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Location: Meldheim Harbor
Characters: Gerard, Birger

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"So this is the thing they found in the prison." Birger watched from the safety of the harbor as Meldheim’s bay slowly filled with blood. All along the horizon, Eskandr vessels could be seen retreating towards the city as a behemoth the size of a dragon attacked everything in sight. A fishing boat disappeared in seconds when a mass of flesh broke the water’s surface and shattered it to pieces. Try as they might, the doomed sailors had no chance of swimming to safety, for the hungry beast had no intention of letting them escape. Their hopeless screams lasted only an instant before they were swallowed whole.

”I can’t sense its presence at all. Asier told us that it can disable our magic usage.” Gerard pointed out, having accompanied him to the scene. He was still dressed as a Kressian pilgrim.

"Aye. It was the only way they could keep your best soldiers under lock and key." Birger replied. "But for it to bring about such carnage, they must have tortured the pitiful thing."

Gerard grimaced. ”It would be much easier to pity the creature if it didn’t want to use our bones as nourishment. Our escape will be very difficult now that it is loose.”

The two men weren’t the only ones watching the destruction unfold. They had to speak in whispers, as Meldheim’s citizens had also gathered in droves atop the docks. They too could only watch helplessly, for without magic there was little hope of saving those still stranded on the water. Taking any more ships out to sea for the sake of a rescue would only cost them more lives.

“Where is it going to hit next?” Gerard heard someone ask. Others began speaking of friends and loved ones whose lives were at risk aboard the ships.

It doesn’t matter to me. The red Rezaindian thought to himself. ”Let us move on before it targets us next.” He murmured so only Birger could hear. The Eskandr convert tipped his head in reply and the two attempted to skulk away from the crowd. Although the monster’s rampage did complicate their long term plans, at the moment it was a welcome distraction. If word spread up the chain of command that Meldheim’s people were in danger, it was possible the detachment headed to Rigevand would be called off. It would also create some breathing room which the Perrench in the capital could use to make preparations for the fire attack.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Gerard’s sixth sense returned, though only for a few fleeting moments. Yet that flicker of awareness was all it took for him to immediately turn back around.

”Birger.” The bishop hissed.

The older man gave his ally a strange look. "What is it? Do you want to watch more of my countrymen die?"

”No! It’s coming!” Gerard reached into his clothes and drew his sword, which had been kept hidden under his robes.

The bystanders only had seconds to notice the giant shadow growing underneath the waves. Before those who realized could warn their fellow men, a giant pinniped covered in blood breached the water’s surface. Many stumbled backwards in fear as the monstrosity proceeded to tear the wooden walkway apart.

”By the gods, it’s huge!” Gerard exclaimed.

”Got a good look have you? Great! Now let’s go!" Birger wasted no further time and sprinted off to their next destination. Perhaps he was too hasty in his retreat, for he would not bear witness to what happened next. He had not seen what Gerard had seen. The fiery priest had every reason to follow his colleague away from the carnage, but his feet were frozen in place.

It’s…! Gerard watched as the monster jumped straight out of the water and land on top of the walkway, crushing a man to death underneath its massive bulk. As the breath was forced out of his lungs, his pitiful scream echoed through the open air, sending a chill down the priest’s spine.

“Papa!” A little Eskandr girl emerged from the fleeing mob in a dead sprint towards the sea monster, completely oblivious to the danger she was exposing herself to. The child’s desperate cry shattered Gerard’s state of mind, replacing it with a dormant instinct that had long been buried deep. In that moment, the life of an innocent weighed heavier on the scales than any hatred Gerard had for Hrothgar and his people. Conscious thought ceased as muscle memory and adrenaline took over. The holy warrior unleashed a battle cry and charged forward, armed with nothing but the sword in his hands. He knew the beast was blocking his magic, but training was a suitable remedy for despair. A soldier of Echeran knew no fear.

In the instant before the bloodthirsty creature fell upon its next victim, Gerard’s blade struck true. A lucky strike buried his longsword deep inside the beast’s vulnerable nostrils. Its frenzied vocalizations were loud enough to push him back through sheer pressure, making the Rezaindian lose his balance and topple to the ground. He quickly snatched the girl up and scrambled to his feet. The monster was too maddened by pain to pursue them as he made his frantic escape.

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Interaction: The Timewalker
Scene: Tall Trees & Long Shadows
Location: Loriindton - The Timewalker's Hut

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A tall, red headed woman sat at and observed this trial from a good distance. She was not a relative, or close to Merit, at least in public knowledge. And whilst she’d done a great service for her, it was to remain a secret, or her dying wish would fall apart. But the more she watched, the further she slipped into a silent rage. It did not show on her face, for she had trained so extensively to hide her expression, to keep up appearances and to appear innocent in the event of an inquest. But by the 6, she was furious. She thought that perhaps the people of Loriindton had simply forgotten what the Parrench had done to their city and needed reminding. She truly believed that this last, heroic sacrifice of their hero, that they would finally wake up to reality, but they did not. The spider persisted, fueled by emotion rather than the truth that lay bare in front of her. She persisted in her defense, asked for a trial by combat, did everything to avoid the justice that was to be put on her companion. It was as if the elder’s death did not matter to her compared to the whims and wishes of the crown, and she could not understand why. It made her head spin. It made her filled with rage. How far had these people fallen into human depravity, and why. Why!? This girl, who was almost certainly the aspect of Vyshta, was determined to destroy her own people for the sake of another, simply because of a feeling of belief in her friend. What utter nonsense. By the time the first day was over, she went for a very angry trip through the forest.

Perhaps it was a feeling of futility, that nothing she did could wake them up. She saw that a lot were outraged, but those who were already lost weren’t coming back to the fold, and that stung. Maybe the city would return to neutrality, but she didn’t really care about that. That is what the Eskandr wanted, and she could give a rats ass what Hrothgar and the rest of those heathens thought. What she wanted was for her people to realize that they were a frog in boiling water, and to leap out and change things before fate closed in on them, and she hadn’t achieved that nor did Merit. She didn’t want to speak to Dyric and she didn’t even want to speak to Jyluun. One word was ringing through her head as she leapt from tree to tree, cloak firmly covering her hair and Tetsoi. Why?

And as the words rang out in Eliis mind, she realized. There was a person she could find the truth from. Perhaps she’d steered away because of her latent fear of it, but the Timewalker is a name she’d heard again and again in this city. People spoke of them with fear as well, and it was for good reason. To play with time and space was to walk a path of pain and destruction. Deep down, she knew why she was afraid. Perhaps she would be weak in the face of a reality where things could be different, where she could have lived a happy life rather than one of duty to her people, but if she wanted to know the truth, she’d have to go there. She reluctantly stopped her speedy travel through the tall trees, and began to find her bearings, to find this character and speak to them. She’d brought treasure with her, only Damy knew if it would be enough to pay for what she wanted to know.

It was a surprisingly humble hut, on a lower branch near the edge of town proper. It did not even have a door: more of a curtain made of heavy skins and furs. Eliis had heard of ‘darkmen’ before, though they were known by a different name in her region. Pitch-black gaps in reality taking the shapes of people or everyday objects, they only tended to appear around timewalkers, and many were the cautionary tales surrounding them. As she brushed the curtain aside, she was careful to watch her step. Indeed, a couple of them sparkled darkly in a corner. One simply appeared to be that of a man - likely a yasoi man - but the other stood out for, once she could make sense of it, it appeared to be a woman with one leg.

“Ah, so the red rose pays me a visit,” rasped an aged voice. Bent over a gnarled cane, sightless eyes blank but somehow keen, an ancient woman hobbled over from a back room, reaching blindly for a stool and seating herself with a small huff of exertion. For a bare moment, there was a rush of energy and then… light. Dozens of slumped and withered old candles - their sides sculpted by rivers of melted wax - lit up the room with a flickering glow. Sticks of incense burned. A lick of wind clattered the bone chimes just outside. “Now, the question is, Eliis’qarmena’luunetar: why?”

Panic immediately set into the Tar'ithan’s brain. How? What? She’d nay said a word since she stepped in, yet she was immediately greeted with her full name. Eliis had been training her entire life to be stealthy, to not show her thoughts or emotions, yet this old crone immediately got both. What exactly was she? Did the witch really hold such power? She shuddered slightly before responding, It had been a while since she had genuinely felt creeped out by something, at least like this. It even beat the blistering anger she felt before coming here.

“That is why I came here, Timewalker. I want to know why.” she struggled to talk, a lump forming in her throat before finishing. Why is it that she was so afraid? Yes, she knew her name. So what? She built a name for herself. Wasn’t that the point? She forced herself to be calm, as much as she could without leaning on her gift.

“Why does Talit reject the truth in front of her, the death of her dear elder for the likes of the huusoi? Am I the one who is blind, or is it they who refuse to see what will come?”

“Hmmm,” the old crone rumbled, and she let out what could’ve been construed as a mirthful snort were one inclined to view it that way. “There are three parts to this question. You do not know the answer to any.” A gnarled old hand, the skin so pale as to be nearly translucent, emerged from a drooping sleeve and waited, palm open, in front of her.

Eliis pondered for a moment. Of the treasures she’d brought with her, she liked them all. She hardly wanted to part ways with them. Yet, she knew she’d have to, for why else would the crone stretch out her hand. She hesitated for a moment, before drawing a beautiful golden medallion from her bag. She’d picked it from a corpse of some noble kid she’d killed in Relouse. Perhaps that would suffice. She placed it in the timewalker’s palm.

“Is this to your liking?”

“All of them,” the old woman croaked, handing it back.

Eliis sighed in sadness. It hurt so much to give it all up, but she knew such information could not be cheap. She placed the medallion back in the bag and handed the satchel to her.
”There. That’s everything I brought. I have naught else to give, unless you want me to run back to [HOMETOWN] and empty out my tree.” she spoke a little disheartened and bitter.

“Hmm, mhm,” the elder acknowledged, and she spent a minute or longer in perfect silence but for the rustling of her hands through the bag and the gentle ‘clink’ and scrape of the bone chimes outside. One by one, she took objects out and placed them on the stool. First came some coins. Then, there was a pin that Eliis had received as a girl. The timewalker moved… perhaps pointedly slowly. Next, came a comb, and then a vial, and then a book - the Menanne. She lingered for a moment with that one. Finally, the old witch held in her hand a skull. Both of her hands worked their way over its surface. “This,” she remarked with a reverent sort of glee, “is exquisite.” She tilted her head slightly to one side. “I have named my price.”

As she watched her treasures be pored over by the old woman, she winced every time. The pin, then the comb, then the menanne. It got worse and worse for her. Those weren’t valuable, not by the metric of the huusoi. But she supposed, that they weren’t dealing with them. Even still, they weren’t beautiful by the traditional metrics. They were merely memories she held dear to her, and oh how it hurt to watch them be handled by another. Then the skull. She hated the fact she’d put it in there in the first place. It was her purpose, her goal. She could not give that up - nay - would not give that up for a few questions. She strengthened her resolve firmly. She’d negotiated before, it was custom.

”The worth of that man is far more than a few questions. But, the Menanne is yours for your answers. That is a price I’m willing to pay, hurt me as it might. ” she spoke, struggling to keep her composure still. Try as she might, she cared for that book, the skull and the comb more than anything else in her trove.

“It is a partial payment and will receive a partial answer. I shall make that clear.” The timewalker’s hands felt around for a moment, before seizing the book.

”Then the comb as well. I do not want partial answers. I want the truth.”

“I do not deal in truths, child,” the old woman growled. “I deal in answers and people make their own truths of those.” She paused. “If you wish for all three of the answers, I should very much prefer the skull. You may buy two of: your own truth with the book and the comb, that of your people’s future, or that of Lady Talit’yrash. Not all of them, and I shall not negotiate further.”

Eliis frowns. An impossible choice, yet she knew that she could not give the skull up. The menanne was his, and it gave her strength to continue, and the comb was a memento that she held dear, but the skull was her dream. Eudes deserved a proper resting place, not an old crone’s workshop. But what to pick. Deep down, she wanted to cry. She had always wanted to cry. It wasn’t for her to make decisions. But she had to pick. That’s why she came here. She hardened her heart, and took the skull back. Eliis had always picked duty. Today, she would pick curiosity, for once in her life.

”Tell me of my own future, and of Talit. My people's fate is surely not yet sealed.”

“It is, and yet it isn’t, but events of significance will happen soon.” The old woman palmed the objects and set them down reverently on the table with the candles. “With Talit, I do not need my abilities to tell me much about her. She is known to me and I have…” she trailed off, still for a second. “Regrets, and yet not. For yourself, however, please give me your hands.”

