---

"Wvysen's dead, Penny."

Penny's irritatingly lengthy short version was met with an answer no less short, cold and precise than her very own scalpel. Even if it wasn't the original her scalpel was in effect no worse than the tool she was handed down by her tutor. Less sentimental perhaps but Trypano was no creature of sentiments.

"While your work thus far is appreciated in your absence our group was collectively ambushed by Black Rezaindians that the princess claims were agents of her uncle, the sitting king of Segona. Among them was an atomic specialist who killed Wvysen in their opening attack. While we ultimately killed every aggressor we were aware of Onarr was badly mauled by their kineticist and several civilians were caught in the crossfire between the atomic mage, Benedetto and Ingrid."

Finished with catching Penny up with what went on while she was captured Trypano turned, looking out to see Ingrid making her way over on a block of ice. Poorly, as it would seem. Taking everything mentioned so far into consideration she proceeded onwards, not even bothering to look over as she continued to speak.

_
"Once what remains of our group is gathered we will need to discuss our plan moving forward from here. The princess is determined to wage naval battle with the Maria Nera as she's convinced it now contains allies of her uncle on board."

She paused right as she was about pass Penny in grabbing the lantern from beneath the nearby stool. She was not blind to Penny's defensiveness. While it would be easy enough to dismiss it as her not taking the situation seriously enough she was well aware that she oft' off-put people with how clinical she was. It was simply hammered into her, both from those surrounding her throughout her childhood and her training as a nurse during her tutelage. She had always been introspective, removed even but even her brother could see how these things had pushed her to detach herself emotionally from everyone and everything. What he recognized however was that she could still feel them, well and far below the cold exterior. She was perhaps more passionate than anyone regarding the things she truly cared about. For but a brief moment she looked over to Penny, face remaining the same but with her tone ever slightly softer, less sharp than her words prior.

"We'll need to decide whether to back the princess's gambit or take what we have and exfiltrate ourselves. Consider what you now know carefully before you decide."

_
Her attention was then drawn away by Desmond's haphazard attempt to board the ship which resulted in them landing in a heap atop one another. This might of been funny or perhaps a little embarrassing to witness given Ingrid's state of dress for others. For her it was little more than a momentary distraction from the truth that most of their group was now assembled aboard the ship. There was little need for her to brief them. They knew what she knew and Penny was unlikely to bogart her info from them if she was so willing to divulge it to her. It was time to see to the last piece of this puzzle: The Lantern.

She procured the item out from beneath the stool and gave it a look-over. It's make was of a lamp old enough to fit the bill, a simple design with a mere candle within. She made sure to clear the interior out of any debris that might have found it's way inside during Penny's retrieval of it before drying the wick with her fingers and using a basic Arcane spell to light it. Given that Arcane was the chosen school of the god this artifact was in tribute to it was fitting to see if using such magic would provoke a response from it. All the while she was using her binding to monitor the amount of energy running through it's material form. If it truly was of divine origin and not just a relic given ceremonial purpose then it would undoubtably have a magical signature of some form. As a binder she was quite familiar with the art of crafting enchanted objects like so. Seemed this item shouldn't be exempt from the same principles.

But the only way to know for sure was to test it.

---

Interacting with - @Force and Fury,@Th3King0fChaos,@dragonpiece & @Bork Lazer

---

Carmillia grabbed Leon’s shoulder when he was just entering the narrow passage, only to fall through him as if it were nothing. Not even the image of Leon reacted to such an attempt. The dance continued down the way, further and further toward the indoor entertainment. The playful noises of partying, music, and a bit too much alcohol had now been replaced with violence, bloodshed, and way too much alcohol. The images of Leons speed up toward it as if the melody in his head had increased in tempo.

Sometime, about halfway through the Leons’ journey down, a small change of expression occurred. One after the other, their smile turned more mischievous while looking back down the hall toward those chasing him, as if some event had amused them.

Very shortly after, through all the commotion and chaos ahead, a voice called out from the entrance to the party lounge. The Arcane mages may have not been able to tell who it was. But Carmillia and the other chasing students would be able to recognise it immediately. “Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare to be amazed! By the one, the only, Leon Solaire!” It was Leon trying to put on a deepened announcer voice, but the three Leons were only being halfway there.

Nothing more of note happened until the Leons reach the end of the passage. First, they converged on a single spot only just inside the hall, they brought their hands up to their mouths for a while as if calling out something. But nothing could be heard from them.

Leon faced toward the crowd raising his arms as if greeting a standing ovation. There were no longer three Leons, just a single one to perform the finale. The following happened
simultaneously in magnificent fashion: A cluster of marbles apparated on the ground and a second copy of the first group slowly rose from the same position into Leon’s lowered right arm. Leon’s left arm tossed the lyre forward high into the air, it didn’t look like a particularly hard throw but the lyre moved at an unnatural speed toward the ceiling and then dropped quickly into the crowd as if gravity had doubled for the lyre alone. Finally, another Leon waltzed in from the left exit of the lounge at unnatural speed. This one took weird non-linear movements and passed through a few of the rioters as if it were a ghost but then also took the time to step over some dead ones.

With the lyre now in the crowd, the marbles having disappeared in his hand, and the other Leon milliseconds away from touching him, the first Leon turned on a heel toward the hallway. They both took a bow, the first Leon went first but the second Leon moved much faster so they both finished at the same time. Then the marbles erupted, engulfing the entrance and a considerable portion of the lounge in light glitter as the bowing Leon suddenly disappeared.

Ta da!

---

Leon stood under the covered verandah just outside the entertainment hall. He held onto the railing as he gazed over the moonlit waters of the river. He was lucky to have found a safe place so close. One could even call it peaceful if it wasn’t for the sounds of unrestrained violence coming from the rest of the boat. For a second, he thought he could also hear it echoing across the river. Maybe it was more of the same on shore. He still chuckled off the high of a perfectly executed performance, in spite of it all.

He took laboured breaths, slinking his arms back into his shoulders as he let his head rest downward. Even if Leon wanted to help, he knew that he was incapable of doing so in his current state. He had only a sliver of magical ability left to work with, his pouch of marbles was emptied out with that last stunt, and even if all that wasn’t the case he doubted he would be able to truly confront what was happening in the entertainment hall.

Sure, Leon had seen a drunken brawl before and that was what he expected to see when he reached the hall. But it was far, far worse than that. It took all his energy to not focus on the chaos around him earlier. He had to step over a few unconscious people to even get outside. At least, his mind couldn’t bear to think that the worst had happened to them.

There was no use dwelling on events he is powerless to stop. All he could do now is wait here and hope the others get out alright.

---

---

Even with Jocasta shielding the party from the worst of the desert winds, Yalen was still feeling uncomfortably hot. He had long since shed his outer robe and tied it around his camel’s neck. Miatto's natives were no stranger to the occasional heat wave, but those times were spent hiding indoors or dipping one’s feet in the local river.

Yalen uncapped his water flask and took a cool drink of water. It was a simple task to draw the heat out of the flask beforehand. The budding arcanist half considered using the so-called lich’s touch on himself out of desperation, but ultimately decided against it. Giving yourself hypothermia was not a great way to beat the heat.

Their second encounter with Halassa gave them a bit of a fright, though the guards had things well under control. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like these ones were aberration mad. Yalen had no desire to boil any more brains while he was here. Though the overgrown tortoises were persistent, the ranger Escarra showed an impressive level of restraint. His small act of mercy was an example Yalen wanted to follow.

Difficulties continued to hamper the group’s progress. An aggressive rhinodon charged straight through the caravan, and inexperienced as he was Yalen was barely able to get his camel out of the way. Neither the guards nor Zarina found themselves able to calm the beast, but it eventually lost interest in them after smelling the air for something. But what?

"The hoodoos!" shouted Escarra. ”Now!” Their ranger took off in a full gallop. Yalen had no idea what the danger was, but he wasn’t going to stop and ask questions when everyone was about to take off without him. He got his camel up to full speed and followed. It became clear soon after that a sand storm was about to engulf them, but the nearby cliff and rocky spires served well enough as shelter.

When the storm had passed, it left behind some previously unspotted ruins. The party gratefully took shelter just past the entrance and stopped for lunch. While Yalen tucked into a simple meal of bread and cheese, he was unexpectedly joined by Ayla. The two of them had a pleasant conversation, though some disturbing revelations were made that gave Yalen serious pause for thought.
[see collaboration with Ti for full conversation]

The party was on the move once more. Remounting his camel took a bit of effort on Yalen’s part, and one of the guards had to help him halfway. While passively scanning the desert for possible threats, Yalen’s consciousness touched something he didn’t expect to. He fearfully withdrew his mental probe. It was the aberration. He shared a look with Marceline and Jocasta. There was no way they didn’t sense it too.

"I can feel it," announced the youngest of the trio, moving up closer to the head of the pack. She pointed further down the canyon. "Not sure exactly how far." She glanced back towards Jocasta and the older girl took a moment to catch up. "About...uh... eight miles away," she decided, and Escarra scowled, brow furrowed in momentary thought. "Then we go," he announced. "On the return, no dinner." Suiting words to action, he coaxed some more speed out of his camel, and the group pressed forward.

The further the caravan traveled into Eshiran’s Throat, the more froabasses could be seen roosting along the edges of the cliffs. It would be impossible to evade them in the canyon. Yalen kissed his holy necklace and uttered a few words of prayer under his breath.

The tethered detected the sand wyrm after a couple hours, and apparently it detected them as well. Escarra barely had time to point everyone towards a rocky outcropping before the sand came alive right behind them. Even after reaching the shelter of the cliff side, the group still found itself threatened by the growing draconic presence in the area. Over a dozen froabasses had descended on their position, drawn by freshly exposed prey. Some of the dragons came dangerously close to the camels and instigated a panic among the animals.

Yalen nearly had his neck injured by whiplash when his camel bolted without warning. His feeble attempts to soothe the beast went unanswered and he was eventually tossed off his saddle. After shaking off his dizziness, the fragile cleric realized he was now on open sand and in plain view of the flying predators. He wasn’t the only one either. Practically the entire party had been scattered save for Escarra and Zarina.

A massive scaly body landed heavily a few feet away from where Yalen lay, causing a cloud of sand to kick into the air. There was no mercy in the eyes of the starving dragon. He could see saliva dripping out of its jagged maw. With no combat training or experience, the only thing that saved Yalen was his desperate survival instinct. He held out his golden sunset medallion and drew to his full capacity as fast as humanly possible.

“Ahn-Shune, grant me your light!” Yalen closed his eyes just before the blinding flash erupted from his hand. The froabass shrieked in pain as its optic nerves were temporarily overloaded. It clawed at the sand and thrashed about with its tail, nearly killing Yalen in the process. With all the strength he had he first crawled, then sprinted away, running faster than he ever had in his entire life. His eyes were half-blind with sweat and tears, otherwise he might have gotten a full view of the massacred guards and camels strewn about the sand. Yalen knew what was happening. His nose was sensitive to the smell of blood.

He was dearly close to his friends now. Yalen could see the guards and the other students doing whatever they could to repel the dragons. The beasts were beaten back with guns and magic alike, but their numbers appeared limitless. His skin grew hot as a nearby froabass attempted to roast him with a gout of fire. Yalen’s immediate reaction was to erect a crude barrier using Binding, having witnessed Kaspar employing the same strategy before. It was too thin to stop the dragon itself, but the flames spewing from its mouth were repelled.

The beast knew its breath attack had failed and swiftly advanced on Yalen, intending to tear him apart directly. The exhausted cleric was taxed for Mana and rapidly running out of ideas. He had no camel to ride, no Kinesis to carry him away from danger. As he numbly faced his own demise, Yalen’s thoughts began to echo with the words of the Traveller.

“Is it really your duty to preserve all life?”

So I now have to choose between my life and that of Oraff’s creations? Yalen gazed at the approaching froabass dispassionately. There was no choice to be made. He was no hero. His body trembled with fear. Lacking the strength to save himself or his friends, he closed his eyes and waited for the end.

He didn’t feel the claws ripping into his flesh. As he stood there with his eyes closed, Yalen experienced something beyond pain, a growing pressure that threatened to tear him apart from the inside.

It hurts…! What’s happening to me? It was like having the worst case of indigestion, migraine, and muscle cramps all at the same time. Yalen fell to his knees and dry heaved. With his sixth sense he could tell someone was drawing a massive amount of energy. It was far more than any one of them should have been capable of. Even the sisters with their huge capacities could kill themselves by overdrawing like this! As he collapsed into the sand, Yalen could just barely see Jocasta rising into the air. But his body and Manas were too weak to resist the wave of raw power. He could feel himself blacking out as the froabasses disappeared from sight.

He didn’t know how long it took for the pressure to subside, but eventually Yalen’s consciousness returned. One of the others shook him awake and pulled him to his feet. Yalen was eventually able to limp back to the group unaided. Everyone looked to be in bad shape. Not all of them had made it. Whatever Jocasta did, it had left her looking much worse for wear.

