The Feather of Absolution - Chapter 9 - LilinaGaming - Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu (2024)

Chapter Text

"Oh, Miss Mareeta, are you in here?" The agonizingly harsh sound of a steel door creaking open accompanied the light that soon overflowed into the room. Within seconds, the rough surface of stairs and a gray stone floor came into view shortly followed by the walls, and then the abandoned cells that lined them. This was the level of the dungeon closest to the surface, and it was obvious that the inside lock of the entrance showed wear. Something was unmistakably different about the room from the last time it had been entered.

As a set of eyes scanned the area, a few traces of drying blood stained the concrete. Dramatic footsteps soon began with each one sounding like a blunt object abusing an unlucky soul. Not far removed from the stain, a beaten body laid lifelessly at the bottom of the stairs. Their uniform was that of the castle's defense squadron and bore a notable gash across the chest region. Soon, the footsteps stopped and the story began to rear its head. On the back wall of the room, a cell showed evidence of being forced open. The lock was shattered into pieces scattered across the floor and the bars scratched to no end. Dried blood once again trailed from the broken cell in question, though this time it appeared to lead somewhere out of view — somewhere obstructed by the corner created from the farthest cell on the right wall.

The footsteps once again resumed, drawing closer to the corner. Each time they grew more sparse, more cautious. The corner was now only a couple paces away, yet now there was silence. It was the type of silence that was invasive and could consume — that could send the coldest of sweats down one's body. Yet... In a strange way, although it was undeniably predatory, the air carried a strange sense of divinity. In spite of that, the boot of a fool ignored all warnings as it lifted itself forward once more. It neared collision with the stone like before, except this time, a shrieking cry interrupted the thud with dominance.

As the cry echoed oh so harshly, the observer took a defensive stance. A figure soon lunged out from the corner at an untraceable speed, the only indication anything was there at all being the brief sight of a purple ring spinning midair. The slight glow revealed that the person who had entered the dungeon was Raydrik, stepping out of his defensive stance to intercept the purple light with a slash of his own blade.

The collision came with a grinding crack and — with its ensuing clash — revealed the source of the purple rays to be a blade shrouded in darkness. Its bearer — now grounded from the strike — was the sight of Mareeta, although some changes made her scarcely recognizable. Her clothes were tattered and dried blood littered across her skin, but the most striking difference was in her face. As her blade continued to press abusively against Raydrik's, her mouth was that of a set of fangs; her eyes were hallow and an unsettling shade of crimson. Something about the way she was now wasn't just hostile, it was evil.

"My, my! Couldn't resist the temptation of this blade after all, huh?" Raydrik's voice taunted, applying a sudden burst of strength to his arms to cause the girl to stagger away, thus ending their clash. "Broken yourself out and killed one of my men — yes, I'd say you've gotten a feel for its power quite nicely!" The baron's words provoked no reaction. Mareeta only stared at the man, letting out occasional growls as her glare remained the highest form of predatory.

"No words for me, hm?" Raydrik began again to continued silence, his taunt accompanied by a shake of the head this time. "No matter, for I have words for you. I would like your assistance with something." At this, Mareeta let out a growl that was notably louder than the rest. Even in the dimly lit nature of the room, Raydrik could see as the girl's lips curled in fury. He stared at the girl with a building smile as she continued to growl louder and louder. She was losing herself — thrashing through all emotions until the growls turned into yells. Before long, it was accompanied by her pointing that blade in Raydrik's direction once more.

"Now, now, I'm not asking for much. Just exterminating a mouse or two," the baron finally revealed, wetting his tongue to say more when — to his surprise — the growling stopped. In fact, Mareeta had gone completely silent to the point it was unsettling for him. There was an uncertainty about him now, clearing his throat before putting out his left hand, blade still clutched in his right. "Now then, come with-"

"Mouse." The girl before him finally spoke her first comprehensible word. Her voice was an echo, sounding as if a filter filled with wrath, pain, and unlimited aggression had been casted upon it. With lack of a better term, it sounded demonic.

"Yes, a mouse..." he affirmed, though what happened next caused him to slowly retract his hand. With her blade still risen, Mareeta began to move it in midair, tracing an outline around the man.

"Mouse," she spoke in repetition, this time taking an offensive stance once her tracing had ceased. Did she really intend to fight him? She who had been so helpless before? This blade really must dull the mind, or so he thought. The man instinctively took a few steps back now, raising his free hand in amusem*nt.

"You wish to fight me? Go on and try then!" Raydrik gloated, yet as soon as he did, the girl charged right for him... then vanished from his sight. He gasped with eyes gone wide, frantically scanning the room from wall to wall when a sharp pain rose through his spine. With a howl, the man turned around as soon as he could manage, seeing that Mareeta was right behind him. Her stance implied that she struck him, but how? It was as if she teleported!

Standing before her now, he let out a grunt filled with anxiety, yet before he could even think about fighting back, the girl vanished again. Just like last time, a sudden pain spiked within him, this time at his left shoulder. The blow caused him to stagger backwards with another yelp. Amidst the pain, he instinctively watched his surroundings, only to find that this time the girl hadn't reappeared.

"W-What?!" he groaned, but his call soon found an answer. A blow was delivered to his knee, and shortly after another to his abdomen. Every couple seconds, one surprise attack was given to a different part of the baron's body, screaming and staggering each time. As the onslaught ensued, every so often, Raydrik began to catch a glimpse of movement between each strike. No, she wasn't teleporting like he thought; rather, she was moving with extreme speed. He couldn't help but wonder how — all that changed about her was the blade! Did it have more power than the church had let on?

Regardless, as another strike met his face this time, he knew he had to act fast. By now, he could feel himself bleeding out beneath his clothes — that usual bravado began to fade as genuine fear was creeping within him. Still, once another powerful strike was dealt to his chest, using the bit of strength he could muster, Raydrik let out a roar and swung his blade all around him. With his foot planted firmly, he heard a clash. The sound meant he had made contact — a sensation soon proved further by his eyes.

Following the strike, his gaze found an airborne Mareeta recoiling backwards from the exchange. As her body spiraled towards one of the walls, the duke anticipated her to crash and fall, but the sword fighter repositioned her body. In a swift motion, she gave a kick towards a column of the wall between two cell doors. The front of her foot rolled against it, keeping the momentum as she sprinted up and along the side of its surface. The cell doors rattled with her approach until she leapt down from the wall, clutching the dark sword for another strike.

Raydrik had been tracking her movements along the wall and made an attempt to block her attack, but despite his best efforts, the damage he had sustained proved too much. The pain left him unable to raise his blade fast enough, Mareeta's downward strike landing a direct hit on the baron's chest. The blow was intended for his neck, and while he was barely able to nudge it out of the way, the attack was still more than enough to ground him as his body was flung harshly against the stone. That earlier feeling of fear turned from a creep to a landslide. Raydrik was beginning to feel cornered.

His eyes now stung of sweat and blood, yet the pain of keeping them open was hardly worth it anymore. All he could see were the feet of the sword fighter and that shadowy blade dragging like nails on the ground right in front of him — stalking him. Every function in his body was becoming labored and as his fingers crawled to the sheath hung near his belt, he could only curse himself for leaving the fang in his quarters. Loptous' power — he needed it now; he needed any sort of miracle. Eventually, the only solace he could retreat to was merely closing his eyes. He braced himself as the scraping blade drew closer, until suddenly... it ceased. Instead, the sound he now heard was that of a body collapsing and steel crashing and jittering to rest on the ground.

Silence soon fell and Raydrik knew he yet breathed. Slowly, his eyes opened to see Mareeta out cold before him. The sight confused him. What could have happened for her to just stop like that? It served as a long needed wave of relief all the same, yet the baron's sigh couldn't mask the pain of his wounds in dire need of treatment.

"Even under the influence of that blade she's.. as fiery as ever - no, even more so..." he groaned in pain, struggling to prop himself up. "I was far too... careless."

"I would agree." Raydrik's eyes went wide through the pain as another familiar voice sounded behind him. Within a seconds, a bright light would shine as magic imbued itself around the baron. Gradually, he felt the pain subside from his body, though some of the cuts remained visible on his skin. Even so, this new presence didn't exactly make him feel secure.

"Bishop Veld, I-I thought your hands were tied in a meeting today," Raydrik nearly whimpered, keeping his eyes locked to the ground as a choice now. He didn't want to imagine what sort of looked he'd be greeted with were he to do otherwise.

"That was the plan, yes, though the Archbishop has not arrived quite yet," the Loptous bishop spoke, his tone holding both confidence and disappointment. "How fortunate it is for you. Were I not here to cast a sleep spell, you'd be dead, Duke Raydrik."

"Y-Yes, for that I am most grateful, your grace."

"Stand up and face me as you speak,” Veld lectured. "This is not what you promised to allot your time with, but I'll forgo the matter of those Magi for the moment. When I left the shadow sword under Munster's supervision, I did not anticipate you to throw it around so carelessly."

"Apologies, your grace, yet," Raydrik paused. "I was under the impression that the blade merely corrupted one's mind."

"You fool, it does a lot more than just that!" His voice ricocheted off the walls. "This blade is imbued with the power to bring out one's latent potential. It corrupts the soul, yes, but in exchange, the fighter is given power they can only dream of. It's especially effective on those bearing a crusader’s blood."

"Really? How so?"

Veld sighed. "Surely you remember the so-called 'Miracle of Dahna'? The beginning of the end of Loptous' reign that led to our people's persecution?"

"O-Of course I do, your grace. Nearly two-hundred years ago, Gods from above gave birth to the twelve divine families we all know today."

"Yes, and you might recall how legends speak as though these warriors possessed the power of the Gods themselves."

"Naturally, but such accounts can be written off as grossly exaggerated, yes?" No response. Raydrik felt the need to reiterate. "I mean, it's been all these years and no additional sources have ever spoken of power with that magnitude-"

"Idiot!” Veld hollered. “The entire reason the Archbishop made this blade was so that-" The bishop then took a moment to process Raydrik's condition - everything he had seen from the girl’s abilities. "Wait, what are your plans going forward with this girl?"

"W-Well, the idea was to have her greet our newest prisoner in the arena, but if it is your wish, I can-"

"The arena you say? No, let's go along with this little plan of yours," Veld interrupted as a plan began to form. "In fact, it's of an even higher priority than capturing the Magi."

This surprised Raydrik. "I-I see, yes of course." He’d move over to Mareeta’s body. "I'll bring her to the arena at once."

"Do what you see fit. Once my business with the Archbishop has reached its end, I will be joining you."

"As you say." Raydrik gives a bow and Veld vanishes. He’d wait for a moment before kneeling down and picking Mareeta up. He'd have one of his soldiers bring her to the entrance, and with that, there was only one more piece of the puzzle to retrieve. The mistress of disobedience herself…

Elsewhere in the dungeon

Parallel walls made of brick as opposed to stone formed halls notably more narrow than other sub levels. It was darker too, not a single torch being lit to guide the path of any who were unfortunate to walk it. One would be right to assume not a soul occupied the space at all were it not for the faint but true sound of echoed footsteps deeper into the darkness. At one of the walkway's corners, a hand soon emerged from the darkness and guided itself forward with limited vision. The owner of such a hand was Ced, followed closely by Asbel and Hawke.

"We haven't seen any soldiers as of now, but be on your guard," Ced warned, before adding, "Sorry, if I anticipated this, I'd have grabbed a torch or two on our way,"

"Think nothing of it, your highness," Hawk replied, shaking his head. "My only concern is that this darkness might make it harder to rendezvous with the others."

"True," Ced agreed. "I believe we're at sublevel two, meaning Brighton and the rest are at sublevel three. From what I've seen, there's more than one set of stairs between levels, so perhaps we'd do best to secure them all,"

"Of course, the children come first, yes?"

"Yes, they do." The group of mages continued their stride, though Asbel was the only among them to be silent. Rather than speak, he found a dialogue in his head - ensnared by memories.

A small city in Ulster - Grann Calendar Year 767

"Sorry! Are you okay?" A boy with brown hair stood above another with turquoise hair. They were in the middle of a busy street and the brown haired boy was accompanied by a taller man dressed in blue.

"Ouch! Hey, that hur-" the turquoise haired boy whined, looking up with frustration only to choke on his words. "You!"

"Me?" the brown haired boy repeated.

"Yeah you! You're supposed to be that new prince in town, right?"

"Uhm, yeah.”

The turquoise haired boy now stood. "Wow! Ya know, you really don't dress like it, but that's okay with me!"

"I'm happy it is."

"Mhm. My pa told me you guys came from Ulster palace, so you're probably friends with King Braden and Queen Ethnia!"

The brown haired boy says nothing, but for a moment, his eyes lowered. "Yes, I like them. They were very nice."

"Aren't they? My pa tells me the queen founded the magic school here!"

"I didn't know that."

At the blunt response, the turquoise haired boy then sees a girl with blonde hair hiding behind the other side of the man in the prince’s company.

"Woah, who are you?"

The blonde’s body squirmed. "M-Me? U-Uhm, I-"

"Asbel! There you are!" An older man with the boy's hair color ran over to him through the crowds of people. The boy turned around.

"Hi pa! I was just talkin' to the prince!"

"I can see that, and I'd say you've done enough." The man who was the boy's father then scoops him up. "Sorry for bothering you," he says this to the blue dressed male who remains dead quiet. As his father took the boy away, though, the little prince gazed curiously at the pair.

"Pa, why'd you do that for?" Asbel asked once the two were far enough away. His father set him down on his feet.

"That's Prince Leif, Asbel. You can't just go and talk to whoever you want."

"He was real nice, though."

"Maybe he was, but you ought to at least have more respect next time."

"But pa, I just," Asbel's words break. "I just wanted to know why he's here.”

His father hesitated with eyes gone weary. "His home was destroyed," he answered somberly. "Grannvale wants to take him away, so the king and queen trusted us with protecting him. Do you understand now, boy?"

"Asbel, you've been awfully quiet." Ced's voice cut through the boy's thoughts.

"Huh? "I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Something weighs on you," Ced began. "Is it Prince Leif?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just a feeling," Ced smiled. "Though, I'd say it makes me even more sure my decision is the right one."

"You think so, huh," Asbel murmured. "After all you've taught me, I wish there was more I could do for you."

"All I've taught you? That Graphcalibur spell is the extent of the knowledge I've given you, Asbel. The melody you write with it is your own."

"Am I missing something here?" Hawk questioned.

"Allegedly, Prince Leif of Leonster is being held captive in the palace." There wasn't any point in hiding it anymore.

"What? As in the son of Lord Quan and Lady Ethlyn? He's here?"

Ced nods again. "Once the prisoners make contact with our forces outside the palace, I'll make haste in finding Raydrik and be done with it," Ced explained. "After that, the Magi's leader will be Prince Leif from then on. If anyone is to finish the job of liberating the Northern District, it ought to be him." He just hoped that Galzus wouldn't show up at an inopportune time again. There was something special about him for sure, if anything he was banking on him being the type to hunt the largest prey first.

"This... is very sudden, but I understand," Hawk cedes and glances over to Asbel. He could just see the nervousness oozing from the boy. "Still, I hope you know I'll follow your path regardless of that, your highness." Ced gave an acknowledging nod. He was thankful for Hawk's service after all. "Don't worry, Asbel. I'll keep an eye on his highness when you're gone."

"Hey, there's no reason to say that just yet, Hawk. We still have a mission to finish here.” Embarrassment crept its way into Ced’s voice.

"Yes sir," Hawk nodded.

"Uhm, speaking of, Lord Ced," Asbel began, thoughts going to some of Leif’s companions for a moment. Princess Nanna, Finn, or anyone else - he still remembered them so clearly. "Did you by chance hear of... any other notable individuals accompanying Prince Leif?"

"Notable individuals?” Ced paused. “I don't believe so..."

"Actually, come to think of it, how did you even get this hunch in the first place?" Hawk asked. The very same question had been stirring in Asbel’s mind too.

"...A mysterious man met me outside of the church yesterday before service," the sage admitted. "He wore robes of white and green, but the most notable feature I could make out from beneath his hood was a beard." The two things the man said returned to him.

Are you the leader of this Magi group I've heard about since coming into town?

The prince of Leonster awaits you.

"A mysterious man, huh?" Asbel repeated.

"I'm still curious as to how he was able to identify me so easily..." Ced also couldn't shake the fact the man seemed so on edge when speaking to him. It was as if they were saying something he had been ordered not to.

"Prince Ced, why didn't you speak of this sooner," Hawk grimaced. "If he knows who you are, he could be an enemy of Silesse."

"I don't know, Hawk. Something about him made me want to trust what he said," Ced reasoned.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say-”

"Wait!" Ced then raised a hand, bringing everyone to a silence. His body soon shivered, reacting as a presence moved through the area for just a moment, dark… evil, even. It wasn't tangible, as if particles were transported through the air. The oxygen became oppressive like it had been poisoned until all at once, the sensation vanished. All three mages were left in labored breaths. "It's gone."

"What was that?" Hawk asked in a daze.

"I..." the prince paused in sweat. "I'm not sure."

Regardless of what the presence was, once it was gone, the group of mages reluctantly continued their stride in time, eventually coming to a fork in the road. It was swiftly decided that Ced would go one way, and Hawk and Asbel the other.

Somewhere else between the walls that made up the second sublevel of the dungeon, a large clearing that served as a room resided. It was rather square in shape, lined with stone pillars on opposing sides, and had two exits shooting off from it. On the left of the room was a set of stairs, presumably used by soldiers to get to the next level up. The other was on the right, a hallway that led to who knows where. Along the walls of the room, there were cots laid about as well as small tables next to some of them. At the lower left corner of the room, two of those cots were in use as a couple soldiers sat upright with their feet on the ground across from each other. Both were heavily armored, one had a bag of food and what not. He had just gotten back with supplies from the kitchen.

"The other guards are taking a while to switch out, don't you think?"

"Maybe," one of the men quietly gave his reply, sporting brown hair and green armor. His name was Dalsin. The other soldier began pulling items from the bag.

"I'd say we go check on them, but of course, that'd be breaking the 'flawless' system our liege made." He pours water from a large bottle and breaks apart some bread as he rants. "You want any?" Nodding, Dalsin cautiously took one of the pieces and slowly nibbled away at it.

"Thanks..." As he ate, possibilities circled through his mind. Maybe the guards fell asleep on duty, he couldn't blame them. For days, they've been endlessly on rotation watching the dungeon. He still remembers when Raydrik first locked that prince up.

By no means is that boy to escape, understood? I assure you, his life is far more valuable than anything you tools hold dear, so get any ideas of there being no consequences out of your mind!

Eventually, footsteps sound as someone comes down the stairs. It's a mage from the army, also carrying a small bag of refreshments.

"Hey! Did you guys hear the news?" Dalsin and the others turn to look and see the thunder mage entering the room. "Apparently Duke Raydrik is throwing some sort of big celebration upstairs."

"Really? What's the occasion?"

"I don't know. He wants all the castle guards to attend, though," he shrugged casually, not really believing the duke’s words.

" All of them?"

The mage chuckles hopelessly. "Except us," he then walks away to the other side of the room.

"Of course, why do I even bother?" the soldier sitting across from Dalsin complained. "Looks like you’re in dire need of a distraction yourself."

"I'm fine," Dalsin dismissed. "I don't want to be caught with my guard down like General Truman was." Much less to celebrate in Raydrik's depravity.

"Careful with what you say," the soldier warned as he poured himself more water from the container. "The general made an immediate recovery." He takes a drink and Dalsin says nothing. "You know, I ran into one of the center hall's guards on my way here."

"Yeah?" Dalsin raised an eyebrow without looking up.

"Yeah. He had a prisoner with him, some pretty looking blonde woman." He takes another drink. "A freeblade or something. They were going to the arena by the sounds of it. Wonder if this is related to Raydrik's little 'party' in any way."

"Doesn't make me any difference.” Dalsin let out a short sigh, only to raise his head when the door to the prison began to slowly open.