There was no hesitation in her mind or her heart at this point. She put her hands on the Timewalker’s expectantly, hoping to find out her own truth. The old woman closed her sightless eyes and her grip on Eliis’ hands tightened. “I hear deception,” she croaked, brow furrowing. “Not only in the future, but in the past: a deception you are aware of and one that you are not. You are being used as a tool, red rose, by people far more cunning than you are, and they lie to each other as well.” She tensed for a moment, grip turning into a vise before slacking off. “Your honourable deeds are not so honourable as you believe them to be. Merit’s dying breath was not one of gratitude but one of betrayal by her own blood.” She shook her head. “What a villain,” she murmured, “What a villain!” She paused. “Not you, child. Do not worry. You have done black deeds, but your heart is not black. Bringers, I wish he could’ve turned out differently, though I knew he would not.” She released Eliis’ hands all at once and her eyelids flickered blindly open.

What could she mean by all of this? She always knew she was a tool, it did not take a genius to see that. But what deception was she unaware of? And Merit, betrayed? By her own blood? Her head spun. The dots began to piece together, and Eliis began to realize. It must have been Dyric. But why would Merit permit her to do it, if not for the cause she stated? And how did Dyric betray her. It was all too much. She came for answers and got given twice as many questions as she had prior. It hurt her, that she wasn’t smarter like one of her parents, or one of those scheming huusoi nobles, and could just figure this out in a few minutes and understand it all. She was only a weapon, and she needed time. More time than she had. Even still, she had paid for more. And she would get more.

”You speak of what I have done, but not of what will come. There must be more, or do I meet my end at this trial.” she spoke, becoming more panicked and anxious. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here, though she did not realize it yet. She gripped her arm with such strength that she thought she might rip it off, though she was careful not to. Another set of strained deep breaths filled the room as she looked expectantly at the Timewalker.

With a sih, the old woman closed her eyes again. “I hear a clash: a violent conflict. You fight against an ally and on the side of an enemy. A clever but cruel deception forces the hand of the huusoi and they force the hand of Loriindton’s people. The yasoi have no time. They must act or their city will burn.” She shook her head. “They are galvanized into choosing a side they would noto havve chosen.” She regarded the younger woman sightlessly now. “I am sorry, red rose, if it is not what you wanted.”

More riddles. Perhaps if this was her childhood, she would have quite enjoyed herself, but she’d lost the luster for it now that she would know what was to come. Alas, this news was far less bad than she was hoping. She did not seem to die, not yet and not fruitlessly. And the people would act or die. Perhaps it meant that they were forced to fight, rather than staying well alone. It was not the fate that Dyric or many of them wanted, but it was the fate that was to come, in her mind, regardless of those who rejected it.. But she was still confused. Who would the ally be, and who would be the enemy. Regardless, she wanted to know more. Was it greed? Or was it a necessity at this point. What could be done?

”I don’t know if it is what I wanted. I don’t know what I want, I only assume I know what I must do. And if there is anything else for you to see, please tell me. For if this city has little time, then I must act. Poisoned as they are, they are my brothers and sisters.”

“You have made your choice,” the timewalker croaked. “And I have given you more than that already, but you are still owed the other half of your answer.” She sighed. “The wounds between Talit and Dyric run deep: to the years when the King of Parrence visited as a boy. The two children vied for his attention: one as a playmate and the other, unbeknownst to her, as something more. One of them won that contest, and a bitterness and jealousy grew between them.” She scowled. “I well remember the day that Talit’yrash walked through that same curtain, though she was not yet ‘yrash’, then: a girl just shy of eleven.” The old witch shook her head. “She wished to kill a scagbiist. She wished to prove herself heroic, to shame her brother’s anger, and to cement herself as Oirase. I saw her future and, when she withheld her greatest treasure, I understood that I wasn’t to alter it, so the truths that I told were open to interpretation. She’d been chosen not as Life, but to be chaos and Fortune, and far be it for me to tamper with the will of gods.” She was silent for a moment. The chimes tinkled and the candles burned. “Talit has spent all of her life since both embracing how special she is and running from it, and so she runs into the arms of the huusoi, who have never lied to her or treated her badly and whose king she still covets. With how insular our people have become, she believes that it is poison in our veins not to travel the world so freely as we once did. She thinks that Parrence represents the best chance that we have for a secure land. Dyric, however, grew up an afterthought in her shadow and, in truth, he hates her. Ever was the love of Lady Merit the rope in their contest and, in truth, she softened greatly towards the huusoi and the Parrench in her later years, though she could not make her position public for fear of the reaction.” She stopped abruptly. “Tali will succeed, at least in part, though she shall be wounded deeply again, as may you. Now, I have said enough,” she snapped, “far more than I have spoken in years and far more than you paid me for. Begone!”

Eliis paused for a moment after being told to leave. She wanted to ask more. She wanted to know more. She thought that this was the price of knowledge, to constantly desire more and more, and that is why such precious items had to be given, but she knew that she could not give more, for then she would lose her purpose. Truth be told, she was slightly afraid of the timewalker, though not as unnerved as when she first walked in. She seemed far more sensitive about the issue of Talit than the monster she initially thought she was. She bowed her head in respect. ”Thank you, Timewalker. You have given me much, and I hope that I can give just as much to Loriindton.” she spoke solemnly, still deep in thought but giving pause for just a moment, before exiting the small hut.

Eliis searched for a place to contemplate and rest, finding a secluded tall tree a good distance off from the commotions of the city. She caressed the skull that the timewalker oh-so wanted and began to think, harder than she’d ever thought in her life probably. Were the Parrench really the best hope? The people that desecrated their religion and brought fire and blood to their people? But they were more similar than she thought. Perhaps if Eudes lived, she would have stayed the confused girl she was, rather than what she had become now. Would Arcel have to die for her to see reason? But she did not wish for this girl to suffer as she already had. Being bound by duty was already a terrible curse. Eliis thought and thought about the matter and what she could do, eventually finding herself in a deep sleep and no closer to an answer. Maybe a choice would be forced from her, but she had made one too many today in her mind.

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Hildr's thoughts during her battle with Camille: @Pirouette

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As the tensions rose and the woman stood ready for combat with one of the knights, something she did not see coming came from the crowd, a child? No, not even the Perrench would send a child to fight her, would they? She even introduced herself, no going back on this.

“I am Hildr of Crissia.” The Drudgunze knight said with not much in terms of enthusiasm. The girl that faced her was small, frail. Hildr shook her head, this was not the time to be underestimating her opponent. “May the true gods and those of your own favor you and may honor keep this battle sacred.” She slid on her helmet before clashing her swords together as a sign for the Eskandr to move away, luckily most listened to her wish except for that idiotic brute.

After this show and play the knight began to quickly circle around the other. A mercy killing would be desirable, this is not a way for a child to live their life. Was she looking for a quick opening or was it all but a feint? People were moving way too much for her senses, even the energy was flowing weirdly. Pulling from it as much as she could she put everything into one, quick, finishing strike.

…It was blocked?

Have her senses started to fail her? This child.. That aura around her caused her skin to crawl. Protection from the gods? Or was this someone else protecting her? This was no time to think about it. The way she thought with such confidence and abandon of her own safety reminded the knight of herself, or rather what she used to be.

Then, a slip and a clean strike: a hard smack across the chest that caused a large dent. Hildr gasped and staggered back. It was painful, the bruise, and now uncomfortable to breathe. "Fine, then! I will show you something too!" her blood was boiling from the fact a mere child got the first hit on her.

Attack after attack was batted away like it was nothing, most men would be crushed under the blunt force of her swings but to think a child was not just taking them but doing so effortlessly. How could she even make this seem like anything but an utter embarrassment? Her senses were going numb as her anger kept on building up, getting sloppier with her attack by the minute.

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Then, the feeling of cold steel making contact with her skin snapped her out of it. The sudden pain caused her to fall to her knees. Was that it? Did she lose? Was she that busy in her own mind that she allowed herself to die at the hands of a mere child? Opening her eyes once more she saw the girl-knight standing over her own defeated frame, spouting some religious nonsense that was nothing but dirtying her name with their gods’ bastardry.

With everything she had left, she rolled to the side and recovered her own blade, thrusting up with it. She caught the girl clean, in her moment of overconfidence, and Camille staggered backwards, bleeding. She collapsed for perhaps a moment and Hildr felt it: felt that she had a chance, but the strength was not in her to will herself to her feet. It was in Camille. The Parrenchwoman rose, gritting her teeth, to once again try to finish matters, and it was truly over. Closing her eyes to accept her and said with a weak voice.. “May the Visitor take me to rest.”

She was so faded that she could not feel the surge of energy until the Nashorn came out of nowhere, smacking into Camille like a runaway wagon into a fly. Hildr could only lay there as the Nashorn sullied her name, her honor, her life. Tears began to flow, perhaps the Gods only gave her the miracle only to have her become nothing more than a shamed knight. Was the miracle a sick joke?

As her thoughts were starting to fade like candle lights and her eyes got heavier and heavier, one last thought could not be burned out. One that was cursing the Nashorn’s name, so that he would never be allowed a peaceful rest. Perhaps the Gods always favored her comrades, perhaps the Perrench were the Gods’ chosen people.

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“Hark!” cried a voice, “hark! My prince!” The finely dressed rider pulled up short and to the side of Prince Ulf. “I apologize for my rude interruption,” he spewed breathlessly, “but it is my men in this village. They are loud, rough, and many are Drudgunzean. I did not wish for misunderstanding.” Quickly, the rider dismounted, his black leather books sinking deep into the seaside sand.

“You are Jarl…” Ulf trailed off, a thinly veiled look of distaste settling upon his young features.
“Alsfard, your highness. Jarl Bjorn of Alsfard. Those are my ships just there.” He gestured. “I was speaking with your mother about -”

“I know what you were discussing,” the prince interrupted, holding a hand up for this interloper to cease his talk. He scowled, glancing almost imperceptibly quickly in Vali’s direction. “So you vouch for them, then?”

“I do, my prince.”

“And you will compensate their victims for any damages they cause?”

“They will cause none but, if they do, I shall. On my honour.”

“Very good, Jarl Alsfard,” the youth replied, his voice cracking slightly. “I am glad we have avoided this misunderstanding.”

“As am I, and I am heartily sorry for any inconvenience caused.” He began to depart, heading towards the great longhouse, but then Ulf stopped him. “Say, Jarl Alsfard, have you heard anything about the Quentists who are supposed to be living in this town?”

There was a pause that went on just a half-moment too long. The Jarl furrowed his brow and shook his head tightly. “I’m afraid I know little of this area. My domains are far from here.” He sniffed, patting his horse to keep the beast placated. “I know precios little of their vile faith and wish to know yet less.”

“And where, pray tell, are your domains, Jarl Alsfard?” came the logical next question, but he was spared from answering by the thunder of approaching hooves. It appeared that Rigevand was a popular place for messengers this day. “My prince,” panted the rider, “there is an emergency in the city. A havetskriger is rampaging through the port and the fishermen’s market!”

It was not more than three minutes before thirty footsoldiers and three riders could be seen racing toward the city, their reflections skipping and wavering across the blue-grey waters of the Gulf of Eskand.

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Kol could sense the approaching rider long before he could see her, and he knew who she was. “There is a problem in the city,” called the Skygge, coming to a stop. “The creature your king tortures under the docks has broken loose. It has killed many and thirsts for yet more blood. It blocks our access to the Gift.” She held out a hand to help pull him onto the great white mare that she sat astride. “If Arne is to be Æresvaktr then we had best gather him too. I can think of no better time for him to prove his worthiness.”

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The havetskriger was a great seal-like beast, over thirty feet in length, with a thick leathery hide, layers of blubber, and a series of tusks that it had used to smash up piers and boats as surely as it had employed them against ice in the past. Now, it was aground and hauling itself awkwardly about the port district and the market with surprising speed, people fleeing before it, structures smashed or crushed in its wake.

Already, a few braver individuals had sunk arrows into the maddened creature, and these stuck out like sparse bristles in places. Yet, they seemed to do precious little to slow it and it was clear that more would be needed. With everything near to the sea emptying out, the city devolved into chaos. Robbers and brigands looted, innocents sheltered and huddled in fear, and the great katterhorns sounded an alarm.

It was many hours and yet more lives before the animal was stopped and, in this time, many who did not act in the interests of the Eskandr people were hard at work. Agents of Parrence laid their plans, gathered their resources, and prepared to strike on the morrow.

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The morning dawned cool and overcast, pale rays of sunlight occasionally peering through a mourning veil of clouds. All about the city, as it awakened, the sounds of axes, hammers, and men at work could be heard. The people of Meldheim had weathered far worse and they wasted no time in clearing the wreckage. Queen Astrid herself walked among them, contributing with her Gift and her words, allaying suspicions as to the beast’s origin and anger. The Eskandr would recover.

Yet, among them slept a peril. It, too, awakened with the sun. The battered old locks that guarded the Dampende River from overflowing its banks and occupying its former delta had been sabotaged. As a rising tide piled up against them, they creaked, shuddered, and gave way. Cellar floors began filling. Rivulets of water trickled down the streets. The river filled with shadowy silhouettes, not quite human, lurking in the shadows of the muddy banks and shoreline brush.