"I tried to get the wyrm," she rasped, "but I couldn't. The froabasses are... nine miles from here, with their food. They won't be bothering us anymore." She blinked a couple of times, clearly woozy, and tried to sit up, but she needed help to do it. "We need to stop the wyrm. It's headed for the aberration. If it gets there..." She paused. A dark look had crossed Marceline's face. Kneeling in the sand, she knit and unknit her fingers and shook her head tightly. "I cannot sense the aberration anymore," she squeaked, looking to Yalen for confirmation. "I fear we are too late."

Yalen wasn’t thinking about the wyrm or the aberration right that second. He barely had the energy to stand on his feet and breathe at the same time. A single question popped into his mind as he looked between Jocasta and Marceline, formed from his conversation with Ayla and Jocasta’s most recent show of power.

Jocasta… who are you really? The question was not uttered out loud though. He knew better. Yalen took a deep breath and tried his best to scan the region, reaching out several kilometers in every direction in a vain attempt to get a bead on the aberration’s location.

“Marceline is… right. The worst… has come to… to pass. The sand wyrm is a-aberration mad and… none of us will be safe now.” Yalen managed to gasp between mouthfuls of air.

The conversation with Ayla kept playing through Kaspar’s mind as the group traversed the sands of Torragon. Some part of him felt guilty to be so selfishly distracted when the threat for danger was so high, but the larger part of him couldn’t be bothered—there were nine others in the convoy, three of whom could sense farther with the Gift than he could ever hope to. They did not need him.

He wished he could say, at the very least, that his distraction had been productive—but the boy wasn’t sure that it had. He kept trying to imagine what it was he wanted, but found so much of this “ideal” life in conflict with itself.

He loved his parents—the Elstrøms—greatly, and he knew they loved him. He had more opportunities than would have ever been available to him Kerremand… But less freedom. The path before him was set as the heir of a noble family, and he didn’t mind terribly much most days. But there was an immense pressure, like an executioner’s ax hanging above his neck. Above his whole family—above the lineage he purported himself to be from.

If it was discovered that he was not the legitimate, blood-born heir, it would have dire consequences for the Elstrøm name and family. Even if the discovery was centuries from now, it could throw into question the continuation of this family.

By right of blood, the Elstrøm line would die the day he took the title of Marquis. No child he sired would be legitimate; no blood of his, no matter how distant into the future, would truly belong in the seat of the Marquis. This was the true danger of his past, the reason why this secret needed to be so closely guarded. The last morsel of knowledge of his past would need to die with those who knew it now. No written history, no great secret passed to another, no matter how deeply he trusted them.

For the first time since he had arrived at Ersand’Enise, Kaspar found himself longing for Willa. Not even the tutor knew the truth of him, but she had consoled him from nightmares he could not explain many times in his childhood. She may not understand why he needed the comfort, but she would provide it nonetheless.

But… there were others capable of that, too. Ayla had seen his stricken face earlier and offered him comfort though he could not tell her what had shaken him. She had offered words of encouragement and kindness.

He wondered if she would be as kind if she knew he’d lied—that his whole life was a lie. If she knew how dangerous he was.

His eyes scanned his collection of classmates, and with a sharp jolt of pain in his chest, Kaspar wondered if they could ever forgive him, were they to learn the truth. For being so dishonest, for impersonating someone of importance when he was anything but, for being a monster who had nearly killed because he had lacked control. Would they forgive the blood on his hands, when his own birth mother could not?

He shut his eyes tightly, breathing as deeply as the stifling air would allow. There was good reason he could never reveal the truth to them—not even to the kind and bright Ayla. It would be the undoing of his family, and the undoing of himself.

Choking down the pain and forcing his mind to other things, Kaspar Elstrøm von Wentoft continued on into the sands.

---

By the time they had stopped to eat, Kaspar was on edge, focus so tightly coiled that he felt like it might burst. The halassa had been a less than welcome sight, reminding him of the charcoal one he’d left on the wall of his room—with double the fighting force they’d had the previous night, the boy had faith they could handle it. But stopping to fight among these sands would undoubtedly bring trouble of its own kind.

He’d been relieved when Escarra had scared them off with the rifle, though his mind wondered what sort of attention the noise would attract, if any. Did sound travel well here in the desert, or did the wind and the sand choke it before it truly got a chance to live?

The rhinodon was a surprise to the boy. He didn’t know much of desert wildlife, and all that knowledge stemmed from the previous night’s experience. He steered his camel out of the way, pulling on his knowledge of riding horses, but the movements were strange to Kaspar and he hadn’t been reacting as quickly as he hoped to, feeling off-balance.

He’d noticed Zarina’s attempts to distract the creature, and was grateful even if they didn’t seem to have much effect. He managed to avoid the first charge, narrowly avoiding a nasty spill off the back of his steed, and had tried to move himself out of the way of the next charge—until the beast suddenly gave up its quarry, making a brisk retreat.

Kaspar at least knew that it wasn’t a good sign, his fears being confirmed heartbeats later when the ranger called for them to flee to the safety of the hoodoos. As he had spurred his camel toward the cliffs he saw the great wall of sand approaching and felt his throat tighten. It had reminded him of the snow squalls that would sometimes pass through Wentoft in the coldest months. While this sand squall would likely be free from the dangers of hypothermia, he could only think of the abrasiveness of the particles—far rougher than that of snow.

They’d found shelter enough among the hoodoos, and the sand squall had revealed a good enough shelter to rest.

As he ate, trying to let his mind rest for a time, Kaspar was grateful for the shade. The heat out here was monstrous, and part of him thought a snow squall might be refreshing now. He certainly preferred the harsh chill of Helbahn to the hell that was this desert, but knew there was no real point in wishing for something that was a continent away.

Lunch was a quiet affair for the noble; he preferred to observe conversations most of the time anyway, and the classmates who might try to drag him into one all seemed occupied with their own discussions. It didn’t bother him, though a piece of the boy was curious to know what they talked about as words failed to reach his ears. That was, perhaps, by design—noting this, and not wanting to intrude unless invited, the Helbahnese spent most of his time passively watching the card game, occasionally glancing up to observe Escarra’s movements.

Kaspar could not say he was pleased to be moving again, as they shuffled away from the ruins and back into the sand, but he pushed his growing discomfort away in favor of focusing on the task before them. He did not have long to contemplate the potential success of the journey, as the tethered among them finally noticed the aberration. Despite the heat in the air, Kaspar felt a small shiver go down his spine.

They moved further along the cliffs, and there was no room now for distraction; his crimson eyes were constantly scanning the movements above, the froabases looking for any opening to swoop down upon them. As they rode, Kaspar drew from the sands around them, letting something of a reserve build up in his manas in case he needed to act quickly. Quietly, his fingers slipped into the pocket of his vest and he clutched his wand in one hand, preparing for the peace to rupture at any moment.

When Marceline finally rode back to tell the majority of them that a wyrm had been sensed a mile off, it felt in some ways like rainfall after a drought. The threat was known, and though it had not yet attacked, Kaspar felt the anticipation bleed from him. He nodded, unsettled but prepared. He followed Escarra as they made for the rocky ground near the cliffs, senses on alert but breathing calm.

But the calm could not last, and as the tension, thin wire that it was, snapped into chaos, Kaspar’s heart beat into his throat. Some of his companions may be able to hasten their beasts with the Gift, but he had no such talent—he arrived at the rocky outcrop among the last of the convoy, barely outpacing Zarina despite her detour to save the supply camel that had spooked.

For a moment, they were safe among the rocks, but it could not last—not after the wyrm had stirred up the sands and the creatures of Eshiran’s Throat. As blood began to spill and soak into the sand, Kaspar felt his camel startle and tensed with expectation.

He’d enjoyed riding horses over the past five years at Wentoft, lessons frequent—but he’d first been put in a saddle at eight, shortly after he arrived there. The boy still remembered walking around the training yard, clutching tightly to the mane of the horse as he rocked back and forth, legs already aching. It had been merely a harmless garden snake that spooked his steed, but enough to send it galloping across the yard in a panic, poor Kaspar unable to keep his grip as he slid from the saddle, landing harshly on the ground and barely avoiding the back hooves of the beast. Willa had consoled him then, too, holding his hands as he’d sat in the grass and sobbed, startling every time the horse snorted from a few dozen feet away.

He felt a similar sense of helplessness now, as his camel bolted from the scene. Try as he might to control it, the noble couldn’t calm the beast—and though he was unhappy with its behavior, he could not say he blamed it.

It would not be enough to save them, though. As he felt the froabase descending, shadows of its wings upon the sand, Kaspar turned in his saddle and swung his wand out, a barrier of stone slamming into the creature.

It was closer than he had expected, though, claws already grasping at his camel. He felt a pang of guilt at being unable to save the beast, but his life was more important. He pushed off, sending himself one direction as his steed was ripped from underneath him, horrific screeches coming from both it and its predator. He hit the sand and rolled, more by force than by choice.

Stopping on all fours, teeth bared and bloodied red from biting his lip and tongue in the fall, there was something wild in the face of the boy. As another predator swirled in the sky and dove toward him, he reached out with his manas and pulled.

It was like the creature’s face had burst, but there was no flesh spraying out from the impact—blood spilled on him and the sand around him as it screeched, and Kaspar felt the pressure building in his blood as a harsh spear of rock appeared in the air, only half-conscious of his casting it. The froabase rolled to the side mid-air and took the jagged weapon only half in the throat, tearing at the flesh but not outright killing it.

It circled, preparing for another dive, and Kaspar felt the pressure building again—but this time, he was not the one drawing.

With a start, he realized his attacker had stopped moving, hanging from the air like one of Ysilla’s puppets against a darkening sky.

He would’ve hit his knees if he were not already on them, and his blood-soaked hands came up to clutch tightly to his head, nauseous from the immense pressure. He felt like he was going to explode, and for half a second wondered if this was the price of using Blood Magic.

Then it stilled, and turned stranger still—Kaspar glanced up, expecting to see the Paradigm himself among the sands, but instead saw Jocasta in the air, emanating power in a way he’d never felt so directly. And the froabases were gone, and he questioned if they’d ever been there at all.

Jocasta dropped to the ground, but Kaspar fell forward onto his hands, fingers digging into blood-soaked sand as he panted out harsh breaths. When he finally looked up again, blood dribbling down his chin, Jocasta was being tended to.

Curiosity prickled at the boy, but he could shove it aside easily enough. Right now, he didn’t care what sort of forbidden magic she had tapped into—it had saved their lives. He hardly had room for judgement or disapproval, given his own attempt to escape death, though an internet in her and her abilities would certainly grow from here.

Kaspar pushed to his feet, blood-splattered and looking worse-off than he actually was. His mouth tasted of copper but the wounds were not terrible; bothersome, but they would heal up fine. As he made his way to the group, exhaustion settling deep in his bones, the boy noted who had been lost. None of his classmates, thankfully, but two of the guards—it was sad, though he couldn’t spare the energy to be truly upset by it now.

Much of the journey back was a blur, Kaspar’s awareness shifting in and out. He found a camel somewhere, though it was definitely not his own. He wasn’t sure if he was dozing or simply losing awareness from the stress, but when he truly noticed his surroundings again, the blood on his shirt was dry and it flaked from his chin and throat. The walls of the Refuge were in sight, and for a moment a sense of safety overwhelmed him.

It was tamped down by a bitter, amused remembrance of what had happened the previous night within sight of those walls. There were nearly done, but Kaspar would not truly believe it until they were well within the walls.

And he doubted he would truly feel safe until they were back in Ersand’Enise, far away from this hellscape.

---

---

The entire thing was an illusion. Manfred was no master of that particular art, but he was practiced enough that, when combined with situational factors, he was able to figure it out. Carmillia, apparently, wasn't. That may have brought him some satisfaction. It may not have.

Unfortunately, it didn't much matter whether the ship's arcanists understood what was going on or not. Leon had revealed his hand as a... liberator of the Lyre of Ipte-Zept and they were in pursuit. Violence: Manfred would have to resort to it again. At least they're Rednitz scum, he told himself, hating every bit of his flimsy justification even as he thought it. Perhaps they were just distracted. Maybe they hadn't yet registered that allies of Leon Solaire were no longer their allies.

Whatever the reason, Manfred did not hesitate to act. "Leave her defenseless again," he said simply to Zarra, "you will die." He stalked up behind the closer of the two arcanists, reached out with The Gift, and slammed the heavy metal cap that had fallen from a chandelier into a human head. Escheran willing, merely unconscious, he told himself, muffling the noise of his action. Striding forward in pursuit of his ally, the enemy, and Carmillia, he shot a brief, concerned glance back at Dorothea and drew a pair of loaded flintlock pistols.

---

Onarr prepared to follow the rest of the group to jump the ship. He began shifting magnetic energy under his soles and began to follow behind Ingrid, stepping behind her as rivers of lightning poured out from his foot and burnt away the water, buoying him upwards.

Well, that was what should have happened. Instead, Onarr felt the charge beneath his feet disappear like a drop of water on a hot summer’s day. His boots waggled in the air, trying to grab on for purchase, before he looked around and balked at what he was seeing.

