---

---

Esben frowned at Éliane's mention of his arm. He moved it around a bit more—he couldn't keep the grimace off his face at doing so, but it still moved as he wanted it to move, and nothing was stuck at an odd angle. "Seems fine enough to me!" he said with an incongruous tone of satisfaction in his voice. "Besides, the battle. We've got more to worry about than my arm, as you just pointed out, and I can't hoard her attention anyways."

With shaky hands, he pulled his weapons back over toward himself, hanging the buckler back on his belt and leaning the sword against a larger piece of rubble that had survived the fall. Then, with the help of that same rubble, pushed himself up to standing—swayed once, over-corrected and leaned hard the other way, and after steadying himself with a hand on the Dame Commander's shoulder remained upright. Just ahead of them, the rest of the group was beginning to move along, so he put his sword back in its sheathe, turning back to Éliane:

"Well, coming?"

---

Luckily, Esben could still walk unaided as the party followed behind Cid, taking in his history lesson and the newest directives that could be passed their way. He did what he could to follow along and store every useful tidbit of information away, though keeping his focus entirely on the man was proving more difficult than usual. He'd just have to write down what he could later and compare with the others to make sure he didn't miss anything—nothing terribly out of the ordinary, there.

Getting the chance to get some proper rest seemed more and more appealing the more they walked through, however...not that he'd voice the complaint. Best not to give too much ammunition to Éliane's misplaced command that he should lie down and wait for a full check-over. The knowledge that Valheim would likely send teams to seize the crystals that Cid was telling them about, though, stood out better than anything else; no doubt that would be going into both of the reports that would find their way back to Skael, if there was such a concrete threat of the Blight being brought up from within.

He frowned, a muffled sound further back catching his attention. He turned, hand dropping to his sword, just as Cid was saying something about expediting their trip to the surface—just in time to see the cathedral doors fly open despite their weight, Izayoi's old master facing them again. Heedless of the glow appearing at his feet he pulled his sword free, stepping back once to resume a fighting position—





Slowly, he placed his sword back where it belonged, covering his eyes with his other hand. He bit his tongue to stifle the groan that tried to rise from his throat, at the sudden light, the sudden shift, and the twisting in his stomach that accompanied the momentary sensory disorientation that followed an unexpected teleport.

"I hate that."

---

Whether it was fate, or a stroke of exceedingly good luck, the Kirins had miraculously stumbled their way into finding out the answers they so desperately sought. As it so turns, their working theory of Valheim creating the Blight was not exactly wrong, but it wasn't exactly right either. The Blight as they knew was more or less a direct result of their actions, but it wasn't a weaponized affliction, rather a dire consequence of their desire to gain power. At the very least they knew the Blight wasn't the Valheimr's attack dogs.

"Finally some answers, thank Etro." Galahad murmured, though his face remained grim despite the news. In some ways, the task ahead of them was even more daunting than just destabilizing Valheim's hold over Osprey. "The Blight beasts do seem to have been moving generally south from Osprey, which may coincide with the loss of the Fire Crystal... Is there any way to restore the crystal once it is lost or drained? Surely Osprey is not doomed to this blight forever, is it?"

Answers would never come, as they were interrupted by the reappearance of the revenant, crashing through the cathedral door. Galahad cursed as he tried to wheel around his weapon, desperately trying to figure out a plan. They were beaten and battered, and the revenant looked like it had strength to spare. Hells, Izayoi could hardly walk. In lieu of any answer he could think of, Galahad found himself staring downwards at a series of glyphs a their feet.

"Wait! No, Cid-"

The feeling of teleportation wasn't dissimilar to that of falling through the sky- though not nearly as enjoyable, for the Dragoon at least. "Not an experience I'd like to repeat." Galahad agreed with Esben, as he tried to gain a better picture of where they were. He took a moment to leap high into the air, to at least get a picture of where they were or any shelter they could find.

The party found themselves on their asses leagues away from the town they had just been fighting by, Galahad could only barely spot it on the horizon. In the chaos, Galahad realized they'd lost track of Goug, their cart, and the chocobo. He didn't recall them falling into the caves with them- and he doubted Goug would stick around to be shelled by the airship. They were practically stranded. Out of danger- for the moment, but still in the desert, now without their cart of supplies.

He nodded as Izayoi agreed to answer questions many likely held about the thing they had come across, her old master. It was a story Galahad would like to hear as well, but for the moment, they needed to get out of the sand.

"Crystals and undead." Galahad grumbled, "Well, at least we know now what we have to do to put a stop to Valheim and the Blight. Earth, Wind and Water crystals remain. Valheim will be after them, which means so will we."

Prying his helmet off of his face, Galahad squinted in the light as he shook off the sweat and fatigue that had gathered. He tied the helmet's strap around his halberd and threw the thing over his shoulder, again offering Izayoi his other shoulder. "Who can stand? Those who can help those who can't, and let us get out of this cursed sun."

"I think we've misplaced our moogle."

"..." Cid's response swiftly reminded Eve of her talk with Galahad in the safehouse after Hien's rescue. Multiple times now, her comrades had mentioned that she was not the monster, her creators were, yet... the fact remained that she was a thing that should've never existed. However, if even the Chosen of Etro himself deemed that she wasn't an abomination, that her existence wasn't a crime against nature, then maybe Galahad and the others had a point...

This was definitely something she should contemplate further, to reject the belief she had called true for years, it wouldn't be a small matter, just as difficult as asking the Dragonslayer to see wyrms as innocent animals instead of destructive monsters.

She'd stew on this later, but for now, they had a sage's wisdom to listen to.

"I see..." So the Revenant wasn't a Pseudolon after all, yet the alternative wasn't any better, instead of a Faux Odin, they had an Undead Ravager instead, equally dangerous and wrong. They had created something that should've never came to be, an abomination no matter their 'nature'. The solution was all the same, extermination.

Afterwards, the matter returned to Valheim's misbegotten ambitions to subjugate the power of the gods. Not satisfied with the desecrating Etro's crystal and the Primals' essence, they sought to spread their corruption to the elemental crystals as well, in fact, they had, partially at least. The Fire Crystal had fallen into their hands... and if the Kirins do nothing, soon, all three would follow suit and the world as they know it would end. Eve fully believed that Valheim couldn't see the certain doom at the end of their ambitions, they'd destroy the world first before acknowledging the price of their arrogance.

"We will. On our lives we swear it." The Pseudolon nodded with all the conviction she could muster, and she hoped each and every single member here shared said conviction. After all, what'd be the point of exacting vengeance, proving oneself, finding redemption, fulfilling one's mission, or finding one's lost loved ones in the face of the apocalypse? No, they'd do this or die trying.

Eve was looking forward to Cid's answers to Galahad's inquiries, see if Osprey could be saved, but then the reanimated corpse of Izayoi's former master returned...

"TCH!!" The black mage gritted her teeth, arcane aura already brimming from her petite frame as she prepared for their second encounter with the Revenant. "...?!" Though her focus was momentarily disrupted by the arrival of none other than the Lord of Hellfire himself...

"Ah...." How majestic, how terrible, all in equal measure, a True Eidolon...

Eve's breaths paused as she took in each and every detail of Ifrit's form, he might not be Bahamut, but even still, his kind were the very beings she and her 'siblings' were emulated after. Witnessing the Primal's glory with her own two eyes, deep in her heart, Eve could understand why Valheim sought to have such power for themselves.

By the time she came to be, Cid's teleportation circle had activated, sending all of the Kirins back to the surface, far away from the sacred temple, vertically and horizontally.

"..." Bahamut's artificial scion looked on toward the horizon, at the ruined village, silently praying that Etro would give Cid and Ifrit the strength to purge the Revenant from existence.

Sighing silently, she turned back toward the party, her comrades.

"That thing is no longer your master, Izayoi, merely a soulless meat-puppet created from using his body," Eve uttered bluntly, relaying the cold hard facts to the Mystrel Samurai, "His soul has long since passed on, now all can we do is destroy it before it claims even more lives that it already had."

Though her frame was much too petite to offer a shoulder to anyone except Miina (and maybe Robin), Eve could do something else to contribute instead, "I'll find and guide them back here." The Pseudolon nodded before she took off her hooded cloak then partially transformed, spawning and spreading her draconic wings to ascend and gain a bird's eye view over the landscape.

Once she had spotted Goug, their chocobos, and cart, she'd soar over to them to guide them back to the party's location. The divines know they could really use a ride or two right now.

Right. Blight. That was what they were stopping, as much as she was just a tagalong, but if she knew her brother they might need to go all around the continent anyway if he wasn't still in Osprey, so that would kill two birds with one stone. And maybe they'd stop constantly running into new and unknown people with magics far beyond her abilities or understanding? That would be nice.

She knew she wasn't that good, but the constant reminders were… unsettling. This time they even had teleportation! Teleportation! Even if it was such a short distance, that would be so helpful, instead she had to get out of trouble the old fashioned way, no matter how much easier it was…

Now… she'd better see to Rudolf's leg while they waited for Eve to get back with their transport. Even if it wasn't fixed entirely, that would hurt a lot when it got jarred about. Should she say something? Eh… better to just start working.

@vietmyke@Raineh Daze

His mind was a jumble, as the past few minutes jockeyed for dominance in sorting themselves out between Cid’s enlightening breakdown of the scope of their threat, the sudden appearance of the Revenant and Ifrit itself at the sage’s call, Primal Flame clashing with accursed steel… and then, once again, being flung to a faraway place, coated once more by sand.

He grit his teeth, and planted the greatsword he’d drawn as a last desperate measure into the shifting dunes, finding a mode of purchase with some effort. He ignored the complaints roaring up from the knee in the brace, echoed in sotto voce around much of the rest of his body— more important was the head count, making sure the Kirins had all made it out in one piece. Not that he lacked in any faith regarding the Greybeard’s ability or intent, but more…

Well. In more than one way, the world had been upended over the past hour. It was selfish, but while he still had the desperate times and desperate measures as a shield… he needed to reaffirm his allegiances, his usefulness, before he was forced to lay all his cards on the table.

“Them aside, it looks like he at least got everyone out,” he grunted his report to Galahad, stalking forward in an admirably disguised hobble as Eve took to the air further on. “I think Esben and Robin might both have taken a bump on the head, they seem pretty out of it, don’t know about Eliane…”

They had all heard the same thing as him. They all knew now what the true consequences of turning one’s back on the light of Etro were. Was there a chance they would all focus on the revival of the man that trained Izayoi into the monster she was today? Always. But he couldn’t count on it. They’d all seen. He had accepted that he’d have to pay the piper sooner or later. Maybe it wouldn’t be now. But the truth was the same—

He was on borrowed time.

He needed to prove—

“Hn?”

What he was unprepared to force out of his mind was the tingle beneath the skin that came between breaths, a cooling balm that quenched the angry flames, as a mass of fiber shifted, calmed, and began to reset.

He looked down, and at the sight of the red coat, outstretched hands aglow with white magic, and stylishly wide-brimmed hat, seemed to slacken, as if caught.

The foolishness of it all.

“…Thanks, Miina.” he said, returning his gaze to the horizon, but staying still as she worked.

You can’t get attention off of you, then…

Say something.

Be friendly.

Don’t be ungrateful. Secrets are bad enough. The Kirins at least deserve that courtesy.

“Hey, uh…” he began, searching for words that would do the impossible— clarify, ameliorate, silence doubts. Whether they were those he held, or those he knew they must have…

“Sorry about working you so hard, dumping all this on your head with no warning. You did great out there, that was a good hit. We, uh…”

Was there any difference?

He couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He was adrift. Lamely, all he could do was finish, and be unconvinced he was doing anything productive.

“We made a pretty good team. In my book. All things considered.”

Mother Etro, just kill him.

Ah---

Robin had tried to catch herself and land properly, tried to be steady so she'd be ready for anything down here, if they had to fall in the first place, but she'd only ended up landing nearly flat on her face.

When she rose, it was clear something had cushioned their fall.

Or perhaps it was someone.

The old man who identified himself as Cid had a lot to say, and at the moment Robin didn't have much else to do but listen. She didn't really know much about the deeper workings of the conflict, only that Valheim's forces were bad. They hurt people. If she wanted to be a hero, then it was her duty to intervene and protect others.

But this conflict went even beyond that.

Valheim had drained the light from the land itself, like some sort of parasite. Destroyed entire nations. They'd given rise to the Blight, even if it wasn't intentional.

It was an enormity of sin almost incomprehensible to her. The sort of thing you heard about in legends of dark and evil monstrosities that were destroyed by noble messengers of light.

And yet, those messengers had failed.

Again and again...

"Ah, wait---"

The Revenant had followed, and Cid had told them they were in too bad of shape to fight it. But that---

She could still fight! She'd already shown her ability to evade the monster's strikes, and she was only a little bruised from her awkward landing.

Robin was sure she could help. Why would she ever let an old man fight alone, even if he wielded this sort of power?

And yet he sending them away. The light beneath their feet glowing brilliantly, building and then---

It was all gone.

They stood in nothing more than ruins.

"..."

Her right hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of her blade.

He felt like... he'd reminded her a little of...

Robin took a deep breath, the gleaming tip of her sword slowly drifting downwards as she turned to face the others.