This singular sabotage, however, was not the only danger. While the strange mossy-haired girl who had loosed the havetskriger was nowhere to be seen, dozens of other Parrench infiltrators now stalked the capital’s streets and recently-freed hostages skulked about. Gradually, carefully, with a dark, nervous, giddy sort of anticipation, they took their appointed places and made themselves unremarkable.

It was an hour past noon when each of these people, whether they had been in place for minutes or days, felt a pinch behind both of their ears. Tutors soon to commence class in the Kongesalan, rugged brigands hanging about the port, or earnest pilgrims awaiting the wisdom of the gods in the Grontempel: it did not matter. Now was the moment. The temple, the palace, whatever they could of the city - this last one without the prior knowledge of their Quentic Eskandr allies: Echeran hungered for these things, and so they were to burn. The people and property they were to steal or steal back were to be snatched. Whatever suspicions they had engendered would not now matter.

Jacques, Maud, and Svend had already departed from Rigevand with a skeleton crew on each knarr. The ships lurked, presently, just around the headland outside the capital’s sheltered harbour. Soon, it was hoped, they would be filled to bursting. The rain, it was hoped, would hold off. Meldheim, it was hoped, would serve as a warning that if Parrence was to burn, Eskand would burn with it.

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"Predators!"

The voice amplified by the gift made whatever small flock of birds had settled down in the canopy above Loriindton rise in shock, but it were also the heads of many, many people down below that were craned to find the thunderous warning's origin.

"Predators! Two miles southwest and closing!"

Predators ? Otios could only wonder about the city guard. All predators dangerous to Husoi or Yasoi alike had gone regionally extinct a long time ago, at least the last time he had checked. It took his mind a serious moment to actually start theorizing about 'predators' not necessarily referring to the city's people as being prey or that the whole thing might just be a case of a very bad choice of words. These were times of war after all and some unexperienced, young newcomer in the lookouts way above their heads might have some frail nerves because of that, causing him to classify just anything of significance that was unfamiliar and with an unclear motive as dangerous and volatile. It would be somewhat hard to blame him for not finding a more proper word in that kind of situation.

Yet as the thief was pondering about times of war and unexperienced guards some other, much more serious prospect dawned upon him. Could it indeed be that... ? That was when he started taking flight after flight of stairs in a hurry, almost bursting his way up the dense, three-dimensional network of pathways that turned Loriindton into a giant riddle until, somewhat out of breath, he finally reached the top level to try and take a look for himself.

Predators ? There were no predators if one left out the growing number of people who had already started gathering to watch the upcoming trial session. These probably hoped for it to turn into Lyen's downfall, but could hardly be the target of any warning. Closer inspection of the horizon, as far as it could be seen, revealed an error in the otherwise fairly regular pattern of early morning mist that had gathered around the massive trunks. A heat source from below that made things billow upwards ? Or was that an actual source of smoke ?

That ignorant... Otios cut his own thoughts short for he hesitated to use that kind of derogatory word for a person he honestly respected so far. That hardly was a day since she told me and we talked about it, was it ? It was hardly a full night and they are already almost there! He engraved a mental note into the back of his head to have a word with Lady Talit later on about fancy space magic messing around with one's perception of time or the like. What did he know -- or rather not know -- about that!

In Otios' mind, it would have sufficed to deal with the Eskandr while they had already been on the leg of their journey leading away from Loriindton again just as long as the latter would still have been the only thing in range to go for if one's food was no more. They would just have been forced to turn around he had figured. But now ? Half a day worth of time available for his plan had just disappeared! Was there still enough tolerance and wiggle room left for that to work out ?

His thoughts were now racing as he tried to weigh his new set of chances. Lyen was locked away in a cell unknown to him, so dealing with that time walker Talit has described as shady at best was the chance to get her out. But... what if he'd just find nothing ? What if that blinded woman was just too clever to have suspicious shit laying around in her small, private bit of Loriindton ? Or what if she was just flat-out more innocent than Talit suspected ?

He could no longer afford to spend time he no longer had on pure gambles! What little was left now would have to be spent on things with more certainty to them. These primitive Eskandr would not hesitate to turn into what they had already been announced as once they couldn't fill their stomachs anymore, would they ? That would have to do! Maybe their aggressive arrival could even serve as a distraction to... break into the prison Lyen was locked away in directly and get her out ?

---

---

Otios made dealing with camouflage before his departure a very secondary priority. This was Yasoi territory and very close to a large city on top of that, so if anything was not suspicious here, then it was encountering a Yasoi even if the latter was in proximity of an army of maybe a few hundred Eskandr warriors. His whole plan, after all, was based on the assumption that without intervention, the Eskandr would go at long lengths in order to stay neutral towards his own kind, so he expected them not to bother him unless he did anything truly provocative.

The Eskand had formed a large, mobile outer ring about the more cumbersome, heavy equipment they carried around among the center of their ranks. Otios, from the careful distance he still maintained, could see what looked like some sort of portable fire probably meant for baking bread and roasting freshly hunted game or stolen cattle. Along that were a bunch of other wagons pulled along by draft horses: fresh grass and haystacks for their mounts, shields, swords and other weapons not currently in use. He didn't even want to know just how much of that had been taken away from dead Parrench people.

A few of the vehicles were also completely enclosed so he couldn't see what was inside at all. These were those of the most interest as the others could be ruled out as viable targets at single glance.

Perhaps these fools would let him pass through their outer ring unhindered if he just had the right fake story ? Maybe he could present himself as sort of a diplomat of a very worried Loriindton or the like who had been tasked to get in touch with them so to ensure there were no hostile intentions involved. The only problem was that his skill with the southern languages was fairly neglegible.

He considered just signaling his horse to get much closer only to then make a stop dead in their tracks. Maybe those Eskandr would neither be eager to guide hundreds of men around the tiny obstacle he'd pose, nor be willing to just let him pass through their ranks by gently flowing around him, nor allow themselves to just dispose of him for that would threaten their neutrality. Maybe they'd just have to tear down the language barrier for him from their side if they could and wanted to assess his presence here ?

What a rubbish idea! That'd never work out, so why was he even considering it!

Otios dismounted quickly and gave his horse a signal to just do what horses without a rider did. Hopefully he'd be able to find it later on. He had much more urgent issues right now and that was to find a good place to hide. A trench, a patch of very tall grass, some pile of loose dirt he could dig into or...

Or no... really ? Was that the only thing available ? A large puddle that had the stench of rotting vegetation to it! He evaluated the level of darkness it had and, very much to his disliking, found that it indeed was situated dead in the Eskand's marching route. So, albeit very grudgingly, he just allowed his almost eight feet of body in rather light clothes to sort of dive into it, laying low as much as he could as the Eskandr kept marching on and getting closer.

And then he turned into a black hole. Something that looked like an aberration, but had absolutely nothing to do with one. Light had a very electromagnetic nature, so he could influence it and just deny it to be reflected off his skin. He turned as pitch black as the swampy looking shit he had already drenched himself in, forming a merger that would hopefully be flawless enough not to be detected. This was what generations long after him would call a 'ghillie suit', just already far more advanced in a particular way while also being far behind in others.

Don't trample on me!

Don't trample on me!

Don't... Hell just chop off your fat, blistering feet with all their rotten nails and levitate over my head if you have to! Don't you idiots even believe in some kind of ship being built somewhere with the nails of the dead ? Naglfar or how do you miserable wretches call it ? Go! Feed it with all the building material you have! And don't trample on me!

Otios almost tried to shield himself from the fact that the Eskandr warriors looked all the more strong and unrelenting the closer they got by internally throwing curses at them. He just needed to survive the outer ring and then hope that the carriages wouldn't change course so much until they were where he was. It almost felt like a good thing that he couldn't allow himself to raise his head too much at this point.

Heavy boots of metal, leather or even just fur sploshed through the dirt all around him, but nobody dared to step right into a pool of liquid that looked as if would burst into a cloud of flies, frogs and leeches the moment anyone disturbed its innocence. The cart and wagon drivers however felt much more comfortable in their high seats and just kept going straight. Good! Otios made a sudden roll to the side and grabbed the first thing he could find on the rugged underside of the first of them, thereby moving on silently with the army.

---

---

As he used a gentle electric arc to slowly cut his way into the wagon's inside, some residual grain already rained down upon him and Otios had to suppress sneezing. He had found the right wagon, or maybe they were all the same... he didn't care. Sabotaging just one would hopefully suffice.

The Eskandr appeared to have found a rather lazy, but no less efficient way of storing their grain and flour. Basically the hole wagon had been built not leaving much of a gap between the different wooden boards and metal parts, so there had not been that much of a need to store things in many small bags or the like he'd have had to open and mess around with one by one. Instead there was just a large heap covered thoroughly with a thick fabric so there'd be no spilling. Excellent.

Not so excellent however was the fact that the mushroom spores he now unpacked from the inside of his clothes also had only half the time to grow and ruin things by now. It had been long since he had used them the last time and in a far less serious context on top of that, so Otios felt great insecurity rising inside him whether that would actually suffice still. These mushrooms were fast, just not... insanely fast.

He'd have to get going anyway. That oblivious army around him could make for a rest and access their food supplies with him now effectively trapped inside them anytime soon, so he opened his jar and started pouring things over the pile of flour he had uncovered. Yet, just as he was ready to dive his arms into it in order to mix the two components, he heard a a voice coming from behind him.

"Stop what you're doing!"

It was an elderly and rather female sounding tone, but completely up to the level of commanding the words it carried called for. Otios twisted on the spot, fully expecting some Eskandr he had not seen and a large spark shot forward from the tip of his hand as an involuntary, yet much more powerful extension of the stimulus his nervous system had just been given.

The bright flash just vanished in front of the other person leaving behind nothing but a vibrant, still very spark-like looking, incomprehensibly dark something that now just floated in the tight space between the two Yasoi for a brief moment until it had slowly drifted out of the wagon as the latter moved on. Given the height of the vehicle, the phenomenon was well above the heads of the soldiers marching outside, and over all their urge to make progress in difficult terrain there was no indication of anybody truly noticing it in the air.

"I have been aware of you and your plan, I just had not precise enough of an insight yet to know where and when exactly things would happen, otherwise I'd have tried to stop you sooner. You will not sacrifice Loriindton for your machinations!" the time walker continued no less sternly, obviously blinded yet still staring at Otios. The latter found himself rather frozen at this point, taking moments to even just start speaking as he realized whom he was dealing with.

"Sacrifice Loriindton ? What tells you that ?"

"You think those Eskandr will just knock at the door and ask for food ?"

"Hell no! I think they'll be horribly unprepared for a raid they had neither planned for nor been given a buy-in from their king."

"Eskandr ? Unprepared ? Lightning fast, highly flexible strikes are the very definition of Eskand military doctrine so far in this war, didn't you learn that from your Parrench husoi friends ?"

"Husoi friends ? What husoi friends!" Otios exclaimed a bit more loudly, borderlining on what he deemed still save so nobody outside could hear it. "I don't have any husoi friends! I am just picking the lesser of two evils!"

The time walker arched an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. "Huh ? Are you ? Weren't you still a young child the last time the Parrench unleashed their egostic horrors upon our kind ? How can you even dare to speak of lesser evils!"

"Look at the present and not the future for once, old woman!" he now almost hissed. "The Eskandr are doing at least as bad as the Parrench ever did, and there is no stable peace to be expected from them! You think they'll stop feeding off this part of the world once they're done with the Parrench ? No, they'll just be a replacement for their cruelties. A replacement we are far less familiar with than the Parrench!"

It was now the time walker's turn to raise her voice more loudly. He raised her gnarled walking cane and prodded his chest with it. "Why do you even care! You really think you're more clever than our elders, our leaders, those with way more experience in political affairs ? You didn't even live long among us for such a long time, but along those Parrench! You even traveled to Relouse to join their war effort, didn't you ?"

Just... how does she know ? The timer walker evolved into a more and more scary mystery for Otios by the second for some serious insight she was capable of revealing would have been an understatement.

"Lady Talit is one of the leaders, isn't she ? Isn't she even considered the most powerful of all or the like ? Then you might want to know it was her who convinced me to join all of this!"

The time walker's face almost seemed to turn into stone for a brief moment. "Oh..." was all she said, now frowning. "That bothersome person... She's sorta lost, just like you are right now. I repeat myself one final time: Stop what you're doing! And then just leave and let others handle this!"

How did this old, crooked woman even dare! Otios' fist just launched forward and aimed right for her face, but the cart rumbled over a pothole that very moment and he missed, momentarily losing balance and ending with his head banging against the wall. The sheer size and the presence of so much heavy stuff inside made nobody notice the ruckus from outside.

"You can't escape your fate this way!" She pointed her gnarled walking cane towards him more permanently now, denying him a second frontal approach in the very confined space they were in. "I can leave the way I have come and you might still leave the way you have come. You trying to fight me out of this will get you nowhere however. I am an old woman in no position to stop you physically while you could hit me with your gift or just your limbs any time, but what would the Eskandr say once they take their breakfast and discover my dead or unconscious body in here ?"