Everything around him was frozen, their expressions transfixed. The oceans around him were still, the lurching waves crested like serpents waiting to strike. Onarr moved his hand around and then, pinched himself to see whether or not he was hallucinating from prolonged underwater asphyxiation. The sharp stab of pain confirmed his hypothesis. Onarr bit his lip, looking nervously around him before a tap on his shoulder interrupted his thought process.

“ By Shune’s saggy nethers, what -” Onarr couldn’t complete his sentence as the spitting image of his brother appeared before him. He had a violet shawl around his neck and his cow-licked blonde hair was roughly cut but a puckish smile under his green eyes made Onarr’s heart skip a beat. He slowly reached his hand out to graze his brother’s cheek as he spoke breathlessly.

“ Karl. How are you here?” He looked down at his brother’s feet which were leather-shod with thick castle-forged bracing around the knees. “ Your legs….you can walk again and is this temporal magic? How- ?

“ A long and fascinating one but that doesn’t matter.” Karl firmly grabbed Onarr’s shoulder and silenced his older sibling’s mumblings with a hug. “ How are you, arakun?”

“ Well - “ Onarr gently removed himself from his brother’s grip, his curiosity overcoming his relief. “ - I don’t understand. Why have you journeyed all the way to the other side of the world?”

“ I need your help. Well, not me.” Karl looked down with guilt, chewing his inner cheek for a few seconds, before staring at Onarr in the eyes. “ There’s no easy way to say this but our parents need help.”

Onarr felt as though he had bitten into a lemon. His head leaned back for a moment to consider the revelation before nodding for his brother to continue.

“ Explain.”

“ Our mother was arrested on grounds of sedition and heresy by the Stresian Guild and our father too by association. I managed to escape from the family homestead before they….they….”

Karl stammered and then took a short breath to recompose himself. His pain-stricken face made Onarr guilty. He had to leave his little brother all alone in Joru to deal with it by himself. He should have been there, but he was more alarmed with what Karl had told him. He could count the number of excommunicated and arrested members on his two hands and even then, his mother had openly denounced herself of the Guild. To arrest former members was to set new and worrying precedents.

“ They set it all on fire. There’s nothing left, Onarr. Nothing.”

“ That’s a lie. The Guild wouldn’t - “

“ Whether it was the Guild or not, one thing is for certain.” Karl’s gaze was now firm as steel, conviction boiling under his eyes. “ Things have changed in Joru ever since you entered Ersand’Enise. I tried to investigate it but to no avail.”

Karl snapped his fingers and before Onarr could react, a transparent sphere appeared to their right. It reminded Onarr of a beaker with how he could see the ocean bending through it. However, he shifted his head to the right and he could see a flicker of green and then, the yellow tufts of the Joru plains. His brother had somehow managed to opened a space-time portal with the same amount of effort it would take to butter a piece of bread.

“The portal won’t hold for long, brother.” Karl gritted out, his tone measured. “ You need to make your decision now.”

Onarr looked at the portal contemplatively and then, towards his brother.

“ You’re asking me to leave Ersand’Enise. With the news you told me, what is left for us in Joru?”

“ Only what we make of it, arakun.” His brother grunted as a drop of blood slid out of his nose. “ We cannot tarry for much longer. What is your choice?”

“ You, of course.” Onarr then scratched his chin before taking out a piece of coal. “ But could you break the fabric of reality long enough for me to finish writing this note?”

---

As you looked around for Onarr, the Joruban dwarf was mysteriously nowhere to be seen, once there and now gone. Then, you noticed something within your pocket. Taking it out, it appeared to be a message hastily written in charcoal.

Dear compatriots,

I’m afraid that duty has compelled me to return back to my homelands. Trouble has come onto my doorstep and I must confront what I tried to leave behind in my past. I wish you all fortune in your quest and may you become great mages.

May happenstance favor us to meet again in good tidings.

Onarr Yidlob.

---

Tick
Tick
Tick

The two metronomes she pictured moved and sounded on their own for some time. Ysilla wasn't sure how much time was needed but the madness of both running on their own soon synchronized into one rhythm. The weak forces tying the metronomes together had produced an alignment and they became connected, no matter the distance.

She kept her eyes closed, mediating with the exception of her left arm, stretched out to a notebook where she held a pen. Her hand began to slowly, transcribing a message that she couldn't know. Not yet, anyway, as this part of the process required her to give up control and will to her other half. The sound of the scraping pen became a temptation and yet she would not dare to budge. Not until she was sure the message was complete.

The sound of writing ceased and Ysilla kept her mind focused on the two metronomes but she could see and hear them turning out of tune again. The connection was lost and whatever she attempted to scry, it was over. Opening her eyes, Ysilla glanced down, first at the single metronome in front of her. The needle and mechanisms idly ticking away. She turned from that to her notebook that now had the message she had scried.

Sister.
Preserve.

Pitiful. Even with her more ingenious discovery of utilizing chemical magic to share memories and vision, it was still not enough to overcome the issue of range. There was so much she still had to learn. This feat shouldn’t be impossible. The Tethered children are a testament to the extent of magic. Though they had just immense power capable and there was nothing clever about using brute force. What more could she add to extend her range?

—

Camels.

Ysilla felt a tinge of disappointment not seeing the horses were present. Fiorella, in particular. She didn’t know much about animals but it was obvious the camel was the beast of the desert. So why keep the horses? A worthless line of thought that she discarded as she approached her camel. It, like the horses, did not appreciate her. This camel gurled and flapped its lips and tongue in distress constantly. Ysilla wasn’t even doing anything, just watching it, as it made disgusting guttural noises. It wasn’t as jumpy as the horse so she decided to try her luck.

Mounting the beast took effort but she managed, picking herself and steadying with a little help from Magnetic magic. She didn’t ride and her position in the saddle obviously looked awkward. Yet away they went, on a journey to stop aberrations.

Halassa were a non-factor. The ones they faced last night were a fair enough scale to determine what a sane creature of this species could do if they really wanted you. These ones were scared off easily enough. The Rhinodon was intimidating, requiring a touch of Ysilla’s magnetic pull to usher her camel along to safety, as well as preventing her from falling off. Her camel, whatever name they gave it, whined ungratefully for the help but that would only mean Ysilla would never offer this beast a carrot.

A sandstorm rolled in and they had to cover some ruins in a cave. Initially, Ysilla was curious enough to wander but she didn’t manage it for long. Her joints felt stiff, movement sluggish, and her mind blurred with a void of thought. The curiosity she had felt faded rapidly and she quietly slid down to prop herself up against one of the pillars away from the group. Whatever relief she felt from her synchronization earlier had expired. She had to link again but even the knowledge of how to set it up felt like a fading memory. It was hastily constructed and the metronome’s tick provided a soothing relief. She couldn’t hear the second one, however, and her left hand sat still.

—

The rest of the voyage was a blur, at best. Ysilla was there, she knew it, but it all felt very distant. The sense of urgency and worry about the dangers felt.. Distant. In fact, Ysilla couldn’t really feel anything at all. There was no terror in her mind as the froabasses rained down in a violent terror. The guards and creatures in the area are being ripped apart in a feast of rabid violence. There was only the directive. Sister. Preserve.

Ysilla’s camel spurred in a rush throwing the puppeteer from her mount. She shot herself up with magic and withdrew Khamsei from her back. The doll laughed as it floated in between her hands, one last laugh before cracks along his porcelain flesh began and quickly spread. One last Ha echoed as the doll was shattered into sharpened shards. Projectiles that were now turned against any frobasses that dived for Zarina or Ysilla, herself.

Sister, first. Preservation, second.

The porcelain shards were not lethal but flung at high speeds in between her hands ensured they would pierce the wyvern hide. While covering her sister, Ysilla had let one of the beasts slip by, the mouth of the creature taking a hold of right shoulder, teeth sinking in with the creatures wild thrashing mangling her flesh.

She made no noise. Only did what she had to. Hoopoe flew out from under Ysilla’s hat and darted her beak into the eye of the creature. The frobass pulled away, snapping at the wooden crow but Hoopoe would prove just as violent as the creature was with her creator. Vicious pecks, talons ripping, and thrashing made the battle a mangled mess of one-sided gore. Hoopoe would slaughter the creature just before the pull of a great magical draw would occur. Ysilla fell back, sliding against the rock until she sat on the ground. Hoopoe watched, standing triumphantly on the carcass of the creature she slayed.

There would be no more as Jocasta performed a great feat of transporting all those creatures away. Ysilla did not feel it. She couldn’t but with her sister safe. She turned towards preservation.

Blood poured from her shoulder like wine, staining her almost porcelain like skin and the white cloth of her clothes and her transmodified white cape. She had to patch the wound and so Khamsei’s other purpose was put into use. The remaining porcelain was moulded in her hands like clay and she applied it across her wounds. The slight touch of chemical magic changing the material to match that of her skin and seal the wounds she had received.

She arose like nothing happened and did not spare a thought to the worsening situation of the wyrm consuming an aberration. With Khamsei consumed, Hoopoe mangled, and now Ysilla’s form fading, she wasn’t sure how much her vessel could offer.

She wasn’t even sure she could make the trip back but had the drive of her purposes pushing her forward. Sister. Preserve. She’d mindlessly follow the convoy as it limped back. The sight of the Refuge did not stir any recollection, like she had never been there. Memory was dying and short term memory was non-existent. This form remembered her sister and thus she had purpose to keep functioning but how long until she forgot Zarina?

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Wvysen is dead. It should've taken Penny like a gut punch. To some degree, it still struck her. Wvysen was the most inoffensive person she'd ever met: just a normal girl from a normal family who'd wanted to spend a normal year at school. And I just left her, too. That also wasn't strictly true, however. She'd tried to convince her now-deceased classmate that it was a bad idea, but her entreaty had fallen upon deaf ears. Wvysen had made her own poor decision.

The larger truth was just that death didn't affect Penny as much these days as it once had. She had watched dozens die during the attack on her father, some at her own hands. Anesin had died defending King Horik. The Perrenchwoman had fought for her life against abductors. She'd had her brain poisoned by chemical magic, her bones broken, and her skin burnt. She had killed to survive: at first out of pure defense and then much as she imagined a soldier would. Kill them before they kill you. The girl that she had been a month ago - kind, weak, and sheltered - would've recoiled at the actions of Penny Pellegrin but, had she remained that girl, she would've died. "I am... sorry that Wvysen is no longer with us," she said quietly. "I tried to convince her to follow me." That was all that she had to say. It was all that she could say.

Trypano continued, at length by her standards, and her Perrench counterpart heard a great many things. She became struck by the pointlessness of it all. One person or another sits on a throne and, either way, other people who don't sit on that throne fight and die. Why should she risk her life for them? On a purely selfish level, what in the five hells was in it for anyone who wasn't directly affected?

The problem was that, while there was little to nothing to gain for Penny Pellegrin, printer's daughter, there was a great deal at stake for Penelope of Perrence, fifth in line - by letter of law - for her nation's throne. Prospero Malatesta was a sworn enemy of Perrence. He had hounded and humiliated her father. His agents had worked diligently in the shadows to spread rumours of her family's 'curse' and those rumours had so influenced her parents that they had rejected her strange body and kept her hidden from the world for her first seventeen years of life. To strike a blow against such a man was to lessen the unrelenting threat that he posed to her well-being.

Then, everything happened at once. Trypano had taken the lamp and was testing it in some manner, finding it to be surprisingly mundane in nature. Ingrid and Desmond were on their way, landing ungracefully. Amelea arrived with considerably less disruption and Onarr... the distinct crackle of Temporal magic was fading from the air, he had disappeared completely, and there was a note tucked into her belt. It was all too much. She took out the note and read it.

---

<sub>Dear compatriots,

I’m afraid that duty has compelled me to return back to my homelands. Trouble has come onto my doorstep and I must confront what I tried to leave behind in my past. I wish you all fortune in your quest and may you become great mages.

May happenstance favor us to meet again in good tidings.

Onarr Yidlob.</sub>

---

Just like that, Penny's hardened shell cracked. Onarr... he'd been one of the first people she'd met, one of the first who'd impressed her and maybe even been impressed by her. They'd shared laughter and drinks and a sense of camaraderie and now... Why didn't you say anything? she wondered. I would've listened. I would've helped! Yet, Penny had only been helping herself as of late: conducting herself in a manner wholly unbefitting of the royalty that she was. She had been petulant, reckless, and self-centered, leaving her allies to die. Without consciously meaning to, she staggered a couple of steps back and sat on the gunwale. You didn't make a real effort to convince Wvysen. You saw her as a burden you didn't want to carry, so you left her alone with potentially hostile pirates. You didn't head back to the others immediately because you were too preoccupied with proving yourself. People died for your inferiority complex.

She realized that, of her original group of four, Anesin was dead, Onarr was gone, and Linah had been all-but pointedly avoiding her. Do I poison everything that I touch? Am I truly cursed to be beloved of Echeran? Penny could feel tears welling up in her eyes. No! she railed at them. Stupid weak girl!

