if you feel it with in my position to do so, may I ask you a few questions, your majesty?"

Kori, Queen of Barcea

The same respect that the Queen had given to Shadar (and everyone else for that matter) was given to Drosil. Quietly she listened to what he had to say about himself initially, though there wasn't much to hear to begin with. Instead she watched, her eyes drawn away by the strange fae creatures that Drosil began to summon. They were not quite like anything the Queen had seen before, and as she examined them she didn't seem to mind the minutes that ticked by in silence, though she certainly became aware of them. Thankfully, Drosil returned to his senses before she felt the need to clear her throat, and once more her focus went back to him as he got more into the flow of talking.

It had been awhile since she had met a romantic in the fullest sense of the word, and it was a fairly different experience. The details he gave her continued to fill in her understanding of the two brothers, and add more to the bigger picture she was trying to make about the two of them, and where they came from. There was certainly a sadness to both of their lives, something she would never quite be able to understand considering their situation though it would not keep her from trying. The transition in his speech as he talked about Jasi surprised her, but beyond her initially startled expression she gave no other reaction, just smiling a little and giving a nod.

When the staff was presented to her, her eyes widened a little in surprise before she reached forwards to take it. Despite his reassurances that she couldn't break it, she still held it carefully as she looked it over. To Kori, a Creation may as well have been an object of religious reverence; in her hands she held something that was a piece of Divine power in itself. With how carefully she looked it over, she didn't even notice his stare towards her, which perhaps was fortunate; she only looked up as he spoke, and she smiled towards him, holding the Creation carefully back to the Creator.

"You may, Drosil, but don't think I have forgotten that you too have yet to answer one of my questions."

Drosil blinked, not comprehending quite what Kori was talking about until it hit him, his eyes widening as he slapped his hand against his forehead. Taking the staff in hand, he ran a finger around the crystalline sphere that topped the Creation, feeling the magical pulse of the material underneath, letting it flow through him as he tried to think of how he should answer her and what question he should ask first.

"I assume you mean when you asked what I planned to do next, in which case I say that following Cyril to Gurata seems an interesting venture. I've never been there in my travels, so it should prove quite interesting. Besides… anyone who's would use such underhanded tactics as to attack a defenseless village to incite the senseless storm of war… I can't stand by and not try to assist you in the endeavor as best as I can… if you would have me, that is." Once again, a tone of darkness had crept into Drosil voice, his eyes seeming to shift violently between the colors presented while the crystal darkened momentarily to emphasize the intensity of his brief change in mood. But, it was gone as soon as it came as he calmed himself with a few breaths.

"Anyway, for my first question, I feel the need to inquire about your younger sister's condition? Is she truly blind or is there some other affliction affecting her sight? I ask because I can't understand why your brother would take his blind sister on a patrol. Good as I'm sure he is with a blade, I wouldn't dare to take such a gamble in case bandits or other such dangers happen to strike."

As Drosil finally answered the question that she had asked both brothers, the Queen seemed to relax some. The answer was the one she was looking for, and though Shadar seemed to be much more neutral to the situation as a whole, Drosil would hopefully continue to make sure that both brothers were in the right place at the right time.

"I'm sure Cyril will appreciate the help, so I thank you for it. Yes, Ayano is blind, but she makes up for it in other ways. In the simplest terms, she seems to sense color, especially through taste and smell. She has an awareness that the rest of us don't have then, and may have in fact been one of the first aware of Hillsborough as you approached."

"Hmm, Interesting. I wonder if there's any relation between her ability and that of the fortune teller… wait a min- FORTUNE TELLER!!!" Drosil bolted straight up, and nearly bolted out of the garden after his loud realization, but stopped himself in mid run, letting out a small cough as he seated himself, his face taking on a light dusting as he looked to the side. "My apologies, your Majesty, I, uh, have been very much interested in finding fortune tellers since my career began. I feel a connection with those who can see into the strings of fate, as I believe these people also bear a connection to my Divine parent, whose gender is as unknown to me as to everyone else and is another mystery I hope to solve someday. That being said, it would be rude of me to, uh well, do what I just did, so I'll just be patient and talk to her at a later date. Yeah, I can do that… Definitely."

"So, now that you've answered the serious questions, I'll ask a few more that are just things I like to ask people I meet when I have the time? I find humanity in its entirety to be so interesting in its diversity of character. So, I ask you, what is it you love about life? What is the greatest love in your life? What would you do to protect them? What is your opinion on magic, and finally, what is your opinion on the Divines? I myself find them fascinating, but do not engage in their worship, while my brother has . . . issues that he needs to sort out between himself and our father, and by proxy, all of the Divine. I once asked him what he'd do once I found our parent, and his first response was something along the lines of 'Seeing whether or not they possessed any… well, you know, with a swift kick between the legs'. Needless to say, Shadar is not an avid worshipper of the Divines either, and harbors an innate dislike of those who are very obvious with their beliefs. This has led to several… conflicts that have gotten us kicked out of many a town."

Drosil was certainly a quick talker. Already, the Queen had caught onto the fact that the best option was to simply let the Jasian talk himself to a stop, saying everything he wanted to say at the moment in one long, ongoing burst. For a moment she thought she had lost her conversation partner, but he came back to continue what seemed to be turning into a casual interrogation of her. She didn't seem to mind though, sitting back to rest lightly against the back of the bench as she turned over the questions briefly in her mind.

It seemed to be fortunate that she was here, for she wasn't sure how the Diviner would be able to handle the extremely curious Divineborn.

"I love the peace within life, Drosil. The quiet, the togetherness of it. Though it may be interrupted, I believe that life will always return to that stable piece. My greatest loves, though, would surely be my brother and sister, and I would do anything to protect them if they needed me to. On magic... I believe it is a gift that should be cherished, and I recognize the Divines for what they are, and worship a few of them; Ambrosia in particular, but also Silvae and Yumio. I do not hold your lack of religion against you and your brother, though. I understand your situation is very different from mine."

"I should expect no less from a person of your stature. I wish all nobles were like you, your majesty, but alas, that is often not the case. This country is lucky to have such a kind and understanding ruler such as yourself." Drosil finger began to type out a short rhythm along the side of his staff, trying to think of some more questions to ask. "Does your majesty happen to have any Court mages or researchers of ancient histories and magical theory that I can speak to? I wish to know more about the area we're going to and Barcea as a whole, as it'll help me to find ruins that could hold untold treasure troves of knowledge . . . and the occasional subterranean automatons, as your brother can surely tell you. Also, if you have any magical text that you finest have yet to decipher for whatever reason, I'd be glad to give you my services as I happen to be somewhat an expert in that field."

The Queen blinked, before she shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Drosil, but we don't have anything like that. Barcea has always... outsourced such issues elsewhere. I apologize if that makes your night a little more boring than you expected it to be. However, there is a library within these walls, so I hope that's enough of a substitute for you. Is there anything else you wish to ask of me?" The Queen gave no explanation as to what she meant by 'outsourcing.'

"Hmm, too bad, I was hoping that I'd have an opportunity to learn something amazing. Not to knock your library, of course, but deciphering ancient text is a wonder on to itself. So, your majesty, I believe that's all I really wished to ask you. Do you have any final questions for me, as I feel I've kept you for much longer then I should have with my incessant babbling. If there's nothing else, however, I believe I should call Shadar back so as not to draw suspicion and curiosity, wouldn't you agree?"

Kori gave him another smile as she nodded. "Perhaps one day we'll find a text to your liking, but for now there are none here. I have no more questions for you at the moment, so please do what you think is necessary." She began to stand then, still smiling. "It was good to meet you, Drosil. Rest well."

Drosil returned the grin with one of his own, standing up and giving a low bow to the queen as a miasma of shadows began to crawl up his form, slowly consuming him in a tempest of darkness.

"The pleasure was all mine, your majesty, and I do hope we meet again someday." He tapped his staff to the ground, a low whisper carving a message into the ground in front of him before he was completely cloaked in storming shadows. Within seconds, the darkness coalesced into the recognizable form of Shadar, who opened his glowing white eyes already set in their usual state of indifference to all around him. His gaze went down to the message in the ground, which was simply a note to go into the library and get books for the journey. "Damn bookworm, he is, can't have a single second without some sort of mental stimulation."

Shadar sighed, before turning to the queen, giving a small nod towards her. It showed that he held the tiniest embers of true respect for the monarch, but that was more than what the armored figure shared with most people. "Lead the way to my chambers, if you would be so inclined, and direction to the library would also be appreciated. I promise to get them back to you if we return from this venture."

The Queen gave Shadar the same smile she had given Drosil, turning to begin to walk and lead him along. "This way, if you would please."

Cyril, Calypso, and Company

The Prince of Barcea was surprised at Joy's quick departure. It came so suddenly, so quickly that Cyril was completely taken off guard by it, as was everyone else in the room; considering their previous attachment though, it was the Prince and Princess who were affected the most. Briefly, Cyril's jaw dropped slightly as Joy suddenly left, and Ayano turned her head suddenly (which caused Diane to suddenly turn as well, so as to keep the brush from ripping through the Princess' hair). For a moment, Cyril didn't say anything, and then he snapped back into reality as he looked to the Sentinels once more, who were all already looking back to him once again.

"Uh, never mind then. Later I suppose. Just get plenty of rest tonight, and be ready for tomorrow. If you'll excuse me." With that, he quickly began to walk out as well, gently passing by Calypso and Etsuko as he said, "Excuse me. Good night." Etsuko looked up from where she had been slumped against Calypso's arm. She was barely awake for Joy's sudden departure, though from what she could tell by the look on the Prince and Princess' face, along with the general atmosphere of the room, something wasn't right. All she could do was nod slowly and watch as Cyril went looking, possibly, for Joy. She wore a concerned look and would've gone after him, had it not been for her exhausted state of mind and the fact that she barely knew him. Calypso meanwhile gave Cyril a nod, before looking to Etsuko; she knew her friend was tired, and was intent on getting her to her room soon.

He stepped out into the hallway, glancing in both directions. Despite Joy's limp (something he had yet to ask her about, and would have to make sure), the woman was already long gone, and the disappointment was clear on Cyril's face. After a moment of just standing there, trying to figure out what had happened, he simply shook his head and continued his way down the hallway, towards where he would be able to cross over to the inner circle to head to his own room.

---

A Dream

They were formless, less than even a thought. Where they were was neither light nor dark, some sort of place beyond even the Void. Piece by piece they became more, though not physically. Instead it was their mind that trembled, struggled, and then blossomed into something more, something... expansive. Something about this felt familiar to them, though what could perhaps be described as its current 'majority' had no idea why.

This feeling of understanding quickly faded and was locked away as, bit by bit, they began to take physical form. Though it pleased the current 'majority,' the 'minority' was not happy with the change even as it began to doze (rather than slumber as before). Despite its pleasure with the change in circumstances, they felt a tint of confusion about their body; for some reason they couldn't quite place, it felt... different.

As they formed physically, so did the world around them. Fragments collected together in deep hues of red and black that began to solidify into some form of room. The other details were lost to them in that moment, as they were stitching together far too slowly and were completely overshadowed by the figure that exploded into existence in front of them.

The figure was small, but seemed to float above the ground that was forming beneath it. The torso and head had completely formed in shape, the limbs not quite so as small, smooth fragments continued to slowly build up its form beyond its sudden emergence (unlike the ragged fragments that built the rest of the room all around). Details were once more lost upon them, as the figure seemed to radiate red in dark, heavy pulses that threatened to overwhelm everything else even as they simply endured. The source of these pulses seemed to come from a deep black within the figure.

The incomplete arm stretched forwards to them, and though they might not have been able to see it they still felt a hand gently resting upon what was to be their face. This touch was followed by a gentle murmur, which increased in volume to words every so often:

"... much too early to... But... with you..."

The world and figure simply dissolved away in that moment, becoming something more than black as they lost even the idea of memory once more.