The sheer gravity of the conflict had exploded even beyond her understanding. Valheim was always an existential threat to these lands, always a horrible burden on those under its thumb, always a foe of unjust tyranny.

But now that went even beyond the people and to the land itself.

Her fingers tightened on her lowered blade.

Robin took a deep breath.

"... I'll stay with you, no matter what," she began, as she turned to face the others, "I'll go with you to the crystals and I'll help you save these lands and everyone in them. We'll beat Valheim and end the Blight together."

It was the only thing on her mind. The only thing she could even imagine saying.

It was her path forward. Her whole existence.

A hero couldn't step away from something like this. A hero couldn't ignore something like this.

Fear had to be conquered. Doubt could be ignored.

Her hand gripped tighter.

This was the only path, and Robin would take it no matter what the future held.

---

Éliane looked skeptically at Esben’s response. She debated for a moment whether or not to slap at his arm to make a point, but thought better of it. He might need still need it in the coming minutes, after all. Nonetheless, she watched him skeptically as the fellow Skaellan picked himself up. Raising an eyebrow at his unsteady gait, especially after using her shoulder as a crutch, she snorted.

“Yes. Don’t fall behind, okay?”

She strode forward, somewhat bewildered by his insistence that he was fine. Well, if he was fine, then, he would be fine catching up, right? She powerwalked away, making it in time to absorb most of the history lesson the elderly wizard was dumping onto her fellow party members.

She had some mixed feelings about the revelation that indeed, the Valheimians were absolutely behind the blight. She had been right all along! But all the same, it wasn’t as simple as waging war against the foreign invaders, as Cid was all too happy to tell. Given the importance of the information, she paid extra attention despite the fact that Esben was also around. Those reports would be vital, if the information could be corroborated.

Unfortunately, Éliane didn’t have a chance to ask any questions about the Crystals before they were so very rudely (and scarily, if she had to privately admit) interrupted by the revenant literally jumpscaring them.

Then, the world lurched and they were once again away. The pink-haired officer winced at the nauseating feeling of the teleport, her face of determination in the face of the new information very briefly being interrupted by the queasiness. After righting herself and getting it out of her system, she found herself nodding at Galahad’s words.

“Right! Locating and protecting the remaining crystals is paramount, but we must not let this knowledge leak beyond us.” She glanced at Esben, who was the true spy here, no matter how obtuse he was with it. “I do not want to lead them right to the prize.”

---

As the others started to rapidly devote themselves back to the combined arts of planning and conversation, Esben—who was rapidly beginning to feel once more the effects of the climate atop his injuries—coughed, a small globule of half-congealed blood landing in the sand at his feet as his nose began to bleed once more. He felt at it gingerly; broken, it had to be, Éliane wasn't just pulling his leg and trying to keep him out of the front by telling him it was.

And between a throat still raw and the break itself, attempting to force the dry desert air through his airway ruined the slight reprieve their underground escapade had given him.

"Right now, we won't lead anybody anywhere," he mumbled, feeling the Dame Commander's eyes upon him. Carefully so as not to set his head to moving too quickly lest the light and everything else conspire to make him lose his breakfast as well as his blood, he sat down on the sand, before leaning back to sprawl out entirely while Eve hunted down the rest of their train.

"I just need to rest..._{for a moment..."}

@The Otter

Disguised beneath the sigh that floated in, the young man latched onto something mildly familiar. At the very least, it served adequately as a way out of the quickly deteriorating attempt at conversation with somebody who, by all rights, you moron, should have been given the chance to just focus on her work. He reached upwards. The spy had a nasal fracture, more than likely, and was having trouble keeping his balance. Nausea, too, if he had to guess from the pallor.

He came from a fighting family. He knew what the hell he was looking at. This man had befriended him before they'd even known one another to pursue the same... well, similar goals. The oldest bond here.

If he was out of commission, Rudolf worried he'd have no last redoubt to fall back to, should things turn out for the worst. Robin's mind was clearly made up firmly, for instance...

If she could summon that steel and conviction, did he see in it any lie? Any room for flexion, letting something that rhymed with what Valheim had been doing pass?

No.

The tall tricorn hat floated down to settle atop Esben's brow and orbitals, a mop of pale hair freed from beneath upon the vagrant that had cast it over.

"Better keep the light off you. Got your bell rung pretty good, huh?"

There wasn't going to be any room at all, not when that vow was what was keeping your courage alive.

"Ah---"

She'd been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't quite noticed the state that one of their own was in. Esben quite clearly had a concussion, among other things.

Robin cleared her throat and stepped closer, opening her pouch and taking out a small bundle of cloth bandages. It was mostly meant to stop bleeding in an emergency, but at the moment it was both soft and thick enough to serve as a temporary pillow.

Kneeling beside him, she gently lifted his head and put the bundle beneath it.

"Rest up and relax, and you should be fine with a little time! Ah, and Lady Miina's assistance."

"Mmm... sh-should've used ice. C-Can't fight with all your m-muscles shredded…" But maybe then her strike would have lacked penetration? No way for her to ever go back and check, she supposed. Just better to go with her one real trick against an enemy like this.

…

Why was everyone always going off before she was done healing them? Did she need to add some sort of paralytic to her healing repertoire? She could probably find something when passing through home in future, or maybe just try to replicate the effect magically. Then people would stay put and she wouldn't have to deal with one person still suffering from a concussion and Rudolf going off with a leg that could easily get hurt again if they were ambushed.

Well, once again the head injury took priority, so just kneel next to him and get to work.

Right, right, first: cooling, Esben hadn't taken the heat well, and it wasn't even too hard when focusing on only the area of one person. Then... back to healing. If they were attacked she'd have to fall back entirely on her sword skills… maybe she needed to ask for lessons if this journey had time?

Led by Eve, Goug eventually made his way back to the Kirins, grumbling in both irritation and concern the whole while.

"Ack, couldn't have saved me some strain on the ol' heart, kupo? Thought I was gonna have to find me way back to Edren on my kupoin' own for a moment there."

Unable to travel too much farther for the day, the battered and exhausted Kirins made camp on the dunes.

When sunset came, Izayoi cleared her throat to get the party's attention before beginning to speak.

"I said I would explain, and I shall. That foe we faced used the corpse of the man who taught me the sword. And his skills, somehow. I am not so blind as to not recognize my own sword style, especially when used by the one who taught me to do so. The one I killed."



Izayoi refused to say anything further on the matter after that, turning in early for the night with nary another word.

___

Days later, with little else in the way of options, the party returned to Kugane for the moment to regroup, recover, and plan their next move. With Ciradyl and Chisaki's aid, they made their way past the Valheimr checkpoints once more and met up with Hien in a different safehouse, this time in the western section of the city.

One summary of what they learned later, and Hien groaned to himself, holding his head in one hand as the other rapped his knuckles against the low table they all sat around.

"This is...a bit much to take in. However, I trust your word, especially that of Izayoi and Lady Ciradyl. I'll admit, I would have liked to employ your collective services for longer. But I've no hold over any of the lot of you." He rolled a map of the continent out across the table, pondering.

"I'll be frank: Edren is less of a going concern than the other two nations. It still bears strong leadership and signifcant military force.
Drana Asnaeu's ability to withstand a full-scale invasion in search of its crystal is my foremost worry regarding this scenario. Were I the one looking in on the opposite end of this situation, it would almost certainly be my next target. Unfortunately, reports from my informants say Valheim's been reinforcing the southwest border for weeks now. You'll not be able to get ahead of them on foot, and we've little access to ships. What captains are in our pocket are already occupied with missions of their own and, hm..." He paused, rubbing his chin.

"Give me a day or two to make some inquiries. In the meantime, the lockdown around the city has eased up, and Reisa herself has been reported to have left Kugane for the moment. Take some rest, you all have more than earned it."

Reunited with their transport and supplies plus considering how spent most of the party were, the decision to make camp was pretty much unanimously supported.

As usual since the beginning of their foray into the harsh dunes, Eve pretty much relegated herself to provide overwatch for the party, being one of the few squadmates still relatively fresh and also the only one not needing regular intakes of food, water, nor sleep, it was the most pragmatically sound decision. All she needed was a potion of liquefied ether in one hand and she was good to go at it until whenever they were ready to depart.

Still, she could lend an earhole when Izayoi deemed it appropriate to finally share her history with the man whose body became the Revenant.

"..." The Pseudolon listened to the recollection from start to finish, her first immediate reaction was having the urge to call the Master as foolish for throwing his life away like that, but then... Eve realized that for years now, she had sought to end her own twisted existence, preferably in battle, just like... him. "..." It was only recently, after her comrades and Cid, that she began to reconsider, that there was more to life than just being a weapon.

After all, wasn't this why her mother sacrificed herself...?

I'm sorry, mama...


Back at Osprey's capital, Eve attended the meeting along with everyone else. It seemed more like a debriefing than anything else, Hien even already knew what'd be their next move. For now, the team deserved some rest after the voyage, might as well considering he'd take a day or two to make his correspondence.

Fair enough, rest they would.


"DAMN THAT ROTTING, WALKING CORPSE!" One Director Hojo screamed into a holographic display as he pounded his fist onto the poor armrest of his seat, "That was close, too close, you big, mindless oaf! I knew that project was a mistake, toying with cadavers, pfah!"

Beside him, another - lower-ranking - scientist couldn't help but get curious. The display was showing an airship recording of what appeared to be Project Revenant engaged with Team Kirin, the people responsible for Hien's escape and Proudclad's destruction, the one with the rogue Project Grayscale. "Uh, Director, if I may speak frankly... why do you seem upset that our side holds the advantage?"

Hojo abruptly turned his wrinkled visage at the younger researcher, incredulity palpable in his gaze, "No, no, no, you don't understand, you don't understand at all! The point is to let Grayscale grow, blossom into the Dragon Queen she's destined to be!" He ranted, "That so-called 'Project Revenant' is an evolutionary dead end, it's nothing but recycled pieces of crap; it can not grow, it can not evolve, it's stuck as it is, worse, it'll eventually decay! Such is the pointlessness of dabbling with undeath!"

The Valheimr youth gulped, both awed and intimidated by the senior scientist's... passion, "W-well, be that as it may, Director... Grayscale has proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that she's our enemy now, look at what she did to Proudcla-"

"Foolish boy!" Only for Hojo to firmly interrupt him, "Sacrifices are necessary for progress, and can't you see? Precious... precious Grayscale is mine, she has always been mine, she has never not be mine!" He chuckled, narrowing his eyes in such an unnerving manner, it sent chills down the assistant's spine.

"She just doesn't know it yet..."

---

Early during their return trip to Kugane, before the dawn of the second day even, still with the reigning night sky and chill evening desert air fanning the dunes, a certain swordsman would find his sleep disturbed, that certain unease you'd get from being watched... and that was quite saying something considering he always had his plus one with him.

Upon opening his eyelids, the young lad would find a pair of reptilian, slitted red eyes staring down at him directly from above. From this angle and due to the dim ambience of the campfire, said eyes looked almost vividly, violently crimson. Yet, there was something familiar about them, they didn't belong to a blight beast, a monster yes, but one of his allies regardless, though from how fiercely they were staring at him, no one could blame him if he reacted with hostility.

“!!”

And just as well they didn’t, for when his blearily opening eyes first took in the twin disks of crimson and the enshadowed frame looming over him, eyes catching the vivid starlight overhead and burning with it, Rudolf had fairly leapt right out of his damned skin. For five years, he’d been a chronically light sleeper, plagued by unease in his resting hours—

A point of silver gleamed in the moonlight, a scant few inches away from the Pseudolon’s nose.

—And his adopted home had a tradition of keeping at least one blade on their person, always, even asleep. Of them all, this he’d taken most readily to that. And it wasn’t until that surge of panic faded, consequently, that his shoulders slackened, and he drew the knife back with a sigh as he recognized the placid expression upon which that burning gaze belonged. His own had been a tight snarl with desperate, wide eyes before the waking mind had taken back over— wary, spooked, and cornered all in less than a blink.

Even while supposedly unconscious, some individuals seemed to have this... sense, this figurative watchdog that'd shake them awake if they feel they're being watched, the more guarded a person was, the more keen they became. That was good to know, sleep is such a vulnerable phase in one's day after all, this was one of the things she wouldn't want to have even if she was a normal Sollan.

The shorter-yet-significantly-older of the white-haired duo was unfazed by Rudolf's reflexive response, common as it was for warriors to always have a weapon within arms reach, especially when sleeping in the wilderness.

“...Eve, hey.” he spoke breathlessly, slumping back onto his hindquarters. This was a bolt of a shame— for all he’d been looking over his shoulder at the Kirins after the tangle with Izayoi’s resurrected Master, his sleep had been… deeper, or maybe sounder, while the passenger within his spirit was in its own right seemingly dormant. “Mothercrystal, you scared me half to death.” For once, he’d had a few less tumultuous nights, less tired mornings.

"I apologize." She responded with all the stoicism that only a few could muster.

“You need something? Hear a weird noise out there? Diiid, uh,”

At that, Eve subtly yet visibly shook her head, "No Blight Beasts incursion yet."

“Yet”.