Amelea was looking at her strangely and the Perrenchwoman did not have the energy for it. Dully, she remembered that they had met, as children: Penny, all of seven years old, during that brief period where Papa had come out from under Mama's thumb and tried to introduce her to the world; Amelia a thirteen-year-old exile from her home country, future uncertain, staying as a guest of the Perrench monarchy. "Your highness." The Segonese princess bowed her head slightly to the Perrench one, unknowingly outing Penny in front of her classmates. Something inside of her chest snapped and she responded as an automaton or puppet might, the invisible strings that had controlled her since her childhood returning. "Your highness." The secret, which had remained only among her closest friends - Yvette, Madeleine, and Carmille - to this point, was out and there was no sealing it back in.

If Penny Pellegrin was to give way to Penelope of Perrence, then the latter had best make her presence here meaningful. Further self-concern would not do. "I am who she says: Penelope of Perrence, daughter of King Rouis." Penny paused, and her eyes quickly took in the others. "It is in my best interest to strike a blow against Malatesta, for he has ever sought the ruin of my family and humiliation of my people. I have a clear motivation to support my fellow royal, but I would also pose her the question: what do each of the rest of us have to gain from siding with you? How would this benefit us beyond simple 'riches if we win' - riches that many of us possess or that can be readily manufactured at the Academy. I will risk my life for my own reasons, but I believe that our initiatives, as the ruling class, should burnish our people's quality of life, else they are just selfish and antithetical to our sacred duty. So, in short, I exhort you to be a better sort of royal - the sort that I haven't been but hope to be." She paused, regathering her thoughts. "I ask what you can offer my fellow students beyond an emotional and moral entreaty that is ultimately subjective."

Ismette had quietly appeared aboard during the intervening moments and now turned to Amelea expectantly. The princess took a step back, her eyes darting about the group. They flashed challengingly in Penny's direction. She flipped some hair over her shoulder. "I can promise that Segona will forever be a safe harbour for you and yours," she began. "I can promise to share whatever spoils are ours fairly." Amelea shrugged. "Beyond that, I promise nothing and, instead, ask you a pair of questions. First: why is it that something subjective - a thing that makes people think and feel as opposed to simply answering with a 'fact' - less valuable? It is feelings and opinions that move us to do what we do, not only the facts that they are linked to. Second, and in that vein: why are you here? Unless Ersand'Enise has changed greatly from what I've heard, I doubt that any of you were forced to come. You all volunteered at some point, either for the sake of some personal gain - which you shall receive - or, perhaps, because you wanted to have a positive impact on the world." She was pacing now. "Some agency," she concluded, nodding. "Well, you can make life better for a great many people in Segona because I am a better person to sit that throne than Prospero Malatesta. I am of those people: born and raised among them, and I know their voices and their concerns in a way that some foreign despot who visits twice per year cannot. the Doge views Segona and those who live there as simply another jewel on his crown, another resource to be used in pursuit of some grand design." She turned to them, eyes pained. "To lead my country, my people, is all that I was raised with. To see them thrive is my most sacred duty, by Dami, I swear it. I beg of you to help me set the world right - at least, the one small part of it that is my prerogative - to stop a tyrant from encroaching further, from imposing his will upon more people." She was quite worked up, it seemed. Her chest heaved as she came down from it. "That is all I can say. You are swayed or you are not."

Penny regarded her fellow royal - albeit one who was actually queen uncrowned - and felt something stir inside of her chest. She had come across as cynical, perhaps. She wasn't certain, but she found herself nodding towards the end. "I was perhaps too harsh with you, Amelea," she admitted, remembering the decency that the elder princess had treated her with some ten years prior. "and for that, I apologize, but we've little time to discuss." She pivoted to take in the others. "The Nera was having her hull cleaned in the sea cavern, but I was unable to damage her and she will surely be underway by now and headed our direction. Between our three vessels, we have the flexibility and firepower to overwhelm her. Those of us who are joining the fight had best confer with Captain Falzon and set sail. Ideas are very welcome." Indeed, he was headed over for just such a purpose at present, his skiff drawing close. "Those of you who are not-" Penny cocked her head to one side. "-Kindly remove yourselves and only yourselves from the deck of my ship."

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Zarra was unfortunately rather slow at reacting to anything that was going on, the sheer satisfaction at hitting his enemy in the nards had gotten a little in his head, and he was distracted more of how weirdly satisfying it was. The scream did however catch him rather off-guard, enough that he nearly tripped on his backstep, his coordination still a little off from the strange flash-bang like experience a moment ago. He unfortunately didn't even notice the whole situation with Leon until Carm and the Arcanists are chasing after him. Zarra fortunately glimpses Leon throwing the lyre into the crowd. Zarra sees this instantly as his chance to be the hero, by saving the lyre. Simply go through them, but his thought process is cut off from Manfred's very sudden but serious statement.

"Leave her defenseless again, you will die."

Zarra gives Manfred an incredulous stare, who is he even talking about? Is he referring to Dorothea? Did they not agree to find ways to handle the riot? By stopping the boat, he's cleverly preventing it from spreading to land, stopping both authorities and other rioters. Zarra snaps Manfred's head off hard from tone of voice alone. While it's not exactly intimidating being that Zarra is likely the same weight Manfred benchpressed to get into basic training, there's absolute distinct sound of instant disregard in his voice.

"Carmilla is the one who was with Dorothea last, blame her, not me. If anything, should've you have stayed with her, if she means so much to you? Don't threaten others for your failings." He doesn't seem to grasp at first that Carm defending Dorothea is a laughable assumption.

If holier than thou attitude could smell, Zarra could gas bomb the ship. What caused him to develop such an attitude towards conflict in the first place? Is it misplaced pride, a sadistic verbal nature, or genuinely and angrily believes he is not at fault for the fate of Dorothea? Zarra, deciding one more disrespect, he turns around, knowing that stonewalling and getting the final word is an extremely powerful tool in terms of getting under another's skin. Being the literalist he is, Zarra sits by the unconscious Dorothea, refusing to look at any other student and only the mess going down at the end of the halls.

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The battle against the Traveler Agents had pretty much ended, perhaps unsurprisingly, in the defeat of the agents. The odds were not in their favor after all, considering that they had to fight against five with only two people on their side. Thus for now the threats that they represented seemed safe to ignore as Zealous lied dead, Evanescence severely injured and unconscious from Hilde's explosion, and Forceful knocked out from the kick to his lineage preserving nuts by Zarra and the kinetic strike Eun-Ji applied on him afterwards. Now, the focus of the action had shifted to the performance of Leon Solaire who emerged from the Cargo Hold as identical triplets each holding a seeming copy of the much hallowed Lyre of Ipte.

With purpose and the self-interest that had always strongly motivated herself, Carmillia moved first during the brief moment of confusion that was followed by their seeming Arcane Mage allies starting to move to chase Leon. Even before Hilde ordered a chase of the famed performer, Carmillia already moved to chase after him by her own initiative; one whom motivations were likely misunderstood by the Arcane Mages who still thought of her as their allies. She caught up and then attempted to grab the shoulders of the three Leons, only to found out that she phased right through them, her hands catching nothing but air. Fortunately, whatever magic it was that Leon had used to make three copies of himself did not come trapped like she worried of, it merely made her stumble slightly from the momentum as the three Leons continued on and on. She then saw as the Leons suddenly accelerated and moved significantly quicker as they reached the middle of the narrow passage to the back of the ship. Just as suddenly, the three Leons briefly looked back while smiling mischievously at Carmillia and the others who were chasing them.

All the while, a figure stood in the doorway leading to the Entertainment Lounge. It was yet again another Leon and he shouted to the fighting crowd inside the lounge in deepened voice; all the while the three other Leons were still moving through the narrow passage towards him. “Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare to be amazed! By the one, the only, Leon Solaire!”. Some of the crowd seemed to stop fighting as their attention was taken by the performer... And then, nothing more. Nothing, as the three Leons caught up to the fourth and they all converged and merged. The four Leons were then the one and only Leon Solaire once more.

More and more of the crowd stopped fighting, many confused and dumbfounded. One, a burly and likely drunk man with a blackened left eye, pointed at Leon with a big goofy smile on his face as if he wasn't just in a fisticuff a few seconds ago. "Heeeey, it's Leon Solaire! This the show I heard you promising, good man?"

He received no verbal answer from the man himself, instead getting a greeting towards him and the others in the crowd in the form of the performer's raised arms. Indeed, the drunk man was about to get the show that Leon had promised; he'll be right in the midst of it even, as several things happened in quick successions: Cluster of marbles apparating on the ground and then another cluster rising into Leon's right hand. A beautiful Lyre thrown from the performer's left hand at unnatural speed and against the laws of physics. Yet another Leon appearing from the left exit of the lounge, moving at unnatural speed and unusual movement pattern, heading for the first Leon. And then the two Leons bowed, their movement speed not synchronized but finishing at the same time anyhow, and all these were finished with an explosion of light and loud noises that covered much of the lounge as the bowing Leons disappeared from sight.

And thus unbeknownst to the other actors involved in the affair of the Lyre, Leon started to rest mercifully undisturbed in the relative safety of the Covered Verandah. For now.

At the same time as when Carmillia overtook the rather slow and overweight Jens Becker in her chase of the three Leons, Manfred also ended up doing something to the poor, unsuspecting Arcanist. Following his threat and admonishing of Zarra, he put his gift to good use by slamming a heavy metal cap from a fallen chandelier to the back of the heavily-built man. The man didn't even have any time except to let out a brief yelp of surprise as he suddenly stopped in his track, wobbled forward a few more steps, and then fell stomach first to the ground from the heavy concussion. It is hard to tell whether the strike had killed him or, as Manfred hoped and if Escheran truly willed it, merely unconscious. Even in the case of the latter, the man might just have to live with a reduced brain capacity... Regardless, Manfred did not stop to check on him as he moved on to follow after Carmillia and Leon.

He was standing a few meters behind Carmillia in the narrow passage leading to the Entertainment Lounge when he also witnessed what Carmillia had seen: Leon performing the finale of his show and then once more disappearing without a trace.

Perhaps it was out of a sense of urgency or perhaps it was because he trusted that a certain ally will have his back, but Manfred indeed did not linger long after taking out Jens Becker. He also did not take heed of the other Arcanist that had witnessed what happened to her ally. Hilde Arnsberg von Regensbach let out a gasp as she saw Jens Becker took to the floor after his head was bashed in with the heavy metal cap. She quickly turned her gaze toward Manfred, surmising correctly that it was the young Kerreman soldier who had performed the deed. She and her now fallen comrade had the disadvantage of not truly knowing exactly who were on which side. Regardless, she did not hesitate as she raised her hand in the direction of the Magusjaeger, ready to unleash her fury on him...

Zarra had moved to the corridor, sitting by the unconscious Dory. He was in a foul mood after Manfred had threatened him earlier, and he refused to look at any of his fellow students. His focus was entirely on to the scene happening about 25 meters away from where he sat. He could not really tell for certain that the figure standing at the doorway to the Entertainment Lounge was that of Leon Solaire, and from his location, his line of sight was somewhat blocked to the fact that at that time there were still the three other Leons moving through the narrow passage toward the fourth Leon. What was without doubt was that he was within range to hear of Hilde's gasp of surprise after Jens Becker was floored, but due to his own tunnel focus he did not perceive that the Arcanist was about to attack Manfred.

But even if he had noticed it, would he have moved to help Manfred and stop Hilde considering how angered he was at Manfred? Likely not. Indeed, it was not Zarra that ended up performing a chokehold from behind against the middle-aged Feskan woman.

Eun-Ji had stood calmly in place even after Hilde sounded off the alarm to chase after Leon. She believed in Leon, believed that the Lyre will be safe in his hands. She knew that it was not Leon that she had to keep her eyes on but the Arcane Mages that had became their temporary allies in an uneasy alliance; the alliance that seemed to be at its end. She looked on as Manfred took out one of these short-term allies, her body and mind already prepared to do what she need to upon witnessing the act. In an instant and without hesitation, the Skyborn used her gift to propel herself forward. Like a human cannonball, she tackled Hilde as she was about to attack Manfred, knocking Hilde's breaths out of her. Without skipping any beat, her arms were then on the older woman's neck, and a few moments later Hilde Arnsberg von Regensbach joined her comrade in a blissful yet forced embrace of slumber. At least for the middle-aged Feskan woman, hers was without a doubt fortunately going to be a temporary slumber.

Eun-Ji said nothing as she let go of Hilde's motionless, insensate body. Briefly, she looked back at Zarra sitting on the ground beside the unconscious Dory. She was about to turn around to catch up to Manfred and Carmillia when she noticed her fellow student starting to stir; something that Zarra would also notice due to his very close proximity to Dory.

Excellent timing. She mulled in her mind as she calmly moved towards Dory and Zarra and then crouched in front of the former. In Eun-Ji's mind, it was really high time that they all regroup. The cost for splitting up and letting certain members of the group to do their own things had been frankly unacceptable; but perhaps they might still be able to salvage the situation if they start to actually work together as a team. A good degree of team work was the basic of every successful operations that she had went to as a Lotus Sentry, after all, and the same should apply with this ragtag group of biros.

