"Haaah...haaah..." Izayoi's breath was ragged, her aether reserves exhausted by her double-layered materia manipulation. She sunk her sword into the deck board as a crutch to steady herself, glaring up at the airship once it was confirmed that those in the water had been secured.

For his part, Valon clicked his tongue in irritation as he looked down at the scene below.

"Bring Hojo's meat doll, they said. She'd be useful, they said." He murmured disdainfully under his breath, bending his knees. "Brought down in one shot by some nameless mage girl. Gods, why do they even let that idiot have a laboratory?" The renegade dragoon leapt clear out of the airship, a purple streak coming crashing down where the waves were filling the ocean surface back up. Valon shot past Siren on his leap down, feet touching the rising water for but a moment before he leapt off the water itself. He took Leviathan's unconscious vessel in his arms on his way back up, narrowly landing once more on the deck of the airship.

Valon casually threw Siren's unconscious form to the side, her bouncing slightly along the metal deck as he looked back down to the Scurvy Fishman and its occupants.

"Alright, I'll admit it. You've impressed me. Your help is certainly far more impressive than mine, Galahad. As a favor to you and little Rudolf over there, I'll leave you with a breadcrumb: I serve the True King of Edren! Down with the worthless pretender Leonhart, may he rot on his ill-gained throne! Helmsman, take us away-"

Eliane chose then to take out the ship's pilot with a well-placed headshot, leaving Valon burying his face in one palm, his other still clutching his sword.

"Breathe, Valon. Stay calm. These things happen when you're surrounded by idiots." He muttered quietly to himself. Without any further options, he hurled his sword down towards Eliane, the blade flying in the path of her explosive round and being torn apart midair. Another bridge officer quickly took the helm, getting the airship lifted up into the sky and engines fired up to beat a hasty retreat before the Kirins could get lucky and take out an engine or two.

"Yarr, get tae fuck back here!" Bikke raised a fist in impotent rage at the fleeing airship. "Ye left holes in me ship!" After a moment, he exhaled, deflating. "Right, those cunts'll still get us all killed if we don't start patchin' up them holes they left in me ship. C'mon ye louts, grab a bucket, get belowdecks, an' start bailing!"

___



Sun, sand, and surf awaited the Kirins when they disembarked in tropical Costa del Sol, the pier giving a decent view of the famed resort city. Unfortunately, they'd barely made it into the harbor itself when trouble found its way to them once more.

"Halt!" A small squadron of guards accosted them, the hafts of their spears planted in the ground. "One among you matches a description for a person of interest. You will submit yourselves for inspection immediately."

Izayoi grit her teeth in irritation as the guards began comparing each of them to a poster, and that turned into outright grinding her teeth as one among them pointed to Neve.

"That's her! The runaway initate the Grovemasters are up in arms about. Initiate Shadebough, you'll report to Brightlam immediately under our escort. As for your abductors..." It seemed the guard had the wrong idea, starting to raise their spears.

"Hardly." Izayoi physically interjected, an arm raised between the local guards and Neve. "If the girl is to see her teachers, we will accompany her as well."

"You have one chance to release the girl to our custody." Their sergeant looked irritated, glancing back to one of his subordinates. "You, to the mustering post. Send for reinforcements, now."

@Marlowe

After they were clear of the battle, clear of the Valheimer pursuers, and after he’d been checked over and cleared by Neve and Miina, the deck had had enough time to dry from the deluge forced over it that a still-weary Esben had no real complaints about laying on it and leaning against—indeed, leaning somewhat over—a tarpaulin-covered cargo hatch. As the sea itself was rather calm, he had little to worry about the spray coming up by the railing, but he still decided to seat himself a ways back from it. Taking some time to relax after they’d all gotten themselves patched together, it wouldn’t do at all to go and get himself drenched a second time.

When next he opened his eyes, it was because he felt someone or something jostling him. Not roughly, so it was unlikely to be one of Bikke’s sailors, but he still had to wonder why one of the others had decided to come and disturb him. He’d not been gone long, he knew it, he still felt tired to his bones—

The moon was high in the sky. High enough that it was likely midnight.

Moreover, he was looking at the sky, not draped over the cargo hatch.

He could feel the weight of a blanket on his body.

”Hmm?”

Curious. Even moreso once he realized he wasn’t quite looking straight up, which was the same moment he felt another small shift of a roll of fabric just under his head. He tilted his head back as much as he could, gradually making out, where she sat just next to him, the pale grey hair and red eyes of the one who’d managed to wake him. Something that he was beginning to imagine was not as intentional as he’d first assumed.

”Eve?”

After the whole ordeal with Siren, Eve had a first-hand experience at what would those imperial scum do to her mind had she failed to escape, a brainwashed creature no more different than a blindly loyal attack dog, a living weapon as they created her to be. On the other hand, her aquatic sister was veritably sapient so Eve wouldn't dismiss the possibility of reversing whatever mental conditioning imposed upon her. Alas, complications arose and if she had to decide between recovering Valheim's loyalist - indoctrinated she might be - or a Kirin, then it wasn't a choice.

...and that Kirin turned out to be less asleep than she thought.

"..." To be honest, she didn't expect the blond to stir as even she could feel drowsy when exhausted, and what he did was no walk in the park. However, now that he’s already awake...

"I figured you may need some form of covering against the cold open sea air." The Demi-Bahamut explained in her usual matter-of-fact manner, but this time, Esben would be one of those few keen enough to detect that she had something more to say, though regardless of whatever else going on in her gray-haired head, Eve continued after a short pause, "Why did you do it?"

Then another pause, tenser this time, if a certain Edrenian monster hunter was here, he might feel a shiver of morbid deja vu, "The Kirins would stand to lose more without you than me."

He probably should have expected that she wouldn't be entirely pleased by his decision to dive down and help her, although for her to immediately jump to that topic just after waking him up was a small surprise. ”Worrying over me still?” he mumbled after a couple seconds, closing his eyes with a small smile as he let her question stand unanswered for the moment. He shifted slightly, pushing against the deck to settle his head and neck further back on the makeshift pillow.

One hand reached out from the blanket, absentmindedly toying with the downturned flap of leather next to his head from the top of one of the dragon-girl's boots as he stared once more to the sky. Unlike before, however, this time he could keep both the stars and Eve's face in his view. ”What kind of answer are you looking for, Eve?” he asked after his pause, his eyes turning just slightly to focus on her. ”It wasn't a single-reason sort of decision.”

Was it that unusual to be concerned about one's comrades? Perhaps Esben couldn’t see anything erroneous with his decision and thus from his perspective, there'd be no cause for concern. What he said next certainly lent credence to this hypothesis.

"Then elaborate those reasons, so I can see how you thought what you did was worth the risk."

”The ‘risk’ was quite a bit different than what ended up happening,” was his first protesting reply. Between Miina's lightning and Izayoi's splitting the sea around them, his expectations had been dashed and drowned faster than the crew might be if the ship had been sunk. ”But, for starters—if they were able to take you and turn you against us, that would be an added difficulty. Not many of us have much way of dealing with you if that should happen, and none of them would find it an easy thing to try and put down someone that used to be one of their allies, turned against them unwillingly."

He ceased playing with the leather, instead counting down the reasons as he named them, thumb brushing over his phalanges. ”Beyond that, you have information on us, that if they were able to turn you would give them even more of an advantage against us than they already have. Trying to make sure that doesn't happen is a tactically sound decision with those all in mind, ja?” He paused at three reasons, one eyebrow raised.

”You weren't just a subject in my plan, anyways. I knew that my usefulness would be very limited against her underwater. The goal was to get her to let go of you, and keep her occupied long enough for you to get back in the fight. Given the chance for you to actually fight back after that, rather than being surprised like you were, I figured the risk to me would be negligible in comparison to the benefit.”

Though the beginning of the conversation felt more akin to an interrogation, the more the 'interrogatee' elaborated his points, the constricting atmosphere gradually returned to the calm sea breeze Esben was napping under mere moments ago.

"..." Part of the Pseudolon still had that irrational desire to continue scolding Esben, just so he wouldn't pull something like this again, but said aspect was fighting a losing battle against her pragmatic logic; it certainly didn't help that Esben was a more competent orator than the guilt-wracked Rudolf, the SEED just knew what to say. Whether those had truly been his plans or not at that very moment, she didn't have the grounds to doubt him, they just made too much sense.

"Fair, and you didn't have the benefit of foresight to know that Miina and Izayoi were going to do what they did either." Eve acquiesced, utterly "defeated" by his arguments. It seemed she had underestimated how much Valheim would have gained by recovering her, enough to put her value on par with the group's premiere strategist, sentimental bonds notwithstanding. "...And now that we have a white mage with us, I assume you also thought any wounds could be reversed as long as you survived, no?"

Truthfully, that hadn’t even been part of his consideration, though he doubted answering that question honestly would do anything to make Eve any happier about the entire situation. Instead, he swept past it entirely as his brow furrowed. ”I’m not entirely sure if you’re still unsatisfied, or if you’re too satisfied with those answers.” He returned to lazily flicking the flap of leather by his head. ”Which is it, do you think?”

Now that was a... confusing question to say the least. At this point, though she had been made aware of this 'riddler' side of the SEED Agent, she hadn't gotten used to it, if she’d ever. Eve supposed there was a good reason why he was the spy and she was the weapon, "I'm unsatisfied because I no longer have the grounds to discourage you from repeating something like this in the future." The Pseudolon answered promptly, "But on the other hand, I'm also satisfied by your explanations, you answered in a straightforward manner without beating around the bush as if you have something to hide, unlike-..."

The white-haired chimera abruptly stopped herself as a brief silence fell over them, then she made a small silent sigh, "The subject matter is concluded, you've made your case and I accepted.""

”Eve.”

He reached up, twirling a lock of her hair that had fallen forwards around his finger as he continued to look up at her. Without a doubt, this had to be an entirely new situation for her—travelling and working with the entire group was novel enough compared to her previous experiences, from what he’d gathered. He could understand entirely if she didn’t even have a framework for navigating whatever reaction she was having that fell beyond the logical framework she understood. ”If there’s more that you want to say, even if it’s being mad at me for diving in, just go ahead and say it. I won’t mind, and there’s nothing wrong with caring about something more than the mission.”

He smiled, tugging very lightly on the hair he’d twirled around his finger.

”You certainly seemed concerned when you yelled my name down there, you know.”

The demi-Bahamut fully expected they'd be going their separate ways now, he needed to resume his interrupted rest after all. However, it'd seem the blond had something more to say, else, why would he do something that'd require her presence such as twirling her hair? From her side, she simply needed an explanation that'd outweigh the risks he took by trying to engage the Faux Leviathan where she was at her most dangerous. He did, that should suffice, or at least it should be from her side, but just like the espionage specialist he was, Esben's thirst for information was quite insatiable indeed, to the point where he was searching for something that wasn't there.

"There's nothing more relevant to say, I already gave you the benefit of the doubt by allowing you to explain yourself instead of an immediate accusation," Eve elaborated, if there was any modicum of annoyance at having to repeat herself, twas' so utterly untraceable one might just consider it not existing, "I care about you, else, we wouldn't even be having this conversation in the first place." Esben should be one of the Kirins able to understand her thought process, was he expecting her to exhibit some other reaction?

"I couldn't notice your presence as Siren was clouding my mind, and when I did, the first thing I saw was you being constricted by her while a lightning bolt clearly meant to harm her was electrocuting you both." She let her words hang in the air for a moment, just so Esben could properly visualize being in her shoes, "How else would I react?" But that moment had passed and Eve wasn't the sort to wallow in her emotions, their enemies certainly wouldn't relent just to give them the chance to brood and stew.

"Do you expect me to throw a tantrum or be engulfed with tears? Are you mistaking me for an infant?"

”Perhaps I should start, if this is your serious reaction.” He released the hair, his hand falling back down, leaving Eve free to stand up if she chose. ”But I don’t think I can expect you to follow when most people never do. I’ve always figured it was simple, but maybe I’m wrong.” As tired as he suddenly sounded, as tired as he felt, he’d at least made some progress towards his goal, whether Eve realized it or not.

At the very least, he was of the firm opinion that voicing such things was better than looking for the logical, rational response every time and leaving all the rest unsaid for it.

She had been nothing but serious, it'd be in poor taste to jest about such matters, at least according to her, she was sure a few of these sea ruffians were eccentric enough to do so. "Bear in mind that I'm not exactly a good representative of the average Sollan behavior." Eve reminded him, just in case. If she had a coin every time someone found her off-putting, then she should have enough funds to amass an army large enough to face Valheim head-on.

He could hear the creaking of the rigging and the mast somewhere nearby, above them. Probably Miina, out climbing at night again, not close enough to bother over. ”Stay with me for the night, would you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen after he’d last spoken as he rolled his eyes back and tilted his head to look on Eve once more. ”I already almost lost my favourite pillow once today, after all. How well do you think I’d be able to rest if you walked off now?”

Judging by how exhausted Esben suddenly became, more than he already was, it was about time for her to go... at least until he stopped beating around the bush and expressed his desire for her company; if it was indeed his intention, why didn't he just say so from the very beginning? "Sure." The scaled girl was just about to sit down beside him until that quip of his, even she wasn't socially inept enough to not discern the slightly indirect request.

Though her face remained impassive, her right hand was already performing a flourish, conjuring a minor gust of wind, just strong enough to lift Esben's upper body a bit so she could slide her legs underneath it, only after that, the aeromancy gradually lost its power, cradling the blond back down to rest on her lap, "So I see, this is the true reason why you took such a risk, am I nothing more than a mere pillow to you?" She murmured... before curling a small, subtle smirk.

