With the words of the petite woman still freshly in the minds of all of those within their company they were allowed something of a buffer period to do as they pleased. In all honestly it was a bit of a surreal moment for the sniper.

While wandering down hallway after hallway deep in thought about a few various things, not really caring where she would find herself, it struck her as odd that after their company dispersed she’d not seen any of them. Then there was the fact of the small woman herself. At this moment she realized her surroundings had changed and she was now within the dining room they had been sitting at earlier-devoid of all other people and nothing moving aside from the massive swirling wall that sat behind where Lady Renata had been sitting at.

Taking a moment for herself Alice found herself sitting at the far end of the table, directly across the way from Karin’s empty seat, and her hands fiddling with a now un-holstered weapon. She skillfully ejected the magazine before taking the gun apart without even looking at it. Instead her eyes remained forward staring, glazed over, at the swirling mass as her mind began to wander and her hands tinkered.

Was she what she really said she was? How had the world not known about her then? Well, if she was a lady of demons then she clearly had power and clearly would know what she was doing. But, what had she meant earlier-when she’d said that she wanted to test them out and draw them out? Just how strong were these bastards? Alice’s hands paused a moment as a new thought came to her mind

Is she using us? Does she have any care if we die so she can kill off her enemies? Her hands returned to their previous actions with a bit more vigor and a frown resting on her concentrated face. If I am to be honest I would do the same thing. No need to expend energy when others can do it for me. Alice finally blinked and looked down to realize each of her four guns had been neatly placed onto the table; she hadn’t even realized she’d handled them all.

”Well, that was certainly impressive.”

With the voice, Alice would realize she was no longer alone. It came from quite a distance, and yet despite that carried easily enough to be heard; as Alice had been lost in her thoughts and staring at the swirling mass of stars behind the glass, the Lady of Demons herself had taken her place at the far end of the table. The distance between the two was so far that Alice had trouble even seeing Lady Renata thanks to the dim light, though the glowing red eyes were something she could keep track of constantly, so long as they remained open.

”Without any thinking at all, you went through all of your weapons, caring for and maintaining them easily. You are quite practiced and dedicated to them.”

Alice’s hand shot out to grasp one of her pistols as the voice of Karin echoed across the way. However, she kept from lifting the weapon off of the table and instead gazed forward to where those oddly glowing eyes were at the end of the table. Her muscles relaxed and her grip from her pistol eased before resting on her lap as she say a bit straighter.

”Thank you.” Alice glanced down at her weapons before smiling and looking back up at Karin. ”They are my means of survival and we all must down what is necessary to survive, correct?” For once Alice’s own words amused herself.

”Mmm, yes, I suppose so.” The Lady of Demons gave a slight nod, before briefly her eyes closed and they once more opened. ”I hope you’re prepared to continuing doing what you need to, then. There is a long road in front of you all.”

Alice swallowed hard at those words, ”It's refreshing to at least know that my road is long.” the notion made her heart beat a little harder. However, she pushed the thoughts aside and squared her shoulders.

”Is there something I can assist you with Lady Karin?” She didn't mean to sound blunt or rude, she truly was curious...and rather eager to make those glowing red eyes stop glowing and staring at her.

”No, but there’s something I might be able to help you with.” Slowly, the Lady of Demons began to rise… And then in the next moment she had moved down the length of the table before Alice could blink, sitting down at the corner seat to her right in one smooth moment. Closer, Alice would actually be able to see her pale features, and that smirking sort of smile that the Lady of Demons often held in conversation.

”You seem like the practical sort. You know your own strengths, and your own limitations. You are human, which comes with its own sort of baggage; so you set about using your ingenuity and your tools to do the unexpected. It stands to reason, then, that the better and more diverse tools you possess, the better chance you have at survival?”

A sharp inhale could be heard as Karin was all of a sudden sitting far closer than before. She attempted to cover her surprise with a cough into the back of her hand, ”I thank you for recognizing my point of practicality. Dwelling on wants isn't good for anything or anyone.” Her green eyes looking carefully over Karins oddly delicate features before nodding slightly with confusion clear on her features. ”I am very curious to see what it is you have in mind for me to attempt to master next, my Lady.” to say that Alice was excited, giddy even, at whatever prospect the Demoness maybe offering was an understatement. Yes, it was partly in for the fact Alice has a weird liking for receiving presents but she also knew that when Power was shared it was for a true reason and it was clear Karin was Power itself.

The Lady of Demons chuckled, eyebrow raising ever slightly. ”For now, I would suggest you continue to master your current set of skills, as you’re getting quite close. With that in mind, I have some things to give you to help you with that.” Briefly her hands went down, both under the table, as if picking something up from the floor; in her right hand came a small black case, and in the other a larger white one. The black one she held up slightly first, before pushing it across the table to Alice.

”In this is a single magazine for your rifle. Eight rounds for eight shops. These rounds possess firepower unlike any you’ve ever experienced before; I would only use them against threats like the Manu Propria, and only when you’re certain you won’t miss or have them deflected; it would be a terrible waste. And this, on the other hand…” She began to slide forward the larger case, then. “Five magazines of a different sort of round entirely. When you use your rifle, you typically keep yourself at a distance; this presents you a unique view of the battlefield, sight of your enemies and your allies. Tell me, have you ever thought of shooting your friends before?[/b]

The amount of salvaging Alice had been doing over the Power Bullets was promptly cut short at the question presented to her. ”Is...is that a serious question?” Was this woman trying to tease her? Truth be told she had thought about it when select members had pissed her off but of course she’d never speak on that.

”Completely serious.” The Lady of Demons said. ”With these, you can get away with it. There is a unique enchantment on these rounds that will keep them from causing any damage to your allies; in fact, the round will dissolve on contact, and as the magic washes over them they will be healed of wounds of moderate intensity. Be careful, though; it will do the same to your enemies.”

Alice simply blinked at the woman for a moment trying to make sure she heard her correctly. “So you're telling me, that if need be, I can shoot, say, Christopher in the back without hurting him and if I hit an enemy then they would get an essential boost?” Now Alice was very sure she understood Karin but her verbalizing was the easier way for her to figure out what she was being given.

”Something like that.” The Lady of Demons drew her hands away. ”Just remember you only have a certain number of rounds, so use them wisely.”

Upon that confirmation Alice couldn’t help but smile brightly at the woman. ” I will use them only as needed and as effectively as possible. Thank you my Lady, truly thank you.” Alice gingerly reached out and pulled the boxes closer to her, just before her pistols that still rested before her on the table. Alice left the smaller Power case closed-instead popping open the larger white one and clinically handling the bullets that weren’t meant to kill.

”You’re welcome, Ms. Leon.” The Lady began to stand then, before she turned to walk towards the doors. ”I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.”



Her mouth had been dry and her senses on end ever since that odd blonde child of a woman had “welcomed” them at the front gates and it had only gotten worse as they entered into the mansion that made no sense and did nothing but hurt her head. Being inside made her nervous and made her want to leave. Stark couldn’t figure out what it was that was making her feel like that but she would bet her small collection of books that it was the terrifying woman who drank her blood tea at the top of the table.

The same woman that Stark had to force herself to look away from. She knew, recognizing it as it was happening, that she was staring down and curling in on herself. Her shoulders coming in and her back curving slightly to make herself as small as possible. It was something she’d done for years in the Jasian household she’d been assigned to protect and as much as it made her stomach churn she didn’t want to make herself bold or known.

When the little blonde [strike]monster[/strike] woman had shown her to her room Stark found herself still unable to look at the girl but able to somehow speak-even only shortly. ”Thank you My Lady.” Wincing at her own words Stark hid out in the room provided to her and didn’t end up sleeping for quite some time until her body forced her into sleeping.

When the water mage had woken up it was due to her body’s clock….and her growling stomach. It took quite a bit of mental preparation to get going, including poking her head out into the hallway from a crack in the door and looking left then right and even above (demons hang out on the ceiling or something like that, right?) before she timidly ventured out into the hallway. Her travels were short as she found herself presented with a simple door that, when she gathered enough courage to open, led right to a stocked but empty kitchen.

The realization as to where she was only made her stomach growl louder. Stark shifted her gaze around once more before entering in fully and moving towards the cabinets, ”Please not blood please not blood please not blood….’ She muttered under her breath as she reaching to open the door.

Stark had plenty of reason to think that the door may have led to a cabinet stocked with the life fluid of many souls; after all, the kitchen smelled too much like iron than it should have, after all. However, Stark was lucky enough to have happened upon one of the smaller kitchens (after all, a kitchen behind a single door could only be so big in this home) set aside for guests, which meant that it was less likely to see the… preparations the Lady had done for her own meals and her sister’s.

The cabinet instead held what could be called, for lack of a better term, “normal” food, dried and preserved as necessary. There also happened to be plenty of fresh fruit, bread, and the like, all seemingly prepared the moment before Stark entered the room-

”Hungry, are we?”

The voice came from behind Stark, and with it came the sound of the door to the kitchen shutting quite heavily. In front of it stood the Lady of Demons herself, watching Stark carefully with her smile on her face, eyes narrowed ever slightly.

Stark had just wrapped her hand around a sizable Apple when both the voice of the terrifying woman and the loud sound of the door closing rang out in the otherwise quiet room.

She stood straight up and folded her hands behind her back like a good little servant with the apple still between her fingers. She locked eyes with the demoness for a moment before looking away.

“I'm very sorry my Lady. I simply wanted a snack.”

The Lady of Demons wasn’t upset; very clearly she didn’t care at all, what with the shrug she gave and the dismissive little flutter of her hand. ”Then have yourself a snack. Have a meal, if you like. You are a guest here, after all, and you simply have to be comfortable. So don’t feel guilty for having to eat.”

Stark’s mouth ran dry as she struggled for some kind of a response. Should she offer something to her? Make her food...but what if she didn't eat food? Starks thoughts flashes to the blood Karin had put in her tea as she swallowed- or at least attempted to.

“Thank you, Lady Renata.” She shifted awkwardly before opening her mouth again, “Come by for a snack as well?” she regretted her words instantly.

The Lady of Demons chuckled at what Stark had to say, before giving a slight shake of her head. ”For your sake I hope not, considering I’m looking for you.” She turned, beginning to walk towards the door, which opened on its own before she reached it. ”When you’ve acquired the food you desire, come along.”

Stark’s eyes widened and nearly let a whimper out of her throat at Karin’s implication. She wasn't going to push her luck as she put the apple back and followed the woman out of the kitchen to where ever it was she was being led.

It was a surprisingly quick trip for the two of them, but that was only to be expected considering the Lady of Demons was leading the way. Hallways shortened in front of them with her at the helm, making the walk very short. When the two of them approached a set of double doors, they opened on their own to reveal the massive and impressive looking library beyond them. Straight through the center Lady Renata led Stark, bookshelves moving to the side to clear a path for them all the way to the space that Resalia had pretty much claimed for her own, surrounded by her books.

”Hello once again, Resalia.”

”Lady Renata. You are certainly making your… rounds today.”

”Ah, but sometimes I must when there’s so much to be done.” The Lady’s hand came up, slowly gesturing to Stark behind her. ”This is that girl I spoke to you about, and had you make those trinkets for.”

Resalia seemed unimpressed as she looked to Stark, but then again that seemed to be her normal state of being. ”I see.”

Stark simply kept her words to herself but even with Karin right there she was struggling to not look around at the breathtaking library around them. She’d give just about anything to spend a few weeks there simply learning. However she snapped back to her senses as she gave a curt bow of the head to the woman who Karin addressed as Resalia. She held her tongue at the mention of trinkets, having never felt this small before.

”Are they ready?”

”The first set is.” Resalia reached over to the side, and slowly pushed a small wooden box more directly in front of her. The Lady of Demons reached forwards, carefully picking up the box before turning back to Stark, smiling at her as she held it forwards, opening it. WIthin were two bracelets, simple in make; Silver chains, with silver blue gems set within.

”Go on then, and put them on.”

Stark was quite taken with how beautiful the jewelry was and was staring quite intently at the bracelets;snapping away when Karin have her instruction. “Put them on?” She was clearly confused but the proximity and look told her Karin wasn't joking.

The water mage carefully handled one bracelet as delicately as possible, having never handled something so beautiful before. She pulled one on before carefully taking the other and securing it.

The Lady of Demons watched her patiently, and as soon as they were on she then said calmly: ”Now slit your wrists.”

It felt as though her heart fell out through her feet but without so much as a missed beat Stark withdrew a knife Alice had given to her and made a shallow slice on either wrist. ”Is that enough?” The level tone she had was almost saddening at how hollow and obedient it had become with the underside of her wrists forward and exposed to the women. However, there was nothing to be said as the blood that rose from the cuts seemed to be pulled towards the stones.

Stark’s eyes widened in shock at the action as the knife she’d been holding moments ago clattered to the floor and things began to change. At first it felt as though her arms were on fire-like being burned by the sun only to have the feeling of millions of pin pricks be washed over by cool water. Her arms from shoulder to her fingernails shifted into something not human.

It only took a moment for the change to happen but rather than the flesh she had been used to Stark was now looking at two large scaled arms with wicked claws...and it was responding like her own body would.

She took a few sizable steps back with her arms out in front of her, the silver blue jewel of each bracelet looking like it was apart of her skin. ”What did you do to me?!”

”I simply gave you the tools you needed to draw out your true potential.” Lady Renata’s eyes were directed towards the new claws, inspecting them before she gave a nod. ”Your blood is less human than you realize; this is how you can take advantage of it.”

It was getting a bit hard for Stark to breath as she just kept flipping her ‘hands’ over and over trying to figure out how this was even possible. An innocent confused look spread across her face at the mention of her blood-of her family. ”What do you mean I am less human? My mistress told me I only had a small fraction of nonhuman in me. That nothing aside from my eyes would be different about me. What are you saying I am?” The questions just poured from her mouth in a desperate attempt for answers she’d been long denied.

”What I’m saying, Ms. Stark, is that you have a gift to make use of, and now you properly can. Do you understand me?”

Stark flinched back from her words, her clawed arms falling to her sides. ”Yes ma'am I understand.” She looked away and to the side, and after a moment the burning then soothing sensation returned her arms were back to normal, not that she would make a note of it at this point. Instead she gave a deep bow to both of them “Thank you for spending your time concerned about me and my blood.” Perhaps there was a hint of bitterness. “I will not fail in whatever it is you seem to think I will be assisting in doing.”

The Lady of Demon’s eyebrow raised ever slightly, before she nodded and with a shrug turned to begin to make her exit. ”I’m certain you’ll figure it out soon enough, Ms. Stark.”

Stark kept her mouth shut before she nodded to Resalia, “Thank you as well Ma’am. Excuse me.” Before turning and walking in the other direction of the Demoness. She would wander for another moment before checking around her and attempting to make work of the bracelets...the bracelets that weren't coming off.

The next few phrases out of her mouth would make Dalious cringe.

“Screw it. I'm eating that apple.” scowl in her face and dozens of emotions swirling inside Stark found herself in that Divine forsaken hallway and back towards the Kitchens.

---

Marco had slept well that night, though it was still rough to achieve slumber.

He sat tucked under blankets that were soft to the touch, that carried a radiating warmth, that made it hard to ignore comfort. The simple room that he was given felt right for him. It was nothing special and almost as if it was made for him. Though, after the exceptional dinner, he did not doubt that it was. He laid with his journal open, quill scratching lightly, as he worked odd equations out by the light of a bright candle. Every so often, his eyes would dart to the windows. He still felt the lump of fear that choked his breath at the thought of an invade leaping through. After a briefly, tense moment the boy tore the blankets off of him and went to cover the windows from the glare of the moon outside.

As mystifying of a sight as the moon was, the boy still felt the cold reality of fear. He drew a thick curtain over the windows, hiding himself from the gaze of the moon. He extinguished the candle with a quick wave as he crossed the room again, retreating into the cover of the blanket again. In the dark, he could feel the presence of his own mind. He could feel the fear gripping at him and drinking in the sensation of his innocence, his weakness.

He reached down to his waistline and pulled the dagger free from his night clothing. It brought him comfort and it made him feel safe. He closed his eyes and held the dagger tight as he tried on focusing his mind.

---

As morning came, or what could be described as morning despite the moon hanging above them constantly, Marco departed from his room. He was dressed and prepared for what may come, hopefully. His body was still tense earlier that night, though his mind had calmed.

He clutched the dagger close to him, wrapped again in the same cloth as always and tucked inside of his robes, and made his way through the manor. He didn't know exactly what was available to him, or whom he could have asked to guide him. He figured that he would be alright, he wasn't that easy to ignore and be forgotten right? So wandering would be alright. It recalled him of an old tale, about a young adventurer lost in the depths of a labyrinth being chased by a large beast. Marco shuddered at the thought and picked up his pace. He could only hope that there wasn't some overly large cow laying in wait for him.

There was no cow, to be certain. Though the hallways went back and forth constantly, with no clear defined path, Marco would eventually find himself coming across a destination. It was a long trip to the double doors in the hallway that seemed no different than the rest of them, but the result was certainly worth it to someone like Marco. After all, the doors would open for him, revealing the massive library beyond, the one that stretched high up above and was ridiculously long, the room alone most likely the largest thing that Marco had ever seen.

However, the path in front of Marco would once again guide him through the library. Like the hallways had done before, the shelves seemed to be set in such a way to guide him deeper and deeper into the library, though they did so much more subtly; only a turn as necessary, with more straight lines instead of corners. Eventually, it led him to the side, towards one of the walls, where one table (like many others he had already seen in the library) was set against it. There were two chairs facing the wall, and one was already occupied by the Lady of Demons herself.

She sat with her back to him, and apparently a book in her hands that she looked down to. To begin with, it seemed like she wasn't aware of him; however, there were subtle, slight changes that he might have noticed that told otherwise. After all, as he approached her head tilted slightly, but beyond that there wasn't a sign at all, and she certainly didn't turn to say anything to him.

It was a thing of beauty, a place of his dreams.

Marco's jaw dropped as the door before him opened wide. Perhaps he did die and was received by the Divine, gone to the place that his mother and father were waiting for him. More books than he thought existed, tomes and texts lost to most historians. He walked slowly through the grand hall, eyes scanning each book that seemed to captured his attention.

"Tales of Heroes and Epics...", he read the title of one that sat above him on a higher shelf. A quick look around to see if there was something that he could stand upon, sadly there wasn't. Shrugging he reached out with his arm and extended his magic forward to grasp the book. He brought it down to him and tucked it under his arm and continued to walk along the path. Wherever he was meant to go, he followed along willingly. It wasn't as if he could ignore a force that drove him like this. Though he soon wished that he had.

He stood before her, book in hand and grew tense. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, not physically at least. As he approached her he noticed the head tilt and stopped again. "Good morning, Lady Renata. May I join you?", he asked politely as he bowed. He was the one interrupting her private time, it was only proper that he should ask permission.

With the voice of the young mage the Lady of Demons finally looked up from her book slightly, and then turned her head to look towards him slightly over her shoulder. Facial expression calmly neutral to begin with, her unique sort of smiling soon came over it, her nodding slightly. Even as she nodded the chair next to her moved slightly, pulling out and turning turning so that it would be easier for him to sit down into it.

"Of course, Mr. Maxwell. I don't see any problem with it at all. Come, sit down."

The book in her hands was slightly raised, her hands nearly closing it but not quite as she looked to him instead; whatever it was, it was very old, worn down with age and its color a very faded green, what may have once been golden but were now brown letters etched into the cover in some language he couldn't recognize.

He took the offered sit with a bright smile. "Thank you, Milady," he said as he laid the book he carried on the table before him. He took notice of her book, his curiosity wonder what was inside. as Master Az'Cer always said: The older the book, the more you could learn from it.

He wasn't sure if he should ask however, seeing how she wished to keep it hidden by her movements. Instead, he opened his won book and began to read. His eyes moved rapidly as he absorbed the information. "I have a question, Milady, if you will allow me," he stated without lifting his eyes from the pages. He turned a page over and quick skimmed over legends of local heroes of Barcean, stopping once he noticed his master's name. "You said that you had gifts for us," he began after reading a quick passage.

"I am curious as to what you had in store for me."

The smirk grew on Lady Renata's face, her slowly closing her book completely and setting it gently to the side. "Curious, aren't you? The youngest usually are, and they're the most straightforward and honest about it. It's refreshing." Her hand turned over then, palm up and fingers curled slightly as she held it out towards to him. "Very well then. If you don't mind, I'd like to see that knife you've made your keepsake."

Marco nodded and placed the book down, closing the cover with a soft thud. He pushed it away to clear enough room for him to lay the dagger out. The blade was a simple design, straight sleek edges that meet at a fine point. Much of his dried blood had flaked off, though the rune pattern of his personal seal remained.

"Here it is," he said as if there wasn't anything special about the blade.

Gently she took the blade from him, and as soon as it entered her hands it began to vibrate subtly, so quickly and yet so slightly it was almost impossible to see to the naked human eye. Slowly she turned it back and forth, looking over it with almost a bored expression. "Hmmm... It seems to me, Mr. Maxwell, you have a latent talent you're just beginning to tap into. Amusingly enough, you can thank the Advisor for that, I suppose. However... You're inexperienced and untested, and blood magic can be quite dangerous, as I'm sure you know."

He nodded again and sighed a bit.

"As I have been told, by many more educated than myself. Unfortunately, I can not find a way to gain the experience to be tested." He turned to face her, a small look of despair flickering across his eyes. He had learned much and more with his time within Barcea, but there was always more to learn and more to discover. It was consuming him, day and night. It was an endless struggle and in this time of war, it felt was if there wasn't enough time. "I just want to be useful to Queen Kori and Prince Cyril. I don't want to be something that my father would be ashamed of."

"Admirable enough, but ultimately meaningless if you end up hurting yourself or those you're so desperate to assist. With that stated, allow me to temper the blade a little for you, so that they learning curve is not so steep."

Quite calmly the Lady of Demons brought her other hand over, and ran it over the edge of the blade. Though she clearly cut herself, she healed just as fast (or perhaps even faster) than the pace she sliced along her finger, her digit appearing as if it had never been harmed at all. However, the very sharpened edge of the blade was stained a bright red, and would remain that way from then on.

With the deed done, she held it back out to the young mage. "With my blood added, you should find it a little easier to grasp and control. Specifically, any blood you draw with this blade will now be yours to control. It might take a little bit of practice to begin with at first, but I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

Marco grasped the hilt of the blade and eye'd the edge of the blade in the light provided by the chandeliers above. He gave the blade a slight nudge with his magic, causing it to vibrate rapidly as the runes appeared just like before hand. "Thank you," he said briefly after staring at the blade and allowing his magic to retreat back into his person.

"Though time isn't something that we have much of a luxury of anymore, so my practice would need to begin quite rapidly." He gave the blade a slight prick against his finger, drawing small beads of blood to the surface of his skin. He slid the blood against the flat side of the dagger, much like how someone would sharpen a tool. "Sharp enough to slice flesh and armor alike, I need this to be a tool in order to protect myself and my allies." His thoughts were voiced aloud as whispers while he watched the blood form under his spell. He picked up the cloth he used before and wiped the blade off of excess fluid. The oiled cloth parted ways as it made contact along the edge, falling into two pieces as he finished.

He stared at the cloth, stained red with blood, then to his palm, gaping gash leaking blood over himself and the table that he sat at. He was in shock, because he felt no pain, and he had to react quickly. Taking a deep, shaky breath the boy used the cloth to wrap his hand up and squeezed tightly. "I-I suppose that I should be more patient than I am now."

The Lady of Demons chuckled, giving a nod. She had watched the process that the young mage had gone through with only slight interest and more than a little amusement. "That you should, Mr. Maxwell. In fact, I would concentrate on making sure you know how to stitch yourself back together before you start cutting at yourself without thinking, otherwise one day you might simply pass out."

"I-indeed, I do believe that I should work on that right now actually. E-excuse me, my Lady Renata." He said quickly as he grew more pale. He clutched the dagger close as he stood up and calmly made his way away from her. Pain started to radiate from his hand as his fingers began to grow numb. He left the book behind along with Renata, and his manners it would seem. But he didn't really care right now, his hand was on fire and he was trying his hardest not to cry.

Vesta & Lady Renata

Although Vesta slept, it would be impossible to say that she rested. She spent the night tossing and turning as nightmarish dreams of the past assaulted her and awoke that morning feeling more exhausted and stiff than ever. She eased herself to the edge of the bed, her head humming with a hangover, and grabbed for her flask. The container lifted up as if it was as light as air and she knew it was empty, not even bothering to unscrew the cap so that she could lamely attempt to lap up a few splashes of the hair of the dog. A window said that it was still dark out and a clock said that it should've been light out, meaning either the window was wrong or the Lady of Demon's needed to properly wind her clocks. Vesta pushed herself off of the bed. Her knee flared up in pain as it always did in the morning, but she forced herself to walk it off instead of steadying herself against the nightstand. Grimacing, she stepped into the hallway and made her way to the bath, ready to double back if anyone tried to greet her with a good morning. The last thing her headache needed was one of her travelling companions.

The bath had already been drawn before she had arrived and was just the right temperature where it stung when she stepped in but did not cook her afterwards. Although the bath was relaxing and Vesta tried hard to enjoy it, her mind couldn't help but drift to the past day as she sunk underneath the water. A large part of her wished it had never occurred and another part of her wished she had learned to just shut up. It wasn't even the conversation with Ambrosia that brought the thought on, although Vesta truly prayed that Cyril and Ayano never, ever asked her any questions about it. Rather, she wished that she hadn't heard what information Karin had offered them, if only because it gave more raise to problems than solutions. A day ago and Vesta was certain that if they lopped off Gartian's head they'd be fine. Now, thanks to Karin avoiding her question, she didn't even know where they could start, let alone if it was even possible for them to do anything. Immortality might be boring for some as Karin said, but apparently they made up for that boredom by being cryptic and indirect as if they forgot that, unlike them, some people have to worry about their bodies stopping and their minds decaying.

She emerged from the water and, much to her surprise, found her clothes had been folded and put dry bench across the room. Likewise, fresh food was next to the tub. What would have been a pleasant surprise to some was an alarming shock to Vesta as she thought, Speaking of decaying minds. She hobbled out of the tub, quickly dried off, and got dressed. Her clothes smelled fresh, as if the had just been laundered, and had a strange crispness to them that was almost uncomfortable. She went as quickly as she could from the bathroom, although pure hunger did force her to gobble down the breakfast greedily as she stumbled out into the eerily silent hall. Uncertain of where to go, but certainly aware that she did not want to run into any o her companions, she headed off in the opposite direction of the guest rooms. It wasn't long before she wandered herself into a narrow hallway, a dead end if not for the set of doors all the way down it.

Every door throughout the Renata Household was ornate, but these two doors happened to be more ornate than the rest, like the ones that led into the dining room everyone had been led to the day before. Apparently she was meant to find these two rather than simply being led to them however, because as she approached and saw the doors they suddenly swung inward on their own, standing open for her. Through she would be able to see the beginnings of the room, and perhaps it would be this brief sight that drew her through the doors.

The effect of the full room had much more significant impact than simply catching a glimpse, however. If a room could be more than merely perfectly clean, this room would have been a prime example of it. Carefully maintained and organized, display stands and cases made of dark wood and glass when necessary stood proud throughout the entire long room, creating rows with their positions. The room was more than long enough for each piece within the display cases and stands to not be too cramped together, so with how many pieces there were it meant the room extended on for a fair while.

Each piece was art in its own right, the kind of art that could only be achieved with a perfect grasp of focus and efficiency in mind; weapons and armor. Of those that Vesta could recognize, she would realize that there were complete sets of modern day armor from all nations towards the beginning, not only from Barcea and H'kela to even a sort of set from Gurata, but also the West as well, and the new nations flourishing there. The farther she went into the room, the older the sets became, as she would soon recognize sets from each of the God Kings' respective armies and the Rebellion as well. Soon she would start seeing older sets of each of the nations she knew, such as Barcean armor from her time...

But, more quickly than she might have expected, she began seeing sets of armor and weapons that she didn't recognize at all, from nations and times long gone. The number of how many sets there were that she couldn't recognize quickly grew. Interestingly enough, here and there pieces were set standalone, such as a strange curved and twisting blade here and a large helm in the shape of a boar there; perhaps she realized that these had once belonged to heroes and villains of recent days in some cases or thought only to be stories in other, and perhaps she would realize that many of them belonged to people that were long forgotten.

When she finally reached the end of the long room, the grandest set was waiting for her. Stood against and in some places hanging against the back wall, the last set was clearly a collection of sorts. Armor built for a tall, powerful man stood in front of her, the dark red plates coming together seamlessly, forged with an art that had been long lost. A shield of the same color was above the armor, a symbol of a sharp silver line drawn vertically with a curved line bent downwards across it, a deeply black oval cradled in the center. On the armor's left was a set of four daggers, and on its right was a large mace. The blades of each dagger seemed to be encased in ice, but this only added to their sharpness, while the core of the mace seemed to burn.