It seemed that streak ended here.

He made a show of rubbing his brow, as though to scrub away syncope. He didn’t like that the Kirins’ out-and-out Mage, most inherently connected to the arcane, was the one to wake him in the dead of knight by looming overhead and thinking Etro-Knew-What behind that unreadable look she’d painted upon him. She’d also been the one that had spoken the most with Cid, done the work in getting information out of the venerable holy man, while they were all licking their wounds.

His words were gonna be fresh in her mind, more than anyone else’s besides Rudi’s own.

He yawned, blinking slowly as he looked her way again. You just woke up, so playing dumb is the move anyway.

“Did I forget the watch rotation, am I up?”

"There's no need for mandatory watch rotations with me around." Again, she replied with an inarguable and pragmatically sound fact.

”What, so you watch us sleep?” he shot back, trying to regain momentum from the misstep. She knew. They both did. It’d take more than schoolyard shit to throw her off.

An awkward and tense silence began to brew between them...

"What haven't you been telling us, Rudolf?" Until she broke it with an inquiry that couldn't be mistaken as anything but interrogating.

”My life story. What my taste in women is. My favorite food. Lots of things. None of them are harmful to the mission.”

He held her gaze. The list was true. The structure was flippant. His tone, though, couldn’t help but begin to tighten. This showed too in his posture, growing more and more guarded with each second.

With each of those - she knew that he knew - irrelevant things he listed out, the more affirmed Eve became that something was up. Really, that display of Blight-esque power he wielded against the Revenant was proof enough, everything else was simply more evidence to support the conviction.

...now all she needed was a confession.

He wasn’t ready. Not here, not now, not yet. He could feel it locking his heart up, twisting his thoughts.

"False." Eve cut him off, whether he was done speaking or not, "At least one of them are potentially harmful to the mission... to the world." Her cold, emotionless tone harkened back to the Eve the party once knew, before Kugane, before Atsu, back when they were still practically strangers.

The swordsman was on the back foot, but wasn’t willing to give any ground she wasn’t working for. Nothing for free. His gaze warned her of that much.

In his mind, he desperately fought to find a way out of this immediate hole, while his mouth tried to buy time.

"I've been nothing but truthful about how I came to be and where my allegiance lies, can you say the same, 'Rudolf'?" If it was indeed his real name. "What are you?"

Blight. She’d made the damned connection. He was sure of it.

”Sollan,” he fired back immediately. ”Sollan to the bone. And Rudolf is my name, ‘Eve’. Only worthwhile thing my Dad ever gave me.”

Dad.

Exile from the Shilage lands seemed a pittance, now. What the hell had he been moping about, when the next person to get an inkling of what he’d done took him for a potential Blight Bomb, about to go off in their midst?

Rudolf spitting back Eve’s mistrust about his name right back at her seemed to strike a nerve, "Eve was my mother's name, I took it as my own because I refuse to refer to myself using the moniker they gave me." Grayscale... implying she was nothing but a weapon to be wielded whenever convenient.

He winced.

His grip on the knife tightened. He wasn’t gonna point it at her again, not unless she forced him.

But the tremble in his hands told more of the story, that which he couldn’t bear to consider.

”I came to save my country from the evil that besets us. I have a duty to the people of Edren. I’ve never lied about that.”

What if she was right?

What if he was just a matter of time?

"... ... ..."

”Just put it away, Eve—”

ZAP!!

A point of light, a screaming danger sense, and a sudden leap to the side.

Without warning, a small bolt of lightning grazed far too close against the side of Rudolf's scalp, singing a few locks of gray-white hair. In front of him, he could see the Pseudolon thrusting her pointer and middle fingers at his head, her hand poised like a pistol, arcane sparks whipping the air around said extremities.

That was her answer to all the pointless beating around the bush.

"The next one won't miss." She forwarded her ultimatum, "Tell me about the evil within you... or don't, I'm sure it'll protect you just as it did against the Revenant's blade, no?" The sparks at her fingertips intensified, "Either way, I'll get the truth out of you."

Scary! What the hell, this was so scary! She’d kill him! She’d kill him now or kill him as soon as she found out! To think he was worried about Robin! Now he knew why so many people didn’t follow in Galahad’s footsteps!

”Are you insane?!” he hissed, knife now aloft in a guarded position as he gauged distances— between himself and her, between himself and past her, between her crackling fingertip and the metal in his grip. ”Throwing around magic like that in camp, what if you’d hit someone like Izayoi?! You’d get everyone killed!”

"I am a monster." She confirmed, "As you've witnessed yourself, I hold the power to destroy battleships, do you really think this little magic is beyond my control?" If his aim was to throw her off, he'd have to do better than questioning her spellcasting, it'd be as effective as doubting Izayoi's swordsmanship. This meant he was desperate... good, the truth was close.

“Power and control are very different.” She was just gonna flat out ignore how many people they were right on top of, then. That level of confidence he had no choice but to believe… but still, if he dodged her and somebody else was in his wake, this would be dangerous for more people than just the two of them, very quickly.

His swords weren’t far. Just a few strides away…

And then what?

Cutting her down was out of the question for all sorts of reasons, but…

No, if he had to protect herself, with them he felt safest. That was it.

”Look, I don’t want anyone getting hurt, Eve… Last Valheimr to point a gun at my head didn’t have great luck with that.” he warned, in the tone of a man faced with a snarling hound. He had to set her off-balance for just a moment, throw the ball back in her court, and pull this back somewhere safe. He needed to get initiative back, if he wanted to make it outta here alive.

"This isn't a gun." She deflected the warning with all the ambiguity of someone who was either dense or confident, "If you don't want to hurt anyone, then tell us the truth, Rudolf." He was a wounded close combatant, she was a fresh ranged spellcaster; it wasn't even a contest, she had the high ground. "Despise me all you want, but they deserve the truth."

He circled, one gingerly made step at a time. He’d caught the glance down at his right leg. Brief, but there— She didn’t seem to know the full extent to which he’d healed. Moreover, she didn’t seem to be thinking about just how quickly he might be able to close the gap.

Please, Eve. He didn’t want to have to take advantage of that. But these were the only thoughts he could even keep straight anymore. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff.

He held the knife aloft, letting it catch the moon, letting it catch her eyes. Even she couldn’t escape the tendency to want to track a bared edge of steel, right? He swung it wide, in a slow arc, away from him.

Her eyes might instinctively follow the knife for a brief moment, but the Pseudolon's "finger gun" kept its aim trained on the monster hunter even as he began taking steps around her. Being a creature of primal ether - artificial she might be - she lived and breathed off magic, thus unlike most mages, incantations were more of a ritual to help her muster focus rather than a mandatory part of the spellcasting process.
She had her Thundaga bolt primed and ready, she'd just need to pull the trigger...

“It’s not about me despising you, Eve.” he intoned ruefully. ”You scare me, but I don’t hate you. Please.”

Please.

"Tell me something I'm not yet familiar with." Being feared? The half-dragon mage was more than well used to it, "But I assure you, the feeling is mutual." Most certainly since Svalinn's reveal.

He flinched, but struggled forward.

”I’ve already lost one life to this thing. I’m not gonna get thrown outta another. Can’t saving Izayoi be proof enough I don’t mean harm?”

One step away. Any false moves, and he was diving for them.

He’d figure it out afterward.

"... ... ..." So it wasn't new, Rudolf had been hosting that 'thing' for gods know how long, long enough to get him exiled.

“I promise, there’s no upside to digging this up unless… you already want me gone. What do you know? Maybe I’m way behind.”

He should have done this part much, much earlier, admittedly— but he needed to see what cards she held. He’d spent this whole exchange playing catch-up.

Her brows frowned deeply at the Sollan's sheer stubbornness, not even Esben was this secretive about his past, and the man's a spy, "I'll be the judge of that." She sighed harshly, "Whatever power you conjured back then, it felt... wrong. I'm no true Eidolon, but that part of me felt revulsion as if I was bearing witness to a spreading disease, the planet's disease, ...the Blight." She let her words hang in the air, then continued before he could respond.

His eyes tightened.

"...I'm not mistaken, am I? You're hosting some kind of Blightborne entity, that's the only possible conclusion behind your unflinching refusal to tell the truth, even in the face of certain death, your silence serves as confession enough." She wasn't finished, "However... the High Caretaker didn't smite you on sight, he even let you bring that thing into Etro's sacred grounds, so... there may still be hope for you yet. Please tell me it's true." So she wouldn't have to euthanize him right here and now.

“…There has to be.”

He seemed to slack before her, all but ready to crumple with relief. It was hard to tell who between the two of them he was making this reaffirmation to.

Safe, only by a hair’s thread.

But she was right. There had been something in that look Cid had given him back there, something he couldn’t interpret.

Pity?

Regret?

Sorrow, maybe?

But whatever it was, it hadn’t been hostile. And Rudolf was now sure that it had meant he’d known, the whole time. And as she’d said, he hadn’t had Ifrit dropped on his dome.

He had to hold onto that.

If he didn’t, then…

”So long as my mind’s still my own, there has to be.”

Leather creaked, deafening in the silence of the dunes where it would be inaudible anywhere else. His eyes had left the tiny pseudolon now. Instead, the holes they stared bore down upon the knife in his hands, in the white, shaking knuckles of his grip.

From here, while Eve seemed to want a way out of having to commit to roasting him like an autumn goose, he could at least bargain the value of sile—

”I… I don’t know if it’s Blight specifically.”

Each breath shook, but the words came.

What the hell was he doing?

”And I can’t exactly ask right now, either way.”

What happened to giving nothing away?

”This has been with me for five years. It’s never tried to spread. If nothing else, I’m pretty sure it’s at least disconnected from Valheim’s incursions. They’ve never recognized him as… like them.”

Incredible. He was chickening out of chickening out.

Pathetic…

"... ... ..." Though her thunderarm was still cocked and ready, there seemed to be little indication that she'd actually pull the trigger, and the possibility only grew less and less as Rudolf finally saw sense and stopped beating around the bush.

He was on his haunches now, and felt like five measures of his own weight were dragging him into the sand. Exhausted. With the fading adrenaline, he became aware again of every last bit of him that had been through the wringer.

Five years of checking his own shadow for a trap. Five years of carefully minding everything he let slip into the world. Five years of pretending to be little more than a common-born swordsman, building lies upon lies to live through.

And now, he couldn’t even choose between giving away the game or committing to it. Right to the end, he second-guessed every move.

How could he save the world? He felt sick.

”Is that enough for you?”

The coward, finally, met the wyrmspawn’s eyes again. With them, his soul pleaded that she relent, even knowing she had every right not to. They all had a right to.

His brothers would have laid it all out for everyone right from the gate. They would have done everything right. They stood tall. Honorable by every measure.

Honor’s the refuge of the strong.

He was not of their cloth.

This was all he could handle.

Eve listened to his story, everything, pauses and all, from beginning to end...

"Haaa...."

...then let her primed spell fizzle out, sighing heavily as if she had just gone through a life-and-death situation. "There... may be more about the Blight than what even Cid knew." The white-haired mage murmured, she wanted to have something vouching for Rudolf's innocence. "Maybe it has always been there, like shadow to light, only the Mothercrystal's shine kept it at bay, but now, with the glow snuffed..."

She paused, closed her eyes, then subtly gritted her teeth, enough crafting theories for now. She had gotten what she came for, "We'll find a way to purify the world of this taint, including the one within you." With that, she turned away, then sat back down on the dunes, this time decidedly not staring down at another sleeping party member.

”I hope you’re right. I really, really do.”

Imir, Ithar, if you can hear either of us…

The dull fwmph from behind heralded the young man finally fully collapsing onto his back, utterly spent. The knife in his hand rolled free, thankfully still on the sands, and his eyes were drawn up.

Above him, there was no black void, as the night he’d been thrown out like trash, his first when truly alone, had been. Clouds couldn’t survive here.

The truth of what lie above them, where so many seers of before had seen fate writ large, was bared to all.

Out in this sea of sand, in a land so far away from any home he’d known… the stars were painted with dizzying brilliance. More than he dared count, enough to drown out even the Constellations he’d learned to name. A thousand-thousand diamonds, tiny points of light that massed to color the night from black to blue, yellow, even pink— the great band that stretched across the heavens, said in some lands to be the arm of Danube herself, packed them together so tightly they almost outshone the moon. At it he stared.

Within that enormous current, that coalescence, was said to be the flow of everyone’s fate. That fate which they now were supposed to be fighting for. Ten tiny souls, be they dimmed or polished to the brightest luster. Faced with that, he was barely more significant than… any one of these grains of sand. Such enormity could crush him. What was his life? What could he really do? What could any of them?

He stared.

…Every point of light singing in this chorus would be drowned by the dark on its own, a lone voice awash in silence. Gathered together, they created a vast, beautiful symphony, pushing back against the night. They sang of life, of truth, of destiny.

Collecting those motes of light together… could make something like this. Beyond the grasp of any man or woman, yet all the same threatened by their foes.

He reached high, with his hand now free, and saw it too be lost against the immense, vivid backdrop.

Was his fate still in there?

What about hers, somebody born under those circumstances, rather than choosing the darker path?

…

Would this feel quite so insurmountably massive, if he could be sure it was?