"Are the other guards back?" one of the soldiers asked, as they approached the door to check only to take a step back just as a man with a brown mop jumped out from the dark towards him. Putting his legs out instinctively, the newcomer kicked the soldier to the ground before landing square on his own ass. Startled for a brief moment, all the soldiers began to look at Lifis , grumbling to himself.

"A prisoner!" one of the other guards shouted, preparing their lance before all the others began to charge towards the thief. Standing up, the brown haired man got into a fighting stance without a weapon. As one of the soldiers was about to swing their axe, Fergus ran in and blocked the attack resulting in a loud metal upon metal clang! Leif was just behind him followed by Brighton, Machuya, and Karin. Barely a second elapsed and they were immediately surrounded, with Fergus falling back to regroup with the rest of the escapees.

"Drop your weapons now!" a soldier shouted, pointing his lance directly towards the group with the others following his lead.

Letting out a battle cry, Brighton gave his answer and began to lead the others charging head on towards their foes. Letting out a chorus of roars, the armored soldiers charged to meet them while the mages retreated to form the rear with a firing line. All while this was happening, Lara quickly ushered the villagers as they found a break in the chaos, and they all watched the fighting intently from behind.

The two groups then embraced in a clash of steel. Reverberated thuds and metallic shinks filled the space of the room from both sides. As the battle ensued, however, something was different. Against the heavily armored foes, each strike given from Leif and the others' charge failed to meet their mark in the same way they had with the previous guards. Their blows were parried, and those that weren't only did a fraction of the desired damage. The offensive line eventually evened out to be immovable on both sides — that is until another factor came into play.

From behind the line of Munster's knights, the mages finished getting into position. They stood near the pillars farthest into the room and shortly after began to cast thunder magic. As the bolts hurled their way from the back of the room, Lara’s eyes followed them and she yelled a warning from behind. At once, the line broke. The allied infantry heeded the call and fell back from their clashes as the electricity dispersed into the ground with a groaning jerk of static.

The ensuing collisions were now interrupted by a punching rumble every so often, and despite their best efforts to rebound, the added projectiles were too deadly to ignore. Slowly the masses of troops would spread out through the room. Every effort to make a push was held at a stalemate.

For Leif, each attack he tried to land had been blocked by the shield of a knight he was in contest with. He’d been repelled backwards by that wall of an object, and at the latest strike of thunder, Leif stumbled to hop backwards again to dodge. It was with only slight success. One of the bolts struck his forearm amidst the building chaos and burned the sleeve of his shirt. With a grunt and rub to his arm, Leif’s eyes winced as that armored knight still approached with their axe in hand. His armor was a bright green, almost blue color, and the presence of a helmet made any sort of emotion near impossible to discern. Still, the soldier spoke.

"You're that prince, aren't you? There's nothin' right about this... I'm sorry." Leif was on the right side of the room. From behind the knight, he could see Machyua, Brighton, and Lifis' supposed posse of axe fighters engaged in a battle of their own across the room. To his right, Karin had her own struggle underway as well. He was able to see her attempt to run past a knight to accost a mage, only to be stopped by said knight extending an arm and hitting her with a clothesline. He was on his own for the moment, but that realization was negligible compared to what he thought he heard the knight just say. He was sorry? Were such words truly the only recourse he had to offer for the implications behind them? That he knew the kind of place Raydrik was turning Munster into?

"You’re sorry, huh?" The sounds of the other weapons had practically become white noise at this point. “...For what?” By some miracle, the prince’s words evidently pierced the wall of sounds around him. The knight yielded for a moment, but Leif wouldn’t.

All across Jugdral, children between the ages of seven and thirteen are rounded up by Imperial soldiers and sent to the Empire's capital of Belhalla.

Those words from August made their presence known oh so violently. This soldier no doubt had a hand in the hunts and other atrocities befalling the district. At the very least, they were complicit in them. They were complicit in what happened to Fiana too. What right did they have to just apologize and call it a day? The knight remained silent. No accountability to be seen. That was just fine with him.

Leif dropped all held restraint, clutched tightly onto the hilt of his blade, and ran towards the stationary knight. He raised the weapon with both arms and prepared a downward swing. Like many times earlier into the push, however, the knight now took a stance and brought forth his shield to block the blow. It was Leif’s first time dealing with such an item, and he was already annoyed by it. With rage in his eyes and sparks flying from the collision, he was set on this clash being different.

With his blade blocked by the shield, Leif spied the knight preparing to swing the axe in their other hand and withdrew his own weapon from contact. At the last moment, he swerved his body to the right to dodge the knight’s attack, forcing them to hesitate mid swing. In that hesitation, Leif spun his body and delivered a crushing blow to their forearm with enough force that it left a crack on the armor. The armored soldier yelped, but the prince wouldn’t stop there.

Through the ensuing pain, the knight lowered their guard and Leif capitalized, lunging forward and pummeling their torso with his sword. They were forced to recoil backwards, glancing up as Leif approached yet again. With each step, the knight struggled harder to retake a stance. It’d be easier to just fall down, but something still compelled them to fight through the pain.

The knight performed a mix up at Leif’s oncoming attack. With a struggle laced roar, they swung their axe downwards before attempting to defend, halting Leif in his tracks as the weapon thrashed itself into the stone. Their grip on their shield was firm, next lunging their arm forward in a punching motion so the metallic plate crashed harshly into the prince’s body.

At once, Leif let out a labored cough as the point of contact completely drained the oxygen from his lungs. His body flung backwards, but he knew he’d have the strength to rebound once landing. To his dismay, however, his back slammed not into the floor as he hoped, but one of the tables lined against the walls. He felt almost as though he’d been stabbed, foreign objects striking against and into his skin causing his body to arch. He yelled and a sharp pain up his spine soon followed the sound of splintering wood.

This corner of the room appeared to be out of range of the mages, but Leif knew that hardly mattered now. He raised his head amidst the growing numbness and his eyes met the knight once more. They stood tall, and at this angle, Leif could see as blood dripped from the crack he had inflicted upon the armor. The sight of it made a certain sensation in the prince’s back flare up even more, tightening his fingers, curling his lip — hell, doing anything to ignore it. Soon enough, the knight’s helmet tilted downwards at the teen.

“There ain’t a damn thing I’m not sorry for.” Their voice was just as muffled before, but seemingly carried the answer to Leif’s previous question. An answer it might have been, it wasn’t one the prince was fond of. In fact, Leif’s face twisted in more than just agony at this declaration. He couldn’t believe the absurdity he was hearing. This was this soldier’s way of showing remorse?

“It’s complicated,” the knight elaborated, seeing the twisted nature of the boy’s face as he struggled to push his back up from the crumbling wood. This addition did little for the prince, however. Complicated? Complicated how?

“..Is that right?” Leif asked with a harsh cough. “If you ask me, there’s nothing complicated about stepping on others to save yourself.” A slightly distant rupture caused by thunder magic accompanied his words. They were filled with resentment, and although he hadn’t said it then, this was the exact thing he wanted to tell Lifis during their first impressions back in Iz. His eyes soon reached a peak in intensity that commanded complete attentiveness. The rest of their senses followed suit to the point neither noticed as frantic footsteps approached from Leif’s east.

“...Ain’t that the truth, your highness,” the knight concluded before at last taking a step forward. They were now right on top of Leif, preparing to swing their axe for potentially the last time. Leif knew it, fighting every nerve in his body to co-operate and get himself to stand, but each effort was inevitably thwarted by that thorny feeling he now had up and down his back. Even then, quite bitterly, he knew standing was only half the battle. He glanced at his sword that had fallen to the side, clutching its hilt with a taste of frustration. If he only had a few moments to rest, he’d be able to use it and restore his strength. But he didn’t. The harsh truth was that time was running out.

The knight’s axe had reached the peak of its swing, and the prince could do little except shut his eyes and brace for impact. His heart felt numb, but at what truly felt like the last moment, he saw it approaching out of the corner of his eye.

“Ay jackass!”

“Fergus?”

Leif and the knight swung their heads to the side as a new melody entered the mix. The blond mercenary moved with the ferocity of a charging bull, full on sprinting towards the two with nothing short of fury written all over him. His steps were heavy and his sword arm reached across the front of his torso. The position made it that the blade hovered above his opposite shoulder in preparation for a powerful swing.

“Get the hell away from my lil buddy!” the mercenary roared again, hopping up to the wall behind Leif before using it to propel himself towards the knight. There was no time to react. The mid air mercenary swung his sword arm forwards in an arc, delivering a heavy blow right to the knight’s head. The impact alone grounded the knight with a heavy thud as Fergus kicked his feet out and stabbed his blade at the floor to break the fall. Sparks were produced from the blade as his momentum came to a halt, coinciding with a metallic rattling produced by the knight’s helmet hitting the ground.

“Fergus!” Leif exclaimed out of instinct. Although the mercenary’s nicknames had a tendency to be hit or miss, he couldn’t deny he was relieved. In kind, Fergus turned to look at the grounded prince with a grin. Just in time.

“Hey, bud,” he greeted with that perfect taste of unseriousness Leif had now known him for. The blond ran back over to him soon enough, bending down to his knees and propping the teen up with his arms. Moving at all hurt Leif in this condition, but he gritted his teeth through the pain as Fergus raised him up. Almost immediately, the mercenary cringed at the sight of his backside. It was bloody and ridden with splinters. “Yeesh. Yeh hangin’ in there?”

“I guess so…” Leif conceded. His left arm was slumped over Fergus’ body and his right held tighter onto his blade. His eyes shifted to the shattered wood that used to be a table. “If I just landed on the ground I’d have been fine.” His words came out with a forced laugh. Still, as he scanned the area, he realized this was the breather he was hoping for. Using the strength he could muster, Leif raised his blade so the tip was pointed to the ceiling. He then took a deep breath, and soon, a glowing light slowly shrouded itself around his body.

What happened next was extraordinary for Fergus. His eyes naturally gravitated to the growing light, watching as any basic cuts and scrapes seemed to disappear from Leif’s body. A sword that could heal its user? He’d never seen anything like it before. From the unique pattern and gold material, he could assume it was at least special, but he never anticipated this of all things.

“Woah, never knew that sword of yers could do that,” he remarked with an impressed timbre. As the light faded, Fergus hunched over rather comically and eyed the blade from different angles. He next looked across the room to see Karin in an ongoing two on one bout. By no fault of her own, she had made little progress, but this new revelation was certain to come in handy.

For Leif, however, as his wounds were treated, his attention returned to where it had been previously. That teal knight, now unmasked and struggling to rise to their feet. They were a male, looked to be about Fergus’ age, and sported brown hair. His face was on the rounder side as well. Either way, it was round two. This time, the prince could look him in the eyes as he made him bleed... Or so he thought.

“Hey,” Leif’s attention was forced away as he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder — Fergus’ hand. “You think you can go help Karin out? I’ve got this one,” the mercenary proposed once the two made eye contact. Leif felt himself seize up for a moment. The sight of the knight, the words he had spoken — they were ingrained in his mind to the point his instinctual reaction was to decline. Why should he just walk away from this?

The expression he gave Fergus said it all, but the blond was surprisingly patient. He looked at the prince as a friend, and from such a gaze, Leif began to mellow out. It was like a reminder of what was really at stake, further solidified for the boy as he turned his attention to the green haired knight for himself. Fergus wasn’t asking him to give up the fight. The simple fact was he had more of his strength back to help her — to help a friend. Leif looked over to the knight once more — now nearly standing, and then back to Fergus.

“Right,” the prince affirmed, and in little time at all, he took his leave with a sprint. Fergus cracked a grin as he watched the teen go, a grin his face maintained when turning back to the knight. They had now finished standing.

“You’re all makin’ a mistake,” the knight groaned. The muscles in his face were visibly tense, his eyes were akin darts, and a new hoarseness even occupied his voice. This was getting interesting.

“Eh?” Fergus piped out with an air of obliviousness, giving in to the urge to humor this new intimidation.

“You shoulda just stayed in your cells,” the knight reiterated with more bass than before. The mercenary hardly flinched. Nonchalantly, Fergus gave his neck a crack and released a yawn.

“Really? Well, I appreciate a good nap every now ‘n then, but this place is gettin’ real dull,” he taunted, holding his arm to the side and rotating his blade like a pendulum with a few flicks of the wrist. “And frankly, I’ve slept in better.” His words finished with him firmly gripping onto the hilt and taking an offensive stance.

“Is this just a joke to you?” The knight’s aggravation had grown.

Fergus stepped forward, taking note of the slight advantage in height he held. His grin turned to a smirk. “Yeh tryna find out?”

The knight broke. With a yell, he gripped onto his axe and gave it a hefty horizontal swing. Unlike Leif before him who had dodged it, however, Fergus quickly blocked the attack with a swing of his own. The resulting clash reverberated through the wall of sound from other battles.

“Hoo, man!” Fergus exclaimed with a grin at the knight’s ensuing astonishment. “Yer gonna have to try harder than that!” At once, both retracted their weapons for another blow. This time, the knight bent his knees and gave an upwards swing with even more force. Fergus merely swung his sword downwards to match him. Blocked again.

“Seriously! I’m used to sparrin’ with someone who hits way harder!” The mercenary took advantage of his leverage to parry the axe downwards. He then grabbed onto the knight’s forearm and pivoted himself around them, immediately giving a mighty swing to their back. A direct hit. The knight yelled in pain and another crack found its way onto their armor.

Fergus stood proud, watching his foe nearly take a knee from the attack. When they turned their head to gaze upon the smug mercenary from behind, their face said it all. Shock was now overriding their frustration. He knew the blond could have attacked him again and didn't. But why?

“You’re stronger than the prince…” he murmured before turning the rest of his body around to face Fergus again.

“Maybe,” the blond shrugged. “No matter how ya slice it, I think yer gonna regret takin’ this fight away from those spell castin’ fellas. Hell, at least pick up this piece of crap again,” the mercenary lectured with an ounce of boredom. He was gesturing to the shield on the ground, now found near the blond’s feet. He soon kicked the metallic plate so that it skid across the floor for the knight to retrieve.

“You can’t be serious,” he looks at the shield. Fergus gestures to it again. Reluctantly, the knight bends down and picks it up. All the while, the mercenary’s actions perplexed him. From the bravado to this... was all of it truly for his own amusem*nt? The knight rose. As if he were a predator reading their mind, however, Fergus’ gaze was there to meet them. No, gaze wasn’t the right word anymore. Now it was more of a glare with the jester’s muse retired.

“Speakin’ of serious, how ‘bout you and me talk somethin’ important?” The quality of his voice was much more imposing than before. Even if he didn’t want to, the knight felt it’d be unwise to not play along with this new development.

“What?” The uncertainty in their voice was obvious. Fergus’ eyes narrowed, intending to capitalize as visions from the battle in the castle town returned to him. Those children being rounded up before him and giving up everything to try and stop it in an outnumbered fight. This guy right here was aiding in keeping them hostage.

“Those children. Where are ya keepin’ ‘em?” The knight seized in an instant. The worst possible question — the children. They were the one thing he and the other guards were to prioritize equally to the prince. How did this mercenary know about them anyways?

“So you know?” they refuted as the sweat on their forehead multiplied. “Forget it, to tell you that would be suicide!” Ironically, he couldn’t give this answer even if he wanted to. For a reason the knight could only guess, Raydrik never told him where the children were held. Despite all that, a chuckle from the mercenary across the way hijacked his attention again.

“Hey, I just thought I’d let you go out the easy way,” Fergus quipped with a bit of his playfulness returning. “But the hard way works fer me too.” There was no point in lying.

“I don’t know the answer either way…” the knight admitted. A brief pause arose. Fergus’ eyes dimmed.

“Hard way. Got it.” At the drop of the last syllable, he went on the offensive. With both hands clutching his blade, he lunged forward with a swing that the knight barely blocked with their shield. He immediately followed up with another strike, and then another. The knight blocked the second, but not the third and was forced backwards. Fergus charged forward and the battle continued still. The time for talking had finally ended. Each embrace that was made ended with Fergus gaining the upper hand and pushing the knight backwards further and further

Following along the right wall, eventually the momentum brought the two of them in front of the hallway shooting off from the right. At the arched entrance, the knight finally found the chance to strike again, forcing Fergus to duck and slide to his left as the axe collided with the wall. The mercenary followed up with a swing of his own, this time blocked by the shield. The knight swiftly pulled their axe from the wall, giving another swing which Fergus answered by hopping backwards into the hall and intercepting it with his blade. The space had naturally grown more narrow, but the walls were still wide enough for a fight.

Admittedly, the blond was impressed by his foe. They gradually worked their way up to his pace, and as the knight approached again, Fergus kicked it up a notch. With faster movement, he swung his blade, and when blocked by the shield, he pushed himself to climb up the plate and deliver a roundhouse kick to the knight’s face. The blow brought the two deeper into the halls where their clashes resumed.

While all of this was happening, Leif had turned his attention to the other corner of the room. From a distance, he was able to see as Karin weaved around a few pillars parallel from each other. There were two enemies accosting her - a knight and mage.

Feeling herself enter an overlocked state, the pegasus knight retreated behind one of the spires to evade the knight’s latest attack. With her back against the foundation, this put them at her right. She looked over her shoulder to the left, seeing as a mage prepared to cast another spell onto her a decent bit away. The path between the pillars on that side was clear. If she ran fast, she could reach them before the armored soldier had time to wrap around and attack again.

With a wipe to her forehead, she emerged and broke out into a sprint directed toward the casting mage. The timing wasn’t in her favor, however, for the plasma drilled into the ground not even halfway there. It forced her to jump backwards, only to be met with the knight again at her backside. The armored soldier gave a thrust of their lance and Karin barely had the time to turn herself around and roll out of the way. She now sat on all fours and sweat glands continued to gather on her temple. Somehow, she had to break this stalemate.

“Why aren’t you attacking?” the voice of a man sounded from the side. Its presence annoyed her instantly, looking to her right to see as Lifis was a few feet up in the air, arms hugged tightly onto one of the nearby pillars.

“Why am I not attacking? Why don’t you stop being a baby and help me?” Karin erupted, leaping to her feet again at the knight’s approach. She was forced to dodge again, the movement now placing her and the knight directly under Lifis.

“W-Well you guys never gave me a sword-” Lifis began, only to be interrupted again.

“What a convenient excuse!” she snapped back after evading another attack, clutching onto her slim blade and preparing a swing. “You’re even worse than Fergus!” She swung the blade down at the knight as they readjusted their lance, only for the attack to be repelled entirely by their armor with a clink. It left her wide open. The knight thrusted their lance at Karin’s lung. She barely evaded — the cloth of her tunic tore and before she could adjust her footing, the knight followed up with a punch that sent her backwards. Acting quick, Karin threw a hand back to catch herself on the next pillar over. She looked forward, the knight still approaching with Lifis at their overhead. He still hugged that damn structure like it was a tree.

“No, you’re not doin’ it right!” Lifis shouted once their eyes met. “I told you that sword you got is strong against their armor if you-”

“I just tried!” she roared. “This flimsy thing didn’t even leave a scratch!” she flailed the sword she possessed around in the air. At this point, the armored soldier appeared to halt temporarily, gazing up at the thief and then the female knight. A faint chuckle sounded from their helmet — it was as if they enjoyed watching this back and forth banter. For Karin, however, this moment caused a certain interaction to return to her.

A little cheap aren't they?

Well excuse me, I didn't know we were bein' picky!

Of course she shouldn’t have listened to Fergus. Why would going along with what he said ever be a good idea? By now, another thunder spell was on its way to hit the pegasus knight. She didn’t have the stamina to fully dodge this time and took the bolts head on.

Her voice cracked in pain and a gust of wind was emitted from the blast’s radius. Both Lifis and the knight watched with polarized expressions, the thief wincing as Karin was effectively grounded and trying to stand as the magic’s dust cleared. His eyes then went to see Brighton, Machyua, and his so-called faithfuls in their own battles across the room. They wouldn’t be able to help. He couldn’t find the prince or that one mercenary either. As he looked back to Karin, his cheeks tightened. If she went down, he’d be next.