The greatest weapon of them all, however, was held by the armor out in front of it, the tip resting gently against the ground. It was a greatsword, almost as tall as she was, made of a dark, strange sort of silver metal. Simple but beautiful complete with a curved crossguard and rounded but sharp pommel, the very air around the blade seemed to be tense. Every so often a pulse seemed to turn through the blade, deep red travelling through it in waves slowly.

Vesta exhaled sharply, realizing she had been holding her breath ever since she had come onto the later part of the room. There was a sort of bizarre beauty in seeing the generations of weapons and armor tucked away that, truthfully, did little more than cause ugliness when they were put to use. How much value was there tucked away in this room alone? How much would collectors pay for one of those swords? Vesta shook her head at her own greedy thoughts, annoyed how her years of banditry still managed to linger on. In a strange way she felt as if she was disturbing a sacred place, as if she was walking through a graveyard full of unknown soldiers, and part of her felt like she should leave the room be. Even if the doors had opened themselves for her, she felt unwelcome—or perhaps it was the doors opening by themselves that made her feel ill at ease. Magic always did.

Yet she was compelled to stay, transfixed by the antiques before her. She couldn't really explain why she found them so fascinating. Her own sword was notable only for the care she gave it in keeping it sharpened and oiled. Otherwise, it was nothing more than a standard issue piece of equipment. In fact, if one asked her the night before she would've given the poor sod a lecture on how aesthetics at best add nothing to a weapon and at worst take away from its effectiveness. Yet now it was as if she was bewitched by the weapon—or perhaps she was just a more curious person than she thought she was. Whatever it was, she pulled her glove off of her right hand and began to reach forward towards the pulsating waves. However, as her fingers were mere inches away from the blade her better, and more cautious, judgment took command of her body, and she froze.

"Alluring, isn't it?"

In that moment the silence was cut through, even if the voice spoke quietly, softly. The Lady of Demons stepped into view of Vesta on her right, having approached from behind silently; even if Vesta's senses had been exponentially better than they already were, she wouldn't have had a chance of detecting the demon's approach. The much smaller and younger looking woman didn't give Vesta even a glance, only looking to the armor and weapons as well. She reached forwards, and unlike Vesta she actually touched the blade. The weapon seemed to respond to her touch, the pulsing getting stronger, faster, more insistent, and stayed that way until she pulled her hand away, slowly lowering.

"This set belonged to my father. This armor and these weapons have seen more than any made before or since, and yet they have missed so much as well."

Lady Renata didn't sound sad as she spoke, or even slightly melancholy. However, she didn't sound proud at all; she spoke as if she was simply stating a fact, leaving it there for Vesta to pick up.

Vesta's hand had quickly drawn away at the sound of the voice; otherwise, she gave no sign that the sudden appearance of the Lady had startled her. Replacing her glove, Vesta folded her arms over her chest as if to guard herself as she eyed the Lady of Demons with suspicion. She was still annoyed that her question had been ignored in favor of frivolities and serenades, but she did not feel like pressing her issue. Her eyes fell back on the weapon and armor of what, she supposed, belonged to the former Lord of the Demons. A momentary silence fell over the room, and then Vesta cleared her throat.

"Huh...well, maybe their wielder should have had better training and more disciplined," said Vesta with little inflection, casting an aside glance towards Lady Renata. "Then they would've missed a whole lot less."

A noticeably more uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

"Sorry, did you want something?" said Vesta, looking back at the armor.

"I thought you had the eye of a warrior, Ms. Debove." Despite Vesta's pointed comment, one that many would have taken as insulting, the Lady of Demons remained calm as ever and even smiled towards the woman with that smirking sort of smile of hers. "I thought you might notice how there isn't a dent or tear in the armor. When my father died, it wasn't in his armor."

Lady Renata didn't explain any more, simply bringing up a hand ever slightly. "But more to the point, I do have a reason why I'm here. I wanted to thank you for your service to the Serios over the years, and your faithfulness to them now, even if you aren't the same person as you once were." In that moment she seemed to be distracted slightly, briefly glancing down to Vesta's leg before looking back up to her eyes once more. "Speaking of, that must hurt terribly, doesn't it?"

Vesta's eyes narrowed. She wasn't certain if the Lady was referring to her knee or to how she had changed. She supposed it didn't matter; the answer was the same: "It doesn't matter, but yes, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't painful. Still, it's what I deserve."

"Mmm... There is a point where all dues are paid, however." For a brief moment she seemed pensive, before slowly her smile returned and she nodded. "I could easily fix that for you."

"You could fi—" Vesta cut herself short as if she just realized who it was that she was talking to. "And why would you do that?"

"To prepare you for what's to come, and to bring you back up to what you were once before. You are serviceable to the Serios now; I can once more bring you back to being beneficial for them."

Vesta didn't take much time to mull it over, because she knew the longer she thought it over the more likely it was that she would talk herself out of it. She'd find some reason, some excuse, anything to screw herself over. The Serios trusted the Lady of Demons, and Vesta, for what it was worth, trusted the Serios.

"Fine. Do it," she said.

The edges of Lady Renata's lips went upwards ever slightly more, and she nodded, turning to begin walking and waving the woman along after her. "Come with me, then. We'll take care of the procedure in one of my study areas, and I'll have Resalia observe and assist. Don't worry, you'll be asleep for it, so you won't feel a thing."

"That's reassuring," said Vesta dryly, but nevertheless she turned and followed after the girl. She paused for only a moment to look at the older Barcean armor, and then hurriedly limped after Lady Renata.

---

Within fifteen moments the process began. Before, Vesta had a brief glimpse how the mansion's halls worked when walking with the Lady of Demons when she had a distinct purpose in mind; everything was much more direct, the hallways shifting into place in front of them, twisting and turning suddenly and sometimes even sliding into place right in front of them. If Vesta had tried going anywhere else on her own, it probably would've taken her at least several minutes to reach the destination no matter how urgent her purpose was. With the Lady of Demons towing her along, that was a different story.

One sudden shift of another hallway brought Resalia to them. The purple-haired demon had her hand outstretched, resting against the wall with her other hand against her own throat. However, even as Resalia struggled to regain her breath, the Lady of Demons didn't slow as she passed her, simply gesturing in the direction she was walking, a command that Resalia nodded and obeyed.

Vesta never got to see the room that the procedure would take place. Even as the door opened in front of Lady Renata Vesta's world went dark, and she fell into a deep sleep. Before she could hit the ground the Lady of Demons waved her hand, and the woman floated up into the air as if laid upon a table, following both of the demons through the door.

The room was very, very white, the walls, ceiling, and floor the same bright color that contrasted with the rest of the masnion in its entirety. There was one table set in the center, which Vesta's body floated over to rest upon, and a few other tables and cabinets spread about. Even as Lady Renata walked over to stand next to the sleeping form of Vesta, a few of those tables slid over to her, various tools appearing upon them from very small but very sharp blades to clamps and the like.

Slowly, Resalia walked over to the other side of the table, having pulled on a sort of face mask over the lower half of her face; and for good reason, as she soon began coughing off to the side, having not yet recovered. Only when she was done did she reach down, picking up one of the blades to hold out to the Lady of Demons, who took it quite calmly.

"So this is to be simple reconstruction?"

"For the most part." With that Lady Renata gave a smile, before bringing the scalpel down to seemingly carelessly slice into Vesta's leg.

---

"Wake up."

These were the first words that Vesta heard, and they were a command to break her out of her trance. No longer was she in the white room; now, she was all the way back in her own guest room, the Lady of Demons standing next to her bedside. Below, her leg was carefully wrapped with very white bandages, not too loosely or tightly.

Vesta returned to the world of consciousness with a start, pushing herself to sit upright, and looked around the room with some alarm. It was strange to think that seeing the face of the Lady of Demons would be calming, but in this instance it was—the last thing she remembered was the other woman's face. Only that had been out in a hallway, not in her guestroom. She batted her eyes with slight confusion and slid her body back so that she could rest against the headboard. The fugue state quickly left her mind as the sheets slipped away and her eyes fell on the bandages. She reached forward to pull away the bandages, but hesitated as her fingers touched the cotton wraps. Questioningly, she looked over at Lady Renata and, seeing no visible cues for her to shy away, pulled them back to reveal her right knee.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about her knee, really, and that alone was astonishing. It wasn't gnarled, or bruised, or slightly misshapen, or somewhat off center. It was just a knee. A choking sound escaped Vesta's throat as she drew her hand up to her lips to catch it. She carefully bent her right leg. It was a little numb, yes, but she heard no cricks and felt no needles of pain shoot through her. She stretched her leg out, a little faster this time, and then pulled it back in as if to see if the last time was a fluke. It wasn't. Amazingly, it wasn't. Turning, she stared at Lady Renata with a still somewhat shocked look on her face—deep down inside, she hadn't really believed the other woman when she said she would fix it.

"H-how?" she said, stammering. She had tried many things in her years to fix her knee. Medicine. Magic. None had worked. "How did you..."

The Lady of Demons seemed to be pleased by Vesta's shocked and disbelieving reaction; after all, it came from a good place. Perhaps it was Vesta's way of showing gratitude, even if years of abnormally rough leaving had left her unable to properly expressing it. Shrugging, Lady Renata held her hand out to the side in a lazy gesture, before reaching down to lightly tap Vesta's repaired knee. "Something like this is easy enough for someone like me, Ms. Debove. Be careful to begin with, seeing as it's been coddled for years; work your strength up in that leg again, and you should be closer to what you once were before."

Vesta winced as the other woman tapped her knee. Of course, the touch did not hurt a single bit, and Vesta was rather annoyed with her own habitual reaction. It wouldn't be hard to follow Lady Renata's cautionary order; Vesta was so used to being lame that she doubted she'd start sprinting marathons because she'd be too distracted by her own ability to just walk without a pronounced limp. Still, the thought that she would be able to one day get her speed even close to how it had been years ago filled her with warmth. She realized she was smiling. Embarrassed, Vesta bowed her head to hide her elation, her short hair falling over her eyes.

"I see. Thank you, Lady Renata," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I...thank you."

The Lady of Demons nodded ever slightly, eyes almost closing as she did so but not quite. Hand pulling away from Vesta's knee, she held her hand out to the side, saying, "You're welcome Ms. Debove, but that's not all. It would be cruel to return your mobility to you only to leave you completely defenseless against those that might do worse than cripple you." As she spoke, shadows leapt upwards and danced along her hand from her sleeve, before beginning to rapidly solidify. In just a few seconds a dagger formed in her hand, more black in hilt and sheath more than anything else, and undoubtedly the blade matched as well. This she held out to Vesta.

"This is not a blade meant to be used while skinning animals. It is not a blade to be used when you are fighting your lessers or your equals. Only resort to using this blade when you fight someone stronger than yourself, and it might be able to keep you alive."

Vesta grabbed the dagger from the Lady. It had a nice weight to it, and she nodded along and listened as she inspected the ebony blade. The last bit Lady Renata said reminded Vesta of why any of them were there in the first place and drew her out of her elated state. Someone stronger than myself, you say...

"Save it for the Manu Propria and their creations, then?" she said, tucking the dagger into her belt. It would have been nice to have the blade the night of the assault on the castle. "Very well, although I fear I will be resorting to using it quite often in the days to come."

"Perhaps to begin with." The Lady of Demons said with a nod, pulling away slightly. She turned, beginning to walk away, looking over the nearby cabinet as if she had found something interesting. "Go on and stand. May as well be absolutely certain."

Standing. Yes, she would at one point have to do that; it might as well be now. Vesta twisted her body so that her legs draped over the edge of the mattress and she felt her feet brush against the ground. There was a moment's hesitation as an image flooded into her mind of her jumping to her feet only for a sickeningly audible crunch to ring out as her knee gave underneath her weight. Vesta, remembering Lady Renata's words to take it easy at first, reached out with her hand and steadied herself against the wooden bed frame as she got up. Slowly, she let go of the post as if it was the only thing keeping her on two feet. She could feel her weight shifting below her, but there was no loud pop. Vesta took a step; then she took another. Seconds later and she had paced a complete circle around the room, her hand covering her agape mouth the entire time. She strolled back over to Lady Renata and then, much to her own surprise, threw her arms around the Lady of Demons and gave her a thankful, if rather awkward and stiff, hug.

"Um, sorry," she said, releasing the other woman from her embrace and wiping at her eyes. "I'm just a bit, aha, overwhelmed."

The Lady of Demons had been quite cold to the touch; it was as if Vesta had hugged a (much shorter) pillar of ice. At the initial touch Lady Renata bristled, but after a moment she just gave a soft, accepting sigh before giving Vesta the slightest of pats. After the woman pulled away, Lady Renata took a moment to inspect over herself, making sure her dress was still on straight and hadn't been tarnished by wrinkles thanks to the contact, and after briefly brushing her hands against her stomach to clear some suspected blemish from her, she looked back up to Vesta and gave her the usual smile.

"I am not exactly surprised you are. It is certainly a sudden return to proper form."

"Yeah. Yeah," she said, sitting back down on the mattress. The soft smile on her face faltered slightly, her restless night catching up with her body. "I think all this excitement wore me down a bit. Thank you again, but may I be alone for a while?"

Lady Renata nodded in response, before she turned to begin walking towards the door without a second glance back. "Of course, Ms. Debove. Do rest well."

---

The Return

Wooden wheels rhythmically clicked against the cobblestone road as the carriage slowly wound its way up the Sapphire Road to the Kirun. Wind, cool but not freezing, rushed between the crags that lined the road, creating a loud, piercing howl. Normally the road up to the city was more lively, packed with merchants and travellers, but the start of Gartian’s aggressions had saw to a momentary lapse in foot traffic. Still, the lone passenger of the carriage could hear his driver shouting greetings to other cabbies as he leaned against the window, staring up at the granite city and the snow-covered mountaintops that loomed over it like an accent. It was a pleasant sight, and the setting sun seemed to make everything shimmer like silver. Breathtaking, even, especially when one considered the hours of dry, dull desert they had just driven through.

The carriage passed easily enough through the checkpoints—the men had been waiting for it to arrival for some time, it seemed—and it wasn’t long before they passed underneath the main gate. Fountains dedicated to Danmun and marble statues of long dead men lined the main promenade before terminating into a sea of canopies and tents. Even with the unusually slow traffic and the later hour the sound emerging from the bazaar was a still lively as ever. Yet as the carriage drew by a hush fell over the throngs of haggling shoppers, and it was only when the carriage veered north towards the temple of Danmun that the haggling resumed. It wasn’t much longer after the carriage passed by the twin temples to Danmun that it stopped outside of a large gate. It would not be allowed to go any further.

The passenger stepped out of the carriage and walked towards the golden gate. Although no hail was given, the men guarding it instantly recognized him and opened the doors to reveal the lavish palace behind it. The color of obsidian and tinted with trim of gold lined with amethysts, it appeared as if the palace sort of emerged out of the mountain behind it. The passenger sighed. He thought he’d be happier to see it, considering how long it had been, but now he could only feel dread growing in his belly. Still, there seemed to be nowhere else for him now, and, more importantly, there were two very important people waiting here for him. Taking a second to straighten out his clothes that had been wrinkled by sitting for so long, the man took one more moment to contemplate leaving before the golden gates closed behind him with a slam, sealing him in.

For better or worse, Ennis Cade was home.

Halls after halls, doors to nothing interesting. Her direction was unknown at first, simply wandering through the Demons' home. She looked out windows as she passed them, to see basically the same scenery from all of them. Arms behind her head, legs kicking forward with each step, tail swinging slightly as she went. Her mind wandered thinking about nothing in particular. Thoughts brushed on what was to come, what had come to pass, and lingered a bit longer on Seryosa.

It was no mystery that she missed her home, and family that had chosen her. The one thing that surprised her was that she honestly missed the cold. At first, she'd hated it. For years she could barely tolerate the wind's chilled bite, but now that she was out of it... A sigh escaped her lips and eyes fell to the floor, watching her feet, rather than taking in the sights from windows and walls she'd been taking in previously. That's when her thoughts fell as well, onto what the Divine had said on their way to this place; "If she was wrong... I'll make her proud."

Something stopped her though. She looked down toward where the sound came from - a rumbling grumble of discontent from her stomach. That's when she knew where she needed to go. She needed food, and so her arms dropped, to cross over her abdomen as if it were in pain, and made way down the halls once more.

Since she had a destination in mind, her journey was no longer aimless. Halls that only had turns every so often suddenly began to turn every few steps, as if creating a shortcut to her destination. Soon enough, rather than repeatedly coming across nothing of interest, she was approaching a set of large and heavy double doors, both of which opened for her. Beyond happened to be just what she was looking for, even if it wasn't quite what she expected. Part of that had to do with the fact that Thuraya certainly wasn't used to clean and well organized kitchens, but there was something else about the kitchens that was just a little off...

The room was large and had plenty of appliances and tools to use for cooking, but that was to be expected at that point. No, what wasn't quite right was the smell that lingered in the room. Though very clearly constantly cleaned and used to cook the grandest of foods, beyond the leftover scents of everything from cakes baked long ago to vegetables cooked to perfection was an underlying metallic sort of scent. To the sheltered it might have been difficult to recognized, but to someone used to battle like Thuraya was it would be immediately clear that the smell was-

"My, my. It seems the Prince's group has a habit of getting hungry." These words came directly from Thuraya's left even as the Lady of Demons stepped past her into view, heading farther into the kitchen. There had been no signal of her presence before, not even the lightest of footsteps or the gentlest of breaths; for all it mattered, it was like Lady Renata had simply come into being in that very spot. Smiling over her shoulder, the Lady nodded gently off to her right, where rows upon rows of thin doors lined one wall. "Over there is the pantries, if you want something small and dry. If you want something heavier, like meat on the other hand, well..."

She jumped slightly at the sound of Karin's voice. Head quickly turned to where she appeared and eyes widened, tail curled slightly in a defensive way, but she very quickly relaxed, eyes shifting toward the pantries. "When you fight, it's important to not do so on an empty stomach." she noted.

The scorpionfolk hesitated, looking back toward the Lady of Demons before she took a couple steps at first, then made way over to the doors. The smell of the kitchens was a little heavy, and was honestly a little unsettling, yet comforting at the same time... She'd lived for battle, blood was not an uncommon scent to her, yet still she was scared of opening a door and getting coated in the stuff somehow. Cautiously, her hand opened a door, after a look through she decided that the latter option was much more appealing.

She closed the pantry door and turned back toward Lady Renata. "Meat sounds good, actually..." she replied.

The Lady of Demons' smile seemed to grow slightly then, before she gave a slight shrug. "Very well then, if you insist. These doors over here." Giving a sort of lazy beckoning gesture with her hand, Lady Renata stepped over to two doors that were set aside from the pantries. Unlike the rest of the doors that Thuraya had seen that day, these two were made of a heavy dark metal, one that gently reflected light. With another wave of her hand the doors opened, and immediately a deep chill set into the kitchen, a mist of ice crystals gently billowing from the doors to slowly continue to spread across the floor.

Quite unbothered by the extreme cold, which made the trip into the mountains seem quite warm in comparison and even put all but the most northern reaches of Gurata to shame, Lady Renata stepped into the frozen room. The walls and ceiling were coated with a thick and reflective ice, though the floor was completely bare and made of tile. Within, there were three sections, each with a clear divide in between. The one that was the front left corner of the large room was set with many things meant to be kept cold but weren't meat, everything from milk to various creams or substances like butter. In the front right corner there was plenty of meat, some ready to cook and some already prepared to serve; everything from pork to beef to chicken was set on the shelves and in containers, carefully labeled and separated. This was the corner that the Lady of Demons directed her hand to, saying, "What you might be interested would be over there. Take whatever you like."

The entire back half of the room was dedicated to the last section, and its contents would hopefully never be found in any other kitchen. The entire back wall was dedicated to shelves, and on these shelves were large cylinder glass containers. These containers were filled with deep red liquids, each type of blood clearly labeled along with details like dates and locations. In front of this wall of shelves and containers hung many large and covered forms from the ceilings in organized rows, each longer than they were wide, the material wrapped around them white, and there were more shelves to either side with containers...

There was no subtlety to be had for this section of the room. With the blood she consumed the Lady of Demons kept bodies, some hanging whole from the ceiling above and some already separated into various pieces, at various points along the spectrum of preparation as they were kept in containers just as the meat of cow, pig, chicken, and otherwise were kept just a few feet away.

Thuraya followed Karin into the cold room, looking around to the various choices she had. The cold was almost refreshing and comforting, but perhaps a bit too cold at first. She didn't mind after a moment of seeing the meats laid out for her to pick from. Her mind told her not to stare in the other direction, but couldn't help after peripheral caught sight. The red was honestly enticing to look at, but when she actually locked on, rather than seeing it from the corner of her eye, the emerald hues seemed to dull a bit and her face paled slightly. That's when her gaze moved around that area, reaction getting a little more intense.

She took a step back then, and before she knew it, she was reaching for a thick, uncooked steak from one of the containers and turned with it to quickly leave. Of course, something a little more prepared would've been better, considering how hungry she was, but she'd rather cook it herself than stand in that room any longer. "Th-this will do." she said quickly and quietly, ducking back through the door into the kitchen. She hadn't realized, but she'd been holding her breath as well, once out of sight, she released a heavy sigh, and took another deep breath through her nose. She wouldn't question it, and honestly she wasn't sure why she hadn't expected to see something like that. But suddenly she was almost preferring her fear of the pantries spewing blood on her over what she'd seen.

"My my, you really must be hungry. I'll have the servants prepare you larger portions during the served meals." The Lady of Demons was much too perceptive to miss the change that came over Thuraya, but to her credit she barely reacted to it. The smirk part of her smile grew a little, but thankfully (for Thuraya's sake) she didn't laugh at the reaction, simply turning to follow the warrior out. As soon as they were both clear of the doors they shut behind the two, and the change in the temperature of the room was instant; the freezing chill was gone, instead replaced by the cool that could be found throughout the mansion.

Of course, the Lady of Demons wasn't done with Thuraya yet. "You know how to cook on a stove top rather than a fire, yes? If not that's no problem, I'll simply have it prepared for you instead."

She looked at the steak in her hand and then to the stove. She nodded slightly in response, "Yes, I'll be fine to cook it myself."

She looked around only a moment in search of a pan and placed it on the stove, putting the steak in, making way to the pantry doors again, much less cautiously this time opening them, one after the other in search of spices, along with other cupboard doors being searched through until she found what she was after. She made way back to the stove, her hand reaching to turn it on and began putting what she'd gathered onto the steak. Assorted spices; black pepper, red pepper flakes, along with a clove of garlic and some chunks of onion that she quickly cut herself while the steak first started to give the sound of a satisfying sizzle. Adding them to the pan as well she had only to wait for now. She turned toward Karin again as it continued to cook, before looking for a fork.. a knife.. a spatula, anything.

"So, I'm guessing you've got business with me, not the kitchen, hm?"

"You could say that." The Lady of Demons seemed to be pleased by the smell of the steak, her standing nearby to watch Thuraya cook it, focused entirely on the meat rather than the woman cooking it. When the Guratan spoke however she looked up, giving a slight nod. "First, I have a question for you. Tell me, why do you think you lost to the brothers Maeneld during your fight with the two of them in Gurata?"

Thoughts of the "why" only ran through her mind for a moment. Jaw clenched slightly and she prodded at her steak a bit with the fork she'd found before mixing the onions a bit to fry along with the meat. "Simple, I wasn't strong enough. I'm still not, but I will be." her tone was flat, and completely serious, perhaps a bit of anger behind it. "If it comes to me spending no time for rest, I will do it. I will become stronger. Stronger than all of them. I let Seryosa down and it won't happen again."

"Your dedication to your Chief is certainly admirable. However, if you truly do think pushing yourself without rest is wise, you have much to learn. It might work to begin with, but in the long term you would only harm those you serve, not aid. Still, I understand why you feel such a way, which is why I want to help." For a moment the Lady of Demons stopped, eyes closing as she slowly inhaled, clearly savoring even the smell of the steak; however, that would be the last time, as apparently any cooking beyond that point was too much for her tastes. As she once more returned to speaking, her eyes opened once more. "You did well, considering you went against two Divineborn without any knowledge. Now, though, you know your next great opponent will be a Divineborn, which means you can prepare." Both hands went out then. "May I hold your blade for a moment?"

She knew the demon was right. But at this point she would do anything, which is likely why after flipping the steak she turned around and reached above her left shoulder to grab the handle of her sword. With a light tug, the clasp around it unclasped and she pulled the tip from it's sheath. She looked at it a moment herself, and then to the Lady's small frame. The blade was easily bigger than her(Hell, it appeared too big for Thuraya to even weild properly), but when she held it out, she placed it, edge toward herself, into Karin's hands.

"Not many people get to touch her, many less get to hold her. You're the first in years." If the small demon were to look closely, she would see the nicks in it's edge, especially toward the point at the end that had been repaired with an odd sort of expertise, but definitely not a master at forging. "So be careful." she turned back to the steak then, and pushed it around the pan a bit, piled the onions on top of it and began her search for a plate, next, while it finished cooking.

Carefully the Lady of Demons took the blade when it was presented to her, and despite her small (and almost frail) appearing form she held it with ease. Slowly she turned, holding the blade out in front of her, carefully looking it over and inspecting the various details along it, including its edge. After a moment she gave a nod, as if she confirmed something to herself, before carefully lowering the blade slightly, holding it out more in front of herself.

"Ah, I see. Yes, there was no way you could win with this weapon, not as you are."

As the small demon looked over her blade, Thuraya was reaching for a plate. Her eyes occasionally looking back to Karin to make sure her blade was still fine. She wasn't sure if she trusted the Lady, but if she could help, then it would have to start with trust on Thuraya's part... right?

Once plate was in-hand, she went back to the stove and stabbed the steak with the fork and lifted it out onto the plate, afterwards lifting the pan and tilting it a bit to gently get the onions out. While back home she wouldn't have had to mind so much, this pan looked pretty fancy, and didn't have any scrapes or scratches in it... Best not make any, she figured.

She found a knife in the same place she'd found the fork, and took it to seem polite, at the very least, and finally, with food, her mind was able to focus a little better. She stood at the counter, side toward Karin, and she cut the first piece of her steak off, one that was too large for one bite, but at least she'd tried... meat came to mouth and teeth ripped off a chunk of the cut portion. After savouring the flavour for a moment, she let Lady Renata's words sink in and process.

"So... How can I win then? I don't have powers like them, all I have is my strength, which clearly isn't enough."

"When it comes to your strength, you'll simply have to make yourself stronger still. It will certainly be a struggle, as you are already clearly very strong... for the average mortal. You must step beyond those bounds if you wish to survive. However, that won't do you any good now, so allow me to increase your chances of survival."

Suddenly, the Lady of Demons held the blade with one hand quite easily. With the other she suddenly drew her hand down as far along the edge as she could go, slicing so quickly that no blood was actually left behind on the edge, the cut opening afterwards. Holding the large wound above the blade calmly, several drops of blood began to fall, creating a thick (and somehow perfect circle). As the blood settled, she held her hand off to the side, the wound rapidly closing itself without leaving a mark behind.

A slight hiss filled the air then, along with a strong acrid smell. From the blood and blade a light amount of smoke began to rise as the blood began to bubble, boiling up as it began to eat through the blade. When the Lady had ran her hand down the edge of the blade quickly, Thuraya's own hand clenched into a fist as though she'd felt it as well, but simply continued to eat her steak, occasionally poking at the fried onions with her fork to eat those as well. It was the scent of burning that really caught her attention. Fork hit plate with a short clatter and her steps took her closer to the demon, "Woah, woah, no nonono!" she looked at the hole forming and reached for the blade to take it back.

Before Thuraya could touch the blade however, the Lady of Demons suddenly lashed out. Though the blade remained perfectly in place even as she moved, the Lady swung the blade with one hand easily, and struck Thuraya with the flat so had that it was enough to take the scorpionfolk woman off her feet, sending her crashing against the wall even as the Lady of Demons once more relaxed. By the time the hole (which was still a perfect circle) was complete, the blood had eaten itself away along with the metal.

She held her free hand out to the side, giving a slight shake, and suddenly her own shadow rose up to meet her hand, like a solid form. The shadow cradled a gem, rounded perfectly, that was a deep, glimmering sort of yellow. Placing it carefully into the hole, the Lady of Demons cut herself once again, this time her thumb, and on both sides of the blade she carefully applied the blood where the gem and metal met. Once more the heavy, burning scent filled the air, but this time nothing was destroyed; instead, the gem was fused into the blade.

Her thumb healed, she held the blade back out to its owner, calmly as if nothing had happened at all. "There. That will do."

