---

Esben plucking the bombs from her fingers were the last thing she was expecting "Creative? What are you...There's no time!" She looked over at him with a degree of bewilderment. Her gaze snapped back to Reisa who had just managed to stand up when the bombs exploded around her. Three of the bombs erupted with a thunderous, concussive force around her but the fourth burst into a silvery mist that when it came into contact Reisa began to flash freeze. Ice ran down her forearms, and legs, freezing her to the ground for the moment "At least you can throw straight." Chisa said to Esben, hand reaching for the dagger she put away. She was surprised as Esben came around, wrapped a hand around her waist, and ushered her towards the rest of the group.

The ice that was trapping Reisa's legs had already begun to crack when Eliane fired off her first shot. Reisa did not appear to move out of the way as the barrage saturated the space around her, likely concussed from the earlier bombs. Smoke, dust, and ash swirled around the area and obscured any image of the captain. Gunshots continued to ring out from the rooftops and from down the street, the sounds of battle getting closer by the second. Chisaki did her best to keep pace with Esben as they moved along, but it seemed the damage she did to her leg was worse than she initially thought.

Arton rushed up to Hien one Ciradyl and Esben seemed to have control of Izayoi, supporting the lord and covering his back with his shield as they made a hasty retreat. It took every fiber of his willpower not to rush towards Reisa after the barrage of explosion riddled the space around her "Robin, Rudolf, do you think you can clear a path to the exit?" He called out to the swordswoman, seeing as most of their numbers were currently assisted the injured or unconscious members of their party. His heart ached as they left the prison and wreckage of the airship behind. This was not the time to get wrapped up in sentiment. There would be time to process tonight after they reached safety.

His grip on Hien immediately dropped as two footmen charged at him from a dark alley, putting himself in the way as a sword was thrust forward. The shield on his arm smacked the blade away and made an opening for his own to pierce the upper chest of the assailant. The lifeless body fell onto him which he used to stop the next attacker's strike. He tossed the body aside quick enough that it put his opponent off balance. One swing lopped his forearm off and the following strike struck the throat, ending the threat quickly. Arton resumed guardianship of Hien as they picked up the pace once more.

Right, now they were—why was everyone trying to get themselves killed in a last stand against the Valheimr woman, and why was it all the ladies with nice chests!? This was... aaaaagh, she couldn't do anything to pull people back, she just didn't have the physical strength or know anything to particularly compensate for it... but now Miina could see the plan forming, just throw all the explosives at her and trigger them.

She could help. Fire magic wasn't her best, but she was still competent enough, and it was always easier where you might have something to work with... whether that be the fuel or the conflagration itself.

Did it seem like she was doing anything, or just pointing? With all the fire around, it would be rather easy to miss an extra contribution but—right, escape. Time to escape. Just, uh, help out Arton as much as possible with supporting Hien's other side? She couldn't really spare the time to fight enemies off if she wanted to try and help along the healing some more, so it would be really nice if the R's could help out there...

"Works for me," Rudolf breathed, voice thick with relief as he about-faced more or less in time with the third and fourth cracks of Eliane's firearm. "C'mon, Fey! Let's cut 'em down!" he barked, pushing to the fore where the Valheimr, rallying at the sight of one of their leaders surviving the cataclysmic fireball and still fighting, had begun to congregate again. The back half of the Kirins had more or less locked her down for the moment, sure, but unless they capitalized her battlefield presence alone would end up locking them down. The rank-and-filed would be given enough breathing room to regroup, and encircle.

If that happened, they were as good as toast.

So he surged forth, into the lesser of two evils. Esben, Eliane, Galahad, they all knew what they were doing. With Izayoi and Chisaki more or less taken care of and being pulled out of the fray... All that was left was rote repetitions. Those were what he was good at.

Parry, stab, slice, shove. Never lose threat, never lose momentum. Descend upon them like a storm, and your strikes will boom like thunder. Between his force and Robin's speed, whichever openings one Edrenian couldn't find the other would pry open in short order. The stark contrast in styles, rhythm, and attacks would wear most anyone Valheim could field short of the aforementioned Captain far behind down.

So it wasn't a clash with the leader of the enemy forces. Indeed, while she might have survived the airship crash, the explosives around her would likely at least give her a few moments of pause.

Instead, they'd be cutting their way out.

Robin wasn't entirely certain how to feel, but at the same time---

A hero helped people. A hero did what they could to ensure their allies escaped alive. And right now, the best course of action was to cut a path through the enemy as they rallied around their commander.

So, Robin would do everything she could to make that outcome become the truth.

"I won't let you down---!"

She was already moving.

A bullet shot past her, nearly striking her in the head. She could feel it whipping by, but she didn't stop.

She met the solider who fired and drove the tip of her sword through her through, twisting in the very same motion to shove his body to the side as quickly as possible and keep moving.

Her heart hammered.

She'd seen people die who shouldn't have died.

A hero would have to make sure that didn't happen any more.

"Damn it, I'll-"

She cut him off with a thrust of her blade. Swiftness. Efficiency. The speed and finesse to end her enemies before their allies could target her.

Bullets cleaved the space she once occupied. One pinged off of her sword as she flicked its blade through the air, deflecting it.

She'd move faster, then.

She didn't want to have to sacrifice a single movement that could stall their goal. That meant not even deflecting bullets could be permitted, because when she moved to deflect it took just that much more time for her to be ready to attack once again.

Robin caught her next target as he drew his sword, dodging beneath a hasty swing and burying her blade to the hilt in his armpit, in a gap between the plating.

Just as swiftly, it left him with a spurt of red, and she was moving once more.

Mentions: @Izurich, @Click This, @Ithradine, @Psyker Landshark

---

"Good shots." Galahad commented. He'd always known Skael had good marksmen, but Eliane was surely something else. Galahad didn't know if they'd killed Reisa, but at the very least they had space and cover for retreat- as much as some of them may have enjoyed the idea of slaughtering a Valheim garrison, they weren't exactly in the position for a drawn out battle. Reaching down, the Dragoon ensured that his cloak was secured around the young dragon eidolon before shouldering her, shifting his grip on his halberd so he could at least hold it one handed. "Now seems a good a time as any to get out of here. Let's go."

Relatively silent when compared to the chaos going on in the streets below them, Galahad hopped from rooftop to rooftop as he ran alongside the rest of the team, keeping an eye out for threats he thought they couldn't handle on their own. Not that he had much to worry- when it came to the rank and file of Valheim's forces, the Kirins and their new additions had already proven themselves.

Robin and Rudolf lead the charge down the snaking maze of alleyways, the others not far behind, Chisaki and an unwilling Izayoi in tow. The ninja was lagging behind, and another of Valheim's infantrymen sprinted out of yet another alleyway in an attempt to flank the fleeing group, and take advantage of the ninja's wounded state. Before the soldier could get within ten paces of the group, a pair of blued steel boots crashed unceremoniously onto the top of his shoulders, the point of a wicked halberd cracking the armored carapace with relative ease. Galahad, along with a cape-covered Eve over his shoulder nodded to the group and gestured down one of the dark alleyways with a nod of his head- one of their pre-established exit routes.

"This way!" Galahad called to the group. He leaned in a bit towards Izayoi as he ushered the others by, his voice lowering. "Kill Reisa another time. You're the one that said you needed to rescue the lordling. So, rescue him."

"No, damn you! NO!" Izayoi struggled against Ciradyl and Esben's combined efforts to little avail as she was forcibly dragged away from the battle. "That is not for you to decide!" She hissed savagely in response to Ciradyl's words, her glare not leaving Reisa's form even as the Valheimr captain was pelted with bombs, explosive rounds, and flame.

She could see Reisa's outline through the smoke and flame as the last of the explosions went off. The bitch was still alive. Even as Rudolf and Robin carved a path towards freedom, even as Galahad's words barely registered through the haze of fury in her head, even as she was dragged towards escape, Izayoi didn't stop strugging until they'd made it into the sewers, whereupon she went limp, her grip on her sword finally slackening as she realized there wasn't any chance that she'd reach her goal this night.

Ciradyl finally released her, and Izayoi simply trudged onwards, following silently as the Kirins were led into the sewers, through a hidden wall, and into the far side of a tunnel before emerging into a well-appointed home similar to the one the bard had first met the rest of the team in. Hien sighed in relief as they reached safety at last, slumping slightly before straightening right back up and turning to face the party.

"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I truly thought I wasn't going to live to see the next night." He bowed in gratitude before rising, his expression unreadable as his gaze flickered to Izayoi.

"Before I get anything else done, we need to have a talk. If you'd follow me?" As Izayoi nodded and headed off into a side room with Hien, Renzo entered the room, bowing deeply to Ciradyl before offering a curt nod towards everyone else.

"Your quarters are all prepared. For the moment, it may be best to keep your heads down for some days. Judging by the chaos that happened tonight, the occupiers likely know your faces by now, save for Lady Ciradyl and the...Dragoon." The last word took effort to be simply said and not spit. "If you must go out over the next day or two, conceal yourselves and do try not to do anything obvious, yes?"