Dory can feel a hand on her left shoulder as she started to stir awake. "Ms. Hohnstein, you're awake. How are you feeling?" It was not an unfamiliar voice to her, although the young Feskan woman was understandable still in a haze considering the rude manner upon which she were induced into unconsciousness by her new lover earlier. She would quickly notice that things around her had suddenly changed considerably, and that she were now lying on the ground with Zarra sitting beside her and Eun-Ji crouched on one knee in front of her. Her gun was no longer in her grasp; it was somewhere around for sure but she would have to search for it.

The one other thing she can remember was that she had attempted to shoot Carmillia, and then was knocked out from behind before she can do so by someone who cannot be anyone else but Manfred.

---

Meanwhile, the situation aboard the Lorentine Queen had truly turned for the worse. Fighting had spread to nearly all parts of the ship now, including in the now unguarded section where the vital machinery of the ship were housed in. Things were being thrown around and broken all over the ship, passengers had been thrown overboard, some in a state of lifelessness. At the current rate, it was very likely that the Lorentine Queen will be sunk before the end of the night, and only a quick and decisive action to stop the chaos will be able to prevent that. Otherwise, this will truly become the Last Voyage of the Lorentine Queen. Many lives will undoubtedly be lost and the massive crocodilian species that is only found around the Lorentine river and its estuary, the schluckodil, will likely be having the human flesh that they were quite fond of for dinner...

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Nobody would've seen her from where they were. Marceline was behind her. The camel's head blocked the others. They would not have seen the fear that slipped through Jocasta's mask of very real exhaustion. They would not have noticed her pawing at her lower midsection with a sort of resigned desperation. She was, though. Another piece of myself, she thought dully, lost for good. The numbness had risen, another centimeter or so past her hips, and more of Jocasta or Consuela or whoever she'd been before that was gone. Why had she done it? She'd overdrawn - the worst possible thing for a Tethered - to save people she hadn't even known twenty-five hours ago. She'd taken months off of her already-shortened life for them. Yet... a lot could change in a day. She knew it better than most. People who'd meant everything to you could become part of the past. People you'd never even met could become part of your future.

Yet, now, Bitch was stealing hooded glances back at her and whispering in the ear of Ayla, foolishly unaware that a trained assassin would notice and that it was second nature for Jocasta to play harmless in whatever form was open to her. You, I should've let be froabas food, she thought darkly. Zarina would always be an implacable enemy, she decided then and there. One out of five wouldn't be too bad, would it? Yalen, too, had said not a word, but he'd been looking. Inwardly, the Tethered shook her head. One day, it had been. She'd gotten carried away. These were not friends, and they never would be. Some were good people, she allowed, and would help in this undertaking so long as they did not truly know her, but only a fool gives of herself for others: only a fool, unless there is something in it for her. There was not. This had all merely been some diverting attempt to play-act at being a 'normal' teenager.

Jocasta took a handful of deep, steadying breaths and Marceline twisted to look at her concernedly. "Sister?" she asked in a quiet voice. "Sister," the older girl responded.

"Are you alright?"

"I was not," Jocasta admitted. "Now, I am."

"That sounds... anomynous."

"Ominous, Marci."

"Ominous."

"And it isn't," the Dorvalishwoman assured her. "Most of these aren't bad people. I think they'll even help us. They're..." she trailed off for a moment. "Just not friends: not people we trust with our deepest secrets, alright?"

There was a bit too long of a pause. Jocasta had been deadening the air to sound, subtly enough that it would be difficult to even sense. "Sister, you haven't said anything about Father, right?"

"Never, on my life!"

"Shhhh, Marci."

"Sorry, Sister."

"It's alright. I'm glad I have you." Jocasta leaned forward, hesitant for a moment, wondering how much she would feel the loss of a bit of core strength. She rested her chin on the teenager's shoulder and smiled. "Besides, they heard nothing."

---

The remainder of the ride back was uneventful: silent and filled with anxiety. The Wyrm had swallowed the aberration and everybody knew, at least in broad strokes, what that meant. People rationed words and water alike, the sun glared at them in hues of orangish-pink, and froabases started to circle overhead as it pulled itself under a blanket of sand.

In the event, the animals did not attack. If they had, perhaps Jocasta would've seen to the tragic loss of a tall Virangish girl. Not truly, though, she told herself, for it would hurt the others, and that was no longer something that she could bring herself to do. She sat up and made a show of rolling her neck back and forth as they neared the Refuge. Its lights burned, yellowed orange, into the burgeoning twilight: a beacon of light and warmth to those who didn't understand the poison that flowed through its halls.

The gates creaked open and men with torches and wary eyes ushered them in. The crowd was smaller than the night previous, made up less of curious children - though there were still many - than of teens and young adults 'on three' or 'on two'. There was an anxiousness. They had either sensed it or Marci had sent them a message. "Did you find it?" they shouted. "Is it headed here?" one pleaded. "Did you stop it?" another begged. Yes, yes, and no, Jocasta thought, as further entreaties poured in. And you had the gall to tell us that these people knew nothing, she thought at Warden Ortega, wherever he was.

The guards ushered the crowd away much more aggressively than before and it was an effort not to say something. It was an effort, too, when they did not place her wheeled-chair beside the camel. The others dismounted easily enough, even Yalen managing after a fashion. Jocasta shot him a concerned look and a little push of Kinetic energy to free his foot brace from the stirrup as it became momentarily caught. She flashed a shy smile and, when a couple of guards approached to help her down, the twenty-year-old heaved herself to the side, gathered the gravity from her fall, and hovered in place, floating over the wheeled-chair and settling into it.

Everyone else stood around for a moment, Ysilla looking... less than right. They had spoken so little to each other and, for some reason, that set off alarm bells in Jocasta's mind. Kaspar, who had suffered the whole way through, appeared relieved. Yalen was adjusting his braces, and Zarina hovered momentarily close to Ayla. Marci was leaning against a camel, retrieving her crutches. Escarra was solemn, like he usually was. A cardinal showed up and handed him a message. "Don Escarra," she said, "Don Ortega requests your immediate presence." But not ours, Jocasta mused. With a nod and a scowl, the head ranger brushed past and stalked down the hallway, saving a brief look back for his companions.

A trio of magpies were there too, as pigeons saw their animals off. "As the hour grows late," said the most senior of the three, "We would like to offer you a belated supper if you are hungry." He bowed his head. "It can be delivered to your rooms, if you would like, where a warm bath is being prepared presently."

Jocasta bowed her head in return. "That would be greatly app-appreciated, caretaker. Should the warden need anything of us, l-let him know that we eagerly await his call."

"The warden wishes you nothing but a sound sleep. Matters of import will be discussed on the morrow, over breakfast. Now," the man in the monastic cut robe concluded, clapping his hands together in a manner reminiscent of the warden, "if you would be so kind as to follow us..." He trailed off, gesturing in the direction of his fellow magpies.

"Caretaker Herrera," Marceline offered, "I don't mind leading them. I'm sure you have many more pressing matters to attend to."

"Thank you, Marcelina," said the caretaker in a kindly, patient voice, "but these orders come from the warden himself. He also wishes you an early and sound sleep."

The look was so quick that perhaps some among the group of young people may have missed it, but Jocasta noticed. Essentially, it said, 'obey... for now.'

So, that was what Jocasta did, good obedient girl that she was. She returned to her room, removed the soporifics from her dinner with a bit of Chemical magic, and did the same for her peers, however secretly. The food was almost always drugged. She ate and took her bath, using the Gift to speed things up and dry her hair. Forty minutes had passed by the time that she rolled silently out into the colonnade and closed her door behind herself with a soft 'click'. She was not alone. Kaspar was there and their eyes met. They gathered the others and then Jocasta put hands to wheels and led the way almost wordlessly to the Red Tower. "Guards," she said, partway through their journey, ducking around a corner and pulling on the tendrils of light around her to fade into the night. She let the cardinals pass before reappearing. Up ahead, from the shadow of a pillar, emerged Marceline. Smaller and less certain than the older teens, she glanced their way as if for reassurance.

The eldest of the group stopped in front of her, eyes darting around warily. "You got away clean, chiquita?"

Marci nodded. "I checked. Don't worry."

"Not even for a second." Jocasta smiled. Backing up a push, she took in the others. "We can get there slowly," she whispered, "through locked gates and doors, or quickly." She reached out again for the threads of time and space, hands of energy raveling and unraveling them. Hundreds of boys and girls flashed by in time's memory: a young Amanda, a little Marceline, and a nine-year-old version of herself, but many more that she did not know. The great orange tree shifted between sapling and elder. Staff changed. She gained visions of the stables, the pool, the secret training grounds, and the Warden's office. Ortega was there with Escarra. The two men looked tense. Then, her mind's eye was in the Torre de la Soledad. It flipped through a dozen dying souls and found Amanda. A tear in spacetime - not so grand and stable as the paradigm's, but just as functional - opened, and Jocasta let out a breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding. "'W-will you walk into my parlour?' said the s-spider to the fly," she asked, rolling through with a teasing smile and a glance back.

There on her bed, leaning cross-legged against a corner, was the slender figure of Amanda. Her room was lit by an oil lantern and a candle. Moonlight streamed in through a small window. As Jocasta entered, a large smile creased the older woman's lips. The palms of her hands, which lay open on her lap, lit up with an arcane glow. "Hello... Jocasta," she said softly, her eyes going to the others, "I take it you're the friends that she mentioned."

Jocasta nodded, coming to a stop. "I see your powers of deduction remain strong."

Amanda smiled and let out a little snort. "Ah!" she chirped, "and Marci!"

"And Marci."

"I'm not a friend?" the girl protested.

"You're much better than a friend, mija. Come here and sit beside me."

Marci more or less threw herself onto the bed, snuggling delicately into Amanda's side, for just a moment so utterly unlike the precocious girl they'd gotten to know to this point. "Mom," she said softly, laying her head on the older woman's shoulder. She grinned. "Hey, isn't it past your bedtime?" Amanda planted a small kiss on the top of it. "Isn't it past yours, precious little pumpkin?"

"You're laying it on really thick," Marci whined, but her mother was already looking out at the others. "The expedition was a proper disaster, I trust?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "We have a giant, angry dragon headed our way?" She tilted her head to the side momentarily.

Marceline, beside her, nodded glumly. A limp-wristed hand reached up to stroke her hair. "Don't worry, little pumpkin." The girl flashed her a stink-eye, but Amanda was looking at the others. "There is much to worry about, of course, for all of us, but I think I know how we can overcome this and, dare I say, a great many other problems." She pursed her lips, and the glow in her palms lit her face from below with a certain dramatic flare as her expression morphed into an enigmatic grin. "First, though, I imagine you've questions and ideas of your own and you've received precious few answers in this place. I have lived here thirty-one years and I'm an open book."

Leaning back on an ancient desk in the old Tourrare style, elbows propped against it, Jocasta pushed off. She tipped forward and her front wheels hit the round with a light 'clunk.' "For what it's worth," she offered, "so am I, and I used to live here too."

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The expedition had been a disaster. This, Manuel knew. The aberration had gone into a wyrm and it would attack the Refuge, sooner or later. If not, it would attack the town of Hosta.

He did not need Ortega's men to lead him to the Warden's chambers, but he said nothing and let them do their job. For some people, there was only duty. They left him at the door and he nodded his thanks.

"Manuel!" came a voice. "Come in!"

"Ortega," responded the ranger, pushing the door open and standing inside of it.

The warden's eyes went to the gap and Manuel quietly closed it behind himself. "I take it there were complications," he stated flatly.

"Froabasses," the ranger replied. "Stirred up by a wyrm trapped in the Devil's Throat."

"And that wyrm: it ate the aberration, no?"

Manuel nodded. Tavio knew these things, of course, so if he was asking for them anyhow, it was not good.

The warden nodded slowly, as if processing it. "And you lost two rangers and six camels."

"We did," the ranger confirmed. "Eshiran have mercy."

"Half of my camels, Escarra, and two of my rangers," the warden said tensely.

There it was. Escarra merely nodded. "We did what we could with what we had."

"And now a crazed beast is out in the wastes, headed here."

"Or for the town."

"You were supposed to get rid of the aberration, cabron! Get the kids to absorb it. Dios mio! You had one job!"

Manuel would risk his life - that was his job - but he would not risk those of children, even if they were almost grown. He shook his head. "I judged it was too much for them. They would've gone mad."

"A tragedy, to be certain, but the sacrifice of a few for the survival of many..." The warden's mouth was making sounds that Manuel Escarra did not like. "Surely, even you can see the necessity in that."

"And if they go mad, are they not a danger?"

"If they glow with that much energy, the wyrm will eat them."

Simple, thought Escarra. The wyrm will eat them. His expression showed only a hint of his disdain. "I did not come here to kill children, Tavio."