---

The Next Day - Morning Preparations

Cyril woke at dawn the next morning, as did the rest of the Sentinels. While Diane busied herself with waking up and helping Ayano prepare for the coming trip and the rest of the Sentinels went about moving their packs towards the main entrance of the castle and the stables, Cyril made his way to the armored figure's room to wake up the... individual personally. He brought his hand up to knock firmly on the door three times, raising his voice to speak.

"We're getting ready to leave. Are you prepared?"

The door opened to reveal Shadar, who walked out with hardly a word of greeting, not being much of a morning person in the slightest. He detested the thought of having to get up any earlier than noon, and it always left him in a sour mood. Well, more sour than is the norm.

"Keep your pants on, I'm up. Have been for a while . . . reading and such." Looking past Shadar's large frame, he'd see that the floor was somewhat covered with several piles of literary text. Knowing his brother, Shadar had gone through the trouble of carry approximately half the libraries contents to the room, which his brother had then proceeded to nearly blaze through the entire night until Cyril knocked on the door, using magic to help him accomplish the feat. He finished most of them, but the rest would have to come with him on the trip. "So, lead the way, oh noble prince, so we can go freeze our asses off in the north. Hopefully these tribesman our more hospitable than their surroundings, though I highly doubt that for some reason."

Though the Queen had informed the Prince that the figure could be trusted and that Drosil was alright and nearby, Cyril had no idea what that meant. Still, he trusted his sister, and because of that he gave the figure a nod. "Right... Stables are back this way. I'll walk you part way." The Prince had other preparations to take care of, which meant he left Shadar to his own devices soon enough, but the castle was easy enough to navigate.

Those Heading East

Almost as soon as Cyril had left the night before, Etsuko felt awkward being with the rest of the Sentinels and went back to where she and Calypso would be staying for the night. She could hardly remember what happened, other than the fact that as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was knocked out.

The soft light of the day came peeking through the curtains of the room, causing the Diviner to wake up. She felt rather groggy as she went about her morning routine as best as she could, and once she finished, she went and knocked on Calypso's door, to see if her companion was ready. The door was opened after a moment, Calypso standing there only half dressed and disoriented from sleep, but with her smile on her face; thankfully though she was someone to get ready quickly.

Once they both were, they wandered around the castle for a bit, the former looking for someone to thank for their hospitality. She figured that with the Sentinels leaving, they'd probably be at the entrance of the castle and led her companion there, who of course followed along willingly. It wasn't Cyril there though, as he still moving about making the final preparations; instead, it was Kori who stood there as she waited to bid everyone farewell, already dressed and completely ready for the day, and more awake than many of the Sentinels.

At the sight of the Diviner and her friend, the Queen smiled, giving them a nod. "Diviner Tanaka, Calypso, good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Etsuko felt a bit stunned to see that it was the Queen she'd be paying her respects to rather than the Prince and Princess, but whatever sleep had been creeping around in her mind was certainly gone after a few blinks. She managed to nod and smile back, though. "Yes, we did. Thank you for letting us stay in the castle for the night."

Kori smiled a little more at Etsuko's words and Calypso's wave. "Of course. It was really the least I could do. Do you know what you'll be doing next, now?"

She nodded her head once again, her own smile growing as Kori's did. "We'll be heading back to our village from here. We might stop by one or two on the way home, in case the village elders would like a reading." The question of her divination's accuracy came into mind and sent a pit into her stomach, causing her smile to falter slightly. Maybe they'd just head straight home instead...

"I wish you luck, then. Is there anything you need from me?"

"O-Oh, no! You've already done so much for us! T-Thank you for your hospitality, again. A-And we wish you and the Sentinels safety."

"Thank you, Diviner Tanaka. You'll always be welcome here." Kori's gaze was diverted slightly to the side, as Cyril approached. He carried his own travel bags, and at the sight of seeing his sister with the two guests he briefly blinked before he smiled.

"Good morning Kori, Ms. Etsuko, Ms. Calypso. Are you preparing to leave as well you two?"

Etsuko nodded her head. "Yes, we are. We're heading home for now." She didn't have the heart to mention going through other villages, not when she was doubting her abilities and the H'kelan attack on Hillsborough looming around in her head. "Thank you for letting us stay the night. We really appreciate it."

"Of course." He continued to smile, not aware of her doubts as he gave a nod. "I'll be sure to let Ayano know you said goodbye. Right now she's a little... preoccupied." Diane was still busy at work making sure Ayano was ready for such a long journey into a foreign nation, and he didn't want to possibly lose a hand by trying to interfere. "Thank you both for your help."

She smiled a bit at the mention of Ayano. "Please thank her for us as well. Stay safe, all of you."

"And you as well."

Calypso brought up her hand, giving a wave then. "Goodbye...~"

After their farewell, Etsuko began the trek outside of the castle. She let herself breathe the Capitol air, wondering when she'd be back. Chances were, with how far their village was, it wouldn't be for a while. She smiled up at Calypso then. "Ready to head home?"

Calypso gave her a nod, smiling at her friend. "Of course...~"

With that, the two continued on their way as those within the castle prepared for a very different journey... Though before they left, Calypso dragged her friend to the stables to give one last farewell to Sir Mauls-a-lot, something that would certainly wake Etsuko fully up.

The Beginning of the Departure

Just outside the castle the Sentinels began to mount up for the long ride ahead, Cyril helping his younger sister up onto the horse. After he had done so, Kori stepped forwards, gently placing her hand on Ayano's before taking Cyril's as well, smiling to the both of them as she squeezed both. As Cyril gave her a resolved nod and Ayano grabbed Kori's hand with both of hers, Kori let go and stepped away, looking to them all as she spoke and smiled.

"Good luck to you all, and thank you. We will eagerly be waiting your return here, and the good news."

Cyril pulled himself up onto his horse after Kori spoke, looking to her afterwards briefly. "We'll be back as soon as possible." He looked forwards then, and as he flicked the reins he said, "Everyone, let's go."

Beyond the walls in the city the scene was much different than it had been the day before. Already the soldiers were being gathered that morning, called from their homes to defend them. Though details were scarce, news had arrived about the attack sometime early that morning, and the mustering of arms only confirmed them. Who had done the attack, the size of it, and similar specifics weren't publicly known yet. Some thought that bandits were the culprits, and that the scale had been minimal...

But there were those who assumed H'kela was the culprit, and because of that the atmosphere was less than pleasant around the Ambassador Cade's home. Despite the gathered crowd and the murmuring, Cyril led the Sentinels to the front of the flower shop before the apartment, before dismounting. "Wait here. I'll be back soon." He made his way up the stairs to the door of the apartment, hoping that Joy was here as well; she had mentioned coming here before she had suddenly disappeared, and he had no other clues to where she might be. Mirroring the same three loud knocks that he had used earlier within the castle, perhaps out of habit, he once more brought his voice up to announce himself.

"Ambassador Cade, are you prepared to leave?"

"The Ambassador is having a mild panic attack, my Prince," said a voice. "I had informed him this morning that a carriage would not make it on the roads in Gurata and that he should only bring one light pack."

It was Joy, looking up at Cyril from the bottom of the stair. She had apparently gone out and bought a thick, dark cloak for their journey into Gurata. Her hand was wrapped around the reins of two saddled horses. One was brown and already packed for the road; the other was gray and adorned with the Cade's gemstone crest. Any hints of last night's activities had been washed away with a much needed and enjoyed bath, as well as a significant layer of dirt and grime. She had pinned her hair back to keep it from falling in her face. It made her look a bit brighter, a bit more approachable, and almost even like a respectable member of society. Unfortunately, the water had done little to wash away her general unpleasantness or change her bitter gray eyes.

"I apologize for not returning to the castle last night; the Ambassador had wanted to talk to me about his brother," she said, lying unflinchingly and without showing the slightest sign of it. "He's quite chatty. It was after dark when we were done, and he offered to let me stay in his guest room instead of walking back to the castle." The woman sighed, casting a suspicious eyes across the crowd. "We could be here for a while, I'm afraid. Before I slipped out he was assigning ranks to his clothing and muttering to them under his breath," she said. It was clear she wasn't joking.

The door creaked open. Ennis looked significantly solemn, like he had just lost somebody dear to him, and his eyes were dark and puffy.

"Prince Cyril, I...It's good to see you. I'm sorry, this day has already been quite rough," said the Ambassador as he stepped out of his door with one pack in his hand. "Could some of your men help me with my stuff? There's a few more packs inside that..."

"One pack," interrupted Joy, shooting a vicious glance at Ennis before turning her eyes back to the crowd, watching for any trouble. "Their horses are already loaded. The weight would be too much."

"Of course, you're right," said Ennis, defeated as he slung his pack over his gray horse. "Ready when you are, Prince."

The Prince, who had initially been surprised by Joy's voice from behind him and had turned to look at her, seemed to almost have expected the news she gave him about Ennis' 'dilemma.' He gave her a nod and an almost wry smirk, not at all suspicious of the lie she so easily fed him. Quietly waiting for Ennis to emerge, Cyril wasn't expecting the almost... miserable state that the Ambassador was in, eyebrows raising ever slightly in his surprise. Was this really because he couldn't bring all of his clothes with him...?

"Uh... Right." Cyril turned with a slight shake of his head, before making his way down the stairs as well to return to his own horse, pulling himself up onto the saddle. Briefly glancing to Joy and Ennis, he gave a nod before he looked back forwards. "Let's not waste any time, then. It's a long way to the border." They still had one more stop to make, and the Prince was anxious to be on the way.

Newcomers - The Caravan Guards

Arvis awoke as the rays of sun stroked his face through the gap in the curtains which he had apparently not drawn properly the previous night. He gazed across the room and noticed that his garments and equipment were still in exactly the same position he had left them; no one had been in and disturbed it or him as he slept, which was always a good sign.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath them as he got up, stretched, and removed the dagger from under his pillow before heading over to the bathroom to clean himself up. His thoughts roamed back to last night and his reunion with Lyrena, and a smile crossed his face as he cupped water from the running faucet and splashed it over his face. The timing was good because he needed something positive in his life at the moment, especially since his quest to join the Sentinels had met a hiccup recently and he had missed a major opportunity to unite with them and show them what he could do. However, one hiccup wasn't going to sway him from his lifelong dream; another chance would come and he would just have to listen out for it.

He heard a small knock on the door as he left the bathroom, he dried his face as he walked and opened the door slightly, concealing his half naked torso behind the door. Lyrena’s face beamed up at him as she greeted him with a cheery good morning and pushed past him into the room. Arvis hastily closed the door and looked down at the numerous large scars that now resided on his body, spinning on his heels and holding the face towel over his exposed abdomen as he faced Lyrena with a smile.

"Good morning, you slept well I hope."

Lyrena turned to face him, her smile still present. She ran her eyes over his once again covered body and raised an eyebrow, and he held her gaze a short while until he realized what she was trying to point out to him. He shook his head and scrambled around for his undershirt, and upon finding it he turned around (dropping the towel as he did so) to pull the shirt over his head. Lyrena chuckled at his awkwardness before she replied.

"I did, thank you. I can tell you did also, you haven't fully awoken yet...." she laughed. "I have ordered breakfast downstairs, and it should be ready shortly so, um, when you're ready just head down to the lounge... I'll just… I'll just meet you there." She flashed a smile. She had to get out of there before she did something she was sure she would regret. Brushing her beautiful blonde hair back over her shoulder with her hand, she made her exit.

Arvis felt it too; there was something electric between them, something he hadn't experienced before. He knew she felt it too because she was never shy and had never stumbled over her words as she had just then. He shook his head and finished clothing and arming himself before heading downstairs to the lounge.

Lyrena had been sitting in the comfortable armchairs in the near corner as Arvis entered the lounge. She was looking intently out of the window when he approached, but shifted her gaze to him as he took a seat. "I ordered your favorite." she announced as her ever present smile grew wider, and Arvis raised an eyebrow at her.