Could it be? Was she… joking?

”Every reason I’ve given you is true!” Esben protested quietly. The joke was obvious, but he still had some bit of dignity to maintain. Especially after how much of it he felt he’d lost, between their own allies shredding his plan apart and one of them giving him an extra bruise and broken rib as everything was wrapping up. At least it was clear enough that she did, at last, grasp his point. ”And there’s more beyond them. It’s not like I’ve ever heard you complain about this, either.”

Closing her eyes, Eve placed her right hand on Esben's scalp while her left was rested against his collarbone, then the SEED would feel comfortable, soothing warmth emanating from those two points before her fingers began gently massaging his skin, "The last time I lost someone dear to me, it didn't end well for everyone involved so... it'll be in your best interest to stay alive, hmm? Or..."

She leaned in slightly, her already quiet voice waning down into a soft whisper, "I might just burn the world in my sorrow~"

And there was the bit of scolding he’d been waiting for. ”Well, I’ll keep trying to make sure we don’t have to lose anybody,” he reassured her. As much as he was prepared to lose any of them in a moment if it should prove necessary, he’d spend just as much energy looking for ways out of such a situation as steeling himself for it.

Of course, given how a couple of times now they’d just managed to scrape by, it may well be that if they lost anybody then Eve wouldn’t have to bother making good on her dramatic little claim. Perhaps getting the information they’d gained from Cid to his and Éliane’s superiors, at least, could help avoid that possibility...

Ah, now’s not the time to worry about that.

He reached up to Eve, pulling the gloves off of her hands and setting them down on the deck. ”I like the stars out here,” he said after a moment, looking past Eve again up at the sky. ”There’s too much light in the cities to see more than a fraction of what’s actually up there.”

Whether to Esben's surprise or lack thereof, aside from the shift in texture from fabric to skin, the warmth emanating from the now-gloveless 'masseuse''s hands remained similar, courtesy of their supernatural nature, the simplest and most harmless display of pyromancy. Meanwhile, her eyes followed his gaze toward the night sky, stars reflected in her ruby irises, "The sentiment is mutual." She concurred, "After all, the sky is where the Dragon-King reigns."

Out on the water, away from any major cities, the cosmos was about as open to their view as it ever could be. The only things that could make it better would be binoculars, a spyglass, or a proper telescope. ”Hmm.” Now was a better time than any to answer a fresh curiosity.

”Eve, do you know how your eyesight compares to the rest of ours? Given everything, I can’t imagine it’s exactly baseline.”

The Artificial Primal continued gazing up at her patron's domain until Esben proposed a curious question, "It's hard for me to say as I've scarcely compared myself to others about this," But now it had been brought up, her mind began digging up any relevant past memories, if any, "Perhaps, which would align with the fact that dragons tend to possess keen vision to survey the vast expanse below them, but again, I do not know with absolute certainty. At the very least, none of my senses are defective."

Esben nodded, pointing up at a trio of particularly bright stars above them. ”Right there, Himstus’s belt,” he declared; given the nature of her ‘upbringing,’ he didn’t know if she’d know all the constellations as he did, but at least between his words and gesture she should be able to find exactly what he meant. ”If you look a little below it, you should see the stars that make his sword, ja? Tell me what you see.”

As directed, Eve focused her gaze toward the specific constellation. So that particular collection of stellar bodies is called 'Himstus' Belt', curious, perhaps due to its shape? After locating a pattern that bore the rough silhouette of a 'sword', she began observing them, "I see that not all of the stars are made equal. The one at the center shimmers more than its compatriots, and then even amongst the latter, some are brighter while others are dimmer."

Esben squinted up. ”Shimmers?” It was clear he wanted some sort of further explanation. He’d long since known the central star was actually a nebula, but to determine whether or not that was what Eve was getting at would need some more detail. ”And how many dimmer ones do you count?” He could resolve a few more dim stars himself, looking indirectly—if she could count even more than him looking straight at them, that would be proof enough how far beyond her eyesight was.

"Hmm.. aye, the center one is fuzzier than the others, perhaps because it appears to be composed of multiple dim stars clustered close to each other." Eve elaborated, as best as she could from someone lacking any particular astronomical knowledge, "I count..." She paused, her pupils performing minute movements while her mind tallied up the numbers, "Twelve, by my estimation, but it's quite difficult to tell how many exactly."

An entire dozen?

He laughed quietly, closing his eyes with a shake of his head. If her count was good, then she really was able to pick out details that any of the rest of them would need at least a spyglass for. Doubly so, picking out that the middle star of Himstus’s blade wasn’t a singular star at all. ”Would you be interested in working at an observatory, after we’ve all saved the world?” he asked, half in jest. ”With eyes like yours behind a proper telescope, there’s no telling what we may discover.”

Was it really that impressive? If so, this revelation had just confirmed that she indeed possessed the eyes of a dragon. Though she had been functioning just fine so far without this knowledge, now that she was aware, she could inform the others should a situation arise where such a boon could prove useful. "Perhaps, I can't say for sure, there'll be many possible paths I can take, including astronomy." Eve wasn't really that keen on dwelling on the what-ifs, especially if those required them succeeding at this monumental task first; it wouldn't take a strategist like Esben to understand which one should take priority.

Much as he may have liked to stay awake talking about the stars all night, after the day’s exertions, even with the quick healing he’d gotten from Neve and Miina, he felt tired enough he’d probably struggle just to get his eyes open again. ”Do try not to get surprised like that again, will you?” It was, of course, an impossible request—about as much so as if she had given in and asked Esben not to risk his life in the future, whether for her, any of the rest, or just in general. ”The shock was bad enough, I don’t want to see what might happen if Galahad or Elly move to help without knowing I’m in the line of fire.”

"..." The artificial dragoons were distracting her, they were facing the Leviathan Pseudolon where she was at her strongest, despite several such excuses she could pull, one undeniable fact remained, Siren capitalized on her lack of awareness and abducted her. It was inarguably a blunder on Eve's part, impossible request it might be, if foolproof prevention was out of the question, then the next best thing was to mitigate the odds of it happening again, learn from one's mistakes and all that. "We must keep improving, the odds are already stacked against us as it is, the last thing we need is indolence, for the price of negligence is steep indeed." One didn't need to search far for an example, the Kirin's own samurai would more than suffice.

"I do not know how the future will unfold, but I know one thing for certain, I won't rest until we complete our mission or die trying."

”Mmm?” There were any number of things that could be said to that, most all in the realm of ‘not how I meant that’ or ‘focus on something other than that for now,’ neither were likely to have much impact. ”Suit yourself. It might make morning come all too quickly, but rest sounds like a good idea to me.” He really didn’t have the energy to try and get his eyes back open. Remarkable. Hopefully drowsing off on the deck again wouldn’t be a problem. With little else to do or the strength to try and do it, he simply crossed his arms, his head lolling over and falling deeper into Eve’s lap as he relaxed entirely.

Ah, it'd seem Esben's little attempt at appearing as less exhausted than he actually was finally caught up to him, the Skaellan was utterly spent after all. Eve presumed he was holding out until she'd give him a lap pillow and then once that's secured, he'd gradually let lethargy take him, at the same time using it as an excuse to maintain his position. What a devious scheme, as expected from an agent of subterfuge. "For you." She couldn't resist one last quip just before he drifted off into slumber. For her part, Eve simply stayed there, her gaze tilting back up toward the aether.

Maybe someday, once this was all over, she could go on a journey to reach the stars herself...

---

"Ah, sirs, please—"

Esben pushed his way to the front of the group, wincing as his movements elicited twinges of pain from the parts that were still sore despite the healing by Neve and Miina. Luckily, taking the extra time to clean up aboard the ship before they all set foot on the docks was likely to prove a good decision; as he faced the guards with a smile, he looked for all the world like a young noble's son out on tour. "There's no need for any hostilities, I assure you." Indeed, in some sense, he was, though the slightly drawn, pained manner of the smile was far outside the norm.

Given that he clearly wasn't any sort of seasick that could lend to it.

He raised one hand, gently pushing down on Izayoi's arm, though at the same time careful to make sure that the both of them were still between the guards and Neve. "I'm Esben Mathiassen, son of the Baron Cadon of Skael. I've been out travelling lately, and have managed to accrue this...motley crew of escorts." He gave a wry grin at the guard in the lead. "Miss Shadesbough included." He subtly emphasized the correct pronunciation of her name, sure that the sergeant wouldn't miss the insult implied.

Better to settle their places as soon as possible. It wouldn't make the man happy, but—nobleman and guardsman, employer and rival employee. Dynamics that could never be forgotten for any act like this one to work.

"Truthfully, she has proven invaluable. Why, just the other day we were beset upon the waters, and it's thanks to her that I'm even up and moving right now, rather than being carried in a litter! By all means, we'll be happy to go and meet with the Grovemasters; I would love to meet the ones that taught our white mage so well, if only so that I can give them the thanks that they're due for having her so well prepared. I'm sure my father would appreciate me taking the chance to see about opening up a new line of business in this port of yours, as well. Ah, but..."

His smile turned apologetic. "Given that I'm the one that's currently speaking for her employment, and given that I am also her patient, I'm sure you can understand why we wish to accompany her. I'm sure the Grovemasters and I can sort out some sort of arrangement..."

He looked skyward once, before shutting his eyes and smacking his forehead, the remnants of the burns on his hand being just visible to the sergeant.

"Ah, silly me—you'd like to see my papers, I'm sure? I should have the signet ring somewhere as well...you do have someone who can verify the authenticity of all of it, of course?"

@The Otter@Ithradine

"Easy—" Rudi yelped, all but diving to catch the utterly spent Faye's head before her slack frame clattered it off the hardwood deck. She was, even without the blindingly obvious indicator in the blood from her nose, clearly in terrible shape. He looked to Neve, a call for help barely forming on his voice before Valon's cast itself over the field, dropping his name, Galahad's... and Leonhart's.

The words were little answer for the Edreni cohort's burning questions as to why the dragoon had become a turncoat, but all the same, Rudolf's died unspoken. Ill-gotten throne...? Was he insane? Leonhart's family had risen to power a damn sight before any of their times— let alone with even a glimmer of illegitimate means.

They'd taken a man so loyal to the country that he'd leapt at the chance to possibly die for it, younger than Rudi was now... and got him spewing that, of all things.

The airship slunk away into the clouds. His fellows returned to the deck, one by one, as what was left of Bikke's crew began to scramble to return the ship to working order.

He shuddered watching it go, and as it stilled, the last of his strength left.

Just in time to feel eyes fall upon him, with new suspicion. Valon was clearly a changed man, but he was still the same loud bastard he'd once met, so long ago.

The name echoed in his mind. Shilage. Shilage. Shilage.

He grimaced, but didn't meet the gaze, as he softly laid Ciradyl's head to the deck... and after only a few dozen trudging steps, collapsed against the main mast, on his haunches next to the family's parting gift.

---

"Trouble with Customs, Sir?" a clipped, professional, inquiring South Edren-accented voice sounded from behind the main mass of their party, once a lull had appeared in the wake of Esben's opening salvo. Any glances in that direction and away from the sunny-smiling heir to a barony would find a much shorter man trying to jockey for position through the assembled ranks, robes, and armoring, a half-dozen "Do excuse me, please"s flying from his pale, worried expression in undertone.

By the time "escorts" had left Mathiassen's lips, Rudolf had set to work ducking behind the frames of his peers and slicking his platinum hair back over itself. He was far from the walking arsenal he'd entered Osprey as at this point, and a good bit scrawny to sell himself as one of the bodyguards— to these guys, anyway...

"I don't believe we should have anything or anyone aboard that should warrant an undue search or seizure..."

Was Eliane's new toy in view from here?

As he emerged and drew just behind Esben, then, he took upon himself the role of a beleaguered porter, a carrier-of-things that looked between the two Kirins and the guard squadron, the mask of propriety on his face hiding a racing mind. Baron Cadon, Baron Cadon, where had he heard a Baron Cadon's name pop up before?

Was it even real? It had to be, Esben never lied or made people up.

Esben never lied...

Son of...

"Ah, yes, my man Rudolf here—Rudolf, bring over my bags, if you would—I first ran into him on the road up through Edren, if you'd believe it! While he's here with me, he's also under the employ of Earl Demet from Edren's southwestern border..."

Blinking slowly, his gaze now pinned itself onto the taller blonde, who had already turned his easy smile back onto the guards.

Even if it was a Barony he couldn't remember, Esben was its blue-blooded heir. A man of noble birth.

He knew. With that wrinkle revealed, Rudolf suddenly understood that Esben didn't just suspect him. He had long known the nature of that particular facade.

"Earl Demet has good relations with Brightlam, doesn't he? The couriers in southern Edren made it sound as though he had quite a reputation, sending messages, payments, and people back and forth from his home to the Grovemasters some years back. Rudolf, would you be able to hazard a guess?"

For a moment, the tropical heat and sun of Costa del Sol, world-renowned resort, fell away. In its place blew a frigid wind from far, far south of here, freezing Rudolf's blood at the heart.

Their eyes met.

Esben saw what he saw within dull gold, then...

"Ahem. Yes. Yes, I believe that was the case— albeit some years before my employ— but he was in regular contact with the Grovemasters and their finest. He was a... very determined patron of the White Magics."

"One among you matches a description for a person of interest. You will submit yourselves for inspection immediately."

Nope, nope, nope, she had to get out of here immediately before she got any attention. Fortunately, Miina was of course well away from the guards inspecting her first... that bought her some time. She would have thought her relatively good standing with those other groups that had been a little more up front with what they were after would have kept her from any attention but... not important now, maybe she'd have to pay a visit later? After meeting up with people again.