The warden waved his hand dismissively, stepping around his desk. "Oh, don't act so holy, Manuel, you know what we do here. You know what the duke would find if he sent his people to the Refuge to save us. Besides, we both know the only reason you're here, and that will be gone in a year, two at most."

A hot surge of anger threatened to spill past the ranger's steely surface. Amanda: my lucky Clover. She was all that he had left of Armida, and she was near the end. It pained him, these days, to see her as she was. Yet, this gilipollas didn't know about Marceline and the girl herself didn't know that Manuel knew. He sidestepped the barb. "Why not call the king?" he advised simply.

"And have us be a bother?" The warden shook his head. "We are allowed to operate only so long as we are a benefit and not a drawback for his majesty, and you may not know his misgivings like I do, but they are a growing problem. We'd best stay out of sight and mind."

The Torraro, who had long ago taken this land from Manuel's people, who had made his family change their names and forget their mother tongue, were unscrupulous people, but very few more so than Tavio Ortega. Escarra scowled. "So then we teach our people how to fight back," he said hopefully. "They can handle it from much further than any of us."

The warden merely looked at him incredulously. "Have you truly lost your wits, man?" Eyes narrowed in reproach, he shook his head. "I know you have a sweet spot for that girl of yours, but do you have no regard for your life? For that of anyone here?"

"We teach some already."

"Handpicked! Biddable, desperate, obedient!"

Manuel already knew these things. He had worked here thirty-one years. Nonetheless, disgust welled up inside of him hearing them spoken aloud. "We teach other children who are not Tethered. All temperaments."

"Eejit!" the warden snarled. "Truly, you are not here because of your smarts, but do you hear yourself!?" Ortega shook his head. "Those children cannot kill you in your sleep, undetectably, from miles away."

Escarra blinked. "Why would a child wish to kill you in your sleep unless you have harmed her?"

"We do what is necessary," Ortega hissed. He stabbed the air with his pointer, skewering the ranger. "And you do too. Remember Joaquin? How you kept your mouth shut? And the many, many others!?"

"I did what I was told."

"Not by me. I try to make these poor lost souls' lives comfortable! Sometimes, that requires sacrifices. Sometimes, it isn't beautiful and the less that they know, the better!"

"Dami, Tavio!" Escarra let it boil forth now. "They could be people! They could have lives to live! Do you know how sad their existence is here?"

"That is a choice their families make. I only do what I can with the cards I am given."

"Well, you don't have enough cards for the wyrm now, do you?"

Ortega nodded tightly, jaw clenched, and there was a glimmer in his eye that Escarra did not like. "The students: how many froabasses did they take on?" he prodded. "I know the Devil's Throat. When they come, they come by the dozen. Those kids are strong. Use them, add a few of our Afortunados... we have a chance."

Manuel shook his head. "Precious little."

"If they die, it is sad, but then the school will send a few Zenos or even an Arch if we are lucky. They are being paid, after all."

"A devil's bargain," the ranger spat, "And an unnecessary sacrifice."

"So long as I am warden, I will be the judge of that."

"A fancy hat does not make you Dami in your judgement." They were standing face to face now, no more than a couple of feet apart.

"You know," said Ortega, "You are forgetting awful quickly all that I do for you, morisco. I wonder what might happen to your Amanda if you did not work for me." He loomed over the shorter man, but Manuel did not flinch. "And her Marceline." He paused. "Marcelina."

It hit the ranger like a bucket of ice water.

"Oh, come on. You think I didn't notice how much you favour her?" Ortega shook his head. "I didn't wonder why you pushed so hard for her to be chosen as Afortunado?" His voice dripped with disdain: the sort that people like him had always held for people like Manuel. "This is why I do the thinking, Escarra. It is why I am Ipte, Shune, Oraff, Eshiran, and fucking Dami here. Comprende?"

"You are not wiser, Ortega. You are a bastard, sending these kids to their deaths so you may hide your filthy secrets and continue to pad your pockets."

"Oh, no no. The money is nice, Manuel, but that is not why I do this. I am protecting these kids from the world out there and, more importantly, I am protecting the world from them. You have to crack some eggs to make an omelette."

The ranger stood there, glaring unflinchingly. He had never cared much for Ortega, even back before the man had become warden, when he was just a spoiled baron's son. He had not expected their meeting to go this badly, however. Amanda was in danger, and not only her. So was Marci.

"What are you going to do, huh?" the noble mocked. "The answer is nothing, dog. Now go. Run along to you little kennel. I will call you tomorrow, when I need you."

Escarra bit his tongue, willing himself to say nothing. He began to turn.

"Oh, and if you even think of doing anything to betray me," Ortega added. "I want you to consider your family first, hmm?"

The ranger's hand settled on the hilt of his sword. In one smooth motion, he drew it, whirled, and sunk it into Tavio Ortega's chest. The warden's eyes widened, flicking in pain and disbelief from Manuel's to the sword and back. Escarra had never had much of the Gift, but he had enough to sense the Kinetic shove coming and brace himself. Weak and desperate, it sent him sprawling across the floor, but he landed as if he were a man twenty years younger. Ortega fell to his knees, opening his mouth to scream, and Manuel scrambled to stop him, clasping a hand over the lower half of the man's face and holding it there while he struggled ineffectually. The ranger's head pounded and his vision blurred and he knew it for Chemical magic, but then it eased off and the warden ceased struggling.

Manuel's pulse thundered in his eardrums. This was not something that could be undone. He had killed Tavio Ortega. He had done it because he judged the threat to his family, the people of this Refuge, and a half-dozen near-strangers too great had the warden remained alive.

Gods forgive me, he thought, pulling the sword from his master's body. Already, the blood was spreading. He rushed to a linen cabinet for the servants and tossed the extra tablecloths on the floor to soak everything up. The body, he dragged from the office to the dressing room and then through to the bedchamber, where he dumped it unceremoniously. Checking himself in the mirror, Manuel rolled up his sleeves to cover the bloodstains. He dabbed at the blood, stuffed a thick kerchief where it had stained his shirt, and adjusted his jacket so that it would not show.

This was it, then. It was now or never for the crazy idea that Amanda had put to him. Manuel composed himself and stepped out of the warden's office. He strode down the hall, like he had a hundred times before, stopping before the stairs where a servant waited. "Don Ortega has retired to his chambers for the night," he advised, "and does not wish to be disturbed until he calls for someone."

The servant - Zavada - nodded and bowed slightly. "As you command, Don Escarra."

Manuel nodded in return, already making haste down the stairs and the hallway. He burst out into the cool night air, accompanied by the chirp of crickets and the ping and pop of crane flies diving at torches and oil lamps. His eyes seized upon a distinctive red-walled tower and his feet carried him in that direction.

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Location: Isla d'Amato's waters upon the Flamant Royal

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Interactions: Trypano @A Lowly Wretch, Ingrid @dragonpiece, Amelea, Penny, and Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora @Force and Fury

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When Desmond looked to Ingrid to see if she was okay. he realized that she had very little clothing. To the point he saw somethings that he did not expect. As Ingrid got up, it took just a quick moment longer than normal for Desmond to stand himself back up. Just a mere second, but to Desmond he was lost in thought, no, more that he had no thoughts. Yet Desmond flickers back to his senses as he rises from his spot as he beginnings to fix himself. His shirt and pants rode up, and his pocket seems…to hold a note. He looked to it as it seemed to have been from Onarr, he winced slightly as he read it, 'Fucking really? In the middle of this?'

Desmond sighed as he finished adjusting himself and heard Amelea land onto the ship and said the craziest thing of the day. 'Penny is a royal? Oh fuck, I fucked up hard, shit, I told her to take a risk and go to the Revidians. I thought it would have been okay because they had someone who knew the language very well and they could woo Nerio if need be. Oh fuck, I pray she doesn't hold it against me. Oh I'm fucking dead, when we're out of here I'm dead. Desomnd had this inner monolouge yet it seemed Penny paid no mind to Desmond and what he did. It was what Amelea said that sparked something, why are you here.

Desmond was pulled from his initial thoughts as almost like a trigger word resounded through his mind. 'Why am I here? I was going to Ersand'Enise to learn magic. Why did I do that? My 'Family' wanted me to. Why did I accept the escorting of Horik by the school? Because I thought it would be interesting and could gain some favor. Why did I go up the tower? I was curious of what the message held. Why did I enter the room of Paradigm? Because I was interested to see what he was calling us for. Why did I accept the quest…'

Desmond could not produce an answer, he had no clue why he was here. He was not offered anything more than the possibility of something here. Desmond breathed out slowly, he knew he couldn't answer, he had no idea what the answer could be why he is here. 'To do good? I can't really do that anymore, can't right the wrongs I've done. Have some agency? I never had such a thing, and even now I don't. Personal wealth doesn't do much for me, I have as much as I need and want. So why?'. Desmond had no clue, he had no clue on why he was here, he found himself here yet has no clue what made him even want to do this. Obviously it was a dangerous mission. 'It does not matter now. It will not matter, you are here, complete the mission, the rest can come later'. He cleared his mind before they fully started talking. Thinking like that clouds the moment that is most important, the moment you pull the trigger. And at that moment, hesitation leads to you and everyone counting on you to die.

They made it back mostly intact. Well, except for two guards and half the camels. But the survivors weren’t particularly injured or distressed beyond Jocasta’s exertion from what Zarina could tell. The Virangish took it upon herself to tend to the animals once they had returned to one of the stables, making sure none were hurt and removing the load they were carrying while ensuring they were with food and water. On the side were multiple Tethered children curiously watching– a familiar sight to their first night here, although with less energy. Spirits weren’t as high.

Ayla went on to meet with Laella, and Zarina took notice of the same pre-teen boy that had approached her the other day. She recalled his name to be Abdel and wasn’t exactly appreciated by some of the staff. She gave him a knowing glance but didn’t do anything beyond manifesting her acknowledgement of his presence. The camels were first– they had done a lot of work– and he could wait a little bit.

He did take a step forward, potentially a little shy to take the initiative with such a tall and good looking girl, ”Are you a stable girl?” he asked somewhat sheepishly which prompted Zarina to raise an eyebrow while peering at his direction, ”Do I look like one?” she replied with a loaded question and a focused gaze that could be mistaken for a glare. She didn’t look particularly classy at this moment, being covered in bloodstains and sand, one could confuse her for just about anything. Abdel was wise to fumble with his words and not give an answer, ”Pass me the brush, Abdel.” the imaginary crisis had been averted, her eyes returned to the animal before her and her hand extended out in wait. Abdel smiled– she remembered his name.

With the brush in hand, the Virangish girl went on to clean some of the stains on the beast ridden by Jocasta and Marceline. There was an awkward silence– Abdel didn’t dare interrupt her, not when she looked as bloodied as she did. It didn’t take long, and soon she would be at his disposal, standing straight before the younger teenager with a hand on her hip and the opposite arm rested along her side, ”So, what’s u-” she paused, shifting her eyes from side to side, recalling that the walls did indeed have ears. She spoke in her mother tongue, instead, ”Did you need anything, Abdel?” she asked calmly, gaze peered downward and kept soft to not overwhelm the kid or make him feel scrutinised, ”I wanted to-” he reached for the same satchel he had the previous night, and Zarina cut him off when he made his intention clear, ”Yeah, that. Pass it here.” she stepped closer to him, shielding the item from the view of any potential onlooker.

The medallion was placed into her gesturing hand by a somewhat surprised Abdel and she looked into it. She had memorised the seal, but it was good to get some confirmation that one’s memory served well. Her thumb brushed over the symbol as she got quiet, feigning reflection even though she already had an answer, ”Okay.” she says in Avincian this one time. From this close, Abdel could definitely feel the not-so-pleasant odours of dried blood, sweat and dirt all mixed together, and yet he could also distinguish the unique lavender aroma that almost seemed natural to her, ”I know where this comes from.” she plainly answers, sliding the item back in the small bag for Abdel quickly enough before they’d get any unwanted attention, ”And I’ll tell you. In exchange for something.” she smirked.

Abdel squinted, rightfully suspicious of this proposition and teetering close to the same look of defiance he had given to one of the Refuge’s staff, ”... It’s just soap. And a book for the night. The nights here suck and I want something nice.” she relented on the teasing and just cut to the chase with what was a fairly simple ask to a resident like Abdel, ”O-oh. Yeah, I can do that.” Zarina interjects quickly, ”And a place to sit real quick. Saddles destroy ass, I tell you.” the kid couldn’t help but snort at that comment and nodded in agreement. A spark of hope lit up in his eyes and he got to work. Zarina almost felt bad for making him move with that cane of his, but then she realised he would use the gift to get most of the job done.

A nearby couch in a lounge was chosen for Zarina’s little break while Abdel made his way to the library to handpick a book himself. The gift was used to nab one of the better soaps used by the staffers, a soap that would fit nicely with the subtle smell he caught from Zarina’s figure. When the ingredients were gathered, the goods were offered, ”Shit, you’re fast.” Abdel grins, and even blushes a tad at the compliment from the clearly pleased older girl. She first smells the block of soap and happily fits it into her bag she dropped by the couch, ”The Marvellous Vagabond, Don Canas del Molino.” she read, a Torragonese book by the looks of it and quite a popular one, ”Fast, efficient and an intellectual~” she winked at the lad, adding fuel to the fire within as his heart beat a little faster, ”Thanks.”