With a gulp, as the knight began to move, Lifis let himself drop from the pillar. As his feet hit the floor, Karin and the armor alike looked at him in surprise. What was he planning? His legs only shook slightly, but his face showed a rare, albeit slight, air of bravery. The thief knew he couldn’t fight, but he could distract them.

“Now what do you think you’re doing?” the knight asked. Lifis stuck out his tongue.

“See ya later, losers!” he shouted, turning to spank himself as a taunt. Once finished, he then turned heel and ran. Karin couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The move immediately alarmed the mage and knight alike, shouting at each other and proceeding to run after the scoundrel of a man. She watched them disappear from view behind the pillars as the overbearing sounds around her were allowed to take the stage of her attention. Sweat burned her eyes at this point, but although everything hurt, she couldn’t leave the man on his own — uncouth his character may be.

The pegasus knight forced herself up and paced over to the nearest spire. She placed a hand on the brick and slowly peered out to see the thief running in circles. He was evading the knight and the mage struggled to aim their spell. The latter was still within reasonable running distance, if only she had a couple more moments to rest.

If only I could rest? Karin repeated. That phrase seemed to let everything finally sink in. Her first actual battle and she was yielding to thoughts like that. The helplessness she displayed at the battle in the castle town didn’t soothe her either. The stinging in her eyes intensified with each deep breath. What good did making it all the way here from Silesse do if this was the best she could manage? Surely the lessons she received in sparring conditioned her for better.

“Captain, you’d be so ashamed…” Karin muttered in vain — though she already knew. She knew her words couldn’t fly high enough to reach whatever skyline she soared.

Even though this strategy worked for now, just running could only get Lifis so far. The thief's eyes next locked onto the right hallway whose entrance showed a bit of damage. Before long, however, he was beginning to lose some speed. From behind, Karin’s stinging eyes focused on the mage flipping through their tome. She wanted to move, but the burning sensation in her legs was winning.

The two fronted pain showed no signs of dwindling, and neither did the mage. They were ready to attack the thief, the pegasus knight’s eyes following the conjured lightning. She prepared to see him suffer the same pain she had… but to her surprise, the attack was not aimed at Lifis. As the bolts hurled through the air, they landed not at Lifis, but someone farther ahead. It was Leif, skillfully evading the magic with a roll.

“You!” Lifis exclaimed, skidding to a halt behind the prince. He didn’t even notice the teen’s approach, perhaps a sign of how intense his heartbeat had become. Karin was just as surprised. Leif briefly turned his head to acknowledge the thief, then looked back to the still approaching knight.

“Perfect timing, ya know. That girl could use your help over there,” Lifis added with heavy breaths. At the comment, Leif looked farther back to see the female knight’s condition as she leaned against the pillar. Of course he knew, he’d seen everything till now.

“Right, but,” Leif began, recalling his previous fight as his back flared up. The wall they created with armor and shield alike. It’d be the same here. “I need to find a way to get through.”

“Well ya better hurry up! They’re coming right for us!” Lifis’ voice whimpered as the knight continued to charge.

Leif instinctively took a defensive stance, eyeing the knight and then the mage. They were preparing another spell. He sure as hell didn’t want to get hit by that again either.

At that moment, his eyes widened. The sensation of that electricity he took to the arm repeated in his head like shattering glass. That was the answer! How did he not think of it sooner? Leif now shot a glare, soon raising his arm and sword alike. Light engulfed the blade once more, except this time, it centered itself up to the tip.

“What the hell is that?” Lifis murmured in awe. Karin showed a similar reaction. It looked like the sword was conjuring a spell. The knight halted, but it was too late. Leif swung the blade down and a concentrated blast of lightning was launched from the tip. It reached the armored foe within seconds, resulting in an explosion of light. With smoke flying off their body, the knight showed few signs of physical damage, but was downed regardless. All those who watched couldn’t believe their eyes. Only the mage remained.

“He coulda done that the whole time?” Lifis thought with an impressed but strained color to his face. From right behind, he watched Leif take off towards the remaining foe, but showed no intent of moving himself. Sure, there were more enemies on the other side of the room, but was it really worth staying with the prince? Surely he was capable of finishing this up by himself.

Lifis’ attention returned behind him - eyes glued to the unoccupied right hallway exit. At the very least, he could find another way out of here. It was then that the thief realized it. He looked back and forth between the two sides of the room a few more times — his head like a powerful pendulum. There was a choice to make — yes, he realized something indeed. For the first time since his capture at the Isles, he was free to do as he pleased.

Outside of the thief’s thoughts, Leif continued his charge towards the mage, and by extension, Karin. In reaction to his approach, the mage moved from their position to apply distance and buy time. Before long, another spell was casted towards the prince, halting his advance like clockwork. Leif resumed the charge, but just like before, the mage adjusted their position and halted him with an attack.

This exchange would continue with Leif only making slight ground each time. Karin watched this all unfold with building frustration. She knew if she could just get herself to move, she’d help even the odds. She let out a soft cry accompanied by a tear or two, forcing one painful step.

Grow strong while I’m gone, Karin.

Of course such words from the captain had to come and taunt her now. She couldn’t even land a scratch, let alone run.

I just… I can’t do this by myself…

More words from memories of the past made themselves known. With heavy breaths, she wiped her eyes and left them with determination. No more.

Martel and Nikita might not think so, but… I know that when calamity calls, you’ll be ready.

Another bolt struck down at Leif, forcing him to stagger. As the mage preemptively repositioned themselves, however, something would be different. Their heel sounded in Karin’s ear like a drop of water, at once finding the strength to sprint. With her sword in hand, she ran through the pain. The mage wasn’t ready. They turned to the side with all the surprise in the world on their face, stammering to cast a spell.

Karin was faster. She reached the mage and sliced her sword across their forearm, forcing them to drop the tome. She followed up with a kick to their side and another slash to their back once turned around. Within seconds, they fell face first to the ground with Karin standing above them triumphantly. She then turned to Leif and gave the prince a labored wave. Said prince had seen the whole exchange, beginning to move over to his peer.

“Karin, you’re… alright,” Leif observed with a pause in his words. Her body and clothes still showed signs of damage.

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” Karin replied with a bit of weakness to her words. Nothing? Leif thought for sure she was out of it.

“Still, I’m impressed,” Leif reiterated. Karin flashed a grin.

“Well I am a knight of Silesse.”

That’s right. She was a self proclaimed “Junior Knight” of Silesse. He wondered for a moment if all knights were like this, so persistent. Granted, there was also the Munster knight who injured him earlier. What did that say about them? What about Finn and the other knights of Leonster — their disposition to throw everything on the line. Gradually, Leif began to space out.

Finn.

It was almost easy to forget, but he put him and all the freeblades in danger two or so weeks ago. The first thing he’ll do once he’s out of here will be to find them, but…

By this point, a familiar ringing resonated throughout his body. His ears were failing and his vision became fuzzy. His thoughts, however, lingered on. He wondered if he was worthy. Does he even have the right to be the one whosavesthem?

Hands now waved before his face. He didn’t acknowledge them. Shouts that attempted to break through to him were drowned out. The ringing reached peak decibels as his mind continued to stew. Does he even have the right to help Nanna or Mareeta?

All at once, a sharp pain shot up through Leif’s back.

“-rince!”

Karin’s voice boomed in Leif’s ears, as did the trail of his own scream. He suddenly found himself falling to the ground harshly. With his face against the stone, the pain in his back continued to flare. He could feel it. It was where he landed against the wood. He rotated himself to see the knight he had downed from earlier. They must have gotten back up and struck him from behind.

Karin had none of this, gripping onto her sword enraged. She subconsciously thrusted forward tip-first as opposed to her previous swings. To her surprise, the blade pierced right through the armor, cracking it, and stabbed into the knight’s body. They howled, causing Karin to swiftly pull the sword back, but once she did, they fell coldly to the ground. She looked at the now bloody blade in surprise.

“The tip?” Karin mumbled between breaths.

I told you that sword you got is strong against their armor if you-

Lifis’ words returned to her. If you strike with the tip? Is that what he was trying to say? The tip… Her eyes flickered at the blade. The more her thoughts cycled, she was reminded of something told to her in training.

An unrefined defense is always susceptible to precision.

Huh?

You’ll find out for yourself what I mean before long.

Karin looked at the edge of the sword one last time. So that’s what the captain meant. She understood now, but that understanding was just as quickly followed up by another. Did Fergus intentionally give her this sword to accommodate for her weaker physical strength? Maybe he was sharper than she gave him credit for. Either way, something else was begging for her attention.

“Prince, are you okay?” the junior knight asked, taking a knee as the boy sat himself up. Leif’s vision was still clearing, taking a moment to compose himself. Once his eyes steadied on Karin, he spoke.

“Y-Yeah, I think so.” None of the concern left Karin’s face. That didn’t explain anything of what she just saw. She warned him, but he didn’t respond whatsoever.

“What happened? It looks like you completely froze up.” Her eyes said it all. She wasn’t just worried, she was… afraid.

“Oh, I was,” Leif began, yet the intensity of his thoughts returned to him in one sharp burst. He didn’t want to remember. “I was just thinking about something. Don’t trouble yourself.” Karin looked as though she wanted to pry further, but the dismissiveness in Leif’s words was enough to sway her otherwise.

“If you say so,” she ceded, standing back up. As the pain in his back subsided, Leif joined her. What faced them now was the other side of the room. Brighton, Machyua, and the others still had their own fights to win. Helping them out was the logical thing to do. “Your blade can do that lil trick again, right?” Karin asked. Leif gave her a puzzled look in return.

“Little trick?” he repeated, wondering if he had even heard her correctly.

“You know,” Karin began again, flustered this time. She pressed her fingers together and a small blush formed. “The magic attack.”

“Oh- Yeah.” Leif knew exactly what she was insinuating with such a question. With troubles swallowed for the moment, the two of them ran back into the fray.

The Arena

On the first floor of the palace, there was a large and open circular space caved a few feet deeper than the rest of the floor that surrounded it. Walls rose around the perimeter, the inner side of them were carved inwards to form different levels. Each row was filled with benches, but on the floor level, the walls were instead lined with steel barred doors. These doors led to a reasonably sized room, supposedly a hideaway where fighters were to wait for an upcoming match. Despite its size, however, the area was entirely unoccupied for the moment… except for one.

Behind one of the barred doors, Eyvel was seated on a bench in solitude. A small amount of light filtered in through the bars, but otherwise, the room was as dim as it was silent. This isolation was perfect for one on the precipice of constructive thought, but for her it was torturous. While seated, her face was buried deep within her palms.

The arena… What exactly was Raydrik planning? Would he force her to fight his men to the death for his own amusem*nt? Purposefully waiting until she had no energy left to escape and only then letting her see the girls? Or would he instead force the girls to fight where she’d be helpless to stop it? The grip she held on her face grew tighter. It was almost paradoxical. Agreeing to Raydrik’s terms felt like the only chance she had to save them, yet by doing so, she couldn’t shake the feeling it only further sealed their fate. Not to mention the others. She was right to keep Finn away, but what of the rest?

Her hands now slowly wiped down her face, finding rest clasped together at her knees. After giving herself up, that Ares individual reluctantly ceased his assault. If he took her, the others wouldn’t fight anymore — that’s what she told him. He agreed to it. When they rendezvoused with the boss, evidently he felt the same as he called the mission off. If only it was as simple as that.

What those mercenaries said, she still remembered it clearly. After meeting with the boss, she had to wait because most of the unit still hadn’t returned. Standing on the rocky mountain top with restraints on her wrists, she overheard something between the blond teen and his bearded commander she never wished to.

You won your battle, then?

Against that bandana wearin’ thug and lil girl? Yeh should know better, Ares. Sure, the man was strong, but they’re nothin’ compared to me…

Dagdar and Tanya… Her lips curled in tandem with her fingers digging into her knees. Neither of them deserved this. They only came along because they felt it was the right thing to do.

Come to think of it, there was a stupid lookin’ brigand with ‘em too. Not that it made a difference, the good ‘ol mountain took ‘em all out anyways.

Marty too. All of them met with a terrible fate that could have been avoided. She remembered how the rest of the unit returned in a hurry too. Through the rapid thundering of horse hooves against the rock, she remembered a blue haired bow knight leading the herd. He wore a grey and black tunic and white pants, though perhaps such little details were irrelevant in the wake of everything else.

Thracia’s border patrol is on the move! Commander, we have to retreat!

She remembered the blue haired teen yelling this with urgency. Evidently, not even mercenaries wanted to be caught meddling under the south’s nose — the whole unit pulled back in the direction of Munster immediately. Still, her thoughts lingered even now. If what that teen said was true, that means Osian, Halvan, and Ronan could have been…

Her eyes completely shut themselves now. She had already failed Dagdar, and now the others could be stranded in the mountains or worse. It was sickening, yet… she still had to believe. Everything was falling apart, but it'd all amount to something in the end. She’d be sure of it, sure that everyone would escape — her daughter, Nanna… and Leif. After all, when she first met the boy, he was willing to throw everything he had on the line.

The vivid image of him pointing that golden blade at her in the rain, it resurfaced with perfect clarity. He showed such determination in spite of everything, such purpose. All these years later, she began to wonder if it was really him who had helped her that day. The image soon faded as her eyes opened, looking instead out into the arena floor from behind the bars.

“Yes, I will be sure of it.” Her voice was strong like her determination. “Even if it costs me my-” Her words came to a screeching halt and her body shot up from the bench at the snap of a finger. Something in the air changed, setting her entire being into a state of distress . She could feel it, the presence of something powerful nearby. Her mind became clouded and sweat came from her temples as she frantically scanned the area. The swordswoman looked back and forth into the darkness that branched off deeper into the hideaway, but there was nothing to be seen!

“What the hell..?” Her head swung around a couple more times, still with nothing to show for it. Her eyes failed her, but she knew better. Standing there, she took a deep breath before turning her entire body to the left. She stared into the darkness with narrow eyes. This feeling, it was in that direction. Was someone watching her?

“Who’s there?” she called out. She waited, the sound reverberating its way through the room and back to her. No reply. “Are you one of Raydrik’s men?” She waited again. Still, there was nothing. Options were dwindling. She swallowed hard, and although it was against her better judgment, Eyvel began to walk into the left side of the room.

Each step was slow and calculated and her ears were primed. They awaited a sound, any sound, so long as it wasn’t produced by her; it never came. She reached what appeared to be the wall of the left side and stopped. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, that couldn’t be. Maybe they were above her? Or perhaps below? As soon as that thought crossed her mind, however, she heard it — the faint sound of a footstep, except it came from behind.

The blonde immediately swung herself around, and finally, she saw something from within the darkness on the other side of the room. Eyes — glowing of silvery green in color — and they were directed right at her. She stared back into them for the moment as if entranced. Despite the unfamiliar color, the longer she stared, there was… something about those eyes. It was like she’d seen them before, that she knew them. After a few seconds passed, she was able to start making out a silhouette in the darkness — a tall man. She took a step forward, but as she did, the gleam disappeared.

Eyvel jumped, taking a stance and waiting for something to leap out. It didn’t. She then dragged herself around again to look at the wall. Nothing was behind her either. Her eyes were left shaking, locked up to no end by the ensuing phenomenon. Was she going insane? Doubt took root within her, yet no sooner did another sound arrive behind her.

The barred door was opened and slammed shut. The sound of metal resonated through the room until slowly fizzling out. Eyvel waited, scrunching her face before turning around one last time. Once again… nothing was there. Her breaths were audible now, she refused to take her eyes off the door. Cautiously, she made her way back to the light that seeped in from the bars. With anticipation, she peeked outside to the arena floor; an audible gasp escaped her lips.

“What..” She could only manage a whisper. After a few moments, her entire body went numb, causing her to lean back and collapse into the bench. Even through the fall, however, her eyes never moved from the outside floor.

…Nothing.

The dungeon

With Leif and Karin’s added support, the rest of the soldiers in the room would go down. They were gathered in the center between all the pillars. For those who maintained consciousness, their arms were restrained as Brighton and Machyua questioned them. Leif, Karin, Lara, and the villagers stood a few feet back, the former two having their wounds healed by potions found on the guards.

“I am going to ask one more time: where are you holding the child prisoners?” Brighton leaned forward and pressed his hand down firmly on one of the knights’ shoulders. Machyua stood right beside him with her arms crossed.

“You better fess up sooner or later. Working under Raydrik, I’m sure you realize how patience can wane,” the sword fighter threatened. The repeated tapping of her foot and posture was as good a sign as any she wasn’t joking around.

“I-I already told you that none of us know!” The knight’s eyes drooped downwards as if to match the distress in his voice. His eyes hopped frantically between the two magi before halting at Brighton with a grunt. “What’s the deal, anyways? Beatin’ us up and restrainin’ us like this — we used to be allies, Brighton!”

Hearing this, the axe cavalier’s face became stern. He pulled his hand away and stood upright like before. “You should know by now those days are behind me.” Brighton abruptly turned his back on the soldiers, his cape producing a dramatic swoosh. “The fact none of you have woken up and followed suit is proof the knights are no better now than they were then.” He’d heard enough for now, moving to regroup with Leif and the others. Machyua shot the soldiers a glare before following behind.

“Well, it looks like those guards aren’t gonna tell us anything useful,” Machyua reported with a sigh. “Still, I gotta say the two of you helped us out big time. Thanks.” The sword fighter flashed a smile at Karin and then Leif. The former shrugged rather bashfully.

“Oh, ya know, it’s nothin’.” Karin then gave a smile as well, watching as the sword fighter and cavalier walked by. Leif’s face maintained a neutral expression as if engrossed in something

“Lara!” Brighton gave a wave with his hand at the black haired thief. She was still with the villagers, but the call caused her to perk up.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s scope around the perimeter. With all the things scattered around here, we might find something useful,” the cavalier instructed, maintaining his stride with Machyua behind. There were cots, tables, and various sacks laying around on the floors. All were suitable places to hide a map, potions, or anything in between. Lara gave a nod and soon ran over to the other two magi. This left the villagers in the company of Leif and Karin, though the prince hardly noticed.

Amidst his neutral expression, Leif’s eyes had been scanning the room for a while now. Each time they grew narrower; something wasn’t right here and they knew it. At the same time, Karin eyed the slim sword she held once more. Against all expectations, this weapon ended up being essential for the victory. The fact a certain cowardly man knew what he was talking about was even more surprising.

This thought made the junior knight seize up for a moment. Was coward really the best name for him? After all, he did risk his life to buy them time. Karin sighed. “Geez. I guess I owe that scoundrel an apology.”

Leif’s mind subconsciously filtered out her words. His neutral expression had gradually changed to a scowl, and with one last sweep of the room, his hunch was proven true. Something — no — someone was missing.

You think you can go help Karin out? I’ve got this one.

His eyes went wide. Fergus, he was gone. His gaze then moved. Upon glancing over to the group of detained soldiers, he realized the knight they fought was as well. Distress was creeping over him. If they weren’t here, then… where were they?

“Where is that guy anyways?” Karin’s words broke through this time, though the timing sent chills through the prince’s body. Had he been thinking out loud without realizing it?

“Huh?” His expression turned innocent.

“That brown haired guy, the one who was running away. Have you seen him?” Karin reiterated. Leif looked to the floor. Did she mean Lifis?

“No, I was…” He looked back up and did another scan of the room. The three magi were moving things around by this point, but there was indeed no sign of Lifis either. “I was looking for Fergus, but… it looks like it’s not just him.”

“Ah!” Karin then looked around in a frenzy. She couldn’t find the blond either, Leif was right. “Oh crap!” The prince remained still as the junior knight swung her head around a couple more times. “Come to think of it, those other thugs are gone too,” she added, recalling the few brigands that followed Lifis around.

At this, Leif’s head lowered and his eyes grew dim. He forced his brain to recall all that it could, yet there was nothing aside from the obvious. “Fergus was fighting that one knight. The one with the green armor,” he spoke softly.

“Uhm, excuse me?” A voice from behind. Both Karin and Leif turned around. It was the younger of the two women. “If you’re looking for that blond man, I saw him go through those halls over there,” she finished, pointing over to the exit in question.