…

He stared. For a while, they shared the silence, neither looking at the other, neither comfortable nor hostile. Until…

“... I’m sorry, Eve. You’re right that they deserve to know, but… I’m not ready to say it yet. I wasn’t even ready to tell you this much.”

”...” She was silent at first, each trickle of the hourglass’ sand felt like an eternity in its own, yet through the silence, Rudolf could sense that her earless ears were listening.

The pause hung in the air. Hadn’t they put each other through enough for one night?

“Could I ask you to keep it quiet, unless you’ve got no choice?”

His only reply would be a minute shift of draconic red eyes, followed by a barely perceptible nod, but twas’ a gesture that conveyed more than a thousand words could.

---

The trip back to Kugane passed rather uneventfully—almost pleasantly, if it weren’t for the amount that some of the Kirins were worrying over Esben along the way. There was something comforting about it, knowing that the motley assortment could come together so easily...but it was more than a little annoying as well. Enough so to surpass any bother over his nose, which he’d have to have properly set and fixed in the city.

For a man that prided himself on his capabilities, coming from being the one to devise the plan that freed Lord Hien only to find himself utterly disarmed by the climate and almost immediately knocked out of a fight was a shame that was nearly unbearable. No matter how much any of them had reminded him how close to death they all had come, and that the fact he didn’t find himself cleaved in half on the first strike despite being so incapacitated by the desert was a strong mark in his favour.

His nose twitched in annoyance, and he immediately brought a hand up to it; while the swelling may have subsided fairly quickly, it was still very recognizably broken. Hopefully it hadn’t begun healing enough that he’d have to have it re-broken just to get anything done.

”Terrible,” he mumbled to himself, taking a sip of water and looking up at the stars over the central courtyard. Many of them were beginning to fade, with sunrise not far away—the growing hint of light off to the east made that obvious enough. Still, it was early enough that none of the others were awake yet, only the various servants that had followed Ciradyl and Hien into rebellion as they quietly prepared breakfast for the estate and its guests.

Quietly enough—alongside the silence of the still-sleeping city—that the soft footfalls behind him didn’t manage to escape his notice: ”I hope you’re not trying to sneak up on me back there.”

As per usual, Eve was awake, she had always been awake outside of those rare occasions where she depleted her ether reserves, and taking night walks was one of her ways to pass the late evenings, or sit down and brood, but tonight, she was partial to the former.

As such, it was simply pure coincidence that her path crossed with the group's espionage specialist, though he made it seem like she was deliberately following him, flattering, but unfortunately untrue, this was a different situation than Atsu's, back there, she did tail Izayoi to her family's grave.

Although...

"You caught me." The Pseudolon uttered with such stoicism, it would indeed take someone as keen as Esben to discern whether she was being sarcastic or not, "I suppose this means you won't be my dinner tonight, shame, it has been a while since I hunted a Sollan."

Her red eyes then scanned over the Skaeler's visage, particularly the spot between his cheeks, "I find it difficult to believe that Miina hasn't fully healed your face yet." She was no healer though, maybe some things just couldn't be healed magically...?

”Mmm. Not as nice to look at now, am I?” Esben joked, one eyebrow raised as Eve studied his nasal fracture so intensely. He stoppered the bottle he’d been drinking from, setting it on the paving stones by his feet. The journal he’d been writing in snapped shut around his pencil, set next to him on the bench he’d pulled out into the courtyard.

"Wounded body parts are never as nice to behold as healthy ones." Eve spoke matter-of-factly, an objective statement based on practical knowledge and peer-reviewed scientific research no doubt.

After a moment to shrug at her reply he moved over slightly, making some room for Eve if she decided to sit. ”Bit late to be looking for dinner, though—if you’re looking for food as a novelty, you ought to start thinking about breakfast instead.” He glanced back at the slowly-brightening east. There was an hour left before sunrise and the morning meal, if he had to guess. ”One of the servants said they might have me try something called nattō, but wouldn’t actually explain what it is.” By his tone and his expression, he seemed mildly worried about that lack of information.

The scaled black mage simply stood beside the bench for the moment, up until Esben scooted over, a gesture of invitation she discerned, one that she took as Eve quietly sat down, her tail looping over to rest on her lap.

"Heh, maybe I will." She quipped back, following his gaze toward the dawning sun, "I don't know what that is either, Esben." It'd either be a pleasant surprise or a nasty prank, she supposed.

A momentary silence fell as the two enjoyed the slowly rising sun...

"I've decided..." Until Eve's soft voice gently shattered it, "...that I want to live." She paused, her words hanging in the air, "It's what mama sacrificed herself for."

That explained at least part of why she’d been even quieter than usual since they’d started on their ride back. Esben had had some inkling that she didn’t intend to survive her own private war against Valheim, even if she wasn’t quite as straightforward about it as Izayoi was with her particular death wish...the confirmation that he’d been right, and that she’d decided to change her goal from that, gave him a moment of pause.

Before his left hand rose, landing softly atop Eve’s head and ruffling her hair.

"Nnngh..." A soft groan that was somewhere between unamusement and annoyance left the dragoness' throat, she was being treated like an infant again, first by Galahad and now Esben. How uncouth, she was at least the same age or even older than he. Hmph.

”Good to hear!” he replied quietly. ”I was almost worried that wrangling the both of you would be too much, given everything that’s been going on lately.”

"Both..." She murmured as her mind referenced a certain Mystrel, "I see..." She pondered, "It appears that deathwishing is a core aspect of Ospreyan culture."

Speaking about culture, the black mage found her curiosity piqued, "Tell me about Skael, Esben."

”Mostly, it’s cold,” came the quick reply.

A silent pause afterwards; Esben was sure that wasn’t the answer Eve was looking for, but he was still happy to leave a moment for the bland statement to sink in. ”It depends a bit on where you are. Most of the places everybody knows about...they’re far enough south, and far enough inland, that the winter never really lets up. But the weather is harsh wherever you go. Thanks to it all, we spend most of our time inside, and are usually fairly...” He paused again, glancing meaningfully in the direction of Éliane’s room.

”Soft-spoken.”

The horned girl listened attentively to the spy's reminiscence of his homeland, confirming that Skael stayed true to its reputation as the place of eternal winter.

"..." The glance toward the salmon-haired military officer's abode was noted. Eliane was an exception that proves the rule indeed.

The words hung for a moment before he continued; ”Of course, Skaellers usually don’t talk so much in general. We’re both outliers, I suppose.” This time his silence lasted longer, his fingers—rather than continuing to test how long he could get away with messing with Eve’s hair—drumming softly on her head for a moment. He’d been away from home for quite a while, whether one took that to mean Skael in general or the specific place he hailed from.

Blank as his expression was, it was clear he was still thinking about something...before he yawned, and spoke again. ”But that’s based on a generalisation, anyways. It’s not all Solitude and the Garden, after all. That would be like assuming all of Osprey is just like Kugane.”

The fact these two were travelers of an otherwise isolationist society already hinted at them being the odds one out. Although, on another note, she noticed that Esben seemed content to use her scalp as an armrest. It was... peculiar, usually most people wouldn't like to be near, let alone touch her. But at this point, it was obvious that the Kirins weren't most people.

"That's fair." She concluded, then turned her gaze back at the rising sun, content to simply enjoy the quiet for now.

”What do you intend to do once we’re all done with this, with the new willingness to survive?” Esben asked, breaking the quiet once again. ”Travel around, or find some place to stay?”

The Faux Bahamut stayed silent for a few long seconds, out of a lack of a good answer more than anything. "I haven't thought about it yet, all I know is that I won't go out of my way to end myself once this is all over anymore." She paused once more, "I guess travelling around would be nice, helping good people and exterminating bad people as I go, like Robin.”

”Alone?”

"We’ll see. We’re not even sure if the world won’t end yet."

Esben sighed, his arm dropping back down. ”A little optimism doesn’t hurt,” he chided. ”Sometimes I worry I may never get to do anything but travel, even knowing that someday I won’t have a choice whether or not I go home.” Whether he had anything more to say about that topic, nothing more came out, replaced by another yawn instead.

And a jump from one topic to another.

”Do you ever actually sleep?” he asked, glancing back down towards Eve. ”Not just when you spend too much aether, and I know you don’t have to otherwise—but just slipping into a deeper rest, like when any of us take a nap beyond our normal sleep.”

She glanced in return toward Esben as well, mostly wondering just what kind of 'sleep' he meant here, because the easy answer would be yes, she had slept before. Fortunately, he clarified the exact definition he was hinting at, "I meditate sometimes, deeply enough that time seems to flow faster, that should count as a 'nap' I suppose."

Although speaking of sleep, "You've been yawning frequently, didn't sleep properly last night?" Might be due to all the injuries.

”Not whatsoever,” Esben replied. Unsurprising; with a broken nose obstructing his breathing, sleep would be coming less readily than usual. Though whether that was just due to the breathing or the brand new sound of light snoring, who could say? ”Do you dream?”

"During the few times where I exhausted myself enough to fall unconscious, I suppose..." Then her voice trailed off at the end, as if she had just recalled a crucial piece of information, but one she wasn't particularly fond of remembering, "...and during those times when they sealed me like a pickle in a jar."

”What sorts of dreams, then?”

"Wishful dreams for the most part, to be accepted, to be loved, to be... human." Eve murmured with the same wishfulness as those dreams. Her gaze descended down to stare at her knees, "...but I feel like two of those are being fulfilled, by all of you, including by someone whose life's work involves slaying dragons."

She sighed pleasantly and curled a small smile, "Then, what about you, Esben? Don't tell me you scheme and plan in your dreams too?"

...no answer.

She turned her gaze at him, finding the Skaeller agent sitting still with his eyes closed, prompting Eve to cast a little cantrip, conjuring a weak breeze to prod against his cheek... and like a rotten dead tree, the blonde's upper half fell sideways... and right onto her lap.

Asleep... She concurred, good, he needed the rest. Though she wished her talents included restorative magic to heal him as he slumbered, she supposed this would do instead of nothing. With a small, calm smile, Eve’s hand began methodically caressing his pale golden locks while her eyes closed as she fell into a meditative state, her 'nap'.

When Miina returned from hat shopping with Rudolf in the afternoon, she could find Izayoi in the safehouse's common room sitting at the table with needle and string, mending what seemed to be an extra pair tabi. Izayoi glanced up as Miina entered, offering her a brief nod before her gaze swept over the younger Mystrel. Her eyes narrowed.

"You've a hole in your coat. Right sleeve." One hand extended out. "Hand it over. I may as well mend it since I'm already here."

Miina blinked once, then twice, then looked down at her coat sleeve with a frown. A hole…? That was annoying, but it did sort of happen a lot… it was just a shame that she hadn't noticed it before putting the coat on. And she'd only just changed back from something more inconspicuous, too!

It did look like a spot she might've repaired at some point, too, so maybe it hadn't held as well as she had thought. She was definitely getting a lot of practice with an outfit that liked to get caught on things, so she was getting better…

Oh, answer. Answer. "Um… w-well… it's okay? I've g-got my own k-kit and…"

And had spent far too long making sure that she had managed to get matching thread to make any repairs blend in as much as possible.

Izayoi didn't let up on her stare. If anything, it grew slightly more forceful.

"I am here, and I am offering. If there is a concern, voice it." The "or else" in her tone didn't go vocalized, but was very heavily implied. "Otherwise, I see no issue in saving you the time when I'm already going through the effort at this very moment."

"S-S-Sorry!" Divesting herself of the coat as fast as possible, Miina nearly threw the coat at the older woman in panic. But if she did that to avoid making Izayoi angry at her, then she'd just make the samurai angry for certain and she just seemed so scary a lot of the time, especially given everything she had recently said about her teacher…

Since she didn't have any longstanding affection to call on, the girl instead went for the "don't antagonise her any more" approach, neatly folding the coat and presenting it with both hands. "I'm j-just used to d-doing everything myself if I c-can…"

It wasn't that she'd ever really had to, if there was something she couldn't do then she could just have… asked one of the other villagers; she'd pay back the favour some day. But she'd hated the asking.

Izayoi resisted the urge to sigh. It was like dealing with an exceedingly skittish mouse. She wasn't adept at dealing with this type of person at all. Nor had she really had to, for most of her life. Her experiences were with willing warriors. Most of the time, Lord Kaien had been the one to handle any sort of diplomacy. And before that, her master...who she'd been trying very hard to not think of for some time now. Damn it.

"And at the moment, you have no need to. Cease your apologies." Izayoi gave a resigned huff, taking the coat and looking for thread to match its color. "I assume you're of a tribe? Most of our kind I have met seem surprised when I state I never have been."

"Ah, umm… y-yeah, but it's not t-tthat surprising?" Miina said, looking around for another spot to sit in the room and then slumping into the seat, drawing the knife at her belt and starting to play with the slightly tattered wrapping around the handle. "I m-m-met a bunch in C-Costa del Sol who were born there… m-most knew what tribes their parents or g-grandparents came from, though. B-But I guess most of them could j-j-just ask, eh-heh…"

"Costa del Sol..." Izayoi ran the name through her mind as she picked out a suitably red shade of thread to mend Miina's coat with. "The seaside city? I see. Tell me," She started sewing, looping the thread into her needle and getting to work as she spoke. "Has there been any word of that brother of yours? I imagine you've not much reason to remain once there is. We've no such hold to press-gang you into our war."