Of course, that meant that the redhead hadn't stuck around for long enough to realise that she wasn't the person of interest in this case. Or at least not one that had been identified coming in. Instead, one quick near-invisibility to hide her form later, Miina had gone for the straightforward (if somewhat tricky, one couldn't easily climb down the wet sides of a ship) approach of climbing overboard aft and starboard of the ship and heading for shore a bit further up where she'd be able to get into Costa del Sol without attracting any attention... if she was careful.

Stay below the waves where possible... and worry about getting the salt out of her things later; it wasn't like she'd not practised this before.

Hmm, hopefully nobody would give away that she should be on board.

Heavy, much too heavy, she wasn't built for this. While no one was perfect - not even the gods - brawn was undoubtedly where Eve was most imperfect, one could even argue she was defective considering even a Kirin of her size, the feline Red Mage, could noticeably better handle tasks requiring feats of strength. Was this a sign from the heavens that she should consider training with one of the martial-minded Kirins? A matter to ponder later, but right here, right now, she had to do something; with each second ticking by, her grip on the electrocuted, rattled, and exhausted blond was slipping.

Cast a spell? She is the group's premiere offensive spellcaster so might as well play to her talents. An aeromantic blast to propel his form toward the ship would be the most obvious solution.

However, Esben was nowhere in a good shape, how severe were his wounds? Did the Sollan already have one foot in the grave? If so, she needed to adjust the power of the spell, too little and he'd simply fall back into the sea, too much and what'd arrive at the deck would be a corpse.

So many calculations to make, factors to consider, all requiring time that she didn't have-!

-and then the Kirin's very own dragon slayer and dashing heroine made the decision for her as the former propelled them toward the latter, already swinging on a rope, ready to catch them... or to be more specific, one of them. "Tch...!" Now that the die had been cast, the last thing she should do was sabotage it. Fully believing that it'd work, Eve released her hold on Esben's arm, leaving him - somewhat literally - in Robin's arms.

And she made it, of course she would. Robin was a folk hero for a reason after all.

For her part, Eve landed back on the ship just as Valon returned to his. "..." As a dragoon, traitor or no, he should know what'd be coming next, aye? There was a reason why Edren employed his kind, not warships, to hunt dragons. If he had forgotten, then she'd gladly remind him.

Etherous power was already coursing through Eve's body as the tell-tale signs of the distinctive prismatic aura shimmered from her petite frame. Proudclad's Tragedy shall claim another!

...?! Then her gaze widened upon identifying just who was on the turncoat's armored shoulder.

What is the matter, Grayscale? She's already dead, go, do it! Vaporize them, unleash Megaflare!

If she was, then why would Valon bother going out of his way to rescue her? Could it be-...

Thinking does not suit you, you are a weapon, act like one. Simply imagine as you turn these arrogant fools into dust, imagine the pleasure. They're the enemy, they deserve no quarter, no mercy. Hesitate not, Grayscale, ...do it.

"I-..."

”I have to wonder if that would be honoring your mother’s wishes, to exterminate all the others like you. It would be a different matter if they were mindless weapons capable of nothing but mass destruction.”

”Wear it, break it, ponder upon it, throw it in the sea. Do something with it. What I need from you, is to be more than just a weapon.”

"That's right, I-..."

”Are you such an exception that giving such mercy to the others is unthinkable?”

”Don't swear to me. Swear it to yourself.”

"I swore."

"No, I will not."



"Aaah..." Eve droned out an unamused, tired groan at the group of... what were they supposed to be anyway? Guards, mercenaries, random thugs? They dressed fancy and talked firmly, yet politely, so... guards...? Whatever they were, after what Valon, Siren, and their cronies tried to pull a few days ago, Eve had little patience left for people accosting the team.

She, amongst individuals such as Izayoi, knew very well how vexing being hounded was, though the subject being Neve out of all people did slightly take her by surprise. I suppose she's such a precious healer that they want her all to themselves, whoever these Grovemasters are.

Eve's red eyes shifted awkwardly when the head guard called for more of their numbers. Some part of her wanted to quip something along the lines of "I wouldn't do that if I were you", while subtly angling her head toward Izayoi, but another part of her realized that inhospitable as they were, they were still Neve's people.

Fortunately, the ever-reliable Esben had come up with a more... one could say, diplomatic approach than whatever Eve or Izayoi could come up with. After his introduction, one of the guards glanced at the black-clad mage amongst the Kirin and Eve simply just shrugged in response, "what he said" would be an apt phrase to illustrate the gesture.

Though she wasn't sure if picking Rudolf as his "chaperone" was the right move, maybe someone more native to his homeland would do better, such as Elian-... hmm, nevermind, Rudolf would do.

---

In the midst of the dead of night and beneath the low-hanging moon, the Scurvy Fishman was eerily quiet. All that sounded was the groggy to-and-fro of the hull cresting the waves and the gentle snores of sleeping crewmates. It was far past a young lady’s bedtime, although Neve could not bring herself to sleep. Her mind was restless, her thoughts bouncing along the inside of her skull like frazzled birds caught in the height of a tempest. Although her cot called to her, begging her to sleep and enter the land of dreams, the young woman was wont to pace about the deck of the sleepy ship. One name drifted along her worries.

Arton.

Izayoi had mentioned he was unwell. How unwell, Neve couldn’t bring herself to ask. There were many things that could make people unwell. A sickness. A chronic illness. A Blight. The concern among the crewmates’ and the others’ faces was enough to drive a stake through her heart. And when Neve’s aching body and relentless mind refused to rest, she found herself rapping upon the door to the swordsman’s quarters.

”Please tell me you are awake, Arton.”

There was a brief pause from the other side. A faint groan broke the silence as did the creak of floorboards as he got up.”Yeah…yeah. I’m up alright.” The tired voice drew closer as did his footsteps until they seemed right at the door. A metallic click echoed through the hall as the bolt was removed and the door pulled towards his room. He hadn’t recognized the voice through the door and other ambient noise. ”N-neve? What are…you doing up?” It came as quite a surprise to see her here at this hour.

Dark bags hung underneath his eyes, dulling the color of what had been a vibrant pair of blue eyes the last time Neve had seen him. His dark brown hair was a bedraggled mess from repeated tossing and turning as night terrors ravaged his few moments of sleep. A thicker linen tunic covered his upper body while a pair of looser pants accompanied it.

Arton had heard that when you go for so long with sleep you start to hallucinate. That was the first thought that had come to his mind when he first spotted Neve. The happiness at being reunited had overcome the fatigue that afflicted him now. It had taken every bit of his strength not to lift her into the air, but it had been temporary in the end. Arton had retreated to his quarters more and more as the state of his condition became more widely known. Now the one person he really didn’t want seeing him like this was looking straight at him.

Neve didn’t know what to expect when Arton finally opened the door, but it definitely wasn’t this. The woman stared hard at the swordsman, her gaze sweeping him up and down as she entered his room. Slowly, as if not to disturb the tense silence that had passed between them, she closed the door behind her. There was a dense feeling in the air besides the quiet, one that soured the back of her throat and caused the hairs at the back of her neck to prickle. There was no mistaking the smell, the look in Arton’s eyes. The Blight had taken hold of him.

”What’s… what’s happened to you?” she whispered, stepping closer. Her gaze peered into his own.

He felt he was burning under her discerning eye and nearly winced. It had been enough to blame fatigue or even sea sickness, but even he knew the others were beginning to suspect something. Arton knew it was futile to send her away now and moved further into his room to allow her in. It was not as though he had the energy right now to protest.

The atmosphere felt far more intense than when he spoke with Eliane about Reisa.

Those eyes of hers were near impossible to meet but he managed somehow. ”It's, uh, been a hell of a time since you left. I guess I'm still trying to get used to it. An obvious lie that he forced a laugh in a vain attempt to pass it off as a joke. Regret immediately filled him. Under her relentless gaze, he turned his head away in shame at his attempted deception. ”Sorry. I haven't slept much since the party entered Osprey.”

Neve cocked her head at him. She didn’t understand him. How could he be so nonchalant about the rot that spread through his blood? He festered before her, and yet he chose to ignore the Blight that slowly destroyed him. She didn’t know whether to yell at him or weep for him. She bit the inside of her cheek, holding her hands together in front of her as her eyes skimmed his frame.

”You… are in so much pain,” she whispered. Her gaze locked on his face again, though this time her eyebrows sunk down towards her eyes and her lips pursed together. ”Show me. Please.”

The way that she looked at him made him feel uneasy. He had pushed through the fatigue brought about by this corruption through grit and a fierce determination to keep this party safe. Why, then, was she looking at him like? What was there even to be done? The healing potions he had been purchasing to carry him through had stopped being effective.

Her quiet words caught him off-guard and he felt his chest grow tight. A wide-eyed expression looked back at her. Pain. It had become so familiar he almost didn't notice it. That was unusual. Neve had only just returned and he was already causing her trouble. His eyes narrowed at her question and his hand instinctively touched his left shoulder.

His hand trembled there, torn whether to grant the request or cast her out. The memory of the aftermath at the King's castle passed through his mind. Neve would have been the first one he came to if something like this had happened during their journey together. Did he want to shield her from the truth or was a part of him bitter she had left in the first place? It might have been both.

Arton's dulled blue eyes stared intently at her for a moment before he let out an exhausted sigh. Without a word, he undid the fastenings of his tunic and slid it over his head before tossing it aside. Numerous scars decorated his body, some rather severe, but the majority had been received before he joined Team Kirin. Arton turned his back to her and dropped to one knee then the other. There she could see it. A vicious, gnarly bite scar that had long since gone a dark black. Vein-like trials extended from its center towards his chest and all halfway down the arms. “Satisfied?” The word sharpened to a fine edge.

Neve’s eyes did not move from Arton as he undressed; at that moment, she did not care much for the very fact that he had disrobed in front of her. Her sights locked in on the black taint upon his back, its long, spindly arms trailing over his skin. Its stench became near unbearable now, drawing the bile from the very back of her throat. It almost made her expel her dinner from that night. Arton… what has happened to you?

”How… How did this happen?” Neve said, her voice a dismal hiss as she stepped closer. She was frightened to touch it. If she tried to heal it, even, then what was going to happen? The blonde mage shook her head. ”Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful when I was gone?!”

Arton stared at the blank, wooden wall with furrowed brows. It was a small blessing that was what he had been facing instead of Neve’s discerning eyes. He was a dead man walking. Maybe he’s always been. A life on borrowed time. Arton hunched forward hearing that question. Feeling the shock of her words. He couldn’t answer. Not truthfully. One memory seemed to blend into the next and it was hard to think this exhausted. His head lowered in silence. He was a fool. That was how it happened. An idealistic fool too far enveloped in the myth of his own invincibility.

A dozen slain blight-beasts scattered the damp forest ground and yet he had not won. Two bloodied and mangled corpses stood out from the rest. They had been bigger idiots than him, putting their faith in his leadership. His armor was in tatters and was barely holding together as he stared down the maw of a lion-like blight-beast. One final attack. One last desperate move to ensure his allies’ deaths were not in vain. Pushing off one foot, he lunged with his blade and so too did the blight-beast. The expected swipe of rotted claws never came and instead his shoulder ignited with a searing pain as the fangs of the monster sunk in. The weight of its body was trying to pin him down but he planted his feet, screaming in defiance. His blade sunk into his chest and he tossed it onto its side, slipping a dagger from sheath on his chest and sinking it into the exposed neck.

It had happened shortly before the call from Edren’s King reached him. Those miserable days on his own when he had made the mistake of letting others follow him. High quality potions had been enough to offer relief for a time but shortly after leaving for Osprey the Blight had spread too far.

It felt like she had already given up on him once before, but there had been hope. Now a burning, seething anger bubbled within. His hands balled into tight fists and forced his rage through his knuckles into the coarse wooden floor. ”I have done the best I can while you were off doing gods know what! I’ve done everything I can to keep this party alive so forgive me if I got a bit reckless! Everyday I hoped you would make your way back to us and now you’re talking like I already died!” Arton yelled as he moved off his knees and stood, turning around to face Neve. Blight had without a doubt started to take him but there was a separate darkness in those eyes. He squeezed his balled-up fists hard and released a portion of that anger.

”The bite happened before we met. Nothing you would have been able to do anyway. Animosity tinged his words as he walked away from her and picked up his tunic, setting it on his bed properly. He didn’t understand where all this rage was coming from. Neve didn’t deserve this from him. It was getting harder and harder to keep under control.

The creak of the wooden ship filled the quiet that befell between them, and the moans of the hull served well to wrap invisible tendrils of worry around her stomach. It was almost like Arton didn’t plan on answering her– why, she did not know– until he raised his arms and slammed balled-up fists into the wooden floor. The sound of knuckles hitting a solid surface was enough to make her jump in alarm. Neve took a step back, shrinking away at the roar of his words. He was so… angry. So frightened. If only she knew about his wound before she left, she could have maybe healed the bite. Perhaps snip the infection in the bud. But now, the sight of the rotting flesh and the smell of necrosis only deterred her.

”I… am so sorry…” Neve whispered. She gathered the gall to step closer, although she averted her eyes down to the floor in shame. ”I wish I had been there to help. But even I can’t refuse the call of the Grovemasters. I can only pray that someone in Brightlam will be able to help you. I’m sorry, Arton. I want to help. I really do. But… my magicks pale in comparison to Blight so deeply ingrained into the flesh of a living being.”

Her apology burned him worse than any magical flame. A part of him wanted her to yell back at him. Scream that he was being an idiot. He had been avoiding this conversation since she came back and he could see it had been inevitable.