She tapped by her, inviting the Tethered boy to join her. He sat normally, letting his cane lean against the couch’s arm and rested his hands over his knees, ”Are you … Happy?” Zarina was letting her side lean against the backrest, elbow just over it and supporting her cheek. Her golden gaze was fixed right on him as she stayed silent for a brief moment, ”Very.” she answers plainly, taking mild amusement at the subtle reactions that came from the poor boy. It was cute, ”And I’m a lady of my word.” she peers downward and muses for a moment. Abdel’s legs grow increasingly restless– he is eager to know the answer to what’s been working his mind for so long. As long as he can remember, actually.

”Every year I see that emblem. One of four, I think, that lead the pilgrimage to Inipor for the Annual Festival.” her features soften, her gaze vaguely directed toward the boy, ”House Bukhari. Imam Buhkari is particularly known in Northern Virang. I’ve attended a couple of his prayers.” she exhales from her nose while Abdel listens with great attention, ”Well-known? My family is … Important? Is he my dad?” clearly excited to get some answers, Zarina didn’t quite share that enthusiasm, ”I’d say they’re important. I don’t know if he’s your dad.” it looked as though there was more she wanted to say, but she kept it to herself.

Abdel had taken the medallion back out and stared right at it, clutching it close. For a moment he seemed happy, but as this newfound discovery mellowed in his mind, the unjust reality of it all hit the young teen’s sensitive mind. He started to clench the item, a squeeze tight enough to nearly break it. Zarina could feel it– his frustration and disappointment, ”And they were ashamed of me.” he said in a mumble. Zarina pursed her lips, knowing full well the signs of growing rage, and reached her hand out to his shoulder, ”They’re assholes.” she says with the driest of tones, ”They preach about you, y’know? The Tethered. How your bodies are bound to an endless dream.” she squeezed on his shoulder, and in turn his own grip on the medallion loosened.

”But that’s not enough to be accepted, is it?” he aggressively retorts, his eyes burning with an anger he had likely bottled up for a long time, but couldn’t quite articulate it nor have a direction to hurl it toward. Zarina exhales from her nose and keeps her body language open, letting her hand slide down his arm and just gently rest over his hand, ”They’re no different than anyone else, important or not.” she replies, eyes locked into the teen boy’s, ”Do you want to meet them?” she asked, but before he could answer out of emotion after hesitation, they’d be notified of the meeting at Amanda’s room, ”Raincheck,” she stands and uses her hand over his to help him up, ”don’t get too pissy over this. Most parents are total fucking assholes. Focus on getting through the next few days, then we’ll see what you feel and what you want, yeah?” she gives him a final expectant stare which he responds with a nod. He clearly was still distressed by this inevitable truth, and he likely knew it deep down, but now it was given form– a name.

As Ayla is at the stables, she finds the children eagerly coming to meet the group again, though the tales of excitement are more muted than their initial arrival. It is no surprise that Laëlle, the tall Miattanese girl, was in the crowd too. She approaches her with her arms wide to take her within for an embrace, then pushing her back gently with her hands placed upon her shoulders. "Now, what is your name?", the other girl with an embarrassed blush, “Laelle... It is Laelle”, "Laelle! That is better, be proud of who you are." as Ayla takes her in once again.

Zarina chuckled at the sight. Daoud the camel had to be tended to so she handled that while witnessing Ayla’s infinite affection be poured onto the poor kid, ”She’s always like that,” she reassured the Laella, ”just go with it. I promise this lion doesn’t bite.” she then shakes her head and snorts, letting the two get to know each other.

Ayla smiles widely as she playfully shushes towards Zarina, "Alchemist once told me that every time you hug someone, your body naturally produces a happy chemical. A free happy drug.”. She gives Laelle a grin, taking the girl by the arm as she moves towards the door of the Refúgio. ”A little Rolieiro told me that you are a sonic mage…”, Laelle looks puzzled, “We don’t tend to get birds, it was I who said...”, Ayla simply smiles, conscripting the girl, "Then you must play, we get your instrument".



Around the Naranja tree, the pair of them play for the small gathered audience of those who returned and those already in residence. They were offered refreshments in between playing their duets, free flowing and full of musical improvisation.

"By the Pentad, that was needed." Ayla leans back as she hears the relaxing sound of dripping water around the pool, chilling after the jam session with her new friend Laelle. “I never played like that before”, Laella smiling with her guitar, fingers lingering as they continue to idly pluck upon it, “I would love to travel the world playing like this, in every town and village, the new Leon Solaire!”. Ayla gasps loudly in a playful manner, getting a cushion and throwing it towards Laelle, "Is being the next Ayla not good enough for you?". Laelle squeals out as she was hit by the cushion, throwing it back ”But he plays the lute! Besides… he is far more famous than you.”, sticking her tongue out teasingly towards the other. Ayla smirks, "By chance, he attends my academy, and a thought occurred by introducing you to him… perhaps that was in error.", “No! Ayla, you are the coolest, please introduce me to him!”...

After curfew is called, Ayla travels with Jocasta, Marceline and the others to attend the meeting. She is now mentally refreshed and prepared for her presentation before Amanda, de facto leader of the Tethered at the Refúgio.

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Next: It is time to meet Amanda (for real)...

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Location: Yalen's temporary quarters

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Hmm? I thought something smelled strange about the food, but I guess it was just my imagination. Yalen poked at the bowl of gazpacho with his spoon cautiously. For a split second, his somewhat sensitive nose picked up an odd scent underneath the strong aroma of tomatoes and olive oil. When he took a spoonful into his mouth though, the soup tasted normal.

Dinnertime in Torragon was apparently a light affair, but Yalen wasn’t extremely hungry to begin with. It was refreshing to have something so easy to eat after being nauseated by exhaustion. When he was halfway finished with his soup, the blonde priest was interrupted by a gentle knocking on his door. He scooted out of his chair and went to answer, and was pleasantly surprised to see who his guest was.

”Hi mista Yawen!” It was Rita and her Segonese chaperone. The guardswoman’s face was beaded with sweat, as if she had been heavily exerting herself only moments ago.

”I apologize for the intrusion brother. The little one would not relent until I agreed to let her see you before curfew.” She looked down towards Rita, who was fidgeting with something behind her back. The energetic kid was unusually bashful for some reason.

“Um, um… this is… for you!” Rita forced something into Yalen’s pocket before dashing off with a blush around her ears.

”Rita!” ”Rita!” The two grownups cried out in unison. They shared a look with each other, and the woman put her face in her hand and sighed.

”What am I going to do with that girl? I have two dozen kids to watch over, yet every day it feels like my attention is focused exclusively on her. Forgive my rude interruption, I should have known you were having your meal. I better go make sure she’s properly heading for her quarters.” The guard gave Yalen a casual salute and began heading back out the door. It was strange that they’d met three times now but he still didn’t know her name. In the interest of getting to know the lady better, he called towards her.

”A minute please Senhora!” The guardswoman turned her head back towards Yalen. ”I forget my manners. Not once have I asked for your name. Would you do me this favor?”

”Talya.” She started walking back towards him again. ”Is something the matter Brother Castel?”

”Oh no, it’s nothing serious. I was wondering if you’d like some tea before you depart?”

”Um…” Talya raised an eyebrow at Yalen. He understood to an extent that his offer might be poorly timed, but he made the offer nonetheless. Having grown fond of Rita, he now felt compelled to learn a little more about the little girl’s chaperone.

”I suppose I am a little thirsty. I can’t stay long though. I will be on duty for a while yet.” Talya crossed the threshold of the doorway and entered Yalen’s quarters, taking a seat at the one table in the middle of the room. She unburdened herself by leaning her polearm against the wall behind her.

The room was quiet save for Yalen’s tampering with the cups and pot. He carefully shaved a few flakes off a lump of tea and filled each cup with simmering water. After a minute passed, the young monk could hear repressed laughter coming from behind him. He looked behind himself in confusion, and noticed that his guest no longer possessed her cool professional demeanor. Rather, her lips were curled up in an amused smirk.

”Ah, sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t contain myself. I find this situation somehow amusing.” Yalen nearly dropped the teacups in his hands when he heard the familiar voice, but managed to control himself. Despite this, his skin tingled as goosebumps crept up all over his body. Less than a day had passed since he ‘met’ the Traveler, but now the enigma had apparently come to visit Yalen in person.

”Relax boy, this is the real world. I’m not actually here to kill your friends you know.”

”Then why do you reveal yourself to me once again, Traveler? I… I did not think we'd meet again so soon.” Yalen’s face was like stone as he spoke to the supreme being seated before him.

”I guess I wanted to congratulate you. You and your friends have exceeded my expectations thus far. I truly thought you would all perish in that desert.” The disguised Traveler leaned forward and clasped her hands together on top of the table. "Not only did you make it out alive, but you now stand poised to change the lives of these refugees forever. A grand turn of events."

Yalen approached the table and took a seat, sliding one of the cups towards the Traveler with a trembling hand before sipping from his own. He was fighting his instinctual fear in order to hold a conversation with one of the world’s most powerful wizards. ”H-have you… known about our mission since the beginning?”

”Of course I did. I know all about your friends too. Hugo was smart to stick Jocasta with a bunch of do-gooders like you. I thought she would pile up a lot more bodies before leaving this place.” The Traveler covered her mouth and chuckled darkly at that last remark.

Yalen sighed heavily after hearing the Traveler’s words. ”So… it’s true.” He hung his head dejectedly.

”Did you really hope for a different answer? You heard what your friend Ayla said. The only ones to leave this prison are those trained to be killers. Jocasta has been an active assassin for a while now.”

Yalen shook his head. ”I… I knew nothing for sure, but I did have my suspicions. I just don’t -” He straightened up and looked at the Traveler sadly. “I don’t understand what would make it worth it. I know Jocasta is a good person. What was so awful about this place that she would kill to get away from here?

The older woman picked up her cup and downed its contents in a single gulp. ”What indeed…?” A biscuit floated across the room and into the Traveler’s waiting hand which she then bit into. The way she conducted herself, Yalen wondered if she was trying to get under his skin for her amusement. But the aloofness disappeared quickly as her eyes suddenly locked with his.

”Well, it turns out there was another use for her body besides murdering reprobates.”

Yalen swallowed the lump in his throat. ”Don’t tell me-”

”It was that man named Joaquin. Oh, he was insatiable. Every night he ravaged her. I believe she took his life shortly after the other caretaker… whatever his name was. It’s difficult for me to remember someone as boring as that.” The Traveler dunked the last of her biscuit in Yalen’s soup and finished it.

The young priest didn’t shed any tears, for his heart had already cried enough. Yet, what he’d heard impacted him all the same. It took a good deal of willpower to resist the urge to lean over and vomit.

”Breathe child. Breathe.”

Yalen closed his eyes and inhaled as commanded. As he did so, he felt an alien sensation he only recognized from his practical lessons at Ersand’Enise. The Traveler was changing his body’s chemistry. In that moment he feared for the worst, but whatever the transcendent mage did had a positive effect. The nausea and anxiety were suddenly gone.

Once he finally got a hold of himself, Yalen exhaled and calmly looked towards the Traveler. ”Why? Why do you think I deserve to know this?”

She shrugged in response. ”You would learn of it eventually. My predictions aren’t always accurate, but I believe she plans to spill the beans anyways. Tonight in fact. I’m telling you now for two reasons. First, I didn’t want you to overreact in front of a crowd of strangers. Second, I wanted you to start thinking seriously about the future.” The Traveler disappeared from her chair and re-appeared behind Yalen. She wrapped both hands around his shoulders and spoke into his ear.

”Sweet little Jo can be a powerful ally… but staying by her side means accepting everything. Her past. The people she has hurt. The people she has killed. Someday, she may even be compelled to do it again. But Jocasta is hurting too, you know. For what she’s done, I don’t think anyone could hate her more than she hates herself.” The monk shuddered as he felt the Traveler’s breath brush against his skin.

I… Yalen stared blankly ahead as a flood of questions and answers filled his mind. The truth was that he didn’t know what his true feelings were yet. The only way to know for sure would be to hear what Jocasta had to say for herself. Before he could say anything in return though, someone started knocking on the front door.

”A pity, but it looks like our little chat is over for now. Go with your classmates. Save this sanctuary. We shall meet again someday. Until then, grow stronger my boy, and continue to hone your spirit. Do not bore me.”

As "Talya" went to depart once more, Yalen stood up. ”Wait!” She stopped and turned back towards him with a questioning look. ”Why do you have such an interest in me?”

The Traveler grinned wolfishly. "I don't feel like telling you yet. Goodbye for now, Mr. Castel."