The girl let out a sigh. Had there been word? Of course. But just enough to give her even less reason to leave this jaunt to save the world.

"Y-Yeah. Umm… it's a b-bit of a long s-story but I j-just missed him, he's headed b-back to Drana Asneau a few d-days ago, and he's p-probably keeping a low profile…" Or at least, that would be (and had been) her plan in a similar situation, though her issues had been a bit more… neutered. "S-So I won't be leaving! He m-might want to help when we do c-catch up."

Or at least help her, but she was sure he wouldn't be against preserving everything they knew and had seen.

"Back to Drana?" Izayoi quirked an eyebrow. "Would that not mean he would return home, then?" Thereby making Miina's entire quest pointless was the unspoken assumption within that question.

Miina shook her head. That wasn't allowed; he might go somewhere else but not home.

"Regardless, say we do find your brother. What would you do after, should he not join? Return home? Your talents have been useful thus far. Without you, I would be dead by now."

What would she do…? There wasn't much point finding where her village had gotten off to and going back while the Blight might destroy it all. And as meagre as her talents were, she was getting plenty of practice that would never have been an option if she'd stayed at home. Being praised for helping, even if it wasn't as impressive as proper healers… she also liked that, though she didn't want more opportunities if they could be avoided.

"I g-guess I'd stay with y-you. No p-point in trying to g-go home if it m-might be destroyed."

Izayoi nodded in satisfaction at the response as she continued to patch up the coat. Good. The party couldn't quite well afford to lose the only wielder of healing magics they possessed, no matter her esteem issues.

"Sensible. I won't have to try to convince you, then." She paused, questioning to herself how to word her next inquiry. Then she decided to just push through with it. Subtlety in wordplay was never one of her strengths. "Why are you stammering, anyhow? I've no intention of harming you, girl."

The girl slumped in her seat, mumbling an inaudible reply and playing more intently with the knife in her hands. No, that reply would never do. Another attempt. "I j-j-just do and always h-have. I c-c-can't m-make it stop."

And it only got worse when she was reminded of it and paying attention, tripping over her words more than usual all the while.

"I see." Was all Izayoi said after a moment. "Then I'll not press you further on the matter. Fortunate that my reputation doesn't precede me in this case, then. Dealing with fearful, slackjawed fools grows tiresome very quickly."

"Umm…" Well, she probably shouldn't admit that she thought Izayoi was scary because of her attitude and stories since they had met. Got to go with something safer. "I had n-never heard of you b-before."

It wasn't like a seaside resort got a lot of stories about old Ospreyan war heroes.

"And thank the gods for that." Izayoi replied resolutely. "Fame is far more of a hassle than what one would assume. It was one thing when I was only a barbarian that happened to be one of the greatest swordsmen in the nation. Both Ciradyl's people and Lord Hien's still believe I can turn this conflict in our favor. Against a foe greater than the one I'd already failed Osprey against." She smiled for once. It was a bitter, sardonic thing, completely insincere.

"They expect far too much of a broken widow past her prime."

"T-That's not true! E-Even working together, we weren't n-nearly as good at standing up t-to that thing," for perhaps the first time that day, Miina was looking directly at Izayoi. "And n-now we're going to p-protect the crystals, which needs more th-than just fighting…"

"S-So, you might be rusty n-now, and underequipped, b-but that doesn't mean you're past your prime, a-and the experience and new perspectives are m-more important than ever."

Izayoi's smile turned slightly less brittle and slightly more sincere at Miina's attempt to comfort her. Not that she quite believed the sentiment, but it would be somewhat cruel to outright reject it.

"Only so long as you keep that in mind for yourself. Unlike with me, you have little to nothing to be ashamed of. You are young yet, girl. More than enough time for these experiences to forge your strength and skill, magical or otherwise."

Her sewing finished, Izayoi handed Miina's coat back to its owner.

"Th-Thanks…" Miina took the coat gratefully, knife safely put away. Both for the repair and the vote of confidence… even if it seemed so misplaced. She might get better in future, but that didn't make her any more useful now.

And she still needed to work out how she was going to find her brother.

That evening, the smell of food cooking drew Rudolf to the safehouse's kitchen. One of Ciradyl's staff, moved over from the previous safehouse, walked hurriedly away from the kitchen, murmuring apologies towards whoever was inside.

Upon peeking in, Rudolf would behold a strange sight to his eyes: Izayoi manning the stove, an apron laid over her usual kimono as she simmered fish in a saucepan. She glanced up upon hearing footsteps, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem? I requested that the previous occupant vacate the kitchen." A beat. "Are you hungry? I'm making several portions."

For his part, the young man took a moment to blink, as he reconciled the scene before him with a few expectations that had just died. Of all their number that might have been crowding the staff out the kitchens, he had to admit he'd not expected her, even after beginning to learn of the woman behind the legend properly.

"Ah, no, none. I just..." his hands raised high in surrender, as the savory odor continued to pull a void in his stomach closer to the forefront of his attention. "I guess I didn't expect to see you back here."

Even if he'd denied his appetite, after the days of travel they'd taken in returning to Kugane he could tell the lie would have soon been revealed once that empty stomach became vocal. So instead, he stepped through the partition, and rolled up his sleeves.

"If you're making a lot, is there anything left you could use a hand on?"

Izayoi resisted the urge to give the boy an exasperated look at his obvious surprise upon seeing her within the kitchen. What did the Edrenians think, that she feasted on the blood of the fallen?

"Surely this can't come as too much of a surprise." She groused as she checked the fish. "Someone had to keep my family fed, and my husband, gods bless him, was useless in the kitchen." Izayoi moved on to the soup, waving Rudolf off.

"Go, sit. I'm nearly finished here as it is."

"Be that as it may, this has been a long journey back for all of us." the young man offered quickly in reply, clearly electing not to force his way into whatever workflow she had left. At certain times, the greatest virtue to offer was in accepting generosity, rather than demanding parity in every moment. "Etro knows, if any of us are due for a rest rather than taking on another task, you'd be high on the list. Things were definitely touch-and-go."

He made an effort not to unintentionally take a patronizing tone on the subject-- honestly, even he might have begrudged it, were the positions reversed. Few things grinded at the gears more than being considered, even remotely, as "fragile" to those that lived by the sword.

He pulled a nearby stool free, and sat on his haunches with crossed arms.

"Being too injured to fight and too injured to perform menial tasks are two entirely separate afflictions." Izayoi retorted, giving the miso a brief taste before nodding in satisfaction. She quickly plated up two portions of rice, miso, and simmered mackerel onto individual trays before carrying them over towards the small kitchen table.

"Eat. I will leave the remainder for those who are currently absent." She took a pair of chopsticks and began to dig into her own meal rather noisily. Evidently, table manners were something that had never quite stuck with her.

"Thank you."

In Rudolf's mind, there was a little more granularity than those two options, but he wasn't about to get bogged down in it. Instead, he offered a silent word of prayer in thanks, took up his chopsticks, and began to eat as well.

Perhaps ironically, the young man claiming to hail from a hard-nosed warrior village ate almost elegantly by comparison, systematic and precise as his utensils cut through and portioned simmered fish into bite-sized chunks.

"This is good," he said between mouthfuls, appreciative smile on his face. "Really good. Where I'm from much starker flavors are customary, but this is a really nice balance. Gentle, almost."

The slow-simmered mackerel's savory-sweet flesh, with the salty tang of the miso coating both fish and rice, was a far cry from the Sagramori and Shilagean shared fondness for pickled and spiced meats, drowning in invigorating brine, cayenne, and at times char. A warm hug as opposed to a slap on the back.

Another bit of light shed upon her, that burned away what he'd believed of a spectre before they met. A warrior of her skill and renown, surely, would have eaten food that was supposed to make you strong. Right?

He had to admit, his curiosity was piqued now, and everything he learned about the woman before him seemed to make her a little less scary and a little more real. Had he not been paying attention to them, he wondered if he would have acted so swiftly, there on the dunes.

"What kind of useless in the kitchen was he?" he asked, after swallowing the last of the fish.

Would he have still done the right thing, were he still terrified?

Chefs were often their own worst critics. Izayoi was no different. Even as Rudolf praised her cooking, she compared the flavor in her mind to previous examples of her food, to say nothing of the same dish she'd sampled from other venues.

The verdict was poor. Six months of no practice resulted in slight overcooking. The texture was just a tad dry, and she'd used too much water with the rice. Mushier than it should have been. Izayoi frowned as she ripped through her meal nonetheless.

Rudolf's inquiry brought her thoughts back to her immediate surroundings, and she raised her head.

"I asked Isshin to prepare rice but once, on a day where he had no house calls and I went to fish." She reminisced wistfully, lips quirking ever so slightly upward in spite of herself. "I returned to witness him scraping burnt rice out of the pot somehow. Foolish man. Before we wed, he largely subsided off eating from the village inn's kitchen." She raised her soup bowl to her lips, taking a brief sip before explaining. "My husband was the village doctor. Without him discovering me on Atsu's outskirts, my death on the mountain five years ago would have been one in truth."

"I'll admit, its falsehood was a hell of a shock." he joked.

Similarly, he brought the bowl to his lips, but paused before the liquid could reach them as a detail stood out in his mind.

Atsu. A village at the foot of the mountains separating Edrenian Midgar and Ospreyan Aitsuragi. Close enough to have seen a village doctor discover the bloodied, beaten, and broken war hero before her final stand had claimed her, and return her to health.

One that Valheim would return to, six months before now, and burn to a crisp. Searching for her, last known to be in the area, and by happenstance just up the mountain, searching for medicinal herbs. Raze it and rend it to the earth... including one such inn, big enough for two bumbling foreigners to accidentally fall down a wine cellar, just a few weeks ago, when Valheim came to sweep the area once more.

He set the bowl down, and looked at the wistful samurai before him... No, at the widow, fondly tending to the old flame in her breast. The small, all too rare smile on her face— maybe the last she had left to indulge. He knew this look, all too well.

She was there again, for a moment. Memories of simpler, fonder times, transporting her back to a moment that could coax a grin out from behind even her stern scowl.

He wanted to ask, to confirm the sudden deduction, to apologize his tresspassing even, but seeing that...

"Still, for as confidently as word of your death was spread, he must have been a superb healer." he continued after the beat, fishing for any straggling clumbs of rice with his chopsticks idly.

He couldn't. He wouldn't dare bring Valheim back into the picture, not when this talk afforded her some form of respite from its long shadow. He didn't have the heart to rip it away from another.

"He was." Izayoi confirmed, still practically somewhere else at the moment.

"Isshin received his education in Kugane. Atsu was his hometwon. He'd returned to the countryside upon tiring of city life and lacking the funds to establish his own practice within the capital."

Five years passed in her eyes in a blink. Five years of peace, joy, love, all gone in one afternoon. Izayoi took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing herself back into the present. Focusing on what was in front of her would center herself. She resumed her meal, occasionally looking up out of the corner of her eye.

The boy was oddly well-mannered in terms of handling chopsticks and eating, especially for an Edreni. Especially for an Edreni monster hunting vagrant. She hadn't seen table manners like this outside of samurai that weren't upjumped peasants like herself.

Finishing her soup, Izayoi studied Rudolf intently for a moment, suspicion in her gaze.

He nodded along with her as she spoke, content he'd made the right choice. For someone who wore tension around her like a second layer of her robes, he had no way of knowing what kind of good the trip down memory lane had done in truth— But at the very least, when it ended, it was on her terms, set aside with a calming breath instead of snarl or spittle.

For someone like him, even doing that much exceeded par.

"Well, I understand it isn't my place to say, but..."

He studied the liquid in the bowl for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully in paying respects.

"Even if he couldn't find funding, I think it's a good thing he found y—"

As he looked up, he found himself under the microscope in a way he had forgotten to be ready for. Her piercing gaze had returned to her in the wake of her reminiscence, and she'd quite squarely turned it onto him.

What happened? Why's she staring? I got carried away, didn't I? What do I know, I'm the child of her enemies back then. I shouldn't have said that. Am I gonna die?

He tracked her gaze closer, finding it locked to his right hand at certain moment— and glanced between her and the chopsticks about three distinct times to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

"Oh. Uh... Am I holding these weird? I tried to copy you and Ciradyl's grips mostly..."

Izayoi continued to subject Rudolf to her unwavering stare for several moments before she deigned to speak.

"You are surprisingly well-mannered at the dinner table for a mere monster hunter." The samurai said simply before returning to her meal. Once she finished the last few bites of her mackerel, she continued.

"One would almost think you were raised with, or at least trained in noble manners as I was." She rose, starting to clear the kitchen table of both Rudolf's and her own plates and bowls. "Am I to assume you hail from a family of recently-disgraced knights or retainers?"

Crap.

He'd never needed to police this before now. So often, the roasted or grilled meats and vegetables from the village never really brought the old habits out of him, skewered and carved to be eaten by hand anyway. He'd not even thought of the way he ate to be something to draw anyone's notice. He'd already been burned, almost literally, once before by trying out his "playing dumb" card...