Otios' thoughts raced, going through the hypothetical situation, and the conclusion was that he just could not allow for that to happen. The whole plan was also based around the idea of it looking like sort of an accidental contamination and that would go out the window with any Yasoi seen inside once these doors opened. The whole story he hoped for -- the Eskandr attacking the Yasoi and not the latter going against them in the first place -- would be lost. Would the rest of the Yasoi nation outside of Loriindton even be willing to follow once learning who had been attacking whom first ? Leaving evidence behind for the Eskandr to discover and find their own, special solution for it was far too unpredictable.

"My very presence here, no matter what you do with it, makes your plan impossible. And... do you really want to end like your lightning bolt ?" she continued as she grew increasingly impatient about his thinking pause.

Otios was very much on the verge of giving in and accepting this whole affair as a failure he could still get out of pretty much unscathed. He could not proceed with her in here, but he could also not proceed with just even trying to dispose of her either. "Okay..." he started somewhat hesitantly. "I give in. I've not yet really started mixing spores and flour, I can still remove them just by carefully extracing that small spot I've opened over there." and he pointed to his 'workplace' not even really knowing if she had some way of noticing that gesture.

The time walker smiled as she gave a gentle nod towards him. Was that her way of feeling triumphant ?

He marched over and kneeled, digging his arms into the large heap so to gratuitously move away the clearly discoloured patch. Yet then he suddenly just cranked both of his limbs upwards, effectively shoveling as much of the flour as he could into the air over his head before moving his fingers close to one of the steel reinforcements running along the wagon's walls. That had just been one open threat too much coming from her!

"What does your lousy fortune telling say about sparks flying in a cloud of combustible dust ?" he taunted her. "This is a confined space, just like a windmill! You think you can work your magic fast enough to escape this kind of explosion or prevent me from igniting it ? The Eskandr will never find us since both of us will be scattered around the forest in tiny, bloody bits! Their food however will be gone and who knows how many of their proud warriors will be injured by the debris! I know how much pain and desperation can aggravate those berserkers when they feel like its coming from a cowardice assault! I was at Relouse, not you! Leave, or you might not even have the chance for helping Loriindton against the Eskand for you'd just be dead already!"

The time walker grimaced, then disappeared into seeming nothingness just the same way Lady Talit had. The moment that happened Otios thought he'd hear a few more words: "You will regret what you've done, one way or the other."

---

---

Slightly shaking, Otios now touched the metal to actually gently discharge any static charges that might have been waiting to strike. He'd have to clean up this mess, make it look like nothing happened, and then mix gently and properly. It was only during this cleanup operation that he was actually forced to inspect all parts of the wagon more thoroughly, thereby discovering some other items he had not really paid attention to previously. They had some fungus around here, too, and he had a suspicion what these might be good for. A tiny piece of them in his mouth and the increased heartbeat, sweating and slight euphory he felt soon after swallowing gave confirmation.

These elite warriors wanted some reckless, careless, highly aggressive frenzy ? They could have it! That would rule out a diplomatic solution all the more. Soon there were two fungi in the flour, one of them ready and another who'd hopefully act as sort of a backup plan once grown.

Otios left the wagon the same way he got in, putting the piece of floor he had cut out back into place so nobody would see any hole. Another burst of curses later and the rearguard had passed by him without noticing him laying flat on the dark, soft ground. Only once back on his horse, the Yasoi actually noticed the ugly looking, blood-sucking attachments to his legs that hid their activity with natural painkillers and anticoagulants.

These would fall off at some point, but would the time walker let go of him ? It was not the possibility of her spreading the word about his doings here that worried him. Who'd be going to listen when the Eskandr were already tearing the place down. And who'd give her any credibility given the fact she had not used her advanced knowledge to issue a general warning beforehand in the first place ?

No... it was that mysterious phenomenon she had caused. He didn't want to end up displaced in time.

---

---

---

---

Chad’orast’ilan’chiis stood as Lyen was taken from her place by the same guards that led her there. A single clap was enough to hush the quiet whispers that had followed her interview. “We now ask Calitan’Viszar’Telrontelios to approach for questioning.”

Dyric returned to his place; not sparing so much as a glance in the direction of his sister. The powergazer moved towards the table again, joining the elders in waiting for the stranger to approach.

He was used to eyes on him, and it brought on the same surge of adrenaline that came before every fight, and begged the same question: will I survive this? Time seemed to fall away like pine needles.

His ‘comrades’... What did they see? A cunning maneuver, vouching for an enemy, or the truth?

Idiocy.

He went to one knee, “Give me your questions, and my truth I will trade.”

“Your name,” The powergazer asked first, her voice so soft as to barely reach his ears. “Your home,” she continued, her eyeless face staring at Calitan. “Your family” The questions were listed, all innocuous under normal circumstances, but delivered with an intensity that left the audience quiet until it was finished. The powergazer nodded towards Dyric and motioned for her interviewee to stand.

The former wasted no time to begin his circling. "Let us start with this; what is it that brought you to our city during such troubled times stranger?"

“What brought us all here, sirrah,” his s’s whistled through his deformed lip.

"What would you presume that to be?"

"The mette-stiroi of course."

Dyric folded his hands in front and nodded "Merit's renown reaches far and we have many visitors, it's true. Where did you come from?"

"The decisions I've made and the road behind me. Ask better questions, sirrah."

Dyric's placid face twitched into a half smirk. "Your honesty is apparent. Let me be more clear then: Who commanded you come here?"

"Better, but I do not think that is a helpful question. You could say it was a colour. You could say it was my will. You could say it was Vyshta. I say it was all three. So why don't we focus on what matters?"

"I am grateful to have your approval." Their exchange had brought enough levity to the somber proceedings to produce a smattering of laughter. "What is it you claim to have seen in the moments before Merit's death?"

"Not enough to condemn another, at least not outright. No drawing. But the lady is a maledict, so..." Calitan shrugged, "I still think I have fought enough to know what their death dealing feels like."

"You don't proclaim her innocent?"

"Nor do I proclaim her guilty. But I know which way the scales tilt."

"So you continue to say nothing certain at all." He turned from his subject with a wave of his hand. "I will play along no longer. He is yours sister"

Talit stood, crutches forming under her arms as she did.
"How many a maledict would you say you’ve fought, Calitan?" She asked as she approached with her strange gait.

Calitan thumbed through the ears of his necklace, "Nine."

Talit grimaced, taking a closer look at each of the pointed ears. "Enough to be familiar." She acquiesced. "But have you ever met this one, Lyen, before these past two nights?”

"Only travelling here. In a game of Three Yellow Roses. Is she innocent now?"

Talit scowled but ignored the man’s snideness. “You had no reason to defend a stranger lest you knew her to be mistakenly judged. Where is your certainty now?”

“If it was such a simple matter we would not be here. I believe her to be innocent, yet I have been known to be wrong before.”

"Rarely wrong when it comes to maledict magics." She nodded to the string of ears around his neck again. "You are excused Calitan'Viszar. I have no more questions." No guards made to escort the scarred Yasoi away. As quickly as the attention had settled on him it dissipated; interest already changed to the next witness.

In total five took the stand. And as each passed, the patience of the crowd wavered. The sun made itself scarce, and one by one the citizens of Loriindton returned to their homes as it became clear no justice would be found the first day. More witnesses vied for Lyen's innocence and guilt;

Some defending the magic of maledicts, professing that casting without drawing is impossible. Others claimed to have sensed her draw earlier in the evening and perhaps this had been enough- One woman claimed to have seen Lyen poison Merit’s glass herself. It was all a contradicting mess that revealed only one absolute truth: Merit had died the exact moment Lyen laid hands on her.

---

A morning breeze carrying the scent of smoke and burning fat drew Ogmund from slumber, and sent him into an imitate fury. The source was easily found only a few meters south from the camp. His men were found encircled around a fire, interacting in as hushed tones as could be expected from an entire contingent of Eskandr forces. Ogmund stepped over the two closest and, to many vocal complaints, kicked the cooking set-up aside to stop out the small flames.

"What did I say about fires? We're too close to the tree dwellers." He glared at the group, they had to have been at it as soon as his watch had finished. Damned fools. Damn himself for not waking to put an end to it.

"Been four days since our last hot-meal. How's a man to keep his wits about on an empty stomach?" Soldi moaned, making no effort to look ashamed, instead leaning back in his place and patting his notably bloated stomach.

"By following orders." Throwing on a blanket to extinguish any remaining embers put an end to any further argument. "Clean up and pack; I want to be out of these woods by sundown." He turned heel from the scene as the soldiers hastily finished the remains of their breakfast, keeping their complaints as grumbles among themselves as they readied to move.

"Here," Before they set out, Soldi came to Ogmund with the last of the food; a charred strip of meat folded in a flatbread. "Not warm anymore," He shrugged "But still better than what we've been having."

Ogmund only gave a nod in thanks, but only tucked the meal into his bags. He'd not acquit their wrong-doing by taking part, however he hungered for fresh food.

It was barely a mile into their march when the strangeness began:

"
"Nax luin yani dii'luin abe rot hax'oft!" The voice was unnaturally loud and echoing with the dense foliage. The language recognizable only because of its foreignness. Yasoi. A shiver ran down Ogmund's spine. How long had the forest been so quiet?

"Who's there?!" Shouted one of the men, "Where are you?"

Ogmund whirled "Quiet! What do you-" But he was interrupted by more of the strange lilting tongue.

“Huusoi? Tai soceh abost juu nash!”

A mist rose from the ground, a clear trick of the Gift that only only a few men seemed to recognize. The rest shouted back, heedless of their leader's orders, frantically moving as though to push away the fog that began to envelop them.

No response came to the soldiers, but the exchange between their watchers continued: ”Joi di'thiir Eskand'huusoi? Tuum tai fep!"

In the same moment he recognized the word referring to the homeland, Ogmund heard weapons being drawn behind him, on turning he found Soldi. The sight of a raging berserker was unmistakable. Entering such a state was supposed to be impossible without heavy use of the gift or the intense frenzy of battle; and was never an accident. Even after Ogmund commanded the man to still, he was already surging towards the trees in search of the voices' source.

"Dii'esct yanii, wiip'tuum wes tuum'oft abe juvet?"

It wasn't just Soldi. A dozen men followed him into the forest, axes raised and screaming a bloody battle-cry, then more with them, until all but those unaffected by the rage remained. Ogmund found himself left with fifteen men looking to him for orders. "Stop them from getting any further into the forest!" No more lines came, but a chilling laugh followed them in their pursuit.

It was a hopeless attempt. As fast as they ran it was no match for the inhuman speed and endurance that came with a berserk rage. The first group had long halted when they were eventually reached. Just in time for Ogmund and the others arrived only in time to see the first volley of fire leave the hand of an Eskandr soldier to embed itself into a tree above him. In mere seconds the single branch transformed the entire section of forest into a wall of flames.

---

It wasn’t long after Lyen was returned back to her room that she fell asleep. Exhaustion from staying awake so long finally beating out her anxiety enough to give her a few hours rest. Her dreams were short and frantic, and when she woke only a few hours later, she hardly felt a difference had been made. But food was waiting for her, and it was at least something to do.

There was no stopping her thoughts from circling the trial as she ate. Dyric had played a dirty trick, and after the scarred man’s non-committal interview, there didn’t seem to be anyone left who wanted to so much as consider her innocence. The truth remained though. And it would reveal itself, such was the purpose of keeping a timewalker at all.

She had only partly finished when Talit’s face appeared in her doorway without the usual warning of her crutched gait or even the guard's acknowledging her presence.

“Is it that time again already?”

The younger woman shook her head. “No, and the guards can’t see or hear us, but we only have a few moments,”

Lyen straightened, and held back the reflexive questions.“Then tell me what you came here for.”

“To tell you to be ready, I’ve spoken with Otios, and it’s given me an idea. We can pull the blame off you and Perrence in a single act. Just- Be ready to move when it happens.”

“During the trial?”

“Hopefully before, I have to go.”

There were of course countless more questions Lyen had ready, even before Talit had finished answering the first. But she’d vanished as suddenly as she’d appeared. It had been time magic, Lyen concluded as she finished her meal. What less could be expected from Vyshta’s most favoured?

As accepting of Talit’s haste as she’d been at the time, it didn’t take long for Lyen to become vexed at her vagueness. How was she supposed to ready herself if she had no idea when or what even for? She paced the small plain room until she was certain dawn had to have passed, but a call to her guards heeded no more than a shout to remain quiet. There was little else she could do but draw and deplete a small pool of essence mana from her own body, ready to reflexively cast.

It was mid-day by Lyen’s best guess when someone finally entered the hallway. A stranger she vaguely recognised as one of the costumed jesters on the mette’stiroi, though his appearance was much less festive and demeanor infinitely less jovial.

“The city is under attack, we need everyone outside!”

Lyen pressed herself up to the small hole in her door, desperate to make out what she could of the men outside. The three guards looked to each other then the intruder. “What of the prisoner?”

“One of you take her to be held in the council’s chambers for now. You other two come with me; they’re burning the trees, Exiran spare us.”