"Buttered Pancakes...? Blueberry compote….? With syrup? A side of seasoned sausages sliced over egg bread…?” He watched as she nodded after each item he mentioned. "You remembered, thank you very much. You know, I didn't realize they did that here."

"They don't, but I made a special request. We have a big day today, something of a surprise if you like. Anyway I'm sure you will enjoy it, and we're going to need a big breakfast."

As the two within the Gilded Horn both began and finished up their breakfast, the group of Sentinels and their new companions continued their way through the streets. The closer they got to the outer walls, the more crowded things became; more and more soldiers and guards could be seen, preparing to go to the defense of Barcea.

At the inn, Cyril once again brought the company to a halt, removing himself from the saddle. "Wait here, I'll only be a moment." He passed his way through the door of the inn with ease, taking a few steps in as he looked around. His presence drew attention, it being a surprise visit; but thanks to the expression on the Prince's face, the people kept quiet as he slowly looked around the common room, hands resting on his sides as he scanned the room for Lyrena.

Just before this as Lyrena finished her breakfast, she called over the concierge and requested he bring their belongings downstairs. He politely obliged and scurried off out of the lounge. She watched as the young man hurriedly made his way upstairs before ordering a second cup of tea. Meanwhile Arvis placed his cutlery down the plate before him as he finished the last of his morning meal, before he looked up at Lyrena and smiled.
"You know I hoped I'd see you again. It was a tough decision to make, and right now I wonder if it was even worth it." He said.

Lyrena returned his smile, she made a half move to touch his hand but withdrew it instantly; instead she smiled more brightly and looked for the waiter who would bring her tea over, though he wasn’t ready yet. "Don't say that Arvis, every decision we make defines who we are. I see a young man stronger and wiser than most; you have already grown so much in the few months you've been away..." She flashed an expression of sadness but quickly recovered. "...Much like myself, I've..."

She cut off as she saw a figure enter the Inn’s lobby. The young man was dressed in the most exquisite garments and armor and she recognized him instantly. In that moment her tea was then placed at the table before her as the waiter blindsided her, almost making her jump out of her skin.

"Arvis, we need to finish up here... Our escort is here." she added as she took a long sip of her tea. With that final sip she stood from her seat, watching as Arvis did the same. She made her way out of the lounge and greeted Cyril with a deep curtsey.

"Your Highness, a pleasure to see you again. May I introduce a friend?" she asked as she stepped aside for Arvis, whose eyebrows raised in surprise as he noticed who Lyrena was talking to. He stepped forward to bow deeply.

"Your Highness, it is an honor to meet you. Arvis Welwyn Rann of Gotenmor village, sir. Requesting permission to accompany His highness and Miss Stomfort on your quest." he announced, standing by Lyrena’s side as he awaited the response of the Prince.

On Lyrena's approach, the movement drew the Prince's gaze. Briefly he gave the woman a smile, though it didn't last very long and was constantly affected by his serious demeanor. "Good morning, Lyrena." He gave her a nod after her greeting, but even before he could ask who her friend was the young man was introducing himself. The Prince slowly looked him up and down, clearly sizing him up. He was another Barcean, that much was for certain, and another volunteer. He glanced back and forth between the two of them before he spoke, making sure to watch their reactions to what he said next.

"I have no qualms with it, but you two may. The plans are bigger than we initially realized; we're going to be heading to Gurata. Are you two prepared to do that?"

Arvis instinctively looked toward Lyrena. Though he was more than happy to be going, he didn’t want to force her to if she wasn't happy about it. Lyrena met his eyes and gave him an approving nod accompanied by a smile.

"Gurata is a harsh and unforgiving land, filled with not only deadly creatures but deadly people too..." Arvis spoke as though he found the job too dangerous for them before he cut himself off, and then looked back to the Prince and smiled.

"You're going to need all the help you can get, we're in." He bowed deeply to the Prince as he finished. Looking out of the front window Arvis noticed a convoy of horses, where thereere only two horses unmanned. The first wore luscious garments in Barcean colors, and was clearly the Prince’s horse. The second was dressed how one would imagine a travelling horse to, again in Barcean colors; that one must be for Lyrena. Luckily Arvis had his own horse.

"Your Highness, please waste neither time nor worry for I have a horse of my own that I will ride. If time is of the essence, I am ready to depart, Your Highness." He said bowing deeply again, before going to scoop up his belongings. He headed for the smaller door to the right hand side of the room that led him to the stables, moving down the line looking for Archibald and smiling when he met the large horse’s gaze.

"How are we doing buddy, ready for a journey into the unknown?" he asked the horse.

He geared up and prepped Archibald for the journey before leading him out of the stable. Gurata was so cold it was known to be deadly, so Arvis stopped at the stable hand and purchased a large fur for his horse to wear once they reached the bitter cold of Gurata. Packing this onto the horse’s carry bag, he mounted Archibald, placing his feet in the stirrups before he joined the back of the convoy, where he was pleased to see Lyrena already packed, geared and waiting.

This felt good; he was going on a quest with the Prince and his Sentinels. This was what he had been waiting for, and he was going to get the chance to show the Prince what he could do. The best part was having Lyrena around to both help him and keep him company. He felt the warmth inside him grow again since being in her company, and though he still wasn't entirely sure what it meant he was sure he would know more before this quest was through.

He fell in rank, volunteering to take the rear guard and awaited the order to move out.

The Road North

With their new members and the citizens of Barcea watching them with hope, the group finally made their exit from the Capitol and turned their way north. Their last glimpse of the Capitol would be its tall walls, and the soldiers that were already gathering to begin marching towards the western border in its entirety. It drew to mind the fact that, once again, war had returned to the East. It gave the otherwise hopeful sight of the Capitol a sour, unpleasant turn.

The roads north actually briefly angled to the northwest initially, before turning more directly towards the Guratan nation. In front of them was a trek of at least a day and a half, but it would more than likely be two days if one were to account for any delays, and this is what Cyril expected. The plan, as he outlined it just after they left the Capitol, was to reach one of the villages along the border by nightfall to not only rest there but buy the any supplies they might not have already had for Gurata, before continuing their way on into the northern nation.

What Cyril did not mention was that they would probably pass by many destroyed villages along the way, but he didn't have to. Their initial heading into the northwest brought them into the curve that the H'kelan forces had targeted, and before midday they had already passed three destroyed villages. Cyril made sure to give them a wide berth whenever they came into sight, taking them off the road to cut around them through the rolling fields of Barcea. Every time they passed by one an angry look would pass over the Prince's face, but it would quickly melt away as he hid his feelings and briefly closed his eyes as he inhaled and exhaled.

As midday approached and the fourth village came into sight, Cyril did his best not to even look as he prepared to take them off the road once again. However, the brief glance out of the corner of his eye made him come to a complete stop, a shocked look coming over his face as he looked ahead. "What in the Hell..."

Without any sort of explanation, the Prince suddenly spurred his horse into a full gallop, heading straight towards the village. Despite their initial confusion the Sentinels followed, but the reason why came to them soon enough: the village, though it had been undoubtedly in the path of the H'kelan forces, was unharmed. There was not a sign of even a single burned home or a destroyed crop, but more importantly the people within could easily be seen from the distance, living as they would any day.

As the Prince came to a stop after galloping into the village, a crowd began to form and a confused clamor rose. As the Sentinels caught up and the Prince struggled to hear everything going on around him, he caught snatches of everything from greetings like, "Hail, Prince" to questions such as, "What's happening?! There were H'kelans, and-" Whatever else was said by that one particular woman was lost in the clamor, and Cyril had to raise his voice above the entire crowd to ask his own question:

"How... How did you survive?"

It was a simple, short question, but it was all he could manage. Still, it brought silence to everyone as the villagers looked back and forth to try and find the words to explain what had happened.

Lora Kadar

At the back of the crowd Lora leaned down, straightening the boy's jacket and giving him a quick smile in the hopes it would lift his own. "Stay right here, okay? I have to talk to someone, and then I'll come right back. Alright?"

He nodded, his lips still tugged into a frown as she patted his cheek.

She turned and reached out to the nearest villager, inclining her head to the boy and asking them to watch him until she returned. Distracted and confused they nodded and moved to him, and she began her push through the people.

They were all crowded in the street between the houses in the middle of town, where they had gathered first in surprise, then in fear, and now in shocked confusion. The events from the previous day were still far too present in everyone’s mind. The houses around them were untouched, and all of them were alive and uninjured. The blood that was caked in with the mud below their feet was not theirs—they had been spared, and it was surely the work of an angel. Specifically, two angels, in the way of a man and a woman with spearing bones and curved slices. Odd and a little disturbing angels, but gracious and heroic nonetheless.

She slid between the last few people in the crowd, who barely noticed her in their state of confusion over the Prince's appearance and their recent salvation. She stepped forward before his steed and entered a deep bow, her eyes creeping back to him although the she remained facing the ground. She had never known more than hazy memories of blurry glimpses of the Serio family, and the sight of the grown prince in blue and white spurred an unexpected feeling of nostalgia that she desperately grasped at.

She swallowed, searching behind memories that were more like dreams for her voice. "Your majesty."

Since the Prince's question, the crowd had fallen silent, and at her greeting there was a stirring behind her. She could hear people shuffling and pressing closer to listen to whatever explanation she gave, any insight that would make heads or tails of why they were all still breathing. Her confusion was as strong as theirs, but no one else seemed of any mind to describe what had happened.

She straightened, eyes focused as her mouth tried out different words to find where to start. “If—If I may…There were two people—Well, there were H’kelans—" She broke off, taking a deep breath and collecting herself. “There was an attack, and two people—two angels rose up to save the village. And then they disappeared.”

---

She hadn’t been there when it started. She had been riding past the smoldering villages, one after the next, when she had found the one still standing. She could see it was intact before she could hear the struggles, and she galloped down the road into town. The closer she got the clearer the people became, screaming and fleeing from the center of town. H’kelan soldiers, dressed in ochre and armor and a desperation for destruction were targeting something. They gathered in a large group, surrounding and attacking, but whatever or whoever was in the middle was putting up a hell of a fight.

Lora had just gotten close enough to spot a strange blade flying in the fight when her horse reared and the world tilted. She gripped Pax tightly with her thighs and pushed him off to the side, regaining her balance and spotting the little boy that had run out in front of them. Pax returned to the ground and the boy stood frozen, dark eyes wide on her. She dismounted in a quick motion and knelt, reaching out for him. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

He melted with her touch, gulping down air and nodding.

Her eyes skirted over him, in a dirty shirt and worse for wear shoes, and there was no way he was older than seven or eight. She could see the fight still in full swing barely an acre away over his shoulder, and her grip on his arm tightened. “You shouldn’t be out here—where’s your family?”

His eyes moved past her and the teary panic painting them was clear. His head began to shake, eyes darting around the street. “My mom—I don’t know.” He looked back at her; something inside her constricted. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” he cried.

“It’s okay, it’s okay—“ she said, fighting to be heard over his cries. “It’s okay!” She grabbed his face, her thumb wiping at a tear as he quieted. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” she reassured, to a soundtrack of screams and clashing swords. But evidence to the contrary became all too evident in the next second, when fear filled his eyes again and Pax shrieked and she whirled to find a soldier bearing down on her. His sword was raised and there wasn’t time to run or move or scream, only a brief second to wonder when she had gotten so good at lying.

Or maybe, she hadn’t. The sword disappeared from his arm as he swung down, and surprise filled his expression before someone grabbed him and whirled him around. He yelled and went to attack, but they were quicker and Lora caught a flash of white before he cried out and fell to the side.