Minutes passed, and anyone still in the common area could hear raised voices and heated tones coming from the room where Izayoi and Hien went off to go converse. Eventually, it got loud enough that they could be heard.

"-can't believe it, you think we just get to walk away? It doesn't work like that, Auntie. When you ran off to go play housewife for five years, you left me to pick up your pieces!" Hien's yell was punctuated by the sound of a punch slamming against flesh, to which no response was given aside from a snarl. "I spent YEARS rebuilding the loyalty among what was left of my family's men that you could command in an instant were you to just reveal yourself. If you were anywhere close to the sheer strength you had when you rode off to war with my father, we wouldn't be in this position!"

A blade clattered against the tatami mat.

"Here's your short blade back. If you want to kill yourself so badly, do it the proper way."

The door opened, and Izayoi and Hien exited, walking off in separate directions as both seethed.

Some time later...

"MEGA FLAAAAAAAAAAAARE!!!"

The Dragon Queen's violent roar didn't lose much of its potency even when emulated through an audio output device, the sheer rage broadcasted clearly to every single personnel in the laboratory, their attention glued to the holoscreen currently playing the recording of Proudclad's last moments. The mighty warship of the Empire sundered in twain and reduced to smoldering cinders courtesy of what supposed to be their own weapon; just as a serpent isn't immune to its own venom, a Valheimr-made arsenal could very well destroy its own kind. A cautionary tale of unchecked power perhaps, what’s the point of potency if it couldn't be controlled to not turn against its own creator?

However, all Director Hojo could see was the fruits of his labor laid bare before his very eyes. Words alone couldn't convey just how utterly vindicated he's feeling at this very moment. Every single nonsense spouted by his detractors - ignorant and foolish as they were - dashed in an instant. The short-sighted masses might view Proudclad's demise as a warning, but to Hojo, she couldn't have served a nobler goal, she became a martyr of his cause, an inarguable proof of what his magnum opus could do.

"Heh..." A chuckle, barely audible, "Haha..." then, a guffaw of amusement, "Hahahahahahaha!" before a full blown cackle erupted from him, incessantly drumming against the ears of his staff as all eyes turned to the Director. "Aaah, how magnificent, how sublime..." Sighed Hojo with awestruck glee, his right hand affectionately caressing the holoscreen as if it was his newborn child, "Ultimate power, the very essence of destruction, therein lies true strength; force declared, a promise made." He closed his eyes solemnly while a pointer finger propped up his glasses. "And to think Grayscale hasn't yet reached her full potential..." The researcher murmured, rubbing his chin.

"Hmm?" Then, Hojo could feel eyes boring into his back, prompting the middle-aged Sollan to look over his shoulder, a smirk on his visage, "What seems to be the matter? Are you... envious, perchance?" With a chuckle, he fully turned, facing a tall masculine figure with toned athletic build, a prominent pair of demonic horns, a long ridged tail of the same texture, and fiery amber irises. "Though Bahamut is the first of his kind, perhaps you can defy my expectations and surpass his scion, indeed, it'd be in your best interest to do so. After all, you two are cousins, Grayscale and..." He paused, smirk widening into a grin.

"...Hellfire."

True to his nature, by the time the team had settled into the aftermath enough for voices to raise within the retrieved lord’s chambers, Rudolf had already long made himself scarce. No matter how heartfelt the thanks from Hien might have been, no matter how used to Izayoi he might have been getting, he was certain that the last thing either of them needed was an uppity Edreni kid anywhere near that business of theirs.

He’d already ignored his survival instincts not to touch a situation enough for one lifetime, and pissed off enough higher authority for two. He’d take the chances he got to heed them. No thank you! Not with a ten foot pole!

He’d thusly retreated to the interior of the room prepared for him, keen on finally getting a chance to breathe and settle and, importantly, review. This was a hell of an eventful day to get straight in the head, to say less of the week that it had capped off. His traveling armor had no business being on him in the breakout, taking too long to don, and had been collected and settled in a disorganized heap at his bedside by Ciradyl’s agents. He’d worry about it later. Instead, he would turn his hands towards the meditative work he favored most. He shoved the bedding off to the side with a grunt, working through a couple orientations before finally realizing he could stand it against the wall.

He laid out seven lines of steel on the tatami, blooming out from a central point upon which he sat, cross-legged, and laid his palms upon the crossguard of each in turn, seven prayers to Himstus on his lips. One by one, he held their flats to his brow, meeting mind and blade.

Then he took hold of his blade oil, whetstones, and minor acid— and began the work of simple repetition, cleaning away blood, away grime, away dust, away nicks, away the swirling nerves of the nightmare they’d raced through. He was indelibly a Kirin now, wanted by their assumed priority targets, sharing sweat and blood with everyone else upon this mission. It brought him small comfort.

Greater comfort came in honing, where the concentration took over.

…

Some time, a quick wash, and a few bandages upon his palms later, and Rudolf was milling through the compound’s halls again, clad his understated casual attire. If at all possible, he still intended to give every Ospreyan that he was certain hated him a wide berth— but there was one who at least seemed able to mask it perfectly, assuming she shared the opinion.

It helped twice over that she was the boss of the operation, who was probably going to need to sign off on his request to begin with. Locked down as their group was, his hands were pretty tied unless he fancied his chances of sneaking out of the compound undetected, staying unaccosted while he was out, and not being detected and traced in his return.

That’s so much pressure!

After Izayoi had sniffed him out without much trouble already, Rudolf knew when he had to respect his own limits.

Luckily, even though they all had space for accommodation between themselves, Lord Hien, and her staff on call, there was no getting around this safehouse fundamentally being a fishbowl. Nowhere near the amount of nooks and crannies to hide in as a proper keep.

“Lady Ciradyl.” he said, finally catching sight of the statuesque frame and snowy ponytail after maybe a dozen minutes’ search and flagging her down. “I’ve got a favor to ask, if you can hear me out for a minute.”

Using her magic for Chisaki's benefit had been... awkward. It wasn't just because Miina spent the entire time she'd been working staring fixedly down at her hands, as she had good reason to not want to get distracted and make something worse or... but also because she didn't know how to start a conversation like "could the people who've been relatively nice to me please not try to die heroically when staying alive might be an option?"

So, she did as much work as she could, as tiring as it was to do so for long periods of time, and displayed all the bedtime manner of a statue. At least that was probably better than being a stammering mess? Maybe.

Now, though... she was in Osprey and she did need to see if there was any news of her brother. At the same time, it had been very clear that they would be looked for. Going out as she was simply wasn't on the table, which meant changing clothes—

She probably still stood out way too much like this, didn't she? Even if it seemed unlikely that anyone had really identified that her hair was red and it wasn't just the clothing and general style. This would get attention for all the wrong sorts of reasons, she had to find… someone who would know better. Izayoi or Hien were obviously locals, so they could help with the clothing thing, but Esbern was a spy so he might also have advice for finding someone? Although, maybe anyone would have a better idea of what to wear than she did.

Except Robin. Robin seemed like someone that would stick out no matter what was going on.

Now the only problem: finding the right person and asking what they thought she should do. At least wearing her normal style of clothing rather than trying to seem like an impressive mage ought to be a step in the right direction. Maybe.

She couldn't sleep. How could she, with her temper still flaring after all of tonight's idiocy? First, Reisa had gotten away. The wench had been right there, and everyone else had sought to deny Izayoi the sole thing she'd wanted out of this life.

And second? The young master was being an ungrateful little brat. She wasn't the magical cure-all to his woes that he'd been looking for. Her best hadn't won victory for Osprey against Edren. Why would it against Valheim? Izayoi had told him as much, and yet he'd still rebuffed that. Incorrigible little shit. Hadn't the fact that she'd gotten him out of execution proven anything? Her job had been finished the moment Hien reached the outside with an armed escort.

The samurai shook her head, resisting the urge to put her fist through a sliding door. Instead, she slid it open like a normal person, only to see Esben out in the courtyard. An audible snarl came from her throat. She hadn't forgotten his role in dragging her away from the battlefield.

Esben looked up from his journal, over to the source of the animalistic growling that pulled him out of his notes. "Hmm. Not how I'd hoped to spend such a nice moonlit night." He snapped it back shut over its ribbon bookmark, though he didn't stand up from the post he was leaning against as he wrote. "Can't sleep? Me neither."

He'd already managed to go through and explore as much of the household as was available to explore; he wasn't about to go poking in anybody's rooms as they slept, after all. Regardless, however spacious the safehouse was, he quickly ran out of anything new to explore, and had taken to the central courtyard. Luckily, any smoke from their fighting had blown away from this part of the city, leaving the courtyard actually habitable.

He stared at Izayoi for a moment longer across the courtyard, head cocked slightly to one side, before speaking up again: "For what it's worth, I think he wants you to die about as much as you want to die."

"Then the young master must wish for my death most deeply." Izayoi retorted without a second thought, scowling. "Leave him be. He is merely disappointed at how badly his teacher has gone to rot. Once reality sets in, he will adjust."

Evidently, she wasn't keen on bringing her argument with Hien into a conversation with anyone else.