Thuraya gave a soft hiss under her breath as she pulled herself away from the wall. A pain shot down her tail as she moved and the hiss faded into a slight groan. When she looked at her blade next, it had the gem in it. She took it back as it was handed to her and she looked over the once-was-hole and frowned. It was sturdy, didn't look like it'd come out. Arm stretched out to swing the blade, careful not to hit anything with it, the control was nice. It didn't throw off the balance and that was really what she was most worried about.

"Alright, so now my blade's been given the prettiest princess award, how will this help?"

The smirk on the Lady of Demons face seemed to grow a little. "That is a crystal that has been charged with power, courtesy of Resalia Narratio. I'm sure you'll meet her at some point. The power it is charged with is one that you have an affinity for; that of earth. By making contact with the ground with your blade, you will now be able to shift and move it; the longer you maintain contact, the more you will be able to do at once."

Eyes shifted from Karin to the blade, lingering on the gem as she brought the sword in closer. "I see..." was all she said at first, as she lifted it over her shoulder and placed the tip back into it's sheath hanging on her back, clasping the handle into it's own brace. "I'll have to try it out... But, I've never used any sort of power like this before, how does it work? I mean.. Me? Use any form of magic?" she laughed a little and shook her head, instead focusing on her steak again, taking another bite, knife all but forgotten as she stood with more than half a steak on the fork, tearing pieces away to eat, rather than cutting them off. "There's a reason normal people can't use magic, we just aren't meant to."

"With that attitude, you never will." The Lady of Demons gave the slightest of sniffs, before shrugging slowly. "It's a little more simple than you realize. After all, the crystal will do most of the work for you. It may take some getting used to, but all you will have to do is project your thoughts onto the gem, those thoughts being what you want to do with the earth; almost as if you are speaking to someone, though if you do so out loud then your enemy will hear it at the same time. Actually speaking might be easier, but I would work to move past that one day if I were you."

Chunk after chunk, torn off and eaten until the steak was gone, she listened to how the gem worked and nodded slightly at the end, but it was uncertain if it was a nod of understanding or just trying to swallow the last piece of steak that was clearly too big a bite for anyone.

"Alright. I'll practice. Anywhere good near-by that you wouldn't mind being torn up?"

Lady Renata gave a slight wave of her hand. "Just take it beyond the fence, in the space outside before the forest. That should be good enough."

"Alright.. I'll check it out, and uh... I guess, hope I can tear up some earth." she gave a nervous chuckle and shook her head before picking up all the onions on her plate at once and stuffing them into her mouth. She picked up the empty plate and looked around. Hesitating a moment, she walked over to the sink and put it in. She turned the water on for a moment to rinse it off and then turned back to Karin. She wasn't sure if she should wash the plate... or... just leave it..? She had servants who would do that, right? Or... whatever... This place was really clean...

Deciding to leave it rinsed, she awkwardly stretched and walked toward the door. "Uhhh, yup. Kay... I'll... Be outside then."

Watching her constantly with those shining red eyes, the Lady of Demons nodded even as she continued to smirk. "Have fun, Ms. Azize."

The Renata Household - Outside

While many took their time at Lady Renata's home to spend time to themselves, after being in such a large group for so long, the Sentinels made no such separation. They had spent so long together that they were well used to the presence of the others. To separate even for a break was rare, and so they ended up together outside. With Diane and Ayano sitting close to one of the fountains, the woman gently brushing the Princess' hair as she often did, the others stood nearby. While Alasa fired away at the same tree over and over again with his bow, Sampson indulged in a few treats that had been left at his bedside that morning, and Gortul sharpened his axe with a great amount of care.

The Prince was the last one to join up with the group, having done some exploring around the mansion himself beforehand. As Ayano jumped up to run over and directly greet him with a hug, the other Sentinels greeted them in their own ways; both Alasa and Diane with nods, while Sampson smiled and Gortul grinned. Giving Ayano a pat on the head, the Prince led the Princess back over to Diane even as she chattered away about the strange place they found themselves in.

In the moment he turned around after settling Ayano down the Prince realized that there was one more person in their midst. The Lady of Demons herself stood there, at the point to almost be an even distance from all of them. Once more she had simply appeared, with not a sign given beforehand, so suddenly it was like she had been there the entire time. The Prince startled slightly, and Alasa's arrow missed the grouping he was making in the tree.

"Greetings Prince and Princess Serio, and the Sentinels. I trust you've been enjoying your stay so far?"

Along with various forms of affirmation from the others, Cyril replied with, "Of course, Lady Renata. Thank you once again for allowing us to stay."

"Of course, Prince Serio." In that moment Lady Renata brought both hands up, gesturing slowly and gently towards herself. "All of you, come here so we can get to the point of the matter. I have gifts to give."

With only a brief moment of confusion did the group hesitate, before beginning to close around the Lady of Demons. In turn the Lady would face each of them, and when she presented their gifts she drew them from their own shadow, each one suddenly shifting around in turn to come close to Lady Renata as necessary.

"To you, Alasa, I give seven arrows. Use them only with the intent to kill a member of the Manu Propria, or a threat of that caliber, otherwise you will be wasting them." The small black quiver that appeared in her hands was handed over, and upon receiving it Alasa drew one of the arrows to inspect it. The shaft was made of a dark wood, the fletch of feathers he couldn't quite identify, and the tip seemed to be made of silver; he nodded, accepting the gift as he placed the quiver on his back after replacing the arrow, setting it next to his other quiver.

"Your shield please, Sampson." When she received the defensive piece of equipment Sampson's own shadow rose up, but rather than leaving an item she directly it to run over the shield instead. It encompassed it completely briefly, before falling back to Sampson; the shield remained, but now new deeply black lines were etched into it, seeming to eat at the light around them. The modified shield was handed back to its own as the Lady said, "I have strengthened it for you. You are the closest the Sentinels have to a dedicated defender; it wouldn't do if your shield shattered under the first blow."

Even as Sampson thanked her, she was already looking to Gortul next. The shadows that curled into her hand left behind a black, somewhat rounded stone, one she held out to the much bigger man with both hands. "You might recognize this as a whetstone. However, I would not use this every day; it will fade far more quickly than one you might already have. Use it only when you know you have a great battle approaching, and watch how it will affect your performance." Gortul began to clumsily thank the Lady, but already she was moving on.

To Diane she turned next, and a hint of deeper amusement creeped into her eyes and smile. "You are a healer, yet you're more than prepared to defend yourself and those around you when necessary. Unfortunately, your tools aren't suited for such work." Her hand went out, and Diane's shadow stretched upwards into her hand, forming a long staff. It was simple, seeming to be made of a lightweight metal with the only decoration being the red jewel that was set into the end. This was handed over to the other woman even as the Lady said, "This should be a little more durable, though even it will have a breaking point."

She then turned to Ayano, and her smile was quite gentle. "If your fortune holds out, Princess Serio, you will never see battle. There is no need to give you anything for it, as I have given nearly everyone else. So, for you, I give you something I think you might be able to make use of." From shadow a small vial of clear crystal appeared in her hands, and within was a clear fluid. Carefully, she placed this into Ayano's hands, and from there guided the Princess so that she could properly explore the vial. "This is a little experiment from long ago, in the replication of color. This liquid is prepared to become paint as soon as it is introduced to a color; simply place the vial against the object that has the color you desire to cause it to change. It will be able to change as many times as you like until you open the vial for the first time; then, it will become paint, and will remain whatever the last color you selected is. So, make sure you are pleased with the color you have picked."

Finally, she moved on, to the Prince himself. Once there she was silent for a moment, and then her eyebrow raised slightly as her smile once more returned to its smirking form, and she gave a slight shrug. "Gift? For you, Prince Serio, I have nothing, because you need not one from me."

Briefly, the Prince's brow furrowed, before he tensed slightly; and then he nodded, calmly smiling. "I understand, Lady Renata. Thank you for all that you've done so far."

Turning, the Lady of Demons nodded as she began to walk, both Alasa and Sampson stepping out of her way so that she could leave the group. "Of course, Prince Serio. I'll speak to you later."

---

The Renata Household - Deep in the Halls

It was one of the rare times Calypso found herself completely alone. Usually she was attached to someone else, typically Etsuko, and if not the Diviner in rare cases it was with someone like the Prince. In that moment, however, she found herself strangely alone. She hadn't seen anyone for almost a hour, in fact, even as she wandered through the hallways with no destination in mind.

She wouldn't call herself lost, but the hallways certainly didn't seem to be leading her anywhere. In fact, it had reached the point that she found herself in long stretches of hallway with nothing else; no doors and no windows, and even the decorations such as vases and paintings along with the lighting fixtures were rapidly becoming scarce. Steadily she was heading into unmapped territory of the mansion, for lack of a better term, and yet she proceeded on as if it were completely normal.

Before she could go too far, though, she heard something that brought her to a stop. Though the sound was something that, in a normal day, was completely normal, she was almost startled by hearing footsteps other than her own for quite a while. Slowly turning, she saw a light approaching through the darker than usual hallways, slowly but surely getting closer; as her eyes adjusted, she realized that it was the head butler of the mansion, Richard Leto, and the light came from the candelabrum he held in his left hand.

"Ah, there you are, Ms. Calypso. You've been missing for a little longer than you might realize."

"Really~? How long was that~?"

"A few hours, at this point."

"Oh my~ It certainly doesn't feel like that~"

"Yes, the time of flow is strange here for those who aren't used to it, and those who aren't aware." He turned then, giving her a nod. "Please, come with me. I'll take you back to the part of the mansion where the others are."

"Oh, thank you~" Quickly Calypso stepped over, and the two began walking their way back through the hallways once more with the butler at the lead. Even with someone with a destination in mind guiding the both of them, Calypso had gone so far off the "beaten path" that it took them some time to even reach hallways where doors and windows returned.

Eventually, Richard once more spoke, even as they kept walking. "You've been pulled into a struggle you weren't expecting Ms. Calypso. How does that make you feel?"

"Well, it's quite surprising...~ But I'm fine with it...~"

"And how do you feel about going up against those who are undoubtedly stronger than you, and may in fact kill you?"

"Well, it doesn't sound that pleasant when you put it that way...~ But what choice do I have~? What happens will happen...~"

"That certainly is one way to think of it, as accepting as it is... However, I do believe that you can be strong enough to properly fight back, and so does the Lady of Demons. That's why she left the matter of your gift to me."

"Oh~? Really~? And what would that be~?" In that moment the air suddenly shifted around the both of them, something unseen moving through the space. It caused Calypso to blink, looking around as a strange shimmer seemed to pass through, her eyes focusing to eventually find the culprit; the thin wires that had shredded the assassins at the Capitol were surrounding them as they walked along, gently curving through the air around them, their source undoubtedly Richard himself.

"I believe you have the aptitude to use my weapon of choice. Would you like to learn?

"... Of course~"

---

The Renata Household - Entranceway

Christopher's attempts to flee and hide from his teacher weren't going so well. From what he could tell, he was going around in circles in the mansion, even though he was purposefully trying to avoid doing that. Despite taking different directions every time, never taking the same one twice, he ended up seeing the same places; the entrances to the library, the dining room, and even the stairs at the entrance of the mansion itself. More than once he went up those stairs to try a different path, and yet somehow he somehow ended up on the ground floor once again without descending another set.

It was starting to drive him more than just a little mad, and it was beginning to eat away at his paranoia.

His useless attempts to flee were brought to an end quite suddenly. As he took the first step up those stairs to once again try to stay on the upper floor, a large and heavy hand came down upon his shoulder to bring him to a stop. Christopher recognized the hand immediately, and it was enough to make him go pale but not silent:

"Agh, shit-"

"Come with me, boy." With little ceremony the Divine Paladin yanked Christopher from the stairs, beginning to practically drag him towards the front doors. Christopher only put up a brief struggle before giving up, allowing himself to be taken outside onto the front porch. Once there, the Paladin finally released him after pushing him to sit on the steps, before he took a seat as well a little ways away.

"Ow- chill out old man, that hurts-"

"Ye'll live." For a moment Damon was quiet, simply looking up towards the sky. Staying like that for moment, glasses glinting, he soon looked over to Christopher. "Yer mother sent ye with me because she knew the day would come along that ye would end up fighting against the Manu Propria. It was bound to happen one day, for a multitude of reasons."

"I really don't want to know, I've got a feeling I might be a walking cliché by the time you finish."

"If ye say so, boy. The time has come though, for ye to have something your mother wanted me to give ye in a situation like this." Carefully, Damon reached to the side. Pulling one part of his outer robes open, he pulled an object carefully wrapped in cloth from his side. It was around three feet long but quite thin, and Christopher blinked in confusion as he took it. "Go on, open it."

Briefly grumbling, Christopher slowly unwrapped the deeply purple cloth from around the object. Soon enough, in his hand he held a sheathed blade; both the handle and sheath were pure white, and the blade had a slight curve to it. Blinking again, Christopher reached to the sheath to draw it ever slightly, but as soon as his hand touched the hilt he yanked it away as if he had been shocked. When his hand had made contact with the blade, he had felt a pulse pass through the entirety of it. "The hell is this old man?"

"That is one of the Creations of one of the Aspects of the Manu Propria, that Lady Ambrosia claimed long ago. If it weren't for ye, she would have destroyed it; instead, she decided to keep it to give to ye, believing ye might be able to use it. Today is the day ye should receive it."

"It's like it's alive-"

"It is the manifestation of a Divineborn, a piece of their soul. To begin with, do not expect it to obey ye so easily. Perhaps ye might be able to break it in one day."

"Seems like a hassle... Then again everything at this point seems like it."

---

The Road East

Krissandria had been quiet the entire trip thus far, despite Alicandriella's constant chatter at her side. She hadn't even rested, despite Alicandriella's constant requests for her to sleep. She had eaten little, and despite her own efforts not to, she had cried a lot. It had been a long ride, so more sure than ever that her eye was playing tricks on her from the lack of rest and sustenance she'd almost passed right by the man who sat at the edge of the trail with a stand, three glasses filled with ice, and what she could only assume, a citrus drink.

When they got closer her sister hopped from her steed's back and laughed happily.

"OH! Goody, lemonade! Just when we needed it! Thanks, Jinn!"

When Krissandria halted and turned to face the man that, clearly, was not a figment of her imagination after all, she sighed, realizing just who it was. Alice's statement of the name, of course, helped. But it was clear she was correct when she approached her sister who held out a glass to her.

"Welcome to Jinn's House of Poon and Mercantile."

A hearty greeting if she ever heard one, fore sure. A soft sigh escaped her lips as thing fingers grasped the glass from her younger sister and she sipped the sweetened drink. "We can't stay. You know that, Alice."

The younger sister finished her glass of juice with a satisfied sigh before frowning slightly. "Well, with everything going on, we can't verywell leave him here, can we?"

Krissandria's eye shifted to the male for a moment, lips straight, eye locked. "I was instructed to-"

"Take your family."

All he could do was grin and wait.

He stared at the two females, sisters and kin, in hopes that someone would explain what exactly happened. He turned down the offer for the night of his life to rush his ass here with haste. 'Sisters, twins they were!,' he thought briefly before sighing and draining his own glass of juice. It was refreshing, ever so on a day like today. Bright skies above, not a cloud to be seen for miles.

He wanted answers and they were wasting daylight however, so he intervened

"Oh no, don't worry lil Alice. I am not family anymore, I see how it is. No, nononononono~! I don't matter, never did to begin with." He tossed his glass over his shoulder with a roll of his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "It isn't like I fought beside your big sister here in the first war. Sure I made a mistake and hurt my direct family, but I can't make mistakes. I have to be perfect after all."

He could hardly keep a straight face as he ranted however. He grinned as wide as ever, shiny white teeth on display. It didn't last for long however. He stopped ranting after a brief pause.

"What happened anyway? You are usually attached to the Queen's hip these days."

Ali seemed frantic to stop Jinn from talking after he asked what happened, and she ended up looking at her elder sister with a sad look.

"For the good of Barcea... She..." eye shifted toward the ground and she turned. "She's with the H'kelans. her tone dropped from serious to sad in an instant. Breaths deepened. "I.. I couldn't stop her. She made her choice. Now I'm tasked with telling the prince and princess... You understand we must be off."

"I think he should come with us, Kriss!"

The elder sister gave the younger a look that said no, but with the sad eyes staring at her, along with their cousin's reaction she let out a soft sigh, and flicked her head to the side. "I can't say no to her..."

"For the good of Barcea... She..."

That was all that Jinn had needed to hear. He painted the picture in his mind's eye and figured the rest out for himself. He shared in Krissandria's sigh, though it wasn't as personal. He felt a weigh climb up on his back and he realized the gravity of the situation clearly now. He placed a hand on Kirss's shoulder and nodded. "Whatever you were tasked to do by Kori, we will finish it together," he said briefly, a small smile coming back to his face. "Come on, buck up. We are going to get this shit figured out."

Krissandria gave him a small, fake smile before turning to ready her steed to start going again. "Yes... yes I'm sure we will." her tone didn't seem very convinced, though it could've easily been how tired she was becoming.

He lowered his hand and rubbed the top of Alice's head, fluffing up her blonde air. "Now, I was gonna ask your big sissy, Kirssy, if she has been taking care of herself, but I think that you will tell me a bright truth. Since she got you, has she slept at all and has she been eating well?"

"Nope.. I've been asking her to this whole time.. but even when we stopped so I could rest, she didn't take the chance." Ali opened her satchel and pulled out a small biscuit, holding it out for Jinn. "She's had a couple of these, along with some water, but not a lot. I think once we reach Lady Renata's house she may relax some.. So I guess it's best to just get there."

She looked over to her sister who was climbing back onto her horse and gave a crooked sort of look before her eyes widened and she smiled. "You two can ride together!"

"What..?"

"You can sit in front, but let Jinn steer! Then you can rest!"

"Alice, please, I-"

"Then it's settled! Great! Let's get going! time's-a-tickin'!"

Jinn's eyes widen at the sight of the biscuit, though he managed to contain himself for once. He still took the biscuit, pocketing it into his red leather jacket. He wouldn't be caught dead without this thing.

"You know, I don't really blame her. But I got something slightly better than a biscuit, if only for what it does for your body."

He went back over to the wooden crate he left laying on the ground and took the lid off. Most of his equipment was inside, folded neat and nice for easy travel. He reached in and pull out a small shack of rations, nothing too flavorful or anything special really. He took a few sticks of dried meat and offered two of them to Alice. "You both need your strength so eat up," he said as he lifted his sheathed blade onto his back. "Kriss, you look like death sweetie. No offense, but I could probably take you and tie you up right now. Besides, do you want me to run along side you guys and slow you up?"

"Try me..."

He grabbed Alice underneath her arms and lifted her up onto the other horse, winking at her. "Smart thinking," he whispered quickly before moving away. He climbed onto the other horse and gripped the reins in one had, while the other offered some meat sticks to Kirss. "Let's get this party started!"

As Jinn climbed up onto her horse after helping Ali to her own, Krissandria was clearly trying not to lean into the man for support. Her back stayed straight, and she looked quite uncomfortable, and as though she could pass out at any moment, though she let him take the reigns, and she even took the food he offered her, beginning to eat it, slowly. "We'll continue down this trail... It's still a fair ways to go, and we can't delay any longer."

Though Jinn had the reigns, she gave her horse a quick nudging kick to the side to get it going, Alicandriella's following at their side.

---

The Renata Household - The Next Day

Once more, time passed. As the previous day went by and time for typical meals happened, Richard would find and appear in front of all of them, summoning them to the dining hall to eat if they wished to. Other than that they were left to their own devices, allowed to wander as they pleased.

The second day would be the same way, at least to begin with. News was rapidly approaching, though none of the group was aware of it just yet; however, the days of rest would soon be ending.

Once more Calypso found herself on her own. However, that day she chose not to wander. While she certainly had learned her lesson (as much as Calypso could learn a lesson) about moving throughout the mansion on her own without any place in mind, that wasn’t the full reason she was remaining stationary. Rather her focus was upon the gift that she had received that day before, and learning how to use that.

Due to Richard’s recommendation she settled herself outside that day, within a small plaza area surrounded by ordered statues of faceless figures with minimal forms. Standing in the middle of them all, she held her hands out to either side. Rapidly her fingers twitched back and forth in jerking movements, as her hands yanked back and forth as well.

Around her, a few wires were at work weaving through the air in messy motions, not at all like the graceful motions that Richard wielded his with. She seemed to be having trouble keeping them on a same and consistent path, and more often than not she found them wrapping around her fingers, something that Richard warned her from allowing to happen too long, lest she lose them all.

It was difficult, but she was learning.

After her interaction with the Lady of the house Alice found herself humming and wandering until something happened.

That something was finding herself passing through doors to the outside and to quite the interesting sight. Before her was a concentrated looking Calypso with…. Wires? Alice took a quiet step further into the open area and simply observed as Calypso practiced.

Calypso was so focused that she didn’t notice Alice, at least not to begin with. She began to move her arms more fully, in slow movements as she shifted them back and forth. Despite how slow she was with her movements, and how little they were, it seemed as if the young woman was going through a great deal of labor just to accomplish them; her breathing was heavy, and sweat was freely flowing.

It was as she turned her whole body at once point, trying to bring the wires smoothly around, that she realized Alice was watching. She blinked, and her concentration broke, hands pulling back some; that seemed to send a reaction throughout the wires as a whole, as they suddenly lunged from around her back in. As they receded they lashed against the ground, leaving thin slices behind. Around her they went, to her hands... and just like that, they were gone.

”Oh, hello Alice~ How are you today~?”

Though her body stayed still, Alice’s eyes widened as the wires slices visibly into the ground. She resisted the urge to take a step back.

”I’m doing very well Miss Calypso...gifts from the Lady?” Her eyes dropping from Calypso’s own to the wires at her hands.

”No, actually~! Mr. Leto gave them to me~” Calypso’s smile seemed to grow slightly, her holding the now still wires up slightly in her hands. They seemed to be attached to her fingertips, perhaps even drawn from them. ”I’ve been working at getting better with them~ I’ve cut myself a few times, but I haven’t in the past few hours~”

A few curious steps and Alice was closer to Calypso with a smile on her lips, ”You always did come off as a fast learner. Learn any cool tricks yet?” She asked with an amused smile

”Not yet, but I haven’t had anything to practice against~ I think I’m getting fast enough to block things though, if I draw over enough wires~”

”Oh really now?” A mischievous grin spread across her features, ”How strong are those wires anyways? Think they could stop a high speed object, snap a few swords?” Of course she wasn’t speaking of fighting Calypso. Alice might be a feisty bitch but she wasn’t stupid-she knows someone stronger than her when she saw them.

Calypso nodded, seeming to bounce ever slightly with a step as she did so. [b]”I think so~! Sword would be easier, probably~ But my hope is to not have to worry about someone swinging one at me at the first place~ What I really want to make sure I can block are projectiles~”

Alice cocked her head, ”Want me to throw things at you?”

”If you’d like~ That could be quite helpful~”

Alice practically giggled in excitement as she looked around the garden for something to throw. Her eyes landed on a sizable rock. ”Ready?” Alice rolled the rock over in her hands before cocking her arm back ready to throw when Calypso gave her the go ahead. Her smile still on her face, Calypso nodded as she drew both of her arms back up.

With little more than a grin Alice launched the rock right at Calypso’s chest. The silver haired woman flexed all of her fingers at once, coiling them in as she threw both hands to the side. From the tips of her fingers the strings flowed, curving outwards. Briefly they could be seen as the light shimmered from them, sometimes disappearing along the curve as the reflection failed-

And then, suddenly, the rock split apart, sliced cleanly into a few dozen fragments. These fragments lost all velocity, clumsily falling almost straight down through the air down to Calypso’s feet, the women looking down at them as she beamed. ”See~? I’m getting there~”

”YOOOOOOO! CALYPSO THAT WAS SO COOL!” Alice’s excitement was clearly evident as she took inventory of the rocks. ”You have to do that again. That was the coolest thing I’ve seen in a long time!”

The other woman giggled, nodding as she brought her arms around in front of her once more. This time, the wires remained drawn out, slowly circling around her in their long (if slightly sloppy) arcs. ”Alright then, if you insist~”

Alice took a few more steps back, gathering a few more rock before turning with a smirk. ”Here we go!” The sniper launched another rock, gave pause and then launched a second one. Again, Calypso moved, waving her arms to the left and then back to the right; with the first movement the first rock crumbled to pieces, and with the second the other rock broke as well.

Continuing her actions she threw two at the same time with a smirk. ”Calypso, five! Rocks, zero!” she cheered with a smile. And indeed, even as she spoke the last two rocks fragmented as well, this time simultaneously as Calypso drew both of her arms together. Slowly lowering her hands afterwards, she giggled.

”I think I can defend myself well enough against rocks, at the very least…~” Alice playfully rolled her eyes, ”I would offer to shoot you but I don't feel comfortable with that idea just yet...besides aren’t you due for a break?”

”Break~? Why would I need one~?”

She blinked at her confused, ”So you’re not overworking yourself? So that you're not hurting or burnt out when you train more in the future?” Who was she kidding, Alice was one of the few ‘Humans' of the team seeing as how the vast majority of the Sentinels had a more than human power, stamina, and ability. Rather terrifying actually. She’d seen Calypso in actions with her blades and it was clear she was on a tier of her own.

”I don’t think I’m at that point yet~ I haven’t done too much so far today~”

”You’re quite the conundrum Miss Calypso, did you know that?”

The silver-haired woman tilted her head slightly, confused by still smiling. ”Why do you say that~?”

”When I first saw you I thought that you might be a regular body guard. You know, the basics...then I saw you fight. You're on a whole other level but yet you're still very kind and not nearly as intimidating as some of the others that I have you placed on the same tier as. It’s odd for sure but it’s really nice?” Alice looked away with a slight shrug. ”I guess what I mean is that you have so much power but you're still a kind person. It’s not something I see often in my line of work.”

Blinking a few times, Calypso soon shrugged. ”If you say so, I suppose~ I only have myself to go off of, really, sooooo…~”

Alice brushed off her embarrassment as she turned back to Calypso, ”Alright, come on then. I’m not going to go easy on you then.” Shedding herself of her jacket, her rifle case on her back and the other holsters on her body as she prepared to continue attempting to aid in Calypso’s training without having to deal with the standard weight of her weapons and ammunition.

Alright; so maybe things didn't go so well the first try, but that didn't stop her. If she was supposed to control this new power, she'd need more practice! And while the evening before, she had no luck with it. Perhaps with some rest she'd succeed.

She grabbed her hair, pulling it back into a high ponytail and made her way off the Lady of Demons' yard. Back to where she'd been told about the day before, where she'd gone and basically almost trapped herself.


The Evening Before... after many, many, MANY failed attempts:

Sword swung, the newly added yellow stone glimmered in the moonlight and as metal hit earth, she said her command, as instructed to make things easier to learn; "Shield me!" Needless to say; this didn't go too well. The earth came up around her quickly, but it was much too close. Tail curled in as to not get caught in the upward blast of rocks, and she let out a yelp as everything got even darker than it already had been from the eternal night here.

She hugged her body close to the blade and looked around. Completely sealed... "Alright.. Go away, or.. however I get rid of you." A hand reached up to feel the top of the tomb she'd created for herself and let out a soft whine. Nothing budged. "Come on! Go down! Shields down! Rocks begone!" nothing. "Oh... Oh come ON!! You've gotta be kidding me!" Arm moved back as far as it could in the cramped space and she let it go forward, punching at the rock wall in front of her. Dirt chipped from the side, a single pebble sized chunk fell to her feet and she just groaned. A little in pain for her hand, but mostly in annoyance.

She tested the ground with a foot gently, then a little more firmly before she knelt down and the digging began.


Today, she was hoping to not have to burrow her way out of a self-made prison, but if it came to that, at least she knew how firm the ground was here and how much effort, or how long it would take...

She grabbed the handle of her blade firmly and pulled it from her back, over her head. She looked around for a moment, and upon seeing the spiked tomb she'd made previously, brow furrowed, eyes focused, lips formed a small frown. "Alright, you wanna cooperate today?" About to find out, she swung the blade downward, vertically into the earth. "Destroy that shit!" What she wanted, of course, was a string of earthen spikes to go forward, or a tremor of some sort to destroy the 'shield' she'd made. But instead, she managed to get a pillar to come up underneath herself, flinging her forward. "Fuckballs!" Sword to the side, she landed on her knees and elbows; preventing a face-plant at least.

"Alright ya stupid gem!" tone was getting more annoyed. "Ya wanna play like that?!" sword in hand again she got to her feet and jabbed it at the small pillar; "Get the hell out!"