Lora was met with a short but not slight woman, young and muscled and extremely disgruntled. Black pigtails whipped around as she cut a glare at Lora, an unnerving crimson searing right through her. Lora wavered under her stare, curling in and pulling back slightly. A groan sounded from the soldier, and the stare was broken. The woman turned to the attacker and raised what looked like a whip fashioned after a spinal cord, bringing it down with a crack. Lora spun to the boy, grabbing his hand and climbing off the ground to drag him with her as she fled. Her other hand still clutched her reins and Pax whinnied his worry as he followed after them. She ran down an alley between the buildings, startling a group of villagers who huddled there in frightened curiosity. They calmed when no H’kelan followed her down the way, and she stopped close to them to sit the boy down and hand Pax to him: telling him to hold still and stay put, and she would be right back and it was going to be okay.

The sounds of fear and panic were quieting and so were the sounds of the fight—as Lora approached the outlet something ran past on the street, far too quick for her eyes to follow. She hesitated, and then continued moving forward, reaching the corner of the alley and peering out of it.

The scene on the street was unexpected, if not almost unfeasible.

H’kelans were grabbing each other, pulling each other off the ground and leaning on shoulders and leaving bloodstains in their wake as they retreated. A mass the same size as the one she had seen when she first rode in was running from the town, tripping and bleeding but no one left behind. No bodies on the ground, no one more than sufficiently injured. And the point they were running from—the woman who had saved her and a man of the same height in the middle of town. Their backs were to her as they watched the retreat and spoke quietly. Lora watched the woman tuck her disturbingly creative whip somewhere on her front and the man follow suit with his own curved blade.

Lora turned back to the alley and ran down it, a grin splitting over her face. “They’re retreating, they’re leaving!” she called. The boy stood up and the villagers started, disbelief stirring through them. She smiled and reached him, bending down to his height and smiling. “They’re going, we’re okay. You’re okay, and I’m sure your mom is too. Do you want to go find her?”

He nodded, and she took the reins and his hand back, following the rest of the crowd cautiously out of the alley. The fresh silence in the village was deafening, and most of the town had spilled out onto the street at the awareness that their attackers were gone. But the villagers were now the only ones on the street—their saviors were gone. Lora turned and searched down the whole street as far as she could see, but they had simply disappeared.

For the rest of the day she had helped the boy search for his mother, and when no clues turned up she had promised to stay with him in his house and wait for her to come back. It had taken a while but she soon heard a woman calling for her child, and at the sound the boy perked up and ran to the door. The two reunited and gratitude was shown to Lora in the way of dinner and a soft spread to sleep on, which Lora politely declined until the boy pulled some Class A puppy eyes and asked her to stay. The next morning had found them all well and the town returned to normal. The mother set off to work with Lora’s promise to entertain her son while she was out. And that was what she had been doing, until the prince had rode into town and called their attention.

---

“I don’t know where they went, Sir,” she added after the story of what she had seen. “They just vanished, they didn’t stick around at all. As soon as they knew the H’kelans wouldn’t come back…I think they were just passing through, in the right place at the right time—at least for this village. I don’t think anyone knows who they were, and I’m not sure it really matters. They were here, and they saved all of us. The chance of that…angels or not, someone was looking out for this village.”

They had talked that morning, after Joy had freshened herself up but before his spirits had been crushed by the realities of traveling North in a cart designed to carry all of his necessities and then some. Ennis had tried to make the conversation as pleasant as possible, but he quickly learned that the prepped pageantry of his polite proposition did not work well with the woman. If anything, it spurred and provoked her, sending the hungover woman into a tirade of graphic threats that made Ennis truly thankful that he had confiscated her arms the night before. Inevitably, his hand was forced to cast one of his spells; thankfully, he had a memory of just the right one. Joy’s threats were turned into the dribbling goos and gahs of an infant. The sound of her voice speaking in tongues threw her off of her verbal assault, allowing enough time for Ennis to make his point. In short, they needed each other.

During her rant, she had called it blackmail. Ennis hated that word. He had said it was not blackmail, really, but an act of mutual cooperation. He needed someone who would be loyal to him, someone who could watch his back, and, with the absence of his steward Yan, someone who would help him to, bluntly, live. Ennis could hardly take care of himself in civilization; he would not know the first step of survival when traveling in the wilds and he did not fool himself that the Sentinels would care about the well-being of a H’kelan Ambassador. He knew they wouldn’t actually let him die, or at least he believed that, but he doubted they’d care about him maintaining a certain proper quality of life. And he needed someone to cook for him, too, but enough of that. In short, he needed someone to guard him.

He felt that Joy was the ideal person to do so. Not because she looked the toughest (that honored would belong to the large and foreboding Shadar) nor because she seemed the most sympathetic towards him (she actively seemed to despise him the most, actually, although he doubted the others were thrilled about having a H’kelan with them). No, Joy was the right candidate because she needed him as much as he needed her. Ennis, after all, was guarding the one secret that could spell the end to the woman’s life, or at least her happy reunion with the Serio family. And she did have a certain talent for avoiding danger that would prove useful. Ennis had personally witnessed the woman escape death by a squad of the Kirun’s guards after a botched attempt to burglarize a lone traveling merchant.

So, in short, if Joy kept Ennis alive then her secret career as a bandit was kept safe with him; if she allowed him to die than a copy of his will would certainly find its way to the Queen of Barcea, complete with an expose on the former bandit. As long as he was alive, they both won. So, mutualism, not blackmail. Besides, she was a wanted criminal in the Kirun. As its future ruler, her life was rightfully his to control. Ennis was pleased to see that Joy was much more understanding once she was able to form proper sentences again. And then she had taken whatever feeling of satisfaction he held and stomped it underfoot.

His back hurt. His hips ached. His stomach growled in pain. He was dusty. He was dirty. The road ahead seemed to lead on for miles, and although they were heading up into the allegedly chilly North the sun beat down on him and drenched him in sweat. He stunk. The horses stunk. The outdoors stunk. Life stunk. He gave the woman next to him a look of pure malice. She showed no signs of his weariness. This was her fault; a final act of defiance against him before she fully submitted to their joint beneficiary argument, perhaps? Ennis pulled his hat off of his head, his blonde hair falling loosely around his face as he furiously fanned himself. As they passed by sacked village after sacked village he would make a sound of quiet disappointment. At first it was a simple, quiet whimper. By the third village it was a loud, exasperated, and overly dramatic groan.

“Whining will not make any of this easier, Cade,” said Joy, tersely.

The woman did not look towards Ennis, but he knew there was contempt on her face. Truly, it would be so much easier on the both of them if she just accepted the situation that they were in. He was quite a likable fellow once you took the time to know him, or at least Ennis thought as much.

“I don’t see why we could not have taken the carriage until we got to Gurata,” said Ennis, huffing and grunting between each word. Although riding horseback was not as relaxing as it seemed, the pace they were keeping was not one that would tire any normally fit traveler. An out-of-shape pencil pusher like Ennis, however, felt like they should have rested every hour. Gurata wasn’t going to disappear if it took them a day longer, and if it did, well, they had bigger problems on their hand than a war.

“Carriages attract bandits,” said Joy.

“Not ones guarded by a gaggle of Sentinels, some recruits, a death crawler, a...,” he paused, still not having a proper word for describing Shadar yet. Perhaps if he did not immediately pass out once they made camp he’d have the opportunity to get to properly know the man. Assuming of course he didn’t distract himself with a little bit of innocent flirting--his eyes glanced between Diana and Lyrena. He heard Joy scoff next to him. How did she!? He shot her a nervous glance, but she was looking towards the horizon. Just my imagination then, he thought. “And my personal guard,” he added with a ribbing smile. He still had not learned that Joy did not appreciate humor. “Although I suppose you would know first hand.”

“I may not know magic,” said Joy. “But I know how to make a man stop talking.”

“If I’m not mistaken, making sure that my tongue continues to wag is part of your duty now, Vesta.”

Using her old name, her real name had been his idea. He had recognized her by her face, but he knew that others could recognize the bandit by her moniker. There were plenty of Joys in the world, sure, but not nearly as many walked with a limp and armed themselves to the teeth. There was only one Vesta Debove, and she had the respect and admiration of Barcea’s royal family. A far better identity to have on the road than a shared nickname with a H’kelan and Guratan bandit.

“Then you should listen to me. The carriage was a bad idea,” said Vesta.

“Fine,” he said with a resigned sigh. Silence lingered between them as their horses continued to trot side by side down the road. Ennis looked around at the group--the one H’kelan in a bunch of Barceans and, well, wherever Shadar came from. While there was sparse conversation here and there, they all seemed like a rather somber bunch. It was quite understandable, he imagined he would not have been chattering like a schoolgirl if he was traveling by the newly formed ruins of his fellow H’kelans. He had overheard from someone that Calypso and Etsuko would not be joining them on their trek North. He was disappointed by that bit of news. Having a fortune teller would certainly have been advantageous, and the two were certainly more pleasant to look at than the smoldering villages and dirt road.

“When are we going to rest,” said Ennis a short while later after the previous ruined village disappeared from the horizon.

“When we find somewhere that your people haven’t destroyed,” said Vesta, her eyes still glancing around the horizon.

Ennis sighed. “You’re not very fun to talk to.”

“I was only speaking the truth,” said Vesta.

“Yes, but you could have said it nicer,” offered Ennis.

“What is the point in hiding the truth?” she said.

“I’m just saying...wait, was that a joke? Aha, coming from you I...I didn’t...I.” Vesta shot Ennis a crippling glare. He bolted upright in his saddle. She was not smiling. “Oh.”

“I’m going to scout ahead,” she announced loudly to the group.

Ennis held up his hand to command his newly appointed guard to wait, but the woman spurred her horse and bolted ahead of the group before he, or anyone else, could say anything.



She felt a tinge of guilt surge through her as she rode past the Prince. She should have spent the half day of riding in the front with him, learning what she could about him, his sister, and his men. Instead, that rat bastard Ennis had insisted that she ride in the back at her side. After all, she was his quote-unquote man now, and it would be best if they got used to each other. Like she would want to ever get chummy with a H’kelan dog, especially one that was a Cade. Was this some petty revenge for humiliating his brother nearly two decades ago? The boy wasn’t even old enough to remember that. Was he truly so self-righteous that he felt it was his responsibility to punish her for the crimes she had committed in the past? Vesta gritted her teeth. The other shoe had finally dropped. She knew the Cades. They were cutthroat. The minute she stopped being useful, he would reveal the information about her past to the Serios regardless of their deal. H’kelans were without honor, or so she thought.

It felt good to ride; it distracted her from ache in her head. The constant tightness in her wounded knee was replaced by an oddly pleasant ache. She unpinned her hair, allowing the wind to whip it freely as it blasted coolly against her face. She urged her horse forward faster and faster. It was a good horse, she could tell already. If she had to give H’kelans one compliment, it was that they knew how to raise and train thoroughbreds. She’d break ahead for a few span, and then she would let the horse rest while the others caught up. There would be nothing of interest to report; she doubted Cyril would want to hear about another destroyed village if she came upon one anyway. Just ride, escape, feel free for a moment. She smiled; laughed. It sounded strange.

Running away again, Joy? Can’t even handle an idiot boy pretending to be a man?

The smile on her face faltered. Was she running away because of Ennis? She may have been accepted by the Serios, but that didn’t change the fact that she was still a coward. She had been fleeing for years now; the childish adoration of a few orphans wouldn’t change anything. So what if Ennis revealed her history? What would she lose if she was no longer revered by a bunch of children pretending to be rulers?

Everything comes to mind, she thought. I...I need a drink.

A mirage appeared out of the haze on the horizon. Vesta blinked; her vision focused. It was a village. Surely, it should be destroyed by the others, but this one appeared to be fine. She could see the tiny, moving bodies of villagers going about their business. No piles of corpses. No clouds of ash. No sulfuric smell of the dead. It was no illusion. One of the villages on the H’kelan war path had made it. She spurred her horse forward towards the village. Do not fool yourself into thinking that she went out of the desire to return a report back to Cyril, or to warn the villagers about the possibility of a H’kelan attack, or to see how they somehow managed to be unharmed. No. A village usually meant a tavern, and a tavern meant a momentary relief from her Ennis-shaped pain in the neck. Just a few drinks. No harm could come from a few drinks.