An exhausted sigh left him. ”I’m sorry too…for lashing out like that. I can’t seem to help it much. Arton turned to face her, managing to regain most of his composure. That was it then. His arms hung loosely at his sides feeling the truth of his reality set in. The frame of the bed creaked as he sat down on it, arms resting on his knees but chose to look directly at her. ”No choice but to keep pressing on then, right? I’ve managed this far so what’s a little longer?” A hollow smile rose on his lips.

There was little chance of curing himself, that much he had read from Neve. He considered himself sturdier than most and with the help of his HP plus materia he had been able to last longer than most. That borrowed time had run out. Arton didn’t want to see the expression in those eyes of hers. A look of pity for a dying man. The blight had already begun to reduce him as such. ”I would have liked a break, just once.” This was spoken almost quietly against the forces of Fate.

Thank Etro he was able to calm himself. Neve wanted to touch him, to hold him and provide him some respite in the darkness of this cramped room. But even she was afraid to touch him. Her mind flashed back to the sickened Mystrel back on the way to Brightlam. How the taint had coursed through his body, rendering him a shade of his former self before he perished. She wouldn’t let that happen to Arton. No, she would find a way to heal him. There had to be a cure in Brightlam. If not, then Skael. If not, then…
”Press on for as long as you have to. For as long as you need to until you are cured,” Neve replied in a gentle murmur, meeting his eyes for the first time since his outburst. ”You must persist. It’ll all be worth it, once Etro turns her eyes towards you. Then, you will be able to rest easy under Her smile.”

There was a spark of light buried behind the darkness around his eyes. ”I have been praying every night lately so I hope she hears me soon. I am nothing if not persistent” He couldn't let himself fall to the Blight, not now. If Neve was willing to believe he could be cured, that was enough for him to believe too. Besides, he didn't want to be responsible for anymore of her tears.

Arton parted his mouth to say something else but after a short pause closed it once more. Now was hardly the time to express such thoughts. Not when his fate was so uncertain. ”It really hasn't been the same without you.” He made a silent oath to Etro that for as long as he could, he would never stop resisting the corruption inside him…and he would allow no harm to come to her precious servant.

The fact that Arton was able to keep his faith had been a miracle. Neve had heard of stories of people abandoning their Mother after they had spent a long while under great duress, and she would not have blamed Arton if he had been one of their number. What mattered was that Etro granted her flock strength when they were at their weakest– when the flock diverted from their treaded path, then it was up to her closest followers to lead them back to her embrace. Neve’s eyebrows arched up at his last comment, and it was at that that her smile returned in full force.

”I’m more than glad to have returned, my good friend.”

If it hadn’t been obvious before then, Neve had realized how much she had been needed since her departure. She would have to make certain that she wouldn’t leave their side again.

Arton simply nodded with a half-smile, fighting off the fatigue that surged through him now that he had calmed down. One more secret cast into the light. ”We should talk again soon. There’s more I want to tell ya but…” His shoulders and torso flexed as he sharply yawned. ”..I’m not sure I can stay awake now.” Whatever was keeping him awake had seemed to quiet down after speaking with Neve. His limbs were feeling especially heavy.

”I’m trusting you to keep an eye on me now. Don’t want to be accused of being too reckless.” He spoke with a low laugh. It had felt like he had been in a spiral of death recently. Desperately clawing at whatever might slow the fall. Etro had given him a sign. He could not falter. He could not waiver. Salvation would surely arrive if he just kept fighting. Monsters. Valheim. The Blight. Arton would weather this storm.

Ah, so they were all good now. Neve felt her shoulders slump in relief. While concern still babbled within her chest, she was more at ease now that she had recognized the familiar warmth to Arton’s voice. She ran a hand through the strands of her hair, eyeing his fatigued yawn and bobbing her head. ”Of course,” she murmured, now giving him a sincere smile as she backed towards the door. ”I hope to do a good job at keeping you– and everyone safe, from now on.”

Her hand fell upon the doorknob. Slowly, as to not make much noise and disturb Arton’s sleepy mood, she opened the door. ”Goodnight. Try to get enough rest. We’ll share more stories in the morn.”

---

Éliane had just barely begun to take in the beautiful sights of the beachy and tropical Costa del Sol. For the Skaelan woman, the warm, pleasant weather was truly an exotic location, and she could see why it might be a popular destination for leisure, even if it was in a land outside of Skael. She had almost begun to make a positive reception of the place, pirate transport aside, when she was immediately confronted by inferior barbarian guards work as the team was accosted by the local guard patrol. This having been her career herself, she was intimately aware of how certain things were conducted…

And the way these men were conducting themselves was literally how wars started.

After all, once more, Éliane was still in full Skaelan officer’s dress, and she was still on an official mission on behalf of the Overseer. Then, of course, there was Edrenian side of the equation.

She began stepping forward to intervene when Esben did so himself, usurping her position as the main Skaelan representative, much to her additional annoyance. Yes, she knew Esben’s backstory, and it certainly held some weight here…

But Éliane was also still holding a big fucking gun, and had the backing of the Skaelan government behind her.

Looking just a little annoyed, she spoke up after her countryman, taking on the more authoritative tone of a proper officer. “This is an official Skaelan delegation, in conjunction with the kingdom of Edren to investigate the blight. If you are not satisfied with Baron Cadon’s explanation, I’d like to point out any attempts to detain a member is tantamount to a declaration of war with both Skael and the kingdom of Edren, and Skael does not lack for firepower to back that up.”

Given the journey, and having the expectation of being able to relax and play with her new toys, she was just about done with this situation. She shifted her luggage, and somewhat threateningly, pointed the large rotary barrel of the minigun in the direction of the guardsmen.

“Do you feel lucky?”

---

The past few days had brought Galahad little comfort, broken rib and injured shoulder aside, the thought of Valon having joined the enemy troubled him. He'd yet to talk it over in depth with the others, as he was busy trying to get his head wrapped around the idea itself. Valheim now had their own dragoons- fake as they were, they still had potential against the people of their lands, perhaps the Kirins were a bit too much sport for them to handle, but an average infantryman? That begged the question, just how long had Valon been a traitor, to have trained them like he did, and were there more than just him? What or who was this 'True King' he mentioned? Valheim? Valon had more or less made himself an enemy of the crown with such a statement. Even after his wounds healed, his mind remained troubled still.

Drana Asnaeu, even it's idyllic city of Costa Del Sol, would grant them little reprieve it seemed. Guardsmen accosted the the moment they stepped off the ship, spears pointed and tensions flaring almost immediately. As Esben made his attempts to smooth things over, Galahad placed an armored arm protectively in front of their white mage, though it seemed more spears were pointed at him than at her.

Eliane, for her part laid things out rather plainly, Team Kirin- though perhaps not starting as such, was now more or less a combined delegation of both Skael and Edren representatives- one could even argue Ciradyl and Izayoi constituted representatives of Osprey's government in exile. The Kirins may have been outmatched numerically, but as Valheim's continued attempts to defeat them had proved, they were certainly not outmatched in quality and skill.

Tucking his helmet in the crook of his arm, his wicked halberd- for the lack of a better place to store it- resting on his shoulder, Galahad merely glanced at the men surrounding them and shrugged.

"They speak the truth. We are not abductors, quite the opposite in fact." Galahad said in a tired voice, glancing around at the speartips pointed at them. "I do believe my dearest cousin, Leonhart VII would be rather upset to learn if I've been taken into custody, after all we have been led to believe that our nations have shared fruitful relations up until this point. To put it plainly: rest your spears. I believe this is best a matter settled with words and the Grovemasters, armed conflict will benefit few, nor would I feel comfortable harming the countrymen of a dear friend."

---

Nighttime.

Valon’s attack may have ended as he and the airship he rode in on slunk away after his and Siren’s defeat, sure, but the effects carried long into the day thereafter— The Scurvy Fishman’s crew and passengers alike hard at work licking wounds of all types, with redoubled vigil as they entered unaccosted waters. Neve and Miina in particular had their hands full with Kirin’s injuries alone, let alone those of Bikke’s men. The battle had been swift, sudden, and severe, pushing them all to their limits.

Those men in turn, when able-bodied, were every bit as swamped— bailing out water, plugging leaks, trying desperately to save what they could of the rigging the fight had torn through and strewn all over the deck, and nearly tripping over their own injured crewmates to do it.

It wasn’t until nighttime that everything had calmed down completely, which was plenty of time for a small-statured, quiet young lad to slip away beneath the noise. That opening thrust hadn’t quite destroyed the mizzen, even with the erstwhile Royal Dragoon’s ill-gotten gains— but it had thoroughly wrecked his usual perch.

In the light of the moon and stars, the familiar sounds of the waves below rocked against his ears and mind, drowning out stone against steel. Long repetition guided his hand, allowing for his eyes to wander forward, out into the waves. They were inklike in hue now, as though he beheld a sea of tar, not water. A far cry from the brilliant blues of daytime. Let alone the golds and roses of that very morning, where he had carelessly fed Neve a brand new lie, taking the place of those he’d struggled to dispel. This one worse by half. Just like the last of its’ kind he’d told.

Here on the prow, he had no deck to catch him if he fell, despite how much lower it had been. One small mistake, a miscalculated shift in weight or maybe even less, and he’d have spilled over into the cold, churning black. Lost forever, in the dead of night.

So easy. So infuriatingly easy, to answer the call of the waves for one final embrace.

A fate he had all but accepted.

“Keep Struggling”, he’d said? Like hell. He’d felt that part of him slip behind the veil…

He held the edge of his dagger high, catching moonlight, inspecting his handiwork as though it might have changed once, five years deep into perfecting it.

He had given up. Forgotten everything. Accepted the easy way out, and only blindly stumbled back from an earned oblivion. Bailed out by his passenger. Soon to pay the piper.

Five years deep.

Still the damned same. Everything.

”Rudolf,” a clear voice called out from behind him, calm, if a bit curt and clipped. ”What are you doing up there? You'll fall.” Behind him stood Galahad, his upper torso mostly concealed by the sling that held his right arm still, Valon's recently cleaned and polished spear cradled in the crook of his left. Now outside of his armor, since the fighting had died down, his clothes and hair billowing slightly in the nighttime breeze. The older dragonslayer looked tired, troubled, though perhaps not as much as the hunter standing before him. ”I'll hope your sea legs are stronger than mine, I don't have the energy, or the hands necessary to jump down and pull you out.”

”They’ve managed so far. I’ll be fine unless I suddenly pass out.”

“If you want to look into the night and brood, use the railing like the rest of us do. But first, I would speak to you for a moment.” The dragon slayer said, wincing slightly as he gripped the spear in his arms and took a step or two back.

Not even one night’s respite before this, then.

Galahad would see the young man’s shoulders sag as he sighed through the nose, even as he held the knife aloft. The concerns about falling weren’t quite a pretense, but he could hear the preamble on them before Galahad dropped the other shoe— and sure enough, the man wasn’t letting him off the hook. He rose.

The knife swiped through the air, as though slashing the half-hearted concerns thrust before him as they came. Functionally, a sound and feeling check— the type of thing one did for less for empiricism and more for the illogical subconscious, the divine connection between weapon and wielder.

Perhaps, then, he was instead testing its ability to cut in his hands, after it had failed to do more than scratch that very same Pseudolon, a false queen of the depths they brooded over.

“...What about?” he requested warily, one golden eye peering over his shoulder before he half-turned, bringing the knife hand in front as he clocked the pilfered spear. “You should be resting up, more than anybody. Shoulder not letting you sleep?”

The man was wrapped up pretty thoroughly, all told, and his posture was far from aggressive. More than anything, he looked as though the run-in with their mutual old acquaintance had been akin to running the Stormseas leg of their journey on foot all day. Rudolf knew what half that pace felt like, and it was far from any shape to be fighting in. The White Magic that had knit his shoulder— and ribs,if memory served— would need more time to settle.

Still, though…

“I see you’re bringing Valon’s spear to the conversation.” he noted, gesturing with the tip of his dagger to the jagged, bloodred lance. “A bit late in the day to make me into a casualty of his— But in all seriousness, I’d like to ask why. Worried whatever you’re bringing up will force you to defend yourself from me, after how the last one went?”

It was an odd balance, that which his tone struck— something threading the needle between flippant disdain for the words and earnestly asking the question behind them.

”Do I have reason to be worried? What would I hope to accomplish in my state? Truthfully, It seems I'm not as original in my thought as I hoped I'd be.” Galahad admitted, ”I'd come here to brood. That you'd be here as well is both convenient and inconvenient.”

”Well, I’d hate to be a bother.”

”Yes well, while this spear is quite handy as a walking stick… less unwieldy and obtrusive than my own weapon,” Galahad sighed, shuffling a bit as he begrudgingly removed his weight from the weapon and reversed the spear in his grasp, pointing its butt towards Rudolf. ”But, I can't help but notice you've been appearing increasingly under-armed as of late, so I figured I'd furnish you with something with a bit more reach than your knife, until we managed to reequip ourselves properly.”

Galahad glanced at Rudolf still standing on the prow and sighed. ”I'm not coming up there in my current state, so please come take this spear before I fall over. You know how to use it, don't you?”

“Appreciated, and… eh, well enough for blightbeasts— won’t call it my forte, obviously.” he supplied with a shrug after a moment’s thought. Spears were simple, and his training was deeper than he let on.

”Though perhaps you give yourself away more than you expect,” Galahad sighed, ”Though it is in his nature, I don't believe Valon ever announced himself by name during out battle. Are the two of you acquainted then? Rudolf… Shilage? I believe he called you?”