"If you actually believed that, you'd have done like any good servant and taken those last words of his as an order," Esben replied flatly. "If I was particularly worried about what he thought, I'd bother to seek him out rather than spend my time out here. I doubt he's sleeping any better than either of us."

He glanced back up to the sky, sighing.

"I'm sure you've something you want to say. May as well say it, that way we can get on with things."

"I never was much of a proper samurai in any area outside of combat. The public reviled me as a barbarian before they exalted me as a war hero." She remarked dryly, gazing up briefly at the stars before back to Esben.

"Of course I've something to say." She snapped, her moment of introspection finished. "Why did you even bother dragging me from the field? Avenging my family is my foremost wish, and not a single one of you deigned to grant me it. Only Ciradyl has the excuse of friendship for saving mine life."

Esben stared wordlessly in reply, his normally placid expression an utterly blank, unreadable mask in the moonlight. After a point, it was obvious that he was expecting more; when nothing more came, however, he did eventually speak up before the silence could become too awkward.

"I expected a statement, not a question you should already know the answer to." He finally pushed off the post he was leaning against, walking towards the center of the courtyard and pointing over Izayoi's shoulder back at the main dwelling of the household, where the others were all resting or sleeping. "What is our team's mission, Izayoi?"

"I know full well what you imply." Izayoi glared, unwilling to entertain this. "If you wish to lecture me about cohesion, do not bother. I do my part when it does not directly interfere with my own stated mission. Caradoc ought to be glad if and when I do die to complete it. He's simply pragmatic enough to put off avenging his brother for the moment. There is no logic or rhetoric to use here. Save your breath."

"They'll be a cohesive unit with or without you," Esben replied, just as dismissive of Izayoi's reply as she'd been to what she thought she was saying. "Possibly even moreso without. That's not what I'm talking about, and I have trouble believing someone like you is so short-sighted as to believe it is."

He pointed again, in the general direction of Galahad's room. "Caradoc first. From what I've gathered of what you all have told us happened prior to Rudolf and I running into you, he's basically gotten himself disowned over his willingness to put national rivalry aside and work with you." He turned slightly, his hand now falling over Éliane's space. "I know Elly came with an entire unit, and I know they aren't around anymore. I'm not particularly willing to ask who they all were, both because I don't want to pull up a painful memory for her and because I don't want to know if any of them were people I knew yet. Eve has never even known a normal existence at all, and what little she had that was close to it was taken from her and she was left to fend for herself before finding us. Arton is obviously displaced. Miina, wrong place at the wrong time, and now she's stuck with us and gets to hope we remember her in any of the rest of what we do. Rudolf and Robin, there's something pathological behind each of their choices to seek this out, and they're already starting to pay for it."

He shifted as he called out each in turn, before his pointing finger fell on Izayoi. "And then there's you. And Hien, for that matter. Ciradyl too, soon. Displaced. Multiple of those close to you killed. Whether determining the source of the Blight or trying to fend off Valheim, we're all in the same spot: All fighting from an extremely disadvantageous position. Valheim has assets to spare. We do not."

His hand dropped, as he looked to the sky again, back where the glow of the fires from before was still diminishing as Valheimer troops and local citizens worked to stop the spread.

"You are an asset we can't afford to lose at this point, especially taking out a singular captain, no matter how personal the enmity there. It was far from the most expedient choice. Hien himself, injured though he was, was still putting up quite a fight to drag you back. If we abandoned you, he wouldn't have, and he'd have even more reason to fight against us than you did. Even if the rest of us did get him out of there alive, we'd have lost him as an asset letting you get killed. Not only that, the odds are good that he would have perished as well, and likely myself, Ciradyl, and Chisaki along with him. On top of that, even losing just you, this early on, would only be a stronger blow to the morale of the group to pile atop all the rest they've already had, and that is one asset we and this local resistance cannot afford to lose ever. Not while we're still this far behind."

He turned away from the sky over the walls of the courtyard, starting to walk back towards the main dwelling.

"Be angry with me all you like for this last night. If sacrificing you is ever the most expedient choice, I'll take it without any hesitation. This time it wasn't."

"Tch," Izayoi scowled, her expression stuck in a glare. Of course she understood all of this full well. The difference was that she could barely bring herself to care.

"Perhaps you are a SEED after all, to have so effective a mindset. Though it continues to boggle the mind why you would openly declare yourself a spy." She admitted begrudgingly.

"Fine. Expedient choices are what keep me stuck here to begin with. I continue to hold a better chance of killing Reisa and as many Valheimr as possible while with you lot. Pray that continues to hold true."

She gazed out at the smoke and flame still rising into the air, her eyes less hard. More forlorn.

"Ranbu no Izayoi lost the war against Edren. None of the others should give one whit about anything past my diminished sword arm if they had any ounce of sense. Before the war, might was the only thing that defined me. I needn't tell a SEED of the quality of the majority of Osprey's other generals during the conflict. And afterwards, I had Isshin and Suzume. Now I am stripped of my godspeed sword, my credentials as a military leader, and my family. The resistance are fools to place any faith in me."

"Hien considers you close enough to worry so about you, and individual might and skill aren't the only things to define a person's worth in circumstances like this." He passed Izayoi, sliding open the door behind her. "Try to get some sleep. Don't give him reason to call you out as tired, as well as slow."

The door slid shut again, Esben's soft footfalls barely audible as he left Izayoi standing outside.

"He forgot to mention 'old'." Izayoi remarked dryly to herself, continuing to stare out at the skyline for a few minutes before turning to return to her quarters as well.

---

Perhaps an hour or so after Izayoi and Lord Hien had finished their argument, Galahad found himself standing outside his door. Having long since doffed his dragoon's armor, Galahad mulled over what he was doing here. He was a leader, expected to take charge of the Kirins' and their objectives, make allies and discuss next steps towards their goals, but he was no politician, or mediator for that matter. The scars of the war ran deep, yet Galahad couldn't sit idly and let his comrades do what was his work. Oddly enough, a part of him was offended on Izayoi's behalf–having risked her life to save him, only to have it thrown back in her face. Their problems were probably much more than he knew, and if Izayoi ever caught Galahad feeling pity for her, his head would probably not be attached to his shoulders.

Yet here he was.

With a sigh, Galahad collected himself for a moment longer before he rapped a pair of knuckles. ”Lord Hien. A moment, if you would.”

Hien sat kneeling on a mat within his quarters, attempting to meditate to calm himself. And failing. With a frustrated sigh, he rose and forced a placid expression on his face before opening the door. He looked at the man before him.

“Ah. You must be the dragoon. I’ve not seen your face compared to the others, so that narrows it down. Come in, come in! You helped save my life, I won’t bite. At the very least, you aren’t Artorias Caradoc.” He chortled briefly before ushering Galahad inside.

Galahad frowned, his lips forming a fine line as he paused in front of the threshold. “No, I am not. My father and I currently have… differing opinions regarding my being here.”

“I am Galahad, though a Caradoc no longer. If my presence displeases you, I will excuse myself.”

Hien’s expression turned unreadably neutral at the revelation, though he made no move to push Galahad to leave, continuing to allow him inside.

“Well. Isn’t that…unfortunate. Regardless, I believe you had something you wished to discuss with me?”

He turned and strode back inside, sitting with his legs crossed on the mat he’d previously been trying to meditate on. Galahad sighed but followed him, taking a seat a respectful distance across the mat. He'd have found out in the next few minutes anyway, better to have been honest and up front.

“By all means, let’s hear it.”

“Firstly, I'm glad to see you've made it back in one piece. We may have caused a bit more chaos than intended, but your people here are quite capable. Ciradyl and that ninja Chisaki especially.” Galahad said with a respectful nod, taking a moment to take stock of the young lordling.

“I lead the Kirins.” Galahad started simply, gesturing with his head towards the door where the rest of the party went about their business. “We're spearheading an effort to stop the Blight that's been plaguing these lands. Our current working theory is that Valheim is responsible– if not for its creation, then at least for its propagation throughout Osprey and the rest of the continent.”

“It seems we'll be in Osprey for at least a while longer. It is my hope that we may be able to help one another.”

“I don’t disagree with your assessment.” Hien nodded. “The reports from the outlying villages didn’t begin until after the invasion.” He mulled over the rest of Galahad’s words for a moment longer, squinting slightly as he looked the man over.

“There were reports from the desert that I’d been meaning to send people to look into before Valheim took me captive. Now, I’m to begin the arduous task of finding what remains of my men and rallying them back under my banner. And Lady Ciradyl’s people, gods bless them, aren’t quite direct fighters.” Hien said with a rueful smile on his face as he continued on.

“Quite frankly, I can’t turn down your offer of aid at this junction. We can discuss this further in a day or so, give your people time to recover. And for tempers to cool.”

Galahad couldn't help but chuckle at that. “You mean Izayoi? Smart, that. The woman's more explosive than the mages sometimes.” He paused for a moment, “But, for all my misgivings, she's always done exactly what she said she'd do. If I understand correctly, she's your bodyguard? Instructor?”

“One, then the other, once upon a time.” Hien nodded solemnly. “She was…unassailable when I was a boy. A pillar of strength.” He looked away, his mien suddenly grim.