"I'd appreciate that, if I didn't feel like it's put me on trial." he began, before following up, probably a smidge too quickly, with "No, my family hasn't fallen from high standing or anything like that."

Much the opposite, as a matter of fact. Cutting off their disgraced excesses was sure to see them rise further. Not that the world knew of him. Last he'd heard from Earl Demet, the going story was that he'd fallen deathly ill, bedridden for five years straight by some plague brought home from the war.

"Sir Galahad mentioned this in brief when we first joined, but Sagramori're more than just monster hunters— that's simply the most common trade for our skills, especially with the onset of Blight."

He too rose, reaching for but being a little slow on the draw for his own plate.

"We're chiefly swordsmen. Midgari initiates often winter with us to embed within the crucible— others from the village have even risen from sellswords to peerage upon battlefield merit before. It's probably those nobler types that rubbed off on me." he half-explained, half-lied-by-omission.

It wasn't lost on him how close this story was to the truth of things, through the focus of a different lens. Hopefully, that'd serve to make it more believable than the opposite.

"I'm a skittish guy, really. Polite eating keeps people out of my face."

A beat.

"Usually."

"Hn." Was all Izayoi said in return, giving him one last hard stare before moving to set the used dishes aside and start plating the remainder of the food into lacquer boxes for the others. "Curious, how I've never seen or heard of your sword style during the war, then. Off with you, you've other things to be doing." She dismissed him brusquely, turning away.

---

“Ah, about that letter you sent last week…”

It had been a few days since their return to Kugane when the familiar face of one of Ciradyl’s aides caught Rudolf milling the halls, mostly aimless in the wake of puzzling over his swords once more for ninety minutes in the courtyard, much as he had two days prior before Miina had pulled him onto something actually productive. Coincidentally, the platinum blonde was actually wearing one of the spoils of that outing— a light brown tunic rather than his usual, comparatively stifling ensemble of red and black.

It, of course, only served to keep him cooler, rather than produce any windfall in unfucking the things. He really hoped he could return them to proper form once they hit a point to stop in Drana— his experience with Kurogane may have altogether been worthwhile in solving his biggest cruciform problem, but he remembered well that the old geezer held no love for the Edreni style of smithing.

“This arrived in the post early this morning. It matches up with what our contact was instructed to look for— no apparent forgeries on the seal.”

“Hmmm…” he took a quick perusal of the molded wax, before nodding his agreement with the assessment. “Yeah, this is it. Thanks. Sorry to impose on you guys like this.”

The seal of the Demet household he could find fault in with little more than a glance by now, even if he hadn’t specifically trained his eyes for it before the trek North began. For all the time he’d spent as more or less a burning dog (to be pet under no circumstances, per the Earl’s wisdom ensconced in grim metaphor) to have in court, instead rebirthing as “Sagramore” rather than “Shilage”, he had maintained a tradition of written correspondence with his master.

Longform squiredom. A blessing he would never forget. Had he not had the older man’s voice through the page, if not in his ear, guiding him, then…

He breathed deep, sliding the partition to his assigned room shut behind him. He made it here quickly, despite that he wasn’t certain whether or not there was much good to anticipate upon the text within.

Certainly, whatever his next update would entail, after all that their trek to the desert had revealed, he wasn’t looking forward to drafting.

He sat upon the tatami, pried a knife from his belt, and broke the seal with practiced ease.

Rudolf.

Mononym start.

“Oh no.”

I wish I could say I was surprised to hear the news of the king’s banquet corroborated by the words of your new allies, but I’m not. Leonhart did what he could to keep the entire affair under wraps, of course, but you know how word gets out. I couldn’t entirely believe it was as bad as was claimed without some first-hand accounts, or at least second-hand in this case.

Before I get to any of the rest, to set your mind at ease—I’ve kept things as quiet here as I can. Your father is still relying on that ‘plague brought back from the war’ story for now; the frailest of his children, inasmuch as any of you could truly be called frail, laid low by disease and kept sequestered from visitors and common folk alike. Ostensibly, I’m continuing my tutelage of you in those areas your father lacks experience over letters and packaged books. My idea; lies work best when couched within the truth. Most of what I send that way is just for István, of course.

Well. Some things just didn’t change. No surprise there. Perusing the words a couple more times certainly lent credence to the concept. Not like he expected any different anyway. A little surprising the old man didn’t just up and declare him dead, sparing himself the trouble with finality.

I’m working on a different idea on that front right now. I’ll let you know if I get any breakthroughs. The old cunt will still listen to me when it comes to this side of the business.

“We’ll see about that…” he muttered out of the side of his mouth, in spite of his absent audience. While it was true that the families’ long-held friendliness hadn’t waned in light of his exile, Rudolf knew better than anyone that his father could be stubborn as a cliffside, wearing down only over decades, over… so much less than this.

Given the nature of what he knew now of the Blight, and how it could have related, Rudolf was all too ready to accept that his father was more right than wrong in finally reaching the breaking point, where his towering rage made its way out from behind his stony old soldier bearing. It was bad enough that he’d contracted with a Shade in the first place.

He had known that Cadmon, surely, wouldn’t have told the man who had trained him what he’d sent his failure middle son out to do. He was by leagues sharper than that— But, as he’d written, confirmation was a comfort.

As for your current occupation: I tried to put some feelers out for the other teams Leonhart sent out, but the last that anybody seems to have heard of them was that they were all engaged fighting the Blight like those monster hunters I sent you to learn from. I don’t know that they’ve really made much, if any, progress on anything of real import, rather treating it like an extermination.

I’ll see what I can have found out about your current companions, although I already know I won’t be able to find anything concrete on that Valheimer girl you mentioned. Purely in respect for your wishes, I’ll refrain from going straight to the contacts I have at the university or in the church with the information, although if I were you, I would keep that one at arm’s length.

You have—at least, I hope you have—a decent head on your shoulders. You probably shouldn’t need that reminder or any others I can give, but as different as the two of you may be I can see the areas where you’re clearly your father’s son. As I’m sure you can understand, that gives me cause to worry given the nature of some of those you’re traveling with. One of your father’s primary targets during the war, the most decorated dragoon of his age, and a commander of Skael’s Household Guard? The only thing that might worry me more would be dropping you in a private meeting with Leo himself.

Setting the parchment down a moment, the young man took a few breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of the first missive he’d sent, that was the big question mark looming overhead— in combatting Valheimr and being in occupied Osprey at all, the resistance movement was more a foregone conclusion than anything else. “Enemy of my Enemy” and so on.

But the prestige and specific identities of the comrades he’d fallen in with, Izayoi especially, were a potential powder keg to relay. The fracas at Leonhart’s banquet revealing her to still draw breath was one thing, already noteworthy in a vacuum, but for him to be travelling alongside her daily had necessitated the most thorough profiling he could provide at that point to stave off immediate fear for his life. If, say, the Earl’s heir Wulfric had caught wind of her presence without it, Rudi was mildly sure this’d suddenly turn into a two-front war.

And cut the strength of our Skael border by a third…

That, mixed with Lord Galahad and Eliane’s backgrounds necessitating their potentially being informed about the rising star of the Shilage household (the former especially), and he’d be a fool not to see the unspoken point of contention. Already, Izayoi’s own suspicions were being raised by something as small as table manners— he’d only fended her off the trail by exhausting her will to keep driving onto the point. The house of cards would start wobbling, unless he really tightened his guard. Still, though, he had to admit, that could have gone far, far worse. This next one likely would.

Try not to be too prominent in what you’re doing for now. If that one you claim is a Seed—it at least sounds believable, if he did come up with that plan you told me about—is telling the truth, ask him and the other one from Skael for help on how to keep as under the radar as possible. News of what happened in Kugane reached here almost as soon as your letter did. Your father and I hope not to recognize you in any of the stories that get bandied about, because that will lead to unfortunate questions for the three of us, and I’m afraid I can’t manage damage control across two countries.

“...Ha. Haha. Hahaha. Hahahahaha.”
So, I’m definitely leaving out the fact that Valheim knows our faces, at least a little bit.

I’ve included a book on various enchantments, given what you told me of that smith’s findings on your sword. Maybe you can find something in there to break the seal, or perhaps something that will point you further in the right direction. Be careful with it, that was a wedding gift from that assassin your father and I used to travel with.

I won’t tell you to stay safe because that’s nonsense given what you’re doing, but try to keep your head attached. Wulfric is still unhappy that I sent you off and not him, and if news should come back that you’ve died I doubt I could keep him from grabbing your brothers and riding off to retrieve your corpse and take your place.

I never know how to end these damned missives, I prefer talking face to face. Write back to me at your earliest convenience.

—Demet

A deep, purging sigh escaped him, as he set the book aside and began to fish out his own writing utensils from where he’d left them, from the last communication he’d sent. Barely even a week, and he was now going to report on how thoroughly the entire game had flipped onto its head. He wasn’t looking forward to this at all, but if he put it off now that sentiment was gonna put him off it forever.

And then the rescue party really would come.

He had to rip the bandage. He had a duty, where the true nature of the Blight was concerned. Diligence, in the relaying of both the Kirins' and Valheim's movements, in exacting every quote he could dredge from both Cid's and Hien's tongues, within reason. And of course, the most terrifying element of all————————————————

He needed the wisest man he'd known to understand that his wayward, foolish squire, so carefully hiding for half a decade, had let that accursed black flame slip into the world. The worst case scenario had come to pass. Those same worrying companions, to a man, knew it was there. And it was only a matter of time before they all came asking like Eve.

Summoning his courage, his recollection, and his steadiest calligrapher’s hand, he began to put words back onto a new page.

Master,

Your message and tome have arrived in good condition, without trouble from my hosts as far as I know. Thank you, I will be sure to read it thoroughly. I’ve made sure to thank them for being so permissive in use of their channels, but should warn you that by the day of your receipt of this message I’m likely to be on the trail again. We’re set to make tracks for Drana Asnaeu. Much has been revealed in the past few days…

So… she needed to ask someone to come along, then. There was just no way that Miina, on her own, was going to be able to ask all the necessary questions for finding out where her brother had gotten to, and on top of that she’d gotten too much odd attention the last time that she went out trying to be inconspicuous. That meant she should ask somebody to come along with her.

Izayoi or Ciradyl knew Osprey the best, but were too well known and likely to attract attention. Of the others, Eve also stuck out too much despite being nice and having an interesting tail, so she was out. Robin and Eliane didn’t seem to know what subtle meant, so they would be bad choices. Of the others… well, Esben was probably the best choice for gathering information but that made him a bit scary and he should keep taking it easy.

In the end, Rudolf was the one person that seemed like they might be helpful while also being someone she’d had more than a completely fleeting interaction with recently.

Not that this made it easy to approach, dressed in her non-fancy outfit and giving up on trying to work out how to say hello in favour of just tugging on his sleeve like a child. “Umm…”

“What’s up, Miina?”

Rudolf, for his part, had taken to the garden on the interior of their safehouse compound, using the sunlight to puzzle over his paired swords as they laid before him on the soft grass, flanked at either side by scattered tools for upkeep, repair, and generally not problems like the ones that actually plagued them by the time the Kirin’s had left the desert. Fittingly, he looked close to stumped on the question, the both returned to their sheaths by the time Miina had made herself known.

The young Mystrel and equally-young Sollan were both by nature quiet sorts. He didn’t think they’d exchanged more than maybe three words before everything on the dunes had gone down— but from what little they had spoken, Rudolf didn’t read her as a bad sort. Earnest. Awkward. Humble. Courageous when she needed to be, given how she’d rolled with the snap-judgement tactics he’d dropped on her and Robin despite technically being put in the most danger. Liked her chests big, and, you know, who among us?

He frowned, scratching that last one off the mental list. Rude. Do not bring that up, you idiot.

Still, though, this was much more preferable than the last time somebody in this party had decided they needed his attention— and meekness like hers usually didn’t lead into the types of scraps that worried him.

“Something I can help with? I haven’t been getting anything done here for like, twenty minutes, so any detour’s no trouble.”

From his tone, he all but welcomed it.

“W-well… I need to g-go looking for my b-b-brother?” she explained, gesturing in the shape of someone much taller than her. Which could be just about everyone, given who it was. “B-b-but, um… I c-can’t seem to b-blend in…”

The Mystrel fidgeted a little, playing with a strand of hair and continuing to look everywhere but at Rudolf’s eyes, “I thought th-that you might have a b-better idea…”

“Blend in, huh?” he murmured, giving her a quick once-over. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Quick as you like, his own red jacket was off, as he held it up in offering. It’d be a bit big, given their differences in frame (a rare dynamic, one that he found himself savoring), but it’d be a start, and serve the dual purpose of being a more understated alternative to her usual longcoat and less likely to immediately match her to any preexisting descriptions, if only marginally.

No getting around that it was still red, but hopefully it’d serve until they got ahold of some better alternatives for her. For his part, he would just have to endure what happened when a black undershirt let pale Edreni arms into northern sunlight.

“Changing up the ensemble’s probably a good start. We’ll be headed into a new climate soon anyway— well, not for you— But we can kill two birds with one stone; head out to the city, get some spare clothes together, and look for this brother of yours while we’re at it.”