Lyen found herself alone but for one remaining guard that gripped her forearm as he led her out the building.

“Don’t think about trying any of y…..” His sentence never finished as his hard set frown was replaced with a vacant, slightly blissful expression as Lyen’s magic took near immediate effect.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She said flatly as the disorientation eventually brought the armored man to the floor. Without further hesitation she made for the final door between her and freedom.

A billow of hot air, clouded thick with smoke greeted her at the entrance. Outside was pandemonium. But the blaze, only a few feet away, commanded immediate attention. Already it was well into the city and extended well beyond her vision. All around Yasoi ran, scattering in search of family and treasure as they made their escape. The true attack didn’t arrive until Lyen had already committed herself to destroying the parts of untouched trees too close to the flame, desperate to aid in halting the fires before they came any closer.

They seemed to emerge from the fire themselves; screaming barbarians, wielding their weapons at anything that moved in their reach. Lyen was brought back to the witch wood, how desperate she’d been to help her people then. She looked at the blood covered axes of Eskandr tearing Loriindton asunder and prayed to each of the gods by name that this wasn’t the event Talit had planned.

---

---

Location: Battle at the foot of Mount Errant
Mood: ”Black Dragon” by Peter Roe
Current Event: Fields of Fire

---

Was it too late? Caelum asked himself as 300 Parrench engulfed in flames before him. Burning flesh wafted into his nostrils almost bringing him to his knees. He watched as their leverage over the Eskandr fled behind the scorched earth left in the wake of the Dragon’s flame throwing breathes. The Dragon had swept in one pass and began to come in for a second. Caelum clenched his fists feeling helpless to protect those who were already torched. It may have been too late to save them, but there were all the others who needed their knights more than ever. The Dragon charged for the second pass of fire.

---

---

Location: Outside of the Village, close to Mount Errant
Current Event: Fields of Fire

---

Caelum’s foot slid back as he defended against the strength of his sparring partner, Jacques de Flamere. Jacques was a fireblood which increased his arcanist gift beyond his wheel test of 3. The 5’11” fair skinned Parrenchman was eloquent in his technique, and had no issues expressing his confidence. A man Caelum respected and quite often battled against when sparring days of training were in session. Jacques pulled his blade back and gained distance from Caelum’s position. He had been slowly drawing in air and converting it to arcane energy. Jacques had decided he had enough to put Caelum down after stalling with steel-to-steel combat.

“Are you ready…friend.” Jacques’ head was tilted down as to conceal his eyes, his voice flexed with a condescending tone, and a smirk grew to the corner of his left cheek. Jacques certainly revealed a devilish appeal to intimidate the young Caelum, the most recent Paladin graduate of the Unconquered Sun.

Caelum could feel the heat in the air begin to rise. Small droplets of sweat began to form around his brow and cheeks beading down the side of his jawline. What is he doing? Jacques lifted his head revealing fiery eyes, “May Oraphe keep you,” Jacques announced before clapping his hands together which forced a blaze of raging fire toward Caelum propelled to move quickly by Jacques’ Force. Caelum’s perception tricked him as the barreling flames appeared slow in approach at first, and then it was right in his face. He could feel the intensity of the heat almost sear his flesh of his cheek bones.

Before the flames could entirely wrap around Caelum’s body, a loud thunderous crack snapped both Caelum and Jacques out of their moments.

“Enough!” Commander Aldrith shouted as lightning broke Jacques’ flames apart and nullified the heated atoms. Caelum could not believe it, Lightning can stop fire? Commander Aldrith was a titan of men, some believed the armor he wore was impossible to wear without his tremendous gift in Force. But, it was his knowledge of lightning that always seemed to capture the inspiration of his men.

Commander Aldrith stood over Caelum asking, “You are talented in lightning, correct?” Caelum responded as he slowly pulled himself up, “Yes sir.” As he reached to the height of attention across from Aldrith, a swift blow to his cranium shattered any coherent return to stability. Aldrith had smacked him back to the ground,“Then use it.”

---

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Location: Battle at the foot of Mount Errant
Mood: ”Black Dragon” by Peter Roe
Current Event: Fields of Fire

---

Caelum looked at the Dragon as it was about to rain hell’s fury from above a second time. Another 300 Parrench could not be another outcome. Caelum’s question became inconsequential, Of course it was not too late! His emotions began to well up inside him; he began drawing enormous amounts of energy from his environment and looked at the Dragon’s head to see where the flames would expel down from. He had to time his strike to nullify the heated atoms produced by the dragon’s breath as Aldrith did before Jacques nearly roasted him.

The Dragon began to open its mouth, and the moment was now. Caelum released an enormous amount of lightning as the flames came toward the retreating Parrench, attempting to reorganize under the instruction of the Queen. Caelum's electrical counter-attack left most of the Dragon’s fire to dissolve into the air before reaching the ground. Caelum feeling more energized than drained thanks to Oraphe, looked back down at the ground. This effort only bought the Parrench time to retreat, but where would they seek refuge against a beast that covered the sky?

---

Under the city, light filtered weakly into the catacombs through sewer grates and crumbling entrances. It was the pale, flickering yellow of the occasional lantern, bobbing from a wagon’s hook or an early-riser’s hand. The sun had not risen, but if the gray dim was anything to judge by, it was no more than an hour or so away.

Osanna stifled a yawn in the sleeve of her voluminous black cloak, her eyes prickling with the dry ache of having spent far too many hours peeled open. Searching the catacombs at night and playing servant or tutor by day was wearing her thin, but it would not last much longer. It was probably a construct of a very tired mind, but Osanna thought she could feel the tension pooling in Meldheim, a miasma thickening as the various pieces moved into their starting positions. One more day, maybe two, and then she could rest on the long—hopefully uneventful— trip back to friendlier pastures.

It was still near-dark when Osanna reached the exit she had found the night before. It was above her head, a heavy iron door set above rotting wooden rungs. She dropped the heavy rucksack she’d slung over her shoulder—that ladder didn’t look like it could take any extra weight, and hauled herself into the empty space at the back of a dirty, crowded alley. It was empty, so she settled in to wait.

---

After uniting with the Parrench operatives and Pentad converts, Asier started to better understand what had been going on. It seemed a detachment was sent to cause some trouble, and he was on board from the moment they said their plans. He was to meet up with Osanna, the woman he last saw before the battle, working to secure the ‘guests of Arcel’, a fancy term for hostages from the royal palace.

After being cleaned up to appear like a respectable Eskandr warrior, he made his way to the meeting point down the back alley, spotting the hooded figure. With a gruff and terrible impression, he spoke out towards her with one of their war cries. “Det som er dødt kan aldri dø! - what is dead may never die” he holds out his arms towards her, hoping for some kind of recognition as he approaches, then speaking quieter, “Donc, couper la tête du serpent. - So cut off the snake's head.”

Osanna’s shoulders relaxed as he approached, hardly perceptible beneath the cloak. “I think today, it is their hearts we’re striking at.”

Asier nods as he glances his eyes across to the building looming in the backdrop. “The heart is the most important organ. Gives us courage, passion, and love. Be good to see if they are motivated for things other than greed, envy, and lust.”

”They’re just as human. I doubt our motivations are all that different at heart. Come. We can talk more freely below.”

Osanna disappeared. At first, it was impossible to see where she had gone in the shadows before the sun rose, but upon closer inspection, the black maw of a hole leading downward opened up behind stacks of crates and small piles of refuse. Osanna’s voice echoed up from within. “Step lightly—this ladder won’t hold up much longer.”

He moves towards the darkness as he descends into the abyss, the wood whining and bending as it takes his weight as he steps further down, following his ally. “You’re likely correct, though one likes to think we do follow a nobler purpose.”

”You could say we follow the same purpose as well—to serve our respective Gods. Really, it comes down to who you believe in, which God will come for your soul when you die.”

“These are the days of Echeran, though once there was death, comes life. Let’s hope we reach the days of Oraphe once this war is over.”

Once his feet were once more on solid ground, Osanna scurried back up the ladder to close and lock the hatch securely behind them, less a solid form than a darker patch of shadow. Dust fell in a light rain as the bolt creaked home, and the assassin followed it, dropping lightly rather than test the ladder once more. “Can you see? There’s a cloth sack at the bottom of the ladder containing a guard uniform. I guessed your size, so forgive me if it’s off, but I do have an eye for that sort of thing.”

Asier nods as he begins to undress himself in front of Osanna, taking a hold of the cloth sack as he empties it, “As long as your guess is too large, it should be workable”. The shameless horseman starts to fit himself into the garments, sliding his arms into the cloth and leathers, a far more colourful display as he is adorning the royal colours. The fit was not too terrible, though snug in some places, the voyage thankfully lost some muscle mass which would have left a lot more to be desired. “Have you been around the guards? Make note of any greetings, phrases, or patrol patterns we need to be aware of. Important relics?”. He turns towards her, somehow carrying a more tanned Eskandr guard look within the outfit.

Hidden in the cowl of her cloak, Osanna was impossible to read, but he had the impression that she gave him a once over. “That will do, I think. Just try not to speak much. If anyone asks, you’ve been rotated into the house guard to help cover additional watches. Give them a name close enough to yours to remember, but less… Parrench-sounding.” She laughed. “I’m Ositha. Nice to meet you. Best forget I’ve ever gone by anything else, please. Come on. We’ll talk as we go.”

She turned in a swish of dark fabric and strode into the gloom, taking long strides without making much noise. Cobwebs and dust blanketed the passage, and scurrying creatures scuttled out of sight. More light was beginning to work its way inside, but ahead, the path disappeared into impenetrable shadow.

Asier was impressed at how Osanna kept her composure and knew her information; he couldn’t help but admire her skill. “Ási seems simple enough. Just have to come up with something like a farmhand background.”. He got himself into the role of the house guard, clearing his throat as he does his best impression. “Lady Ositha, pass på dine skritt - mind your step.”

“Thank you, Guardsman, Ási,” Osanna said, laughing. “The guards patrol the keep either alone or in pairs, checking the more heavily populated areas more frequently. There is a contingent constantly stationed around the Queen, and usually one or two trying to keep up with the royal children, though they don’t always succeed. On the day of the attack, I’ll need that to be you, if you can manage it. If not, meet me in the kitchens after you feel the tug.”

Ási nods as he absorbs the information. It seems he would have somewhat free reign of the palace if he passed with being alone. Typically it is simply acting like you belong there to avoid unnecessary suspicion. As for the children, that shouldn’t be too difficult, simply offer them something fun and exciting and they will follow you out willingly. He does make a mental note to have that talk with Maëlle when he returns home. He does raise an eyebrow at the last statement, “The tug?”.

”Oh! That’s right. You rode over with the Eskandish. You’ll have to tell me how you got away later. I’m sure that’s an interesting tale. By tug, I mean the signal Maud will send us. It feels like someone pulling on your ear.”

He nods confirming the assumption that they know he is present. As for the story, it was definitely an interesting and long tale, though the comment spurs something to memory. “We may have reinforcements, sea raiders, coming to sack the palace and might provide a good distraction. They may want water access to the palace and the treasury. Do you know such a route?”

She sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. “I believe there are a few sea entrances in the catacombs but I’ve yet to find them. I could do that this morning, but I’m exhausted and I’m not sure how we would get the location to them in time—if I could even find them. These tunnels are vast and I’ve yet to uncover any sort of map. I know the entrance where you met me, the way into the keep through the kitchens, and a path that lets out on the far side of Meldheim. That is where we will take our charges when the time comes.”

He noticed the tonal shift in her expression, only offering a smile. “These are not your… average sea raiders, they are sea people. We need all the help we need. A lantern at the entrance should allow them to find it” He scratched upon his chin, “Will use the rounds as an opportunity to make a mental map of the palace. Especially the kitchen.”

“Sea people…” her voice was full of wonder. “Well, I suppose that changes things.”

A few minutes later, Osanna stopped at another ladder. This one was in better condition and it showed signs of recent use—probably her coming and going as she worked out where the various passages led. She laid a hand on it and listened for a moment, the tunnels filling with a silence so profound, it made his ears ache and the sound of his breathing oddly loud.
Osanna put one hand on the ladder. “Be careful looking for relics. Other than the throne, the Tree of Life, they keep them well hidden. I’ve only found a few interesting eggs, despite the fact that I had my hopes pinned on stealing away their Monsigneus Dragon-Tooth sword. And Asier, no matter what you do, avoid Dietrich Erhaben at any cost. He’s already suspicious of me.”

“Lady Ositha gets the sword, got it”, he grins as she starts to mull over the other information. The Tree of Life certainly sounds interesting, so taking a few seeds and fruit from that might be worthwhile and easy to conceal.

She laughed.”If you find it, it’ll make my day, but don’t worry about it.”

“This Dietrich, what is the story with him?”

“The long and the short of it is that I messed up, and he has an idea that I might not be who I said I was. Rookie mistake, really. A bit embarrassing. With any luck, though, we’ll be out of here before it causes problems and I’ll swap the whole story with you for the one of your escape.”