“It hurts to see her practically shattered like this. Worse to know she’d all but abandoned us until her own personal tragedy pulled her back in. May as well have told us to kick rocks.”

“Glad I only see her now then.” Galahad chuckled mirthlessly, “Otherwise I'd might not have lived to have this conversation.”

The Dragoon paused for a moment, regarding Hien's face for a moment. Galahad was no aged veteran himself, but the boy looked young, not quite naive, but not quite found his stride yet in the world.

“She didn't abandon your people.” Galahad said quietly, “At least I don't see it that way. I think she died for your people, on that mountain. Her family gave her a reason to live again. Then Valheim took it away.”

“Were this from anyone else, I’d take it as empty words. But you’re a Caradoc.” The other elephant in the room. “From you, I may actually believe it. Though it still stings that she was absent when we needed a paragon the most.”

Hien stood and turned, looking out of his chamber’s window. Fires and smoke from the breakout could still be seen in the distance, along with crews scurrying about to try to put them out.

“Tell me, how is the man responsible for my father’s death?” An undercurrent of rage, grief, mourning in his words that he couldn’t quite keep restrained. “I doubt you were at that first battle, Izayoi would have cut you in twain if you were, but let’s not beat around the bush here. We both know who had the last King of Edren’s ear about that conflict to begin with. And who profited the most from it.”

“I think I could give her a run for her money nowadays.” Galahad replied, “But no, if we met during the war, we'd be one more Caradoc short.” Galahad too stood, but rather than joining the Osprean Lord by the window, Galahad sufficed with examining a few of the scant portraits that adorned the wall.

“He's alive.” Galahad's voice a bit tense, “I'm not sure why he opposes the new King's efforts to stop the Blight, but I've never been one for politics.”

“Though if we're to begin pointing fingers, we had offered to trade for the mines, but our diplomats came back missing from the neck down. At that point, I think war was inevitable.”

“By all accounts, Lord Caradoc’s offer was insultingly low. The Emperor was infuriated when he was informed of the offer. Some thought that was deliberate, you know. Force us into war with a slight upon our honor. So yes, war was likely inevitable. Though still from the same source.” He looked to his Edrenian counterpart, weary.

“But we’ll be here all night should we continue to split hairs. As much as I wish to see your father’s head displayed before me one day, you aren’t him. If there’ll be nothing else, Knight Galahad?”

Not quite angry, but Galahad had tensed, readying a retort of his own before he stopped himself and sighed. Hien was right, they'd be arguing all night at this rate– and he doubted either of them would be able to change the other's opinion in a single night.

“You're right. Perhaps tonight is not the night to debate on the war. I think the scars run too deep on both sides to have it reconciled so easily.” Galahad sighed, his hand massaging his brow.

“But that being said, we must appear strange to you, Lord Hien.” Galahad said, “A dragoon and a samurai– working alongside one another.” Galahad couldn't help but chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. “Demon, Limbtaker, the woman who slew my brother, and yet I still stand with her.”

“We live in strange times. Five years ago, Lady Ciradyl was merely a very talented singer. And now she runs the only active resistance cell in Kugane.” He chuckled back, nodding and just letting the mention of Izayoi and Galahad’s brother pass. Nothing would be gained by prodding into that just now.

“Regardless, as I’ve said, I’ll lay out all of the details once everyone’s had a chance to recover. And you should, as well. It can’t be easy managing so many disparate personalities in your squadron.”

“Five years ago, I couldn't imagine it either.” Galahad replied as he made his way to the door. “But war changes people. Izayoi too. Forgive my impertinence, but I think the two of you value each other more than you both understand– or perhaps are willing to admit. Life is short and fleeting, and if I may offer you something from my own experience: Don't say things you won't be able to take back.”

Galahad offered the lordling a short bow before crossing the threshold. “Goodnight, Lord Hien.”

---

Ciradyl stepped into her personal room after the tense atmosphere settled down and she had gotten a chance to speak with Izayoi. Muscles ached as she unstrapped her armor and changed into a modest, white nightgown that flowed loosely just above her knees. She did not feel the pull of the soft, silk sheets next to her just yet. There was too much on her mind to let her fall asleep anytime soon. A bit of shame came over her as she realized she had not properly expressed gratitude to the Skaealan who had made tonight possible. Honestly, it was an excuse to pry whatever information on subterfuge she could pull from him.

She wandered around the safehouse a little until she managed to find him. Renzo had given her directions but the look on his face told he was a little curious. The Faye cleared her throat as her eyes laid on him ”I hope you are finding the accommodations suitable.” Her voice projected ”I wanted to thank you for what’ve you done tonight. I understand it may not have been in Skael's tactical advantage but you’ve helped give Osprey a fighting chance to be a nation again.” Ciradyl looked for any signs she could read off the man while speaking as honestly as she could.

Esben glanced up from the plate he was currently snacking from as Ciradyl slid open the door to his room. His face remained studiously blank as she spoke, although the movement of his eyes was obvious as he looked her over once. Certain habits were hard to break, especially when deep behind enemy lines—but there was nothing on the tall Faye’s person or about her demeanour to be immediately worried about.

He hadn’t expected the nightclothes, however...Are all Ospreyans so forward?

”Now he owes us and he knows it,” he replied with a shrug, not letting the other thought be known. ”Valheim is the greatest worry right now, and after you made Hien’s involvement in spearheading this rebellion clear, that he wasn’t just a figurehead, it made rescuing him the smarter choice.” Unspoken, but obviously implied, was that his recommendation would have been different had Hien just been a figurehead for the resistance.

As he finished, he held out the plate towards Ciradyl, nodding at one of the other cushions on the floor to sit on in the sparse room—other than offloading some of his gear and changing into clean clothes, he had yet to do anything else with the space, not even rolling out the mattress to actually get ready to sleep. ”Care for some manjū?” he asked, as conversationally as if he hadn’t just been discussing the possibility of martyring one of Osprey’s last loyal nobility. ”One of your people suggested them for a light snack. I couldn’t wait until they came back with the tea to try a couple.”

Ciradyl tilted her head innocently ”Is there something wrong?” She softly asked, knowing full well his attention would have been drawn to her attire.

She then nodded at his new spoken assessment, glad that he was seeing it as such ”His rescue would not have been so critical otherwise.” Silently she bit her tongue at this statement, stating it rather coldly. There was a quick reset on her features as she took his offer and sat neatly on a cushion facing him before continuing ”Hien is a capable leader and warrior that can unite Osprey against Valheim. I have done everything in my power to ensure it.” The coldness of her previous statement lifted, and a sense of hope accompanied her words.

The Faye plucked one of the better pieces on the plate ”Thank you, though it is better with tea.” She cracked a small smile before taking a bite out of the manju, glad that her people were fulfilling their duties well.

Ciradyl spoke again after finishing her snack ”I would like to hear your thoughts on how we may proceed from tonight.” Her voice direct ”I am sure you have more knowledge on these matters than I do so I wish to draw upon it, if that is agreeable?” Her tone and manner of speaking remained mostly formal. She had spent the past year carefully adjusting the way she spoke and words she chose. Now it was difficult to speak semi-casually without actively thinking about it.

Esben chewed thoughtfully on one of the little steamed sweet buns, thinking over Ciradyl’s request slowly before giving any answer. ”Asking me how to proceed on the resistance, ja?” he clarified once his mouth was no longer full. ”I should warn you, partisan warfare and such active destabilization isn’t really my specialty. But I can help with what I know, although I know that none of you will really like the first suggestion I have.”

Ciradyl nodded once to his question, finishing the last bit of her sweet bun as Esben continued ”Whatever counsel you can provide would be appreciated. I would like to hear it all the same.” She shifted slightly in place, wondering what his proposal was. There was little at this point she would not consider, not when everything was finally coming together.

”Outsource your planning and leadership,” came the blunt reply. ”If not to Edren, then to Skael, although I’d pick the closer option if I were you. Based off of the trouble you all have been having, what you started to have with Hien’s capture, it sounds to me like things are too centralized, and you’re not nearly at a point where that’s a good decision here. If he’s got a place outside of Kugane that’s more-or-less free from Valheimer control and can be made its own little island of independence, great, but that still makes for too prominent of a target if they bring their might to bear. The only people that should have any idea of the existence of every cell involved, able to coordinate them with each other, should be in a relatively unassailable position beyond Osprey’s borders, and the cells themselves should have no clue who is who outside their own groups. Anything else is both overly risky and overly open to dissolution via infighting should the snake’s head get severed.”

Ciradyl admittedly was caught off-guard by the proposal, shifting side to side. Nevertheless she remained quiet and listened to everything Esben said before forming her own ideas. He had been right. She didn't like it. Hien and Izayoi would no doubt be outraged at the thought of placing Osprey's fate in another foreign country's hands ”I admire your forthrightness. You speak without fear.” It could be considered a threat under different circumstances but she was being sincere. Slowly she stood up and smoothed out the edges of her nightgown, and gently bowed towards Esben ”It is getting late and I have taken enough of your night. I hope we can have another talk soon.”

”Come back any time!”