A deep, deep breath preceded heavy footfalls, as the younger man all but stomped down the prow’s length. His rondel stayed at home, for the most part, but Galahad’s eyes would doubtless catch the other hand unfurling from a tightly balled fist as he used it to grab a hold of the butt end of the spear.

His eyes didn’t leave the dragoon’s. Once wary, now they boiled, new life breathed into the dull gold with a froth of emotions locked behind the lid.

”Awful trusting. He also called your cousin a false king. I admit, I assumed he’d blurted his name out at some point. I was busy with Eve’s sister— wouldn’t have heard it either way. But yes, we’ve met.”

As he pulled the haft in, couched into his armpit as though jousting, though, he thrust his dagger forward, towards Galahad’s nose. The dragoon's eyebrow raised, though he didn't flinch. Hilt first— display, not threat.

”Even with that said, just the same as him being wrong about Leonhart, he’s wrong about me. There is no ‘Rudolf Shilage’ aboard this vessel. I told you who I am when we met, Lord Caradoc. A warrior of Sagramore village. This blade proves it. You know that.”

This was a far cry from the nerves on display when they first had a confrontation in this manner. Now, the spark of Himstus had been lit.

”And if you know that, you also know this: If you believe me to have come into possession of this blade illegitimately, it is your duty as a Midgari Dragoon, as a friend to the Village, to run me through with it and return it to the Forgemaster, so he may tell you who really killed the Sabertooth for the hilt, and to whom it must return, dead or alive.”

However much it likely sounded an ultimatum, the young man did not move a muscle from that first passing of weaponry. He simply spoke instead, in a voice tight enough to burst.

“Before you arm me, I believe it my duty to remind you of that.”

Galahad stared at the young hunter for a moment, several long moments, as though he were calculating or weighing the truth or value of his words. The defensiveness of the tone he took, how aggressively he seemed to deny it only made Galahad believe Valon more. It would've been easier to put on a confused face, or dismiss it offhandedly if Valon had been so blatantly wrong. But the traitor dragoon's words seemed to stick with Rudolf almost as much as they did to Galahad. There was something deeper beneath the surface. But it didn't take a genius to see that Rudolf was being backed into a corner and lashing out as a result. Taking the dagger-somewhat awkwardly into his sling-bound hand, Galahad examined the blade for a moment, as though checking its craftsmanship. With a casual flip that may have brought a wince to his eye, Galahad caught the weapon by the blade and offered the hilt back to the young Rudolf.

”I don't know why people continue to insist on calling me that, other than the fact that it flows off the tongue better than ‘Lord Galahad, Knight of the Crown’. I've not been a Caradoc since before we'd met- if only by a few days, and I dare imagine my father would take none too kindly to you and the other Kirins referring to me as such.” Galahad remarked, giving a slight push to the spear and releasing it, so he could rest his now free hand– and weight on the railing proper, with a slight grunt of discomfort.

”…What?”

At that revelation, the younger man stiffened, incapable of completely hiding the icy shock that rushed through him. Both armaments returned to his hands, he needed an extra step to catch himself, staggered less by the push and more by the sudden jam of the gears of his mind.

”Well, regardless. My father may have stripped my name from me, but my achievements and titles are granted by the King and mine hand alone.”

His own father.

For what?

Rudolf had been a disappointment, a coward, and a weakling, but even then it had been his nearly taking Otto’s head off and revealing that blackened, occult flame that earned his exile, and no less— what could Galahad, a prodigy, a war hero, the pride and joy and stalwart defender of his entire city… What could he have done to deserve the same?

”Allow me to make something abundantly clear, young hunter of Sagramore.” Galahad sighed, his calm to Rudolf's brimstone not unlike water to fire. ”I couldn’t care less about your parentage, and I'd be a hypocrite if I did. So long as they're not going to start hunting us down– Etro knows we have enough people doing such as it is– I'll call you by whatever name you prefer.”

“… They won’t. If Otto’s still telling people that the middle son is deathly ill, then… I’ve no reason to believe anyone’s mind has changed. You are a Knight of the Crown. I am Sagramori Auxilia. We claim no more of ourselves.”

”You may still call me Caradoc if you wish, I suppose it does flow much better, after hearing you say it.” Galahad chuckled, ”Perhaps it is a bit petty on my part, and maybe just a bit spiteful, but I don’t care much for my father’s opinion these days.” Galahad was silent for a moment longer, glancing out over the dark seas and the starry skies above them. It was surprisingly peaceful, despite the ordeals they'd been through. If it weren't for the fact that the crew were still putting out problems on the ship, it'd been an otherwise perfect night.

Rudolf could offer no counter to that, still reeling from the casualness of it all. Pettiness and spite... was he referring to being cast from his name and family, or just an argument across the dinner table? He followed Galahad's gaze out to sea, a thousand dead questions never making it past his teeth.

"..."

”In truth, Rudolf, perhaps I owe you an apology. I still wonder about that strange shadow that possessed you- or that you possessed, and in truth, I still do not trust it. But you've proven enough to me that I should at least trust your actions. I'm unsure if it would've killed us- especially if that insane mystrel had anything to say about it, but you saved Izayoi and myself earlier today, and I am grateful.”

“…I did what I could. That’s all.” he replied numbly as he found his voice once more, knife returning to its sheath on his hip through muscle memory as much as any conscious thought. The same could be said when he, after what felt like a year, averted his stunned expression to regard the spear in his hands, brandishing it to test heft, dimension, the feeling. ”If she’d gotten ahold of either of you…”

He winced, then stepped to the side and brought the spear’s head down, a warding slash that cut through the Naga’s shadow in his mind’s eye, no further from Galahad than she’d been to him beneath the waves.

”We may well have lost then and there, even if you didn’t die. If I didn’t have the second voice inside… You might have been up here alone tonight. I couldn’t let that happen to you, or her.”

”Well, now you have more than just a knife.” Galahad said simply, a faint glimmer in his eye as he watched the way Rudolf swung the weapon. His suspicions had been all but confirmed, but Galahad left well enough alone. He decided to leave the point about the ‘second voice’ alone as well. It more or less fell into the ‘deal with it later’ camp of ideas.

A grim point was made on the inside. The faint ghost of a humorless smile cracked upon his face, even as he spun the haft back up to rest upon his shoulder.

”Though, I suppose this makes all three of us with no family to return ourselves to now. But nevertheless.”

”In a way, I like to think it makes us more free. Our families are who we choose them to be now.” Galahad said softly, a faint smile on his lips.

”Now, be a good lad and help a crippled man get back inside before the white mage yells at me. My legs haven't finished healing either and I can hardly walk without the spear. See, this is what I meant by inconvenient.”

Rudolf, to his credit, needed little explanation after the ‘Neve yelling’ idea entered the picture. His own encounter with the force of her personality was still fresh in the mind— even though it seemed an eternity ago, after the day’s trials. Dutifully, he took Galahad’s unslung arm over his shoulders and hiked a large portion of his weight onto them, nodding as they began to walk forward.

A beat between the two weathered Edreni fighters passed, broken only by the odd tempo of their staggered footfalls, then…

”Not that you will, but just saying… if you use what you’ve learned here against me, I’m telling Wulf about this.” he needled.

”What’ll Wulfric do? Boast at me to death? Ah… Perhaps that would be more effective than I expect.”

Between Esben's entirely truthful chicanery, Rudolf backing him up, and Galahad's own word as a dignitary of an entirely separate nation, it was evident the guard sergeant was entirely out of his depth. To say nothing of the godsdamned minigun pointed in their direction. The Dranan guards stiffened, looking furious while also taking care to not make any threatening moves.

Meanwhile, a bead of sweat ran down their sergeant's face at all of the separate pressures coming his way right this second. He kept his spear pointed straight up towards the sky, sucking his teeth in as he tried to consider a way to finagle his men out of this situation while also still doing their jobs.

Around them, various residents and passerby of the harbor began to take notice of the standoff, murmuring and whispering among themselves as they noticed a group of guardsmen being supposedly held up by a massive gun.

"Th' hell's going on now? Bandits?"
"Dressed a bit too well for that, aren't they?"
"Who cares? I just like seeing those tin clowns sweat."

"...How about a compromise, then?" The sergeant furrowed his brow, mind going a mile a minute to try to bullshit his way out of this while saving face. "Remain within city limits for the night. We will arrange for a boat to take you upriver to Brightlam and escort you to it in the morning."

Before anyone could respond to that, Neve stepped forward, gently pushing Eliane's minigun barrels down, nodding her head in agreement.

”It was inevitable that we would have had to see the Grovemasters. This is acceptable.”

Izayoi frowned, but shifted slightly, her hand removing itself from her sword's hilt underneath her cloak.

"This is your homeland. We can hardly gainsay you on this matter. I suppose speaking to your people's leadership would be our best course of action. Miina, you've stated you were familiar with this city, can you recommend an inn-"

The samurai turned to where she presumed their red mage would be, only to find her fellow mystrel seemingly absent.

"...Did we somehow lose her in the twenty paces between here and the ship? Imir take me, 'tis like herding coeurls!" She snarled, turning to stalk into the harbor proper.

"Miina mentioned she had enemies within this city. We should search for her, but not without a central base to regroup at first. You," She jammed a finger back towards the sergeant. "Where is the nearest church?"

"Er...there's only a chapel within the harbor itself. You want a proper church, you'll have to go out of the port and into the city. Six streets down to the west, make a left, it'll be on your right."

"Understood. Find us there tomorrow morning, then."

"While you're all on that, I'll go look for supplies, kupo." Goug raised a fuzzy paw from the back, where the caravan and chocobos had finished unloading from the ship. "Any of you mind watching the birds? That, and some of you ought to be resupplying yourselves, kupo." His pom-pom twitched in Rudolf's direction.

___

Elsewhere, Miina would eventually find herself ashore some distance away in the harbor, soaking wet. The streets in this area would be familiar enough. Though as she started to pass through them, a very recognizable voice would call out to her.

"That outfit...young lady!" Somehow, Cid was here. Within the walls of the harbor's sole small chapel, dusting the front steps. But here nonetheless. He blinked, seeing Miina. "I wasn't mistaken after all. But where are your companions? And you're soaking wet! This will not do. Come inside, you can dry up within the chapel. And don't look so surprised. I did say I was bound to the Mothercrystal's holy ground. That meant all of it."

@Raineh Daze

@The Otter@Psyker Landshark

Primly, crisply, dutifully, the young platinum-haired lad inclined his head as he turned to Esben once more, after the tense drawing of lines in the sand had passed.

"If such arrangements are amenable, sir, I shall be returning to my duties. With Mister Goug at leave to resupply, I believe I'm best suited to overlooking my, ah, fellow beasts of burden as it were. Do enjoy this day of shore leave in my stead— should you need me, I'm but a holler away. Provided you can't find me and the birds already, of course. Feisty, fussy animals..." he intoned, before stiffly marching towards the ship once more. They'd avoided disaster more narrowly than they'd needed to once the damned minigun had come out, and now Miina had vanished, seemingly with the wind itself. It was lucky that they'd likely not noticed her among the taller and louder bodies confronting them, but he wasn't about to push their luck any further—

At the very least, he personally had none to spare. Generalship of the group's as a whole wasn't worth risking. They had a story that'd been accepted enough to buy them until the next morning, at least. He'd keep that alibi thoroughly believable. He didn't trust the Kirins to be out of the woods quite yet. They were ostentatious, flashy newcomers that'd just thrown their weight around in plain view on the docks. Sending the local authorities packing with a compromise at the end of a half-dozen gun barrels sent a message— one that everyone who'd seen the commotion was liable to receive in their own way, good or bad.

Feigning a put-upon sigh as he drew even with their trusty Moogle, and the curiously warking bouquet of silver and yellow Chocobos in tow, he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating posse of guards before speaking in undertone, wagering them out of earshot.

Maybe that chat with Galahad was still fresh in his mind and driving this, but he had to try and keep what he could of this story straight until people got bored of them.

"I'll sell this 'manservant' thing for a couple hours until we're under a bit less scrutiny, then I'll get going, as you say. Push comes to shove, I'll still have the spear that Dragoon left us— won't be completely helpless if there's trouble. Until then, I may as well buy you a bit of time and make this stick."

"Eh?" Miina looked… well, flummoxed. Hm, that really was a helpful ability… if it wasn't for the restrictions that no doubt came with it. Still, she had no reason to turn him down, and it wasn't like anybody was going to go looking for her in erligious ground if they even knew that she was in the area… it hadn't exactly been something she'd goo looking for. Was it possible that Cid had been here before? She didn't really know.

"Th-Thanks." With that, she followed inside and… well, she could dry herself easily enough, but standing around in her clothes… yeah, that would attract more attention, and she ought to get them cleaned up. It was also warm enough for her more normal attire!

Not that she waited for Cid to look away. If he did, that was up to him, why should she care? It was just changing clothes.

@Raineh Daze

At some point over the course of the day, both Rudolf and Izayoi found themselves within the small chapel that had been pointed out to them by the guard, conveniently finding Miina conversing with Cid of all people. With that initial hurdle out of the way, Izayoi approached Rudolf while the former two conversed.

”Boy,” She intoned neutrally. ”With everything that had happened, I never did thank you for saving my life in the desert. Without your intervention, I would surely have died that day. To a man I’d already killed once already, at that. So, thank you.” Izayoi gave a formal bow, her hands at her sides, back straight.