The assassin led the way up the ladder and into a well-stocked pantry that smelled faintly of yeast and flour and salted meat. There was more light here, and he could see her plainly. She smiled and dusted off his shoulders before giving him directions to the guard house. “You look the part, Guardsman Asi. Just keep your head down. I’ve got a sea-facing door or two.”

With that, she disappeared back down into the dark.

After that farewell, it is time to start his duties, making his way to the guard house whilst swiping a morning bread roll from the pantry.

---

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---

The Eskandr woman was a worthy opponent. Had she not been in a race with him to prisoners that she had taken, Maerec might have even commended her about her prowess. Feeling no need to kill the woman outright, he managed to incapacitate her, bind her, and toss her on the back of her own horse. Hopping on, he slowly circled the area until Marquis Percival and his men caught up.

It didn’t take as long as expected for Percival to reunite with him. By that point, Maerec had been petting the bridge of the horse’s nose as he kept an eye on Ulfhild. He heard Percivcal before even seeing him. How noisy can one noble be? “Yes, m’lord?” Maerec breathed as he looked over to the man. He… wasn’t as quick on his feet as he thought Percy would be. Those arrows sticking out of him were proof of that. Even so, he seemed to be relatively fine considering how much breath he was wasting on fluttering words.

Maerec let his hand slide from the horse to the reins and he led the horse over to someone who would take it from him. “I will move in double haste–” He began to reply, but was abruptly silenced by the sudden overwhelming feeling of chaos. It was like a fierce ocean wave that crashed into the knight, forcing him to dig his heels into the earth and regain himself.

The sky was burdened by dark clouds that reflected the light of magic and fire. He could feel it all around him–someone had cast something and his own prisoner was now stirring. She was the least of his problems though, as he looked toward where he had last seen the Queen’s army, only to see flames scorch the earth and a massive body in the sky flap its wings to circle around for another attack.

“Oh no…” Maerec breathed, disheartened and filled with dread at what he would find. What had happened in his absence?!

“Eskandr!” He called out to Ulfhild, knowing by now she had recovered enough. “The dragon’s attacked where both of our allies stood last. You should go to yours just as I go to mine. I will not stop you.” He said this loud enough for Percival to hear. “Even with my victory over you, I offer you this gesture only to help me protect those that cannot protect themselves from the dragon.” He pointed over to the couple villagers that used to be her prisoners. “Even if you choose not to assist me in this, I will not stop you. Please understand that if more innocent lives are lost today, I cannot guarantee this offer would stand if we meet again.”

Maerec began to trot forward, getting a running start as he began to store energy in his heels. He was charging up, preparing to head back to the Queen’s armee. “Sir Percival! Head back to the cave at the base of the mountain! I shall bring reinforcements!” With that, he lowered himself and once again used his fingertips to steady himself on the ground before bolting off, leaving the others in his wake.

---

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---

Just by the sight, Maerec could see just how much the Parrench had lost. How many lives were snuffed out at the maws of that dragon? The field buzzed with energy from all of the movement. People were running everywhere trying to find somewhere to take refuge. Nothing here would be able to withstand the dragon’s fire.

Darkened eyes lit up only momentarily as lightning struck out at the dragon in the sky, interrupting another stream of fire. Caelum’s doing, no doubt. Thank Oraphe he was still alive. Did that mean Camille and the Queen were also alive? And Arsene? He had to search for them.

It didn’t take long with his speed to find those he was looking for through all of the carnage. “To the north! There are caves at the bottom of the mountains where we can take shelter!” He called over the sounds of chaos after gathering everyone close enough for them to hear him. “If we get everyone to mount up we can ride there quickly. It isn’t far from here.”

Unknown to him at first, a certain Hildr was close enough to hear as well. “There are still some villagers that the Eskandr had taken prisoner at the caves. Maybe someone would know how we can stop this beast. We must stop it.”

---

Perhaps one could only wonder just how far Loriindton's signals went these unfortunate hours. The sheer sight of a burning, smoking, vast patch of a giant forest might already have overtaken the news about Merit's sudden death on its travel out into the world. Or were these really unfortunate hours actually ? Everything went according to plan from a strictly logical point of view, but the environment the Eskandr were creating right now, filled with the screams of many of Loriindton's inhabitants, felt more than just a little discomforting still.

Otios' thoughts were filled with different things than remorse, but he himself did not really know at this ploint whether this was simply due to his convincement not having changed a bit or just because there were too many other concerns competing for his attention. The rapidly increasing amount of burning wood not only consumed a lot of oxygen, but more importantly it created a violent updraft that in turn sucked in fresh air from all around. A firestorm was about to develop and if things came to worse, it could become powerful enough to pull people into its very center.

There were still trees standing that were not, or at least not fully, engulfed in flames yet. Whatever piece of housing or hovel was mounted on those could be used as a starting point to launch attacks from above. The same held true for those hanging bridges that were still left in place, but these were much more dangerous as a long free fall was in store for anyone unfortunate enough to stand upon them in the moment of their destruction.

Otios felt like the third dimension could be a decisive advantage. The typical Huusoi settlement barely made any use of it and even their capital cities had always seemed comparatively flat when directly compared against Loriindton, so maybe the Eskandr warriors were not so accustomed to it ? On top of that those under the effect of berserk did not seem to know much in terms of left and right anymore anyway. The only direction they still were very much aware of was straight ahead -- and one could not simply rush into the sky!

The one factor standing in the way of exploiting this dimension were the gifted Eskandr hurling spells all around. Even if the precision was a bit lacking at times, the destruction was imposing nontheless and made precision less of a necessity in the first place. Otios could only guess whether the fact of those mages just burning themselves out would actually become an important factor in this battle. He still deemed Lyen to be in a prison cell for he had not witnessed her retaking her freedom, but maybe a prison cell was not the unsafest place right now ? He therefore focused on trying to take out those of the Eskandr blessed with the gift. He had initiated this, now he felt obliged to minimize the... negative side effects.

Otios and a few other Yasoi had gathered on a small platform high up in the more Eastern part of Loriindton. Those gifted with thunder knew just how useful others having the same gift could be. They had formed a row winding around the massive trunk. The one on the front side held a short iron rod in his outstreched hand while the one on the back side had a firm group about Otios' wire and whatever other piece of conductive cord they had been able to find that was long enough to run all the way to the ground. Everyone between these two was holding the hands of his front and rear neighbour.

A living series circuit! That way each of them, even those with a much more humble amount of the gift, could contribute to a much greater amount of range and power than any of them would have been able to achieve individually. Those Eskandr they managed to hit with their lightning bolts coming from the metal rod did not just die. The parts of their bodies hit by the lightning strikes burst into a cloud of vapor, smoke and molten armor.

Not so great was the whole aspect of coordination though: One of the Yasoi had given in to the hectic at one point and not paid attention to the correct polarity. The poor man had thereby not only worked against the overall effort, but also put himself into a state somewhere between 'overcharged' and 'fried'. They had no idea whether he'd let his magic smoke out or not. And that hadn't even happed while switching hands and handing over the metal rod to another person who happened to have a more preferable point of view!

---

Interaction with: @Dao Ma

---

No matter the wounds that healed, something was hurting more than anything she felt before. Perhaps it would have been better for the knight to have bled out, perhaps she has become too well mannered to even be considered a comrade. Is that why she is feeling this way? Having no home on this battlefield?

But in the spot where her honor and pride used to be was not emptied, it has been completely replaced with scorn for the Eskandr who sullied her pride, for the Perrench with their holy idiocy and Wulfric, her lord that couldn't care less for the deceased.


"Stop a beast like that? You'd need to be strong and steadfast to even try fighting. Most of your comrades seem ready to run for it, O' Courageous knight." The shamed knight sneered at the thought of stopping that thing. "Don't trust the words of the villagers. Only thing they can tell you are tall tales. If they knew how to stop it, they would have done so ages ago."

Soon enough she would walk towards the knight trying to gather men, placing her hand on his shoulder. It seems she had quite the deadpan look on her face. "Boy, have you ever fought a beast like that before? . . . If not, it might be better to flee. You will be sending yourself and anyone you bring with to almost certain death." Her grip on his shoulder was enough to put serious strain onto his attire. "I've already seen enough senseless death, don't be the one to add to that."

---

”Prepare yourself Birger. Our task begins at the first sight of smoke.” Gerard expectantly touched his staff, which was hidden on his back by his slightly oversized traveller’s cloak. The two men stood at the ready near the base of the hill next to a wooden cart, waiting for their fellow infiltrators throughout the city to follow through with the plan. They were accompanied as well by three Parrenchmen in disguise. The nearby civilians had either evacuated the immediate area or locked themselves in their homes. Word of the rampaging pinniped was spreading quickly.

”I have been prepared for this long before you set foot on our motherland. I knew it would come to this someday.” Birger looked solemnly up at the majestic Grontempel, its richly decorated spires just barely visible over the hilltop. Gerard’s expression was inscrutable as he looked sideways at the Eskandr convert.

”Get a good look. This will be the last time you’ll see it again.” He warned. Birger looked back at the wizard but made no reply.

After several minutes passed, the signs of the raid became visible. A grey plume of smoke rose from the northwest quarter of the city, growing darker and larger until a cloud began to form over Meldheim. The fire attack had begun. Clandestine agents had been distributed at key locations with jugs of oil. At the predetermined time, they were ordered to set parts of the city ablaze in order to sew chaos and occupy the garrison. The Parrench had purposefully set the fire upwind so that it would continue to perpetuate through the wooden city on its own. The flame would become an inferno within the hour.

Long have I waited for this. Gerard pulled out his staff and held it up high, drawing upon the infinite power of the sun. He greedily syphoned as much solar energy as his four wheel capacity would allow. Once he was at his limit, the priest opened the door and let his magic free. Hundreds of little flames erupted from the staff’s dragon pearl core and set every house in the vicinity on fire. There was an immediate reaction as a few dozen civilians escaped their homes in a mass panic. When they saw the overwhelming amount of smoke and ash blowing in from the west, the disorganised mob began running towards the seaboard. Gerard and his followers gave the people a wide berth as they passed by, going mostly unnoticed as the herd mentality overtook the fleeing citizens.

Using the torched houses as fuel, Gerard pulled the blaze towards him and sent a tongue of fire towards the green temple. It was a beautiful work of art, and impressively large too, but it was not a stone castle of the north. The Grontempel exploded into a wildfire just as easily as the rest of the wooden city.

”Okay, let’s go.” Gerard ordered. Birger and the other men started pushing the cart up the hill as fast as they could while the Rezaindian gave them all an invisible push. During their hurried advance up the hill they passed many fleeing pilgrims, some of whom were being carried by their friends and family. Whether knocked unconscious by smoke or scorched by the heat, many failed to escape the burning temple uninjured. When Gerard saw the harm he had done, for a moment he felt guilty. However, the compassion he had shown when rescuing a child was now quieted by seething hatred. These people had chosen to turn from the Pentad’s light and now he was here to deliver their punishment. If they wanted to be spared the coming fire they should have converted long ago, as Birger had.

”Wait.” Gerard stopped his squad a few metres away from the gate. He closed his eyes and reached with his mind towards the ocean. He channelled the endless motion of the waves and, wielding his magic like a hammer, ripped apart the ancient double doors. It was not an elegant solution by any means, but his teacher was the murderous witch named Thorunn Silverhair.

The wagon was brought into the temple while Gerard held the flames at bay with sorcery. Much of the treasure had been damaged by his unrestricted assault, but there was still enough loot within to buy a small castle in the countryside. Anything made of valuable metal was pilfered. Every heirloom neskal was plundered. The Parrench took what they could and left the rest to collapse, desecrating generations of Eskandr history in less than an hour.

“The wagon is nearly full!” One of the soldiers yelled out as he dumped one last armful of silver candelabras. Gerard nodded and marched to the exit.

”Then let us be off!” The troops threw a pelt over the top of the wagon to protect their plunder and proceeded with dragging it out of the temple. It was a considerably heavier burden now with all the valuables piled within. Getting downhill without dropping the cart wouldn’t be easy.

Before the team exited the temple, Birger caught the priest’s sleeve.

”Wait a moment Sir Castello. I would ask a favour of you.” There was a grave tone in the man’s voice that caught Gerard’s full attention. He stopped in his tracks and faced the Eskandr conspirator.

”Explain yourself Birger.”

”There is one more thing I must do here, but it will not be possible without your help. I beg thee to hear my request.”

Gerard’s face was even more severe as usual as he studied Birger’s face. He looked for signs of dishonesty and cowardice. There was a great deal of tension in the air, and heat as well. Were it not for the red Rezaindian’s arcane expertise they would already have been cooked alive. Staying in this place for much longer was inadvisable.

”...Take the wagon and go to the meeting place ahead of us. I shall hear what our friend has to say.” Gerard half wondered if the men would protest, but maybe they were too concerned with escaping the burning building to care about his intentions. They departed the scene without complaint and took the spoils with them.

”What is it that you want Birger?”