“Oh thank goodness,” said Ennis with a huff, falling in behind the Prince as the crowd began to form. Civilization at last. He dismounted and gave a stretch; his body screamed in opposition. That meant they could rest, have a lunch, perhaps spend an evening listening to some fine folk music. The villagers of Barcea might have been simpletons, but he had been surprised by more than one in their skills with a lute. He doubted this place had a hot spring, but perhaps they had a bath. A bath would be nice after a hard day’s ride. The realization of what it meant for there to be an actual village standing on this road after the previous three disaster sites was a slow, dawning one.

“Thank goodness this one was spared,” he said slowly, correcting himself. The word spared would stick out like a sore thumb, as if the man did not believe that the H’kelan regulars would have possibly been defeated by these bumpkins. In actuality, he was just thankful that there was a chance that the H’kelans had stopped their onslaught. The more damage they did now, the harder he’d have to work to mitigate retaliation to his country later. “Thank Danmun.” Another poor choice of words. The ambassador was too exhausted from the road to properly censor his bias to something more appropriate for the sensitive Barcean ears.

Ennis listened with bated breath as the Prince brought the crowd to a silence with one sentence. Finally, one woman stepped forward. Ennis’s eyes lit up in amazement as he noticed her ears and tail. He had seen nonhumans before, but the experiences were few and far between. He nodded with a childlike enthusiasm as she told her tale. And what a tale it was. A wry smile formed on his face as she explained that two “angels”, well, Divineborn had intervened on the behalf of this village to stop the H’kelan army. His youthful amusement shifted into adult annoyance as she continued describing how the two Divineborn had beaten the army back without actually defeating any of its men. By the time she was done, his arms were folded across his chest and his wry smile had shifted into a condescending frown.

How ridiculous.

“You’re quite a storyteller,” said Ennis, beating the Prince to a reply. His voice was no heavier than usual and did not lack his general politeness, but one look at his face revealed that he was anything but appreciative. He looked at the woman with the same face someone would look at the bottom of their boot after stepping in a cowpie, his dark eyes burrowing down his upturned nose through her. “But this isn’t a pub, and your Prince did not ask you to spin him a yarn” There was an emphasis on the word your, hinting towards Ennis’s actual feelings on Cyril. “Perhaps the less fantastic version time?”

“Sod off, Cade,” spoke Vesta, leading her horse through the crowd. She stepped between the ambassador and the Prince. She gave Cyril a nod. Ennis frowned. That woman was getting very good at showing up out of nowhere to insult him. “Sorry for not returning sooner. I can verify her story. I’ve heard at least ten versions similar enough to it from others in town.”

To his credit, Ennis took little time to reverse his position. Roses blossomed on his cheek as he tore off his hat, placed it against his breast, and bowed deeply to the nonhuman woman. He winced as a pain shot through his spine. Damn horses.

“My deepest apologies, Miss. I meant no insinuations by my statement, and to say that I am exhausted from the road--while true--would not excuse my rudeness, nor should it. I do not deserve your forgiveness, although I do ask of it. Ah, let’s start again,” he said, straightening himself up. “My name is Ennis Cade, and I meant it as a compliment when I said you’re quite a storyteller. You have a fantastic way with words. I was absolutely enthralled by your telling of this...well, not a story. Encounter? Yes, this encounter.” The groan that escaped from Vesta was uncharacteristically loud. “Vesta, manners please, introduce yourself--no, never mind, I’ll do it, you’d just make me look like a fool.” And Ennis was already doing a good enough job of that alone. “This is my man, Vesta Debove.” The woman reflexively bristled at being called Ennis’s man.

“May I ask your name, Miss?” said Ennis, stepping forward. Any hints of disdain were now completely gone. “You wouldn’t happen to be a minstrel, would you? Oh, not to imply that you’d have to be a minstrel or a--” Ennis wisely shut his mouth and gave the woman an apologetic look. He was rambling again.

“What an asshole,” muttered Vesta under her breath.

Lora Kadar

Lora paid no ounce of attention to the man who dismounted while the crowd gathered until he addressed her directly. Even then, the attention was slight, a quick glance away from the Prince to spot who was speaking. The man was skinny and tall, barely older than her, and even with his lavish clothing he was still entirely unimpressive beside the Prince and the rest of the Sentinels. The hat was especially pathetic. This undeniable evidence combined with the way his arms folded over his chest and the urgency to speak before the Prince got a chance to take a breath caused Lora’s quick decision that she did not like this man. She did not give him the respect of her attention as he continued talking, instead turning back to address the Prince with a tight lip and an itch in her spine. She spun nothing but the truth for her Prince, and as such she listened to no reactions of that truth that came from anyone else.

Another horse trotted into the group, stepping between the Prince and the Contemptible, and the woman on top said a few words that seemed to rustle Contemptible’s feathers. Cade, hm? Contemptible Cade. That had a nice ring to it. The woman continued on to back her up to the Prince, assuring the lack of fantastical elements and the heavy dose of fact. Lora smiled pleasantly, if not without a hint of smugness and fang, towards the woman and the Prince.

Her eyes darted to the side when Cade moved suddenly, and they stuck there as she watched him pull his cry for glamour off his head and bow towards her. Dark eyebrows converged in confusion, the extremely unexpected gesture surprising her. The words that sprang from his mouth actually shocked her into silence for a few moments. Rudeness was solved by displays of aggression until one backed down and begrudgingly asked for forgiveness, not by sudden changes of heart and humble apologies.

He straightened back up and introduced himself, his first name in fact Ennis (and not the trait she had deemed him). He made no hesitation in trying to reconstruct his previous statements, which earned a long groan from the woman and a poorly concealed smirk on Lora’s behalf. He stepped forward and the woman, Vesta, grumbled lowly. Lora rearranged her face into a polite smile and met the man halfway, bowing gently. Apologetic and in the Prince’s company, she supposed he deserved at least that.

“Loredana Kadar, pleased to meet you. No—I make no living with stories and certainly don’t tell false ones for entertainment. I’m pleased you enjoyed what I had to say, but it was nothing more or less than the truth of the encounter, told in full detail to best serve my Prince.” She hesitated on the title, rudeness almost forgiven but diction duly noted. “I have no more purpose in this village than those who saved it—I’m simply passing through. I was in Barcea on business, and I’m heading back to Gurata where I serve as Beta of the Kadar tribe.” She stepped backwards to readdress the head of their traveling party. “I am in no rush, though, and would love to—well, I would be happy to—That is to say—It would be an honor,” she amended with no lack of enthusiasm despite her fumbling, “to assist any of you any further, in any way I could.”

"Cade, I'd ask if you had any shred of dignity or backbone, but it's obvious that if you ever did have one, it'd be long broken through social whip-lash by now. How well practice a cover-up that was, just like a politician. Reminds me of the nible family's of Jasi. All honeyed words and poisoned daggers, though you probably couldn't handle the last part, if how tired you get riding a damn horse is any indication." Shadar's tone was curt, cold, and dismissive as he looked down at the man with nothing but disgust in his glowing white eyes. The man reminded him of a bug, skittering about in a conversation in an effort to avoid getting squased, and as a result, he'd give him the proper amount of respect such an insignificant creature deserved. Why did we even need to bring his pathetic carcass with us? He'll slow us down, has nothing to offer but his words, and was likely to make things more difficult in the long run with his incompetence. It would've been better to let him be assassinated in the capital. I swear, that balde he wears at his side might as wel be for decoration, a child could disarm him with ease.

Not wanting to spend another second of thought on Ennis, he turned his eyes to the girl, noticing the animalistic features with some interest. "Funny, we're heading to Gurata ourselves. Many like you there?" He asked, simply curious, though his tone may not have conveyed it as such given how it was constantly one of either irritation or dismissal. As he waited for a response, he thought over her story of the angel's. While he scoffed in disgust at her claiming that someone was 'watching over them', he did believe her story and it didn't sit well with him. Killing an entire raiding battalion of soldiers with just two people, while no small feat, was something he could ppossibly do, though it would most likely be a hard fought battle and there wouldn't be much of survival even then. Injuring a battalion enough to get them to retreat, while not killing any of them and not taking a scratch yourself. That took a terrifying and absolutely inhuman amount of skill and power. The thought of two people walking around like that set shivers down his spine, because what if their were others just as strong, but not so inclined in doing random acts of kindness and saving villages from destruction. It was terrifying . . . yet intoxicating, as he thought to his own origins and status as an 'angel' as the commonfolk called his kind.

Could I ever be that powerful? Would I even want to be, and more importantly, what would happen if I ever did? His scales rustled ever so slightly, only noticeable if one really paid attention, as a sign of his discomfort with the way his thoughts were headed. He didn't like this information, and even more so, he didn't want Drosil to have this information either. His brother would be driven more than ever to achieve such strength, thinking that it would open new doors for him, but Shadar worried about what that power would do to his head. The magic he already has is enough to make him exceedingly dangerous when he goes into one of his rages, so the thought of him gaining the level of power this girl was talking about was . . . a worrying thought. Shaking his head, he put those thoughts to the back of his mind, turning around slightly as he looked at the rest of their band. A slight hunger pang was making itself known in his gullet, but he smothered it with his will. He didn't want to reveal the truth about his form to them, especially to Cade. He didn't trust them and he doubted that they trust him either, That was the way things had always been, and that was the way they would likely stay.

Cyril and Company

Quietly the Prince had listened to lupine nonhuman's story, absorbing all of the details. Perhaps the saviors of the village were in fact angels, those sent with Divine purpose in mind; after all, if they really had the power and ability to drive off an entire enemy force without killing a single man or suffering a single loss, there had to be something unusual about him. Something about the story stood out to him though, and surprisingly it wasn't about the woman who used bones; instead, it had to do with the man who had been moving so fast that he couldn't be properly seen as he acted. Something about that description gave him pause and made him think...

But so did the storyteller herself. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but at the moment the Prince couldn't quite place his finger on it. Ennis' response to her didn't exactly help; the Ambassador seemed to be quick to hear himself talk at that point, and Cyril just sighed as, with the return of Joy, the Ambassador continued to further bury his foot down his own throat. Bringing up his hand to the bridge of his nose, he gently rubbed as if to try and relieve himself of a headache (or in this case more of a migraine) as he counted to ten mentally. That gave more than enough time for, after Loredana's reply to introduce herself and retort to Cade, for even Shadar to join into the conversation as well... and as the Prince expected with the way things were going, he did not take the Ambassador's side with the matter.

Enough was rapidly becoming enough, and in that moment Cyril dismounted from his horse, landing heavily on his feet on purpose to create a forceful cut to the conversation. Straightening to his full height, he brushed himself off slightly before he stepped around Cade. He didn't touch the Ambassador, but the step was clearly meant to get the man to back off a little. The Prince didn't even look to Cade as he did this, just smiling calmly towards Lora with a hint of thankfulness.

"Do you think you might be able to recognize them if you were to see them? If they're even possibly still around I'd like to find them." Why, the Prince didn't exactly say. Instead he looked over his shoulder, bringing up his hand to gesture slightly as he gave orders to the Sentinels. "Diane, you stay with Ayano and take her to the other end of the town. The rest of you, just one pass through the town, spread out and see if you can find anything."

While all of the Sentinels save for Diane with Ayano dismounted and began to lead their horses through the village, splitting off into different directions, Cyril looked back to Lora. He looked her over closely, especially her face as he struggled to figure out just why she seemed to familiar... And then he had it, bringing his hands together to lightly tap his fist down onto his palm.