With that, Ciradyl exited from Esben's room and returned to her own with much to think about. Her caution had gotten the Ospreyan resistance this far, but as a result everything rested on her shoulders and the weight was begin to break her. It would be up to her to convince Hien and Izayoi if she were to go ahead with the suggestion. Her only fear would be that they would end up the puppet of another rival, but perhaps a puppet was just slightly better than a slave.

The next day came and went. True to his word, Hien gave the Kirins most of the daylight hours before he called them to convene in the safehouse's primary chambers. The young lord sat seiza before a table containing a map of Osprey as he waited for the party to gather. When they did, he cleared his throat and began.

"Thank you all for coming." Hien smiled briefly before his expression turned solely towards business. "Let's be about it, then. Before my capture, Lady Ciradyl's people had passed along intelligence regarding Valheim's operations in the northern desert. They've been moving men and materiel by airship towards the desert for weeks now. By all reckoning, there's nothing there. Any villages in the direction of where the airships have been traveling have been destroyed by the Blight already." He paused to let the matter sink in and point out the direction on the map before continuing on.

"Now, none of you are under any obligation to obey my commands." Izayoi gave him a brief sideeye at that, to which he didn't respond. "Let me be clear, this is a request, not an order. I hold no illusion I've any power over the lot of you, but our goals are aligned. Everyone here would be benefited more by cooperation in this regard. We've theorized that whatever Valheim is up to in the desert, it has something to do with the Blight. Given that it's your stated goal, I can't imagine why you'd refuse to go. Now, Izayoi's traveled throughout the desert extensively throughout her younger years, or so she's told me. She can guide you through the dunes."

"Indeed." Izayoi nodded, taking the cue to speak. "Minimize exposing your skin to the sun. If you must wear armor, wear cloth both over and underneath it to shield the metal from heat. I will confer with the moogle to stock plenty of water."

"Very good. In any case, Lady Ciradyl's people can smuggle you all back out of the city. Considering the chaos you've all caused among the garrison, there should be enough gaps in their coverage to leave easily, but we'll not take chances when all your faces are likely known at this point. Any questions? You'll be departing in the morning, so do get plenty of rest."

The next day, Robin could overhear some of the servants gossiping throughout the safehouse as she went about whatever morning routine she had.

“Did you hear? The Wild Dance is alive! She was part of that prison break last night to free Lord Hien.”

“Truly? She was the Emperor’s last hope five years ago. If Ranbu no Izayoi stands with our fighters, perhaps victory may be in sight after all.”

One thing that her old man had taught her was to never slack when it came to her training.

No matter what happened the previous day, if she wanted to keep improving, if she truly wanted to use her blade to help others, that meant that she should be practicing as long as she could safely move.

And so, that was her morning routine.

The speed of her draw. The manner in which the blade cut the air itself. These were all things Robin was supposed to practice.

And that’s what she did.

Draw. Slash. Once. Twice. Three times.

Sheath.

Draw. Slash. Once. Twice. Three times.

Sheath.

Draw—

It was part of her wakeup routine, and it only made sense to do it before she did any bathing. Practice always made her sweaty, after all, so why clean up and have breakfast before that?

It was on her thirtieth drill that she overheard the Servants.

It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar. Heroes, villains, those were the sort of people she heard about all the time. Robin already heard the name Ranbu no Izayoi before.

It was certainly more infamous in her homeland then famous, but at the same time—

She wasn’t quite sure what to think. She didn’t regret giving her assistance, and the mere fact that the samurai was so famous was something exciting, deep down. But the fearsome reputation she had in her homeland was still something that lingered in the back of her mind.

Robin didn’t particularly care for the uncertainty it left her with, deep inside, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that it was there all the same.

The subject of Robin’s musings entered the courtyard herself, and the servants’ whispers stopped. Izayoi had heard them briefly, but tried to ignore it. Though their faith still rankled. It wasn’t something she deserved. Truly, the situation in Kugane was desperate.

Regardless, she had her forms to go through. Five years. Five years spent not practicing at all. Iai slash from the draw. Follow-up. Uppercut. Downward cleave. All horrendously clumsy in her own eyes. She’d been a master before. Now all her skills amounted to was cutting down novitiates and impressing laymen. To the average eye, Izayoi was still fast. But it was a far cry from the godspeed she’d commanded once upon a time.

It was hard to focus on training when the subject of the servants’ discussion suddenly entered the courtyard. It was as if they’d been fortelling something.

Robin found herself distracted from her own training at the sight of the samurai woman’s own practice session. It was almost what she expected. Speed. Ferocity. The kind of thing the average person would surely think of when they heard of her reputation.

And yet—

Something wasn’t entirely right.

Her old man had drilled her extensively at her request, and though her school of swordplay was not the same as that of Osprey’s warriors, it wasn’t as if there was no overlap in skills.

Robin could see it, even just a little. It wasn’t quite as fast, quite as agile, as she’d expected. There was no doubt that Izayoi was far beyond the average warrior, and still steps ahead of herself as well.

But it wasn’t quite as fast, quite as ferocious, as she wanted it to be, was it?

Another series of strikes in Izayoi’s kata. Better than they’d been five months ago, yet still worthless compared to her heyday. She felt the eyes upon her, of course. At least that particular sense was still sharp enough to be usable.

It was the Fey girl. Izayoi resisted the urge to sigh. At least she wasn’t wearing that ridiculous coat this morning. Still, the Mystrel looked towards her, eyes narrowed.

”You were performing drills of your own before I arrived. Unless you’ve something to say to me, proceed with your own business, girl.”

Robin was not usually one to hesitate, but then she wasn’t usually speaking with such an infamous figure. The boyish girl paused a few moments as she chose her words, before stepping forward.

“... It’s impressive, how swift you are, but—” she paused again as she tried to figure out how to put it into words, “... You’re rusty, aren’t you? I… couldn’t help but noticing, even if we’re practicing different kinds of swordplay.”

She hesitated again. She wanted to offer assistance. Despite everything, the cause that Ranbu no Izayoi fought for now was one that would free her people from oppression. So, helping her would help with that goal.

“I don’t know if I can be of assistance, but if you ever want some sort of training partner I can offer my hand.”

”...I am.” Izayoi reluctantly ground the words out through her teeth. ”You heard me the previous day. I had not touched a sword for so many as five years.”

The older woman turned to face the younger, sword in hand. As much as it rankled, she’d do anything at this point to regain as much of her strength as possible, as quickly as possible. If she had to entertain this girl’s suggestion, then there wasn’t much of a choice. At least from what Izayoi had seen so far, it wasn’t as if Robin wasn’t at the very least passable with her blade. She’d likely get something out of this, more or less.

”Very well, I accept. Would you prefer live steel, or practice weapons?”

Robin inhaled deeply. It was probably for the best to use training weapons, ultimately. She’d been using her sword when she was training on her own, but when it came to sparring blade against blade training weapons made sure no-one could possibly get hurt.

While using live steel was a more romantic option out of the stories Robin so enjoyed, she couldn’t ignore the fact that this meant either of them could take hits from the other and avoid injury.

“Practice weapons would probably be for the best,” she said with a smile. Thankfully, it seemed as if they did have one of similar size and shape to her own sword. While certainly a blade was a blade, the shape and style of Osprey’s katana and other various swords were quite different from what she was used to, and it wouldn’t be a very productive training session if she was trying to learn how to wield one properly on the fly.
With her blade held pointed upwards and ahead of her, she slowly lowered it into place, taking her position across from Ranbu no Izayoi.

It was time to begin.

Izayoi nodded, sheathing her blade and taking a bokken from a nearby weapon rack, leveling it at Robin. Her style would be hampered without access to her battojutsu, but she’d trained for years in the fundamentals before her master had ever let her even attempt an iai strike. It wouldn’t be an issue, and it was always important to return to the basics every now and then.

She drew in a breath, gripped the wooden sword in both hands, and nodded.

”Begin.”

___

The bout was closer than Izayoi would have liked, though she still emerged victorious in the end. The girl had technical skill, at least. Whoever trained her did a fair job of it, and some of Robin’s tricks did give Izayoi a run for her money in her weakened state.

She removed the tip of her bokken from Robin’s throat, backing up a few steps as the both of them caught their breath.

”A passable effort. Comparable to Arton, at least.” She admitted, flicking and brandishing the wooden sword out of habit, as she would have flicked the blade off her real blade after a battle. ”You would have done well for yourself in the war, unless you had the misfortune to encounter me at my full strength in those days.”

Her old man had told her plenty of times that one small mistimed attack, one mistaken block, could cost her everything.

Had this been a real fight, it would have. Ranbu no Izayoi was rusty, to be sure, but even then she was still highly skilled.

Robin knew, really, that a hero always had a long climb, and this did help demonstrate that after the thorough defeats she’d doled out to her enemies prior. She managed to force down any disappointment at her loss. Her opponent was more experienced and this was for her sake, after all.

She couldn’t let herself look visibly let down by her defeat. Besides, it was a growing experience for her, too, wasn’t it? Her old man had told her that losing a duel could be just as useful as winning it when it came to learning.

“Given your history, I think I should take that as high praise,” Robin responded brightly as she lowered her training sword as well, “I’d be happy to do it again, if it helps you regain your old skills at all. I think it’s good for the both of us.”