It hadn’t been terribly long since he’d handed the chocobos back off to Goug, and in turn been relieved of the somewhat necessary sun exposure that came with the birdsitting— while he’d reassured the Moogle he did indeed intend to arm himself anew before they shipped off at first light tomorrow, he couldn’t deny that he wanted a second in some damned shade first. The chapel was sure to at least offer that much respite, and beyond that immediately provide him some geographical mooring in the new, unfamiliar city. Better to know where he meant to return to before setting off.

His eyebrows rose.

While Cid’s reappearance across the vast distance between this small chapel and the underground temple they’d met him at was already surprise, before he could even insert himself into a fitting point of their back and forth to ask the billion questions brewing on his mind about it he’d been blindsided from another direction— with Izayoi, of all people, bowing stiffly before him.

It had been long enough since that, aside from the brief allusions to it by those on the ship that cared to bring that day up, he had begun to believe the moment lost in the swirl of their quest. They would be bound to all save each others’ lives many times over, before the work was done, he’d reasoned, and all proper thanks would be paid in a return of the favor, sooner or later. Faced with actual thanks now, he needed a second to reorient.

He nodded, letting his face settle into an expression that was a little more composed, and replied.

“Truthfully, I’m just glad I got there in time. Once you incurred the rebound from that technique of yours, each moment was so much of a rush I’d been lost in the instinct of it all. I was hardly thinking.” he offered a shrug before folding his arms as he leaned against the archway that lead into the small arrangement of pews. “And saying that, I realize I never thanked you for saving our lives just moments before. Call it a draw?”

He hated leaving hanging debts, after all. It wouldn’t shock him if Izayoi was the same— and that was one explanation for the stiffness of her thanks.

That, or she just wasn’t familiar with giving them. He wasn’t far removed there either, in that case.

”Very well.” Unbeknownst to Rudolf, he wasn’t far off the mark. In that both of his assumptions were correct. Izayoi had never been the one needing to be saved since she was a young girl. From the moment she’d struck off on her own, she’d been the one doing the saving. Hence, this wasn’t a situation she was familiar with.

”In any case, I say this to reinforce that I’ve no ill intent towards you. But that traitor dragoon at sea did state something I found curious.” She gave Rudolf not so much a hostile stare as an unamused one.

”Did you honestly believe that any Osprean commander fighting on the southern front wouldn’t recognize the name Shilage?”

The young man closed his eyes, and a deep breath through the nose covered up the lead ball that had suddenly been plunged into his stomach. His fingertips pulled against his bicep, grip tight, mirroring the sudden pressure through his brow, through his jaw. He’d let his guard down for a second. One.

And it was me you were scared of revealing. How funny these things shake out, huh?

And now, what was almost the worst case scenario had been thrust into his day. As she’d said, she didn’t hide an intent to gut him with that… just one to force him into this conversation again. One his heart told him he wouldn’t get the same ending he’d pulled out of Galahad for.

He met her gaze after a moment, meeting her pointed lack of hostility with less wariness in turn—

”As I’ve heard it told, the old bastard gave plenty of reasons to the contrary during his campaign. No. Not for a second would I believe that. It was why I was surprised when Galahad beat you to the punch.”

But he was no more amused, eyes narrowing and firming. While their dragoon’s words still lived in his mind, and lived with a fair weight, his stance was still hard as ever— concealment was not the only reason he’d introduced himself the way he did.

”And as I’ve already told him, that traitor dragoon doesn’t know what he says. I am no Shilage. I’ve no right or tie to that name. I do not bear it, I do not claim it.”

”I’m sure.” Izayoi replied dryly, her expression indicating she didn’t believe him in the slightest. ”Not at the moment, to be certain. But at some point in time?” She cocked her head. Well. It explained the manners, at least.

”You were hiding the matter with Esben, as well. So this wasn’t a lie concocted in fear of my reaction. Disowned, then.” She shook her head. Between Galahad and now this, how certain people could simply turn their children’s claim to family into mud was beyond her. She couldn’t even conceive of doing that to Suzume, short of her having done something unthinkable.

”It matters not, in any case.” She concluded, shrugging her shoulders. ”Your family’s affairs are hardly pertinent to our quest. If you wish to be Sagramore, then Sagramore you shall be. We were always going to have needed to avoid Shilage lands, lest it end in bloodshed between myself and the local lord.” Izayoi trailed off, a thought coming to her head. Was it…? Well, she hardly remembered. It had been five years, after all.

”Were you the youngest? I once signed off on orders to attempt to abduct you during the war, in that case. It was one of the only ones that failed.”

”None of your—” he began to heatedly retort, before his mind caught up with his wounded heart and told it just what she’d said.

…Imre?

A flash, somewhere in the depths of his gaze. Himstus upon him, a scarlet blaze interwoven with black pitch. In spite of his insistence that he had nothing to do with them, he was as Esben had learned on the masts days ago— good at concealing those subconscious reactions, but not quite perfect.

His knife. Was his knife still sheathed?

Yeah, his hands were free. But tense. And his left had drifted closer to it. He held it still.

“...Checking the old warhorse’s rampage by holding a hostage in his face. I see… With that one, maybe there was a chance.” he spelled out, a half-step further away after he’d stopped languidly propping himself against the architecture. Even in using the logic to recenter his emotional control, he couldn’t help but think back to that offhand quip he’d made before his spar with Robin— about how right he’d really been.

She had no way of knowing that her failed attempt had been towards the one with a better shot of defending himself to begin with. By that point in their lives, Imre had already been about as tall as Rudolf, and better behind a sword—

And both fair haired, sharp-featured like their mother.

Had he not been sent away to the southwest, just how close would the odds have been that he wouldn’t have been the one her agents had gone after, even if only by mistaken identity?

He swallowed, pale and chilled in spite of the tropical locale. And even if that had not come to pass, how close had his brother come to such a nightmare while he was away? While he could do nothing?

”...It wouldn’t have been me. Depending on the time you did this, I could have been practically Edren’s entire breadth from their holdings.” he said, searching her warily with his eyes. “Unable to do anything about it. I should be glad you failed either way, I suppose.”

Perhaps understandably, he had little relief in him to show on the face.

His left hand, dangling at the side, slowly curled into a fist. Not a white-knuckled ball, but… as though grasping for something that wasn’t there, and holding the void where it should have been.

”Framing it as we have… why do you tell me this, Izayoi? I don’t imagine you intend me to act upon this knowledge. Not at this point.”

”Merely making doubly sure of your identity.” Izayoi noted Rudolf’s reaction, seeming relatively unconcerned at his hand drifting towards his knife. ”That sort of reaction isn’t something one fakes on command without being a very good liar. Better you hear it from myself than from Istvan Shilage.”

“There is another I should hear it from, but… yes. You’re right. Better you than he.” he muttered, cold and bitter, as his business reordered itself in several ways. ”Seeing the opportunities I had to ensure otherwise, I’m sure you still drawing breath would be a contentious point.”

She looked away from the conversation and up towards the one stained glass panel above the chapel’s pulpit. A sigh.

”Of all my regrets, abducting children to force their parents’ hands is one of my greatest. I did my best to ensure none of them came to physical harm, but that can mean little. For what little it is worth, I am glad the attempt on your brother failed.”

He was silent as he took that in. This was different from the way she had thrown it out there when they were all dressing down Ciradyl, that much he couldn’t deny. With her stoic nature, this was likely what true remorse did look like— she’d only ever opened up further than this moment when speaking of her days of parenthood. He had no reason to doubt her regrets, knowing that.

Not to mention…

I seem to recall yours line up quite well. Enough that even though it’s been five years of us, you’ve barely given me five minutes of your time. And only when you need something, at that— It’s like you don’t want me here. Even though all I do is what you ask.

…He had given up his right to demand them, long before this, when he had put a brother of his in even more danger. His eyes did not follow hers towards the stained glass— instead, they drifted over to Cid, still in the midst of his own duties. How much, he wondered, did the old man really know? If Neve could sense the wrongness within him, then surely he could do the same. Which meant…

“Desperation makes monsters of us. I learned as much firsthand. And to accompany that, I don’t believe there’s any more worth about it I have the right to, regardless of want.” he finally said with a huff, turning away from Cid, from Miina, from the chapel. He had come here to take refuge from the outdoor light— hide in the darkness, in other words. His boots striking the floorboards filled the tiny hall as they carried him into the gloom, gathered around the borders of the light that filtered in through the doorway.

…

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at the Wild Dance once more. The shadows seemed to hug his small, tense frame.

“Do you believe that still exists within you? Given our war is now for the sake of the whole world, not just Osprey.” he asked, well aware of the cruelty that was voicing that question. ”Have you changed? Would you make that choice again, if it lies before you once more?”

There was an answer he wanted to hear from her. One he had been betting more than he could suspect on. He couldn’t ignore everything he had slowly been reading out of her, through his perhaps-now-justified fears.

But he needed to know what she saw in herself.

Izayoi drew in a breath, the moral quandary of the question impacting her like a warhammer to the gut. After having given birth to Suzume, would she do that to someone else? Could she?

”I would hope that I could say yes, should it ever come to that.” She said solemnly, meeting Rudolf’s gaze. ”But war makes pragmatists of us all.”

Izayoi didn’t like the answer she found. But at the end of the day, her own quest for revenge was a selfish one. And she would already have gone to nearly any end to slaughter Reisa and whomever actually gave the order to raze Atsu. For a just cause such as averting darkness and oblivion itself?

”Only if the alternative was truly unthinkable. If one child, one life had to be exchanged to stop mass slaughter, extermination, the end of the world itself? My sins are already great. One more would only be a drop in the bucket.”

…There it was.

The answer he received was, as he had suspected, much more realistic than his hopes. A reflection of the bitter truths of the world they were fighting to save— one of compromises, inertia, and broader concerns that demanded the death of the sacrificed ideal.

He held his look a moment longer, that lone spot of gold against his daylight-embossed silhouette not quite disappointed, but… nonetheless troubled, an echo of what he saw in her. Change came from within, and so spoke the only one who could see within the tired mystrel before him. And she'd had titanic reasons beyond herself to do it.

“So it does.” he agreed quietly, meeting her on her first point. “Such is war. I pray we never find out, but…”

He then shrugged that shoulder, turning away as he loosed a solemn breath his own.

“Your sins and mine differ, I'll say that much. But I think our limits are the same, at least somewhat— My ‘unthinkable alternative’ was letting those around you mourn you a second time, when I could still do something. But perhaps I’ve also changed less than I’d like, even in saying that. More and more, I’ve been made to consider it. Putting drops into my own bucket. Not even for pragmatism’s sake.”

It really did feel insurmountable, didn't it? Overcoming yourself completely.

There, then, he could start. At what was Pragmatic. Necessary. Let the logic and calculus of the situation guide him to Control. It was better, at least, than giving up. The way he had surrendered himself so often before. Five years had lead her to that answer.

... In this world, perhaps that was already the most fate would allow.

Was there any real way to know, before it put you there?

He began to walk forward once more, his course set towards arming himself. War demanded weaponry, and information. He now knew he had a critical lack in both. Blacksmith, then postage, once he stepped into the light once more.

“You’ve given me perspective and honesty, Furuya Izayoi. For that, you do have my thanks… And my hopes as well. I’ll be back by dusk.”

With that, he was gone.

The old priest gave an amused huff as he politely turned away as Miina began to change clothes.

"Really now," He chided in jest, setting his broom aside. "Youth these days." Cid chortled, waiting patiently for Miina to give any indication of being done before turning around.

"At least you won't catch cold now, being out of those waterlogged robes. The hat was an inspired touch, though. In any case," He glanced to the side, where Izayoi and Rudolf had entered, conversing. "It seems your companions have caught up with you. How have you all fared since leaving the temple? I admit, it was touch-and-go on my end for a moment. Ifrit remains...rather unhappy about the whole affair. I admit, neither of us anticipated that armored monstrosity to be able to give him such a sound thrashing."

"And what did cause all this wetness to begin with? Took a dip in the harbor, did we?" He gave an indulgent smile, like a teasing grandfather.

The mystrel's face immediately went as red as her hair, and she began avoiding eye contact… well, more than normal, at least. And… Izayoi and Rudolf were here, which would make explaining so much more awkward. At least, explaining to Izayoi? She thought that Rudolf might have a better idea of the sort of people she had associated with before… although he probably hadn't guessed tha tshe'd done all that much wrong, probably? Possibly. She wasn't the best at estimating what anyone else might know, and who might react worse…

Obviously, Robin would be the most upset at her, there was no getting around that. And that was a shame, because now she knew… maybe boyish girls weren't that unappealing after all? Or at least ones that could pull off such a noble aura so well. It was a shame she wasn't taller.

"Um… y-yeah, th-that was it, j-just slipped in, ahahahahah..."

Once Rudolf had taken his leave, Izayoi took the opportunity to kneel in the pews and pray while Cid and Miina conversed. For his part, Cid didn’t push Miina too much farther, simply taking Miina’s answer at face value with a knowing glint in his eye.

”Well, you have free reign to line your clothes up and dry them, though you’ll likely have to find an inn for the night. I would offer shelter, but this chapel is rather small, lest you find the idea of sleeping on hard stone appealing. But I’ll leave you for now, child. A good bit of the exterior still requires a touchup.”

He strode off, whistling a cheerful tune while Izayoi finished her brief prayers, rising.

Miina dithered for a little bit, uncertain about approaching Izayoi given how she had just run away from the ship like that. Maybe it would all be fine, since they had met up now… or maybe the older Mystrel would demand an explanation on the spot, and she hadn't come up with anything yet except the truth. That still felt like a very bad thing to lead with.

But… this was an opportunity. Something that Izayoi had pulled off during the battle on the ship seemed frankly unbelievable; how could a single woman split the sea？Miina had almost convinced herself that she'd simply dreamt that part.