Leif’s eyes examined it closer. The surrounding walls showed a bit of damage. He recalled running into Lifis somewhere near there as well, it was definitely possible. “You’re certain of this?”

“Y-Yes,” the woman confirmed. Her words trailed off as if there was more to say, but that more never came. Leif’s focus on that exit only heightened, however. The answer on what to do, it was more than obvious.

“I have to go after him.” Karin jolted in place.

“What?! You’re not thinking of just leaving everyone here, are you?”

“I can’t let him go off on his own! What happens if he runs into more guards?”

“I know, but.” Karin paused, taking a moment to look over at the magi. “Wouldn’t it be smarter if you wait?” She turned back, but doing so made her realize an error. The look he gave her — she knew better. Just wait. How foolish that must be to say with everything that happened in Silesse. “What about yourself?” She finally reiterated. A pause fell.

Himself? The prince’s scowl returned. “I’m going.” Without hesitation, Leif ran off directly towards the damaged halls, leaving Karin to yell after him. Her face melted with the realization it didn’t matter. Regardless of that, neither noticed as the village woman passively raised a hand after him.

“W-Wait, there’s something I should tell you,” she spoke softly, but to no ears that listened. The junior knight’s attention wavered solely between the three magi and Leif as he ran away. The options pounded in her head like a migraine. Why did she of all people have to make this choice? Looking at the magi, she bit down hard on her lip.

“Darn it!” Karin spun herself around and ran after Leif. As for the villagers themselves, the woman could only watch the teens run.

“I wish I had said something sooner.” This caught the attention of the man among them.

“What’s up?”

“The knight their friend was fighting. I recognize him.” Her hands clasped. “Even from a distance, I could tell. It was Dalsin.”

Footsteps rumbled through the halls. Leif and Karin ran through them, wind assaulting their hair from the speed alone. The constant echoing made it near impossible to hear anything else and nothing but stone and the occasional torch could be seen along the way. Still, Leif’s eyes were locked forward. After nearly a minute of running, something finally came into view. He planted his feet firmly, skidding to a stop with Karin doing the same from behind. A branch in the path. Of course there was.

“What… what do we do now?” Karin’s voice was laced with panting. Her hands were slouched to her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Those breaths, they were the last element to create this perfect dissonance in Leif’s mind. Of course, the choice was his. What would Eyvel do in a situation like this?

Traveling in the dark is a great bit different. Your eyes won’t have the light to guide them, so… you’ll have to be extra considerate of the environment.

His thoughts narrowed in on something she told him when leaving Iz. It wasn’t exactly the same situation, but perhaps it could still prove helpful. He took a deep breath as Karin’s subsided. The halls were quiet again save for his own footsteps as he walked up closer to the fork. His eyes shut, trying to latch onto anything his thoughts produced as logical. After seconds of complete silence, something came to him. A low humming and hiss, perhaps belonging to voices, footsteps, or even weapons. They came from the left.

“...Let’s go left.”

Karin perked up. “Left? Are you sure?”

Leif drew in a long breath and spoke, “Only one way to find out.” He then started down the path, though a bit slower than before. The sounds gradually grew louder with each passing second, the clinking of what sounded like falling armor being added to the mix as well. Exactly what he was hoping to hear.

“That… sounds like fighting…” Karin murmured from behind. If anything, she was impressed by the prince’s deduction. Was it his natural senses as a crusader's descendant? If not that, he must have had a good teacher — maybe even better than her own. Or maybe she just had to keep trying harder, such were her thoughts as she readied her sword once more.

Hearing the metal from behind, Leif followed Karin’s example and drew his Light Brand. The two teens were nearing a bend in the pathway as the armor sounds reached their peak in volume, accompanied by what sounded like a harsh wind. Strange, but even stranger was how the halls went completely silent after the peak. The cut off halted the prince and Karin along with him.

“What was that..? I-Is it over..?” the junior knight whispered. She was referring to the battle. The question caused Leif’s mind to brew. This silence, was it a sign Fergus won? Yet there was that strange noise. He couldn’t keep himself from wondering if it was a sign a reinforcement had done the blond in. He cringed at the thought, but there was only one thing he could be certain of. Something was behind this bend in the wall, and it was waiting.

Leif put on a brave face, narrowing his eyes at the brick. He took small steps and preemptively readied a swing. He stopped himself one last time, waiting for a sound that would soon come — an approaching footstep. At the tone, Leif lunged around the bend with the intent to strike whatever it was that approached.

As he rounded the corner, something flashed before his eyes. Suddenly, he took what felt like a wall. The force of the collision knocked the wind out of his body and caused him to fall backwards, but he maintained his footing. Karin’s voice hit his ears like a phantasm as his vision adjusted. She was most likely asking if he was okay.

“Ouch!”

Another voice, though in front of him this time… or was it below? He began to make out a figure laid out on the ground. Did he knock them over? His vision stabilized, at last seeing what appeared to be a teenage boy. He wore a blue tunic and cape. His head was hung down, but Leif could still make out turquoise colored hair.

Turquoise.

Seeing that color, his eyes expanded in an instant. It couldn’t be.

“You better stay down if ya know what’s good for you!” Karin jogged over to the scene, angling her blade downwards with a hostile stance. “We’re taking all you Munster cronies down!”

“I’m not with Munster!” the boy in blue retaliated, though his head remained down. He was still recoiling from the collision. Karin wouldn’t budge, however.

“Oh yeah?” she challenged, raising her blade as if to strike when another voice appeared from further in the halls.

“Karin?”

“Huh?” Her eyes rose at once, just as quickly dilating from what she saw walking amidst the fallen soldiers. Brown hair, similarly colored robes, and a blue cape. Hawk. Her mouth went agape as the sage approached, yet his expression showed even more astonishment.

“It is you! What are you doing here?” he asked in disbelief. “Wait, is Misha here too?”

“Uhm, well...” Karin stuttered, realizing now she wasn’t actually prepared for this encounter. This confirmed at least one thing, however. She turned her gaze back to the grounded mage now. “Oh crud, then you’re…”

“I told ya so,” the turquoise haired mage remarked with a rub to his head. His voice had a distinct flavor of sass to it.

All the while, Leif’s body continued to lock up in said mage’s presence. That tone too . The teen mage gave a few more rubs to his head before at last looking up.

“Wow, this really smarts-” The pendulum struck… Their eyes met.

Asbel?

Grann Calendar Year 767

“Hey.” Leif had been sitting on a bench when a vaguely familiar voice addressed him from behind. He turned around, spotting a turquoise haired boy about his age — the same one he ran into a few days ago.

“...Hi,” the prince greeted in return. He didn’t mean to come off as dismissive, though his tone carried that energy regardless. The boy didn’t appear to mind, moving around the bench as leaves crunched beneath his feet.

They were on the outskirts of Hrest where the mild density of trees began to shed at this time of year. The bench was on a circle of dirt that fed out to a path beneath the trees, said path surrounded by much taller blades of grass. The green haired boy took a look down the leaf ridden path. The blonde girl and tall blue haired knight from the other day were farther down it. Soon enough, he took a seat on the bench next to the prince, but not too close.

“I’m sorry I was so rude the other day n’ all,” the boy piped up. He kicked his feet as a sign of embarrassment which confused Leif. He was rude? When?

“Uhm, that’s okay,” Leif insisted. A breeze fell onto the area as he looked over to the boy. He wasn’t convinced by the prince’s answer. “You didn’t bother me.” This addition only deepened the green haired boy’s frown.

“I’m sorry.”

Leif tilted his head. Again? The green haired boy's lips parted painfully, however.

“You don’t wanna be here, do you?” he finally forced out. The breeze picked up. The forwardness of the statement surprised Leif.

“What?”

The green haired boy looked up and into the prince’s eyes. “My pa told me what happened,” he admitted. “To your home.”

“Oh,” Leif spoke plainly. He looked down at his lap amidst the ensuing silence, beginning to tap his fingers against his opposing hand. What the boy said didn’t exactly make him sad, but it was still a reminder of red skies and tears that’d never escape his memories.

“I shouldn’t have said you were lucky,” the boy added with shame. Just like that, Leif’s attention returned to him. He stared at the boy as a sensation of awareness came upon him. Lucky. Was there really anything wrong about that? He made it out of Leonster alive, and he got to travel outside the palace with Finn before the rest of the knights did. On top of it all, in Ulster, he was given the warmest of welcomes despite being an outsider.

“I think I’m lucky,” Leif said, to the boy’s surprise. “The king and queen were kind to us. Especially Miss Ethnia.” With a taste of something bittersweet, he recalled how the queen sent him off with a gift. Finn held onto it for now, but the boy was determined to use it someday — just like his mother. “It was fun being friends with Princess Miranda too,” he admitted at last. The bitter half of his feelings seeped out with his words this time.

“You’re not friends anymore?” the boy asked innocently. Leif paused. This question really perplexed him, the whole situation did. He didn’t understand why Dryas was so insistent that he leave the palace so suddenly, why only Nanna and Finn came with him, and why Finn never answered the question of when the other knights would come.

“I’m just confused,” Leif murmured. His mind latched onto something warm; the fun Nanna and himself had with the princess, the care Miranda’s parents had shown him. It was almost like his own parents were still around. “I miss them.” Whether or not he noticed, a subtle tear escaped his eyes.

The boy next to him saw it all. He wanted so badly to say ‘maybe we can be friends?’, heck, anything to cheer him up. Was that really proper, though? In spite of it all, he managed to force out something. “This is where I practice my magic, ya know?”

The pivot was successful. Leif’s head moved to the side, though slowly. “Oh really?” he replied as some of the previously seen pain was replaced by intrigue.

“Mhm,” the boy confirmed with a nod. “If you’re gonna be in Hrest for awhile, maybe I can show you sometime?” At the question, Leif’s eyes expanded. “I-If you want to,” he soon reiterated upon seeing Leif's reaction. Was he being too forward again? To his surprise, the prince didn’t seem to think so.

“Sure,” Leif answered with a soft smile.The boy seized in shock for a moment, yet such a smile soon had the power to bring one out of him too.

“You mean it?” he confirmed as his smile grew even brighter. He never got to show off to anyone other than his father. Leif simply nodded and the boy reached over and clasped his hand. “Great! This will be tons of fun!” The sudden affection was a bit of a surprise for the prince, but he didn’t mind. Their smiles endured and the two looked each other in the eyes. The wind picked up once more. Even so, the breeze maintained its gentle serenity. “Oh! I’m Asbel, by the way!”

Leif’s heart dropped six feet under and desperately clawed towards the surface all at once. Hope and despair alike flowed within him, but for once, there was a light. Something pleasant from his memories was allowed to exist. The mage looking back into his eyes was at a loss himself, but they knew just as well as the prince. By some twist of fate, they had found each other again.

“Lord Leif…” the mage’s voice was soft as his eyes.

“Asbel, you-” Leif’s demeanor matched. Melodies of memories were brought to life, yet he could only say one thing. “You’re alive.” Perhaps it sounded foolish, but that fact meant more than any could imagine.

Asbel? No, he’s…

Safy’s hesitation to answer his question about the mage’s well-being returned. This had to be a miracle.

“Of course I am,” Asbel finally answered with sentiment. He pushed himself up to his feet, eying the prince and marveling at how he had grown. Both of them had. “I just can’t believe Lord Ced was right…”

“Lord Ced?” Leif questioned. He’d never heard this name.

“He’s the leader of our group called the Magi,” the voice of the brown haired sage answered from behind Asbel. “And also, the crown prince of Silesse.” That last detail arrived like a crushing cyclone.

Leif’s eyes widened, moving slowly from Asbel to the pegasus knight at his side. The prince?

Her leader is a very special man.

‘Special’ meant he was the Silessian prince? “Then Karin, you wanted to find him because-”

“He’s the prince, yes,” the junior knight answered before Leif even finished.

A silence fell onto the area. Asbel in particular shot Leif a certain look, as if waiting for the prince to talk to him or ask a certain question. The timing wasn't right. As he continued to eye his friend, the brightness in his eyes diminished. The timing. Something about this phrase ate away at him.

“Well then, the rest of your Magi are back the way Karin and I came,” Leif segwayed, turning away from the mage. “We were looking for a blond haired ally, so if you haven’t seen him, we should return.”

“That’s no problem. Hawk and I will gladly help, right?” Asbel insisted with a smile, one that Leif reluctantly ignored. The mage knew it too, effectively shifting the smile back upside down.

“Of course. Let’s be off then,” Hawk agreed. It was logical enough. Ced had traversed the other path, but they could at least meet up with the rest. Regardless, the sage shot Karin a look that the knight could only interpret.

“So this ally of yours, tell us more about them. Is there anything that would help with the search?” Hawk inquired again as the four of them began their stride. Karin rolled her eyes.

“Oh trust me, you won’t be able to miss him.”

Somewhere further in the prison halls...

While all of this was in motion, a clash resumed in the neighboring halls. Following an impact of axe and blade, a grinning blond mercenary could be seen rebounding off the walls and giving an aerial strike to the chest of a knight. They staggered, and the mercenary charged forward with another attack upon landing. The second attack landed as well, carrying enough force to knock the knight into the wall this time. Their body slid down the surface of the wall until finally collapsing.

“C’mon, get back up. I ain’t done with yeh yet!” Fergus taunted.

The knight grunted with fury, finding the strength to swing their axe again from the ground. Fergus easily weaved to the side as the weapon dug into the stone wall, but as he’d soon find out, hitting him wasn’t the knight’s intention. They grabbed firmly onto the handle of the stuck axe and used it to pull themselves back to their feet.

“Woah! Now that’s more like it!” Fergus then charged forward again. He aimed an attack for the knight’s arm as it held onto the axe, but they were able to dislodge the weapon at the last minute, matching Fergus’ swing with their own. Another clash ensued, and then another, effectively blocking two of Fergus’ strikes in a row.

At this, the mercenary leapt backwards. He took in his surroundings, noting how the path of the halls branched off at a corner to his left. The offshooting hallway lacked any sort of light for a reason he could only guess, but it’d still prove to be useful nonetheless.

He then took a stance, as if goading the knight into attacking first. They took the bait and charged right for the stationary merc. Instead of attempting to block the attack, Fergus pressed his hand onto the bend of the corner and jerked his body back at a 90 degree angle into the offshooting hallway. As the knight’s charge reached the corner, Fergus then propelled himself to kick them clean in the face before they could turn. The knight lost balance and Fergus capitalized, taking a diagonal slash down their torso, the cut slicing right through their armor and into the skin. The knight was soon grounded once more, and like many times before, Fergus glared down at the foe as if to mock them.

“Geez, how much more can ya take? Surprised yeh haven’t begged for mercy by now.” Each syllable came with further agitation to the knight. He couldn’t fathom how the blond derived so much enjoyment from a fight. Maybe he really was insane, or was this just the way of a mercenary?

“Tell me,” the knight began with a loud cough. “How is it that you fight so well yet so carelessly?”

Fergus thought for a moment before giving an exaggerated shrug. “Hm, good question.” He then shot a cheeky smile. “I’d wager not bein’ the lap dog of a bastard like Raydrik ‘sa good start.”

The knight growled at this. “You know nothing about why I fight!”

“Maybe, but I’m sure a helluva lot smarter than you.”

In a burst of energy, the knight rose to his feet with a roar. Not a second later, he’d leave his axe and full on charge at Fergus as if attempting to tackle him. The brazen nature of such a move caught Fergus off guard and his abdomen soon felt the full weight of the knight’s charge. His body was practically hydroplaning backwards into the lightless hallway as the knight showed no signs of stopping.

Fergus attempted to get a grip on his sword to retaliate, but the knight soon grabbed onto the blond’s sides and mercilessly hurled his body off to the side. Fergus’ back collided against a wall as a result, and the fact he now couldn’t see only made matters worse. The knight was surely still on top of him; he frantically moved his hands across the wall at his back to get to his feet. It was then that he felt something strange. A little off to the side, he felt a texture more akin to metal than the stone of the walls. Was it perhaps a door?

Fergus was up, just barely able to see as the silhouette of the knight readied a punch. He narrowly avoided it, and the sound of their fist colliding with the mysterious texture downright confirmed it. It sounded like a cell door. Fergus clutched up on his blade, giving a backwards swing and soon after hearing something open. A bit of light spilled into the hall now, a sign there was at least a torch or two inside. He then ran inside of it, forcing the knight to follow.

Once inside, there was a short hallway with light at the end of it. Fergus reached the corner first, rounding it into a new room. He waited at the center of the entrance for the knight’s approach, taking a defensive stance. The knight’s footsteps grew louder, and soon he rounded the corner as well. He charged towards Fergus like before, but the blond was ready this time. He narrowed his eyes and pivoted to the side before giving a powerful slash to the knight’s backside as they ran past. The blow was devastating and grounded the knight immediately; the sound of his fall was much heavier this time, nearly masking out his scream.

Fergus sheathed his blade, watching in contempt as all the knight could do now was crawl. It was clear he wouldn’t be getting up again. “Alright, fella. This fight’s over.” Those words really felt like hell’s gong. No matter how hard he tried, it wasn’t enough.

“Jubel, I’m sorry…”

Fergus walked slowly up towards the collapsed knight with blade in hand. It was time to end this.

“D-Dalsin!” A sudden high pitched voice pierced his ears, forcing him to look up. He finally took the chance to eye the room. It was pretty large in size, and the clearing in which he stood shot off to three other paths in the room. Torches lined the walls which were also fit with cell doors.

“Dalsin, you’re hurt!” At the second cry, Fergus’ eyes found the source and expanded. A child locked in a cage at the back wall.

“Jubel?” the knight replied weakly. Fergus looked down. So Dalsin was his name. “What are you… doing here?”

“Dalsin, a-are you gonna be okay?” the child whined, sending a twist down the blond’s spine.

“What the hell is this?” He looked back to Dalsin on the ground before grabbing him by the neck and raising him to his feet. The child wailed, but Fergus’ eyes remained focused. “So they’ve been right here, eh?”

“N-No, don’t hurt him!” Jubel’s pleas wouldn’t stop the mercenary.

“Did you know about this?”

The knight wheezed but in spite of that, his face showed more genuine shock than pain or fear. “...He tricked me…”

“Huh?”

Dalsin coughed again. “That kid, he’s my brother…” As Fergus held the knight by the neck, his glare wavered when looking into their eyes. “I didn’t know…” Fergus looked over to the child who was now in tears and then back to the knight. Before long, he released them, letting them drop back to the floor.

“Damn it,” the blond spat, running over to the cell that held the child. He had his blade ready, looking inside to see there were a few other children cowering behind Jubel as well. Some looked familiar from the battle in the castle town. “Look, I’m gonna get you guys out.” He gave a slice to the lock on the door, breaking it instantly. Once the door was open, however, the children just stared.

“I don’t want to go with you! You hurt Dalsin!” Jubel wailed, and it seemed the other children were of the same mind. Fergus briefly looked back to the knight and then the children again. He had beat him up pretty badly.

“I get it, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “If yeh don’t come with me though, yer gonna be doin’ way worse than he is.”

“B-But…” The children resisted still. What was he supposed to do now?

“Listen to him Jubel! All of you!” Fergus looked behind to see it was Dalsin who was now advocating for him. “His friends — they’ll make sure you’re safe…” The second part was quieter, but still audible nonetheless. Fergus looked back at the children and put his weapon away for good measure. He tried his best to flash a smile. Finally, the children ran out, though Jubel went to Dalsin instead.

Fergus got to watch the brothers’ reunion with a smile that was genuine now. After a while, he walked over to the brothers with the other children following behind. “I’d say that was fightin’ carelessly,” Fergus remarked once reaching the knight.

Dalsin looked up, still wincing through it all. “I’m done working for Raydrik,” he proclaimed. “I was just a coward who wanted to save my family’s skin more than anyone else, but no more.”

“Big brother, you should rest,” Jubel insisted, bear hugging his brother as the smile Fergus wore endured.

If this knight were really turning over a new leaf, who was he to deny it? The more he watched the young kid hug onto Dalsin, however, some other thought arrived to diminish his smile. The urge to punch himself for beating them up so badly arose. What good would this reunion do with his brother beaten like this?