A blast from that had her flung backward this time, turning to avoid landing on her tail, she growled. A voice in her mind told her to calm down, relax and focus, and while it took her quite some time, she did so. Eyes closed, deep breaths. She stepped forward a few steps, up onto a larger rock, with her sword in hand, twirling the massive blade once before bringing it in front of herself in both hands, pointed toward the ground. "Destruction, or protection..." Voice now soft, emerald eyes opened, a blank look in them as they shifted toward the pillar. Blade lowered to the ground, and eyes shifted to the rocky tomb once more. "Or destruction of protection." voice hushed as she took another breath, and she rose the blade only slightly before lowering it quicker, tapping the tip to earth's surface. A small tremor formed from beneath her and she swung the blade out of the ground toward the stone, reducing it to an explosion of earth and rock.

The calmness left her and eyes widened. It was then, that she gave her panicked command; [color=coral]"Shield!" and again, she was in a rocky covering. All the way around her... a little bigger space inside, this time. "Alright... Lower... Go away.... Shields down! ... UGH!!" she knelt down then, to start burrowing her way out of the trap she'd made a second time, but this time, hands met with the solid stone she'd chosen as her perch to cast from. "You've... got... to... be... kidding... me..."

She sat down then, as hand met the side of her 'shield'. Sigh escaped from her and roughly, she scratched and rubbed away dirt. Slowly but surely... She dug.

It had been years since Vesta felt no pain in her knee. She had grown accustomed to the regular, dull throbbing interlaced with the occasional hot, sharp spikes of blistering agony when she overexerted herself. She was so accustomed to the pain that, as she walked, she imagined that her leg was hurting even worse; yet the illusion wore off as the next day came. However, although she was no longer handicapped, she still felt that she was a shadow of her former self. She had adjusted how she had fought over the years to accommodate her injury—shredded the plate armor, focused on archery, took a more defensive stance. She'd have to change again, fight like how she used to fight; if only Lady Renata had made her nineteen again.

No, she'd have to fight even better than that.

Of course, first she’d have to get used to fighting in her full form. That was why she had taken a trip outside of the manor that morning, although with the eternal night that swamped the land it was really hard to tell if it was actually morning. Vesta had found a little nook of her own; a tiny garden alcove between two rooms that jutted out of the manor. It was far from the entrance, and hopefully far from any interruptions from the more chipper bunch of the crew that’d want to know why she was awkwardly shuffling her feet while waving her sheathed sword back and forth like a child fencing with their shadow. She had been practicing for quite a while now; already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead, making her hair stick to it like spiderwebs as she took measured steps and careful strokes throughout the alcove.

A crunch of leaves, off-beat to her own steps, from behind sent an alert throughout her entire body. In one swift, practiced motion, she drew her sword as she spun to face the intruder, the blade held level and firm in her hand. The sword dipped slightly as she recognized the face of the heavy-footed man through her squinted eyes and knitted brow.

“I had figured we’d continue avoiding one another,” said Vesta.

Despite the fact that he was not wearing any armor that day, the Direwolf was making no attempt to hide his presence. Dressed in a simple but fine dark material for both his shirt and his pants, he held a lit cigarette in his hand, and one that he was taking a slow drag from even as she spun towards him with her blade at the ready. His expression, despite the sudden battle-ready movement, was one of pure calm, and slowly his eyebrow rose slightly as she not only lowered he blade some, but spoke as well.

"The only one who has been avoiding anyone is you, Ms. Debove." He spoke after exhaling, smoke trailing forwards and upwards in a cold as he held his cigarette out to the side, tapping it lightly to cause small crumbles of ash to float towards the ground, their glow rapidly dying even before they touched the grass. Though he wasn't wearing his armor, he still had his blade at his side; it wasn't the one he had arrived at Lady Renata's with though, however. Instead, this blade was in a black sheath, with a red jewel set into the pommel.

"You seem to have gotten quite good at it, after all. Seems to be that whenever anyone happens to find you, it's simply a matter of bad luck." Though the Direwolf had clearly noted the new state of her knee given the glance he gave towards it, he made no comment about it, choosing instead to inhale yet more smoke into his lungs.

On whose part? thought Vesta, sliding her blade back into her sheath and tucking it into her belt. She still felt uneasy around the man, the suspicion that he blamed her for their King's death always lingering on the edge of her mind whenever she saw him. They hadn't talked since before she had fled Barcea to avoid any repercussions for failing in her duties—and she had been fine with that. Now, however, seeing Alsius before her, she could no longer bring herself to avoid what was to come.

"I suppose you must think I'm a coward," she said, folding her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. Her eyes lingered for a second on the Direwolf's weapon before turning back to face him. "Can't say that I blame you."

The Direwolf made a deep sort of noise, some sort of a cross between a snort and a chuckle. He gave a slight shake of his head, but he didn't verbally respond until after he had slowly exhaled his smoke once again, holding the cigarette out to the side once more. "You did what you had to in order to survive. The officials of the old guard were on a witch hunt; there was no reason behind what they did, save that they wanted someone to pay for the power they knew they were going to lose as soon as Queen Serio took the crown. So no, I don't believe you're a coward. Clearly you've made your mistakes, but that doesn't make you a coward. Just a fool at some point." With that, he once more returned to his cigarette, still choosing to look towards the nearby gardens rather than at her.

"At some point," she echoed with a raised eyebrow. For a moment, it actually seemed that the Direwolf was taking her side, absolving her even. Had she misread him? She could even accept the fool comment. She had been a fool, she was still a fool, and she believed she would always be a fool. People who were wise did not turn to a life of constant struggle and fighting; they got married, had kids, and moved to Jasi. Wisdom, for what it's worth, seemed boring. She looked back at Alsius, noting how he seemed to be distracted by other things than their conversation.

"Is there something wrong?"

For a moment the man was silent, focused on his cigarette rather than her. When he finally replied the stick was not much more than the butt, and the way he flicked it away seemed to underline his disgust in what he had to say:

"Breaking bread with the Phantasm had begun to grind harder on my nerves."

"Harder than rubbing elbows with Demons and Divineborn?" she asked, flicking her hair out of her face. "I have no love for the Gifted, either, but I fear that we will need him in the fight to come. Plus, Cyril wants us to be one, big, happy family." She shrugged. "Face it, long gone are the days where a strong sword arm and a little bit of luck was all you needed to win a fight. Maybe those days never even existed."

She couldn't believe that she was, in a way, defending the Wanderer. "Are you planning on doing something about it?"

"In that, we will simply have to disagree. My faith in the power of my blade has not diminished in the slightest. I continue to serve my country to the fullest through it, cutting down those who would bring it harm." The hand of the Direwolf went down then, reaching into his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes, and briefly he began to shake one loose before stopping halfway, leaving the one extended out past the others. "It is because of that reason I do not plan on doing anything about it. The day will come that the Phantasm and I will resolve our quarrel one way or another; it will not be today, however."

"Hmm," she said, placing her hands behind her head and one leg against the wall; the novelty of her new knee had still not worn off. "In my experience, most people's never stop saying not today. And you must've been spending too much time with that damn paladin with all of that faith-in-my-blade nonsense. A lot of people believe in their own strength. Hell, I'd say between the two of us we've probably cut down a few dozen of those idiots." She sighed, dropping her arms. "It's easy to be confident; it's better to be cautious. You may not think it's changed a thing, but you have gotten older. We both have."

She flashed one of her rare, jagged smiles. "What I'm trying to say is, don't be a dumbass."

Very slightly the Direwolf gave another snort. It was rare for the man to give any sign of amusement, and yet in that conversation he had already done something similar twice. "I never am. The same, however, I will say to you." With that he finally pulled out the cigarette completely, putting away the box to pull out a match instead, striking it up to once more begin trailing smoke gently into the air. "No more even pretending that you're considering fleeing once again. You owe the Serios your life; pay them back properly by laying it down for them, otherwise I will bring it to them." With that he turned, beginning to walk away. "Welcome back, Ms. Debove."

"Hmph," she snorted, wondering if she could take Direwolf in a fight. He was good, but they never had dueled before. It was a possibility that she was quicker, but not a certainty, and she was tired of always being a hypocrite.

"Take care of yourself, Direwolf. Divines know that nobody else would."

Another snort was all she received in reply.

"Way hay, and up she rises! Way hay, hyup, she rises! Way hay, up she rises, early in the morrrning!" Dalious sang loudly throughout the halls. He was still quite lost even after already roaming the manor the day before. The magic throughout everything made his buzz skyrocket even more so. He was in full black and red armor, though his weapons were sheathed and holstered and his two hands both held a flask of rum to themselves, courtesy of the Lady's cellar. "What would you do with a drunken sailor, what would ye do with a drunken sailor, oh what would you do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning?" he continued to sing, stumbling by and about and nearly walking into important looking things and statues. "Put 'em in the brig until he's sober, put him in the brig until he's sober, fuckin' puttem' in the brig until he's sober, early in the morrrning...oooh!"

Dalious slightly paused at what he came across next. Just beside a staircase, leading both upwards and down, there was a beautiful art picture of a dark design over a pale canvas. He squinted at it a moment, while simultaneously catching his footing. It appeared at first to be a random ink blot, and could hold many other interpretations, but his came clear as day a second longer. He saw himself, though not like he would have liked. He was lying within a mound of dead people all around him, appearing to be dead himself. He shook his head and the picture seemed to change, where now he just saw random ink splotches. He lifted one of the flasks full of rum and looked at it. "...what have you done to me?"

His interrogation would have to run short, as the world around him seemed to spin a bit further, his drunken level being as high as it was. It was somewhat of a tradition for him to get obliterated drunk before a battle, and he was not one to mess around with traditions. So long as his training felt on point, he felt his mind deserved a break. He stumbled hard over to the start of the staircase, catching a hard shoulder into the wall. After flinching a bit, he looked up and down, undecided on which way to go. He blew his long uncombed hair out of his face and decided on going down.

"The mother of bad ideas," he said to himself, speaking of the stairs themselves. Though he was confident in his drunken ability to handle the task at hand, at least he had hoped so anyway. He slowly eased down, holstering his booze in the process. Step by step he went, as the lighting seemed to get darker around him and the steps seemed to get smaller and smaller. "Fookin' hell, shoulda stayed in bed." His accent broke into a hiccup, which startled even himself.

He eventually made it to the next hallway, a floor below. Walking became easier and once again, he appeared to be alone. While the others in the group were off doing Lady of Demons knows what, he simply propped himself against the wall and started loading the last of his dragongrass into his pipe. Last time he was this faded, a woman beat him at knife throwing, so he kept a mental note to not go completely overboard.

Once he had finished loading the pipe carved of a dragon, a poor looking one at that as he was not the finest artist at carving wood, he began smoking it, filling the halls with a pleasant smell. "Ah, finest pipe weed in Barcea," he said, continuing to walk and smoke, simply relaxing and enjoying the oddities of the mansion.

After exploring the rooms, he found himself in the library. A massive room filled with shelves of books and beautiful chandeliers beaming off light from the ceiling. Putting his pipe away in a small pouch at his waist, he scanned a few books until he quickly settled on one: Bestiary of the Open Seas. He then found a comfortable seat to fall into and started reading, losing himself in the stories within. For a few moments, then he passed out face first into onto the book.

Though their time within this odd place was far from their usual routine, it was Alice who found solace in the mansion...that place, oddly enough, was within the kitchens.

Should one enter into that space or find themselves led there they’d see an odd sight. The token pistol-whipping sniper traveling with the Sentinels would be shed of her gear and instead with her hair piled in a messy bun atop her head and a simple black apron covering her clothing. That apron would have splatters of flour here and there and even a bit of it somehow dusting her hairs. The counter of the center island having been organized in a semi chaotic manner with so items used and others not so much. Presently the woman would have her back to the door and softly singing-content as can be while fiddling with the stove.

With the size and malleable nature of the mansion, it would have been impossible for any sort of coincidental passing to happen. So, the fact that Cyril was the one who happened upon the kitchens as he attempted to find his way out was due to no chance, but in that moment he didn’t think about that. Instead, as he heard her moving about and even her gentle song he blinked in surprise, before he turned to quietly enter the kitchen.

“Alice?”

The singing promptly ended as Alice jumped in shock, her body reacting instinctually for the closest item- a frying pan. She turned ready to defend but paused realizing it was Cyril. Her brain needed a moment to re-register her surroundings and her own actions, her cheeks pinkening as she lowered the skillet with an awkward smile, ”Hello Blue~.”

He smiled, polite as ever as he did so. He remained where he was, just inside the door, moving to lean slightly against the counter. ”Doing some cooking outside of the campfire for once? What are you making?”

The ever so extroverted Alice found herself breaking gaze first with her face heating up again. She a smile as she half turned back to the stove, giving half her attention to the thing and to Cyril, ”I was just making some stuffed chicken and pepper with some vegetables the Lady had in the cupboard.” She turned back to Cyril, pushing past her embarrassment to ask, ”Would you like some? It’ll taste a bit better than what I usually make on travels.”

He blinked, and then smiled a little more, nodding slightly. ”You know, I think I can spend some time to do that. Would be happy to, in fact.”

Alice turned her back to Cyril now, pulling out another plate and pattering around the kitchen as though she’d been there for weeks. ”Oh! No no it’s okay! I actually really like cooking...it helps me decompress and still be productive.” Alice’s body was moving around the island to deposit his utensils and water before rounding back around to finish off the peppers before covering them and placing them next to the slow cooking chicken. ’It’s going to take a few for the peppers to cooking but since they cook faster than chicken, and that was already going, they should be done in about fifteen maybe twenty minutes?” She may not have been speaking directly to Cyril and more voicing her own thoughts but it was a statement none the less.

Turning back to Cyril she smiled brightly, ”So.” She pulled a stool across the way from the Prince. ”How has your time in here been?”

The Prince remained standing, something he didn’t seem to mind considering how he just leaned against the counter. He gave a slight shrug, though he kept smiling. ”It’s been going well enough, I suppose… It’s been hard being patient, waiting for Kori to arrive… But there isn’t much I can do, right now. Hopefully there will be news soon.”

Alice tilted her head curiously, ”What’s it like growing up with siblings?’

Briefly his brow furrowed, surprised by the question, but after a moment he straightened a little as he answered. ”It was enjoyable, at least for me. I’m fortunate enough to have really good people to call my sisters. It definitely could have been a lot worse.”

Alice blinked as she realized her blunt questioning, ”Sorry, Highness. It felt as though I grew up an only child and I was curious what it was like to grow up with people so close to you all the time. Then again growing up in a castle must be pretty intense, right? Did you have to learn about politics and maths and all that?” She was oddly curious about his upbringing, not out of ulterior motive but out of pure unadulterated curiosity-and it showed in her body language as she rested on cheek on her hand and an elbow on the counter.

He nodded slightly. He was at ease with the questions, clearly not bothered in the slightest. ”Yes, more than a decent amount of that. And then there was riding, swordplay, strategy, and the other arts of war. It never seemed to really end sometimes, and got quite overwhelming at others.”

She seemed almost disheartened at his response, ”That’s….I’m sorry, Cyril.” She took a moment to observe the man again before continuing her thought with her brows furrowed, ”That must have been very frustrating. I can’t say I know what you mean, because I don’t know, but I do know that being overwhelmed with your situation at a young age isn’t good for you...but you seem to have turned out just fine.” Trying to end her statement on a good note.

He smiled a little more even as he gave another nod. ”Yes, I would like to think so. I have a lot to thank my mother for when it comes to that, along with Kori and Ayano as well. Don’t be too worried about me; I may have had my difficulties, but it was nothing compared to what even the normal person goes through, I believe. I know I’ve been fortunate.”

Alice’s mind flashed back for a moment to a small woman with tan skin, piercing green eyes and long arrow straight hair that was kept loosely plated. She wore simple dresses and cooked foods that were full of warmth-it brought a smile to her eyes, ”You mother sounds like an amazing woman to have brought three amazing children into this world but don’t you tell me not to worry. One hardship may be simple to one person but it may be the world to another…” Alice backtracked for a moment as she realized she was reprimanding royalty of a country. ”Ahem, I simply mean that no hardship means less than another. Royalty or not.”

He gave a very gentle shrug then. ”I suppose, but I don’t consider my own greater than that of any other.”

Alice couldn’t help but give a good natured laugh, ”Spoken like a true Prince!” She gave another smile before jumping, ”The food!” Though there were no clocks to be seen Alice’s senses told her to check the food. And in good fortune it was ready.

Within a few moments a plate of breaded chicken stuffed with cheese and seasoning along with the two halves of a bell pepper stuffed with other veggies and seasonings would be placed in front of Cyril and another in front of Alice. ”I almost let it all burn-that would have been mortifying!” Alice lightly mused to herself as another questions escaped her lips, ”Cyril, what’s Barcea really like?”

His eyebrows went up then in surprise, as he looked to her. The food smelled delicious and he was on the cusp of complimenting her for it and digging in, but her sudden question brought him to a halt. ”What do you mean by that?”

”Well, what’s it like? I’ve only been there for a short time and I haven’t really had time to explore…” Her words began fading away as she looked down at her food slightly embarrassed, ”I just was wanting to know your thoughts and mentions of Barcea is all...it’s a very ideal place is all.”

He didn’t begin eating, too busy thinking about answering her. ”... That’s simply because we’ve tried very hard in the recent years to make it such a way. It wasn’t too long before that we were a nation of war as well, constantly battling H’kela… We’ve tried moving on from those ways, but…” Slowly, he frowned. ”It seems that didn’t matter, all that much.”

Alice took a small bite out of her pepper as Cyril spoke, chewing slowly before swallowing and giving a response, ”I wouldn’t say that. Not by a long shot. When I first entered into Barcea it was clear to see that the people were happy. Very happy. When I say it’s an ideal place I mean that it is warm and there is so much lively energy there. Yes, no place is perfect, but that’s what makes a place a home right? I think that peacetime and progression were both needed and wanted. It just takes time… I think.”

”Time we don’t have anymore.” Cyril said, more than just a little bit bitter. ”Now, we’re being pulled back into the mistakes that the generations before us made, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

”We can change it.” The curiosity and the calm air was pushed away for the normal Alice who didn’t take no for an answer-she was the one speaking. ”Mistakes have been made in the past, yeah it happens, but you know those mistakes and you’re smart enough that you, and everyone around you that looks up to you, can make the changes needed to get to peace and to happiness.”

”And yet there will still be more blood.”

”Take it from someone who has seen Gods disappear and has never had something to call their own for more than a few months. In order to make change blood must be shed. I know it’s ideal to think the world can be saved through talks and meetings but actions have always spoken louder than words.”

He shook his head slightly. ”While that may be true, I take no pleasure in it, and do not look forward to it.”

”That’s what you’ve got me for Blue. To shoot a few people, kick down some doors and take a few dozen names, and to cook a mean meal from time to time.”

”Hopefully, soon enough, we won’t have to worry about the violence.” He gave her another smile, and finally brought up some of the chicken to eat; when he took the bite, his eyes lit up slightly, him quickly chewing and swallowing. ”Alice, this is fantastic.”

Alice remained frozen for a moment as Cyril gave praise to her cooking, promptly leading to her neck and face to heat up and her gaze to drop to the food she was poking it. ”I-I’m glad you’re enjoying it….told you it was going to be better than campfire food.”

”You weren’t kidding.” His smile grew slightly. ”You should do it more often.”

”If I had a kitchen I would. Open fire leaves for a nice smoky taste but it leaves me a bit limited….I’ll have to remember to cook for everyone when we are back here or at the castle-maybe? If that’s alright?” She was struggling to calm down. Sure she cooked all the time with Stark since that poor girl didn’t know how to keep anything from burning and she’d taken up cooking the majority of food for when the Sentinel’s had been traveling but Cyril’s comment just added a bit of extra pleasantry for her.

”I don’t think anyone would be bothered by that; I know I wouldn’t be complaining.” He chuckled slightly, and then began to quickly eat.

”Only if you ask nice.” She teased as she too began eating the food she’d cooked. Of course she wasn’t expecting an answer from him and was more than content with the quiet sounds of eating-a sign of a good meal.

He laughed slightly, nodding. ”I’ll do my best.”

_{(guest stars: Ian and Sir Mauls)}

"How many times do I have to tell you, Mr. Blackwood, if you wish to observe the ritual, then I must have absolute silence. No singing, no humming, no strumming that instrument of yours, none of it. If I make just one mistake, the results could be catastrophic."

In the morning of the group's second day at the Renata Mansion, Drosil was busy preparing for something within the gardens that Karin had mentioned the previous day. However, he had a rather bothersome intruder by the name of Ian Blackwood, who seemed happy to see another Jasian and was trying to lift the Summoner's spirits with a song or two, despite the individuals insistence that he was completely fine and would be much better if Ian were to leave the area.

Unfortunately for Drosil, the bard was a persistent sort and didn't seem likely to leave anytime soon. Wearing what could possibly be considered his casual attire, it was a simple get-up of brown leather breeches and a what was once a white tunic, though it had been splattered with so many different colored dyes that it was hard to think of it as being such anymore. Not to mention that the man smelled as if he had bathed in a pool of spices, the strong, if pleasant, scent making Drosil's head dizzy with its intensity.

"Come now, what endeavor can't be made better and more entertaining with the inclusion of musical accompaniment?"

"Anything that requires silence and focus, for one. Now I must repeat that you either be quiet, or leave. Your presence is grating on my nerves, and I'd rather not be performing this summoning while annoyed."

"Why, I have just the song for irritation, my Jasian frie-"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY THIS BEFORE YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!?!?! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MUSIC RIGHT NOW!"

"That's just because you haven't gotten the chance to truly experience it, so if you'd just let me play something for you-"

Drosil tuned out Ian as he suddenly brought up his staff, pointing the spherical tip right in the man's face. The staff's crystalline look was a bit less . . . vibrant then it usually was, something that had given Drosil some pause when he awoke this morning, but he passed it off as him just being a bit under the weather after his . . . . 'operation' from the other day. Moving on from that, however, Drosil summoned a gout of spider silk webbing to wrap around the bard's mouth, keeping him from speaking in anything but mumbled screams as he tripped over his own two feet in his attempts to get it off. Drosil gave a sigh of relief as he turned to get back to work, only to feel something grab on to his leg as he attempted to walk forward, causing him to fall flat on his face as his body tumbled over. Getting up on all fours, Drosil turned to glare at Ian, who only gave a small wave in return, the smirk that was assuredly on his face hidden beneath the spider webbing around his mouth.

This man is infuriating to such a degree, I'm surprised that Lady Renata tolerates his presence. If only someone else could come along to take his attention off of me, if only for a few minutes. Merciful Divines, please send somebody, anybody over to help get this oaf of a bard away from me.

Stark had been wandering since the early hours simply out of habit from her days as a guard in Jasi. Through the halls of the Renate house she walked, fingers toying with the silvery stones seemingly forever attached to her wrists, until she came upon a very particular scene. One of the bard, Ian Blackwood, with his face covered in white and Mister Maeneld on all fours looking defeated.

At first Stark simply stood there with a dead eye'd look before her words got the better of her, "As much as I could care less about the hanky panky you indulge yourselves in, do you honestly think it is appropriate to do so outside within the Renate grounds?" A grey brow rose as her odd eyes flitted back and forth between the two. There was a slight up turn of her lips as she realized that her previous words didn't hold any truth; instead moving forward and helping to pull Drosil to his feet before giving Ian a curious look at the webbing on his features.

She turned her head to Drosil, "Too much singing?"

"Among other things, and the only thing I'm indulging myself in is a rather delicate summoning ritual. Given how the lady of demons has told us of stronger foes in our future, I'd rather have stronger beasts to summon and have by my side. Drosil slowly rose to his feet, wiping the dirt from his cloak as he went back to looking over the summoning circles that had been laid across the grounds, the arcane writing pulsing with power, seemingly strengthened by the ambient energy that was present within the pocket dimension the mansion currently resided. As he did so, Ian would give Stark a look as she entered, as if to say 'Me? and him? Really?'. THis look turned to one of mock shock as she suggested that he was singing too much, as if she had just spoken the gravest of blasphemies. "Oh, speaking of strong beasts, be on the look out for Sir Mauls would you? He was getting hungry so I sent him back to the mansion to get himself something to eat, but if he doesn't find something . . . well, just keep an eye out and tell me as soon as you hear a really low clicking sound. Everything should be fine, but you know, never hurts to be careful."

Now that Ian was currently busy trying to remove the webbing from his face(which he realized rather worryingly seemed to be growing down his neck like the tendrils of some hungering beast), Drosil was able to continue with checking that everything was in place, having only to edit a few mistakes here and there. Overall, it was solid and would suit his purposes rather nicely. Turning back to address the two, where he'd likely find Ian with his hands stuck to his face in a rather awkward and uncomfortable position as the webbing had trapped his grasping hands against his face. Needless to say, Ian was panicking a little, trying with all of his might to get the webbing off of him, but never seeming to break a single silken strand.

Anyway, Miss . . . Stark, yes? You're skilled in water magics, am I right? Tell me, could you summon a large amount of it at a moments notice, or only shape and manipulate it? Also, do you have any ability to manipulate Ice and/or cold as well?

Though Stark did visibly flinch at the mention of beasts she kept her mouth shut, instead her hands toying with the bracelets again. Rather, gave a small smirk towards Ian with a raised brow and a slight shrug, "Don't make that face. With the rate those threads are spreading your face is going to get stuck like that." She held back a giggle before taking a few steps forward with keen interest. Without missing a beat while slowly circling the runes, "Sir Mauls wouldn't eat me. " Simple and confident.

She'd circled back towards where Ian was, still eyeing the runes and trying to memorize as much as she was able to, "Just Stark is fine. I'm far from a lady." She coughed a moment when asked about her powers, " It is easiest for me to use water that is present but I am able to summon it from my own spell circles. As for manipulating it I tend to be creative in my uses of water. I can get my water just to barely above freezing, I haven't masters manipulating ice yet." The Mage squared her shoulders, looking Drosil dead on. "What is it that you're trying to summon?" Another pause, "Also shouldn't you let him out? Doesn't he need to, you know, breathe?"

"No need to worry about him, the webbing will only spread downward and I'm . . . pretty sure I left his nose uncovered, so he'll be fine." Drosil said as he suddenly started to cast a spell towards a patch of earth a little ways away from his summoning circle, carving another such circle, though this one was much simpler to create. As he went about this, he'd answer Stark's former question, placing a foot up to stop the hobbled charge of Ian, who had seemed to have enough of being treated as a non-issue just because he couldn't speak. "As for what I'm trying to summon, that would be a Northern Phoenix, a species you likely haven't heard off do to the fact that most doubt they even exist. Said to live in the highest mountains of Gurata, they're the embodiment of fire and cold, a mutation that was created out of necessity to survive in the rugged winter climate after being driven their by some unknown force. While the migration of a sizable number of the Phoenix population is a well-known event, many believe that the beasts perished due to the cold and lack of food sources to fuel their ability to resurrect themselves. I, however, think a beast as powerful in the magical arts as a phoenix would certainly be able to adapt to the new climate." Try as the bard might, the summoner was stronger than he looked and was able to easily keep him at bay while he explained the nature of his endeavor. Soon, he had finished the secondary circle, and quickly spoke a few arcane words over it in order to activate the sigils it held. A flash of light would burst from the circle, the center of the circle glowing brightly for a few lingering moments before it died down, revealing a still pool of water being held within the confines of the circle.

"There we go, that should suffice if worst comes to worse, though you'll need to offer up a drop or two of blood in order to draw from it . . . oh, and don't worry if you see something in the water, there is a barrier that'll keep anything living from passing through the portal from that side. Now, that also goes for anyone on this side who falls in so~ . . . don't. I don't quite know what's in those waters, but I do know you won't want to meet it, cause if the pressure doesn't kill you, something else will. Most likely in a way that's very painful and very, very bloody. . . the deep ocean is a scary, scary place." As Drosil said this, Ian seemed to realize that he was uncomfortably close to the edge, and began to wriggle and writhe in an attempt to get away from it. Before the bard could accidentally get himself killed, Drosil grabbed the webbing at his neck and was quick to drag him away, as he was basically cocooned at this point. "Now, if I do end up summoning the beast, I'll attempt to bind it to me so I don't have to worry about it trying to kill me. Nothing should go wrong, but if things do, then I'll need you to douse it with that water. Theoretically, the cold that they'll expel will freeze the water, trapping them within it long enough for me to complete the ceremony or, if things are really bad, banish it back to where it came from. Simple, right?"

Stark simply eyed Ian a moment longer, giving a face of sympathy before turning her attention fully to Drosil and his explanation of the beast he wanted to summon. The word 'phoenix' made her very uncomfortable due to her particular fear but that fear was pushed down by intense curiosity the more he spoke about the non flaming beast. "So you're telling me that the legendary fire bird is....an ice bird?" She couldn't help but grin at that prospect and potentially seeing such an intensely rare creature with her own eyes. That curiosity and clear interest to know more was only stoked further as Drosil brought about summoning that pool of water.