”Many of us are expected to die before this stratagem reaches its completion. If I fall in battle today I would like my soul to go where it truly belongs…”

---

A S I E R

Ási continued to make his rounds around the palace on the first day of the job. Everyone tended to keep to themselves, simply giving each other knowing glances and exchanges. There was a clear hierarchy as certain areas were patrolled by the house guard, a station above his own, and these tended to patrol the most important regions of the throne.

After going around once, he proceeded to start doing specific paths as he tried to find a suitable path toward the royal treasury. Through the different corners, he started to place small seashells as they formed a route, rather like bread crumbs. Piece by piece, he mapped out the most suitable route, then left a little pile of the shells opposite the door. The guards stationed outside peered at him piercingly, so he continued to pass them into the hall.

The hall, on the other hand, was almost perpetually populated by one person or another, other than for a brief occasion during meal time and the changing of the guard. It is on this occasion he managed to enter the majestic place as he bore witness to the throne. It was difficult to understand where the throne ended, and the tree began. The tree was positioned perfectly as if sculpted to have a throne shape as opposed to one being cut within it. He had overheard the guards discuss that each fruit represented the prosperity of the Ekandr people, and the more it grew, the more prosperous they would be. Ási approached as he drew his axe to use the fine edge to slice the fruit and nuts from it, giving it a healthy trim. There was not much fruit to be had, but a bad omen might cause a few of their true believers to panic. He couldn’t resist the urge to find a suitable spot to leave a marking of his own upon its sacred bark, “Asier était ici”.

As the signal arrived as intended, he made his way out of the hall, nodding towards the guards as they came onto shift, making his way over into the kitchens to complete the rest of the task ahead.

---

O S A N N A

When the signal came, Osanna was standing in the center of what she had come to think of as her classroom. Her palms were pressed flat to the smooth wood grain of the table, cool and impersonal against her skin. Her eyes were closed. Pain prickled behind them in little lighting flashes that echoed into the bones of her skull.

She had found the hidden sea entrances to the catacombs and nearly gotten lost on the way back, but they were open and a single carefully half-shuttered lantern sat in each. She had let in her ally. She had prepared her plans for escape.

Osanna had not slept more than an hour or two in four days.

When she felt the tug on her ear, she was half-sure it was hallucination, but Osanna had never had delusions before. She was sane of mind and strong of body. She would not imagine a false signal.

“Ositha?”

Osanna straightened at once, taking in the sight of her two royal charges framed in a doorway surrounded on all sides by a fortune in paper and wood and leather and horse-hoof glue. She smiled. “Today, we’re going to do something a little bit different.”

On the way down to the kitchens, Osanna began her prepared speech on the importance of the language they would use at state dinners with dignitaries from foreign nations. She explained how the wrong turn of phrase might give offense or destroy a previously hoped-for alliance and how their actions—good or bad— would reflect on their family.

It filled up the whole walk—Osanna standing between the two to keep them from fighting when they got bored— and soon, they were standing in the warmth and bustle of the kitchen near the pantry that held her precious escape. She put them through their paces, asking for translations at a break-neck speed to keep them from getting off-topic, laughing when she stumbled over the words. Echeran keep her, the world was starting to blur on the edges, and her heart was beating a rapid, strangled tattoo in its anxiety. When would the news come? Were her comrades able to complete their part of this plan? Would they get away safe?

It seemed to take hours, but the news finally did come. It arrived in the form of a breathless messenger, having run straight down after telling the nobles (nobility always did underestimate the knowledge of their help). Chaos had erupted in the city.

Osanna looked at Snorri and Inga and let her fear show on her face. Where was Asier? She needed to get him out too.“We need to get you to safety,” she said. “Have you heard of the Catacombs beneath the palace?”

“Those are just old stories!” declared Inga.

“Every story comes from a truth,” retorted Snorri. “Magister Hostein used to say it.”

“Not every one,” Inga replied. “Even if they were real,” she continued, perhaps a little bit intrigued now, “how would we find them?”

“What if I told you I knew how to get inside?” Asier stepped into the kitchen, and Osanna immediately relaxed. He had made it. They were going to get out of here. “Are you two up for an adventure?”

---

D I E T R I E C H

Suspicion had been building in his brain ever since the last meeting with that teacher. He had thought of how he might act on it without jeopardizing his mission or endangering his station at the palace. It was one thing to know something, it was another to convince others of it, and he could not imagine the royal would take well to him arresting a member of her employee on a whim. Perhaps it was good fortune then that when he was at the apex of these thoughts, that there was chaos in the castle, and Meldheim was under attack. He wasted no time and rallied two of his most trusted men, seasoned Sturmknecht, and set out to save the children from the likely agent.

First, Dietrich ran to the classrooms. Perhaps they were still there from the chaos. The children could be obstinate, but no. There was no trace. It was a given they wouldn’t be in the throne room, so he decided to search around other likely locations. That brought him upon the kitchen and from there into the pantry, where he heard stifled voices that sounded all too familiar. He burst in with his guard taking the lead. He feared the worst and gave a whispered order to the sturmknecht, who shouted at Osanna, “Stopp akkurat der kriminelt avskum!”

Ositha paused at the top of the ladder, looking up towards Dietrich and his guards. The children must have been below. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a sigh, lips twitching upwards in a tremulous smile. She entirely ignored the accusation from his guards, as though she didn't understand it. "Lord Dietrich! Something has gone horribly wrong in Meldheim and the children are going to hide in case of a breach. Will you help us protect them?"

Dietrich walked forward tentatively, his guard still posted in front, before looking down at 'Ositha'. He observed with every ounce of his being, his heart beating fast from the adrenaline of the situation, for were something to happen to those kids, there would be more trouble than a mere beast assaulting the capital. He sensed this agent was much more malicious, for she had far more intent and purpose behind her actions. He would act now, or perhaps two very valuable hostages would be seized by foreign raiders. A terrifying proposal.

"You might have fooled the queen and the other members of this court, but not me. Be still, and I may stop the Eskandr from nailing you to the front of a longship." He spoke with authority in a language he detested, Parrench, as he pointed his scepter at the woman and switched to Drudgunzean."Seize her. If she resists, slit her throat."

Ositha dropped into the dark and disappeared, no trace of her face or hands, not a wisp of dark hair or swish of cloak. From that depth, darts came flying, striking the guards with portentous whomps. “Run!!” she yelled. “We’ll get no help here!”

Dietrich was not as surprised as his soldiers at the sudden assault. A quick draw of the kinetic force of the darts heading his way caused them to drop to the floor, and he gazed into the darkness, frustrated at the circumstances. "Nach ihr!" he bellowed as he used his gift to attempt to sense the energies of Osanna and begin to draw. As quick as she might be, she was no noble, and he was betting that she did not have a strong enough gift to resist an offensive draw, moving closer to the darkness and awaiting his men to take the lead, not wanting to jump into the jaws of an assassin without backup.

The guard, known as Ási, was rebuffed as the woman disappeared into the darkness. "Dritt!" he cursed under his breath as he tried to look around for her unsuccessfully. The children started to become confused and frightened. He approached them and looked over them protectively as he had his back towards them, preparing to place himself between them and the intruder.

Dietrich, seeing that the draw was effective and that this infiltrator was on her last legs, descended, using a little kinetic energy to dampen any fall he might have taken. Nodding to the guard that was already there to handle the matter of the children, he redirected his gaze toward the false tutor. He still had plenty of juice from the draw and was ready to unleash it upon the would-be assassin, no mercy in his eyes as he spoke his spell into existence. "Iram patris!" before a stream of crackling lightning came from the ivory scepter, making its way toward Osanna. After this was dealt with, he would see to the children's safety.

Only, he couldn’t quite see her. Where the woman had been leaning against the wall there was only shadow, and there came no scream of pain or thud of a body hitting the floor. The guards stumbled away from the latter, and suddenly there she was again, turning away from what ought to have been a killing blow by one of the guards. They exchanged a couple blows, but no party made headway.

Ási heard the children as they panicked and cried, the fresh sounds of battle rung around them. He kneels down as he placates them with reassuring hushes. He used his skills as a parent as he brought them in close and gave them a light hug to settle them. After he took a hold of their hands, he started to gently back away slowly out of the combat area. Dietrich glanced in his direction, he gave him a knowing nod, those unspoken words of I’ll take care of them; you have got this. He gestured towards the children “Gå, Gå".

​​Dietrich, surprised that the blow did not finish the assassin, was surprised at her ability to tangle with two fully armoured Sturmknecht after the fact. He felt no pity, but he did feel a manner of respect for her warrior spirit. Still, something made his brain tingle. Why was she content to stay and fight here instead of running? There must have been something else afoot. He had little time to waste on this affair if this were to be the case, so he would once again attempt to finish it. Drawing from the kinetic energy of the clashing of steel, and converting it to thunder, he prepared a lance of lightning to fire straight for the assassin's center of mass. Once again, she disappeared, but he could smell burning. She had not completely escaped him.

The fighting continued, and the ferocity increased. The children appeared to be too scared to move or too enthralled with the display, irrespective of their safety. Ási acted stronger in his encouragement, shouting towards them, "Gå! Gå!". He started to push the children deeper into the catacombs and further from the fighting, covering the retreat to prevent any bad from happening to either of them. The erupts continued around him, the ceiling starting to crumble as stone gave way; he couldn’t keep at this slow pace longer. He grabbed the children under his arms, carrying them down the corridor with great haste and hopefully out of the catacombs. He tried to recall Ositha’s directions in his mind, attempting to choose the right plans out of here.

Inga protested immediately. "I'm not a lil' kid! I'm almost twelve! Put me down, and I'll just use magic, you big dumb ox!" Snorri was more circumspect in his approach, merely frowning and accepting his lot in life... for now.

Ási dropped her down next to him, taking her hand as he tugged her along. ”løpe”. As he tried to pull her along, Snorri started to whine, slowing them down, pulling on his leg to go back to help Ositha. “I can use the Gift too, and they’re going to kill each other! For Father’s sake!”

---

O S A N N A

Osanna felt herself relax, and the shadows melted her form into obscurity once more. She gave the guards a cursory blow that they defended well enough and sank into her easy darkness. This didn't matter. Not anymore. Asier was getting away. He would find the Parrench or his sea people, and she would have fulfilled her duty, done as her God and her church had instructed. All she had to do now was live long enough for this to work.

She almost didn’t manage that. The damned lightning mage unleashed another burst of ferocious power, light searing her eyes and heat searing great swaths of her skin. Her cloak had all but burnt away. Her cheeks were rough with blisters, and her nose was full of the rancid smell of burning hair. She called the shadows again, an act that usually felt like slipping into cool water and now was more like trying to cover herself beneath tons of dirt. She hurt. Her breaths were coming too fast, too painful.

In the aftermath of her second near-death of the night, Osanna used the cover of darkness to turn on the guards. The one nearest her was a brute of a man—a full head taller and dark-haired. He swung at the shadow of what might have been her or a dream or his own paranoid imaginings, and in that second of unbalance, she sliced open his throat and stole his sword. Echeran keep her, it felt amazing to have a sword in hand. It was too heavy and too short, but it was an actual blade! No more butcher’s weapons. She turned immediately to the second guard and thrust, but her magic had failed her again, and the blade hardly nicked him.

Osanna had to dodge another funerary strike, and she growled, turning on Dietrich like a feral animal. She struck out with her new blade and tore into his arm, feeling the delicious resistance, the spill of hot blood on the floor. She couldn’t tell if he looked surprised or afraid.

"Du wirst nicht alleine sterben, Freund,” Dietrich said.

Osanna was shaking. Fever from the burns she had received raked her limbs. Adrenaline and exhaustion fought for prominence in her shredded mind. She hoped she'd done her duty. She hoped her people would survive this war. She was glad she’d served her God well.

“I am never alone,” she said, and the next blast of lightning hit her and flung her back hard against the tunnel wall.

For a time there was nothing. Pain. Light. The smell of flaming hair and skin and fabric like burning feathers and cooking meat and a wildfire all at once. There wasn’t enough air, or else her lungs couldn’t find it. A woman dying of dehydration steps from clean water.

Osanna groaned. She hurt everywhere. Light danced in from the opening overhead, spilling dustmotes, spinning across her vision like the turning of stars multiplied by about a million. She couldn't hear anything at first, but the thrumming of the tunnel crystalized into boot falls on stone, and she rolled away just as a sword tip dropped down to skewer her. Osanna kicked at the knees of her attacker, and he fell onto her stolen blade with a wet sound like meat hitting a stone counter. She struggled to her feet.

Osanna was done. There was nothing more she could do here, burned and broken and shaking. She asked shadows to cover her once more and limped into the darkness.

---

A S I E R

Asier had grown impatient with his charges. “Avancez”, he cursed under his breath. This was the wrong remark, as this outed him as a Parrenchman and not one of the house guards. Inga broke away, kicking viciously at his shin and shouting as she ran down back to where the fighting was going on. “Non non…”, he chased after the girl. That necessitated releasing the boy, and he broke away too.