“Alright, you wait here. Make sure your brother stays like that, alright?” Fergus knelt down, patting Jubel on the head. “I’m gonna see if I can get him some help.” The young boy smiled and gave a nod as Fergus stood back up. “The rest of you lil squirts stay put too.”

As time passed, the burden thankfully wouldn’t be on him alone. As Fergus had run through the halls, footsteps soon arrived to meet him. Surprise guests, more specifically Leif and the others, had arrived. After getting chewed out by Karin, Fergus explained the whole situation with Dalsin to Leif. With luck, Asbel and Hawk carried a potion or two to heal the knight.

As a result, the group got its newest member, Dalsin himself. After a quick sweep of the hidden room, Fergus, Dalsin, Hawk, and Karin had left to regroup with the rest of the Magi. They brought the children with them, leaving just Leif with Asbel left in the room. The former insisted on being the last to leave.

Before long, the prince and mage pair finished and were walking through the halls themselves. Unsurprisingly, Leif had a lot on his mind as always, but who could blame him this time? The words he had said to that knight when fighting him turned a little sour. He remembered his condescending tone, the glare he shot with it, and the thoughts of how absurd he found it for the knight to be complicit. Little did he know, Dalsin wasn’t fighting for himself, but he fought for his little brother’s safety.

When August explained the child hunts to him, he couldn’t help but wonder how anyone hadn’t tried to stop it. It was only recently that he began to realize that people did, but failed. Prisoners just like him, Karin, Fergus, or the villagers were taken for standing up against the Empire. Knights with feigning loyalty were blackmailed with false promises of their family’s safety. He now gladly accepted the help of Dalsin and even apologized, but that wasn’t enough. He’s hated the empire for as long as he could remember, so maybe now it was finally time.

“You’ve been awfully short for words, Leif.” It was Asbel’s voice, cutting right through his thoughts like a set of nails.

“Oh, I have?” He didn’t even realize it. “Sorry, I guess I just don’t have much to say.” That response was immediately odd to both of them. How could he not have anything to say? He was so happy to see Asbel again, yet it was as if it were just a temporary hit.

“Can ya at least look me in the eyes?”

Leif’s footsteps slowed. That iota of guilt he felt earlier returned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to catch up with his friend, but… why did it have to be here? Why did it have to be on the battlefield that they found each other again? In spite of it all, he forced himself to eye the mage at his side.

“Sorry about that. So you’re part of the Magi, huh?” Leif asked passively, giving in and pushing down his protests for the time being. Asbel smiled.

“That’s right! I’ve been helpin’ Lord Ced fend off the Empire for a good while now.” His answer was rather cheerful, but it didn’t feel that way for Leif. How could he be happy knowing Asbel left only to be faced with more fighting?

“I see. I’m sure your magic’s been a big help.” Leif gave an unenthusiastic nod.

“Heh, you bet,” Asbel remarked, though he soon caught onto the nature of Leif’s expression. Agitation began to build. “There it is again! Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

The prince could feel it now. The anchors of reality had fully come to sink what was supposed to be a happy moment. His lips quivered. “I guess I’m wondering why you came to Munster in the first place.”

“What do ya mean?” Asbel tilted his head. “It’s not obvious?”

“It’s just that-” The vivid image of Asbel a few years younger flashed before Leif’s eyes. “I thought you were still in Tahra.” Pain oozed from those words as he spoke them.

“Still in Tahra? N-no, I went after you three years ago.” Asbel’s words carried their own grief to the point his tone shifted slightly. It was like he was offended.

“All on your own?”

“Well, I had some help along the way, but yeah.”

These words struck the final chord. Suddenly, the prince halted. Asbel followed suit, yet not without taking the time to see how his old friend’s expression evolved. His eyes and lips alike now showed pure anguish.

“What?”

“I don’t understand…” Leif began softly. “Why would you risk so much just to find me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” The question from Leif was a betrayal in itself and the frustration in Asbel’s voice continued to build.

“Asbel, the day I left Tahra, I…” A burst of bloody imagery, flames, and screams hit him like it had many times before. “I almost died. There were soldiers everywhere and even more on the way.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine,” Asbel challenged. “I don’t see what’s so wrong here.” His voice now cracked between words making his aggravation painfully obvious. It wasn’t a sound Leif liked.

“I…” He paused, forming his next words carefully. “I never would have wished that sort of danger upon you.”

“So what would you have had me do? Stay in Tahra where you abandoned me?!” Asbel raised his voice now. The volume of his words startled the prince, the content of them terrified him.

“W-What?”

“Are you telling me that in all these years you never considered how I might have felt?” the mage lashed out. Leif didn’t know how to respond.

“Asbel, I-”

“Don’t you remember the promise we made to each other when we first arrived in Tahra? I certainly do!” Asbel put his body into his words now, getting up into Leif’s face and swinging his arms. Leif instinctively cowered backwards and raised his own arm as if to block a potential onslaught.

“Promise… of course,” he answered, unsure of himself.

“Then why did you leave on your own? Surely you knew I’d have gone with you no matter how dangerous it was!” Asbel retracted his arm into a fist, his eyes stirred like a tornado. “Or was it just an empty promise?” His words concluded, adamantly turning his back on the prince. Leif felt utterly helpless in the wake of Asbel’s accusation. He couldn’t deny what the mage was saying as much as it pained him. Still, although his lips would part, he couldn’t find the words.

“I finally find you again and the first thing I get is a lecture about how I shoulda stayed behind,” Asbel continued with his back turned. “Maybe Princess Miranda was right about you.”

Everything stopped. An arrow reached the prince’s heart, bringing with it an excruciating pain. His face became twisted as a certain darkness he’d never shown crept over his eyes. “Asbel..!”

All control of his emotions and senses alike slipped away. Those words hit like the grim reaper, uprooting years of regrets in one fell swoop as that same phrase — those damned words — crawled from their rotting grave to haunt him.

You never keep your promises and you’re just gonna run away again!

Tears inevitably came and the prince collapsed to the floor. The sound immediately got Asbel’s attention, swinging around and seeing the state Leif was in. The tears, the vile dark and twisted look of his face — he caused it.

“N-No, wait, I didn’t mean that.” His face softened, knowing he went too far. It was to no avail. The mage then proceeded to kneel down by the prince. He desperately grasped at Leif’s hand with one of his own and attempted to wipe his tears with the other. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he pleaded. Leif’s breaths were heavy as if hyperventilating.

“No, you’re right, I,” he struggled between heaves. “I should have been more considerate.” His eyes, no entire face, showed nothing but pain. It was a look the mage hadn’t seen in a long time. All he could do was try to comfort the prince. “I’m sorry, Asbel.”

“It’s fine, okay?” the boy whispered softly, continuing to hold onto the prince’s hand. “I’m not that mad anymore, I promise…” The two remained like this for a while, holding onto each other. His breathing began to slow, and as the seconds passed, Leif regained composure.

“You… shouldn’t have had to see this,” the prince murmured. In fact, he didn’t want Asbel to speak of what he saw to anyone. Asbel simply shook his head, however, moving both hands to hold onto Leif’s. He could feel it, their pulse in unison.

“Listen, Lord Leif,” he began just as softly. “If you’re gonna lay everything on the line to restore Tharcia, then I am too. I’ll live and die by your side, that’s never gonna change.”

Leif lowered his head. “I.. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well I do,” the mage proclaimed. “Is there anything I can do to help out?” With their position the same, Leif looked back up now. Asbel’s eyes were genuine — the same as they had always been. How could he have gone wrong to squander this trust years ago? Help, yes, he’d need a lot of that to finish the job in Munster.

In response to the mage’s question, Leif’s weary eyes straightened. “..You remember Nanna, don’t you?”

Munster Palace - First Floor

Upon Raydrik’s request, Nanna had been summoned to the arena. A couple soldiers marched in front of her down the palace halls as her escorts — though she hardly needed them. She had come to be familiar with nearly every inch of the palace, making their presence feel more like a means to keep her from running away. As if she’d even consider doing that. Still, she had a pretty good hunch as to why she was called.

Then... your future duch*ess is ordering you to go home.

It was such a reckless thing for her to say, to dismiss that knight, and yet… despite the fear she felt in this moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to outright regret it. No matter what happened, she could at least be happy knowing that a father had one more night with his child. Her pulse intensified at the fanged brand at her breast as her emerald eyes rose.

In front of her, the spireing walls of the indoor arena came into view. She could see as soldiers entered the large gated door, the sound of gathering voices becoming evident as well. The phenomenon caused her to exhale deeply. What really terrified her about this situation even more than the consequences was how unorthodox it all was. If Raydrik sought to punish her, why summon her instead of coming to her directly? An even better question — why summon her to the arena of all places? Did he truly intend to humiliate her in front of the entire castle guard? Or worse… assert himself? The unbearable sensation that came with his carnal touch — it returned to her as her face melted into distress where it would stay.

No matter the case, the princess would have her answer soon enough. Off to the side of the arena’s gated entrance, Raydrik was waiting. His grin was as wide as could be, as if his menacing gaze wasn’t enough to show he had something truly rotten in store. Strangely enough, his face appeared to wear a few cuts and bruises too. As for where he got them, she was none the wiser. Still, Nanna’s heels soon clicked to a halt, masking the gulp she released as Raydrik dismissed the two soldiers who had brought her.

“My, how nice it is of you to join us, Miss Nanna. I must say, the festivities haven’t even begun, so why is it that I already see such a look from you?” Raydrik mused, taking note of the distressed expression she maintained. He then whimsically placed a finger to his chin. “Slept on your neck wrong? Perhaps you’re afflicted with a headache?” The Nordion princess gave no response, prompting Raydrik to narrow his gaze as all the playfulness subsided. “Or is it because you know that you defied me?” His voice dropped almost an entire octave that made the princess’ gut churn.

So he knew. Nanna felt the fear attempt to overtake her, yet her lips quivered and pursed. She wanted to speak out, to affirm that nothing about what she had done was wrong. Evidently, Raydrik noticed the struggle at her lips too as he raised his brow.

“Why do you do this?” The words escaped Nanna’s mouth. “Those men are loyal to you, and yet you treat them like this… it’s horrible…” How could anyone think otherwise? Such a response only heightened Raydrik’s interest, however, as a smile returned to him.

“Loyal?” Raydrik then boldly moved to caress Nanna’s hair, forcing a gasp from her. “Oh, dear Nanna, their allegiance to me is merely conditional.” As her breathing intensified, he playfully fingered her locks in a way that felt even more assertive than before.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away as his eyes darkened. He then began to move. Nanna could hear as his footsteps traveled behind her. Her pulse excelled, but her eyes and head alike refused to shift.

“I know every single one of those knights are preying on my downfall, and soon enough, they’ll attempt to oppose me.” There was now a pause in his words. “Just like you did.”

The princess yelped, feeling his hands suddenly latch onto her bare shoulders as his voice deepened again. Her body tightened all over, yet Raydrik took great satisfaction in it all. He wore a grin, rubbing her bare shoulders and upper arms until finally pulling away after a few agonizing moments.

Nanna was left in a mess of her own breaths, face deep red in embarrassment. She clutched tight onto the fabric of her green dress, however, as if to keep it from slipping beneath her chest. On top of it all, her stance became defensive. Once Raydrik circled back in front of her, he let out a laugh at the sight. This defensiveness, it was new.

“Ooh, the modesty,” he teased before resuming his previous thought. “Really, don’t judge me so harshly. If you were in my position, you’d find that such discipline is necessary to maintain order,” Raydrik mused, keeping his eyes on the princess. By now, Nanna had let go of her dress and returned to her normal posture. Her heavy breathing remained, however. “What am I saying? Soon enough, you will be.”

Hearing this, Nanna looked down adamantly. “...I’ll never be like you…” She watched her chest raise and lower with each breath as her words trailed off. Once she eventually looked up, it became evident that her eyes had changed. At least for this moment, her resentment overpowered her fear. Raydrik stared into that new glare with a plain expression.

“You really have grown a bit of thicker skin, haven’t you?” the duke observed before clasping his hands behind his back. “I wonder — was it perhaps from seeing Princess Ishtar?”

At once, Nanna’s eyes expanded.

“Strong willed and beautiful, I’d imagine she’s the perfect role model for girls like you,” Raydrik continued.

Nanna’s thoughts brewed as she bit her lips shut. What was she supposed to say? Was he referring to their simple meeting… or did he somehow know about their other encounters?

“Still, you’re far from a Goddess of Thunder,” Raydrik finished with satisfaction, seeing as the fear in Nanna’s eyes had now returned as soon as it left. “Now as for your punishment, since you’ve been so amusing, I’ve chosen to forego it.”

Nanna’s emerald eyes flickered in confusion. “...What?”

“Indeed,” Raydrik nodded. “As it so happens, I even have a gift for you.” He pulled the slit of his upper robes aside to reveal a sheathed blade to the princess. “I believe this is yours,” he then withdrew it, exposing a sight Nanna was all too familiar with: her mother’s Earth Sword. She couldn’t believe her eyes, knowing for a fact that she dropped it back at Fort Kelves.

“How did you…” Nanna began to speak, only for Raydrik to put a finger to her lips.

“Now just wait, that’s the second part of your little gift.” After pulling his finger away, he sheathed the blade and untied it from his belt. He then boldly moved to tie the sheath to the pink ribbon Nanna wore at her hips. The contact was more than uncomfortable for her. “I would like for us to watch the upcoming arena matches together. In front of all my soldiers, it’s important for you to be at your most… complete in appearance.” He then sneered. “Wouldn’t you agree, oh lost princess from a family of warriors?”

Nanna looked down to the blade at her hips. Why give her a weapon? Was it merely a taunt as if he knew she wouldn’t fight back? Her mind lodged on what Ishtar said about pride. Having the weapon didn’t make her feel any safer. In fact, it didn’t make her feel anything.

“Either way, I assure you that attending will be in your best interest.” Raydrik began again, forcing her to look back up. What exactly did he mean by that? Before she had time to dwell, the duke turned his attention to one of the soldiers entering the arena off to their side.

“You! Inform the fighters that the games are to begin at my arrival in the spectator’s chamber.”

“Yes, milord!” the soldier agreed with a bow.

“Now, let’s get a move on, my dear.” Raydrik then took her hand, the contact immediately sending shivers down her spine. He led her around the curved outside walls of the arena, moving away from the entrance until stopping at another — much smaller — door.

Once opened, it gave view to stairs that were going up. The two then began to climb with Nanna following behind. Raydrik had, for some unknown reason, dropped the topic of Ishtar entirely, yet for Nanna, she marveled at how pathetic she must appear right now. Taken by the hand, still powerless. What would she do?

Her eyes were locked on Raydrik's hair as the stairs continued to ascend. In it, she began to see the thunder princess’ off-colored optic — her brown eye. Nanna knew she had befriended it before, yes, there was no doubt. She had seen it a time long ago, shared with two fond memories of her past.

Lower castle stairway…

The flames of a torch danced upon Ishtar’s brown eye as she descended the stairs before her. Her stride was confident, and her face was clear of distractions. The important meeting she was invited to — that Prince Julius invited her to — was almost underway. As she descended the stairs, she had to admit she found a little oddity around the whole scenario. From meetings past with her family, they were always held somewhere more regal. It was a stark contrast to the appearance of these stairs, the aura that came with it. It didn’t help that the only sound to be heard were her heels clicking against the stone, save for the occasional rattle of the sword strapped to her belt.

These feelings were further justified as she reached the bottom. The space of the room was rather small, constructed only out of brick. The walls were decorated with unintelligible markings, and at every corner laid a stone statue resembling a person. Who each of them were, Ishtar had no way of knowing. Lastly, the only source of light was directly at the center, being a large frame that encased an even larger pyre in the middle. She stared deep into the blaze, noting how practically everything about this room felt intentionally designed to be unsettling. Despite the temptation, however, her heart remained steady. Cowardice was a sign of weakness, and if this meeting were truly so important, she’d bring nothing but House Friege’s best.

After a few moments, her eyes left the flames. The sound of her heels started up once more as she paced slowly around the room, noting how the echo was much more compacted now due to the size. As she rounded the flame, it appeared she was the only one present. Had she gone to the wrong room? Her face scrunched as her mind entertained the potential embarrassment of such a mistake, yet something soon caught in the corner of her right eye shifted her attention.

Those markings on the wall, she couldn’t deny that the bizarre nature of them was alluring. She moved to examine them closer. From what she could tell, they depicted stick figured people along with serpent-like effigies. The people appeared to gather around said serpent, or so that’s how it looked. The rough nature of the drawings made it hard to be sure — it was like a child had made them. Her eyes grew weary as she looked across more of the symbols. Without fail, a serpent of some kind was present every time.

“You must be Lord Julius’ honored guest.”

Ishtar swung around immediately at the sound of the voice causing her cape to blow. She instinctively got into a battle stance, readying a hand near her hips to grab either her sword or tome. To her surprise, however, as she looked across the large flame, she saw nothing.

“Be at peace, I have no intentions for something as imprudent as a fight.”

The voice sounded again, except this time, Ishtar was able to catch the makings of a silhouette in the shadows. She swiftly pulled a red colored book from her waist, opening it as the image of a flame became engraved in her mind. A ball of fire soon emerged from her hand and she waved her arm to hurl it into the pyre, causing it to grow. The light grew brighter as a result, now clearly unveiling the silhouette to be a rather short hooded man wearing beige and green colored robes that covered everything but his face. The outfit was complete with golden highlights along the robes and a decorated purple gem held at the forehead. The most notable feature about him, however, were his soulless glowing white eyes. The image of the man caused Ishtar’s lips to part. She knew very well what kind of person this had to be.

“I didn't realize I was to meet with members of the Loptr Church,” the thunder princess remarked sternly.

“Apologies for the unruly introduction, then, madam.” The cloaked man took a bow. “I am Veld, faithful servant of Loptous and one of Archbishop Manfroy’s four grand ministers. Speak ill, and you may find yourself akin to one of these trinkets.” His arm swayed to the side, gesturing to one of the stone statues laid about the room. Ishtar remained unfazed.

“I care not for your name nor station.” She replaced the red tome onto her belt and crossed her arms beneath her chest. “I have no intention of co-operating with your kind.”

“Really? By ‘someone of my kind’, pray tell what you mean,” Veld inquired with some amusem*nt. The sound of his voice was as if listening to a ghost. Ishtar was more focused on the content of his words, however. The gall he had to ask such a question, it was enough to make her scowl.

“Deceivers, manipulators, those who won’t think twice of separating a child from their home,” she began in a list, jumping quickly from one point to the next but never discarding the condescension in her tone. “I detest the very ground at which you walk.” The flame lit up her eyes showing the anger that lay behind them. Her sentiments reflected that of her brother’s to Raydrik the day before.

“My, your words are quite strong.” Veld’s brow slumped for a moment, shaking his head as if taking offense. “Lord Julius speaks highly of you, yet do you imagine he feels the same?” Ishtar’s eyes expanded heinously as the fury in them grew further.

“Leave him out of this,” she snapped back, stepping forward and extending an arm. “Your church preys on his kindness — his willingness to lend an ear to a voice that speaks only of destruction.”

Veld couldn’t help but laugh at this. “You may think what’s comforting, however, allow me to share some wisdom.” His body then vanished, causing the princess’ eyes to flicker. “As the guest, do mind your tongue.” Suddenly, his voice sounded from behind, accompanied by a hand to her shoulder. “Perhaps take a page from your mother and aid in steering Jugdral anew.”

She shut her eyes tightly in response to his words and touch alike. Moving a hand to the sword at her belt, her body vibrated ever so slightly. “This is your only warning to take that hand off me.” Veld’s eyes shined brighter for a moment in intrigue. He was impressed, although briefly. Once that feeling faded, he did as asked with a grin. Ishtar wasn’t finished, however.

“And if I ever see any of you harm Lord Julius, you’d be a fool to assume I’ll show even an iota of hesitation.” She didn’t bother to turn around, leaving Veld to sneer in her shadow as a silence ensued. Before too long, however, her eyes lit up as she sensed a presence nearby.