The mage took a few steps closer, probably closer than she should have, before looking into that darkness. What with her nonhuman senses it only took a few moments before her eyes caught sight of something swimming in the water. Her eyes focused in on the dark object before she took a step back hissing at the pool. It only took her a moment to realize her lapse before she straightened her back and un-furled her hands with an embarrassed blush on her features. "Ahem." Stark fixed her shirt before falling back into her obedient servant position she was so used to be in. "You're going to summon a giant frozen bird and if it starts squaking put it on ice-got it." She turned to Drosil with a bit of curiosity as another question came to mind, "What happens if it gets lose? What do we do after that?"

"Well, a subspecies of it is, yes. Normal Phoenix are very much intuned with the element of fire-"

Drosil's explanation was cut short by Stark as she proceeded to hiss at the pool, apparently having seen something in the depths. That brought up a sizable number of questions in his mind, but he focused himself on the task at hand. He could figure out the cause of the hissing at a later date.

Well that was an . . . interesting reaction.

Focusing back on the ritual at hand, he began to focus his magical energies into the circle, causing it to pulsate ever so slightly, the color of the circle running the gauntlet of colors, hues, and shades, the many circles within the summoning sigil beginning to turn clock-wise and counter-clockwise, as if try to adjust itself. While this was happening, Drosil would take out an odd implement and clutch it tightly in hand. All the Stark would be able to see of it was a sliver of dull black metal before he brought it up to his chest, his body keeping it hcidden from sight. While this was happening, he was trying to think on a way to answer Stark's question in a way that wouldn't cause any undue alarm.

"You and Ian have little to worry about, as the Phoenix is not a violent creature by nature, so it should be content with taking vengeance on me and me alone if it does manage to get out. As for what we do, I guess pray that the i merely loose an appendage of mine, rather than get turned into a frozen statue. That being said, i do suggest you take Ian and run away if things do turn sour. Summoning is a type of magic that has a way of culling those who are unworthy in a rather effective, if normally gruesome manner. All it takes is one wrong rune, and you find yourself at the mercy of whatever great beast or being you tried to bring into our world."

As Drosil spoke, the summoning circle's pulsations would begin to quicken, the glow growing brighter and brighter as the inner circles ceased their turning, seeming to have locked onto their prey. Extending one hand outward in a claw-like gesture, Drosil spoke in a deep droning voice the incantation to bring the creature to the fore, slowly bringing his hand back and clenching it into a fist as he did so. He'd repeat this action, each time causing a ripple to pulse through the air, carrying with it brisk mountain air and an intense feeling of cold. Sweat would quickly form on his brow from the exertion of trying to bring his target through, his previous motion seeming to take a rather large amount of effort as he tried to draw it back, only to have his hand go fly forward a little, nearly unbalancing him as his prey sought to escape. This would continue for sometime, almost as if Drosil was fishing, but finally, the moment of truth would come.

With a seemingly herculean amount of effort, Drosil would pull back his arm one final time, and with it would come a resounding crack and boom that would echo throughout the area, like a peal of thunder. The others would also be able to see the large flash of light that accompanied the action, as well as a rush of freezing cold air rush through the garden, carrying with it a rather sizeable amount of snow as well. For now, it seemed that Lady Renata's abode would be a bit of a winter wonderland as flurries of ice crystals blew their way across the Mansion and the area surrounding it, giving everything a coat of white to balance out the redness of everything. Shadar would certainly approve, though really he just wanted any color besides red to be apparent in this place.

At the epicenter of the event, the entire garden was coated with a much thicker coating of snow, the portal that had brought it already dispersing into nothingness, leaving only the binding circles left, the only thing separating the creature inside the circle from them. The creature, however, was not what many had likely been expecting. It wasn't that big, for one, only marginally bigger than a Peregine Falcon, and while it certainly had a rather regal appearance to it, with snow-white feathers the slowly transformed into the most beautiful shade of Deep blue he'd ever seen, it also looked a bit . . . fat and owlish. While clearly a raptor, it did have feet and a thickness of feathers more akin to Owls. The one thing, however, the set it apart from everything else was the intense glare it was focusing on Drosil. It's eyes, which were a solid ice blue in color with two black pits in the center, where full with so much intelligence and clarity that it was clear to see that this was no ordinary creature. Still, the overall effect was rather underwhelming at first.

Then it opened it's beak.

With a sharp piercing cry akin to that of an Eagle, it summoned forth a ball of blue and white flames nearly twice it's size before launching it at the young mage. While Stark would likely be about to summon up he water to take the creature out, she would be (hopefully)stopped by a single hand motion from Drosil, pleading her to wait. The ball of fire would smash against an invisible barrier spreading around the beast in a circle before dissipating into nothingness, leaving behind a thin sculpture of ice that was formed from the flames rapidly condensing the moisture in the air. The Phoenix was quick to take to the air, coming down to alight upon the higher most spires of it's creation, looking down at all of those present as if to say 'What do you want.'

Ian, now completely covered, wriggled around a bit as he tried to get the snow off of him, as well as trying to inch away from the scene, not wanting to get caught up in this madness while he was incapable of defending himself from terrifying shit like this. Drosil, on the other hand, simply had one thing to say.

"Well then . . . someone's rather moody, aren't they.

Stark tried to ignore Drosil's curious gaze at her reaction to the water, simply taking Drosil's words and instructions in stride, "Well let us hope that you're as skilled as we all assume you are." Perhaps a bit of sarcasm perhaps a bit a teasing-she wouldn't tell. It didn't matter as he began to do his work. She prepared herself as her own magic flared to life and her own water came forth to her beck and whim. She was poised to strike with the runes pulsing and the magic running thick in the air Stark had been ready for something massive and glorious and yet she got, "It's so little."

Then the damnm thing opened its mouth and her own reaction kicked in as her hand shot out stretched in front of her with a torrent of water following after towards the screeching bird. However the swift movement of the Drosil's hand shooting up to stop her brought her open hand snapping closed into an extended fist and her water stopping dead in it's tracks. Her body was tense and ready to spring into action as her eyes remained trained on the bird.

The cold didn't seem to affect her as her body relaxed with her chin trained upwards towards the creature. Without missing a beat, "Anyone up for trying some frozen chicken?"

"You've just born witness to the confirmation the existence that had been eluding scholars and adventurers for years, a creature I'd been studying in theory for a few years now, and that's how you decide to introduce yourself to it?" Drosil incredulous tone and somewhat astonished face was matched only by the cold glare of the Phoenix, who didn't seem to appreciate the comment, having begun to stare down Stark with a much greater intensity. Upon noticing this, Drosil could only groan in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as he began fingering the object he was currently holding. Now, Stark would be able to see that it was a small rod of dark metal, tipped with a blood red orb that seemed to pulse with ever so subtly under the crimson light of the similarly colored moon that hung overhead. "And, as I suspected, it can understand you. That's great, it's not like Phoenixes are one of the most prideful magical beasts to exist upon this planet. Ugh, just. . . just keep at the ready. This is where things get tricky."

Turning towards the Phoenix, Drosil raised the rod out before him, his eyes suddenly taking on a purple-ish gleam to them as a violet flame suddenly sprung to life around the crimson orb, spreading quickly around his form as he begun a low chant. While it was unlikely that Stark would be able to understand the language of the chant, as it seemed to be an amalgamation of the Arcane language of magic and something old and wreathed in darkness, she'd feel a compulsion beset her. While not overpowering(it actually started out rather weak), it was a persistent against the edges of her mind, yet at the same time, barely noticeable. A constant thrumming sound that seemed to worms it's way into her mind, trying to find some purchase there in order to force her to submit to it's will, slowly growing stronger and stronger the more she listen to the melody, to make her follow a single order.

<sub>obey . . .

Obey . . . .</sub>

OBEY! ! ! ! !

As much as she probably disliked this feeling, it was much, much worse for the Phoenix, who was currently throwing a veritable fit inside of the summoning circle. The moment the violet flames had appeared, the creature had begun letting out a series of high-pitch screeches, letting loose a cascade of Ice-blue flames within the area in it's attempts to break free of it's restraints, but within the veil of flames, one could see the violet haze the was slowly coiling around the creatures head as the magic sought to take hold of it's mind. However, it seemed that the flames were stronger than Drosil had expected, for they were able to break the barrier within a minute, though this could also be attested to the desperation that the phoenix put into it's attempts as well. Either way, the Icenfire would shoot upwards and outwards, looking like a blossoming flower of flame to any onlookers from afar, before it began to converge above the Phoenix as it seemed to be preparing a large and rather powerful spell to launch at Drosil, who was too lost in his current trance to do anything to defend himself.

Stark ignored Drosil's comment, staring back at the beast with an intense curiosity and yet with a gaze of respect. If what Drosil was saying was true then this bird was far more powerful than it looked. She would keep her slitted gaze upon the bird as she paced back and forth in the room; only looking away from the beast until the very last moment as she gazed upon Drosil instead. Something about the orb made her stomach churn but she pushed it aside, "Then the creature will know I simply made an observation. There is nothing particularly wrong with being small, I should know." She offhandedly gestured to her petite stature with a smirk at the bird.

A smirk that would promptly fall off her face as Drosil began his chanting. The change in her stature was not immediate but the initial change sent a massive chill up her spine and as less than pleasant sensation to fill her as mind. Stark was having difficulty focusing her gaze on something as the sensation grew stronger, trying to keep it together as her instincts told her of the growing magic in the air. Struggle as she might to keep her senses her body acted upon its own. The purple flames that sprang to life would have been interesting to her if her mind wasn't fighting the one thing that she was tired of doing-obeying.

Three things happened. First would be that the meaty part of Stark's hand would be cut by a soon disregarded blade-allowing that tingling sensation of her body shifting to clash against the pressure building in her head. Second would be that in the process of this her left hand would shoot out towards the circle of water that Drosil had created for her- the water coming to her touch after the first few splattered rops touched the surface. Third would be Stark's lips pulling back in a snarl as her clawed scaled arms controlled the water that would circle around Drosil, his flames, and the bird. "Drosil! Hurry up!" She exclaimed through clenched teeth as her natural reaction was to not only push Ian as far away from the bird as possible with an extension of her own watery control but to place her body between Drosil and the bird-not touching the runes or the rod in his hand but enough to protect the mage better at a closer range as the ring of water surrounding them grew and grew-ready to strike if Drosil wasn't able to seal the bird quick enough within his flames. She'd have already frozen the bird but with the mounting pressure in her mind she couldn't help but think back on Drosil's words of freezing it at the last moment if it were to strike...of needing to listen and do as she had been asked.

Alas, Stark's cries would go unheard, for Drosil had gone into a deep trance in order to forge the bond between him and the Phoenix. By using Lilith's Domination magic to temporarily subjugate the creature's soul, he could more rapidly create the bond needed to tie them together, allowing him to call the rare beast whenever he desired without needing to search for it.

The Phoenix, however, was very much aware of it's surroundings, and what the rude woman from before was trying to do. As such, it suddenly brought forth all of the magical magical energy it could, causing it's body to shine like a blue-white Sun. This would not only blind whoever gazed upon it for a short time, but also force the water surrounding it away with the sheer magical force of it. With this power, the Phoenix would let out a mighty cry before blasting it at the summoner before it, the barrier halting it for naught but a few seconds before it gave out.

But those seconds were all Drosil needed to complete the bond, the flames quickly dispersing as he opened his eyes to see a raging inferno of Icenfire rushing towards him, much too powerful for Stark to completely stop in time to save them both. In a split second decision, he charged a large amount of magical energy into the rod he know held and used it to shove Stark to the side, knocking her out of the danger zone and into relative safety . . . but leaving him defenseless as the wave of ice-blue flames washed over him. The cold heat would spread through his body like a wave of burning ice, stealing the life force from him by the second as his flesh, bone, skin, and sinew froze and cracked into an ugly, bloody mess. As the summoner hit the ground, his arm simply broke into pieces, and all he could do was stare in silent horror, for his near frozen lungs had already failed him, no breath coming in nor out of him. The worst part of it all, as he laid on the ground, slowing suffocating to death, blood beginning to leak out in wide, sluggish droplets from the fractured mess that used to be his shoulder, was that he felt no pain. All he felt was a mix of bitter, numbing cold and somewhat comforting heat. It filled his being and ate away at him with a terrible fervor.

I'm . . . dying?

Drosil's final thought was a question aimed towards the heavens. He had only just begun his life in earnest, taking his first step towards his lifelong goal . . . how could it all be over just like that. In the hours hidden between ones final seconds of life, he ruminated on his life, and could only thing of one thing near the end. My life, short as it was. . . is one I'm proud to have lived, even with the many mistakes I've made. Maybe now, with me out of the way, Shadar can start living his own life. He deserves that, after all this time following behind me. . . *sigh* and to my Divine Mother or Father, whatever the Masked maybe, please do this . . . one thing, if nothing else, for your child. . . Don't let Shadar die because of me.

And with that final wish, Drosil's body would go still, his struggling breaths slowing to a halt as his body's lifeforce drained away. For the second time in his life, Drosil Maeneld was dead.

---

Ian, thanks to Stark, was safe from all the ruckus and mayhem. Even better, the water used to push him out of harm's way had also weakened the webbing enough for the bard to break out of the cocoon with some effort. After freeing himself of his silken restraints, Ian wouldbear witness to the Drosil's final moments of life, and what a way to go it was. The arm breaking bit seemed like it must of hurt quite a bit, but the kid didn't even let out a moan or a groan. Walking over, Ian could see that the Icebird (which was strangely absent from the scene, he noted) had caused a lot of his flesh to break up, revealing all of the messiness that was best left inside of the human body. Seeing it all, Ian could only offer a soft clicking of his teeth.

"Man, I've heard about giving a guy the cold shoulder, but this is overboard. Truly a sad, gruesome, and . . . woefully predictable end for one such as he. I shall be sure to let him live on again in my songs." The minstrel would offer a low bow, before turning to stark, seeming very unperturbed by this series of events. "Come now Stark, I need to get a shovel so we can give the poor guy a proper burial . . . do they bury people in Jasi again, I've been away for so long I can hardly recall any of the customs nowadays."

As Ian spoke, a soft, mournful clicking sound could be heard from behind him. Turning around, Ian saw that the mage's pet monster bug, Sir Mauls, had returned and was currently probing Drosil's body with it's antennae, the movements becoming more and more frantic as the creature began to realize the truth about the situation. To those who k ew the intelligence Air Mauls had, it was easy yo see how distraught he was becoming. Ian, however, saw something completely different.

"Huh, guess we don't need the shovel, we'll just let his pet monster clean him up."

Everything went to seven hells as Stark was not only forced away from the charge she was to protect but in her own lapse, and as she would refer to as weakness, the creature has seen right thought what it was that she wanted to do and had batted away her magic like it was nothing. Her scaley clawed arms would cross before her face in an 'X' to block the flames that the bird had aimed at Drosil. The chill kissed her scales but nothing more than that...it would be a thought she would think on later.

For now she would deal with hitting and sliding across the snow covered ground with a grunt before opening her eyes and scrambling to her feet.

But it had been far too late. She knew the moment it happened-when the pressure on her head had disappeared- and the odd scent of cold iron filled the air. She could only stand there with horror on her face staring at Drosil's frozen body. The air was struggling to make it's way from her throat to her lungs and back again; it was a suffacating and all to familiar scenario. She'd been charged with protecting another and she had failed and her charge had ended up dead on the ground in a bleeding mess while she'd been thrown away from the scene like useless trash.

Ian would see her large non human arms and hands shaking, her mouth slack and her eyes opened wide with pure fear and sadness. Stark would see two scenes as though they were over laid on top of the other. One of Drosil's frozen body and another of a young pretty girl with a face like porcelain with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as the ice in the Northern Mountains. Both bodies broken and both bodies very dead.

"Shut up you useless man. Can you not see he is mourning his lost master? Must everything be a joke with you?" Those arms returned to human flesh as her eyes blazed and focused those churning emotions of sadness and regret into pure anger. "Silence yourself or I will do it for you with my teeth." She kept her ground for a moment longer before slowly taking shaky steps towards the frozen body and Mauls, keeping her eyes away from Drosil's body and focusing on the creature with a light touch. "If you must speak then do it to the Lady. This is her home and if she doesn't already know what has happened she may as well hear it from one who isn't responsible for it."

"Yes, pretty much," was Ian's response to her angered shout, simply shrugging his shoulders as she walked over to the frozen remains of the mage. It was this action that allowed him to see what Stark would likely miss in her grief: the slightest of twitches. Ian opened his mouth in order to alert Stark of this, but before he could get out a single word, Drosil's body would explode into a torrent of White and blue flames, completely incinerating the summoner's body and turning it into a fine white ash, which would begin to coalesce over head into a rather spherical shape. This sphere would grow to about 7 ft in size as it seemed to absorb the flames into it's core. This would continue for a few moments until there were no flames left, in which the sphere would simply implode on it's safe with a crack, letting loose a blinding flash of light.

Once the light died down and vision returned to those witnessing the event, Stark and Ian would find a human figure standing where Drosil's body was. Their form was covered in a number of crystalline feathers feathers, sparkling in the light of the red moon with a certain inner glow, but they would not remain for long as they soon fell away, starting near the top and making their way down. In this way, the figure was revealed to be Drosil himself, though it was clear that something had happened to him(besides his coming back to life from a rather gruesome death), as the black of his hair was completely replaced by a deep Ice Blue, not to mention that his eyes had gone through a similar transition, with the green being replaced by a similar coloring, if a few shades lighter, though the golden starburst still remained. As more of his form was revealed, the two would see the red crystalline scar that crossed his chest, as well as the strange scar of black flesh that was located over his stomach area, and new to his collection of strange scars was a strange feather-like pattern that seemed to cover the parts of his body that were previously broken apart.

As soon as the last of the feathers were broken apart, Drosil's form would fall to the ground, but would never make it as Sir Mauls was quick to rush forward and catch him on his back. The Deathcrawler would be careful to let the mage down gently to the ground, prodding him lightly with his antennae. After a few moments of this, he would begin to clatter excitedly as it circled Drosil's body, undulating it's body up and down as it did so in obvious happiness. If Stark went to check Drosil's body, they'd find him to be unconscious, but very much alive, though his body would feel strangely cold to the touch.

Stark's initial reaction was to leap backwards and prepare for some kind of an attack but everything happened so quick that when all was said and done she stood there stunned and beyond confused. However, that confusion would be pushed back as she took a few strides forward and found herself on her knees next to Drosil's form with her hands on him in the most clinical of manner. Fingers pressed gently to the base of his oddly cold throat and an ear pressed to his chest. She could hear a beat, though the cold emitting from his body sent a chill down her spine. "I don't know how Sir Drosil did it but I can hear a heartbeat and he's breathing."

She sat up straight again as she spoke to Drosil's face, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do at this point Mister Drosil but judging just you-" It clicked in her mind what had happened. "You fucking bonded with that Phoenix didn't you." She wasn't expecting an answer by any means but the expression on her face was one of being fully fed up and one of intense curiosity.

At first, Drosil didn't seem to respond, but as Stark spoke, his eyes seemed to gain the shine of life. After about a minute, he'd let out a huge gasp, his head would rise up quickly as he suddenly sprung forward. . . only to be stopped by coming into direct contact with Stark's own head, leading him to fall back with a groan, rolling over on to the ground.

"Agggh, What the-, How the-?!?!? Drosil quickly rose up, his gaze confused as he grabbed at himself, feeling the pulse beneath his skin and the (relative) warmth of his breath. He looked around a bit, seeming to want to scream and shout and over all just have an all out panic attack, which he had a right to do after being suddenly brought back from the cruel touch of death, but instead, he simply took a few deep breaths, exercising breathing exercises in order to slow himself down and anchor him in the moment. This almost had an adverse effect as this seemed to have a reaction with . . . whatever the hell happened to him, as spouts of Icenfire seemed to burst to life around him, but he managed to control his emotions after a few more moments. Once he was calmed down, he got up and walked over to a nearby pack, his face becoming rather flushed as he realized his rather telling lack of dress(and he tried to cover himself up with his hands as best he could), before he brushed the snow off of a pack he'd set to the side before starting the business of summoning the phoenix. He soon found himself a spare tunic and some breeches to put on, as well as what he had originally been looking for. Within the pack where the three vials of Dragon's Breath Rum that he had made back when he had made a fool of himself with the Paladin. He then quickly walked back to where Stark was, took a seat, and tossed a vial her way.

"I've no idea what just happened to me, but I do know that I just died, then came back from death. As our privateer friend Dalious would say. . . I need a fucking drink. I don't know if you do, but take a hit if you want. It's strong, but right now seems the perfect time. And with that, Drosil popped open the remaining two vials and down them both, one after the other. The effect was instant, as he fell over with a rather intense blush on his face, not to mention that the area around him was literally heating up. So much so that the snow was melting at an accelerated rate in a circle around him and Sir Mauls started to back away, as it was getting a bit uncomfortable. He also began to take out a few purple and silver leaves, and was probably going to start chewing on them in order to further separate himself from whatever just happened.

Stark wasn't quick enough to avoid Drosil's head colliding with her own-receiving a near instant headache from the contact. She fell back onto her haunches with her face scrunched up and her palms pressing into her forehead. "Relax! You're fine Mister Dro-ah!" She exclaimed as she did something akin to a crab walk to get away from the instant chill that came from the cold flames. With her headache forgotten for the moment she pushed to a standing position with a scrunched face. His state of nudity didn't phase her int he slightest, still being respectful enough to lok away as he stood, but not making mention of it for the time being. However, as he sat back down with a few vials and even handed her one she chose to speak again, "No thank you, Sir...." Stark observed with a keen eye at the affects of the crudely named liquid and even going so far as to arc a brow at the leaves he was pulling out.

"Alright Mister Drosil. Before you start chewing and getting blasted," She coughed realizing she didn't mean the pun but continued anyways, "...we need to get you to somewhere that isn't here. Mauls, help me please?" Stark looked towards the skiddish beast who gave a few clicks as Stark pulled Drosil to his feet and kept under him to keep him steady as they moved back towards the castle. "Please Mister Drosil. Don't ever do that again."

As Stark spoke, Drosil couldn't help to chuckle a bit, his eyes seeming strangely focused, though notably off due to the fact that the gold and blue were constantly mixing together to crate a strange kaledioscopic effect.

"Come now Stark, if I can't use formalities, then you shouldn't either. Divines know I don't deserve after everything I've done. B-besides. . ." The mage took a slight pause, his mouth hanging open for a second before he suddenly let out a muted sneeze, which was accompanied by two gouts of Icenfire blasting out of his back, incinerating the upper shoulder area of his tunic. The flames, while giving those nearby a rather sharp numbing sensation, wouldn't harm their flesh in the slightest. Drosil, seemingly unaware of what he just did, simply rubbed his nose, then his shoulders as he suddenly seemed to feel the cold that suddenly emanated from his body. Damn Phoenix . . .*sniff*, Anyway, as I was saying, I don't deserve any such formalities. That honor goes to Sir Cyril, the Queen, even Vesta probably deserves the titles more than I do, for all the stock she probably puts in them. Me? A Sir? Hah, that's a laugh. I'm a failed scholar, a terrible, self-righteous, naive fool who dabbles in powers he can't understand, no matter who it hurts. My curiosity and thirst for knowledge has always been my worst trait. . . Also what gets me into the most trouble, and since that never changes, then I can't promise you that that will never happen again, if what you're talking about happens to be me dying. You know what they say, 'A Fool and his life are soon parted' . . . or was it a fool abnd his money, which would also be rather apt know that I think about it.

It seemed that, even in his addled state, Drosil was still prone to talking quite a bit more than was needed, though any possible humor in this was undercut by the self-disparaging and defeatist tone that could be sensed past his slight slurring of words. As the two walked forward, Drosil stuck the silver leaf into his mouth, sucking on it softly, his pupils widening ever so slightly as he did so. Every now and then, a few puffs of flame would come out of the side of his mouth, floating through the air like glowing mist and leaving any who touched it with a slight numbing feeling. As he walked, his vision would suddenly leave him, the redden winter wonder land the Phoenix had created replaced by a vision of his homeland, the Orphanage that he called to be precise. It was the dead of night as a group of men in dark clothes snuck into the building. The vision would suddenly shift to the inside of the building, apparently a few minutes in the future. The bare, yet comforting interior was covered with gore as the bodies of children were strewn about, all of them wearing expressions of terror and pain, apparently cut down in the process of running. How Drosil was viewing this apparent atrocity, it moved forward with an unnerving slowed and awkward gait, his line of sight rising and falling as if he was making a strange lurching motion with his legs. Soon, he'd come to a door, which would open to show the face of a gruff-looking man, obviously Jasian, with his Skin darkened to a dark brown, his stern features twisted into a sadistic, self-satisfied smile, which was made even crueler by the large scar that parted his face in a jagged line from his left temple all the way down to the bottom of his right cheek, as he carried a figure over his shoulder, draped in black and gold robes that were stained with red and ripped in places to show pale skin and glistening red wounds beneath.

As the man walked through Drosil's apparent position, he get a long, horrifying look at a familiar face. Before him, blleding out onto the floor with the rest of the men in dark clothes, was the Husband. As Drosil looked on,he could swear the man's eyes widen in recognition, before he gave a comforting smile that Drosil had knwon for all his life. This apparently was to the displeasure one of the men, who quickly grabbed the man by his color. All Drosil could see was the glint of steel, followed by the sound of metal parting flesh. The Husband's body spasmed for a bit, only to soon fall still. Their were muttered sounding shouts and curses as the man's compatriots got on him for killing their hostage, to which the man in question pointed to the other one, who Drosil could now identify to be the Wife, but at the moment, Drosil couldn't really focus on that, as the vision he was seeing was soon turning red as a deep dark emotion flowed through his mind.

The vision would end after that and, while Drosil wasn't aware of it, Stark would also have been privvy to what Drosil had just seen, if not the emotions he felt while viewing it. In any case, Drosil's eyes would be covered by his hair, the luminesence of which would slowly dim as the white would slowly turn first to gray, then dark black as the magical pressure around him suddenly began to build, before he suddenly let out a breath, followed by a dry chuckle.

"Damn drugs . . . always showing me what I'm afraid of. . . yeah, that must be it . . . just a drug addled halucination. . . nothing more. . . please be nothing more."

Drosil would soon disengage himself from Stark, walking forward at a brisk, if unsteady pace, almost as if he was trying to run away from what he had just seen. As he walked, one could easily tell how jumbled his emotions and mental state from the effects he had on the environemnt, which was progressively getting less snow covered. Grass would switched between being covered in a rather dangerous layer of frost to steaming and spontaneously combusting as the temperature around him fluctuated wildly. Whatever happened, he'd son arrived at the Mansion physically, though mentally he was somewhere quite different.

---

"What the hell was that all about?" Ian would say from behind Stark as he caught up to her and Sir Mauls, who was seeming rather concerned for his Master, but unsure if it was safe to approach him. "I took him to be a talky drunk, not a moody one. Also, what were you guys looking at a little while ago, you were standing stock still for a good minute or so before he suddenly started to got his pants in a twist. Oh, and by the way, could you tell him to not fuck up the garden and plants anymore than he already has? I'm almost certain that Lady Renata is going to be pissed off as it is for the impromptu cold snap, so he doesn't need to make it worse by doing . . . whatever the hell he's doing right now. It might be red demon grass, but it's probably not going to survive such dramatic shifts in temperature. I'd tell him myself but . . . well, he doesn't like me much as it is, and I doubt he would be willing to put up with me know anymore than he was before."

The visions startled Stark the moment they began but she didn't pull away from Drosil. Everything he felt-she was experiencing and knew those emotions well. She'd kept a tight lid on her own mouth and her own words as she aided the man further down the path to the hallways to wherever he had needed to go. It wasn't until Ian opened his mouth that she threw a side long glance at the bard with an odd glint in her eyes before quietly saying, "Shut up Sir Drosil. You're a damn genius who just proved not only the existence of a disturbingly illusive creature but bonded with it as well. No fool could do that. So just shut up and let's get you to somewhere you can rest okay?" She didn't particularly enjoy her wording being so brash but she was tired and just wanted this all to be over with-especially if the Lady of the house was going to kill them. When Drosil separated himself from her she simply rose an arm and with a flick of her wrist put out the flames that were sparking up here and there-even if her arms felt odd and a bit heavy from their changing over earlier. She kept her mouth shut as she didn't know exactly what it was she had seen and didn't think it right to make mention of anything.

She turned her attention to Ian with a sad smile, "I think I saw some personal things I don't think I was meant to see or speak about so please respect that alright Sir? If Lady Renate get's mad then just place the blame on me-he's a bit more valuable than I am so I shall take any punishment for him." She gave a curt nod to the bard before taking a few larger steps before pausing and turning to face him fully, "Thank you Mister Blackwood." Turning quickly and catching back up to Drosil, preferring to keep an eye on him at close range rather than far. Their trip inside of the mansion still sending chills down her spine.

Ian merely grinned roguishly at Stark, giving a small bow as she thanked him.