"Lora Kadar, I remember you now. It's certainly been awhile, and it's good to see you doing well. As he's already said," he gestured to Shadar slightly, "we're on our way to Gurata as well. You're welcome to join us if you'd like, but we'll be leaving soon." The Prince didn't want to stay in the village for more than an hour. Despite the fact that it was wonderful news that the village survived, the quicker they got their mission done, the sooner it would be more certain that this village would continue its existence.

Still though, the Prince was rather curious about those two that they had heard about, and he had hopes they would end up being found.

A Small, Rundown Tavern – The Wanderer

Within the dark of the room the man's eyes opened suddenly, briefly glowing purple before the glow faded. He was sitting in a corner, almost curled up into himself as he had taken that place to sleep during the night. Resting against him was his blade, with the sheath above his shoulder as he kept it close. The sheath was metal, and slightly curved with the shape of the blade itself. His hair was long and a strange, deeper shade of purple, pulled back in a ponytail.

Slowly he stood, picking up his blade as he did so. He was already dressed in purple travelling cloak of a similar shade with that of his hair and eyes, and underneath his clothes were a dark black. His body was slim and he was barely of average height, and overall his features were soft and almost feminine. On the lower, right half of his face bandages were stuck to his face, and he scratched these gently as he moved to the window.

He briefly opened the curtains, and blinked as he saw what was going on outside. There was a crowd gathered down below in the main path through the village, and people on horseback. Of those on horseback, the one at the lead was a young man with features that he nearly recognized, and ones that he thought he might not ever see again. Blinking quickly, he turned as he let the curtains fall back into place in order to speak to the one in the room with him.

"We need to move. We have stayed here for too long- rather he has slept for too long, and he apologizes."

The day before had been one nonstop action for the man and his travelling companion. After the unexpected morning of combat, he had split away from his companion; while she was to protect the village in case another attack came from a different direction, he pursued those that had already been driven away. He chased them all the way back to the border, giving them... encouragement whenever they slowed. Only once were they beyond the border and didn't dare to return did he turn back and head to the village, the pursuit and return taking him well over twenty-four hours.

Upon returning to the village and finding the room that she had rented, he had immediately gone to the corner to sleep. That had only been an hour ago, but now he was moving around with such an intent energy that it was clear an hour of rest was more than enough for him. Now, his focus was on picking up the small bag he carried over his shoulder before sliding his sheathed blade into place at his side, hooking it onto his belt so that he might not have to carry it in his hand the entire day.

The look on his eyes was intent and focused. Clearly, he wanted to leave as quickly as possible, perhaps because of what he had seen through the window. There was no guarantee this was the case though, for he was a notoriously hard man to read.

Even if the Wanderer had taken his sweet time getting back to the village, she was ready to strangle him until all he could see were stars. Fortunately for him, the fight had worn her out and as soon as the room was rented, she settled for a long bath and a long sleep. Those were typically common things for her to do after a fight, mainly so her bones could resettle into her skin.

Still dressed—and practically bundled up—in her loose jacket, the Wanderer’s sudden awakening and announcement was enough to rouse her from sleep. Her black hair, normally tied into pigtails, was loose and splayed messily on the pillow, but as she started to wake and sit up, she tied them back into their pigtails. There weren’t any distinguishing features about her, save her pinkish eyes. Their crimson color from earlier had faded after her bout of relaxation.

Standing and giving a long stretch, she yawned as she looked at her traveling companion.

”Alright, then let’s head out.”

She hadn’t asked why he wanted to leave so soon, but really didn’t care much. The day before had proven to be quite exciting, seeing as her itch for a fight had been scratched some. Though she didn’t have the joy of being able to spill the enemy’s blood—a policy that the Wanderer enforced heavily—watching them run with their tails tucked behind their legs was good enough.

Something about his comment irritated her slightly, causing her eyebrow to twitch.

”And shut up, you would’ve slept longer if you hadn’t gotten lost, dumbass.”

Lora Kadar

Another man cut into the conversation before the Prince could manage to. He was enormous and scaly, and very obvious in his disgust for Cade. Lora watched as he spit his words, talking down to Cade in every sense of the word. He affirmed falseness in Cade’s quick and “humble” switch, and hearing it from someone else made her believe in her earliest assessment of the man. Scaly didn’t spend long on Ennis, turning instead to her when he was done with his rampage. His words were still sharp, and they met her ears with an annoyed twitch. Humans were always either completely disinterested or all too ignorantly curious. She might have snapped if she hadn’t remembered her present company, and held herself back until she found a way to politely formulate a yes.

Right as she was about to speak, the Prince swiftly dismounted and she snapped her mouth shut. His landing was loud and dismissive, as were his following gestures. Her hands found each other and clasped together, anticipation of the Prince—The Prince—finally answering her straightening her back and making her palms sweat. Her smile mirrored his (if perhaps a little more overexcited than grateful.)

He spoke to her, and the sound was so familiar but also so off, like a memory of the past being retold by someone who hadn’t actually been there. The soft politeness was the same, but the deep authority was new. Lora started to nod the moment he stopped talking, mouth opening and then stopping in pause as he turned around to address the others. She closed her mouth and watched him, letting the tickling nostalgia dance around her while she waited for her turn. He turned back to her as the others split off, and her deep breath to answer him halted once more at his look.

Cobalt eyes turned on her with curiousness, and she froze under them. He seemed to be searching for something on her, with a sort of determination that was extremely intimidating. What was he looking for, and what if he didn’t find it? Her ears drooped into her hair slightly, burying themselves with the thought of disappointing her Prince. But then he lit up, his fist slamming into an open palm and recognition dawning. He spoke her name, and the following words may have been the best thing she had ever heard—No—they were the best thing she had ever heard, without a single doubt.

She brightened immediately, her ears standing straight and her eyes wide (her smile wider) and her cheeks flushed. Her lips moved in the semblance of words, but her grin kept pulling at them and her voice was nowhere to be found. She knew what she wanted to say but the words would not come out, because he remembered her, her remembered her back when her tail was scrawny and her fangs had yet to come in. She thought she might throw up. But if she did it would be on him, and she doubted he cared to see the contents of her stomach at the present time, so she shoved that thought down and pushed up her voice. “Yes! Yes. Yes—“ she broke off and winced; she was definitely over doing it. “Yes—“ No, that wasn’t what she meant to say. “Sorry, please. Yes, I would definitely remember the woman, and perhaps the man too. I didn’t see too much of him, but—He didn’t look like any of the villagers, so—I’ll try my best. Of course,” she added, “I would never give you any less. Than the best, I mean. You’re the Prince, after all—“ she winced again, far too aware of her rambling. “Yes. Sorry. I just—I never dreamed in a million years I would see you again, much less this close and much less that you would actually remember me—I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Yes, I would love to accompany you all, if you wouldn’t mind one more and if I haven’t just ruined my chances of being good company.” She chuckled self-depreciatively, the smile still stuck on her face. “I have my own horse and pack, and I promise I will never talk this much again if you don’t want me to, and—Oh! My goodness! Please, excuse me, I’ll only be a minute. Sorry, sorry.”

She bowed and whirled, skipping through the dispersing crowd as fast as she could and coming upon the boy and those she had left him with. The words didn’t even need to be said before they were nodding, assuring Lora they would watch him until his mother returned because the Prince—the Prince, of all people!—wanted her to accompany him. She thanked them with a brief hug and kissed the top of the boy’s head, wishing him well and asking him to thank his mother for her generosity. She raced back to the Prince with her still-present and too-bright grin, stopping before him and bowing for the third time as she remembered herself. “You wanted to look around, right? We could head towards the inn—we’ll pass a little bit of town and if they stayed a night or even stopped in for a drink at any point I’m sure the keeper would remember them. And I kept Pax there last night, I could pick him up so we won’t have to stop later. Unless you want to look elsewhere, of course. You know best. The inn is that way,” she pointed and smiled at him, before quickly adding, “Your honor.”

A Small, Rundown Tavern – The Wanderer

As his travelling companion got herself ready, he calmly waited near the door, standing just to the side of it a little so that even if it would open towards him, he wouldn't be touched by it. He was patient, and seeing as it didn't take her very long to get ready, he didn't mind at all... but when her irritation began to show, one would almost be able to see the sweat drop form on the side of his head as he paled a little.

"He didn't get lost at all, you know!"

She'd never believe him, but before she could retort or try to give him a new set of hand=shaped bruises on his throat he quickly turned, opening the door and retreating out of it. His steps, though it didn't seem like he made any effort to conceal himself, were completely silent as he quickly led her down the hallway and the set of stairs that led to the common room of the inn. Old and certainly having seen better days, thanks to the chaos of the day before it was empty for the most part, only the innkeeper and two patrons there.

He made a decision without voicing it to his companion, only gesturing slightly for her to follow. Rather than take them out the front door, he chose the side door that led to the stables. From there, they exited out of the back and into one of the side streets. Avoiding the main road would be best for the time being, especially with the group he saw out front. Now he had to figure out how to get them out of the village quietly.

Cyril and Company

Lora's sudden and excited response surprised the Prince, nearly catching him entirely off guard. It made him smile a little more warmly than he already was, chuckling as the memories came back one at a time. She had certainly changed in the years since he had last seen her, but that was only to be expected. In the same vein though, there were ways that she hadn't really changed, such as her energy. In a way, it was almost funny, but in a good way-

And just like that, she was suddenly gone. Blinking in surprise, he looked up to his side as both Diane and Ayano began to pass him, the Sentinel chuckling to himself. "Seems your presence is as intimidating as ever, Cyril. You haven't scared off anyone that bad since the port town incident."

"Very funny, Diane." He gave a dismissive sort of wave as she continued on with Ayano, smirking to herself. He just waited patiently with those he hadn't dismissed, slowly looking around the village as he continued to smile. It was the first truly good news he had gotten in days, and... Well, it was certainly a wonderful surprise. He didn't have too long to muse to himself before Lora returned, speaking of the inn and why there was more than one good reason to go in that direction.

"Alright then. Lead on, Lora."

Side Road – Alasa

Though Alasa knew that Cyril had a reason behind wanting to seek out the so-called "angels" that had saved the village, most likely possible recruitment, the Sentinel couldn't help but feel like the brief search was a waste of time, even if it was going to be relatively short. The two saviors clearly didn't want to be found, so the likelihood of them having stayed in the village seemed very small to the archer.

Following orders, Alasa had taken his horse off to the side before turning down one of the smaller streets. Moving with the animal was a little more difficult here, but he pressed on, intent on making his cut through the village as quick as possible so that he could quickly rejoin his companions on the other side. However, he ended up blinking in slight surprise as movement drew his eye, and he saw two small figures, one male and one female, exiting from the back of the stable attached to the town's inn. They moved quickly and quietly, something that made Alasa think back to what he felt about the saviors a moment before-

"Hey! You two! Hold up!"

As soon as he raised his face, the male of the two immediately went rigid, startling to stand straight so suddenly that his strange, dark purple hair briefly fluffed upward. As Alasa approached, he was still for just a moment longer...

And then, quite suddenly, he grabbed the wrist of his companion before almost throwing himself bodily to the side, dragging her along with him out of sight past the tavern. Alasa's eyes widened, stopping in shock before a moment before he began rushing forward as fast as he could while still pulling along his horse.

"Hey, wait-!"

Collision

It hadn't taken very much time for the group with the Prince to make it to the old inn in the town. As old as it was, it was certainly fortunate that it was standing at all, everything considered. They took their time with their approach, soon crossing in front of the alley that stretched the short space between the inn and the next building nearby, some sort of bread shop.

"Definitely seems as good of a place to start as necessary. Just give me-" Before Cyril could finish his sentence he stopped, a slightly concerned look coming over his face. From nearby he heard yelling, and it sounded a lot like Alasa...