At the same time, Veld’s body warped back to another side of the pyre. “Ah, it appears my master has arrived!” Veld proclaimed before taking a knee near the flames.

Ishtar showed no such respect — at least to one of the new guests — simply staring as two peculiar circles appeared on the ground in front of where Veld had kneeled. They brought a dark aura with them and a wind that seemed to feed the fire rather than put it out. Soon enough, Julius came into view, and at his side was a much shorter man only a little taller than her cousin. His robes were red with gold highlights, and a face that appeared slightly deformed peered through the hood he wore.

“Archbishop Manfroy and Prince Julius, I am unworthy that you grace my presence,” Veld greeted as he remained knelt in front of them. The one identified as Manfroy appeared to flash a smile from beneath his hood.

“You may rise, Veld. I trust that you bring good news to report.” Manfroy’s voice was somehow more distorted and ghastly than Veld’s, carrying with it the potential to frighten even those of thicker skin.

“Naturally, your grace,” Veld heeded, standing up as their conversation resumed. In spite of everything, Ishtar had tuned the two dark bishops out of her mind. Instead, her attention was directed at Julius from across the flame. He was the first pleasant sight she’s had all day, and she’d be more than sure to cherish it.

As was evident to her, Julius felt the same, giving her a gaze right back. He wore a smile, one that remained as the teen paced over to the thunder princess. She couldn’t help but give one in return. Once reaching her, he had to slightly gaze up and her down for their eyes to meet.

“It pleases me to see you here, Ishtar,” Julius spoke with jazz, carrying a warmth that reached her core almost immediately.

“Of course, Lord Julius,” she began with a small blush. “After you so generously invited me, it’d be most shameful to not attend.”

At this, Julius’ eyes softened as well. “Indeed, but I wasn’t worried. I know my faith in you is well placed.”

Ishtar’s smile grew brighter still. She wanted to hold onto this moment, its softness and the ease to her worries that came with it, but it was apparent that wouldn’t be the case. The white noise of Manfroy and Veld’s voices became intrusive.

“Lord Julius,” Manfroy’s voice echoed. “Shall we begin?”

Julius' eyes, brilliant gems they were, showed a brief reluctance as he looked to the side — away from Ishtar, almost immediately causing her smile to disperse. Soon, his whole body turned to face the flame as her gaze plummeted to the earth. Grounded.

“Ah, yes. Let us be on with it,” the prince answered. With the moment spoiled, Ishtar reluctantly followed suit, knowing she’d be sentenced to the ramblings of two mad men in doing so. Her expression made a full transit to painful indifference as she looked into the flame. It dwindled ever gradually, yet held out in the changing elements.

Arena

“Alright, miss, it’s time to get up!”

Words spoken in forte assaulted Eyvel’s ears as her eyes were forced open. She was greeted by those same damned bars, except this time, the sight was seasoned. A guard was posted at the door, carrying with him a set of keys and a simple blade. Her eyes made daggers as she rose, taking note of the stereo walla that developed since her mysterious encounter as she paced to the door. Proof the arena was no longer empty, that a crowd had gathered. As for said horrific encounter, she made an effort to drown it.

“For what purpose?” Eyvel asked resentfully upon reaching the door, but the question was ultimately pointless. The strings to her and Raydrik’s agreement had surely arrived. A distinct metallic sound was produced as the guard unlocked the door. Soon, the bars were pulled away.

“Yeh can’t figure it out? Duke Raydrik bade that you participate in the upcoming bout.” The guard then offered his hand that held the sword, revealing Raydrik’s hand along with it. The string had been pulled.

The rest of Eyvel’s face shifted to match her eyes, flashing a complete scowl as she clutched onto the weapon. The second the pass was made, the guard’s body trembled before sprinting away. Eyvel wouldn’t give chase; it was hardly worth it, for she would be playing by the rules of a wicked ringmaster either way. She stared at the arena floor and then her own reflection in the sword. Gradually, her expression changed to mirror the vivid image of Leif’s from years ago. With a deep breath, she stepped forth into the engulfing light of the colosseum.

The cheers of a worked up crowd soon cornered her senses. The sight of the arena, now with people filling the stands, made a much different impression as her eyes cascaded it. The walls, the merriment, and the sensation of holding a weapon at the center of everyone’s attention… something about it was uncanny — like she had done this before. That eerie sense of nostalgia wouldn’t last for long, however.

Up in the arena walls, there was an enclosed rectangular space in between the concentration of benches. It was a room much more refined, complete with a red carpet and decorative pillars along the walls. One of the walls had been carved open to allow one to view the colosseum floor below, complete with a stone railing to prevent a catastrophic fall. Lastly, near the forefront, there lay a couple highly decorated chairs, Both were occupied, one by Raydrik and the other by Nanna. The latter was leaning into her hand with a melancholic expression.

“Oh, Nanna, my dear, the combatants have emerged. Surely you don’t intend to miss this?” Raydrik was glowing with excitement as he leaned forward in his seat to peer below. Nanna ignored it all. Her eyes drooped off to the side away from the spectacle. She had no interest in watching Raydrik force others to bloody themselves for his own amusem*nt. The roaring crowds did little to please her either. The presence of so many people felt oppressive and overwhelming in a way not too far removed from the invasion of Fiana. The temptation to cover her ears presented itself just as Raydrik stood from his seat.

“That’s enough, my good men, quiet down now,” Raydrik’s voice boomed with clarity off the walls of the stadium, gradually bringing the chatter of the knights to silence. He soon raised an arm, saying, “It is with great pleasure that I announce our contest here today: a tournament featuring a new challenger seeking to claim the Munster championship title!” The crowd briefly fired themselves up again from the announcement. Raydrik fed into it, not waiting for them to cease this time.

“The challenger will be faced with a series of battles before fighting our current champion! For her first opponent — you all know him quite well — a seasoned warrior hailing from the great River Thracia; give a hand for Cortez!” The crowd only continued to thunder as Nanna’s irritation grew. She couldn’t wrap her head around it, such a glorification of violence. Her face slouched further, trying her damnedest to tune it all out.

“And for the challenger, don’t let her beauty fool you, for rumors cite she’s as fierce with a sword as she is virtuous. A defender of the weak, she goes by Eyvel, the mistress of Fiana!”

The attempt failed. Those words crushed Nanna like a hammer, forcing her eyes wide open as the sound of shattering glass reverberated through her. Distress and confusion alike took hold of her soul as her head swung forward with Raydrik’s words repeating in monotony. With the crowd’s ensuing cheer, the princess’ lips parted slowly. She was wondering, praying, that she hadn’t heard the duke correctly — that it was an apparition conjured by the inner cruelties of her mind. Her lips shifted to outright quivering as she found the will to stand, pacing dreadfully towards the stone railing. With Raydrik watching from behind, she delicately rested her hands onto the rail. She could feel it, the resistance in her eyes that prevented them from moving. Her breath skipped as if it were ordered a tempo change, and inevitably… they’d fall with the weight of steel. Her iris soon crashed into the arena floor without a single trace of gracefulness, settling onto a sight that made her nearly vomit.

“E-Eyvel…” There the swordswoman stood, battle ready. It had been around a month since she had last seen the woman, left to assume she surrendered at Leif’s capture in Kelves. She’d have never dreamed that this would be the way they see each other again, but it made a twisted amount of sense. The weight of the Earth Sword at her hips seemed to multiply as she came to a revelation. Her head creaked around like unpolished steel, gazing into Raydrik’s sneering face absolutely mortified.

“Figured out who’s responsible for my little gift, have you?” Raydrik taunted without ever missing an arrogant beat. Nanna felt her face twist wretchedly; the reality that nobody was safe settled in like a stake in rotten wood. “Don’t give me that look. You should feel relieved to see her alive, no?”

Her heart stung rotten. What relief was there to have with Eyvel facing a situation like this? Her eyes began to tingle, and as she crunched the sensation back, Nanna felt something swell within her. Her struggle, was it… purposeless all along?

“You…” she murmured, but to no end.

“Ah, ah! Save your words for me and enjoy the show.” Raydrik waved an arm forward to the arena. “I advise you to use that energy in cheering for her success.”

The princess bit her lip. He was right, for surely the worst he was right. Her head returned forward with the same resistance, and although she wanted nothing less, Nanna caved and looked down.

In a few moments, the first battle would begin. Down on the arena floor, Eyvel peered across the way at her opponent. He was a warrior alright, well built, dressed in leather padding for armor, and brandishing an axe in hand. He wore a mask on his face, a feature that’d make her job easier. Her eyes narrowed in, readying her weapon as thoughts began to brew. A championship match… how’d she get herself into this? The only thing she could do now is hope to end it quickly.

The warrior made the first move, charging in with thundering steps as Eyvel was in his sights. With a roar, he swung his axe only for her to sidestep backwards — dodging the attack — before hitting a roundhouse kick to their face. It caused them to stagger and leave their guard open for Eyvel to follow up with a slash from her sword. The warrior fell to their knees from the attack, provoking a surprised coo from the crowd. Eyvel stood above them, looking down with contempt.

“You can’t beat me. Cede the match while you have the chance.”

The warrior looked up towards the woman, his mask failing to hide the fury that built from such a remark. After just two attacks, she wanted to call the match? He let out another roar, gripping onto his axe and doing an upwards swing, which Eyvel leaned herself back to dodge, before hopping to his feet. The warrior next jumped up and prepared a downward swing, Eyvel seeing this as she leaned forward to roll behind him, proceeding to thrust an arm out and perform a somersault back to her feet.

The warrior then turned around to face her, but by the time he did, she began a sprint towards him as if her feet weren’t even touching the ground. As she reached him, Eyvel proceeded to deliver an onslaught of swift strikes to his torso before finishing the barrage with an upwards strike of her own, leaping into the air and landing in perfect sync with his body collapsing at her side. She let out a sigh, brushing a clump of her golden locks aside as the crowd began to scream with excitement.

“My, I’ve never seen Cortez fall so fast!” Raydrik exclaimed from above with a wide grin. As Nanna watched with hands clasped, even she couldn’t help but agree with his amazement. More importantly, she noticed how focused Eyvel appeared. The swordswoman’s face was stoic, almost to the point she appeared soulless. Nanna knew she had never seen Eyvel fight like this before, with such ferocious speeds, with such… determination.

“Excellent!” Raydrik cheered once more as the crowd died down. “You have three more opponents until facing the champion. Would you like a little rest before the next battle?”

As Raydrik hollered, Eyvel kept her gaze locked forward at the barred doors across from her, knowing that’s where her opponents would emerge. “No! I care not for dragging out your sick little game. I’ll take on the next three at once and get this over with!”

Another exclamation of shock erupted from the crowd. The declaration had a similar effect on Nanna who felt the wind escape her lungs. Even as skilled as she proved herself to be in the last battle, it didn’t change the danger of a three versus one fight.

“All three? Are you sure?” Raydrik repeated. Eyvel spoke nothing in return; it wasn’t like her to be so careless. The eerie silence prompted Nanna to unclasp her hands, holding one to her heart and the other at the railing.

“Eyvel, no!”

At once, as the scream reached her ears, Eyvel’s face lost its composure and her eyes expanded like a sponge. For a moment, her mind slowed.

Little Nan's capture has weighed heavy on you, it has to be even worse now…

“Little Nan?!” Time returned. She darted her head to the side, gazing up in the fancy observation room to see not just Raydrik… but also Nanna standing beside him. It had been weeks - from the medium length blonde hair to the emerald eyes, despite the different dress she wore, Eyvel knew it to be her.

From above, Nanna stared into Eyvel’s eyes, her own continuing to be those of a distressed cat. “Eyvel!” she cried again.

The woman stared right back in awe. Those screams… she had never heard so much bass in her poor voice. The longer she saw the girl’s distress ridden face, the swordswoman began to bare her fangs.

“Raydrik, what is the meaning of this?! Let her go at once!!”

“Let her go? Oh, Miss Eyvel, I never recall that being part of our agreement.” Raydrik merely laughed, seeing as the two women helplessly eyed each other. “There is no letting her go, you see. While you were away, ‘little Nan’ here has done some growing up.”

Nanna noticed Raydrik begin to move as he spoke, as well as the fire in Eyvel’s eyes that burned brighter with every syllable. They were written with the temptation of something irrational.

“The girl and yourself now share something in common,” Raydrik continued. “For she is the new mistress of Munster… If you know what I mean?” He then gave an insidious cackle that made the girl wince, the implications causing Eyvel’s entire face to shrivel up in disgust. Mistress? She was absolutely appalled, watching as Nanna broke eye contact to look to the side in shame at his words. Just how low could someone stoop? Certainly at least six feet beneath the earth, for the urge to chase him to the depths of hell arose with this revelation.

“Calling you a freak would be an injustice to the word, only hell’s greatest infernos could stomach someone so grotesque!” the swordswoman spat through her teeth, soon pointing a finger to the blonde. “Nanna, I’m gonna get you out of there, alright?!”

Those words struck a familiar chord within Nanna, dragging her eyes right back to the swordswoman. In Fiana, Kelves, and even here… truly, mother and daughter were kindred. “N-No, please, just worry about yourself!” she cried, playing her part in the cycle.

“Indeed! Worry about yourself!” Raydrik agreed whimsically. “In case you forgot, you have an arrangement with three of my finest arena fighters!” He waved his arm, and with it, the doors across from Eyvel opened once more. The swordswoman’s attention was taxed, turning away from Nanna as three fighters emerged from the darkness. One was a heavily armored general, and the other two appeared to be esteemed sword fighters. The three foes quickly began an approach as the crowd roared with the next battle officially beginning. This amusem*nt was absent from one .

From above, Nanna studied Eyvel’s movements, the latter taking a defensive stance as the two swordsmen drew near. They lunged at her from both sides, Eyvel using her sword to parry the attack from the left, simultaneously kicking the fighter to her right in the abdomen. She then turned to block another attack from the parried sword fighter, following up with a heavier slash that pushed them backwards. By now, the fighter she kicked recovered, running towards her from behind in sync with the other doing the same from her front.

Nanna bit her lip at the imminent pincer attack. She didn’t want to watch, but to her pleasant surprise, Eyvel ducked to the floor at the last second, causing the two swordsmen to miss and skid parallel from each other. She then moved to a handstand and performed a spin kick to the backs of both fighters as they attempted to turn back around, somersaulting to her feet with her blade held so that it slashed the unguarded torso of the fighter at her front. As for the one at her back, she simply turned to parry another attack, moving in and smacking them across the face with a backhanded chop. The force of the contact from her hand could be heard as the sword fighter staggered backwards. Blood dripped from his nose and both men struggled to keep balance; the crowd boomed from everything they had just seen.

“Incredible… she’s even better than the rumors made her out to be!” Raydrik glowed with excitement, his crooked grin widening with fingers tightening onto the railing. For the princess, however, she kept her gaze glued to the arena floor as the general had finally approached in sync with the swordsmen regaining their stance. The three versus one officially began.

Eyvel braced herself as the general spun his lance mid charge, beginning a rush of her own when caught off guard by a sudden swing to the side from one of the swordsmen, and then one from the other. She hopped and weaved out of the way, next met with the thrust of the general’s lance when rebalancing, swaying her body to the side at the last minute so the weapon barely missed her side.

Nanna’s chest tightened, watching as Eyvel’s hair appeared to fall into place in slow motion. Her concentration endured, and what ensued was a flurry of weapon clashes and acrobatic maneuvers that gave no signs of a clear winner on either side. It was a sight nothing short of amazing, like watching an exaggerated waltz. Before she realized it, the princess’ eyes had dilated. Yes indeed, Eyvel was stronger than even she thought to be true… even stronger than Finn.

Before long, a temporary intermission fell onto the dance. The crowd thundered on their backs as the four warriors stared each other down. Eyvel took it all in for a single moment — the cheers, the ebb and flow of her motions — that feeling of nostalgia making a return. Her gaze panned before returning to the three opponents, soon noticing blood trickle down from her forehead. She didn’t even realize she’d been hit, nor the faintest sight of an orange glow surrounding her. Nonetheless, the fighters readied their weapons once more. The next clash would soon begin.

In the halls of the underground prison…

In the midst of what was occurring upstairs, the Magi members reunited alongside Leif and the others. With Asbel’s reassurance, and after a hefty apology for leaving so suddenly, the prince informed them of his identity and why he was captured. Karin did the same. The fact that Lifis was still missing loomed over the thoughts of some, Leif wanted to believe he was crafty enough to hold his own wherever he was… for better or worse. Nonetheless, the children had been found and rescued. The next move was obvious: aid their escape and rendezvous with Ced.

The united group traversed the only path they had not yet been with the villagers and children alongside them. Karin and Hawk were talking amongst themselves at a volume inaudible to Leif, though he could overhear Machyua yapping Brighton’s ear off, giving a remark or two about how she felt dumb for not realizing said junior knight was a pegasus knight. Leif mostly tuned it out, however, walking in silence with only Asbel at his side, or so that was until Fergus came over.

“So, this guy’s yer friend, eh?” He was referring to Asbel. Leif gave a simple nod and answered with it. “I see…” It almost sounded like there was disappointment in the mercenary’s voice. Surely a jest.

“As a matter of fact, Leif and I have known each other for years!” Asbel followed up, giving the prince a slap on the back. “I’m almost offended ya never told him about me!”

Leif looked over at the mage curiously. “I did just meet him…” Despite the weariness in his voice, a smile lurked upon him. These jokes were at least a nice change of pace from moments ago… They were jokes, right?

Fergus’ arm then found its way around Leif’s shoulder. “Ay, a couple weeks be plenty o’ time to make friends!”

“R-Right…” He laughed with a certain comical nervousness, not bothering with removing the mercenary’s arm. He soon noticed Asbel cross his arms from the corner of his eye, however.

“Well I hope you know that I won’t be abandoning him once he goes after Raydrik next,” the mage contested.

Fergus merely looked at him with a grin mid walk. “Oh really? Same here!”

Asbel appeared shocked by the gesture, and at this point, Leif couldn’t help but feel he was in the middle of something. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what that something was, though. Fortunately, a lifeline in the form of Dalsin soon approached the three as well. The armored knight’s expression was serious.

“Hold a moment- did I hear you right in saying you wanted to fight Raydrik?” he murmured, catching the attention of the other two males.

“Yeah, I do,” Leif answered after some silence. The knight grimaced yet said nothing, prompting the prince to continue as a thought crossed his mind. “Come to think of it, do you know how I can find him?”

Dalsin now sighed, turning around for a moment as if to double check his brother was a decent bit away. “Look, the thing you all got goin’ on here, it’s an inspiration, but…” He paused. “Taking on Raydrik with this few numbers, it’d be suicide.”

Leif’s eyes went to the floor hearing this. “What else am I supposed to do? Raydrik’s holding two people that I care about hostage. I…” Through his own pause, his fist tightened for just a wince of a second. “I refuse to leave without them.”

As Leif’s gaze remained floor bound, Asbel’s face softened with shame but also empathy at such a response. He could only hope his words earlier didn’t hurt the prince so much. Either way, it seemed to make an impression on Dalsin as he looked back to his brother again, this time his expression softening.

“Can’t argue with that, can yeh?” Fergus remarked as the knight’s gaze returned. Another sigh.

“...It’s my understanding that Raydrik’s throwing a celebration of sorts with the knights at the arena upstairs,” he recited what the other guards had told him. “Something about a freeblade woman as a new challenger…”

“What..?” Leif’s eyes enlarged and rose from the floor almost immediately. Freeblade woman? It couldn’t be Eyvel, he thought. Yet if it was… His blood began to boil. Of course someone like Raydrik would rather capture her for his own amusem*nt than just snuff her out. It’s what the duke did with his life after all; a stepping stone for a promotion.

“If you’re really set on this, I’d reckon you’ll find him there,” Dalsin finished in spite of the emotions stirring up on Leif’s face. “The stairs straight ahead are the fastest way to the arena. The other set leads to one of the palace’s exits.”