“O-Oh, I can help!” Miina said, perking up, “I know D-Drana Asnaeu… um… the w-w-warmer parts, m-mostly, but I’ve t-traveled through it all and…”

“Nice, that takes a lot of the guesswork out.”

Putting the offered jacket on, the shy girl was actually happy to lead the way, still attracting attention due to the bright colouration and poor fit, as well as whatever other conclusions were being drawn, although she didn’t seem to notice in favour of giving a scattershot description of her brother’s appearance. At least if Zeke was in the area it should be no difficulty to spot him: just look for the tall, forever-smiling guy with hair as red as hers.

As they drew closer to the market and actually needing to ask people questions, though, she increasingly clammed up again, paying more attention to whatever happened to be on sale and keeping an eye out for anything that would be applicable to her home climate. Although there was a chance they wouldn’t be going in that direction, or down towards the coast…

But still, it was better than nothing.

One look at Miina told Rudi that he’d have to do the bulk of the actual purchasing, which was more or less fine by him. Hers were the eyes they both wanted more free to begin with, knowing what they were looking for much better for either goal.

Firstly, though, they had to get the general use wear sorted out, his jacket had fit even more poorly on her than he’d bargained for at first glance, and he could tell the odd silhouette she cut within it was probably leaving fewer people so inclined to take her seriously.

A thankfully quick fix, as ducking into the nearest tailor’s shop and throwing together a story to the tune of “My cousin’s got a pretty bad hole in her coat, so she’s borrowing mine, could we have a look at what you’ve got on the cheaper side?” proved sufficient to sate any curiosities on the shopkeep’s end that might have forestalled things.

As they milled through the stock, Rudi plucking free anything that looked both light and unassuming for immediate use, he turned his head back towards the broader scope of the outing. Miina proved surprisingly helpful at picking out appropriate fabrics, both by experience of their eventual destination and seeming to have some idea of what they could work with.

“Tall, always smiling, red hair…” he murmured thoughtfully, before glancing over to where his tiny counterpart was. If he transposed her features over this formless vibe of a guy, he could kind of guess the face he was looking for, but…

”Say, what kind of guy is Zeke, anyway? What’s he like?”

If he could get a read on his personality, some ideas as to where he might have been could pop up.

Imre always liked to hide in the armories.

Otto, by the stables.

Rudolf himself… rarely settled on a spot before he was found.

He shook his head, turning back towards the brown tunic he was eyeing.

Miina tilted her head, ears askew and looking deep in thought. What was her brother like…? If she was going to say what he was like for her, it would be warm, always helpful, and almost excessively patient. But that wouldn’t apply to everyone else, she’d seen him around the other children his age, and especially when their little hamlet got a few newcomers. He’d still been playful and smiling, yes, but he hadn’t been nearly so open, and there had been one or two times that he had been quite nasty. Especially where she was concerned, awkward and stuttering.

Then there were the occasional rumours she had had to follow to even get this far. Oh, she’d been able to follow his appearance easily enough, and they did look pretty similar, but getting from the very cold hints she’d picked up in Costa del Sol—and some former associates that Miina would rather not think of had had things to say, oddly—to the more recent trail through to Osprey and apparently Kugane itself…

“W-W-Well, he’s much more friendly th-than me,” Miina started. Not that this said much, but it was a start, “He d-doesn’t seem to have m-much trouble finding jobs when he c-comes to a new place, b-but I don’t think m-most people know he’s a m-mage either even when he w-works with them… um… important p-people always seem to b-be annoyed with him when I ask? If th-they know…”

It was really odd. Sometimes they wouldn’t even say why they were annoyed, other times it was because he’d been involved in… something, but not anything really pinned down. Or that they could do anything about.

And when she asked normal people, it was very much a “who’s asking?” type of thing. She tried to relay that to Rudolf as best she could, although rambling even more as the explanation went on.

“Hmm.”

Judging it suitably bland, he threw the cloth over his shoulder for purchase as he listened to the Red Mage’s wayward, rambling rundown. He didn’t let it show, keeping turned away to spare her eye contact, but at this point he was starting to believe he wasn’t the only one that was lucky she’d drafted him instead of another.

He had that awkward manner of speaking in him too, trying to get everything out at once. Somebody else might have tired of it by now. He’d tired a lot of people out quickly, before it had been trained to heel.

“So he picks up new jobs a lot and ends up annoying people with money and influence to throw around,” he summarized, cupping his chin with a hand as the picture began to paint itself. ”And most regular folk are leery of letting information about him go to just anyone. Keep themselves uninvolved. Sounds like he might have washed out on some loans to me. And to the type of people that get rough when they come collect, too.”

He glanced over, plucking a wide-brimmed kasa from a display bust and holding it over where Miina’s exposed ears sat in his field of view, getting an eye for the look. Certainly nondescript, but…

“Mmm… n-no, the loan sharks would have p-pushed me to pay if th-that was the problem,” Miina said after a pause, before taking the hat, and offering no further explanation as she adjusted it to sit right.

”Huh.”

A beat. Her explanation made sense, but in turn had killed the theory.

“Once we’re done here, there was an inn a few streets back that seemed to be hiring to fill a vacancy. I remember the sign hanging in the window before we shipped out to the desert— maybe even on the escape route from the prison break, but I’m not super sure there. We could check if that matches either way.” he offered.

“S-Sounds good,” the Mystrel agreed. Another odd point, all things considered; you’d think she would avoid something with so many people if it came to it.

Not lost on the erstwhile slayer of beasts. His eyebrow quirked, even as her gaze was nestled behind the conical hat of spun straw.

“Might be busy, now that the Valheimr lockdown’s up,” he cautioned, turning towards the counter to finalize their purchases (unless Miina found something else she needed in the next few seconds) and get on with the plan. “You gonna be alright? You don’t seem like you’re a big fan of crowds.”

There was a flicker of disappointment across Miina’s face, before she gave a small shrug, “G-Guess we’ll see, no p-point staying there if it’s b-busy…”

Their new clothes either on their persons or in their hands, the two left the tailor’s in short order after that, their direction set and pouch a little lighter on gil. The contrast, as they melted back into the crowd, was stark enough to observant eyes— while Rudolf in particular was still catching stray glances here and there as a visible (and pale) foreigner, Miina went from notable in an ill-fitted red coat to barely anything besides part of the throng herself, especially with her feline ears covered.

Their jaunt, thusly, was a quick one even through the busy midday streets, Rudolf now taking the lead. While his explanation for following Izayoi that morning on the outskirts had largely been pretense, it had been couched in a sentiment he’d truly held— getting an idea for the way the streets of the city intertwined was something that could have only been helpful. In days past, he’d set himself to work on it, meandering through the Capital as he slowly developed a mental map, matching names and locations with what he’d seen in the preamble to their jailbreak op.

Getting out of the compound and into fresh air that day had been good for him in another way, as well. It was an easy excuse to politely and “productively” step away from the Kirins, until tensions regarding the desperate moment on the Dunes had been granted another day to slack.

They arrived in short order at The Desert Fox, barely more than ten unaccosted minutes, and Miina was apparently in luck— for whatever reason, things seemed quiet today.

Despite the need for social skills generally seeming at odds with anything anyone had seen the shy cat do, now that she was in a bar, the girl didn’t seem completely lost, actually fishing out some coins from somewhere and ordering… well, she didn’t care what, so long as it was alcoholic, and her tail swished with curiosity as they actually heated the local drink and served it in what seemed like a box?

She’d also gotten two, whether Rudolf wanted one or not, and then set to work asking questions. Of course, that was where she started to stumble, being circuitous about what she was looking for, and also stopping to ask one of the other patrons what he was drinking, given that it was completely different.

Warmed rice wine, served in small flasks set inside a larger box, filled with water. Sake in the local tongue, though he’d also heard that it was a catch-all term for alcohol…

Regardless, he brought the ceramic to his lips and imbibed, watching Miina’s roundabout methods at work. It was oddly sweet, similar to the Skaellar mead imports his master would sometimes share from further south, but with much more of a tang, kind of melding into the cut of alcohol. Distinctive, but not at all bad. Warming the liquid was a nice touch, upped the relaxation past taking the edge off. He’d keep it at a decent measure, though, still on the job.

“This stuff’s pretty good— You’re the chattier type when you drink, huh?” he observed neutrally, in one of the moments where the barkeep was otherwise occupied with a few patrons that had come in behind them. He didn’t want to get in her way, especially when he was just tagging along on her investigation, but at the same time he was starting to wonder if he didn’t need to rein things in until they were back on focus.

They had a lull for the moment, regardless. He’d see where her head was at.

“Mmm, y-yeah… n-not much, though…” Miina nodded, looking down at her cup, and frowning. She’d been getting off topic, but even when asking questions, it didn’t seem like they were getting much in the way of answers… the only person that had shown any awareness or familiarity with the description had seemed nervous and then left.

Which meant her brother had been hanging out with some unfortunate types again, and they’d need to go ask somewhere slightly… less pleasant. But she had experience with that, and practice, and knew that even those sorts would speak up if threatened with a little magic, no matter how small the person asking was.

“Umm… we m-might have to go somewhere sh-shadier, if we want answers…”

That stood to reason. Additionally, from the sounds of things these types were more likely to know about him to begin with, from the sounds of how regularly he’d left them fuming for more than one reason or another. With liquid courage running through their veins to loosen them up, Rudolf was pretty certain that if any of the ire Zeke’d garnered turned on them, the long lines of steel the pair held on their persons would keep it in line, no matter how scrawny they were at first blush. After the revenant, after the Valheimr, what the hell were a bunch of crooks?

He nodded, draining the cup and rising, leaving some gil from his own pouch to cover gratuities. He could look shifty plenty, even if his stature wasn’t likely to be very intimidating. Maybe if his frame could finally fill out some, maybe…

“Guess it can’t be helped. Let’s go meet the people they think we are.”

As they took their leave, there was a good amount of walking ahead of them, the well-traveled and monitored markets being naturally a decent distance from the seedier neighborhoods, back alleys, and holes in the wall. A good amount of ambling through the crowds before they naturally started to thin.

They’d had a little. Even if she downplayed it, she seemed more willing to chop it up. Hell, why not? He hadn’t gotten quite what he meant last time.

As they made their way in, he broke the usual silence that fell between them, in these moments of transportation.

“So, how common is it to be doing what you’re doing, if you don’t mind my asking? Tracking down your brother after the exile, I mean.”

“N-N-Not that c-common? I think most p-people just… s-stay sort of close. You’ll still m-meet occasionally, and then you have f-families and other reasons to stay…” Miina said, tilting her head and then hurriedly adjusting the hat before it fell off, “B-But my brother went off t-travelling, and I… d-didn’t have much to stay for.”

Well, her father might be missing her, but he’d done far less to raise her, so he wasn’t owed anything. And she didn’t have any interest in staying in a tiny village to try and start a family, so maybe she’d have wanted to head out to the coasts anyway.

“Well, he’s pretty lucky,” he nodded, letting his eyes slide over the surroundings easily. “It’s a good thing to have that bond, even in the face of traditions like those. Siblings. Brothers. I dunno, my brothers and I never really…” He trailed off, before falling silent as the vibe of the streets began to change.

Inside the ‘establishment’, Miina was sure to get another drink… cheaper, the serving even more shoddy, and only the temperature made it drinkable. Most likely watered down, given the feeling of the place. And the two strangers wandering in got attention.

But this time when she was asking questions, her hand didn’t wander far from the sharp knife at her belt, ready to pull it if anyone got aggressive… or use it to enhance the threat where the firelight dancing across her hands wouldn’t.

Of course, it wouldn’t do for him to just stand around while his friend here did all the work. Rudolf quite helpfully made himself physical when the tougher nuts tried to crack back, before Miina needed to draw her own blade. To a lot of these guys, the “scrawny twerp” had suddenly been revealed to feel like he was made of nothing but taut steel cable, and preternaturally calm no matter who was handling the knife in question. He’d punctuate these moments with the promise of broken bones, twisted joints, the like.

Like sharks, the pair worked their way through in this unexpectedly insistent manner, until one of the heftier brutes finally dropped a name.

“Mizutani!” the man said through clenched teeth, as Rudolf applied a little more pressure on his shoulder girdle and drove his face closer to Miina’s awaiting flames. “He was tied up with Mizutani Tane and her goons! They were lookin’ for him all week! Goddammit, are you two with them?! Are you settin’ me up?!”

At this, the swordsman cocked an eyebrow and met Miina’s gaze, asking with his eyes if the name rung a bell. Even if it hadn’t, though… this was a hit. After all that skittish shit earlier, they’d hit upon a name.

“L-Looking? Why?” Miina asked, voice sharp for once, “I only k-knew he was in Osprey.”

The lout shot a glance across the bar, trying to catch the eye of someone… only for them to hastily look away from the obvious flames that were reaching out closer and closer to something important. Like his eyes.

“‘Cause he stiffed them! Came in here talkin’ about headin’ to Drana, and next thing Tane’s goons are lookin’ for a guy who’s done a runner!” Sure enough, with the constant threat, he was willing to spill the rest of the information, “Now lemme go, alright!?”