"Ah, no need to worry yourself with that, my dear. I am a member of the household, and as such, should've done better to protect the Madame's plants from frigid annihilation. I'll be certain to take full responsibility for what happened, as well as any punishments and consequences that may come of it. And please, don't let the mage's self-deprecating nature infect you as well, it simply doesn't suit such a beautiful flower like yourself. You must focus on blooming yourself before your begin to help others, lest you end up starving yourself of the nutrients of life." As Ian spoke, he pulled out a small lute, and began to play a light melody, followed soon by a short sweet hymn in another alien sounding language, and Stark would feel the cold shiver and any negativity held within her heart, mind, and body lessen quite a bit, her mood likely improving as her body was filled with an overall warm, positive feeling.

As the two went towards the mansion, Ian would follow at a distance, giving the two their space while, in his mind, planning, an idea of how to play with the two mages forming in his mind. As he walked, he noticed the Deathcrwaler suddenly scuttle back to the Garden, only return sometime after with the Mage's discarded equipment, including the rod from before. Ian looked on without a word, taking a deep breath before letting out a sigh.

"Better get on with it, I suppose."

Ian's form as he walked suddenly burst forward in a burst of speed, easily passing by Stark and Drosil as his Boots ate up the ground beneath him, rocketing him towards the mansion at a fast pace as he went to find his Mistress and inform her of the Garden's demise, as well as taking responsibility for the incident.

Lady Renata's Household - The Gates

Their travels took them far and wide, to the east. For most of the evening, Jinn remained vigilant of their surroundings. When morning should have arrived and they were greeted by eternal twilight, the elvish warrior gave a sharp whistle, to stir the others.

“So, we are close now,” he stated, as he gestured for the horses to slow their trot. “Why don’t we stop for a bit and ease out the saddle sores?” He didn’t even try for a graceful dismount, instead deciding to just go limp and crash on his side. He groaned a bit as the ground broke his fall, cursing the Divine for putting him in this situation. As he stood, joints popped and cracked as if they were speaking a secret language.

“Did I ever tell you guys about the time I nearly got sold into slavery?,” he asked with a chuckle. “So get this,” he began as the others dismounted, ”I am living in Jasi for a good fifty years or so, doing odd jobs to meet end’s meet and put food in my belly. Suddenly, this damsel offers me a job to be one of her helpers. Now normally, I would ask what that entailed and what not. However, there was something off about this lady. So here I am, eating roasted oats with some yak’s milk and a platter of cookies, and before I even know it, the bitch pulls a gun on me faster than I could blink. Thank god she was a terrible shot, only grazed the side of my ear as I rolled out of the way. Now, I have two options here: Kill her and face the charges later or run like a bitch. So I decided to book it and hopefully find a weapon of my own. I should also include that the entire time I am in nothing but my birthday suit and a towel I was sitting on for comfort.”

It was here that Alice raised a hand. She blinked a couple times and looked between her cousin and sister. “Uhm… Why have I never received a birthday suit? They sound comfy. Can I see yours?!”
Krissandria sighed, shaking her head, a slow shake of her head following. “You don’t want to, trust me.. So, Jinn, as interesting as this is… can we wrap it up..?”

“Not done yet! So I chuck my bowl at the bitch, splashing yak’s milk all over her gown and run for the back exit of the place I was staying at. Shame to me that she happened to have her older, much larger siblings with her. So I get decked in the jaw, knocked the fuck out and the next moment all I know is that I am in shackles with a bunch of other naked dudes and chicks. Now, this may sound like one of those parties I go to, but I wasn’t having any of that. So I turn as best I could and break my wrist and thumb to slip out. Now I have two weapons, my own broken wrist and a new shiny shackle. The guards posted around us were coming in fast, so I had to act fast. I was in some deep pain. My wrist was on fire, my head was throbbing like a bull hit me, and I was still hungry from earlier. I whipped around and jabbed my bone through the one guys’s side, took ’em out quick, but I didn’t have the time to celebrate before any other smucke came to tackle me to the ground and beat me to a fine red mist. Using the shackle, I broke both my ankles to free myself. Now here I was, in an open market full of Jasian dickholes with three broken limbs and only a shackle for a real weapon. One, two, I cleaved my way through the others slaves to hobble my way down a back alley. I didn’t want to harm them really, but I had to do something to get away. I run into this bathhouse to try and lose the guards, use the mist to my advantage right? I actually managed to slip on the damn floor and bust my tail bone. So I am sore all over, bleeding heavily, and I am still bloody hungry the entire time. I crawled my way around through all the chaos and confusion into the ladies section and stole some old bag’s drab pea green dress.”

Alice’s eyes widened along with her smile. “I love pea green..~”

Krissandria, on the other hand, let loose another sigh. “Is this story going anywhere now..? Please, shut up…”

“Yes, if you are patient. Now, with how I was walking, it was an easy disguise. I still had to hide the shackle though, it was an ugly eyesore. So I actually nicked a stray kid off the street and told him that if he was good and just followed along I would adopt him and be his father. So, long story short, that is how I am a happy father of a Jasian sprout.”

Krissandria frowned. “I thought this was the story of-... You know what? Nevermind…”

Alice grinned ear-to-ear, “I HAVE A SECOND COUSIN?!”

He couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his younger cousins, but of their reactions brought him joy. “That’s right Alice, you do! I think I have pictures around here somewhere…”

After a few moments to relax and recover, more so from Jinn’s story than the journey, the trio casually made their way down the trail to the manor looming before them. “Think this is the place?,” Jinn asked while nodding his head towards the gates before them. Regardless, he lead the others onward until they stood just outside the intricate gates barring their path. Shrugging, he raised a fist up and started banging wildly. “Oi! Open up! I’m tired and my ass hurts!”

It was probably a fortunate coincidence that someone happened to be nearby to hear the banging almost as soon as it started. It was also fortunate that not only was this individual was Barcean, but the Prince himself as well. That morning, he had found himself pacing outside; he was anxious, and it was an emotion that he didn’t want any of the others to see for any length of time. It was as he was passing by one of the fountains closer to the fence that he heard the banging, and blinking slightly he quickly made his way in that direction.

His eyes widened slightly as his gaze fell upon two he recognized with one extra, and quickly he went to the gate. “Krissandria, Alice-!” Before he could quite reach the gate, however, it suddenly opened inward on its own, forcing him to quickly backtrack one large step so that he wouldn’t be struck. With the way clear, he stepped forwards to meet them, saying, “You’re earlier than I expected! How far away is Kori’s group?”

Krissandria was quick to dismount and make her way to the Prince. She bowed low, eyes closing tightly as his sister’s name was mentioned. “It’s just us, M’lord… She… Kori, she gave herself to them… They came to the city, and…” her bow fell further, taking a knee, one arm draped over knee, other hand touching to the ground lightly. “I couldn’t stop her… Her decision was made.”

It seemed to take a moment for what the elf was saying to register with the Prince, but when it did his face immediately paled as his expression fell. Slowly he took another slight step back, hand coming up to rest on the side of his head briefly. “Oh, I see… How did… Never mind. Who are you…?” With that he looked over to the third member of the group, the one that he didn’t yet recognize.

He gave a short bow, his hand placed against his heart. “I am Jinn Sagaro, your Highness. First son of Aust, heir to the Sagaro line, and cousin to my dear Alice and Kriss here.” He wore a grin as he straightened, meeting the Prince’s gaze. “I haven’t been around much this past century, but I am still loyal to my homeland. I fought in the last war, you can bet your ass that I will fight in this one.”

The Prince nodded slightly, and was clearly only half listening to the strange newcomer. "Thank you. I'd say get some rest after your travels, but..." He didn't quite finish that thought as he turned, but he didn't have to. After a few steps he suddenly raised his voice, shouting out with surprising volume, not quite unlike a sergeant barking orders (for he knew he wasn't the only one outside at all): "EVERYONE, SPREAD THE NEWS! WE LEAVE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

While those not a part of the Sentinels might have confused or even startled by the sudden yell, the members of the group knew that something terribly important was at stake, and moved quickly to ensure that everyone else knew it as well. Eventually, the details of the situation began to spread throughout the group in general, and the sense of energy was known by them all.

Those who thought fifteen minutes was too short forgot about where they were. The home of the Lady of Demons, while confusing most of the time, in those moments became surprisingly clear and straightforward. People found each other in a matter of seconds, and it was easy to gather supplies for the impending trip. In those few minutes, a few decisions were quickly made; the diviner, Etsuko Tanaka, would remain behind at the Lady of Demons, while Calypso would proceed with the group. Though this seemed to displease the silver haired woman greatly (even if her odd smile didn't slip), she eventually accepted the idea.

Within fifteen minutes they had gathered and were mounted up, like the Prince had ordered. He was prepared to leave; any would-be stragglers would simply have to catch up. Just before the departure truly began the Lady of Demons herself appeared with her sister and her butler, the former of which keeping quiet and still for once as she practically clung to the Lady Renata's arm, seeming to understand just how serious this was and not liking a second of it. The Lady of Demons, meanwhile, remained perfectly calm, and for once didn't have a shadow of a smirk upon her face as she looked to the Prince, and said one simple thing:

"Good luck, Prince Serio."

"Thank you for your patronage, Lady Renata."

It was with this brief, polite set of pleasantries that the group left on. They travelled hard, with the absolutely minimum amount of breaks. So quickly they went it was around midnight that night they reached the Hanasaki inn once again, where they stopped briefly as the Prince entered. There, they lost almost an hour, waiting outside before the Prince finally emerged alone again, stony faced, and joined by no one. They continued riding from there, and only stopped to rest at somewhere around three in the morning.

With dawn, they immediately began travelling again. A full day passed, the absolutely necessary rest was taken again, and then with the next rise of the sun they continued on to finally reach the Capitol. However, they did not stop; there was no reason to, after all. They already knew the Queen had been taken, and they would find no good army waiting for them there, the Prince knew. So they continued on, and it was the next day they finally properly stopped again at one of the border fortresses, where what was left of the Barcean army had gathered.

There, they learned that the Barceans had already tried several times to penetrate the H'kelan border, but had failed miserably each time. Their forces were bled and tired, and this was all Cyril had to try and make his own incursion...

Until they heard the horns blowing from the north, which prompted a rush to the walls. There, they could see the disorganized procession of the Gurtans approaching, a loud rabble of weapon toting men and women, singing and clamoring for battle. While most of their group remained outside, three figures in particular approached the gates, which were opened so that the Prince could greet them in person. While Yihira rode upon a plain brown horse, Seryosa was upon her snow leopard, which had been fully armored, and Kisarin was on a massive steed that had clearly been bred to handle his stature.

"Ah, there's my favorite Barcean Prince!" The massive man said with a laugh. "Tell me, have you been having trouble without us? We've already poked a few holes into our mutual enemy, and sent them scurrying back some! Then again, I'm not quite sure what's defined as the border down here, so perhaps we're actually the aggressors, but..."

Kisarin's mirth, though welcome, quickly faded away as Cyril explained the situation to them. From there, they quickly made a plan; what was left of the Barcean forces would join with the Guratans, and from there they would use overwhelming numbers to break through the H'kelan line properly. Even as they were speaking of what would come next, the Chieftans sent off messengers to have their forces "soften the line," so to speak.

From there, the decision was made that, while the Guratans would wage war on a more "traditional" scale, the Prince would lead his own group into H'kela to locate the Queen, and mount a rescue mission. They knew the plan was risky, but they also knew that Gartian was notoriously unstable, and who knew what the man would do when faced with even the slightest possibility of losing his prize.

A few additions and subtractions were made from the group. Chi and Ayano would remain with the Guratans, where the Princess would be the most protected, and Chi as a sort of escort. The Guratans, meanwhile, added two people to the ranks of the Sentinels, if only for a little; they were people that they would recognize, being the blind swordsman Badain and his archer companion Sarah. They would come along to assist as necessary, but also to act as messengers if necessary.

When the news returned that they would be able to pass, the Sentinels were prepared to move, and left again with speed. Without incident they passed over the border into the land of their enemy, and the change was quickly apparent. Grass and hills fell away to rocks and dunes. The temperature, even as the sun began to set, seemed to be greater than what they had felt earlier that day, on the other side of the border. Night quickly fell, and they made camp.

It was decided that night that Alasa would head on, towards one of the nearest towns. He was to covertly learn as much about Kori's situation as he could, if possible, and then wait for the group at predetermined point on the map. Alasa was more than willing to go alone, but Cyril wasn't willing to send him alone; so Calypso was to go with him, and the two left quickly and quietly, cloaked.

H'kela - Alasa and Calypso

They were a strange duo, that much was certain. However, Calypso wasn't necessarily a bad travelling companion; though she was strange, she listened to the orders he gave without hesitation, followed them to the letter, and when it mattered acted on her own. It was a learning experience for the archer, but a quick one as well.

When they arrived at the village it was quiet, very quiet. The structure of the buildings weren't like that of Barcean villages, more made from sandstone rather than any sort of wood, and they were quite low to the ground as well, in some cases actually sunk down within it. The bar they stopped at to gather information was one such building, a set of three steps leading down to the door, and into the building. For the most part, the bar was empty of all save the true drunkards, but Alasa knew that those kinds of persons could be gold mines, so long as they didn't vomit anywhere.

While one man got a little too close for comfort to Calypso (though he certainly had no chance of actually telling that she was upset, with as inebriated as he was), Alasa was focused on the three men he had sat with. With careful questions that were more general than anything else, he found the drunk men sharing more than enough. They had plenty to talk about, what with the violence on the border due to the "damned Barceans," and as soon as that was said Alasa subtly pounced, turning the conversation towards the Queen.

It was a struggle to control his reaction due to what he heard next, but he managed to simply steel his jaw and keep from paling too much. For about a week the H'kelans had been celebrating the capture of the Barcean Queen, thinking it would finally bring conflicts to a ware. With the capture of the Queen, however, came an announcement from the Rabid King himself that had set the date well in advance: The Queen's life was to end in two days.

Alasa knew that meeting the Prince the next day had to go off without a hitch for them to have a chance of saving the Queen. It was a matter of getting away from the village as quickly as possible, hopefully with no pursuit, but thankfully Calypso picked that moment to act on her own. A terrified scream came from the man that was getting too close to her as he fell back, tumbling to the ground with a pale, sweaty, and disoriented expression.

"Her face... Her face-!"

Alasa moved quickly, and grabbed Calypso by the shoulder to begin leading her away. As he did so he had forced her to turn, keeping everyone from seeing how the structure of her face was rapidly shifting and resetting back into what could only be thought of as a so-called "standard" Calypso, from the somewhat twisted reflection of the face of the man who had bothered her. Even as they passed the collapsed man, Alasa gave him a glance, before calmly saying, "Seems like you had something bad in your drink, mate."

And, like that, they were gone.

H'kela, the Next Day - Full Company

The next day the sun rose early, and so did they. The heat they felt the day before was nothing compared to that day, and the dark cloaks they all wore to conceal their identities from those passing by did little to help keep them cool. After an hour of travel they saw both Alasa and Calypso waiting for them, and quickly closed the distance.

Quickly, Alasa caught them all up on the terrible situation. Simply learning that the Queen was to be executed wasn't enough for the archer, and after a little bit of extra travel and the crossing of a camp, he had learned where the execution was to take place as well: a temple dedicated to Danmun.

Cyril knew that their only chance to save his sister would be that next day, at the execution itself. Though it would be dangerous, there would be the least number of walls between her and them at that time, and more importantly they would be able to use the crowd itself in order to get as close as they could.

Once again they began to move, and they knew they were heading in the right direction soon enough. From far and wide, H'kelans were coming to witness a historic moment: the beheading of the Queen of their greatest enemy. The crowds were quickly and thickly gathering, and they had to be careful to maintain their anonymity even with their cloaks and covers.

The temple of Danmun came into sight in the evening, and it was certainly one to behold. They set up camp nearby, as far away from other travelers as they could while still remaining close, which was easier said than done with how more and more were coming with each passing hour. From their position they could easily see the temple, and examine it to plan for the next day.

The temple itself was rectangular in shape, made from dark stone and three floors high. There were plenty of columns set around it, and it seemed to be that there had once been a surrounding structure, perhaps an outer temple of some sort, that had collapsed and was in broken ruins. The most eye-catching feature about the temple were the great stones hand that surrounded it, larger enough to have the fingers curl up and around the structure, fingers for the most part above the front end of the temple. Of them all, only a single finger was broken away, being the left thumb, which had apparently long ago tumbled and rolled away a decent distance from the temple, but was still within the ring of ruins created by what once may have been the outer temple's structure.

All around the temple were H'kelan soldiers, heavily armored, and preventing the rabble from entering.

Without knowing too much more, the plan was made in broader strokes. To say what they had to do was easy: stop whatever method of execution that was to be used on the Queen, rescue her, and then all escape together. For that, they would rely on the Guratans securing them a path. Through hearsay they had heard how those from the north had surged into H'kela, and were rapidly spreading, but that had apparently done nothing to keep Gartian from going forward with his thirst for the Queen's blood. It was then they said farewell to Badain and Sarah, the two quietly leaving in order to take the news to the Chieftans, and ensure their route for escape. Unfortunately they didn't have time to wait for any sort of confirmation, so they had to rely on faith alone.

H'kela - The Day of the Execution

They were up before the sun that day, preparing themselves. Weapons were checked and readied, spells were prepared and rehearsed, and those who prayed got their penitence in, whether quietly to themselves or openly with others. The Prince kept mostly to himself to begin with, standing away from the others; there were rings under his eyes which showed how he hadn't slept at all the night before, but who could blame him for that? Already he was running on pure adrenaline, and it was taking every ounce of effort he had not to charge in then and there.

It was just before midday they began to move, for it was at that time the soldiers stood down, retreating back towards the temple itself and allowing the people to come forward as well. They moved quickly, ensuring that they were at the not quite front of the crowd, able to examine the environment even as they entered.

Apparently, Gartian was going to go with something simple that day; a scaffold had built, and a chopping block placed upon it; the chopping block was surprisingly clean. The soldiers that had been keeping anyone from entering the night before had instead set up a perimeter around the scaffold, protecting a decent space around it with defensive lines several men deep.

With everything they could see observed, Cyril whispered orders that spread throughout the group quickly and quietly. They were to spread throughout the crowd, and get as close to the front as they possibly could without alerting anyone. Those who relied more on range, however, were to do something else; they were to get as close to a place that they would be able to do plenty from, and prepare to move into it on Cyril's order. The collapsed thumb came to mind in particular.

Though they spread out, they did so in a way that one person was never truly isolated from any other, one of their allies just a few feet away. With that, the wait began, and Gartian didn't keep them in suspense for very long.

Both the Queen of Barcea and King of H'kela emerged at the same time, but in very different places. The Queen emerged from down below, from the main doors to the temple, flanked by H'kelan guards as an escort; from what they could see, she was surprisingly uninjured, clean and dressed in her finery, complete with her crown upon her head. On the other hand, Gartian emerged up above, on the balcony that surrounded the third level of the temple. He too didn't emerge alone, but with him was only the Advisor, who stood back and away from the King slightly. Gartian too was dressed in his finery, but seemed to have made a conscious effort to appear grander than the Queen down below.

When both royals emerged, the crowd erupted in cheers for the one up above, and boos for the one below; it created a strange, discordant mix that clashed in the ears, the conflicting emotions filling the air with an unpleasant buzz. The King brought up both hands, basking in the noise even as Kori was led to the scaffold. The soldiers on the rear of the structure moved aside for her, and she was able to walk up the steps herself alone at first, before she was followed by the man who could only be her executioner, with the way he was wrapped up and hooded.

At the sight of Kori being led to the block, Cyril nearly surged forward then and there, but Sampson had the foresight to stay near the Prince, reaching out to grab his arm and hold him by it tightly. Up above, Gartian suddenly dropped both of his hands, and very rapidly everything went silent.

"GOOD PEOPLE OF H'KELA! TODAY IS A GREAT DAY FOR OUR NATION!" As he gave his decree from above, the Rabid King began to slowly pace back and forth, going three steps in one direction, turning to go six in the other, and then from there continuing to go back and forth in sets of six steps. One hand came up, clenched in a fist. "IN FRONT OF YOU STANDS THE WHORE QUEEN OF BARCEA! LOOK AT HER, EVEN AS HER COLD GAZE LOOKS DOWN UPON YOU ALL!"

Here, the crowd overwhelmingly roared with their boos, and Gartian allowed them for a full ten seconds before he once again cut them off by lowering his hand, so that he might continue. "THIS WOMAN IS THE SPAWN OF OLAIN SERIO, WHO WAS ONLY THE MOST RECENT KING OF THE BARCEANS TO PILLAGE OUR LANDS! THOUGH SHE KEPT QUIET TO BEGIN WITH, IT WAS ONLY HER BIDING TIME, PREPARING TO DRAIN OUR BLOOD ONCE AGAIN! NO MORE, I SAY, NO MORE! TODAY, THIS ENDS WITH HER WRETCHED LIFE! NO LONGER WILL THE BARCEANS BLEED US; WE WILL HAVE THEIR BLOOD INSTEAD, BEGINNING WITH THE BLOOD OF THEIR PRECIOUS QUEEN!"

With that the cheers rose once again, and Gartian allowed them to continue much longer than the booing before he once again cut them off. He pointed down below, and with that gesture the executioner moved, going to grab Kori's arm; however, the Queen pulled away, and under her own effort knelt down in front of the block. She was completely and utterly calm.

"OBSERVER OUR NEW NATIONAL MONUMENTS, GOOD PEOPLE OF H'KELA! THE BLOCK WHERE WE WILL TAKE HER HEAD WAS MADE JUST FOR HER, AND WILL ONLY BE STAINED WITH HER BLOOD! AND LET'S NOT FORGET HER HEAD, THE ONE THING WORTH COLLECTING FROM BARCEA!" Again he made another motion, and the executioner tried to move again, but once more the Queen moved first, placing her own head on the block.

"OH, IT SEEMS SHE'S DECIDING TO MAKE THIS EASY FOR US! VERY WELL THEN, LET'S OBLIGE HER! EXECUTIONER, HAVE AT HER!" Even as spit flew from the King with his words, the executioner was moving to the side. The axe he held in his hands was a terrible tool, one that he began to bring up.

And, finally, Cyril let loose. "NOW!"

From where he stood next to the collapsed stone thumb, Alasa surged upwards. It was easy to climb, the rock well-worn with plenty of cracks, and it took him no time at all to make it to above. Once there, he pulled his bow around from his back, arrow at the ready, and with just a second to aim he let loose. The arrow cut through the air and collided with the axe on its descent, knocking it away from the executioner; before the man could realize what was happening, the next arrow found his head, and down he collapsed.

Screams erupted throughout the crowd, which began to surge backwards, fleeing. In contrast, Cyril and the Sentinels stepped forwards. The Prince's hand came up, and with a single movement he pulled the cloak around him away, tossing it to the side and behind him; the rest of the Sentinels did the same, before they all drew their weapons together.

Up above Gartian howled with laughter, both hands gripping the railing of the balcony tightly. "OH, WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT! IT'S THE PRINCE HIMSELF, COME TO JOIN US! I TOTALLY DIDN'T EXPECT THIS AT ALL! KILL THEM ALL!"

With the orders given, the soldiers all turned together to face the Sentinels, and the first line charged. Outnumbered, a tension passed through the Sentinels, before Cyril suddenly thrust his blade forward.

"CUT DOWN ALL BETWEEN US AND THE QUEEN!"

In that moment, those greats among them, such as Joachim, Alsius, and Damon surged forwards, more often then not sending enemies truly flying as they dove deep into the enemy ranks, while the other members of the Sentinels clashed into that first line with steel ready.

The initial shouting of Cyril sent Alice flying into action. Her items had never really been unpacked aside from being polished and cleaned every night per her usual routines. Her weapons, including the new bullets Karin had gifted her, were packed and ready to go. Her horse was saddled and ready to move the moment Cyril gave the order. Something was churning at the pit of her stomach. She’d never had to deal with something like this before but she was in it now, may as well see it to the end-be it good, bad, or indifferent.

She’d kept her head down with the arrival of the Chieftains and kept it down well into their camping for the evening. She was rather perturbed at the fact she had not been able to utilize her sole form of magic- invading one’s mind to withdraw information. It was with that magic she had finished most of her jobs in the previous years. Instead of dwelling on the issue Alice simply turned to making food for the party and making it as delicious and warm as possible. She knew, thanks to that small annoying voice in the back of her mind, this could potentially be the final meal of some and she would be damned if they had something poor.

In her usual fashion Alice was one of the last to sleep, after the Prince himself who she left alone as she knew not what to say to the man, and one of the first to rise. She rationed out what was left from the night before, just enough for everyone to eat if they so decided-many didn’t with the heat clearly on its way to melt them all.

Alice, under the thick coat and hood, was sweating bullets under the weight of her loaded weapons and her fully arranged rifle slung hidden against her back. She’d received instructions to move towards the broken thumb and proceed forward when the time came. Something akin to rage made her heart beat hard in her chest and her blood to run thick.

’How dare they disrespect her! How dare he think he is enough to rule a country-full of garbage as it may be.’ Alice stole a glance towards the King and the Advisor just behind him with heavy disdain, ’I’m going to put a bullet between your eyes you bastard. She viciously thought as her hand tightened dangerously against one of her pistols.

She was stunned for a moment at Kori’s smooth actions and grace; her calm was terrifying. Her heart beat a bit quicker as Gartian spoke about it being easy. Her muscles coiled as she prepared to launch into action.

Cyril giving their less than subtle signal she scurried up the Thumb after Alasa, giving no words or snark as her eyes glowed with their magic and her cross hairs zero’d in on the King’s head. It was just after the King had given his order to ‘kill them all’ that Alice gave a steady exhale and pulled the trigger with her target in her sights.

The next moments of Cyril telling them to cut down the H’kelan forces went unheard to her as she witness something she’d never seen in her life. Her bullet was dead set for Gartian but it never made it’s mark. Oh no, in fact it was stopped entirely. By a hand. By the hand of the Advisor to be precise. Alice’s body went numb for a moment as the Advisor didn’t even glance in their direction and simply flicked the bullet out of her palm as though it were an insect.

Then came the rage. ”THAT STUPID BITCH CAUGHT THE FUCKING BULLET! I’M GOING TO PUT A HOLE BETWEEN BOTH OF THEIR FUCKING EYES I SWEAR TO LINEA I FUCKIN WILL!” Her teeth ground as the muzzle of her rifle changed direction towards the front lines. ”No, fuck you fucking bastards! You’re all going to die today!” Instead of staying in her kneeling position, Alice dropped to her belly with her sites focused on several second line H’kelan soldiers until it was empty and there were bodies littering the inside of the enemy lines.

Then she changed her tactics entirely.

Rather than go for single she would use her multi shot, focusing carefully for a long moment as several locked on targets pulsed in her scope. She pulled the trigger and a hand full of them fell. Her mind jumped to the black magazine of the Power Bullets she had been giving. The same small voice from the night prior told her not yet- so she ignored it. However her white magazine was well within reach in case the time came that her comrades needed healing.

Her pausing in firing continued for a few more moments as more targets came into view.

And more fell with less than a head or a face.



To be quite frank after hearing the news of what was going on everything passed in a quiet blur. She was still dealing with the backlash of what had happened with Drosil, dealing with a vision full of emotions that weren’t her own and with old memories surfacing that she didn’t want to deal with.

So when it came time of them to keep traveling and camp and become ready for their strike the following day she spent it on the outskirts of their camp, fidgeting with the bracelets that would, as it currently seemed, never come off. The same things kept her calm but they made her feel anxious at the same time.

Would she need to use them? Would she need to prepare for the worst possible outcome? Would she another person she admire die?

No, she shoved that last thought out of her head and instead turned in early for a less than restful night of sleep.

The following morning came and Stark assisted where she could but she felt tense. Almost like the blood in her body was too much-too full. Her arms and hands pulsed and she’d found herself more than once giving a throaty growl. She’d never felt this before and she was less than happy with it but she would address it at another time when they weren’t about to go into battle.

Under her thick cloak her silver hair was plated back in a single long braid and she had each of her water skins filled to the brim strapped to her body. Of course she was able to summon water of her own but this was more efficient and overall easier to handle. She kept to the outer edge of their distanced group,knowing her attacks could get in the way of others when the assault began.

As Cyril gave the signal to begin their attack Stark discarded the cloak with little care and began her own attack. Her pupils thinned as her arms rose with her spell circles drawing immediate attention to herself while water formed in a circle around her with several tendril like arms waving to and fro and reacting to each of her movements.

Another throaty growl escaped from her as arms shot out and engulfed a handful of the closest H’kelan soliders-promptly stopping their breathing and leaving them to collapse on the ground having been drowned in a desert. Stark didn’t spare them another thought as her water recollected quickly back to her.