“Freeblades. If I recall, that’s the group Raydrik wanted us to go after,” Fergus added, removing his arm from Leif’s shoulder and scratching his head. “He really likes capturin’ yer lady friends, eh? What a perv.” His blunt, if not crass, words earned a disapproving glare from Asbel, but for Leif, they struck further inspiration.

“Dalsin, did you,” he began with pursed lips. “Did you by chance hear anything about female prisoners with blonde and black hair?”

“Prisoners with..? …No, sorry.” Leif’s eyes drooped and gave a disappointed response, but this new information and the hesitance in Dalsin’s answer brought a sudden charge in Fergus of all people. Blonde hair, this was the first he’d heard of such a physical description. For some reason, the mention of it made him feel as though he had forgotten something important.

“Fergus? What has you all bothered?” Leif’s voice broke Fergus’ train of thought. Evidently his contemplation had carved lines on his face.

“Nothin’, forget about it,” he dejected. It wasn’t exactly an answer that made Leif happy. Still, even if Nanna and Mareeta were unaccounted for, this arena was the best lead he had to go on. Once the children were safe, it’d be a top priority. Before he could put too much more thought into it, however, Brighton and Machyua suddenly stopped at their front.

“Quiet down. Something’s coming.”

Leif perked his head up, ears latching onto the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. Their current location was now just in front of a hallway to their right and two flights of stairs, one to the left and one straight ahead. The sound appeared to be coming from the latter, and before long, a drove of soldiers poured down the steps with weapons brandished. Leif scowled at the sight of becoming completely surrounded, and down the middle, an old general with white hair walked in front of the rest of the troops.

“So I was right to suspect something was amiss when none of the food had been returned,” the general remarked.

“Damn it, not now!” Brighton cursed. He recognized the general, as did the rest of the magi… and Dalsin as well.

“General Truman…” the armored knight grimaced.

“Dalsin, is that you? First Brighton and now… Don’t tell me you’ve turned traitor too!” the older general exclaimed. Dalsin remained silent, however. It wasn’t worth the effort of explaining. “Hmph. Don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I don’t enjoy this, so why don't you lot save me the effort and surrender yourselves?”

The fact was, they were outnumbered. Murmurs arose amongst the allied forces, but starting with Leif, they inevitably drew their weapons — effectively giving their answer. A stare down ensued between the groups, Truman looking at Asbel in particular, recognizing the boy as the one who felled him in the plaza. It was then that Hawk walked by, however, making his way to the front of the line to the surprise of everyone.

“If fighting is inevitable, I will be the one to put you down,” the brown haired sage claimed with eyes that matched his voice. “It is with great shame that I was not there to aid my friends the last time.” He then extended an arm forwards, drawing a tome from his belt.

The general grumbled. “You think yourself some hotshot amongst the rest, huh? I’ve heard enough. Men, seize the-”

Just as the soldiers were about to move, an overwhelming concentration of wind exploded from the right hallway. Leif watched in awe, the gusts blowing his hair out of control as the mass of soldiers were consumed by the attack. He had never seen anything like it, said troops left unconscious on the ground when the elements faded. Soon, a peculiar green haired teen walked out from the corridor to the right. Was he the one who caused such an attack? He was conflicted on if he should be afraid of the teen when Hawk’s stance relaxed.

“Milord beat me to the punch, it seems,” he remarked as the same teen gave a wave in their direction. His lord? The green haired sage then approached.

“It appears I arrived just in time.”

“Your highness, sir!” Hawk sounded with a bow. Brighton and Machyua then followed suit, moving up to stand with the sages.

“Lord Ced, with the help of Prince Leif and his allies, we were able to secure the safety of the prisoners.”

Leif’s eyes were like a star gazing child’s. This was Prince Ced?

“So you’ve found him? The prince I mean.” Ced then eyed Asbel out from the group, soon making eye contact with Leif. He smiled and walked over to the pair. “Are you Prince Leif?”

Leif went frigid, having never spoken with another prince before. A sudden jab from Asbel’s elbow snapped him out of it. “Y-Yes, I am.” The nervousness was clear in his tone, yet Ced didn’t seem to mind.

“Well met, then. I thank you for your help thus far.”

Thanks for his help? Leif couldn’t help but find this ironic. If Prince Ced, a direct descendant of the crusader of his name, was commanding power like whatever that spell was, what did he ever need the help of someone like himself for?

“It’s the least I could do.”

Ced shook his head quite adamantly. “Not at all, I’m sure.” Talk about humility. His smile then faded for a more serious look. “I wish we had more time for proper introductions, but as you can no doubt relate, time is something of the essence right now.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Leif’s first confident response.

“Now then, we must find the quickest escape route at once, and hopefully not one that leads to more trouble.” Ced then turned around, stepping away to analyze the surroundings of the room. “Two sets of stairs, huh?”

Leif was still in a trance watching this other prince do his thing. They had to be about the same age, yet the differences were night and day. With eyes lit, Leif followed Ced from behind.

“Prince Ced, Dalsin informs me that Raydrik and the knights of Munster are preoccupied upstairs at the arena. Through the stairs those soldiers came.”

“Really?” Ced then turned back around causing his cape to blow. “In that case, Hawk, I'd like you to rejoin my side as we head to the colosseum.”

“Yes sir!” The brown haired sage moved accordingly.

“I hate to burden the rest of you further, but with so many troops gathered in one place, do you think you’d be able to take the route to the exit at the left? The bulk of our forces will be waiting outside and take everything from there.”

The magi members seemed in agreement with such a plan, but for Leif, this left him feeling a bit deflated. “Pardon me, Prince Ced, but… I’d like to be the one to go to the arena.”

“Oh?”

“I have reason to believe that someone close to me is being forced to fight. If nothing else, I’d like to see her saved after everything she’s done for me.” Leif’s eyes showed a determination now that Ced could swear he’d seen somewhere before. It was intense with a yearning to protect no matter what it cost. Was it right for him to deny that?

“Besides, if it is who I think it is, with her help, we’ll stand a really good chance.”

“With all due respect, Lord Ced, I feel you’d be much more suited for such a task,” Brighton objected, making Leif anxious as Ced closed his eyes.

“All fine and good, but ...I can understand his feelings quite well,” the sage ceded. “As a prince of this land, Prince Leif’s reason for opposing Raydrik has always run deeper than I. It shouldn’t be a problem. Perhaps the more reckless thing to do would be placing these children under the protection of someone who could not make a fleeting escape should things go wrong.”

Leif’s eyes glew at the quick yet favorable decision. Brighton’s face evidently still showed protest, but Ced wasted no time in quelling that as well.

“Worry not, I’ll make my return to the castle as soon as I am able.” He then turned back to Leif. “As for you Prince Leif, do we have an agreement?”

He nodded. “Yes we do, I can’t thank you enough.”

“None needed. Now Hawk, let us be off.”

“Right.” Hawk then moved to round up the villagers, though not without taking a moment to give Karin a certain look. Evidently, Ced had been so focused he hadn't even noticed the pegasus knight was here.

“I will be with you again shortly.” Ced then bowed as Hawk returned to his side, beginning to walk towards the left staircase.

Once again, Leif was left to marvel at the kind of person Ced was. His business was dealt with as quick as the wind, his strength phenomenal, he was dashing on the eyes too, and compassion not even faltering for it. These were the makings of a true leader, or so that’s what he thought.

“Hey Prince.” Karin’s voice interrupted Leif’s thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed her approach. “I’m gonna go after Prince Ced, okay?”

His eyes flickered for a moment before composing himself. “Oh, right.” He found this odd. Did she feel she needed his permission? Her conflicted expression certainly said as much. That soon faded with a smile, however.

“I’ll see you soon.” And thus she left, going after the two sages and villagers. Even if for a short while, the absence of her presence now struck him as bizarre. They’d hardly ever left each other’s sight at all for the last two weeks. With how she felt the need to approach him, perhaps she had realized that before he did.

“Gee, and I thought she’d never leave,” Fergus remarked from behind. Leif mostly tuned it out. His eyes were now on the stairs before him. Seemingly on a whim, Ced gave him this chance. Now it was time to uphold the deal. More than that, the moment he’d been waiting weeks for was approaching. He took only a single step forward when Brighton stopped him with a hand on the shoulder, however Leif immediately looked up in confusion.

“Remember you have Lord Ced to thank for this. If you’re thinking about retaking Munster, you best have the mettle to do it.” He then removed his hand, moving ahead and leaving the prince even more confused. Machyua and the others soon followed.

“Talk about givin’ someone a hard time.” Fergus shook his head as he walked by next. Hard time indeed. Leif sighed, looking to the side to see Asbel wretched with grief. His eyes almost appeared hostile, and come to think of it, the mage hadn’t been saying much either.

“Asbel?” Leif addressed.

“Huh, what is it?” The mage looked to the side, that look he had fading fast. Staring him in the eyes now, Leif questioned if it was worth bringing the matter up when it seemingly had passed. Perhaps he was simply heated over facing Raydrik, who could blame him for that?

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

The dark meeting hall…

The meeting had dragged on, and with it did Ishtar’s patience. Not only did she have no care for the company of either bishop, she began to wonder why she was even here to begin with. She had not been addressed once since the discussion’s beginnings- now thinking about it, she rarely heard Julius speak either. Her eyes drifted from the flame to another at her side. Curious enough, the prince’s eyes were closed as if meditating. Hopefully a sign his own patience was waning.

“Isaach, Miletos, Agustria, and Munster. All firmly within our grasps. I have the four of you to thank for that.” Manfroy’s voice from across the altar occasionally cut its way into her thoughts. Her contemptful gaze returned to the dwindling blaze. Was she truly just here to listen to these two yap?

“It is truly an honor, your grace.”

Perhaps it’d be better for her to follow Julius’ example. She didn’t have to listen to this, honing her mind would be much more productive for her time. Such were her thoughts as her optics slowly collapsed.

“As you may be pleased to know, despite resistance, the child hunts in Munster have been successful.”

No sooner than she attempted to close them, Ishtar’s hazel eye glistened, followed by both gaping right back open. This caught her attention.

Every home we visited, the chairs failed to meet the people.

Ishtore’s words from a couple days prior reared their head in her memory.

If I find any sort of foul dealings with that cult of a church happening under your watch, there will be consequences.

Here it was, confirmation that child hunts truly had been occurring in this city! She never held any doubt herself, but her brother was right all along. And these men — Manfroy and Veld — were so casual about it too. Her teeth grit amidst her complacency; anger crept its way into the mix.

“Very good,” Manfroy replied to his servant, soon taking the time to gaze upon Ishtar’s building fury. “Do you have something you’d like to add, Princess Ishtar? You’ve been awfully silent.”

She cringed at the sneer of his voice. It was as if he knew asking such a thing would only piss her off further. “Many things that I doubt you have the ears for,” she spat.

At this, Manfroy laughed. “Really now? I assure you, I am, if nothing else, a listener to the plight of others, so do go on.”

Her lips pursed harshly. This sent her to the edge, face drowned in resentment as both eyes dilated. The act caused the flame to temporarily expand as what she’d been holding back until now was on the cusps of release.

“If I may, your grace, I know the perfect matter to discuss first.” Veld cut in. “As our princess here might know, Tahra is the only city that struggles to maintain its independence yet. She would also know that it is the cause of Friege’s soldiers showing reluctance to finish the job.”

“Oh?” Manfroy tilted his head condescendingly. The lid had melted.

“That’s because none of us wish to play the hand that feeds your savagery!” Ishtar lashed out, slamming her palms into the railing that surrounded the pyre. “Our own generals, nobles of our council, even my own brother and myself — we dissent the practice of these child hunts. I won’t stand for it, abducting children too young to even realize what awaits them!”

“What awaits them?” Manfroy repeated innocently.

“I’ve heard the rumors — how these children are taken and offered up to the dark god. Now tell me where the justification lies in that?”

A silence came before Manfroy once again cackled. “My, how articulate.”

Ishtar could feel it, being the subject of their mockery. Venom formed at her lips, yet something would put a stop to it. Out of nowhere, she felt Julius’ hand clasp onto her own reassuringly. They were trembling with anger, a trait she only realized when contrasted with the suave nature of his caress. She turned to look him in the eyes, met with a gentle smile.

“Milord Julius, might you have something to say about the doubts of your fiance?” Manfroy asked, taking note of the exchange. Curiously, Julius remained stoic through all of this.

“In time, Manfroy, but I feel something else yearning for our immediate attention… If that’s okay with you, my beloved?” His caress on Ishtar’s hand never ceased even as he spoke, prompting an eventual blush from her cheeks and then an approving nod. Her anger was fading.

“Do tell,” Manfroy insisted. Now, Julius’ caress ceased. Ishtar felt mildly disappointed- if only for her own selfishness.

“There are a few mice on the loose, though I’d consider one of them to be more of a rat.”

“A rat, you say?”

“They possess the power of a crusader, I can tell that from an attack I sensed.”

Ishtar’s eyes flickered with interest. So that’s what Julius was meditating on. Even now, he never ceased to impress her. The next to speak would be Veld.

“Troubling indeed. However, speak it, and they’ll be but a stone.”

To even Manfroy’s surprise, Julius shook his head. “No, I’d like for… Ishtar to snuff them out.”

“M-Me?” she questioned. Her voice had squeaked for a moment. It was a sound Julius found cute.

“I can’t say I expected this.” Veld lowered his head.

She didn’t either.

“Expected or not, it’s reality,” Julius affirmed to her liking. She couldn’t resist devouring the confidence he put in her. “This is something I know I can trust you with.”

“Lord Julius, I’m honored…” Her voice trailed to be picked up again at the spark of a new thought. “Though you must know my father possesses Mjölnir.”

“No matter, I know you hardly have need of it.” Julius’ demeanor was unchanged. “Will you take care of it for me, Ishtar? I’ll bring you to them in an instant.”

With how much faith he placed in her, who was she to let him down? If anything, this was an opportunity. “If you believe this to be a task for me, I will see it through, my lord.”

“Excellent. Be safe now.” The prince then stood back, extending a hand as a circle of magic soon surrounded her. As the spell began to take effect, the two made eye contact. “Oh, and I apologize that I allowed these two to anger you so.”

“Lord Julius…” These words carved their way to her core, and along with his eyes, they’d make the sensation she savored as her body was soon whisked away. Once she was gone, a brief silence came which Veld wasted no time in interrupting.

“Forgive me for implying as such, I believe you put too much faith in that girl.”

“I will be the one who decides that. She’ll understand soon,” Julius affirmed with slight annoyance.

“Why wait? His excellency’s magic could-”

“Are you suggesting to mind control my Ishtar?” His words crescendoed into a demonic rage, the pyre expanding larger than it had even from Ishtar’s magic. Veld instinctively dropped to his knees from the sudden shift. Julius’ fury continued, however. “You ingrate, know your damned place!”

“Y-Yes, a thousand apologies, your highness!” Veld cried, bowing repeatedly like a cowering mut. Manfroy grinned at the sight. “I-I won’t speak of such foolishness again!”

At this, the flame died down and the demonic air faded from the prince. “You’d better.” As the energy in the room leveled out, Julius eyed Manfroy. “Now are we done here?”

“Heh, perhaps so.” With the Archbishop’s answer, Julius scowled before leaving with the same magic he had used on Ishtar moments earlier. This then left the two bishops alone, one of which still possessing a racing heart from before. Perhaps it was ironic — conditioned to not feel fear except when coming face to face with their savior.

“Veld, I expect the children to be transported at your next departure from Munster.” Manfroy stood by his inferior as he returned to his feet.

“Of course, your grace. It will be very soon, I assure you.” The archbishop acknowledged his response, giving a departing bow which Veld answered with his own. Once Manfroy’s back was turned, however, Veld spoke again. “One more thing, if I may?”

The archbishop raised a brow, turning his body only half the way. “Out with it.”

“I won’t speak for certain until it occurs, but I believe to have a lead on that certain legend you’ve been pursuing, your grace.” For just the inkling of a second, Manfroy’s face showed a myriad of emotions. Surprise, excitement… perhaps even fear. None of which were dominant over the other. Still, it was inevitably masked.

“Just don’t disappoint me.” He returned his head forwards and soon enough, magic brought his own departure. Veld was now alone.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Arena

After a hard fought battle, Eyvel stood victorious over the three fighters. Her breathing was intense and sweat claimed her face, but she showed no signs of collapsing any time soon. The crowd was entertained as ever, as was the duke who commanded them from above.

“Well then, Miss Nanna, what have you to say after that? Entertained now?”

By now, Nanna was slouched over the rail to where her knees were nearly touching the ground. “...No, I’m not.” Her voice was a rocking ship, almost inaudible due to competing with the crowd of knights.

“Oh? But why? Your companion is doing extraordinarily well for herself.”

Her hands gripped tighter onto the railing “...Against her will…” She soon could hear Raydrik approach from behind, helpless to prevent him from spinning her face around by the chin. As expected, he was met with that same dread she refused to rid herself of since the games had begun.

“Aw, you really need to do something about that face.” He then let go and Nanna let her head swing downwards with no effort to halt it. “Cheer up. I’m sure this final match will give you something to be excited about — after all, someone you know is fighting for the championship.”

Cheer up? How exactly was this different from any of the previous fights, save for a greater challenge? Something about that really irritated Nanna on a level comparable to the fear she felt for Eyvel’s safety.

Nonetheless, Raydrik took his stance at the railing and cleared his throat. “Now then, let us commence the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The crowd erupted as he gave a gesture with his arm, this time over to one of the stands. At once, the booming sounds of brass instruments flooded the colosseum, playing a melody that exuded a triumphant flair, soon after joined by woodwinds.

Nanna couldn’t believe her ears, instinct taking control to raise her head and gaze at the source of the music. Her lips trembled in frustration. He prepared his musicians for this?! Just how much more could one glorify bloodshed, that of someone as caring as Eyvel, no less?

“It’s time for our final battle. This one’s for the championship, where our challenger will be facing a man who by this point needs no introduction!” The gate then opened on the arena floor as mages from the audience casted fire magic that combined into an explosion. As the flames reigned down, the tall figure of a man appeared from the shadows. He had ashen black colored hair, was muscle bound from head to toe, and carried both a sword and axe on his person. On top of it all, he walked slowly and with great confidence all while maintaining a sedated look on his face.

“Galzus!” The crowd roared, chanting that name over and over as Eyvel’s facial features parted in awe of the sight of this man. He kept his gaze focused on her until reaching the center of the colosseum where he’d turn to the side for a short while. His left arm then slowly rose, pumping his fist in the air causing the crowd to pop like crazy with excitement.

That aura!

Eyvel’s thoughts ran wild as her gaze remained glued on the warrior amidst his fist pump. He was as tall as a giant and well built, sure, but the most unnerving thing was the feeling he exuded. She recognized it. The sight of those glowing green eyes from earlier, the terror that accompanied them… she got the same feeling from this man right here.

The swordsman lowered his arm and the crowd’s cheers began to subside. Not even a second later, his glare returned to Eyvel, though he remained standing. A few moments passed of him staring and Eyvel eventually took control of her emotions, face tightening and returning the glare the man gave her. Before long, she’d begin her own stride to the center of the colosseum with the fear filtered out.

From above, Nanna was indeed engaged now. The sight of this man Eyvel had to face terrified her — he looked like he could punch through brick without even flinching. She dreaded to think what he could do to a human body. Sweat from her palms had now made the railing slippery to her touch as she swallowed hard. All she could do was hope for Eyvel’s triumph, and she hated it.

The blonde swordswoman’s stride soon halted a few feet in front of Galzus. She slowly tilted her head up to stare at the man, him following suit by glancing downwards. The two remained like this, simply shooting cold glares into the other. The crowd of knights absolutely ate it up. For Eyvel, as she looked deep into the eyes of the monster of a man, she felt her hypothesis had been confirmed. He was without a doubt the same presence she had felt, but more than that, those eyes were still so eerily familiar to her. It was obvious he was leagues above the previous fighters, so just who was he exactly?

“So you’re called Eyvel, is that right?” Her eyes expanded with shock as the man was the first to speak. His voice was deep, fitting for his imposing figure. “I’m looking forward to this. Perhaps you’re the worthy dualist I’ve been searching for.”