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Collaboration of: @Th3King0fChaos, @A Lowly Wretch, @dragonpiece, and @Force and Fury

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Our intrepid heroes had spent this little time doing what needed to be done, first among them, the students of Ersand'Enise, each of them made their claim to what they require to give their support. For the support of Desmond Cutter-Gretz Von Sausex-Eisenac and his ship, the Golden Sun, a single favor from the Uncrowned Queen of Segona. For Ingrid Penderson, the powder monkey of the Golden Sun, she too asks for a favor from the Uncrowned Queen of Segona. As for Trypano Somia, the Navigator and Doctor of the Golden Sun, she requests for the ships of her family to no longer be attacked by Captain Xavier Falzon. Finally, for Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora, the one to fill the Golden Sun with wind, she requests for her people to be allowed to live in peace within the land of Segona.

Once their requests are promised to be satisfied, they began their plans. Among the many ideas, they messed with the Lantern and upon Ingrid's use, she found out something important. After a quick prayer and inputting magic into it, the group was able to find out that the Lantern Penny found is in fact Shune-Zept's Lantern! Yet this knowledge seemed not to help much at the moment as it seemed to only light up for a moment before returning to its dormant state.

However, during this time of study, the group was able to formulate a plan, using Desmond's and Trypano's knowledge to fire cannonballs filled with phosphorous to hit the Maria Nera's Gunpowder room to hopefully sink the ship in one go, yet if to fail Desmond prepares to close the cover by destroying more of the rock ceiling. Yet no matter on whatever occurs, the intrepid crews of the Golden Sun and Flamant Royal finally fly their flags and set sail. For the Golden Sun, they raise a crimson red sail and flag with a gold sun embroidered upon the sails and flags.

Place(s): Cargo Hold and Entertainment Lounge, Lorentine Queen
Interactions: Leon Solaire(s) @Jumbus

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Carmillia watched as hand passed through the shoulders of the Leons. She felt a mild relief that it hadn't been some sort of trap based spell but also frustration. The Leons were continueing down the hallway unphased. Though they gave off no energy signatures indicating they were illusions, there was no denying it now.

She could double back and check if Leon was still in the cargo hold but she doubted he was still there. Somehow, the real Leon Solaire had escaped with the actual Lyre and these fakes were merely a diversion of sorts. Some sort of elaborate spell that was uniquely his. It's definitely something that he'd come up with. The real question was where was he? It was possible that these Leons were heading right to him but his capricousness knew no bounds.

She made another decision once more.

She followed after the illusionary Leons. Wherever they were going and whatever they were going to do, it'd give her more information to work with.

Well, that was unsurprising. Carmillia watched as the Leons vanished into a burst of glitter. Her hopes that had temporarily raised that he would be here when she heard his voice earlier were now, expectedly, dashed.

Leon was not here.

But she was no longer lost. She hadn't missed the Leon that had strode in from the left exit. The way that one had moved was surely a hint to whatever trickery Leon had performed. The importance of that realization wasn't about how to solve his intricate spell but a reminder that the information required was always present if you knew what to look for.

What did she know of Leon?

She hadn't known him capable of such a feat but what she did know... was that Leon loved being the star. He would've chosen to be a direct part of the performance if he could. That meant he had a reason for hiding. Was it to protect the Lyre? Had he been injured by one of the agents?

You're sidetracking. Find him.

She focused her thoughts. Even if Leon wasn't able to be present in his own magical performance, Leon wouldn't have missed it. He was nearby, not in the entertainment hall itself perhaps, but nearby. Carmillia recalled the layout of the Lorentine Queen from back during the team meeting in Hugo's tower. There was only really one place Leon could have chosen to hide and be within sights of the entertainment hall.

The stupor that his performance had created had now passed and the crowd was starting to devolve back into a violent frenzy. Carmillia ignored it, her sights set on Leon and the lyre he possessed, weaving through crowd as if it was a perfectly normal day. It fondly reminded her of her own days watching drunken brawls in the slums.

Leon was in the backmost of the ship, in the covered verandah. There was noone else in sight. Anyone that might have been here earlier would have been drawn into the ship either by the brawl or Leon's performance that came after.

Carmillia walked up towards him and saw he was taking in laboured breaths, mostly likely the after effects of his spell.

"You must not be very good at hide-and-seek, seeing as you're just standing about here in the open."

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Feeling that she is dead weight in the current situation but can't risk Manfred chopping his neck instead, Zarra turn his whole body towards Dorothea. "Come on, let's get you somewhere out of sight." Still in her daze, Zarra lifts her up by the arm and helps her stand.

"But, we need to help them. . . right?" Dorothea asked, still dazed by being knocked out. Her half-opened eyes would stare at the Perrenchman as he helped her get up. "Why did you leave? Both of you left. . ." The Feskan mumbled as she accepted his help for the current moment.

"I was gonna come back, but by the time I did, you had already joined the riot, and Carm was nowhere to be found. Next thing I know, you're about to shoot her. I'm helping you now because your boyfriend threatened to shoot me in the face if I didn't." He says this with a surprising calm.
Inside the storage room, Zarra finds himself instinctively wanting to wander. But doing so would leave Dorothea alone again and he is skeptical she would appreciate that. After all, she- His of thought is derailed as soon as he notices something on a crate in the far end of the room. Upon further investigation, he can't believe his own eyes. How did the Lyre end up here?? There's no way Leon would just leave I behind like that, he saw the illusionist throw it into the mob. Is this some sort of trick? His curiosity supersedes his caution and he handles the curved harp. He strums, it's strings playing a perfect major scale.
It sounds like the real deal, nothing happens when he uses it though. It could simply that he doesn't know how to use it. He's never exactly had a magical instrument before. Yah, the universe has never worked that way. There's no way Leon just left the lyre here, there must be some shenanigans going on, but does Leon even know enough binding to perfectly replicate the artifact? He'll have to take it to Hugo to know for sure.

Dorothea looked at the lyre with a confused look on her face. "Is that really the lyre? . . . Wouldn't it be guarded by mages? . . This seems too easy . ." She doesn't really remember what happened in the moments before being knocked out.

"Exactly, it is too easy. I think it's a fake, I don't know how they managed to replicate it so perfectly though. Is Leon skilled enough at Binding to do that?"

"The guy that wore too many layers of clothes? How could a boy like him ever be that good with binding magic? What even happened when I was not here? . ."

"Well, we killed 2 Traveler agents, I hit the other in the baby makers, Carm disappeared after Manfred decked you in the throat. I would say a pretty productive few minutes." Zarra expresses the last sentence with a distinct sarcasm

The door to Kaspar’s room shut again, though the boy did not begin trembling this time as he had the last.

He’d been trembling before he opened it; before they even departed the camels. Though he couldn’t recall it himself, the boy was sure Yalen could tell him he’d been trembling for some amount of the ride home.

The demons that haunted him now were not the same as the previous night, nor this morning. He was not beset with visions of his past and thoughts of unwanted children, trying to find the sense of where he fit in between those images.

What… the fuck?

Was this normal? His life as a noble afforded him safety that others often didn’t have, sure, but… This was nothing like he’d encountered or even heard of in the eight years that preceded it. In less than two full days—Less than one? How long have we been here?, his mind offered—he and his companions had very nearly died twice, and been endangered several more times. Not to mention the notion that had been vaguely working in his mind, quite possibly placed there by his classmates, that the students were not meant to survive this encounter. If he had less training in smoothing over his urges, he’d…

Well, he’d want Warden Ortega dead.

He took a deep breath, centering himself. What would Willa do?

A snort of laughter erupted from him, unbidden, as he imagined his tutor’s presence in this Refuge. If she knew the circumstances the Warden had put the tethered children in? A grand usurping, he was sure—and certainly no shame if the Warden happened to perish because of his own actions. If Kaspar (and, to a lesser extent, his classmates) had been endangered as well?

Nothing short of death in a manner most cruel and unusual, he imagined.

Gods, that woman scared him. He’d have to keep the shared details of this mission minimal, or she’d be liable to try and track down Hugo for a beating, too.

He shook the thoughts from his head. There was no use in imagining it now, when there was much work to be done. Someone had taken care to make sure he knew they would be meeting with Amanda tonight, though his mind lacked a clear picture of exactly who. Blonde hair—Yalen, or perhaps Jocasta?—seemed to prevail, but he was uncertain if it pertained to the message or simply to the ride back.

He was glad to see a bath had been prepared, and wasted not a moment more peeling the bloodied clothes from his skin. The water was still hot, and he sank into it gratefully. He was tired of heat, but this was a cleansing burn—the heat of the desert only served to soil.

Kaspar took care the scrub the blood where it had begun to stain his skin; his chin and throat seemed a mess, though he knew it was the nature of lip injuries to bleed and he’d not been damaged elsewhere. Other splatters of the crimson liquid lay on his shoulders and arms, his chest and stomach and thighs, and he was sure his back was tainted too.

Froabase blood, or that from his camel—the latter which had suffered a painful death, and the former which likely lived, but had lost a good portion of its face to his Gift.

He was glad to find a small selection of clothes available in the room; his own were likely ruined, and the boy was grateful that he hadn’t brought his precious cloak along. Though these articles were looser and flowier than his own, and lacked any sort of vest to go overtop the tunic, it would have to suffice. He wasted no time setting to the meal that had been left for him, handily cleaned of drugs by Jocasta’s quiet work, and finished it in mere minutes.

As Kaspar prepared to step out the door, he schooled his face into a neutral expression. There was much to discuss tonight, and likely emotions that would run high, but he would not let himself fall victim to the disturbances the Refuge had offered thus far.

Closing it softly behind him, crimson eyes sweeping the area just in time to meet with Jocasta’s gaze.

Turning toward her, he nodded softly and began to approach.

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For a moment, Manfred locked eyes with Eun-Ji and nodded. He'd been counting on her intervention and she hadn't let him down. It was refreshing to have at least one reliable element within the larger scope of this disaster. In the background, the Kerreman could hear Zarra going on like a yappy little dog, but he shot a glance back and saw that the shifty Perrenchman was actually following orders for once, so the rest was immaterial. For the time being, maybe two reliable elements, he conceded hesitantly.

Then, a new cluster of rioters broke into the rear atrium where the group was standing. One was swinging a table leg like a club, smashing gambling tables, mirrors, and light fixtures. Another was using arcane magic to melt into a safe, a third was smashing lockboxes and scooping coins into a sack, and a fourth went straight for the liquor behind the bar, drinking some and throwing bottles, lighting a few on fire. "Why the fuck don't we get a sniff!?" a smallish labourer bellowed. "Where does all the money go?" screamed a woman. A great big beast of a man was taking a sledgehammer to the walls. "Bread and circuses!" he shouted. "Bread and circuses," in an endless refrain. Upstairs, footsteps could be heard racing about, doors slammed, and shouts pierced the night. At this rate, it was not a matter of 'if' but 'when' things would get out of hand and the ship itself would be critically damaged.

"You!" bellowed one, leveling a pickaxe at Manfred like a pointer, "Rich boy!" The cut of Manfred's clothing, even though it was not ostentatious, gave him away. "Who's side are you on?"

For a moment, he was taken aback. There were six of these people, and at least a couple had clearly displayed some use of the Gift. Manfred did not give the unease that he began to feel any rent on his face, however. "I'm on the side of 'the Rednitz are kotzbrocken and so are most noble folks, but I'd rather not see anyone else die on this ship'." As he said it, however, the idiot who'd been shouting "bread and circuses" like a broken cuckoo clock, managed to finally stick his sledgehammer right through the wall and also the outer hull just beyond it. Cold, dirty water began to pour in and cracks started to form. Manfred's eyes widened. In his head, he recited the extraction words that he and Eun-Ji had been entrusted with, but there was time yet to save matters here. "I would also like this ship to not sink!" he added with some urgency, as the rioters stumbled back, wide-eyed and flinching away from their handiwork. "We can take your demands ashore and force them up the asses of those Rednitz pigs, but this sort of thing-" He gestured at the hole and the water pouring through it "-will only lead to many more labourers like yourselves dying and your overlords being able to sit there on their powdered arses confirming to each other what mindless brutes you all are!"

Drawing on the motion of the water, Manfred lifted the same chandelier cap he'd used to knock out that arcanist earlier and shoved it in there with a kinetic blast. It just about fit, but it was clear that it wouldn't hold for long without some reinforcement: magical or mundane. The water had spread all along the floor now, but was leaking through planks and lower into the cargo hold. Just to think about it: how many incidents like this one were happening elsewhere in the ship? We have to drop everything, he thought, and stop this riot, or it will be the death of hundreds! He had seen Leon, of course, throwing the Lyre. The performer was a wildcard, maybe even daft, but he was not outright mad. Mostlike, it was another illusion, and Manfred had to trust the instinct that told him so. He also reasoned that he should trust the one that told him to put a stop to the riots. It was right about then that he turned to look for Dory in the hopes that she yet stirred. He wanted to apologize to her for his drastic actions and see if he might enlist her in his endeavour. Fiery and - at times - unreasonable though she might have been, she cared about the people of Feska and about being seen as someone who would fight for them.

The only problem was that, when he looked, she - along with Zarra - was gone.

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