”My history?” Izayoi scoffed, shaking her head. ”You’ve been listening to too many rumors and tall tales, from either side.” Her head inclined in the direction the servants had been whispering earlier. They’d departed earlier, once they realized the subject of their rumormongering had been present.

”You’ve said you wanted to be a hero. Ranbu no Izayoi is no such thing. A hero would have saved her nation from invasion twice over.” She remarked bitterly. ”Edren’s propaganda about my actions ekes closer to the truth than I would care to admit. A hero would have at least brought victory after resorting to the depths I did.”

Izayoi drew herself up, staring Robin dead in the eyes.

”If you must take a lesson from me, remember this: nothing of what we do matters in the end should we fail. Death was and is a preferable alternative.”

Robin hesitated a moment. She hadn’t intended to touch upon those topics, as she didn’t even really know how to address them herself.

But when it came down to it, despite her own desires—

“It’s not that I was seeing you merely as a ‘hero’,” she began. Though her feelings on the topic of heroes were quite evident(and so, for that matter, were Izayoi’s), her appreciation for Izayoi’s come from a different place.

“If I want to reach those heights and take such a title, it goes without saying that I need to hone my skills as sharply as I can,” she continued, “So… so if someone with as much experience as you have, even if your skills need to be honed again, gives me even the faintest praise I feel as if I’m on the right path.”

Addressing the ‘depths’, or the matter of failure, was something Robin still struggled with. Of course she knew. The Limbtaker was hardly an unfamiliar title.

But they were allies now, and the freedom of Osprey was a noble goal.

”If only you’d dodge my blows instead of the subject.” Izayoi sniped, shaking her head.

”Why do you wish to be a ‘hero’ so badly, in any case? Glory? Fame? Self-satisfaction? To aid those in need implies that people are ailing. Suffering.” She’d had her taste of all of the above once upon a time. Needless to say, Izayoi hadn’t been suited to such.

”Self-improvement is a worthy goal for any one person, yet you seek the destination more than the journey. Seek strength, skill, and cunning above all first, then do as you wish.” It was something her master would have said, though he would have been far more…brusque about the matter.

Robin opened her mouth to reply, and then slowly shut it again.

A hero helped people in need, the kind of people who were suffering. That’s why she’d taken down bandits and monsters for the various townsfolk before.

But—

The desire to be a hero specific, what was it for?

It was because of all those stories, wasn’t it?

So what did that mean?

“... Ah, well…” Robin scratched the back of her head awkwardly, “A perfect world probably wouldn’t need heroes, but as long as there’s people suffering, there should be people who should strive to help them.”

And of course, naturally, that meant getting stronger and more skilled. But her eyes were always on her goal no matter what.

Izayoi snorted. A simple answer, to be certain. But it wasn’t one that wasn’t noble. Perhaps the girl really was what she presented herself as. She replaced her bokken onto the rack she took it from, looking back towards Robin with a slightly less cold stare.

”Perhaps. Though you’ll help no one as you are. Clean yourself up and eat something, Lord Hien will likely have information for us soon. And for the love of Etro, do not wear that coat of yours so long as we stand within Osprey’s borders.” Her tone turned strict near the end before she walked off. For all Izayoi had talked, she needed a bath herself after the training session.

Clean herself up…

That’s right, she’d needed to take a bath even more after a training session like that!

And it was only now she realized how hungry she was.

It was time the aspiring hero’s morning routine to continue.

Her coat, though—

Well, as long as she could find something just as fashionable, it was fine.

By the time the group had gathered under Hien's summons, Eve had awakened and fully recovered. Now clad in a fresh set of clothes bearing the exact same design as before, she occupied a spot around the central table, within the Ospreyan noble's sight. As usual, she began listening to what Izayoi's former protege had to say. The mere mention of her hated creator's name was enough to get her full attention. So, the tyrants had vested interest in this seemingly barren desert... but what exactly? Due to how she came to be, Eve's mind was quick to assume that they had a research facility there, part of their grand plan of playing god, but she realized it was a mere wild guess due to how little information they currently had. It could be anything, but whatever it was, nothing good could come from leaving Valheim unattended.

Of course, they were united under a common goal, not obedience to an authority figure, that much was obvious; Eve failed to see why Hien needed to mention such things, but then again, there’s a good reason why he's the future sovereign and not her. "For the benefit of those who weren't present at Atsu, I must inform you that I do not require any form of sustenance besides ether, so...." This time, it was Eve's turn to give Izayoi the side-eye, "Please do not insist on reserving our precious water for me." If rations are essential, then water is of the utmost importance. As far as she learned from adventuring with others, people could survive for more than a month without food, but water? Less than a few weeks. Of course, she'd be more than happy to be proven wrong here, the pseudolon had no illusion that her abomination of a body had its perks, especially from a purely pragmatic perspective.

Now, questions, well she didn't have questions exactly, but she did have something to say to the party, just in case, "Everyone, though we haven't yet identified the nature of Valheim's scheme there, if... if what we found there is an accursed facility similar to the one that created me, then we must do all in our power to destroy it." She paused, briefly glancing toward Galahad before addressing the party once more, "I firmly believe that what they're doing, desecrating the very sanctity of the Primals and life itself, is the cardinal reason behind the Blight's emergence. Assuming this is true, if we stop Valheim, then the Blight too will end."

---

It was nearing the dead of night, most of the Kirins and their hosts had already turned in for the night, yet a few souls still stirred. One of Ciradyl’s attendants offered Galahad a short- if curt bow as he entered a makeshift hospital-dorm. A few of Ciradyl’s men had suffered minor injuries during the raid, alongside one of their own. Eve, the eidolon girl still had yet to wake, and while in the moment Galahad had no sway over her decision making, he still felt responsible for her wellbeing.

The attendants had wrapped the girl in simple clothing, the dragoon’s adorned cloak folded over a nearby chair. Wrapping the cloak back over his shoulders, Galahad took a seat by the bed. With all that had been happening since the others joined, Galahad had yet to have taken any serious time with anyone, much less examine them closely. At a glance, one might’ve mistook her for a normal girl, save the gray hair and tail. Asleep, Eve looked rather unassuming, it was hard to imagine that this was more akin to a dragon a few short hours ago.

Just the memory caused Galahad’s hand to instinctively flex, reaching for a weapon that was not there. Every single one of his instincts were screaming at him. Eve was dangerous. Moreso, she was destructive- more than any individual member of their party. A humanoid representation of the apex predators he was trained from the moment he could walk to kill.

”A monster.” he breathed.

"Correct."

Eve's soft voice filled the room through the curt reply as her eyelids fluttered open, it seemed the horned and tailed chimera was less dormant than Galahad initially anticipated. The Dragoon coughed in surprise, before glancing away awkwardly. Having already experienced the toll of unleashing the Dragon King's signature power in the past, she already concluded that nothing fatal happened to her while comatose; it seemed she'd live to fight another day, good. Furthermore, the fact her comrade was here meant they were the ones who recovered her, another stroke of fortune. It'd be quite troublesome if she was still left on the battlefield, or worse, captured by Valheim and sent back to one of their accursed facilities. Never again...

Eve sat up, not paying any mind to her new apparel and instead focused on the Edrenian Dragoon seated by her bedside. Judging from the situation, it'd appear he was the one who rescued her, just as she requested the team to do. "I'm something that should not exist, a very mockery of life itself." The girl spoke with such detached tranquility that it could only mean this was far from the first time she uttered those phrases.

"That's why they must pay, that's why I fight." For someone who superficially looked even smaller and younger than Miina, Eve certainly gave no impression of acting nowhere close to her apparent age, indeed, what lied before the exiled noble truly is an engineered living weapon, not a young girl, "And I must thank you, Galahad, without you, my fight would've ended by now."

”How long have you been awake?” Galahad asked, shifting somewhat uncomfortably. The detached air and manner of speaking was always at least somewhat unsettling, more so now that he was the only recipient of her words. ”That was unkind of me, instinct if you will.”

Was it shame he felt? Embarrassed that she'd heard his words, yes, but also in that he understood so little of what Valheim had done to the poor girl.

”What about your family? Do you know where they are? Don't they worry for you? “

"Not long. Your voice was the first thing I heard after I regained consciousness." The faux eidolon answered matter-of-factly, then curled a small stoic smile, bereft of even a hint of malice, "Perhaps, but you weren't mistaken, I am a monster. You're a monster slayer, we're not even supposed to be allies." After all, there was no offense to be taken in the face of cold hard facts. However, while Galahad's slip of tongue might not have any ramifications whatsoever to Eve, what he said next certainly did. At his inquiries, the white-haired girl's visage subtly curled into one of tranquil fury, her red eyes stuck open wide as her pupils constricted into slits, much like the dreaded dragons themselves, the very same expression that Izayoi witnessed at the ruined village.