As he turned his head even as he walked, he saw the two smaller figures barreling towards him a little too late, as they did as well. In fact, it was so late that the male of the duo only had time to let go of his grip on the female's wrist and shove her off to the side before he simply crashed into the Prince. Despite being fairly shorter than the Prince, the small man's velocity sent the two of them tumbling in a confused mass of flailing limbs, the Prince yelling out slightly in surprise as the man almost squawked.

After both hit the ground and tumbled, it took a moment for the Prince to wrench away from the man and stand back up. Taking a step back, he took a look down to the strange man who wore faded purple and bandages on the right lower quarter of his face, seeing how he remained crumpled up on the ground like a doll tossed aside, groaning as his head swayed back and forth in a disoriented fashion.

"What in the world-"

In that moment, Alasa emerged from the alley, though at a much more controlled pace than the man and woman had been going. Not even looking to see where the woman had ended up, his eyes only on the man, he went forwards quickly with his horse before he finally let go of the reins, reaching down to lift up the short man by the scruff of his neck. From the sudden lift, the shorter man was disoriented only a little bit longer before a sort of surprised, panicked look came over his face. Rather than reaching for the blade that hung at his side, he seemed to pretend it wasn't there at all as he instead went to hold his throat, as if Alasa was choking him.

"Any particular reason why you ran away from me, little man?"

"He is only a Wanderer! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"You just ran full force into the Prince of Barcea-"

"He apologizes profusely but also rejects all charges this may lead to!"

Blinking rapidly, Cyril just slowly brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose, where he briefly held before he brought his hand forwards to Alasa's shoulder, trying to calm him. "Tone it down a little, Alasa, I'm not hurt..."

Watching Ennis make a fool of himself filled Vesta with succulent schadenfreude that mixed nicely with the warmth that the alcohol had brought to her body. The muscles in her face ached as they strained to create a rare smile as Shadar wiped the sycophant’s smirk off of his smug face. She watched with perverse delight as Ennis’s puffy shoulder frill visibly dropped a few inches as he sunk behind Cyril, his hat covering his face as he gritted his face. She covered her own mouth with a gloved hand, biting down on her finger to prevent herself from laughing out loud. She almost bit her own finger off as Lora began to blabber like an excited belle at a ball. Vesta had long tired of those types in her youth. The thought that it filled her with pleasant nostalgia meant one thing: the alcohol in this useless town was stronger than she thought it was. Who cares, thought Vesta, as she watched Lora’s and wondered if she was housebroken.

“This is why you should learn to never apologize,” said Vesta. “Better yet, don’t say anything in the first place.”

“I do not like that man,” said Ennis, glancing towards Shadar to make sure he was out of earshot as Cyril and the others began to follow after Lora.

“He’s much better than the other one,” she said, popping a chunk of bread that she had snagged from the tavern into her mouth.

“Comparing my family to those Jasi bastards,” he continued, smoothing his hair and sliding his hat on his head. “Cade’s do not use poison like those cowards from the South; we look our enemy square in the eye as we—the other one?”

“Shadar called him his brother. He’s been hiding for some time. First I thought it was just an illusion; but he’s been maintaining it for too long. Probably just too embarrassed to come out,” she said, carefully enunciating her words to avoid slurring. “You remind me of him”

“Don’t insult me.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. If anything, she’d been insulting Drosil. She tore off another chunk of bread and held it out to Ennis. “Want some?”

“No, I do not want anything this forsaken town has—are you drunk?” he said in a hushed tone, grabbing Vesta’s wrist.

“Not drunk,” she said. Buzzed. Tipsy. Feeling good. But not drunk drunk. Not in front of the children.

Ennis turned to follow behind the group; Vesta fell in next to him, her scabbard clicking against the ground. She didn’t like how Ennis could tell when she had been drinking; none of the others seemed to have picked up her habit yet despite their voyage together to and from the castle. The boy was much more perceptive than he appeared to be; it put her on edge. While she had been slamming whiskeys in the tavern and between hearing the nth version of alleged angels saving the village she had been considering the situation she currently found herself in. She decided that it was not as bad as she had originally thought. Yes, she had to be his little guard dog and stick by his side, but that made it easier for her to keep an eye on him. The others might look at him with disdain and distrust as she thought they rightfully should, but she feared they did not do so for the right reasons. He was a H’kelan, he was a Cade, and he was dangerous. Worse still, he was cursed.

“I’d like to meet his brother,” said Ennis.

“Not a good idea, Cade. He’s very liberal with his use of magic,” she said.

“I wasn’t going to meet him alone,” he said, clarifying. “You’d be with me, of course.”

“I dislike this idea even more then,” said Vesta, sighing. Her first impression of Drosil had left quite a sour taste in her mouth, and anymore thoughts of him would spoil her buzz. She changed the subject. “What do you think of the girl?”



“Lora?” said Ennis. She could see him mull over his words. “She seems to be full of life.”

“She’s seems tiresome,” said Vesta.

“That’s only because you do not like how smitten she is with the Prince.”

“I do not care about someone’s childish crush,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“You notice how she suggested that they head to the inn first?” said Ennis, nudging Vesta with his elbow. He began to chuckle and shake his head. “Perhaps you should do your Prince a favor and take the rest of his tagalongs and go…”

His voice trailed off as Vesta’s glare pierced through him. He now had proof that Shadar had been wrong on two accounts: he had a backbone, and it had not been broken by social whiplash. He knew Shadar was wrong for a fact because he felt his spine suddenly make a split towards his hometown of the Kirun where it snuggled up against his Mom and sucked its thumb while it cried itself to sleep. He animatedly waved his hands in front of his chest.

“Nevermind, nevermind. Oh, my, I think I heard Cyril calling for me,” he said as he lightly jogged ahead of Vesta.

Rounding the corner, he almost became part of the Cyril-Wanderer pile up, skidding to a halt and catching his balance just in time. He watched with bemusement as the Prince struggled to free himself from the feminine man, stepping back to both clear the way and to signal that he had little intention to offer any assistance. His name had already been besmirched today; no point in dirtying his clothes too. Ennis folded his arms over his chest as he studied the man and the woman. His eyes focused on the woman, a girl really, and a tiny one at that. She had an unpleasant look on her face and long black pigtails. His eyes lit up with recognition almost instantly as he glanced at Lora and smiled apologetically. He could guess who the other man was, then.

"He apologizes profusely but also rejects all charges this may lead to!"

Vesta’s advice about apologizing rang out in his head. Ennis grinned. “I would strongly advise against all apologies. Some simpler folk,” he said, using a good amount of willpower to not cast Shadar a disparaging look, “cannot comprehend common decency.”

“Seriously, if you run ahead like that I—” Vesta wheeled around the corner and gave Alasa a stern look, her voice lowering to a growl. “Why is a Sentinel choking some girl?”

“Lora, I would feel dreadful if I took your moment. Would you please explain to Vesta and the others who these two,” he faked a cough into his fist. He’d almost said ladies thanks to Vesta’s confusion. “Ahem, sorry, who these two fine people are?”

Shadar couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the girl's obvious display of infatuation with the prince. It wasn't, however, a nice chuckle, as no amusement was present in his tone. It would be hard to quite pin down the main emotion that wasn't present within the action, only that the general tone wasn't a pleasant one. As the group made it's way to the suggested inn, Shadar followed only for a bit before quietly making his way off to the side. He found an empty space between to buildings, and took the brief moment of silence to pull out his sketchbook and work on what he currently had at the moment. He hadn't gotten the chance to do so for awhile, and while he didn't work on them much, he felt like he was in slightly better spirits than he was before.

Still, he'd be damned if he had to sit through such painfully obvious displays of puppy love like that all the way to Gurata. Sorry girl, looks like I'm going to have to put you through the living hell that is my brother's curiosity. Pray to your Gods that something else grabs his interest before you do. Shadar thought with another chuckle, before he was encompassed by blinding light again. When the light subsided, a slightly dazed and tired Drosil was in his place, who gave a slight yawn as he ran a hand through his rather atrocious case of bed head. This gave him some pause, as he wondered where he was transported if he could get a bed head from sleeping there. It was an interesting thought, but he couldn't really follow it further, as he could hear a commotion coming from nearby.

Hmm, I wonder whats all the ruckus is about. Best I go investigate, and hopefully I'll be able to find my party before they depart. I should also have my explanation ready n case Cyril questions my presence, but first I need to apologize to Joy for my . . . outburst the other day. With his course of action set, he made his way to the source of the noise, only to find that one of Cyril's men seemed to be choking some poor woman on the ground while another seemed to have been knocked to the ground. While certainly a strange scene, Drosil was quick to close in on the downed figure, his eyes swirling with excitement as he could sense the magical energy pulsing through him. e'd never seen anything like this, and it immediately removed any thoughts of studying the Lora girl from his mind, much more interested in this figure. While Alasa had them restrained, he spoke some words over him, his eyes taking a slight gaze as he began to run some preliminary scans of the figure, which revealed something rather odd to him.

"Huh . . . you are very pretty and slight for a man." I could think of several Jasian matriarchs that would kill you a bodyshape similar to yours . . . and several more that would want you for themselves. Effeminate male house servants are in high demand amongst the older noblewomen of Jasi, for reasons I could only hazard a guess at, as well as several other choice words." He noted curiously, his scans not telling him much beside that Wanderer was skilled in magic, his age, had the build of a warrior, muscle damage and strain that suggested that he'd been in many battles, and a slight anomaly about him that he couldn't identify.

Once he was done, he'd turn around, giving a slight nod before whispering once more in the language that cast his magic, bringing into being two small wisps that would fly around the two individuals. After that, he brought his fingers up to his lips, letting out a shrill sound to rake across the land. SHortly after, it was responded to by another shrill shriek, followed by a large amount of screaming, cursing, and general noise from the commonfolk as Sir Mauls appeared in all of his glory. His mandibles were also dripping with blood, which he got all over Drosil as he bull rushed the young mage, causing him to fall over with a soft grunt. By the time he had gotten the big creature off him, his robes where completely and totally ruined. Looking over at Sir Mauls with a harsh glare, which caused the Deathcrawler to let out a few clicks of remorse.

"I'm glad you're happy to see me too, Sir Mauls, but for Divine's sake, please think before you come barreling in with your face all bloody like that. Even with Magic, this stain will take forever to get out, not to mention that the runes will have to be redone. Damn it all." Drosil mumbled to himself as he quickly removed the robe, leaving him in only the loose leather breeches he wore underneath it, and a rather light looking jerkin. While Drosil continued to complain to himself about the state of his robe, Sir Mauls was looking around at the others, mostly focusing on the new faces, though it gave Ennis a bit of a hard time by clicking it's mandibles in a threatening fashion as it passed him, though it was only half joking about wanting t at the man. Everything about him smelled of easy prey to Sir Mauls' predatory instinct. Surely no one would mind if it took a leg . . . or a head. "Sir Mauls' I know what you're thinking and no, the politician is not on the menu. You can't touch him, though you should get acquainted with him. Mr. Cade, is it, please try you're best not to make any sudden movements while Sir Mauls familiarizes himself with your scent. Deathcrawlers spook a bit easy."

Sir Mauls clicked at Drosil in an annoyed fashion, before turning back to Cade, it's antennae reaching out to rub themselves over the man. If he did the smart thing and kept still, all would be fine. If he did the wrong thing and flailed about, he'd en up getting an antenna in his mouth as he did so, s well as a menacing bit of clicking as he earned Sir Mauls ire. After it's investigation of Ennis, he scuttled over to the man currently being held down, looking him over for a few seconds before making his way over to the girl, circling around her in a slow, methodical manner. IT was keeping her in one place, so if she tried to make a break for it or to go and help their ally, it'd have a Deathcrawler in their path.

Drosil, meanwhile, had summoned some small river faes to cleanse his robes, giving them each a gold piece in thanks before he walked over to the group s a whole, giving a small bow to those who he had yet to be properly associated with.