Rudolf held firm, unmoved by the pleas. Only one person had the power to make that call. He was sure to make this guy thoroughly understand the dynamic.

“You go when my friend here says we’re finished. Tell me though, who were you tryna look to for help just now? One of Tane’s people happen to be with us?”

“What? No! It was just a friend!” He seemed to be getting pretty desperate, though could breathe a little when Miina extinguished the flame with a sigh.

“W-We’re done here. Zeke’s g-g-gone to Drana Asnaeu, b-but we’re going too, so…”

”Lucky break, then. We can track him down there.” Rudolf said with a nod, straightening the big lug up and giving him a quick little dusting off at the shoulders before finally setting him free. He scrambled off, muttering a string of various curses under his breath.

”No more reason to stick around this dump... Let’s get outta here.”

---

The next few days had been a whirlwind of activity- most of it struggling to get back to Kugane in one piece, but they’d managed to make it back, beaten but not broken. It was a bit embarrassing really, to have left with such cavalier bravado, only to return with little to nothing to show for it, save for their injuries. The knowledge the High Caretaker granted them at the very least let them know they were generally on the right track, and as Hein had noted, of the three remaining stones, Drana Asnaeu’s was the most at risk.

For the moment they were given the chance to rest and recuperate, though for Galahad the days had been anything but restful. Organizing supplies, requesting repairs for their equipment- without getting caught by Valheim, heated discussions regarding next steps and policies, training, restless pacing, if anything Galahad felt more on edge than usual.

In the evening, Galahad found himself with a surprising amount of free time for once, and didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d resigned himself to another evening of restless pacing, and had only just started when he noticed he’d passed by Rudolf’s room, they’d all been spread out around the building, so finding each other’s rooms often felt like navigating a maze. Right. In all the movement and chaos, Galahad had almost forgotten that he had much to ask the young warrior about.

There were a quick three raps on the wooden frame of Rudolf’s door. ”Rudolf. It’s Galahad. May we speak?”

Not fully hidden by the thin walls of Osprean interior architecture came the sound of a heavy, likely full-bodied exhalation— possibly mixed with a groan. The young man had evidently been expecting this, reasonably enough, but far from looking forward to it. Whether or not he’d realized the reaction was audible, the muffled footsteps a moment later proved he knew better than to try and feign his absence.

With a faint creak, the door was pulled open, revealing the scrawny swordsman the dragoon had summoned, roll of parchment in one hand, with inkwell and quill carefully tucked off into a corner of the room behind him, watched over stalwartly by an ascending procession of seven blades in total. Nearby, the more familiar acids, oil, whestones, and the like sat in a less pointedly organized sprawl, ubiquitously Edreni examples of each, but the project clearly being abandoned. The pair of swords they had set upon, his main armaments, were still visibly in rough shape after trading blows with the Revenant.

On his face, his dismay had been carefully shoved down to concern, only a slight pull at the edges of his attentive expression. Whatever the truth was, he clearly intended to present it all politely, and approach at an even keel, not straying far from what he’d been like before they’d left on that ill-fated expedition.

“I’m here. What’s up?”

Perhaps unintentionally, or as a result of his natural perception, Galahad couldn’t help but shift his head slightly as he noticed the small mess within the room. The red wax of the Demet family seal wasn’t quite nearly as well hidden as Rudolf had perhaps intended. Galahad’s eyebrow raised as he glanced back at Rudolf, a mixture of surprise and curiosity on his face, nearing on suspicion, but not quite, at least not outright.

”Walk with me for a moment.” Galahad said plainly. Though his voice wasn’t unkind, it was also obviously not a request, as he gestured for Rudolf to follow him, turning lightly on his heel as he headed towards the house’s inner courtyard, his eyes glancing up towards the skies as they moved towards the open air.

”Are you familiar with the Demets as well?” Galahad remarked offhandedly, ”It’s been years at this point, but I’d met Earl Cadmon, and his eldest- Wulfric, some years ago. A tournament of some sort, when we were younger, about your age if I remember correctly. Are they well?”

”The Demets?” Rudolf asked, parroted really, as he loosed a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since dutifully following the finest dragoon of the generation out. Following his gaze up, he noted clear skies. ”Ah, the seal on the missive. They sound well enough.”

The finest dragoon of the generation, looking skyward. While he didn’t sense any threatening intent the way Eve’d quickly displayed on the dunes from the Caradoc scion, nor any weapons on his person, that wasn’t a detail he was just going to ignore.

Luckily, this was nowhere near the same line of questioning, nor worst-case scenario. Even in the light of what the head of the mentioned house had told him regarding his identity, this was still nestled within the realm of safety. Immediately, he could apply a lesson embedded in the text.

”I’ve been instructed to keep the Earl in the loop regarding what we’ve discovered, once I linked up with Kirin. Sagramore does technically fall under his jurisdiction, even if he prefers to keep things hands-off that close to the heartland. With the gravity of the Blight and Valheim, I imagine my being here close enough to his responsibility to change that, somewhat— plus, he’s keen on consulting that big ol’ archive of his.”

Lies worked best, after all, when couched within the broader truth.

He nodded, before offering the older man a crooked smirk.

”I hadn’t known you’d met, they’re real far from Midgar. Would have expected Eliane, maybe, out of any of us. A tournament, huh…”

A shame he’d have been so young at that point in time. Wulf and Galahad must have been a real barnburner of a match— and even if they hadn’t, the fiery, brawny redhead ought to have made for a hell of a counterpart to the coolheaded, crisp gallantry the dragoon wore like a cloak just in conversation. Really, seeing them in the same room sounded like a hell of a time.

”Should I append your well-wishes to the end of my report before I send it off?”

That would definitely earn him a pageful from the scholar lord.

Galahad was quiet for a moment, glancing intently at the young swordsman, as if he were waiting for Rudolf to amend his statement- or just regarding the young man. Galahad was curious as to why Demet might have had one of Sagramore ride out to meet with the Kirins- or who instructed Rudolf to begin writing communiques to the Demets, but nothing screamed dangerous to Galahad, at least not compared to why he’d originally brought Rudolf out.

”Balmung is about in the middle of us. I saw them maybe once a year or so- at least before the war.” the dragoon gave a small snort, ”Ah, why not. I’d bet Wulf would enjoy hearing of my woes. Though the last thing I need is the braggart sending smug letters to me next.”

”‘Galahad says hi’, then.”

Galahad couldn’t help but chuckle mirthlessly to himself for a while, but the laughter faded as he turned back to Rudolf. The casually calm demeanor slowly replaced with a more serious look as he turned to fully face the young swordsman in the dim courtyard.

Well, it was hopeful of me.

”Onto more serious matters.” He sighed. ”Firstly, I owe you an apology. I’d meant to check up on you earlier, but with the chaos and how hectic our last few days have been, I’ve been unable to.”

“I’m sure more than one of the others have already asked you about it, but I need to hear it from you. During the fight with Izayoi’s old master. The shadows, the blackfire, something about it felt wrong. In the end, it saved us, so I thank you for that. If we were just another group of mercenaries, I’d leave well enough alone. But for better or worse, I find myself at the head of a party expected to save our world. The responsibility for the others’ safety ultimately falls to me. So I’ll ask you frankly. What was that?”

Rudolf inclined his head deferentially, studying the ground between them. He couldn’t protest any of these points, just as he couldn’t when Eve had taken him to task a few nights ago. If anything, these were even worse for him, driving home the responsibility he was running from, forcing others to take on.
His eyes still low, he opened a pouch on the belt, reaching inside. His movements weren’t slow, but they weren’t sudden either— the last thing he needed now was to even remotely look like he was drawing a hidden dagger when his counterpart had the courtesy to leave his Wyrmfang at home.

From it, he produced a green-black orb, seemingly made from glass, and held it aloft. A fellow warrior from Edren, Galahad was doubtlessly familiar with the low, thrumming undertone of compressed mana in the palm, feeding vibration back into his skin like being near live current.

He said the specific elements felt wrong. Rudolf wondered. Had he not bet properly on the arcane sense or education of his more martial compatriots? Or… had Eve decided she couldn’t abide the secrecy he’d asked of her? She seemed to have a budding friendship with the dragoon beneath her stoicism, for all the irony of it. If Sir Galahad thought she knew something and asked about it, who would sway her more between the two of them?

”I carry Shield Materia with me, for when things get worse than my ability can pull me out of. I’ve never learned any specifics of the creation process compared to other types, but I understand it’s pretty rare to come across. You won’t see it cast terribly often, in any instance. Even the naturalborn spell has a pretty terrible cost.”

Galahad was no fool. He couldn’t just throw smoke over the field and say everything within was as good as gone, the man would have gotten them killed thrice over if he wasn’t too perceptive for it.

Even so.

He looked him in the eyes, finally, his courage shored up by the framing to the point where he didn’t think he’d wilt.

”Have you seen it in action before?”

”Yes.” came the near instant reply.

Thought so.

The dragoon's arms crossed, his eyes narrowed, regarding Rudolf with a stare hard enough to pierce dragon scales. While certainly a rare materia, Galahad had spent the last 3 years of the war hunting officers, mages and other targets of value. The shield spell looked different from person to person, but he'd never seen it form like that. To be fair, he couldn't be certain that what Rudolf had cast wasn't the shield spell- but he certainly had his suspicions. It didn't feel like regular magic, what Rudolf had done. The way the skies darkened as though the light around them was being sucked away and into him.

Rudolf stiffened, a jolt through the spine as Galahad’s gaze skewered him, like so many dragons. His breath seemed to hitch. Only perceptible to the keen warrior’s eyes, the orb in his hand seemed to waver.

”I'll only ask this once.” Galahad sighed, oddly feeling a bit older than he’d liked to admit. ”Would you like to amend your answer?”

”Only in that you can consider it similarly. Right down to the limits. A last resort. If you forced my hand with it now, put me in the same situation, I’d be as good as dead, alongside Izayoi.” He replied, pocketing the materia once more. He wasn’t so stubborn, or disrespectful, as to try and sell that lie to someone that had seen the real thing, but Galahad’s primary concern was the safety of the party, as he’d said prior. Certain truths were off-limits. Certain others were bad, but… survivable, framed this way.

If he could guarantee that much, he might be able to avoid revealing the real nature of his great mistake. Of admitting that he’d made a deal with something so similar, possibly even of a kind, with their existential enemy.

”I can tell you that, and that the toll it exacts is directly on me. Nobody else.” he stressed, an opaque conviction in his voice. Perhaps he wasn’t appealing solely to Galahad. ”Those are the important mechanics of it.”

The dragoon shut his eyes for a moment, pondering what possible outcomes there could be in his head. In some ways, these past few days felt more like military service than an adventuring party- threat assessments and risk management. Galahad was not much a fan of the unknown, but they weren’t exactly flush with assets, and Rudolf was of more use with the party. He let out a tired sigh, a pair of fingers massaging his temple, and nodded.

”Very well. We’ll leave it at that then.” Galahad agreed quietly. ”Though, the moment it is no longer within your control, or when it starts to become a problem, I expect you to inform me. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it then. Preferably, before it blows up in our faces. Understand?”

A relieved sigh saw the boy almost go slack before him. He had his head down again, as if he could dig into the grass with his gaze alone.

”Of course. Of course. Thank you. I won’t undercut your good faith. I won’t let you down for keeping me on.”

As Galahad took his leave, Rudolf remained in the courtyard for a time, letting everything that had transpired stew.

He took a seat, slowly letting himself down so as to not slump— he didn’t know why. Appearances seemed like the last thing he ought to have been concerned with. His heart had been hammering since Galahad’s eyes had met his. There was a pit in his stomach, something like a lead ball. And this was the second time he’d been under the lens, so much calmer than Eve’s— there, he’d felt like he’d run a marathon by the end.

Eve… was a creation of Valheim. Open with what she was from the jump, and still accepted readily into their ranks. She’d proven her intent time and time again, and hadn’t been questioned once. He certainly didn’t question it. Or Esben! Esben was bluntly saying he was a foreign agent, serving Skael’s needs first, and had still just gotten by because he was useful, helpful, and his goals at least aligned. Again, even he liked the guy, in the middle of saying all this! Did he need to go through the fear of being uncovered, time and again? Was he digging his own grave with his secrecy, seeing what was accepted?

”Hhhhhhhgh.” he sighed, breathing thick with a swirling emotion. No. He knew what happened. The two of them might have earned some caution by scrutinous eyes, but he had made a deal with the devil. He had chosen something that damn well might have been blight. “Survivable truths”, his ass. Once one thread frayed, you could keep pulling at it and it’d all unravel in time.

The very first thing his father taught him.

God dammit.

…All just to soothe his bruised ego. He couldn’t admit that. He couldn’t tell them he was such a petty, tiny, cowardly thing.

God dammit. Stupid fucking kid.

If he could turn his back on the light they sought for that little, what were they supposed to think?

…

Whether Galahad’s concerns were founded or not, he couldn’t say for sure. He had reason to believe they were safe on those specific fronts, given how long he’d lived with this…

But one thing was certain, as he brought a hand up to his brow, and tried to push his brain into the palm.

I’m not gonna be able to keep this charade up much longer.