"I was made, not born, in a sterile laboratory, Valheim engineered a weapon and treated me as such..." She answered, her tone calm, yet dripping with venom, like a deceptively still lake ready to swallow and drown all who dared to step foot in it, "Except for one, Dr. Eve, my mother, the only shelter of warmth amidst the sea of callousness." Eve closed her eyes as a long drawn-out exhale left her, "She freed me, but paid for it with her life." Her lids opened once more, returning eye contact with the dragoon, "For that, I'll ensure the empire's destruction even if it kills me."

”She sounds kind.” Galahad said quietly, his thoughts straying towards that of his own family, his mother, warm and gentle, his father harsh and cold. ”She reminds me of my mother– though I don't think I'll be welcomed back home with open arms any time soon, even if we complete our mission.”

Slowly standing, Galahad stretched a bit, stifling a short cough. ”I suppose it's not quite the same, but I think quite a few of our party have been separated from their families for one reason or another.”

”Back in Edren, Valheim was always just another boogeyman, a story to tell children about so they'd behave. We knew they existed, but they always stayed in Osprey and never bothered the rest of the continent so we never gave them much heed– at least, not until the Blight came about.”

“Some of us are here for the Blight, others are here to kill Valheim- to be honest, I could tolerate, but didn't really care for the latter, but the more I learn about them, the more it feels to me that Valheim is as much a blight to the people as the actual Blight itself.

The petite black mage then listened to the Edreni's perspective regarding the mysterious empire from across the ocean, "They're naught but power-hungry tyrants, using their power not to help the helpless, but oppress them instead." She had no love lost for the empire, they all could burn for all she cared, "I firmly believe Valheim brought upon the Blight." She then stared at Galahad dead in his eyes, "Proof? Look at me... look at me and imagine a whole legion of me's, that's what they're hoping to achieve. Bahamut isn't the only Eidolon whose image they've desecrated, the empire is cultivating more chimeric abominations even as we speak. There’s no reason to doubt that the universe itself is responding to their folly attempts at playing god."

”That's a terrifying thought.” Galahad admitted candidly, ”Men and women without a choice but to destroy. It seems that is to be Valheim's legacy. I don't know what their ultimate goals are, but we'll stop them. I swear it.”

”For now, you should finish resting. This war waits for no one, and we'll need you in the coming days, no doubt.” Galahad said as he began to turn, pausing a few steps away from the door. Turning back, he slowly, gently placed his hand on the top of the Eidolon's head and gave her a light pat. ”I was wrong. For that I apologize. You're not a monster– Valheim is.”

"If the consequence for failure is an apocalypse, then we must succeed or die trying." Eve's frowning expression subtly, yet suddenly shifted into one of mixed emotions as the Edreni Dragoon openly admitted to her being needed, being... wanted. "..." The rational part of her mind might infer the unsurprising obviousness of his statement, especially after what she did to facilitate Hien's escape, but still, hearing it from the team’s leader shook her right in her artificial soul.

The horned mage pursed her lips, and unlike her usual bouts of taciturn silence, this time, she didn't know what to say instead of choosing not to speak. "Nn..." The only "word" she could utter was a small whimper, one red eye closing as the dragonslayer's calloused palm caressed her bleached locks, "I-..." ’...-already told you, you weren't mistaken’ was what her mind came up with, but her vocal cords never produced the words, instead she responded by her pale cheeks rosening as she slightly turned away, also might or might not be pouting.

"A-... acknowledged..."

Rudolf's own training had, by force of long habit on the road and in the Kirins' travels, taken place in the dead of night and well after he and his business with Ciradyl had been sorted out. If anything, it had served as a reward at the very end of that long, terrible day they'd all had, capping off the final task's completion with some good, solid, physical work— a final refrain of the preamble that had been his careful maintenance hours before.

Sending reports wasn't terribly hard, their host honestly quite accommodating, but composition when the subject matter had been... well, everything that had transpired in this week alone (that he was at liberty to say, operational security demands being what they were)? Another story altogether. He had been very happy to get the different takes on how to delicately phrase the parts where things started publicly exploding sorted meritocratically and out onto the page, rather than bounce around his skull ad infinitum.

The morning after had seen him awake from a thankfully dreamless torpor a bit behind some of the others— while early rises had been hammered into him from a young age, late nights and sore muscles had recency on their side, and he found himself in the courtyard third in line, busying himself with morning stretches, calisthenics, and plyometrics rather than swordplay. Swords were measured by the arm wielding them— he'd be foolish to ignore the athletic gulf present between himself and those he chased. Plus, he preferred to have the blood flowing before he brought his attention to skill work again so soon. Training different energy systems and different movement helped the refined technique find time to settle further into the muscle. Variety was the spice of life. There were as many justifications as you could ask for.

Besides—

The percussion of hardwood striking hardwood, cracking drums that filled the air, set the rhythm for the waltz his eyes drew as they followed the flow of the spar before him. Robin was being forced back. Fighting for it admirably, but nonetheless giving up ground.

—The two that had gotten in here ahead of him made it impossible to totally ignore the craft. Whatever work he did physically, mentally he was there, in the thick of things with them, watching, reading, judging, theorizing, timing, planning. Eyes and mind made for excellent tools on the field. A proper soldier always strived to understand.

Giving up ground was the symptom. Giving up initiative was always the root of these things, and no less true here. Her moments came in bursts, where novel ideas and deft, flashy tricks overcame mechanical disadvantage to throw out something weird from that theatrical cut-and-thrust tutelage, she couldn't seem to capitalize for more than maybe a dozen seconds at a time before Izayoi's fundamentals forced the margin closed.

This wasn't a discredit to his fellow Edrenian. She was good at keeping a line of threat interposed between herself and Izayoi, her reactions were sharp, she kept her nerve in spite of the shape the fight took. Not classical schooling, but a far cry from waving it about like an idiot, breaking down at the first sign of trouble. She was simply fighting uphill against a decade or more extra depth of pursuit, much of it forged in the crucible of wartime. For all that her powers had diminished (and they had, given that his eyes could keep up and begin pointing out to him details where she'd had to have lost certain nuance) Izayoi's feel for the blade had returned enough that she could crush the distance presented by Robin's thrusts, have the first and last word in exchanges, and dictate position as the threats compounded until it all ended, bokken at the throat. He didn't envy the position.

He left before their exchange of words really got going, into those motivational and personal weeds he himself chronically avoided. He'd been tolerated well enough for watching as their match had begun to heat up, aware that this shield of gawking bystanders had made themselves scarce but too interested to leave with them. Had to have been well aware of him, even if their focus had more important people to worry about.

He wouldn't push his luck any further by listening in.

---

Rudolf didn't find any reasons to object to the idea presented when Lord Hien's summons brought them down to brass tacks. He had the important details right— they'd been operating under the assumption that Valheim and the Blight had some relation given how their appearances had coincided. Leads on one doubtlessly were worth investigating as potential leads on the other in any event— and the massed movement in directions that had been pretty well mowed down by the blight itself by all accounts were more than lead enough.

If nothing else, getting an idea of whatever the hell the Valheimr were up to out there would at least serve to help the interests of their hosts. Be dumb to blow off the only benefactor and safe port in town, especially for the four of them that had unavoidably made their faces known to the invaders by getting brought in for imprisonment (or as he'd found out, straight up execution). A less generous sort would likely smirk at how that twisted certain arms, but Rudolf was very pointedly not his father— He didn't really believe that would be the thanks they'd earned from young lord.

So he nodded along, as the discussion shifted towards the provisions they'd be making for the journey through the dunes, Izayoi heading the expedition. Marching into Valheimr territory unarmored didn't strike him as ideal at first blush, but heatstroke was already a thing you needed to be wary of in Edren. Up here, the sun often felt twice as harsh. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the Skaellers were handling it. Lots of water and shade would definitely be preferable to offset that.

"I'm all for wrecking whatever their infrastructure is up there, sure. Worst we do is waste more of their manpower and resources. For the journey, though," he nodded to in Eve's direction before leaning forward, eyes poring over the large splotch of parchment that was characterized by little more than dune. "A lot of water's a precious payload. How likely are we to be able to proceed unaccosted? It goes without saying that if the area's been hit hard by Blight, the local wildlife is gonna be... Fun."

He wasn't even going to pretend to be enthused. The real monster hunters of the world were none too happy with the state of affairs regarding all that, either.

---

Arton left the common area as soon as Izayoi disappeared with Hien and headed into his own room without so much a word to anyone else.There he stripped off his layers of armor until he was just wearing the common clothes he wore underneath it all. He dragged his smithing kit out of his backpack and pulled the pieces of armor around him. Halfway through tinkering with the chestplate he realized that he was missing a precision tool. A quick but thorough search revealed he must have lost it at some point on the journey. He didn’t want to face Valheim’s forces again without the modifications so he pondered on who might have the tool he needed.

There was a firm knock on Eliane’s door and waited for it to open ”Sorry to bother ya, but do you happen to have some small pliers?” His upper right arm and lower right leg were tightly wrapped with bandages over his clothes, traces of red poking through the fabric. There was clear exhaustion in Sollan's eyes and overall expression, as much as he tried to hide it with a small smile.