"Hello to those who I've yet to make acquaintence, my name is Drosil, and that is Sir Mauls, who I'm sure you're all somewhat acquainted with, though my brother may have neglected to do something that, while not the best experience, is very necessary. But before that, who might our current captives, hmmmm?" Drosil eyes turned to the Wanderer, a hungry gleam in his eye as he wished to cast more in depth scans on the man, so as to find out what made him tick. The anomaly in particular was something that he wished to learn of quite well. [i]Of course, I could always just ask them, but something tells me that doing so would lead to not very many answers."

Everything had gone wrong and it was all her damned companion’s fault. She hadn’t taken too lightly to being dragged around and eventually being chased and then ending up on her behind. While the Wanderer had gone ahead and crashed into some blueberry guy and a dog girl, then gotten choked by a guy on a horse, her own irritation was beginning to grow.

And then, of course, the entourage arrived. As their numbers grew, her eyebrow began to twitch and she began to stand up…

Only to get poked in the face by a fine set of antennae.

If the Wanderer had looked, he’d definitely see the irritation beginning to boil over. She was close to her boiling point, that was certain.

She started to walk over, ready to pry the Wanderer out of Horse Man’s hands when the giant ant got in her way.

”OI WOULD YA GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY YA OVERSIZED ANT.”

Her pink eyes were glaring at the giant creature in front of her, scowl letting loose a low growl. Eventually, she turned to her companion, the daggers in her glare piercing deep.

”AND YOU. WHAT’S WITH YOUR SNEAKY SHIT. YA JUST HAD TO GO OUT THE FUCKING SIDE DOOR INSTEAD OF GOING THROUGH THE FRONT LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON. I SWEAR, YOU GET US INTO MORE TROUBLE THAN I DO. WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, OOH, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING GET IT.”

Drosil blinked at the womzn's loud outbursts, looking over at her as Sir Mauls hissed out a few less than pleasant phrases at being likened to something as mindless and feeble as an ant. Drosil was also quite perturbed by the comment, though for a much diifferent reason.

"Um, excuse me Miss, but Sir Mauls' isn't an ant, nor does he look anything like one. While I understand not knowing the name of various insects, to make such a large mistake is, how should I say . . . embarrassing, from my perspective at least. But don't worry, I shall enlighten thee." Drosil gave a bright smile as he walked closer to the woman, steppin up to where Sir Mauls lay and scratching him behind one of his antenna. "You see, Sir Mauls is a Deathcrawler, who bear some relation to centipedes, though many times larger and sturdier, and are natibe to the underground oasis of Jasi. Furthermore . . ."

And so would begun Drosil's lecture, as he couldn't resist but to offer some form of enlightenment to those finding themselves lacking in interesting knowledge. However, since he found nearly everything interesting, that meant that his lecture went on for quite some time, and where filled with nearly every fact he could dig up from his head. That, plus his tendancy for more sophisticated and scientific language, meant that to most he may as well have been speaking another language.

Lora Kadar

Lora directed the Prince towards the inn with a bounce in her step. She had found the boy’s mother, spoken directly to the Prince and been spoken back to, been remembered from her brief time in Barcea, and been invited along for at least a portion of his adventures. And now he was following her direction, listening to her suggestions—the day could simply not get any better.

It could always, however, get much worse.

They were just passing the bread shop and listening to Cyril when he cut off at the sound of yelling, and the few moments that followed were those of an intentionally poor comedic play. The group turned in slow motion, hair flying and eyebrows furrowing to find two travelers speeding towards them far too quickly. The woman flung off to the side while the man hit home in the way of the Prince, taking him down and tumbling across the street. Both men and Lora let out a squawk of surprise, Lora’s hands clapping over her mouth. Before she could think to ask if he was okay, the Prince stood and surveyed his impromptu gymnastics partner. He didn’t seem to like him, but he also didn’t seem angry that the man had fumbled the landing.

One of the Sentinels, however, (perhaps their coach?) seemed very disgruntled with the failed routine. He grabbed the man off the ground and held him from his horse (an impressive feat, but else what was to be expected of the Prince’s trainer?) and demanded answers. The man’s hands flew to his neck and Lora caught the swing of his sword at the lift in his jacket, and she gasped once more.

Their saviors had not disappeared at all, merely vanished in the moment to recuperate at the inn. She turned from the conversation and the hanging man to the woman who stood watching, and the shocked panic from the collision jumped into excitement. She would remember those eyes anywhere, even lighter and (if possible) more disgusted than they had been with her. The man’s height and weapon of choice were undeniable as well, and the smell they carried with them was the same on the wind of the fight yesterday.

The Prince spoke and Cade and Vesta joined them, jumping into the conversation before Lora could deliver the good news. She stepped closer to the Prince and waited, bouncing gently on her feet and trying to contain herself. She was wrong—the day could get better. They had just found exactly who the Prince wanted to, and Cade was even going to let her be the one to say it. But there was another roadblock in the form of a new man they seemed familiar with, and Lora wished for once her parents had not been important, that no one had cared what she said in front of anyone—that she had been raised to be as rude as she pleased. Of course, she hadn’t, so she held her tongue and waited for her opening. Someday she wouldn’t care about niceties and politeness, but that would be a day without the Prince of Barcea on the other end of her address.

The new addition to the group spoke to the hanging man first, going on about nonsense. And then he spun and made some odd movements, and suddenly they had even more company in the way of a gigantic centipede. He rushed at the newcomer and seemed to maul him, but before Lora could yell for help, the man pushed him aside and stood. He took off and shook out his robe and reprimanded the beast, who seemed to care for only a few moments before it turned away. It felt out Cade and her best assumption that he was some sort of pet was made as the man continued to speak to it in a rather fatherly fashion. It moved on quickly to the hanging man and then to the girl, whom it circled and watched carefully. Lora wondered if it was going to eat her.

The man stepped forward and introduced himself—Drosil—and his pet—Sir Mauls—and directed his attention to those they had caught. This, while all entertaining, only served to add to Lora’s heightening irritation. If he would just be quiet, she could tell all of them just who their current captives were. And then he was, for a brief moment, and Lora whirled towards her Prince—only to be cut off by furious shouting by her personal angel. Before anyone else could answer Drosil jumped in and began a lengthy explanation of his pet, something that might have intrigued Lora in any situation other than their current one. Maybe she would ask him to repeat it later.

For now though, she had had it. This was simply irrelevant to the subject at hand, and perhaps it wouldn’t seem so rude to speak up, perhaps it would actually be ruder to stay silent and keep the Prince in the dark any longer. “Your Majesty,” Lora started, bowing her head but speaking rather loudly to be heard over the commotion, “these are the two who saved the village yesterday. That woman is the one who saved my life, and that man fought off the H’kelans with her.” She smiled at him, turning to look at the angels. “I’m sure this is them, without a doubt.”

Cyril, the Wanderer, and Company

The times like these made Cyril honestly wonder if he had some minor curse placed upon him. Situations always seemed to have a tendency to spiral out of control around him (or at least that's what it felt like), and the moment was no exception... in fact, it was rapidly becoming a prime example. Even as Cyril tried to get Alasa to set the male stranger down, more and more of his own travelling group arrived to... complicate the situation. The first was Ennis, whose comment didn't really change much, but Joy showing up afterwards.... Well. The man being held up didn't seem too pleased with the way she referred to him, actually kicking his legs back and forth as he seemed to struggle to free himself from Alasa's tight grip.

"He is a man, not a girl!!!"

The struggle was to little avail though as Drosil made his sudden unexpected entrance. The Prince blinked in surprise as he heard the Jasian's voice, turning away from Alasa and the two strangers and almost forgetting them entirely as he instead looked to Drosil. Where in the name of the Divines had he come from? It took a fair amount of willpower to not demand answers from the man then and there, especially about Shadar, but Drosil's attention to the strange man helped him decide to save it for later, and he couldn't help but be slightly amused at what Drosil had to immediately say to the captive.

"He is a man oh what's the point anymore?" Sighing, the stranger suddenly went limp in Alasa's grip, hands and head hanging down as a defeated expression came over his face. Cyril could almost see the dark, depressed cloud gathering over his head, and he could almost see it pop in alarm as Sir Mauls-a-lot made his glorious entrance. Cyril quietly swore to himself before he brought up his hand to the bridge of his nose yet again that day, having already forgotten how many times he had done so already; Sir Mauls looked fresh from the slaughter, and it didn't sit well with the local population. Meanwhile, the man being held jumped in Alasa's grip slightly in surprise, though he remained perfectly still during the Deathcrawler's inspection of him, apparently not bothered by the touch of the antennae.

However, what could only be described as the fear of the Divines was placed into the man as his companion began yelling. It startled the Prince slightly, him looking to her in slight confusion while also being somewhat impressed by just how loud she was getting, but the man on the other hand... He froze immediately and went pale, and went even paler (if that was possible) as her yelling turned into a tirade against him. While Drosil moved on to his companion, the man just looked to Alasa, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Please, take him far away immediately. It might extend his life by a few hours."

Alasa blinked as his brow furrowed, before he suddenly dropped the man back to the ground. Whether or not the man's words had this objective in mind, he ended up landing on his backside heavily with a slight, "Ooof," sitting there for a moment before picking himself up slowly. As the Wanderer stood once more, finally on his own feet, it was in that moment that Lora finally identified what a few of them were already suspicious of: this strange man and his very loud, very angry companion were the two who had prevented the destruction of the village.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if the Wanderer might deny what Lora had to say. The fearful look on his face from his companion faded as it almost became shifty, as if he was trying to find any way to get out of the situation. It eventually faded into one of acceptance as he glanced around to them all after a brief sigh. Lora had seen them personally, there was no possibility of denying this situation. His gaze went to the Prince last, hands being held loosely at his side, though they didn't approach his blade.

"These two are the ones she speaks of, but there is no need to thank us. We would prefer to just... leave quietly, if it is still possible."

Cyril gave a slight nod in acknowledgement of the Wanderer's request (though not necessarily accepting it). The gears were clearly turning inside his head, and slowly a sort of smirking smile came over his face, one that made the Wanderer bristle slightly in anticipation.

"Well, if that's the case, you can leave with us now. We're making our way to the north pretty quickly, and word of your exploits shouldn't extend all the way to Gurata."

For a moment both were silent, and then suddenly the Wanderer started slightly as it became apparent what had just happened. His jaw dropped ever slightly as his eyes widened just to the point before bulging, a slightly strangled noise leaving his throat. Though what the Prince had said was simple enough, something about his tone (and that smirk) made it very clear he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and if the Wanderer attempted to refuse then more difficult questions would follow... And for someone who wanted to try so hard to stay anonymous, the situation was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Nnnnnn... Very well then, it would probably be best if these two leave quickly..."

Cyril's smirk grew slightly in victory, before he looked to Alasa. "Make sure the rest of the Sentinels make it to the other side. We'll catch up soon."

The look that Alasa gave Cyril was almost weary. "You're absolutely certain about this?"

"Better than the possible alternatives."

"Fine." Alasa brought up his hands slightly in resignation before he turned, pulling himself back up onto his horse. "Just be quick. We've made more than enough of a scene already." He flicked the reins slightly then, making his way beyond those still stopped outside the inn.

As Alasa made his exit, Cyril stepped forwards. As he passed the Wanderer he patted the shorter man's shoulders slightly, which seemed to cause them to slump a little. Cyril didn't pay attention to that too much though, instead making his way to Drosil and saying, "Drosil, ask Sir Mauls-a-lot to stand down. She'll be travelling with us now, after all." He came to a stop, crossing his arms slightly as he did so. "And if you could give me even the slightest semblance of an explanation, it would be greatly appreciated."

Meanwhile, the Wanderer had begun to shift slightly in small, sliding steps away from the Prince, the Jasian, the Deathcrawler, and his companion in a futile attempt to quietly remove himself from what he knew would be coming next.