She’d taken a few steps backwards as another few soldier focused on her once more, this time her water shifting and swelling in size before a full body motion from Stark sent the literal wave of water forward and promptly soaking through several of the ranks.

She had planned on tearing away their armor but a stray elbow from one of the fights near her set her nose to a loud ‘crunch’ and liquid to begin pouring down her face.

With a sizeable curse she wiped the blood from under her nose with the back of her hand-regretting that immediately. The ever familiar tingling sensation grew across her arms as the blood from her nose that was on her was drawn immediately to her wrists where the stones would soak up the blood and send her into her shifted state.

A few of the soldiers balked at her change but it would be the last thing they did.

The sensation of feeling too full in her own skin came back as she bared her teeth at the soldiers and completed her actions from before; pushing her palms outward to cause the water under the armor of those who had come into contact with her wave to break and separate from their respective soldiers.

Many stumbled and some continued on as though it were normal-a few ever tried to put it back on but it was their own mistake.

Stark’s fingers curled viciously as her arms lowered and she launched forward at the closest unarmored soldier. Her body acted on instinct as she dipped under his arm cocking back and plunged an arm into the fleshy belly of the soldier.

He seemed stunned for a moment before screaming as Stark wiggled her blood soaked claw inside of the man before gripping whatever was there and yanking it out.

His sword dropped and he was simply being stepped over and she continued on with her attack.

At one point one of the soldiers had gotten close enough to the feral little beast; so much so that he had been able to get a downward swing on her and would have taken her arm clean off it those odd textured scales on her arm stop his effort.

Her left forearm bore the weight and pressure of the enemy's blade-silver steel against grey iridescent scales that seemed to flex under the blades touch as Stark reached up with her blood covered right hand and wrapped her hand around the blade and quite literally yanked the blade out of the soldiers hands.

In his moment of falling forward her left shot out and gripped his face as though it were a ball- her usually small hands were dwarfed compared to their sizable current state- and gave a quick squeeze. She felt a crack under her palm before dropping the man and continuing her work forward with a less than human look in her eyes.

Two more came at her with swords swinging but they were quickly taken down as the petite female swung both her arms out, abet with little proper form, and her claws opened up several slashes across their faces and necks. Her arms just getting redder and redder as she continued on into the mix of the unarmored soldiers with little more on lips than a guttural, ”Who’s next?”

During the calm before, the others prepared for what was to come. Dalious already felt to be in his prime, having put the hours of training in prior. He changed his wardrobe, taking off any of the red painted designs and chainmail from his black crested armor, and instead crafted a white hooded overcoat to blend in to enemy territory all the better. Before he put it all on, he had a tradition of his own to perform on his skin. He heated one of his finest throwing blades and used ink to create more tattoos on his right arm. His back had a large tribal tattoo of a compass, with various maps of the world within it, all adventures and treasures that told other stories for another time. Along his ribcage was a ship layout of the Sparrow, on his upper chest were some skulls and crossbones, while on his arms were dash markings grouped in fives, each indicated a person he has killed over the years. 22 in total currently, with his intent right now to add those he took out along with his current company. 9 more was to be added, not including those unkillable assassins back at the castle keep. Humming a soft tune to himself, he etched in the rest of his kills on his flesh and then moved on to his weapons.

His dragon designed katana blade had remained surprising sharp over the time spent, and other than his throwing knives equipped to his chest plate and his blunderbuss attached to his right hip holster, he added a few more smaller projectiles to his arsenal. Small and compact tiny bombs, each filled with black powder and a sprouted stem to them.

When he was finished with himself, he looked around to the others, observing some in prayer, others in more preparation, and the rest doing various other things to occupy their time. He pulled out a flask of whiskey and put it to his lips, pausing just before taking a sip. He shook his head and decided against it, putting the booze back away. He knew he had to be sharp these next coming hours, and decided to instead save it for the victory, should it come. If not, he had consumed his fill over his lifetime anyway.

He rose a curious eyebrow at Marco, who he felt should not had even been here. He knew the boy was a mage, though unlike Drosil, he had not seen anything from the kid that told him he was equipped for such a horrible thing as war. 'Poor kid's gonna get killed' he thought to himself, then made his way over.

"I hope you're ready, lad," he said. He handed him over a handful of tiny bombs, just in case. "Just be sure not to be around these when they are lit."

He then moved past Marco and over to the intimidating sentinels, approaching his favorite of them all, Gortul. He simply offered the warrior a tap on the shoulder and a nod, telling him that whatever happens, it has been an honor fighting alongside him, with no words spoken at all.

When they reached the temple, Dalious broke out into the crowd upon the prince's orders. He slowly edged his way forward, moving from person to person, while smoking a cigarette. He made his way into the center of a few of the H'kelan forces, a good distance away from the stage. There, he stood still and watched on as Gartian screamed across the area, ready to kill the prisoner.

"Kill her!!" the man behind him shouted.

Dalious was about to yell something similar, all in playing the part, but he caught a glimpse of something he had not expected to. There, off to one end of the platform, he saw a dwarf mercenary, smoking a fat cigar and watching on with arms crossed. It was no ordinary dwarf however, as it was one he once knew. Grefolin, the same bastard that betrayed him long ago, which led to Dalious being captured and nearly hung! His eyes narrowed at the sight of the dwarf and his fist clenched, but before he could think anymore of it, Gartian quickly moved to attempt in killing the prisoner and Cyril gave the word to attack.

Dalious lit multiple tiny bombs at once, quickly tossing each of them into those in front of him's pockets. The man behind him noticed, and he grabbed Dalious' shoulder, though the pirate used his hand as a prop, twisting it and breaking it. The pirate, whilst still holding the man's arm, did a back flip over him, then kicked him toward the others.

BOOM!

The bombs went off, with their explosive radius being the area of a singular person. Every H'kelan in front of Dalious errupted in a red cloud of blood, and the power of the impact shot everyone else, including the pirate, backward and onto their asses. Dalious shook off the cobwebs and stood, seeing the mutilated remains all around him, with his face and armor already soaked in blood from head to toe.

"Of all the blooming bad ideas I've had..." he started, but was on the defensive nearly immediately.

Three H'kelan's thrust forward on him. He backpedaled and unsheathed his katana, blocking each strike they gave. When he found his footing again, he went on the attack, though not running straight at them as they did him. He moved from the sides, being elusive and fast, cutting the three men down with relative ease and speed. More blood splattered across his face as his vision picked up the dwarf again, off a few feet from him, with many in the way of.

His eyes turned feral, and much like the beast like mode Stark was in, he went on a killing spree. Men flew across from all sides as Stark made a path for him, he cleaned up those she had missed in her rampage. Hacking off ones head, he shot the next one rushing in down with a quick hip shot from his blunderbuss, which fired the attacker backward at a quicker pace than he was running in with. Dalious rolled under another attack, sticking his katana deep into the stomach of his next foe, while Alice topped off the dome of the H'kelan he had rolled past.

Grefolin, the dwarf, was leaving a blood trail behind himself as well. It wasn't long before the two came face to face, a pile of bodies at either side of them both. The dwarf paused at the sight of him, even covered in all that blood, he recognized the man he betrayed. The large dwarf cracked his neck, flipping his two double sided axes into a stance.

"Well, well, bloody fucking well," Grefolin said, as a circluar space became open for the two. The dwarf spat someone elses blood from his mouth, a good portion of it stuck in his thick brown beard. "Dalious Durendail, I was assured you were dead. I should have figured you weren't, you were always the persistent fuck. Given the situation...I'm glad to see you, old pal."

"Well, I aim to please," the pirate responded. "Mercenary work suits you."

"As it does you," Grefolin said. "Though, I hate to inform you, you chose the wrong side."

"I don't know, we do have a massive centipede called Sir-Mauls-Alot," Dalious jested. "I also know that Captain Thorpe has the Sparrow, which makes you a horrible backstabber."

The dwarf let out a heartful laugh. "Did you really think I betrayed you for that water bucket piece of shite? I betrayed you for the money, Dal. That ship of yours was useless."

"You take that back!" Dalious called.

"I always wanted to prove I was better than you. I'll be keeping your head as a trophy."

"Come get some."

The two engaged. Grefolin charged around like a rolling boulder, his axes swinging wildly like a tornado. Dalious swiftly rolled under an attack, side stepped another, and swayed away from the next. His katana clinged against the hard steel of the axes, back and forth for a while. A few other H'kelans jumped into the fight, while taking Dalious' focus away from the dwarf momentarily. The pirate ducked and dodged, then struck as quick as a cobra, stabbing one soldier in the throat, while turning his blade back to block another death blow.

Another random sniper's bullet came wizzing past Dalious' head to strike another H'Kelan down. Dalious turned to look up toward Alice, though he couldn't see her he knew she was around somewhere. He patted his hair and gave out an angered look to wherever she was. "Are you mad, woman!!" he shouted, even though he knew she was spot on with her targets, she had almost hit his golden hair.

Grefolin took the moment to charge in yet again, though Dalious blocked the axe swing, the dwarf managed to shoulder push the pirate to the ground. He stood over him and rasied his axe high, bringing it down with enough force to crack the ground, as Dalious rolled aside, kipping up to his feet.

"You've gotten faster, I'll give you that," Grefolin said, charging yet again.

"And you are much fatter, mind you," Dalious said with a laugh that turned into a serious face as he barely swayed away from the strike again.

He rolled past his enemy, pushing against him as he did in order to create more distance between them. Grefolin turned back toward him and raised his weapons once more.

"You don't even fight like a pirate anymore," Grefolin spoke.

"...wait for it,"

It took the dwarf a second to hear the fuse burning. His confused look turned into panic as he reached into his holsters, attempting to find the tiny bomb.

"CHEATER!!" the dwarf shouted.

"You were always one to blow things out of proportion, mate," Dalious said, then quickly rolled again as Grefolin exploded amongst the battle field.

Dalious wiped blood from his face as he realized he was much further away from the target. People were fighting all around him, with arrows wizzing by here and there. Another enemy ran at him, though he quickly side stepped with an upstroke of his blade, splitting the man's chest open and spraying even more blood on his once cotton white clean wardrobe.

"Forty-two..." he counted.

All things considered, he had been expecting a warmer welcome. The ambassador—no, that wouldn’t do anymore—the heir didn’t want some grand parade or a soiree for his return, nor did he expect fireworks or a string quartet, but at least a greeting by his family would have been nice. Instead, the only familiar face he saw was the one of his father’s steward, who coldly told him to wait for Lord Dedrick Cade in his study like a common businessman. Too tired by his travels to make a fuss, Ennis took a seat in the leather chair facing the much larger, emptier one across the desk from him. There he fidgeted nervously, trying to think of how he’d convince his father to have his men join forces with the Barceans and Guratans against Gartian. Certainly, more impossible tasks had been accomplished before.

Ennis heard footsteps and stood, turning in time to see his father arrival. Lord Cade had his son’s face and height but not his build. While Ennis could barely lift his sword without straining himself, even in his sixties Lord Cade still looked like he could best most men and even a few Divineborn in a fight. Looking again, however, Ennis could see the slow gait in his walk and the exhaustion in his eyes, and his hair had greyed significantly since the last time the two had spoken and had receded so aggressively that it looked like a bird’s beak and two wings. To make up for the lack of hair on the top of his head, the man had taken to growing plenty on the bottom. Ennis took a step forward and held out his hand; the old man was having none of that. Reaching forward, he pulled his son into his arms and gave him a strong hug, patting him twice on the back with both hands.

“What, they didn’t feed you down there?” said Dedrick, pulling himself back from his son as if to fully take him in again.

“It’s good to see you too, father.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe it, son,” he said, taking a seat at his desk. He gestured for Ennis to do the same. “I heard quite a few rumors about you growing friendly with those Serio brats and was worried that perhaps our King had heard the same. For once I am glad that he has deaf ears, otherwise I feared you may not have been able to make it home so easily.”

“Y-yes,” said Ennis, nervously glancing at the desk. Everything upon it was neatly sorted and organized, with not a single paper out of place. He swallowed hard, and then began to spin his yarn. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Before I returned home, I had a chat with the Queen. She had any interesting proposition for me, well, for us.” He decided it would be easier if he made it sound like it wasn’t his idea; at least not until he could get a read on his father. “She called it a way to broker a prosperous peace between H’kela and Barcea. An alliance of sorts, if you will.”

Something in that statement struck the elder Cade as amusing, causing him to hoot and slam his fist on his desk. Ennis was able to muster a slight, uncomfortable smile as his father continued to laugh and shake his head, incredulously. “So she was like her father after all: unable to accept defeat.”

“Defeat?” said Ennis.

A smirk lined Dedrick’s lips. “Barcea lost. The Queen surrendered herself the other day to protect their city. An admirable, if naive, sacrifice. But surely this is not news to you, because I cannot see why you would want to talk about this amusing anecdote otherwise. Surely, it would be unwise to even suggest that you gave consideration to an alliance between our families. Why, it would almost be as stupid as admitting that you had willingly suggested the idea in the first place.”

“What?” asked Ennis, caught off guard by the clear implications of his father’s words. If he wasn’t certain of what his father was saying, he didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Dedrick dropped the smoke and mirrors right there.

“Don’t try to play the fool with me, boy. Who do you think taught you that trick?” he said, standing up and putting his hands on the desk, his shadow looming over Ennis. “You think I don’t know what my own son has been up to? You think I won’t make sure that my heir doesn’t get himself killed because he was embarrassed once by his King? His King, mind you, that his father has sworn loyalty to, just as the Cades have always sworn loyalty to?”

“You were spying on me?”

“I was keeping you safe, boy,” said Dedrick, glaring down at his son, “from your own stupidity and from the talons of that Queen you so admired. Do you know what it would have done to our family, to our legacy, if word got out that you had been colluding with the enemy? If Yan and Nia hadn’t been there the Kirun would have been in flames. We both would have been hung. Is that what you want, boy?”

“No. I just thought—”

“You didn’t think. It’s not your job to think. Your job is to shut the hell up, produce a male heir, and to respect your father. Our time will come, boy, but not yet. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, father,” said Ennis softly as he sunk down in his chair, feeling as if he was a child being scolded for breaking a vase.

“Excellent. Until things have settled and I can see that you’ve come to your senses, I will not permit you to leave the premises. I had Danners make up your room for you; you are dismissed.” With that, Ennis stood from his chair as if he was a puppet being drawn by strings and made his way to the door. His hand had hardly grabbed the handle when Dedrick called out to him: “Oh, just one more thing.”

Ennis turned back, trying to avoid his father’s gaze.

“Welcome home, son.”



Yet again a spell of silence had fallen over Vesta once Cyril broke the news about their Queen’s capture. She seemed calm on the surface as they headed into H’kela, but underneath she was a thunderstorm of anger. As they rode, she killed the time by passing judgment on the others, although mostly her eyes just casted accusations on Krissandria for failing in her duty to protect the Queen. If Olain’s daughter had been harmed by Gartian in anyway, or if she had been k—she felt herself bitedown on her lip, using the pain to distract her from the potential reality. Too many times did she picture what she would do to the Queen’s Guard if they didn’t reach Kori in times. It was hypocritical, considering her own failure years ago, but she couldn’t help herself nevertheless. They were to blame.

No, Gartian is to blame, said a tiny voice inside of her head, and it was this little voice that she forced herself to listen to, yet only when she witnessed that the Queen was still alive did she truly divorce the idea of seeking some form of retribution from Krissandria.

She was unable to enjoy the feeling of being able to freely walk again as she pushed herself through the crowd, desperately trying to get as close as possible to the scaffold. For every rib she elbowed and boot she stepped on the favor was returned right back to her by a H’kelan, eager for the blood of their enemy. It was easy to think of them as monsters, despite knowing deep down that if the roles had been reversed and if Gartian had been up in the block a similarly large crowd would’ve formed in Barcea as well, even if their new Queen seemed to be done with the barbaric way of the old. Yet as Alasa let his arrows fly and they pierced the executioner, the crowd changed back into a mass of humans that, upon witnessing the death of one of their own, fled in horror. And then, it was just two groups of soldiers, us and them.

Vesta dropped her cloak—it was too damn warm for that thing anyway—and drew her sword. She knew that the Lady of Demons had told her not to put too much strain on her knee, but she also knew that she was still better with a blade than she’d ever be with a bow. Besides, a trial by fire would be the perfect way to see just how much of her old movement she had retained. Running (Running!) at the first soldier in yellow that she could see, the woman had already slashed her sword across his side before he could even raise his weapon to thwart her. When was the last time she had been able to close a gap like that? She couldn’t remember.

She felt her vision shift from the execution block to temple balcony and then back to the block again. Their snipers would be able to keep their enemies off of Kori for the time being, but it was still imperative that they saved Kori before going after Gartian. How long until one of their watchful eyes missed a crossbowmen that had his sights trained on their Queen? But the way to the Queen was behind a sea of angry yellow and sharp steel, dotted with splashes of explosives, bursts of magic, and peppering of barrages from her side. It wouldn’t be easy for Vesta to reach alone, even if she was more whole than before, but even if it turned out to be impossible it didn’t matter to her; she had to save Kori.

Her sword bite into another soldier as she smacked a spear to her side with her scabbard before she dropped low to avoid a broad slash and then drove upwards with a mighty slash. No pain in her knee yet; she could feel a smile form on her face as she sprung to the side of a hammerblow. She ripped and tore into the enemy soldiers with her blade, twisting and turning her body like a dancer to avoid getting opened up herself. Slice, turn, stab, duck, cut, spin, sweep, gut; the routine continued on uninterrupted, each step as fluid and practiced as it had been decades ago. Yet she could still hear her breaths get more ragged, could still feel her arms get heavier with every swing. Karin may have cured her knee, but she couldn’t cure the damage of time.

The Queen, the Queen, she thought as she urged herself onward.

Drosil Maeneld

The days leading up to the queen's rescue were, for Drosil at least, a blur of training and silence. He kept to himself the entire way, but one could feel an intense feeling of anger radiating off of him the entire way, as if he could barely contain his fury. Now this might leave most confused, as while they akk knew the Queen, he numbered among those where meetings were rather sparse. The reason for this anger was simple: He needed to vent.

A lot of things had happened to him in the past month and while he acted fine afterwards, in truth, he was feeling run ragged emotionally and physically by these events, which had only scaled up as the journey went on, culminating in his death at the hands of his phoenix and the subsequent revival. It was a jarring experience made even worse by the hallucination(or vision) that had come afterwards. So when, after everything that happened, he found out that the Mad King had captured the Queen. . . something inside of his mind snapped. Every emotion he felt in his current muddle state shifted into an intense and focused fury. It was just easy, so much easier than trying to thing of what he'd been through. Now, he just had to worry about which pose he'd have Gartian take before he made him into a human icicle.

The day before the Queen's execution would find Drosil spend the entire day in what appeared to be silent meditation amongst a myriad of magic circles drawn in the dirt. In actuality, he was conversing with the spirits of the land. It was an old spell of protection he discovered in some old ruins, but had never used due to him fearing that he'd lack the control to hold them in the midst of battle, Now the thought didn't even enter his mind, not because of the rod, but because in his current state it wasn't even worthy of attention. He had never been more focused on anything else in his life, save for his Grand Ambition. As he formed his pact with the spirits of H'kela's land, one could see that his form would seem to shimmer and shine out of the corner of their eyes, with those in-tune with magic noticing that the shine was coming off a clinging mass of silvery energy that pulsated and breathed as if it were alive. This would be his armor in the heat of battle, and it would be highly unlikely for any normal blade to be able to break through it, though in truth, mortal men were the least of Drosil's worries.

Before I can get to Gartian, I'll probably have to get around her, since I doubt she's done using the mad man as he figurehead yet.

Drosil wondered what the Advisor would do when the Prince and his party stormed the Temple, for he doubted that she wouldn't be present for such a matter. He also wondered how he would get around her as well, for she was someone who was far above him in terms of both power and skill, the attack on the palace that had forced them to flee had more than proven that fact. As the day shifted to night and sleep began to tug on his mind, Drosil simply decided that he'd focus on assisting the others in getting the Queen to safety and take any chance he might have at ending Gartian's pathetic life right then and there.

---

The day of the execution, while the others seemed ready to charge headlong into the fight from their respective positions, Drosil held back, his eyes glowing harshly from the shadows of his cloak as he muttered arcane incantations, his hushed tones in contrasts to the frenzied screams of the many civilians trying to get away from the ensuing carnage. As his chant came to an end, however, he would make his presence known in a very big way to those locked in combat with his fellows. From around his feet would race forth a number of lines of fire, rushing in zigzaging lines around most of the combatants before they quickly formed in a circle around one poor soul in the center of the enemy formation. With a might Fwoosh the man would be encased in a pillar of flames, his screams of pain and agony as the metal from his armor began to melt into his sizzling flesh being mercifully short, but unnerving, to his fellows.

However, the man would not be alone in his pain, as the flames that had killed him soon took the form of a rather large snake, it's eyes violet pits of malice and rage as it looked down upon them all, before soon condensing it's form into one closer to that of a Python, wrapping itself around the neck of one solider. Seconds later, the man would fall to the ground, all that was left of his neck being his charred spine, which would soon break under the weight of his head. And thus would be the trend as the fire elemental began to slip and slide through the battlefield, killing a soldier every now and then, but mainly focusing on harassing and disabling by coiling around legs, arms, and the like. It's somewhat small stature and surprising speed also made it quite difficult to hit with a blade as well, as it was quick to evade most attacks that managed to be turned it's way.

While this was going on, Drosil would be quick to enter the battle alongside Stark as she went on her rampage. One soldier, upon seeing him approach, attempted to cut him down before he could utter a word. However, Drosil was able to catch the blade with his palm, the silvery energy of the spirit's flashing into view at the point of impact as he quickly gripped it, holding the man in place as he suddenly step forward, slamming his other palm into the man's chest. From the other side of the man would come a quick burst of white and blue flames as it tore through his chest cavity, killing him instantly. The soldier would drop lifeless to the floor, and Drosil would stand over him, his other hand now covered in a large malestrom of Icenfire shaped into a blade-like form. Walking forward, he would quickly begin to slice and slash at the unarmored figures that Stark had left for them to attack, making short work of each of them as he began to push with the others through the mass of soldiers, all of them trying their hardest to get to the Queen before anything could happen to her.

From the moment that Kori had sent her away, to this moment had been nothing but a blur for the Queen's guard. She still hadn't slept much; though had agreed to eat more when they stopped on their way at night. It was clear that she was stressed, if not only from the darkening circles around her eyes but the way she carried herself. Her posture normally perfect, she was slightly slouched or found herself leaning on one leg or the other... When the H'kelan King made his appearance, Krissandria was ready to attack, though kept her head.

Of everyone there, Krissandria felt as though her urge to run forward was second only to the Prince's. She stood patiently, however, as the situation unfolded before them. As soon as Kori was visible, her jaw clenched, brow furrowed, teeth gritting slightly. The adrenaline already starting to pump through her. This was what made her burst forth so fast as soon as the word was given. Axe pulled from her back, it swung with none of it's usual flourish. The first H'kelan that came her way was an unfortunate soul, quick to drop with no arms and a slash cross their chest.

Eyes were filled with nothingness. Her mercy had left, and while her sense had not, she still allowed her emotion to drive her actions, axe swinging wildly, knocking people it didn't hit with the blade, to the side with enough force to take even those with the widest, lowest stances off their feet. The pointed end finding it's way into one opponent's chest, vaulting herself over them and onto another's shoulders where she quickly kicked their head to the side with a satisfying snap. As their body dropped she hopped to the ground herself. She was a known threat now, and it was made clear they thought so when she was surrounded. This is when the flourishing seemed to come back; twirling the pole-arm around herself to deflect hits with minimal effort, but when she caught the handle in both hands again to slash forward into another, she felt a hard hit at her back, sending her to her knees. Attacks came at her in the moment of vulnerability, yet escaping with the luck of her cloak being the only thing hit, she unfastened her clip from it allowing it to fall away from her body.

Rolling along the ground a moment to dodge she was quickly back to her feet, hitting the soldiers against them in a row keeping the distance of her weapon between herself and her targets, making sure the blade hit. If they dodged it with a step back she was sure to lunge forward hitting them with the spiked end rather than axe blade, and continued on. As they fell, her eyes fell upon Kori, her previously dead eyes welling with love, determination and perhaps a hint of fear. The pause was not long, and soon enough she found her weapon being swung about once more, moving ever closer to her destination...
'Don't worry... I'm coming..!'

---

On the other side of things; we have Thuraya. While normally she'd jump at the opportunity to show off her strength; especially with the new powers she'd received from Karin, her mind was more-so to protect what once was her home. Not the King or his men, but the civilians who had come to this place. While the others charged in, the scorpionfolk found herself keeping her hood up, motioning to a group of men and women, to move now.

They followed her, and she lead them out of harm's way before she made her way back into the battle. Sword pulled out from under her cloak and was risen to hit against a H'kelan's blade. Emerald eyes gazing out from the shadow of her hood, snarling slightly. ”Choose your opponents wisely.” she said softly, holding the man's blade there as she motioned for another group to leave. ”I'm feeling nice today...” she said, tone not changing from it's gentle tone as she let her eyes close, hitting the man back a bit with her foot, sending him staggering back. ”So I won't kill you.” her blade turned and went into the ground between them, and she muttered the words ”Shield him.” which made the rocky prison appear. She'd burrowed her way out of many, but she wasn't here to kill. She was here to help save; the only head she wanted was Gartian's, but for now, her efforts were best left to the saving. Sure, it wasn't the Barcean Queen she was actively helping... but in a sense these were still people of her lands. While considering herself often a Guratan, Thuraya could not ignore the fact that these people were innocents from her homeland. Even if it hadn't been much of a home to her, they'd done nothing to her, or anyone she fought for.

---

Sleep did not come to the boy those nights, nor would he rest easy ever after this for years to come.

He had spent most of the day before their hard march in private. from mending his hand to continued studies on this gift he had received from the lady of the house. It kept his attention and raised more questions than answers. Instead of bother another with his seemingly endless questions, he made his way to the library again. He didn't need any guidance this time, his mind was set on what he wished to learn.

"Lady Renata didn't seem to mind if I read from her collection. I wonder if she will mind if I take some tomes with us." He paused for a second as he reached for a book. "Us?", he asked briefly before shrugging the notion off. It was strange that he choose that word, though perhaps he was just tired from the recent blood loss.

It took some time to track down the tomes that he desired, though he did not know if they were the correct tomes to begin with. By the time he left the library, he was carrying a stack of tomes as tall as he was. He was forced to use his telekinetic magic in favorite of his physical strength being sub-par. He had answers that he needed to find on his own.

He had not seen battle in his life. Until the raid upon his new found him within the sturdy walls of Castle Barcea, he had lived much in peace. He worked as a simple farm hand in his father's shadow long before realizing his natural talent. Often at times he wasn't sure if he was gifted by the divine or cursed in some cruel manner. With the loss of his parents, he was alone in this world. His master all but abandoned him and now the women responsible for his care was in danger.

Marco was shocked by the news delivered by the elvish trio, but then he became enraged. He had lost too much to just stand aside now. If Queen Kori was willing to sacrifice herself for the good of her people, it was then the people's duty to give themselves for her. He would need to leave most of his belongings behind, except of course for the dagger he aquired and his own personal tome. He needed to ride light to keep up with the others, seeing as he rode a small pony compared to their horses. He felt himself tire as they rode through the night back toward the capitol, back towards the fray once more. There wasn't much he could do to complain, the others were just as worried as he was if not more to be honest. He didn't want to hold them back, or think about what would happen if they were too late. He could not dare sleep, instead insisting to just practice his spells in silence. The tone of their group was grim indeed. He suspected that many would perish before this was over.

He found rest where he could, from the back of his saddle to their small camp where no one dare to light a fire. He was cold, sore, and irritable... no different than anyone else he was certain. His only solace to the situation was the fact that he still had coffee. While studying in his free time, he discovered a recipe for the delicious beverage that could be brewed with cold water. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but beggars shouldn't be choosers.

As others came back to the group, with news of where their Queen was being held, Marco mentally prepared himself for the worse. He got some of the rest that he was missing, for his mind finally quieted the storm of thoughts that assaulted him. The others would rise him for when danger came their way. He slept for most of the day and long into the evening. He rose just before dawn, though he remained quiet as he laid on the cold ground. "Today is the day, Divine watch over us..." he muttered to himself as rose to brew what was hopefully not his last pot of coffee.

---

Despite everything, Jinn was all whimsical lyrics and hearty tunes. He kept to himself as everyone got themselves ready for what was coming next. Warriors inspected equipment, honed edges, and steeled themselves for the slaughter. The faithful prayed to whatever Divine would hear them, and perhaps to those that wouldn't as well. Jinn, however, did neither. Instead of checking his bullet count for the Nth time, he whistled as he rolled up some of his smoking leaves. The anticipation of it all put everyone on edge and it was pissing him off. 'I mean come on, it is almost like everyone anyone can die. To be fair, we don't know if she doesn't have something inside of her that could kill her any other day. We might as well walk in here and prepare for the worst while hoping for the best,' he thought to himself as he slid his tongue to seal the wrap. "Wow, that was fucked up... even for me."