Voices echoed down the darkened corridor in languages that the plainsman didn’t understand, and he raced toward them, fearing that it was all undone, all for naught. He passed Snorri and tried to hold the child back. “She there,” the boy said in quiet broken Parrench, gesturing, and Asier didn’t have enough time to make sense of where his younger charge stood. There was something subtle just ahead, though: a shadow that didn’t fall quite right in the near dark, but Inga had reached Dietrich now and her silhouette was frantically pulling on his sleeve, her words quick and animated, lost to the Tourrare.

“Snorri!” She shouted urgently, “Skynde sig! Løb hen til mig!” Her head turned to Dietrich, but his eyes were fixed on the moving shadow. He had spotted Osanna, and Asier realised that by going back for her - not his original intent - he had just jeopardised the entire mission.

The Drudgunzean stalked forward, and Asier ran that way, drawing whatever scant energies he could in this Oraphe-forsaken place and hoping to get there first. “Snorri,” Inga cried, “kom. her.”

“Jeg kan ikke!” the boy replied. “Undskyld.”

Asier reached Osana just as her cloak of shadows evaporated, dissipating into the dim, musty air. He looked up, prepared to shield his ally behind his body and use the energy he’d gathered to fight if need be, but his would-be opponent seemed too slow, to draw up short.

“Kujon!” Inga screamed, pounding ineffectually at Dietrich’s side.

Asier could feel her drawing, and the girl was much stronger in the Gift than he’d imagined. Snorri hesitated and began walking towards her, arms spread. “Søster, gør det ikke!”

The Tourrare made his move just as Dietrich seemed to have recovered his nerve. He threw everything into the ceiling of the tunnel between where they stood, rushing forward and grabbing Snorri by the only thing that he could get ahold of: the boy’s collar.

Chunks fell, and the ceiling rippled back further than any had anticipated. Inga’s eyes widened in fear, and she turned to run, but she was too slow. Then, there was a small burst of magic as she glanced back over her shoulder, and the siblings locked eyes, but it was Snorri’s instead of hers, and it was not directed at Asier. Instead, Inga was shoved backward out of the way of the falling stones.

Then, the tunnel collapsed, and dust billowed up in a massive wave. Asier coughed. There was no seeing through to the other side. Snorri stood there, shielding his small face with one arm. “Jeg er ked af det, Inga,” he said solemnly. “Pas godt på dig selv. Vær glad.” He glanced at Osanna, unconscious, and stepped over to place a pair of fingers upon her neck. “She okay,” he said in broken Parrench. He spared a long glance back at the collapse behind them and then looked up at Asier. “You hold she.” He gestured in Osana’s direction. “We need go.”

---

---

Mentions/Interaction: Maerec @Dao Ma, and Hildr @jasbraq

As the duel turned into a brawl, Arsène had found himself in a fight with the large boulder called the Nashorn, he goaded, sliced, fought, and gotten nearly put to near death by the large hulking mass of metal and flesh. Yet Arsène was not a man to lay down, again and again, one time, twice more, he was flung and thrown. His body was torn apart, yet he was not put down for good. The healing done over and over during the brawl had allowed Arsène to stand after another fight. Yet he was not the only one fighting, the Eskandr used the moment the duel was to end to attack the Parrench side. These snarling beasts they bark out, they call them terrible, then in a moment of a duel, they dishonor not only the duel but their own warrior.

Yet that did not matter, for such trivial things did not matter to a force of nature. A force that flew the sky, scorched the lands, and evaporated seas. Wrath incarnate, that was what Arsène would call such a beast, the Dragon that flew the skies and brought hell down to the earth. Arsène looked to the beast and said, "Bloody hell, can this day drag on any more?" As he took to his feet, he looked around as he took out his bow, he began morphing an arrow as he prepared to fight, yet Maerec seemed to have almost taken Arsène's feet off the ground trying to force him to head to the mountains.

Arsène heard something he can only sneer at, as he looked to the shamed girl, Hildr, and said, "Senseless death? The man you fought for burned many-a people. He has killed hundreds of men, women, and children for no reason other than to push his king's own twisted agenda in a war he won't win. And now that wrinkly sack of shit you have followed now leaves to commit more murder while leaving this dragon to kill everything it feels. The only thing your people seem to know is senseless death".

Arsène huffs as he puts his fingers to his lips as he lets out a whistle for Blackthorn, and before mounting he says to Hildr, "If all you will do is be a petulant child too afraid to fight an over-grown lizard, then you best leave, because you are about as useful as those villagers you are speaking of, and we have no need to protect people who might just stab us in the back or murder those we4 are protecting".

---

---

Mentions/Interaction: Arne'altan'jaros, The Skygge @Force and Fury, and Vali @Wolfieh

---

Kol looked towards the Skygge as she spoke of the great beast, the Havetskriger, and it breaking out of the restraints it was once in. As it now has killed multiple people and then seemed to thirst to kill more. Kol looked to her and nodded as he took her hand and mounted her steed. As they headed off Kol began learning what he could of the beast, it was the beast they hid under the dock to keep prisoners from possibly using the Gift, yet now it has turned against them.

As they made it to the castle grounds there was Arne'altan'jaros arming himself as he heard of the news. Kol called to the man as he landed and made his way over as they both took up weapons and horses as the three headed off to the city where they can see the commotion come from. As they neared yelling, screaming, and crying happens as the thunderous roar of the Havetskriger scream out as it spears people through, and stampede’s about.

30 men on foot and a hand full more on horses was all they had versus this beast. It had been struck by arrows, even spears were thrown into it and all it did was make it look as if it had stray hairs. The beast threw itself around with great force and violent speed that one could mistake it for the Nashorn, yet as its horns smashed into buildings and rended stone, it was no joking matter.

Kol had just made it with Arne and the Skygge as he had blown his own horn countless times as they moved through the city. To inform those who can hear to make way, and to call on those near to join hopefully. The moment they neared the fray they saw the force they had, Kol took command and began barking orders as people formed positions for a volley to begin. To prepare for battle.

Word had made it fast to Rigevand, and faster yet had Vali Twice-Born made it to the harbor, soldiers in tow. He’d been gripping his Sangløs Bue since the city outskirts, even taking some shots from quite a distance. No doubt they hit, given the ranger’s skill, but any magic he could’ve imbued them with would be worthless, and the arrows themselves were mere pinpricks.

His breathing was ragged but light as the man got within range of his bloodbrother, eyes only sparingly taking in the scene immediately around him and instead focusing almost entirely on the rampaging beast. “Do we have a plan?” he called when he thought Kol might hear him, mind already chewing over the possibilities.

---

Interaction: None
4.1 Choose

---

Camille awoke with a gasp.

What had happened after her duel? No. What became of her duel? She was there but it felt so far away, like a distant memory strangely. She was somewhere else now. Somewhere she shouldn't be. Yet.

She was laying on perfect white tiles of some stone as if they were flawless marble slabs. Each tile spanning many meters in length that a whole house could fit atop a single tile. They were not cold to the touch, in fact, they were slightly warm as if a waning fire smoldered underneath. The tiles stretched on as Camille brought her gaze the horizon, far beyond her sight both in front of her, and behind. To her left and right, there were walls though they were deceptive in their distance because they were mountainous in their height, towering up into the dark void that made of the ceiling.

Camille had caught herself staring up at the void above her. It seemed so lifeless, expecting a starry sky instead of the pure blackness. Was there a ceiling at all or was it just the void? Did the void consume the ceiling? She shruddered at the thought and darted her gaze over to the wall, noticing that the void wasn't moving down. It was just there.

She stirred up to her feet, catching a glimpse of the thin white tunic that stretched to her knees. Nothing else but strangely, no breeze passed by to chill her and it felt just right. Standing up had made her realize just how small she was. A mere ant in what looked to be the same scene as the cathedral back in Relouse. It all felt familiar. This place, maybe made to seem like something she'd relate to or maybe, she had been here before. Camille wasn't sure as she turned so that she could glance down both ends of this impossibly long corridor. Was she meant to begin walking towards something? What?

Camille took a step but froze. A thought had just daunted on her and now it was beginning to consume her with doubt.

What direction should she choose?

Left or right? Or rather, wouldn't it be forward or backwards? But towards what end? If she made it all the way to the end of one side, how would she know it was right?

Questions began to toil in the girl's mind, and she winced at the overwhelming nature. She knew that her choice mattered somehow but how? What evidence did she have to determine what she knew? How did this all make sense and yet it didn't? Where would she be going? Where did she want to go? How did she know there was a destination she wanted at all?

Camille collapsed to her knees, holding her head as she felt a sudden weight bear down on her. Everything was presented so simple and yet it all seemed to be too much for her. The stillness of Cathedral was disturbed by a low, distant roar. She had hardly perceived it but she did. She knew what it meant but couldn't place her thoughts in order to recall the meaning.

The roar, what roared? Bestial, angry.

Another roar, louder and closer.

The tiles seemed to drop away ahead of her, the walls beginning to fade, the void receding. She wasn't meant to be here. Not yet. There was something else. Somewhere else she had to be. She could see it true.

The dragon roared and Camille awoke.

---

Interaction: None
4.2 Field of Fire

---

Camille gasped and sat up swiftly. She still had her helmet on, obscuring her vision but the rush of what she saw, namely the Queen tending her had been enough to remind her of where she was. The Eskandr were here and the prisoner... The Thunderspear who had wounded the dragon before. They needed him and all the capable Eskandr to defeat the greater evil. Was she too late?

The Eskandr were leaving... Camille felt her heart sink for but a moment. She witnessed some stay including the one she had fought. Hildr. The saint pressed her sword into the ground and prayed.

Dami guide me! Lead me to the end that will spare the just people.

A sign. A potent that Dami was listening was almost becoming expected. There were strange coincidences when she concentrated in prayer and this would be another to add.

"Dragon is up there, girl, not down there."

She shot her head up and around to a far more raggard man from her memory but there was no mistaking it. Claude was still around. "You're alive!" Camille leapt up and wrapped her arms around him. He grunted but bore it as his own arms wrapped around her for a quick embrace. "Now isn't the time to gush, girl. We don't have time and but the man, Sir Maerec, is right. We have to head for the caves. I routed as many of the others as I could and now our turn." He quickly explained, stopping for a moment as something dawned on him.

"You're mother is alive as well back at the cave ahead."

Dami be praised, indeed.

---

---

Location: Battle at the foot of Mount Errant
Mood: ”Stand Up” by Greg Dombrowski
Interaction: Hildr @jasbraq
Current Event: Fields of Fire

Where would they seek refuge against a beast covering the sky?

“To the north!” Shouted his dear friend Sir Maerec of Solenne, “there are caves at the bottom of the mountains where we can take shelter!” He galloped in on horseback, stalwart as ever to the people of Parrench. There was a depth to his confidence in the orders he gave, a level of confidence that had not yet been witnessed; something within Maerec was changing. Caelum believed it would be for the better of Perrence, “Great plan Maerec!” Caelum shouted acknowledging the caves as a worthy effort to strive for. There was a sliver of hope. The caves were a great idea.

Maerec continued to hasten the people's collective activity to organize, “if we get everyone to mount up, we can ride there quickly. It isn’t far from here.” As Maerec rallied, the beaten Eskandr woman approached him. Caelum nearly stepped in to send Hildr off her feet before she tried anything stupid. She wrapped her dirty little Eskandr paws around Maerec, expressing a point that Arsene heard to be cowardly.

Caelum agreed, “Arsene’s right.” He paused to give his words time to grab Hildr’s attention, “You chose to follow a man into this war, a man who brutally killed hundreds of innocence, a man you chose to champion against our faithful Camille, a man who left you to die with us against the very thing his people helped unleash.” As he spoke, Caelum approached Hildr inch by inch, “The difference between Camille and you, between Maerec and you, between Arsene and you, between you and our Queen and her people, is…” He stood only feet from Hildr, “we do not follow a man, we follow our faith and our faith will not stand by allowing a Dragon to claim innocent lives.”

Caelum gently placed his heavy hand on her shoulder as she did to Maerec to remind her she was not above here or anywhere close. It was a reminder of who she was talking to, “Because even one of those innocent lives is worth a hundred of yours and mine, so before you thoughtlessly talk down to a knight who understands their duty and oath, take a second, and ask yourself, do you even remember why you are fighting?” He stared into Hildr’s eyes with firmness, faith, and a warm sense of compassion, “We do.” Caelum looked at his fellow Parrenchmen and back to Hildr, "it is not too late for you to find your faith". He could feel she was scared; they all were to some degree, but this next fight called on everyone to believe in each other, “You are either with us, Hildr, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, or you are in the way…we cannot have your truth waver here…can we trust you to fight with us, can we place our faith in you to be better?” Caelum just proclaimed to her the value of their faith, and to offer it to her was something he’d hoped she’d see clearly as a meaningful sign to join them in the fight.

The sound of the dragon roared in the distance. It appeared that it found more steam to rear back for another assault of flames. It was a good thing people already began moving. It’d be up to the Parrench knights to keep it at a distance until they reached the caves.