Eliane was not so quick to retreat from the common area once they were within the safety of the safe house. With the adrenaline from the battle wearing off, she prepared a nice pot of steaming coffee with the beans she had brought along with her from Midgar, before she finally retired to her room. She had spent a lot of her special shells during that fight to shoot down those bizarre bird-things and to take special care of Reisa, so she needed to replenish her stock of explosive bullets. It was going to be some time until she could buy more, so after taking a sip of coffee, she pulled out her own toolkit to hand reload some of her regular cartridges with the more potent stuff.

She was midway through this when there was a knock on the door, but she stood up and answered. “Oh, Arton.” Eliane tilted her head as she looked at him, but nodded at his question. “I do, but I’m still halfway done with them,” she responded, gesturing at her handiwork at the nearby desk. Said pliers were out, which she used to pull the bullets from their casings to reload. “I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

The Skaelan officer suddenly held up her pot of black nectar. “Coffee while you wait?”

His eyes did wander over to the desk, briefly looking it over as he considered his response. It would be easy to decline, slink back to his room, and come back in a few minutes “A coffee actually sounds great, actually. It's been a rough night.” He cracked a smirk, speaking as if she wasn't there. His thoughts were a complete mess and trying to process what he had seen tonight. Arton entered the room after getting permission and found a padded chair, likely used for reading, and let out an exhausted sigh. It was strange the one person he seemed to be able to relax around was also the one he had been most paranoid about.

”Is overthrowing a foreign occupation also what you had in mind when we started this journey?” He let out a small chuckle, reflecting on the path so far.

“Good thing I have a spare cup,” Eliane declared, as she poured him a still-hot mug of the caramel-colored drink for Arton before handing the beverage to him. She turned back to her work as he found a seat nearby.

There were light tinkling noises as Eliane continued to work on her cartridges, fitting the little slugs back into the brass shells. “Hmm…” she hummed in response to his question. “No. But it was a possibility that we considered…”

The aroma of the coffee flowed into his nose before he took a small sip and was thankful that he had practiced restraint. Arton chuckled at her response ”Of course.” However, that chuckle soon died out after he realized Eliane was dead serious. He stared down into the swirling, dark golden liquid and nervously thumbled the rim of the cup.

You had a good view of Captain Reisa, right? Was there anything about her…that seemed strange?” Arton asked lowly. He couldn’t get her face out of his mind since they made it to the safehouse. There was a sickening feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake. It wouldn’t make sense. She was supposed to be dead.

Eliane canted her head to the side in the way she usually did in response to certain things. In this case, it was Arton’s reaction to her words. Didn’t it make sense to have contingency plans? Taking the opportunity to take a sip of her own coffee while he played with his –and wasn’t that a waste– she kept her head tilted for his next question.

“Reisa? Hmm…” She thought back to the entire fight, recalling how strong her armor was against her bullets. She held up one of her newly refilled explosive rounds up to Arton, and gave it a shake. “The amount of explosives I used in addition to Chisaki’s was more than lethal, but she did survive a high powered round to the chest,” she allowed. “Maybe she’s still alive. I wouldn’t be too surprised.”

Another pause.

“But what makes you think that?”

The possibility that she could be dead didn't even register in his mind. It wasn't that Arton believed Eve, Eliane, and Esben didn't do sufficient damage. He took a deep sip of the coffee in his hands, hoping it would steady his nerves like a stiffer drink. ”She didn't seem to concerned with her situation.” He added before the pause, finding the courage to reply to the question that would surely follows. The time was here.

”Because…I think I…I think she is someone….I knew… used to know.” The cup trembled in his hands much like his voice. His breathing pitched as he finished, feeling ill all of a sudden. Her ruby eyes were burned in the back of his mind ever since that day. He had been unable to sleep since that first encounter because something inside him knew…that Captain Reisa…was Furi.

It had been nearly two decades since she was taken but seeing Reisa's face tonight dug up memories he thought were long buried. It was impossible to say for sure but Arton HAD to find out and that put him at odds with Izayoi ”I lost both my parents in a bandit attack while we were traveling. There was a girl named Furi, my best friend, who was traveling with us. They took her and they might have gotten me if not for Cyth, my mentor.” He grimly recalled, failing to include the guards and couple servants that had accompanied his carriage. A secret for another time.

Eliane paused her tinkering to turn around and look at Arton after that statement. She leaned in, interest obvious in her eyes. It didn’t stop her from sipping her coffee, though. The story behind the loss of his parents was new to her, but she wasn’t the type to be good at offering sympathies, and so she didn’t offer them at all. “I see. That woman is Skaelan?” She was assuming so, and said it with surprise before she continued, still sound skeptical and confused. “How does a little girl go from being snatched by bandits to becoming an awful Valheimer committing warcrimes on foreign soil?”

Arton looked just as confused as Eliane sounded. The Furi he knew was confident and steadfast. Her family was struggling financially but she had dreams of entering the Garden. His form slouched and his eyes looked towards the ground. Eliane wouldn't be able to help him think this through if he withheld important information ”It wasn't bandits. It was Household Guard. Their first volley killed the guards, the next hit took down the few servants that accompanied us. My father took down one and wounded another but…” He trailed off ”They would have taken me too if not for Cyth.”

Arton finished the rest of his coffee before it reached room temperature. The details of his tragedy closely resembled an infamous incident in which the Overseer's, Overseer Auclair , brother and his family were ruthlessly murdered while traveling to their southern estate. There were no bodies of the attackers found at the scene nor the body of the brother's son. It nearly sparked an international incident at the time. His attention turned to Eve as evidence of Valheim's sorcery ”They made Eve, right? Maybe they, I dunno, are mind-controlling her or something.” He said exasperated.

Eliane blinked at Arton, and then stared at him with a nearly blank expression. It wasn’t quite incredulity, but it was a very close approximation for Elly. That amount of information, and that amount of contradictory information was troublesome to process. That was significantly before her time in the Household Guards, but even so– the very idea that the Guards ambushed and killed those that they were sworn to protect was unthinkable.

She opened her mouth, raised a finger, before closing her mouth and pausing. “Impossible! The Household Guards? Treason like that would have tainted the name forever.”

”Unless it wasn’t…” Arton trailed off as if something had just clicked in his mind. It was easy to throw his anger and grief towards the guard and the houses. He had accepted in his heart that they were responsible for everything that transpired. It wasn’t until fighting against Valheim and the expression on Eliane’s face that he dared to question that belief ”Valheim. It was them.” He breathed the words through gritted teeth. They had infiltrated the king of Edren’s castle so why couldn’t they impersonate a few Household guards? They were obviously skilled marksmen of their own. Guilt, shame, and anger coursed through him at his ignorance and of his blind prejudice towards his own people.

”Thanks for the coffee. I need to…go.” A deep wrath wrapped around his voice as he stood up, setting down the coffee cup with a heavy softness. His original reason for the visit disappeared in his mind.

Eliane’s eyes widened at the revelation. It was a lot to process, but it made sense. Valheimian meddling as far as Skael? And then there was Arton’s background to consider with what he revealed, too. “Yes,” she simply agreed, pausing over what Arton had said and the implications for her and Skael. Maybe she would have to talk to someone else. For the moment, the coffee and the cartridges lay forgotten.

---

Dark bags hung underneath Arton's otherwise cyrstal blue eyes as he stood off to the side. He all but glared towards the map of Osprey as Hien spoke, arms crossed and tucked close his chest. The normally light and playful energy around him had seemingly been replaced by a dark cloud as he barely made eye contact with anyone present at the meeting. The only sleep he had gotten that night was a couple hours where his body physically could not stay awake any longer from exhaustion. He lost count of how many times he had paced wall to wall in his room, fighting the desire to return to the airship's wreckage. It felt as thought he was being torn in two.

The information about a possible Valheim facility did break him out of his mood. A top secret base was bound to have a lot of information, right? His attention turned to Eve as she spoke and he couldn't agree more that something like that had to be destroyed, after he found out what he wanted to know. What was tearing him apart was the fact he couldn't be sure Reisa was Furi. He wasn't sure about a lot after speaking with Eliane last night.

Arton thought about any questions he might have for Hien and it was tough to fight through the fog in his mind to find a reasonable one to ask "Looks like I'm going to have to spend the rest of the day adjusting my armor for the heat." He tried to say casually but a trace of annoyance underlined his words. It was an environment he had not little experience with and not a lot of time to experiment with configurations.

Well, her attempts to find out... much of anything hadn't gone terribly well. She didn't know why just stepping outside got so much attention but the uncomfortable amount of attention suggested that maybe she was recognisable for some reason? Given that, Miina had made an about turn and made her way back as fast as possible.

Not directly, though. She had learned some things before realising that she was working with criminals.

Now they were going to a desert, though? Hm, she wasn't the most experienced with dry heat; obviously even the coast had been pretty humid, but at least she was used to high temperatures. That would mean needing a few more layers, though, or rearranging her current ones... also finding some gloves, but that should be pretty easy. Just a bit annoying if it came to fighting.

"Umm... I c-c-could help w-with magic? Sometimes?" It wasn't like she could create anything permanent, but before she'd left home, "cool things down a little" had pretty much been the only real use she ever had for ice spells. It certainly beat out lightning for practical utility, and she didn't need magic to start a fire. Unless it was really wet.