He didn't get far into his smoke session before it was time for them all to move on. He was in a haze through the entire process, so he didn't exactly pay attention to what was going on. Why was he here again? Last thing he remembered was being waist deep in poon, drenched from head to toe. It would be a glorious day, why would he ever leave that behind...? Fuck if he had it his way, he would be back in Jasi with his son trying to make it big n his own. Fuck his father for trying to limit his growth in just Barcea of all places. Like, yeah it is a fun country. It was green, which is nice, but where were the bitches?! Everyone woman he had meet here was either a prune or married and a prune. Not like those Jasian's though. They knew how to party!

He was slow to react as the others answered the Prince's call. As everyone sprang into action, Jinn yawned and began to look around him. Between all the screams of terror, bark of orders, and explosions, Jinn found himself quietly mumbling to himself about something other another. He was in a stupor and it felt nice, he didn't want to leave it behind... until a arrow whizzed past and sliced through half of his air.

He let out a primal roar, swearing every Divine on the list, before drawing his pistols and pulling the trigger. The chamber flashed brightly before a burst of his magical talent went flying forward. It pierced through armor and flesh alike, leaving smoking holes in the bullets' wake. "Oh right, that is why I am here! Don't worry guys! I remember now!" The high he felt faded with the pain he felt, glaringly clarity replacing quickly. His body count quickly climbed as he gunned down anyone who dared moved forward to stop him. Around his tenth kill, his right pistol jammed. Cursing his luck, Jinn dropped both firearms and went for more direct forms of fisticuffs. He quickly sidestepped spear tips and launched a devastation right hook. The ground jerked and shot forward with his fist, a large rock flying towards the crowd that blocked their path. Runes on the back of his gloves burned as he tapped into his magical talent. His smirk returned as he hopped from foot to foot, taking up a boxer stance. He cobbled foes left and right, shattering ribs and skulls with each lobbed punch.

---

'Oh Divine, this is insanity!' Marco thought to himself as everything suddenly exploded into motion. He thought he had the gall to fight through this. He thought that he could be a warrior like the others. He wasn't strong, he wasn't able to fight this war. The boy found himself stepping backwards in fear, trying to run away. He stumbled over a fallen body, he wasn't sure if it was a civilian or not. He felt tears well up as his vision blurred. He tried to blink them away as he wanted to find his footing beneath him. He turned as someone screamed bloody murder in his general direction. He watched the man armed with a vibrant axe charge forward, fury clear on his face. "NO! PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!", he shrieked in fear and threw up his hands. A barrier appeared around his body to protect him, his magic surging through his body. He wasn't sure of how long he could keep this up. Each blow this mad man struck sent crashing waves against his mind, already he was growing weak.

Thuraya's gaze turned from their place on the civilians fleeing, upon hearing the younger male's voice. Tail coiled and quickly she made her way to his side. A battle cry of her own letting loose as her sword dragged along the ground for a moment, the word "up" leaving her as she flung the sword from it's place in the earth upward, a short pillar came between Marco and the man wailing on his shield. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size!" she yelled, before her sword crashed through the earthen pillar she'd made, scattering the rocks as bombardment against the other. "Marco! Are you alright?" she asked, gaze shifting down to him only for a moment before back to the man. He came again, but quickly she crouched, thrusting her tail into him; veins revealing themselves quickly across what skin they could see, and he fell, her tail coming back, still dripping with venom. Sigh sighed softly, holding a hand to the young magician, a small smile coming across her lips. "Can you stand?"

He sniffled and took her hand, the shield fading at the same time. "I-i should, yes. I-i'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any troubles, I don't want to be a burden... but I-i-i don't know if I can do this, Thuraya. I am not a warrior, I am a scholar by nature. I should be fighting a inkwell open, not ripping a man's chest open!!" He felt tears forming again as he body shook and trembled. He almost fell to his knees, defeated before the battle even began. He stared at the body of the man that assaulted him briefly before he looked around to the chaos around him. "How could I survive in this hell?"

Simply, the scorpionfolk looked at him. Her expression becoming more kind as she let her hand's grasp tighten around his slightly. "No one is making you fight... If you can't, you can't. It's not your fault; here.. come with me, you can help me get those not tied to this battle, to safety."

He felt a small smile come to his face, a hand coming up to wipe away tears that still cling to his cheeks. "S-sure. Sure. Fine, thank you. It will be better this way, I am certain." He didn't let go of her hand as he steady his stance. He followed after her, his hand pressed against his heart. It felt pained as if it was going to try and burst from his chest. He would do what he needed to do, even if it was just helping to get everyone innocent to get away freely.

H'kela

While the desperation was clear within many in the group to save the Queen, it would have been easily argued that Cyril was the one most desperate to reach her. Almost before he finished yelling his order he was leaping forwards, falling upon three H'kelan soldiers at once. It was more than just a reckless decision, as any normal soldier would have been quickly killed, but the adrenaline brought on by his sheer desperation brought such a strength upon Cyril that he was practically a whirlwind, escaping with barely more than a cut on his cheek and leaving three carved bodies behind as he went on to the next. With such movements though, it was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, and that came sooner rather than later.

The soldier approached him from many of his blind sides, thanks to the Prince's tunnel vision focused upon the Queen. It would have been easy for the man to thrust the spear he held deep into the Prince's side, ending his life and breaking the back of this rescue attempt in the same moment. It would have been easy, and the man would have been a H'kelan hero; however, he never got a chance. The Prince and his surroundings were being watched, and as soon as the danger was detected the watcher fell upon the man with a spear. Just as the H'kelan approached Cyril from a blind side, the soldier was approached from his own blind side, and the one who approached him did so much faster than he was able to reach the Prince.

The H'kelan died instantly, the blade that was stabbed through his neck from the side severing his spine completely. When the blade was drawn away the man was allowed to fall, crumpling at the feet of the Direwolf. Cyril was not aware of what he had been saved from, his focus only on the next man in front of him, but the red-headed warrior simply continued to watch him as the Prince continued on. A fool tried to attack him from the side, and without even looking the Direwolf flicked his blade up, sending the H'kelans flying before he stabbed him through the left eye, and out the back of the skull. The entire time his focus was on the Prince, watching for what danger might be approaching next.

Nearby, the "son" of the Lady of the Abyss was being bogged down. Fighting with his fists, electric as his gauntlets were, placed him at a disadvantage in this situation, thrust in the middle of a hostile force without being able to approach them on his own terms, and draw them out. Though he had broken enough bones with his first few hits to leave several H'kelans on the ground, this weakness was eventualy taken advantage of, and the young man surrounded by enemies with raised shields and weapons poking at him from all directions. It was more than a little frustrating as he had to dodge back and forth in the small area, every weapon he broke being almost instantly replaced by another. More than once he was stabbed deeply, the stagger that came afterwards causing him to be hit even more, only to wrench away and begin healing from all of the wounds, slowly but surely.

"YOU COWARDLY COCK-SUCKING MOTHERFUCKERS-!"

"I know you can take a hit, my foul-mouthed friend, but that doesn't mean you should!" The heavily-accented words were somehow easily heard even as several H'kelans screamed as they were flung to the sides with blows that seemed more blunt that sharp, despite the axe that was swung back and forth to clear the path. Even as Christopher stumbled back once again, Gortul was stepping aside, and Sampson rushed forwards with his shield raised. Past Christopher he went, crashing into the opposite side of the circle, and in a matter of seconds the circle was crumbling away.

Bleeding profusely from several wounds, Christopher took one staggering step before shaking his head, but before he could follow after the already advancing Sentinels he took a blow to the side of the head. It nearly sent him down, but before he could fall over a hand was grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, keeping him upright before Diane released him to begin healing him. "Just because you Divine-powered can recover from a hit doesn't mean you have to throw yourself into the stupidest of situations. Be careful or I'm going to cut your ankles next time so you'll have a second to cool off."

Diane's only response was an extended middle finger, and off Christopher went. While Diane just gave a humph and brushed her hair back some, one H'kelan left over from the circle that had enclosed Christopher yelled as he brought an axe up as he ran full speed towards her. Her gaze, however, was surprisingly cool when she looked to him, and for good reason; in the next second an arrow suddenly appeared in the side of his neck, him tumbling forwards from his run. Giving a general nod in crumbled stone finger's direction, Diane continued after those who were keeping things relatively clear for her.

As all of those upon the Barcean side continued forwards, those who had clearer heads in the middle of battle would realize that the enemy line seemed to be clearing the deeper in they went. This shouldn't have been the case, and yet it was; as they fought H'kelans, it was often over and around already injured H'kelans, left groaning and barely conscious on the ground. They had Joachim to thank for that; back and forth the entire line the smaller man went, his blade flashing back and forth to cut through the tendons necessary for a man to stand or hold his weapon. Try as they might to stop him, he was much too fast; he was often there before anyone could realize, and gone before anyone could have drawn a weapon if they still had the ability to do so.

Meanwhile, the Paladin wasn't as quite as merciful as the Phantasm, with all the irony that included. With his hammers he crushed armor and shattered skulls, leaving men behind to scream in their bloody and painful death throes as the colossus moved onto his next victim. It mattered not that he received blows that would have brought others low, if not killing him instantly; a sword through the heart did little to slow him, and the spear that ended up through his skull was simply wrenched out and cast aside even as the man who had committed such a transgression was crushed to the earth, with yet another, "Praise be!"

These crushed bodies laid among the injured left behind with the Phantasm, and both of those kinds laid with carved pieces of meat. The arms severed had been removed with surprisingly clean cuts, and the legs that laid separated from the bodies had been removed with an almost surgical precision. It wasn't the work of any sort of blade, knife or otherwise, but Calypso had the new tools to make it happen. Though she still had trouble with them sometimes, her finger tips bleeding freely, she drew the ten wires back and forth with graceful movements. They hissed lightly as they sliced through the air, and upon reaching any sort of metal, be it weapon or armor alike, there was a screech as the metal was carved to pieces; this was followed by screams, as flesh and bone so much weaker than steel was sheared through as if they were paper.

It was through the efforts of them all that they were able to push the H'kelan line back, so many there were and so tightly they were packed together, and how well they were prepared. Step by step, strike by strike they made their way towards the scaffold, one H'kelan left behind at a time. As it became clear they were driving closer to the Queen, she began to rise, eyes slightly widened...

And, up above, a madness that was yet unseen came over Gartian's grin, it stretching so far it seemed like it might tear through his own face. "Do it now."

In that moment the Advisor threw both of her hands up, palms facing upwards with her fingers curled. With that motion the very earth began to rumble. Down below, Sentinels and H'kelans alike were sent staggered, and in some cases off their feet entirely. The Prince himself fell down to one knee, looking up with a surprised expression at first to Gartian and the Advisor, then Kori, and then the ground itself as, in the space between himself and the scaffold, a large section of the ground began to swell upwards violently.

"What the H-?"

Before he could quite finish his exclamation, the earth erupted and his words were lost under the explosion of noise, and the sounds of screams as H'kelans were sent flying. Fine sand shot upwards with heavy chunks of dirt and rock as the rough hole, no less than fifty meters wide was ripped open by a massive arm. The arm was unlike anything the Prince had ever seen, long enough to stretch high up into the air, above that of the temple itself, and it was only as the rest of the body began to pull itself from the ground that he only began to realize what he was looking at.

The thing wasn't just one creature, but an amalgamation of horror. It had no skin, and at first seemed to be only made of bone; however, as it began to lift its upper half from the hole, sliding itself along the ground as its lower half began to emerge, something akin to sickly black muscle started to slither from the joints, catching the bones that had already begun to fall and hold everything in place. It was not something long dead, but made of the dead; bones from humans were put together with beasts, and those of the beast range from things they knew, like horses, to the exotic like tigers, but for the most part it was made of bones of something that had long, long ago gone distinct.

The monstrosity had three heads, each as large as an inn, or a large house. The middle head was probably the skull of a dragon, triangular in shape, sharply edged and with plenty of spikes coming from the back. The second head, on the left, was that of a snake, and it was already actively waving back and forth, seemingly to survey the scene with its eyeless sockets. The one on the right, however, was unlike anything he had ever seen; it had ridges, as if it had been crushed and then healed once again, but the only cracks within it had come from years of decay. The head of the snake and dragon extended from their own misshapen torsos that coiled around each other and eventually fused together, but the strange right head was fused into the shoulder of the middle.

Its second half was just as misshapen as the first. It was like there was yet another torso set beneath the first, before it broke out into six legs that bent at odd angles. At closer looks upon the arms and legs, it became apparent that this is where the concentration of the smaller bones were the most, especially along the fingers and wrists. Torsos of men, horses, and other beasts alike were fused together unnaturally to create the shapes.

The stench of death hung heavily in the air, and it was that smell that Cyril choked on more than he did the thick sand and dirt. He slowly began to stand, hand gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles went white. His arm trembled slightly as he looked up to the massive thing. It did not return his gaze, instead looking out over them all, one head watching the group as a whole while another watched those H'kelans that had survived flee.

Kori had nearly fallen down upon the block once again, but with the shaking having ended she once again began to rise, staring up at the writhing back of the amalgamation. Up above, Gartian howled with laughter, beginning to clap wildly and almost leaping in place in his excitement.

"GLORIOUS, UTTERLY GLORIOUS! GROVEL FOR YOUR PATHETIC LIVES! BOW BEFORE ME, SO THAT I MIGHT MAKE YOUR AGONY SHORT! FIGHT, AND YOU WILL CERTAINLY DIE!"

Even those such as the Paladin, Joachim, and the Direwolf came to a stop, not charging the thing straight on. An energy was pulsing through it every so often, and with each pulse that disgusting muscle grew, covering more of the bones. Things in the area of the temple began to fall quiet, except for the creaking of bones and the howling of Gartian... and in the distance, a clamor began to rise, but it was so faint upon the wind that Cyril couldn't hear it.

"WHAT NOW, PRINCE? WILL YOU THROW YOURSELF INTO ONE OF ITS MAWS NOW?! OR HAVE YOU FINALLY REALIZED THAT YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY BEAT ME, THAT THIS IS HOPELESS FOR YOU?! HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT TO SUFFER, BOY?!"

Cyril grit his teeth and then began to shout in return, "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, GARTIAN?! WHY DO THIS?!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT, WHELP! DON'T PLAY STUPID, YOU INSULT US ALL!"

"LET KORI GO! TAKE ME INSTEAD! NONE OF US CAN BARGAIN WITH YOU WITHOUT HER-"

"CERTAINLY, SO LONG AS YOU DON'T TAKE OFF THAT LOCKET YOU'RE WEARING AROUND YOUR NECK FIRST!"

For a moment, Cyril went quiet. The tremble passed through him once again, and slowly he began to hold his arm out to the side, opening his mouth-

"ENOUGH!"

---

---

Both the King of H'kela and Prince of Barcea remained silent as the Queen raised her voice louder than them all. She did not scream or screech; she simply projected, and with a commanding voice silenced the all. The look on her face was one that Cyril had never seen before; there was an intense energy there, her usual gentleness replaced with a decisive look that would have made anyone kneel. Very slowly, she looked up to Gartian, expression calm despite that energy.

"Will you not listen to reason, Gartian? Must more blood be shed in this senseless war?"

"I'LL SHED ALL OF THE BLOOD I HAVE TO, AND ALL OF THE BLOOD I WANT TO, WHORE-QUEEN! I WOULDN'T EVEN CARE IF YOU HAD SOME GIFT; I'D KILL YOU ALL JUST FOR THE SPORT OF IT! ANYTHING JUST TO SHUT YOU UP, AT THIS POINT!"

Very slowly, Kori shut her eyes, her head bowed ever slightly. For a moment she was quiet, and when she opened her eyes once again she looked forwards, to those Barceans beyond the creature that didn't look back to her, looking through the gaps in its bones and past its side, underneath its outstretched arm. A moment longer she was silent, and then she spoke again.

"There is no way I'll allow you to have the Gift. Even if it means my life."

"NO!" Cyril shouted, taking one step forwards; when he did so, the thing up above suddenly swung around to look down to him. In that moment, Christopher began to shift slightly, noticing how the beast wasn't paying attention to him as he ended up next to the Paladin's large frame, using him to more certainly keep himself out of its sight. "KORI, DON'T SAY THAT! BARCEA NEEDS YOU! WE NEED YOU! NOTHING FROM ANY DIVINE COULD MATCH YOU!"

Christopher could feel the white blade that he carried almost shaking at his side. From it he could feel anticipation and excitement, like there was some sort of wild animal clawing at its cage right on his side. Perhaps with it, he could do something before anyone did anything stupid.

Briefly, Kori's eyebrows rose slightly, her pulling back some... And then she smiled slowly, her eyes coming to a close.

"Thank you, Cyril. I know what I'll do now."

Before he could say anything, she took steps forwards, throwing her arms out to the side. Without fear she approached the great and terrible creation, so quickly that it had no choice but to finally look at her with that strange head fused to its shoulder. Once again she raised her voice, proclaiming, "This can go on no longer, Gartian. Kill me, and be done with it. I will not be used as a hostage for your ridiculous ambitions."

In that moment, several things happened.

Cyril screamed, "NO!"

Gartian howled up above, shouting, "VERY WELL THEN, WITH PLEASURE," even as the Advisor hesitated as a feeling of foreboding came over her that she hadn't felt for hundreds of years.

And, perhaps most importantly, Christopher gripped down on the hilt of the blade as he prepared to draw it, and when he did so a pulse went out. The skin behind his nails suddenly tore back, his hair blew back some, and he swore loudly; but it was the pulse that distracted the Advisor, not the swearing, and it was the distraction that caused her to lose control.

The Advisor's will over the amalgamation slipped. Something left over from whatever that strange head was stirred, something that was left deep within the bones. The violent urges of a violent creature brought back to life had been suppressed up to that point thanks to the concentration of the Advisor, but when that broke this urge was allowed to rush forwards, even as it looked down upon the Queen.

As the head gave a horrible cracking sound before it dove down, two thoughts passed through the Queen's mind.

'Goodbye Cyril, Ayano. I leave you something terrible behind, and I am so sorry for it. I love you.'

And then one thought that, if she had been aware of it afterwards, would have shamed her.

'I don't want to die.'

Its jaws snapped down upon her upper left side, wrenching her upwards off her feet. Its entire torso shook as it swung its head back and forth, her legs whipping back and forth as her spine snapped, this instict of a quick and brutal kill took out upon her already corpse. Her body broken and limp, the horror swung its head to the side, flinging her shredded body to the ground, her tumbling heavily before she finally coming to a stop on the stone.

There were screams and yelling, and howling laughter from above, but Cyril didn't hear any of that. His face was deathly pale, and he just slowly fell to his knees, body limp.

He didn't hear as Gartian yelled out, "OH, THAT WAS FANTASTIC! I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE STANDING AT ATTENTION RIGHT NOW, DO FORGIVE ME, BWAHAHAHAHAHAH! OH, I HAVE WAITED FOR THIS DAY FOR A LONG TIME-!"

He didn't look up to watch as the Advisor struggled to bring her out of control horror back under her command, failing to do so as it swung around to face him, the closest one, the easiest target.

He didn't hear the Sentinels screaming his name, trying to get him to move, even as both the Direwolf and Joachim rapidly approached him, but even they wouldn't have been fast enough.

The smell of battle and that terrible stench of the creature was blocked from his nostrils. He no longer tasted the blood in his own mouth.

He only felt rage.

---

---

As the center head, that of the dragon, began to try and snap him up as well, his gaze snapped upwards, eyes narrowed and teeth set in a grimace so wide that his bloodied gums were exposed. A growl began in the back of his throat, and it escalated into a full on roar as he suddenly stood. His blade thrust upwards, and that roar became words, ones that boomed louder than any human should have been able to do, cracking like thunder:

"BURN IN HELL, ALL OF YOU!"

At the base of his arm a red spark appeared, flickering over his clothes. In the time it took him to thrust upwards, that spark was joined by more than a dozen others, and they violently leapt upwards as well. They were not electricity, moving too wildly, lasting too long, and growing too quickly to to be any mere sparks. Still higher they went, leaping from his hand and up along the sword, up to the very tip as steel met bone.

There was a flash of red accompanied by a roaring sort of blast as that strange energy suddenly grew exponentially, crackling through the entirety of the monster's form. At the point of contact there was an explosion that shattered the middle skull in its entirety, and sent the thing tumbling back on its own body even as Cyril's sword shattered in his hand, miraculously none of the fragments turning upon him. Everywhere where one part of it met another, such as when its higher torso collapsed upon the lower one or its arm fell back against a leg, there was another explosion, and soon the entire creature was crumbling in on itself as broken, massive shards of bone were sent flying dangerously in all directions.

Its collapsing body sent long fragile columns tumbling, the walls around them beginning to crumble as well, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be beneath.

As Gartian yelled something that couldn't quite be called words, the Direwolf reached the Prince while Joachim had been sent diving to avoid the initial destruction. Despite not being hit with any metal or bone, the Prince gave an agonized roar as pain shot through his body, his hands coming up to his own head. The Direwolf's hand reached out to grab the Prince's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact another red spark leapt from the Prince onto his hand. His eyes widened in surprise as he watched the metal of the gauntlet begin to be eaten away, and he cast off the piece of armor quickly to avoid suffering anything similar as well.

When he saw no more sparks he finally grabbed the Prince, and as he did so there was another clamor from what was left of the entrance. Suddenly horses surged into view, and with them one much larger than the rest; upon it rode Kisarin, and with his massive blade raised he directed towards the way he came.

"QUICK, SENTINELS, ALL OF YOU! THE GAP IS GOING TO CLOSE SOON, WE DON'T HAVE TIME!"

Without the slightest bit of hesitation and despite all the resistance Cyril gave him, the thrashing and screaming, Alsius dragged the Prince towards the empty horses that had been brought along by the Guratans for them all. He practically threw the Prince onto the horse, and when Cyril attempted to get back to the ground the Direwolf ruthlessly punched him, sending his world sideways. So disoriented was Cyril he wasn't quite aware of what was going on as everyone mounted up, and fled from the temple even as Gartian continued to rant and rave, and the Advisor just turned away, holding her own hand to herself. He had recovered only slightly as they shot through a battle, the Guratan army having fought their way so deeply into H'kela that they had placed their line near the temple, and had prepared themselves to break through for the Sentinels at the time of the execution. It was through this hole in the H'kelan main army that was kept open by the Guratans that they rode through, and continued on past the battle entirely.

For three hours they rode before they reached the Guratan camp, and once there everything came to a stop. The Guratans, normally a merry if boisterous people, went strangely quiet when they saw the returning crowd. Gazes were downcast in their ranks, faces pale and stony for some, flushed with tears for others, but the Sentinels brought with them an unusual aura of despair and failure.

Cyril, in a way, personified this. His head was the furthest lowered, and his expression strangely void of emotion as he rode, and still so as he began to dismount. His steps were slow, uneven, and uncertain, and he began to almost stagger away without saying a word to anyone. Those that had gathered as they came to a stop just simply stepped aside for him, all except one... Who ran into his arms, and was as chipper as could be.

"Cyril! You're back! I'm so glad, I was so worried you had gotten hurt! Are any of you hurt? How bad was it? Can Diane fix it? Where's Kori at, I want to speak to her too-!"

Even as Ayano babbled away, Cyril remained quiet, and she very quickly realized something was wrong. Slowly she pulled away slightly, her hands gripping at the bend of his arms tightly. "Cyril...? Where's Kori...?"

Cyril did not answer.

The Princess' lip began to tremble, and then the bandages of her eyes began to rapidly dampen as the tremble went through her entire body. Her hands came up, and she began bringing her fists against his chest, even as she began to scream. "No! NO! YOU SAID YOU'D BRING HER BACK! YOU SAID YOU'D BRING HER BACK, BRING HER BACK, BRING HER BACK-!" And then she was pulling away, charging off in a random direct, not caring even as she sent some packs tumbling and sent a pot crashing over. Quickly, Diane went after her, rushing as fast as she could.

Cyril, meanwhile, only looked forward, before he began to walk once again. He had no destination in mind, only to head deeper into the camp.

Drosil Maeneld

Death of Hope

We're dead

This was the thought that went through Drosil's head as the necrotic monstrosity burst from the ground, the aura of despair and terror it gave off only matched by the foul stench that rolled off it. The flames around him died down to nothing as he lost the will to fight knowing that it would all be pointless. He doubted he could tickle that thing, much less kill it. All those years of studying and training, and it meant absolutely nothing before the beast that the Advisor had brought forth before them. As the Prince tried to talk some since to the Mad King, Drosil was thinking on how funny the Divines were, giving him life again only to have it be snatched away mere days later. Or maybe, this is the punishment for trying to run away from death, a punishment that has the potential to be so much worse and take much, much longer.

This contemplation was interrupted, however, by the shout of the Queen who, in her selflessness, offered her life to the king, wanting her blood to be the last spilt. While on the outside all he did was watch, in his mind he was screaming at her to stop, that this wouldn't solve anything, that all her sacrifice would do was satisfy this maniac's twisted desires even further. In the end, this indignation, might've done something to give him cause to move, to do something beyond standing in fear. But then he felt it, a pulse of something emitting from behind him, followed quickly by a curse from Christopher. In the moment that he turned to look at the boy, he heard a sharp crack ring through the air, and turned just in time to see the Queen's body be flung lifelessly around in one of the abominations twisted mouths, his eyes growing wide for a moment as he simply watched it for a moment. In that instant, he suddenly realized why, even after everything he'd gone through, even after all of the insanity and danger, that he was still following the Prince. He once thought that it was because it gave him a purpose, and while that was true, it also gave him something else, something much more precious and rare.

It had given a poor orphan boy hope that the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

The Queen was kind and fair, her family was lovely, and she seemed to do no wrong. She was the ideal of what every ruler should strive to become, and in her, he saw all the hope this world had to offer. If it wasn't for Kori, Drosil probably would've left long ago, distracted by the next shiny thing to catch his attention on the road. She had, with her very existence, made him thing that maybe the Divines weren't as blind as he believed them to be, deep in his heart, that there was light to be had in what seemed like all-consuming darkness.

But as he saw her broken body fall to the ground, then he knew that he was a fool. This world was harsh, it had always been harsh, and the only way to get anywhere, to make real change, was to dig into the filth and force it. To become the change you wanted to see, you couldn't let morals stop you from doing what must be done. There is no room to be 'good' in this world, for only those hardened by experience and pain, only those willing to forgo everything, even their own humanity, were able to achieive the real power needed to make the world better.

In history, there have been only been two kinds of Divineborn: Heroes, and Tyrants. Do you aspire to be either? Do you know what you'll do next?

Those had been the words that the Queen had asked Shadar, and he had predictably laughed them off, because they had never really thought of ruling or entering anything. Of course, Drosil had his ambition, but even back when he said it to the Paladin, the bluster and force was mostly the drugs talking. He didn't truly believe he could do it, no matter what he tried. But now, with this great injustice before him, he came to a simple decision: Heroes die and get remembered, but ultimately make little difference in the long run. As such, even if he became a tyrant, he would do whatever he could to purge this land of filth like Gartian. No law, no morals, no man, woman, even children, nothing would stand in his way, not anymore. It was weakness that he couldn't afford to harbor, not if he wanted to truly realize his ambition.

Rest in Peace, Kori. . . and I'm sorry that I couldn't stay on a righteous path. Please don't hold anything against me in the afterlife for the man I see that I must eventually become.

Drosil bowed his head, paying little heed to the following events as Cyril destroyed the beast, any curiosity or shock he might've felt unable to present themselves as he simply paid his respects to the greatest woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. And then he turned his eyes to Gartian and his Advisor from where he stood, unmoving at first as the others started to retreat, reinforcements approaching soon. Despite the distance, his gaze would burrow into the madman, the rage held within his gold and blue eyes burning low, but at the same time, with an intensity that only Cyril's could overcome. That man, to Drosil, showed to him everything that was wrong with the world and, no matter what, he would see to it that this man died one day, and if he had a say, it would be slow, painful, and humiliating. It was no less then what a worm like him deserved.

Drosil then turned and followed the other's in retreat, effortlessly mounting one of the horses and galloping off, away from the sight of failed rescue.

When the group arrived in the Campsite, Drosil was around during the heartbreaking scene between Cyril and Ayano, though he looked away as soon as the young girl appeared, knowing the results before she said a word, and he had more class than to watch the siblings as they grieve. Instead, he walked over to wherever Stark was, as she seemed like the only natural person to go to right now. He would approach silently, not speaking a word at first as he simply seemed to contemplate what there really was to say. In the end, he guessed there was only one thing to say.

"So . . . what happens now?"