Having taken Cid's advice and laid out her damp clothing, Miina finally slunk over as quietly as she could. “Umm… d-did you r-really cut open the sea?”

Izayoi glanced behind her, an eyebrow raised. Of course. She sighed. The one time the spell she’d invented as a youth had been actually useful for a change, and she finds herself held at arm’s length over a fool girl’s joke of a technique.

”It truly is not quite as impressive as the results make it appear to be. My master rightfully derided the technique as borderline useless when first I demonstrated it to him. Any fool with a working knowledge of materia theory and thirty seconds to spare in the midst of battle could achieve the same result. What happened at sea was one of the only situations where it had any sort of use, and I still required far too long to prepare the technique.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, lost in memories of nearly two decades past.

”That’s all?” Her master raised his thumb and forefinger to pinch his brow in irritation upon seeing the fifteen-year old Mystrel complete her attack. ”And tell me, where would you find the time to complete the counter-rotations in the heat of battle? You cannot shorten the materia channeling any further without shattering it, and focusing on invoking two magics at once unavoidably taxes your body. Useless, unless your foe is either blind and deaf or half a mile away. Cease wasting your time in the middle of the night and actually sleep, girl.”

Izayoi opened her eyes once more, turning to Miina. ”Simply put, even with absolute mastery of materia, there is no way to eke out additional power to shorten the process of creating a localized hurricane with both Aero and Haste. I suspect that Eve could do the same with wind alone through sheer magical power-” She cut herself off, considering Miina and staring intently at the girl. Well. That was a possibility, wasn’t it?

“Oh… s-so it’s not a sword t-technique?” Miina questioned, head tilting. She thought that Izayoi had maybe just cut through the sea entirely… but, really, using materia made far more sense, although it wasn’t something that she would have ever thought to do. Combining two contradictory magics, using magic meant for enhancement on an offensive spell? Most combinations would be quite pointless… but it was quite an impressive way to make a localised hurricane. A shame that she didn’t have two materia like that to play around with, if it came to it.

“W-Wouldn’t something like t-t-that be useful when airships are involved? Even w-with thirty seconds…” That was her second thought, that Izayoi was really understating the utility of localised weather phenomena when they’d already shown issues with running into Valheimr opposition that strained what a small group could reasonably damage. At least, without Eve maybe pulling something like this out.

Izayoi let out an amused huff as she regarded Miina, shrugging.

”Against a lone airship that’s not deployed any sort of support, perhaps. The magic does not hold together long, however. By the time it would impact an airship, much of its force would have dissipated already. This all said,”

Her expression turned somewhat serious once more as she folded her arms, glancing down at the shorter woman.

”You could cast both of the requisite spells naturally, yes? Perhaps you can take this technique and actually make something of it. I would not be averse to teaching you its mechanics if you wish.”

“Um… y-yeah, but I’ve never c-c-cast two things at once,” Miina said, nodding along. She knew the individual components, yes, but the idea of trying to focus on holding two spells together at once… she’d say it was completely impossible, but if they were such diametrically different processes as white and black magic, she could imagine it would be easier to make an attempt? Catastrophic interference was still a risk, and the backlash for failure would be unavoidably focused entirely within her body… but the effort of will would be much lower than trying to cast two distinct spells of the same approach at once.

“I d-don’t think I should s-start with a hurricane, eheh… b-but I’d be happy to learn!” Oh, she’d rather it have been swordsmanship, that required a lot more closeness… but their swords were very different. And she’d probably be less distracted this way, which was… definitely a good idea if internal damage was a risk. Hm, if only there was some way to make it easier… “D-Do you think I c-could borrow one of th-those materia…?”

Only one, because she still needed to learn how to cast the second spell while channelling the mana for its opposite number, but it would be much less to focus on at once… and she didn’t want to get too distracted, she was already having ideas about what you could maybe do to someone else’s magic this way, Slow in particular.

Izayoi nodded, reaching up to her left gauntlet and popping her Time materia out of its socket. With both Ciradyl and Neve around to throw around enhancement magics, it wasn’t as if she needed her own, worse Haste for herself at the moment, lest she wind up separated from the others. The only other one of her techniques she actually required the materia for was her masterstroke, and considering what happened a week ago, Izayoi wasn’t exactly eager to utilize the arte again for now.

”As it stands, leaving the city will be more trouble than it's worth, and it would be foolish to practice this in a populated area. We can begin with theory, if you require time to become used to the spellwork.” She placed the green orb into Miina’s palm.

“Wh-Why would leaving be t-trouble…?” Miina asked. That… hmm, she could see why people might not want her to leave, but… it wasn’t like they would do much if she vanished properly, and it wasn’t like getting out of Costa del Sol would be too hard, and Izayoi could definitely follow her even through the more obscure paths…

That aside, the younger Mystrel couldn’t help but find her attention drawn to the materia. These things… they were still so odd to her. Obviously, her brother had managed to find a couple before he had to leave home for good, so she’d had plenty of time to get used to them, but… it felt so strange that magic could be compacted like this. Normally, she’d only make use of them if she couldn’t think of any other way to leave a sticky situation, and she was pretty sure the other one was just a confidence boost more than anything useful. But this? This was something that she’d had to spend so much time learning and practising.

And it was a tiny little orb anybody could mess with. Miina wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not.

”You missed the excitement when you were…really, what were you doing?” Izayoi sighed slightly, just barely managing to keep the exasperation from her voice..

”It isn’t anything that has you endangered, is it? Keep your secrets otherwise. But the local guard had an eye out for Neve. Apparently, her teachers are none too happy about slipping the leash from them. And given that they lead this country, we would have had to speak to them at some point regardless. So we negotiated a deal: the guards will arrange transport to the capital for us tomorrow, so long as we stay within city limits.”

Miina blinked, then said the first thing that came to mind, “Oh, th-they weren’t there f-for me?”

…

Why did she say that?

This time, Izayoi's much louder sigh was punctuated by her pinching the bridge of her nose.

---

Well, at the very least it seemed an immediate conflict would be avoided. All things considered, this was probably one of the better outcomes that could’ve been afforded them. Not to mention, some much needed downtime to restock and recuperate- thankfully on solid ground for that matter. The group of them began to slowly disperse for the day, each tending to their own needs as necessary. Glancing down at his own gear, Galahad frowned. He was in need of some repairs- and an Edren smith was not exactly in the cards. Luckily, he’d been to Drana Asnaeu once or twice before- mostly as a part of diplomatic duties, and knew a few places that could provide quality similar to that of Edren’s smiths. Lucky it was, that one of them did business within Costa Del Sol.

Looking up at those that were slower to disperse, Galahad called out to the steady swordsman, ”Arton.” He said, glancing over Arton’s equipment as he did. ”I know a smith in the area that I intend to visit. If any of your gear is in need of repair or refresh, I’d invite you to join me.”

”I appreciate the offer. There are some repairs and adjustments I need that require a proper smithy.” His voice was somewhat hoarse, if any little strained. A full, simple metal helmet covers the entirety of his features, allowing just his eyes to be seen with the right angle. The rest of the swordsman was covered in a tailored, direct mix of plate, mail, and hardened leather. It would be as hot as it was heavy.

”I'm surprised we didn't have any heat stroke incidents.” Galahad commented as he regarded Arton's armor. ”From you or I both. My armor was designed for fighting in the frigid mountains, and yours seems to lack a lot of ventilation.”

”Are you unwell, Arton?“ Galahad inquired as the two made their way down the streets of Costa Del Sol, the Dragoon informed enough to lead the way without need for direction. ”I would've thought Neve would've seen to you before the others.”

Arton’s mind returned to the conversation with Neve a few nights prior when Galahad brought up his armor’s seemingly air-tight construction. He had made it so and packed it with whatever could absorb the stench that came from the blighted parts of his body. ”I admit that it feels like I could swim in my armor after an intense fight.” He chuckled.

Arton paused for a moment at his question and nodded. ”She did come to see me shortly after we all boarded the ship together. I’ll tell you more after we get done with the smith.” The secrets he had been keeping were quickly coming to a head now. Galahad had a lot on his plate, but Arton knew it was time to let him know.

The forge in particular was unnamed, bearing no sign that otherwise denoted it's name, though the sound of constant hammerblows within the premise led them to believe that the Smith within saw no small amount of business. The Smith in question was a rather bulky and stocky Faye that went by the name of ‘Dirk’. Barely taller than the two Sollans that approached him, only his pointed ears marked him as a man of Faye origins. The Bulky Faye fixed them with a glance as the two approached. ”I've not seen a Dragoon cross my threshold in some time. Far from home aren't ye, Edreni? “

”More than you know,“ Galahad admitted, already beginning the process of removing the damaged parts of his armor. ”Most of the smaller dents I can live with, though my companion and I would have you see to some of our more worn and damaged armor.” Galahad requested, nodding to Arton as he did. He placed a bag of coins on the counter, mostly looted currency from Mizutane's mansion, though some small amount of Edreni Gil as well. ”This ought cover the costs of repair, and the rush as well. We'd like this to be done by the end of the day.”

The familiar acrid smells that came from the forge hit Arton with a sense of Nostalgia. It was in a forge just like this one in which his master had worked and passed on his knowledge to him. Perhaps it was the nature of cranky, old smiths to reside in such workshops.

Arton took his place a bit behind Galahad, letting him handle their business. It came as a surprise when the dragoon handed over a considerable sized pouch of coins. It was beyond generous. He wanted to voice his objection but one look at Galahad’s expression was enough to understand that would get him nowhere.

He removed the armor he needed work on, which included most of his plate, mail, and a few of the hardened leather pieces. Lucky for him the heat and odors from the forge covered up what smell there might have been from him. The same could not be said for the exposed skin left behind by the gaps in his armor.

Come, Arton, let us give this man his space.”

There was a small closed off yard within the smithy, meant for those to wait or test out the fit of their armor. A sparsely decorated little area, clad with young or dying grasses and a small pond, a single tree dominating the corner of the rest area. There was a single round table for seating, with a few stumps to serve as stools.

”Arton. Your arm. What has happened to you?“ Galahad asked plainly, with just a hint of wariness. It seemed that Rudolf was not the only one he needed to keep an eye on, though at this rate Galahad might have needed at least three more pairs of eyes. It was becoming almost routine at this point; another day another curse.

”Neve said something similar when she noticed too.” Arton first replied, walking over to a wooden stool before taking a seat. His gaze turned to the entrances to the yard before he began to unravel the heavy linen and leather that wrapped his left arm. Clear of the fumes and heat of the smithy, the scent was one that Galahad couldn’t mistake. ”I’ve been meaning to tell you…all of you. A few days prior to the king’s summons I was fighting blight beasts on the outskirts of a village. One of them managed to clamp its teeth on my shoulder. Guess that must have been when I got infected.” Arton looked at him with a steadfast look. If only that were everything.

”Etro above.“ Galahad swore, his face scrunching as the scent hit his nostrils. ”Pardon my language, but what the fuck?“ Ironically, despite his reaction, Galahad couldn't help but feel a small amount of relief, it was an injury, a grievous one to be sure, but not some dark spirits or Valhiemr experimentation. Or at least, he hoped so. ”Neve wasn't able to take care of that for you? What is the nature of such an injury?”

Perhaps it was lucky for them that they were in Drana Asnaeu, even if Neve couldn't heal him, chances were someone in this place would be able to, or at least know more about it.

Arton couldn’t help but stifle a weary laugh at Galahad’s reaction. He knew it was a serious issue but perhaps the talk with Neve had allowed him to somewhat come to terms with his situation. ”Trust me, I’m aware.” That brief moment of laughter soon died out with the question that came next. He shook his head as his expression grew serious. ”There was nothing she could do. As for its nature….” His hands reached down and slid a silver necklace over his head and held it out by its chain. A purple gem that was dulled and cracked hung from it.

”This was a materia I received from my master before I set out. It's supposed to increase one’s vitality. I have reason to suspect it's the only reason I’m alive right now.” He took a moment to catch his breath, gauging his friend’s reaction. ”I rarely sleep, Galahad. I find myself prone to anger. Worse yet, the moment a blightbeast enters a certain range around me the afflicted areas burn with pain.” Arton was on a death march, plain and simple.

Galahad frowned, his previous high hopes quickly dashed as he regarded the cracked materia. It didn’t seem like it was capable of providing magic anymore, more or less just a cracked bauble. The ramifications of Arton’s words were also not entirely lost on him.

”How quickly is it spreading?” Galahad asked quietly. What manner of curse or affliction was such a wound? Galahad found it hard to believe that a plain blightbeast was capable of causing such destruction- he himself had been bitten but a day into their journey. Though, with how unknown the Blight was, it stood to reason that there was a possibility of special types of infections or diseases. ”I don’t mean to sound morbid, but how much time do you predict you have left? We are in a land of healers after all, I don’t think any in the party would begrudge you if you sought out a more advanced healer- no offense intended to our dear Neve, of course.”

”Hard to say. I think…a month. Without the materia, it's definitely spreading faster. Its been on my mind since Neve talked to me. Apparently she met someone pretty skilled on her way. Perhaps she will be able to help.” If anything, he had to seek out someone or anything that could cleanse this blight from him. He knew Neve would never forgive herself if he were to perish from this. That was something he didn’t want lingering over his afterlife.

”I hate to change the subject, but there is something else I wanted to bring up to you.” Arton made sure the coast was clear before he recalled the ambush that took his parents’ lives to Galahad, about the mysterious rogue agent that orchestrated it, and how they ran off with his dear friend. It was easy to convey the details as the same nightmare had been plaguing his blight-ridden dreams every night. ”I have reason to suspect that Furi and Reisa are one and the same.”. He at last concluded, a dire look in his eyes.

”Are you certain?” Galahad asked, ”Reisa is the one that murdered Izayoi’s loved ones, if I recall correctly. For them to be the same person… Either your Furi has always been a Valheim operative- or turned soon after you lost track of them. Have you told Izayoi?”

”Not yet. We were only eight when we were separated. They must have done something to her, but I am certain she is the Furi I once knew. The gods know she haunts my dreams enough.” He sighed, his fingers running through his mess of dark brown hair. ”No matter what, she is responsible for countless deaths. I do not think Izayoi would suffer us to question her if we got the chance.”

”No, I imagine she would not.” Galahad nodded in agreement.”Izayoi seems to have few goals left- Killing Reisa seems to be one of them.”

Truth be told, Arton wasn’t sure what he even intended to do with Reisa. Countless years he imagined all the ways he would stumble upon her at long last and save her from whatever fate she had fallen into. Now it was less clear what he should do. Regardless of what he decided, he needed to at least ask her what happened. What events led her to become this twisted version of herself.

”Quite the conundrum we find ourselves in.” Galahad sighed, ”Still, I thank you for your frankness with all of this. Well. One step at a time. First let us figure out this how we’ll deal with this affliction of yours, then we can figure out how to stop Izayoi from killing Reisa- Furi, long enough for you to talk to her.”

”I feel as though finding a cure is the easier of the two. I appreciate it, Galahad. I plan on telling the rest next time we’re all together. It's about time I stop running.” He implied in his tone that he was speaking of much more than the blight. A light smirk crossed his lips. ”Say, that coin cover enough for a full plate to be made?” It might have been an odd change of topic but it was something he had been interested in.

”You’re not perhaps trying to take advantage of my generosity, are you now, Arton?.” Galahad chuckled, ”Though I suppose your gear could do with an update- especially with the trials we will no doubt face in the coming weeks. Come, we ought tell the blacksmith before he gets too deep into his work.”,

”I would never.” He laughed along with Galahad. ”Yeah, I have some designs I want to show him. I just hope he can make it to spec.” Arton nearly lost himself in the passion of his craft before catching himself. ”Galahad, thanks for hearing me out.” It felt as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"There you are, Miina!"

To say it had been a little concerning when she didn't see the red mage on their departure from the boat would be a lie. While she wasn't defenseless, she had the feeling of the sort of person who got swept up in crowds and vanished easily. This was probably because she was just that short, really.

It was something of a relief to see her alright.

Robin had headed for the chapel pretty quickly, mostly in hopes that the other girl would have found her way there as well. Naturally, it was a relief that she hadn't had to go searching.

But even more than that---

"Cid!?"

She hadn't expected to see him after they left him in the desert! She'd hoped he was alright, of course, she was never one to let negative possibilities defeat her hopes.

But the fact she actually saw him right here, it was--- Well, it was some sort of spell obviously, but still!

"I'm glad you're alright!"

@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark

---

Esben nodded once, appreciatively, as the sergeant of the patrolling guardsmen decided to bargain with them rather than continuing to pursue his original goal. He nodded again at Rudolf’s words, both for the act and the quieter, truer follow-up. Overall, the situation had gone far better than many might have hoped...even accounting for the threats that were so rapidly delivered in spite of his attempt to smoothly extricate the Kirins from the entire mess.

Some portion of that would have to be addressed; luckily for him, the one he needed to speak to about it had already agreed to do something else for him, and couldn’t well weasel on out of it.

”Do me a favour and leave that with Rudolf, would you, Éliane?” he asked, falling back slightly in the group next to the pink-haired woman. Yet to abandon the act he’d put on for the guards, he gently, but insistently, pushed the rotary cannon’s barrels aside, the ingratiating, mercantile smile still plastered on his face. Whether it was for the benefit of the guards, any others looking on, or some other reason—it was anybody’s guess. ”You heard them, after all. Only a day? You and I can’t waste any time getting to the market, can we?”

Éliane still had a very unamused look on her face. It was mostly still because of the guards, who weren’t quite stupid enough to actually do anything as she visibly thought about Esben’s… request. After all, the big gun seemed to have put the fear of god in them rather than any of the diplomatic threats that any of them had offered.

Lugging around what was still functionally a massive piece of luggage around town didn’t appeal to her either, though. She sighed, breaking her fixation on the guards as she glanced back at Esben. “Fine. The market?”

”Of course! We’ve got things to look for, haven’t we?” With his hand still on the barrels of the gun, he started to pull it and its holder back towards the cart as the guards quickly left their presence entirely. ”Among other things, flour, sugar, cinnamon, yeast, obviously—what else?”

After a quick glance around to make certain that, with the guards leaving, the others in the harbor had ceased to pay them any great attention, his smile dropped entirely. As easily as pulling off a mask, he faced his fellow Skaeller traveller with a flat, expressionless stare. ”It’ll give me some time to talk to you about more important things than pastries, as well. Anything particular you want to track down first?”

Éliane gave an unamused look back at Esben in return, now bereft of heavy weapons. “Okay,” she replied, barely acknowledging his first point. “As long as they have quality ingredients in this place, it shouldn’t matter. But I think it best if we look for the flour and yeast first.” Decision made, she began trooping off in the direction of what looked like the town centre in this almost-tropical paradise.

Esben watched for a moment as she strode away, sighing quietly before he followed. For all that he knew of why Éliane had not continued in the Garden, he hadn't expected that he would have quite so much to account for. Even if it was just an attempt to return to form after all the time they'd had to spend laying low in Kugane, before having to travel with pirates—it was growing more and more obvious that the group could no longer afford to have such shows as they'd just had with the guards.

Even at a fairly relaxed pace, it didn't take much for him to come up beside her again. "Getting awfully warm and wet for all of that, isn't it?" he asked, nodding down at her garb even as he shed his own cloak, tying the corners of it together into a makeshift sack. While it wasn't nearly as hot as their trip into the northern desert had been, the midday sun beat down on them all the same, and if it could get any hotter, or more humid, he'd find it positively stifling. "I'll carry the jacket for you, if you'd like. That way we won't have to worry about washing it before me meet the Grovemasters."

That particular nuance was lost on Éliane. But when wasn’t it? “It is warm,” she agreed, oblivious to the exasperated thoughts in Esben’s head. “But it’s fine. I’ll need to wash it anyway. Most of my clothing reeks of pirate odour and the sea after that voyage.” Still grumbling about the conditions of the pirate ship, she shook her head. “Maybe it’s time to get some new clothes while we are here though,” she continued on. “But ingredients first. Are we going in the right direction, Esben?”

”...”

Esben stared at his pink-haired companion for a moment.

”Éliane, give me your jacket.”

Éliane stared back. “If you insist,” she replied, but still not moving to take off said jacket.

Their stares met at a clear impasse. ”Playing up the circumstances, are we?” he asked after a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side. ”Odd location to expect me to help you get it off.”

“...Do you want your pastries or not?”

”Yes. I’d also like to keep looking after you and the rest, but with a group like ours that keeps proving difficult.”

She gave a skeptical look back at Esben. “What are you getting at?”

Esben closed his eyes and sighed, finally looking away. ”This whole escapade has gotten beyond that initial call that Edren’s king put out, ja? Even after what you all told me happened the night you arrived, certainly after what Cid told us. Valheim has managed to plant its people deep enough to cause problems in Edren, and possibly here as well. Would you say that’s a safe assumption to make?”

She once again stared back at Esben, slightly taken aback by the whiplash from the sudden change in topic. Nonetheless, she considered his words for a moment, and nodded. “Yes, I’d say the scope and scale of the problem was far greater than any of us expected back home. The country needs to mobilise and I’ve written back as much…”

”And we’ve made ourselves known to them, and not particularly pleasantly. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re nearly at the point of putting out bounties on all of our heads.” Meeting her eyes again, he reached out to tug at one of her epaulettes. ”We are distinctive enough without announcing ourselves everywhere we go. I know these last weeks have been frustrating for you, but please keep in mind that we don’t know who may be watching on the enemy’s behalf when you feel the need to introduce yourself like you just did. At least save it for the Grovemasters, not the city guard.”

He let go of her jacket, picking up their pace as they kept walking towards the city center. He could already think of two others in the group he would have to give the same reminder to, as neither Galahad nor Robin were particularly suited to any of the precautions they may have to take—but it was better to start with the one that had some basis in this sort of thought, even if she had decided not to pursue it as a career. ”While it’s always necessary to be prepared for the risk of losing someone else, or worse yet, having to abandon them, I would prefer to avoid that if at all possible. Getting all of you to put in a bit more consideration to how you present yourselves would go a long way for that, I think.”

Éliane sniffed at this. She understood what Esben was afraid of, but she didn’t share his misgivings. “I understand the concern, but I see two problems with that. One, the cat is already out of the bag as you said, Esben.” And Valheim seemed too proud to do anything but continue to pursue them with their own soldiers rather than stoop to bounty hunters. She stared back at Esben. “Two, the entire point of my mission was to show the flag, to let it be seen and known by all that Skael is doing its part. That would include how I present myself.”

”Missions change, no? We already know the cause of the Blight, that could be satisfied as easily as you delivering the news to Leonhart and letting him and our bosses put together a more...mmm, a proper show of force. Things in Kugane already went beyond the expectation of what they sent you up here for.” True to form, whatever protestations Éliane might come up with, he’d already thought up any number of rebuttals. She’d know as well as him that the cat being out of the bag didn’t mean that it was impossible to avoid the recognition, as well.

Of course, he also knew that just as often, such purely logical arguments wouldn’t actually work on people in general, let alone those around him. ”But besides that. Humour me on this, would you? I’d hate to have to bring bad news back to your parents and sister.” He paused, before lightly kicking at the heel of one of her boots.

”I still haven’t gotten you back for putting a hole in my roof, either.”

She looked unamused at this. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, and that does not invalidate the goal of my mission to have Skael be seen,” she countered. “What hole?”

”Remember how I said a woman put her foot through my roof while I was studying in Solitude, and you said whichever lady that was should be more careful? I meant you.” He seemed as unsurprised that she hadn’t ever pieced that together as she was unamused at his points. ”Éliane, I mean it. Skael has been seen in this. We’re past the initial phase of things, and have dipped our toes far deeper into my area of expertise, something that, as much as you may wish otherwise, you are also experienced with.”

Éliane returned an exasperated look. “That goes against my very being,” she responded, strategically overlooking commenting on said alleged roof incident. She folded her arms together. “It won’t matter. Now, flour?”

At this point, they had gotten all the way to the market in the town center and were amongst a crowd of people and stalls filled with various goods and sundry. Éliane of course stood out with the uniform that they had been arguing about, drawing looks from some of the townspeople as she strode up to the first stall with baking ingredients to look at.

Once again, Esben frowned after Éliane as she kept walking along. Stubbornness like hers even in the face of genuine concern was always a difficult wall to try and overcome, especially when she so decisively moved to end the conversation. Anyone accustomed to normal methods of such arguing might be taken aback by such a swift shift—indeed, some of their onlookers were—and were they in Esben’s place, would likely concede the point for the day and try again some other time.

Should he have been speaking to any normal person, Esben may have done the same.

He walked up behind Éliane as she looked over the baking goods that were for sale, swiping his hand and yanking her uniform hat forward and off her head, reaching up at the last second once he was sure the strap had slipped her chin—holding it high before she could try to claw it back. ”Well, at least there is one benefit,” he mused as he inspected the hat in his grasp. ”I’d hate to have to get flour out of my cloak if we had a spill.” When faced with such stubbornness, sometimes the only recourse was to get as ridiculous as the one you were arguing with.

And in Esben’s case, being ready to use both his height and speed to his advantage.

”Of course, I could still be convinced not to use it...”

“What– Hey, give that back!” She immediately protested, reaching for the suddenly snatched hat and taking her away from the main mission at hand.

”Hmm? I don’t see how I should be the only one to sacrifice something for this plan of ours!”

“Do you want arlettes or not?”

The merchant at their stall was certainly bemused at the pair of foreigners arguing their way over her goods, having quickly made the decision not to jump into the middle of whatever talk was going on. ”Would you like your hat back?” Esben asked, calmly, conversationally, as though they weren’t just engrossed in a back-and-forth over possibly life-or-death decisions. ”Just one thing, then.”

“...Yes, Esben.”

He flipped the hat back around, pushing it down on her head. ”Promise me you’ll at least keep everything I’ve said in mind,” he entreated. ”I don’t think your sense for presentation outweighs your sense of duty, if nothing else. Don’t force them hand-in-hand just to make a point.”

Éliane sighed. “I doubt we’ll ever agree on the point of presentation, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Glad to have her hat back, she carefully adjusted the strap again to fit. She knew that her sense of presentation was an old-fashioned sentiment at this point, but while it wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as Robin, she agreed with the other woman to a point. “Morale is made in the fit. Now… Arlettes?”

”In any normal context, I can’t complain about the fit,” came the blond’s entirely straight-faced reply. ”Except for thinking that your hair is too nice to always cover up with that hat.” With his admittedly small victory secured, he turned, looking over the various grades of flour that the merchant before them had presented from the local miller. ”...See anything you can work with?”

She stared back at Esben, before turning back to examine the goods. “Yes, we’ll take this,” she continued, reaching for a sack of flour. Éliane glanced back.

“I only wear my hat outdoors.”

Esben counted out gil from his coinpurse, handing them over to the merchant. ”You’re missing out on natural light that way,” was his quiet reply, facing deeper into the market. ”What’s next?”