As his voice subsided, Eyvel retained her glare. “You believe me to be part of your destiny?”

Another pause. “Potentially.”

“We’ll see about that.” Eyvel moved a hand to brush aside a lock of her hair. “To be honest, I’ve been confused for a long while why it is I still draw breath… why the gods gave me, a woman who can’t even remember her name, a second chance at life.” As she spoke, Galzus’ demeanor didn’t budge an inch even as her glare became more intense. “But I’m quite certain that whatever my purpose might be, it isn't as just another sword among countless others in your story.”

The silence, save for the crowd as their white noise, returned. It was Galzus’ turn to break it. “You don’t remember your past, eh? Some would consider that a blessing.” More time passed, but words wouldn’t come in return. Eyvel began to draw her sword with a dramatic amount of slowness and the crowd picked up once more. The point of no return had been reached.

At the first hint of Galzus reaching for his blade, Eyvel swung her sword to where he blocked it at an alarming speed. Surprised cheers shrouded the two warriors as a series of swift blade clashes ensued. Eyvel would eventually be the one to break the rhythm, jumping up and preparing a kick which Galzus intercepted by grabbing her knee. He then swung her by the leg and hurled her backwards where her body skipped like a pebble on water, each bounce using her blade to slow momentum. She’d soon find her footing, backflipping to her feet only to find Galzus charging right for her. She rolled beneath his towering legs, barely evading his blade, and leapt up to evade a second strike that Galzus made as he turned around. She landed gracefully atop the flat side of his large weapon mid swing, proceeding to jump up and land an upwards kick to the swordsman’s chin. She then attempted to capitalize with a mid air swing which he parried at the last second, redirecting her momentum so that she crashed back first into the ground. With her grounded, he followed up with a stomp which Eyvel rolled over to avoid. She somersaulted back to her feet, evading another attack in the process and readied a punch. Galzus did the same, both warriors taking fists to the face simultaneously. Their synchronized stagger would thus mark the first break in the action

Cheers howled louder than ever before, seeing the champion for once be presented with a fight that wasn’t over in mere seconds. As for the two warriors, another staredown ensued.

“So she can even hold her own against Galzus, can she? Hehe, this is exactly what I had hoped for!” Raydrik’s continued amusem*nt was unsettling at best as Nanna watched the fight beat for beat. It was clear that Eyvel wouldn’t have as easy of a time with this one.

Back on the floor, Galzus withdrew his axe amidst the staredown. Eyvel’s eyes traced the movement to him dual wielding it and his sword alike, causing more cheers. He’d soon show the true nature of the weapon, hurling his arm as a chain extended. Her eyes expanded and she ducked to evade the attack, only to be met with a charging knee to her body as she rose back up. He’d then give a downward swing with his blade, Eyvel frantically moved her sword overheard to block. A collision ensued with her down on one knee, allowing Galzus to continue applying pressure with his higher leverage.

Her muscles began to ache, but what she didn’t notice was how Galzus’ left hand still held onto the handle of his axe, at once yanking the weapon back from behind the swordswoman. At the sound of the chain, her eyes flashed fearfully, and at the very last second, she’d pull her blade away from the clash with Galzus’, rolling to her side away from the approaching axe head. His sword and axe grazed her limbs mid roll, delivering cuts to her right arm and thigh. She’d then be met with a roundhouse kick to her face that flew her back-first into the ground. Galzus followed up by lunging towards her with a downward stab. Eyvel’s life flashed before her eyes.

A loud thud of steel echoed through the colosseum. The crowd went silent. All Nanna could see from the railing was Galzus’ back turned with his sword wedged beneath him. Was it over? The princess’ limbs grew weak and her lips trembled as despair was coming to claim her.

“That’s all the fight she had, huh? Perhaps my early estimate was a fluke.” Raydrik’s voice was laced with genuine disappointment. Nanna cupped her face. She didn’t want to see what was surely waiting for her when the swordsman would inevitably move away.

What neither of them saw, however, was the exasperated look on Galzus’ face as he stared at where his blade had landed. The tip cracked into the stone floor, inches away from Eyvel’s torso and her body was shrouded in an orange glow. His confusion was mirrored by her own as she stared almost horrifyingly at the weapon. She was certain that she hadn’t moved out of the way.

“I… missed?” Galzus murmured, his arms downright trembling. Eyvel now glanced up to the shaken man as the orange glow faded. Her gaze swiftly narrowed, swallowing her confusion and capitalizing on the opening by kicking his abdomen with both legs from the ground. He groaned in agony — the attack took the wind out of his lungs. Eyvel flipped to her feet and delivered a clean slash to his chest, and then a spin kick. The combination sent the man crashing into the ground, forcing himself to quickly rebound with a flip of his own. Just like that, the crowd was alive again.

“Well isn’t that a surprise? Looks like she still has some fight left,” the bearded duke remarked.

With both Raydrik’s comment and the livelihood of the crowd, Nanna perked up. She begrudgingly pried away her hands and was taken by what she saw. The two warriors stood face to face, basking in the other’s injuries. Both held bruises and scrapes across their bodies — blood flowed from Eyvel’s forearm and thigh where she had been cut. Galzus now bled from his torso in kind. The princess felt a wave of relief, but as for Eyvel, through all the pain, she noticed the towering man crack a smile. It was certainly odd, yet in a strange way… Eyvel understood the gesture.

With a spin of the chain, he hurls the axe again. Eyvel dodges like before and he follows up with a charging sword swing which she also evades with a sideways flip. As she regains her footing, Galzus extends the axe once more, this time at a shorter distance, which she blocks with a horizontal hold of her blade. She fell for the bait. Like before, he approached with another charging swing, but at the closer distance, she was forced to narrowly backflip away. A few strands of her hair cut in the process and a pain spiked from her muscles — in the area of her wounds — as she performed the maneuver. As she landed, she’d then take a predictive elbow to the face, instinctively jumping backwards through the pain where he hurls the axe again. Eyvel slashes the weapon down while airborne, and as he charges her once landing again, she merely sidesteps and propels herself off his arms to go behind him.

The two take a brief pause as Galzus turns around. He playfully rotates the chain of his axe, an act that Eyvel focuses on closely. This weapon had been the cause of many a struggle, and she couldn’t see herself making much headway with it still in play. She then winced as the blood flow at her injured arm and leg grew worse. The muscles had no doubt been torn from the cuts, cursing under her breath at the realization. She needed to end this fast.

Her eyes stared hypnotically at the spinning chain, and once Galzus inevitably thrusted his hand, they turned predatory. She extended an arm and firmly gripped onto the chain, holding the head of the axe near her face. Galzus’ expression matched the sound of the astonished crowd, soon finding himself playing tug o war by the chain of his weapon. Both of their faces showed complete concentration while they attempted to seize control. As Galzus applied more strength, however, Eyvel felt her grip slipping. She swiftly swung her blade down at the chain, completely severing it before chucking the axe’s head by the small amount of chain left connected to it. It hurled right towards Galzus, forcing the swordsman to answer quickly, striking his blade down the middle of the head where it split in two.

No sooner than the pieces fell to the ground was he met with Eyvel’s fast approach, forced to take a cut to his face before blocking her subsequent strikes. Another flurry of swift clashes then erupted between them akin to what had started them off. Against all odds, the battle dragged on.

“Eyvel…” Nanna’s voice trailed as the action danced upon her iris. It terrified her just watching from a distance, she couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like to actually be doing it. More than that, her gut would churn each time Eyvel’s bleeding arm flashed into view. She couldn’t shake the feeling the injury was even more severe than it appeared. It wasn’t like she’d be able to help Eyvel all the way down there either way, but if she at least held a heal staff, then maybe…

The muses of her mind became disjointed when a sinister sensation clawed at her backside. Small gusts ruffled her hair and dress alike from behind as the atmosphere transmuted into a substance terrifyingly foreign. For a fraction of a second, Nanna could see her shadow cast onto the railing as a high pitched frequency pierced her ears. Her body’s immediate response was to turn around, eyes left to swell at the sight of something taking shape next to Raydrik. She’d never seen anything that could compare, the flashing light stimulating her heart until robes and eventually limbs were discernible. Was it perhaps a form of magic, or was she dreaming? The answer became no clearer as soulless white orbs — that when accompanied by a face were eyes — appeared.

“Ah, Grand Minister Veld, how nice of you to join us.” Raydrik gave a bow as the phenomenon came to a close. “The games are already underway, so please do take a seat and enjoy yourself.”

Just ‘bishop’ would have been fine. More formal than he usually was when given the upper hand, an aspect of the baron’s cunning personality that never ceased to make Veld’s optics spin. The bishop began his own stride, but to Nanna’s great dismay, rather than the arena, his eyes seemed to latch onto her. She could see it clearly as those white spheres scanned her up and down until eventually fixating on a singular point of her body. To say it made her uncomfortable would be a severe understatement.

“You are a member of House Nordion.”

The bishop’s voice made a hallowed ring in Nanna’s ears. The content of his speech alone could justify the way her hands trembled, but there was more than that. It was his stare, which now that she made eye contact, left her wondering if what she was gazing upon was truly even human.

“The mark tells no lies,” Veld elaborated.

A soft gasp escaped her lips. Instinctively, her eyes lowered to the tattoo at her chest — a mark she was coming to realize she’d never thought twice of until Munster. It had always been hidden from the eyes of all but few, yet in this dress, that quickly changed… starting with Princess Ishtar.

“Indeed. Lady Lachesis is her mother,” Raydrik chipped in, that added detail seeming to bring a subtle change to Veld’s expression.

“Lady Lachesis…” As his voice trailed, the shift became more apparent. His eyebrows rose with excitement and a smile took shape. Although they held no pupils, the look his eyes gave… to Nanna, it felt laced with possessive desire. It was a desire not quite like the carnality of Raydrik’s, yet impure in its own way. Still, she anticipated questions like how Raydrik found her or if she knew any secrets, but they never came. It was jarring, even more so as his attention suddenly left her to pace over to his seat. Perhaps he didn’t care to know such details.

“This is not the match I was promised,” the bishop objected in record time upon sitting down. He wasn’t impressed.

Raydrik was quick to answer the complaint as he paced over to the railing — near Nanna. He then gestured an arm in the direction of Eyvel and Galzus who were still in the midst of combat. “Ah, but you see I was saving the best part just for you, your grace.”

By now, Nanna begrudgingly turned back around to view the ongoing battle. As such, she’d notice as Raydrik gave a peculiar motion with his hand toward the stands. Her eyes then caught the movement of a couple knights leaving the stands.

On the arena floor, Eyvel and Galzus’ rapid clashes continued to crack through the air. The battle had moved them across practically the entire space by now, it being near the bottom right corner where their blades made another dramatic collision. They grit their teeth at one another as sparks flew from the continuous contact. Eyvel knew Galzus’ strength and height gave him an advantage, but it didn’t stop her from trying her damnedest to push back. Unfortunately, the striking pain in her sliced muscles began to flare up even harsher than the last time. They couldn’t sustain the constant tension. She was beginning to slip, letting out an agonizing groan as Galzus’ blade pushed her own backwards with ease. He soon removed a hand from his blade and grabbed Eyvel by the neck, lifting her up and thus ending the collision, though some may say it was taking her arm out of its misery. Nonetheless, the cheers of the crowd took on a lower octave from the move. He inspected her arm through the tear in her clothing as he did this, the signs of internal bleeding — in addition to the blood she dripped on the outside — clear as day.

“...I’m impressed your arm’s held out this long, but to keep going would just be torture,” the swordsman remarked, looking deep into her pained eyes. He’d then prepare his sword as his grip on her neck tightened, raising it to be level with her torso. Eyvel lacked the strength to fight back and watched helplessly as his blade appeared to glow a shade of blue at its tip. “If you are to remember but one thing as I return you to your previous life, let it be that you are strong.” The crowd now took on a lower octave from the display.

“Eyvel!” Nanna’s cry broke through the crowd, but it wouldn’t matter. Both her arms clasped at her chest as reality loomed its way onto her face in the form of damned tears. They were acidic and melted the rest of her face with their fall, all while thinking that her suspicions of the swordswoman's arm were true. Of course they had to be. Veld and Raydrik watched from behind with mild amusem*nt as even from a distance, Nanna could swear to see the life slowly drain from Eyvel’s face. Mareeta, I’m sorry.

Just then, the sound of steel thundered through the colosseum as the gates on the floor were opened once more. The sudden move caught the attention of all, including Galzus as a confused murmur arose amongst most of the knights in the crowd. Of course, there were a few that knew what was going on.

Raydrik turned to flash Veld a grin before raising his voice. “Might I have your attention please?” The colosseum grew eerily silent in seconds. “It is with pleasure that I introduce a third challenger to the arena!” With a wave of his hand directed to the gate, all eyes descended to meet it.

Third challenger? Tension and anticipation through the area reached an all time high. It’d be answered as a figure took shape in the doorway with a sword that glowed of violet. The silhouette just stood there for a good while until finally, not walking, but lunging with a predatory sense of urgency into the open. The eyes of Nanna and Eyvel alike enlarged at what they saw. Brown boots touched the stone floor, and when panning up, one could see tattered white pants and green robes. Red earrings danced from the light of the blade, and finally, a scarf and messy black hair flowed in the subtle breeze.

Mareeta?! The minds of both blonde women were cascaded by mystification. It’d been weeks, but now she stood there in the flesh, looking much worse for wares. Perhaps most bizarre was the hue of red that glossed over her eyes.

“This match has now become a triple threat!” Raydrik announced raucously, allowing the crowd to cheer to the same heights. With tears still resting at the base of her eyes, however, Nanna only descended deeper.

“N-No, this has to be a mistake- why her?” She was losing the feeling in her hands.

“Why her?” Raydrik repeated from behind. “I did say someone you knew would be fighting for the championship. I never specified if it was just one.”

Nanna’s heart halted her breath. Cheer up. I’m sure this final match will give you something to be excited about — after all, someone you know is fighting for the championship. A distressed squeak then escaped her lips. The sound was quite alluring to Raydrik as he’d lean over the railing to catch a glimpse of the girl’s mortified face from the side.

“Come now, this should be a happy moment. You get to see not one, but two of your friends again.” His grin widened. “And even cheer them on through their honorable endeavors.”

“Your deceit knows no bounds, Duke,” Veld’s voice sounded from behind before his attention would be taken elsewhere, watching the events unfolding on the arena floor with intrigue.

Eyvel’s mind brewed. In some twisted sense, Raydrik did keep his word after all with both Nanna and Mareeta in her sights. She braced herself for the possibility he’d force them to fight each other, but something was seriously off beyond that and the physical condition Mareeta appeared to be in. The red gleam in Mareeta’s eyes and the deadpan stare that she wore, it was like looking upon a demon. Those eyes would eventually find her direction, though peered at Galzus more than anything else as he held the blonde by the neck. Had they tampered with her brain? Did she even recognize her?

Though Eyvel wouldn’t get those answers, she and Galzus alike were soon greeted by the sight of the sword fighter’s deadpan look fading. Those blood red orbs locked onto Galzus as if he were prey, teeth becoming bare akin to fangs as an angry growl reverberated from her lips. It was now that Eyvel noticed Galzus’ hold on her neck began to tremble. Her growling then transited to a blood curdling scream as she’d charge towards the swordsman without warning, forcing him to drop Eyvel’s body coldly into the ground to counter.

With constant screams, Mareeta assaulted Galzus with a barrage of sword strikes, moving to block each one but not without being forced on the defensive as he paced backwards with each collision. The shadowy blade that she held made every attack much stronger than they’d normally be, matching even the ferocity of his own as upon the rhythm being broken, she’d easily hop above a low sweeped swing Galzus attempted at her legs before following up with twin mid-air kicks to his face and a slash of her own that when blocked, sent him tumbling backwards.

It was at this point that Eyvel finished her struggle to sit up, using her better arm to crack her neck. Her hand then instinctively moved to cup her bloodied arm. She could barely move it by now, nor even feel it. In spite of it all, as her flickering eyes rose, it was still the least of her concern. The fight between Mareeta and Galzus continued in her optics, the latter kicking himself up from the ground to immediately be faced with another charge. His expression wavered with unease but put up a fight nonetheless, swinging his blade to intercept her, except this time, Mareeta vanished before his eyes. She’d then reappear at his backside, slashing down his spine but he’d power through the pain and turn around as she prepared a second strike, which he blocked with his own as a lengthy collision ensued.

As sparks flew, it occurred to him how similar the girl’s fighting style was to Eyvel’s. Whatever connection the two might have didn’t matter save for the implications it told of her battle prowess. With how exhausted he already was, he couldn’t afford to enjoy his time with this one. His blade took on that blue glow that Eyvel saw only briefly before, soon overpowering Mareeta through the collision and blowing her backwards. With the color remaining, he then followed up with an attack so forceful it spun the girl around as she tried to block, proceeding to grab the back of her head and slam her into the wall. Following the recoil of the impact the pressure of his hand never relented, making sure the girl remained held down for his next attack. As he did, however, his eyes soon locked onto a certain sight like bullets. At the shoulder, visible through her tattered clothing, he had frozen at her tattoo. His grasp soon trembled and the rest of his body twitched to complete the symphony.

“The mark of the shooting star…!” he exclaimed under his breath. Amidst his loosening grasp, the girl was able to swing herself around and kick him in the abdomen as spit shot from his lips.

Mareeta then took to her feet, letting out another yell as her own blade then began to glow a different shade that mixed in with the purple shadows shrouding it. She readied a two handed swing — which Galzus sloppily attempted to block — unleashing it as the contact battered his blade and soon flung his entire body backwards. The crowd lost their mind at the absurdity before them - Galzus, the champion, being tossed to the ground like a doll. Mareeta’s pursuit wasn’t finished, however, making her way over to the swordsman’s body as he sat up with a grunt. She’d vanish once more, this time appearing in front of him and landing a kick to his neck that knocked him right back down; she’d jump on top of him, boots digging into his abdomen before raising her blade with two hands and letting out a scream. It thrusted down, stabbing clean into his upper arm as the swordsman groaned in agony. Demented grins — from two in particular — and mortified shrieks arose as the sword fighter then stirred the weapon in his flesh. It was torturous, Galzus’ groans only intensifying as the increase in pressure showed an intent to not just cut his arm, but destroy it.

“Mareeta!” Eyvel’s voice reached across the colosseum. For just a moment, the sword fighter’s red eyes flickered, turning around to the source of the call. Eyvel was now standing. “This is Eyvel, can you hear me?” the blonde called again. Mareeta’s deadpan stare returned, a stark contrast to the heartbreak that resided in Eyvel’s as she eyed the damage the girl was doing to Galzus’ arm — hell, practically everything about her behavior.

“This bloodlust, it isn’t like you…” the swordswoman’s voice was gentle yet broken as she began to walk over. “I don’t know what, but something must be afflicting your mind… Maybe Raydrik preyed on your fear… your loneliness, but it’s okay now.” Her stride continued, looking deep into the wrathful eyes of her daughter that gradually softened as she spoke. “I’m here, alright?”

That last phrase, it was spoken with such reassurance and such care. The growls Mareeta released subsided and her eyes lowered. Eyvel extended a hand as she paced ever closer. As the sword fighter peered further into Eyvel’s eyes — the kindness, the warmth — her body began to twitch as the growls roared right back.

“Mareeta, no!” the blonde called, her hand gesturing a stop. It was no use, however, as the girl continued to work herself up, baring fangs all over again. “It’s okay, stay calm!”

The sword fighter then roared, all at once removing her blade from Galzus’ arm and rushed towards Eyvel. The swordswoman was too stunned to fight back, eyes beginning to water at the beast before her. Was she angry with her? Did she feel abandoned? These thoughts plagued her as her body moved on its own with an orange glow to avoid Mareeta’s incoming attack. Her bewilderment endured through another attack before finally getting a grip, raising her sword to block Mareeta’s with one arm, only to be met with a subsequent drop kick that sent her backwards near Galzus. Mareeta now stood before both of them as the distress on Eyvel’s face developed further.

“I don’t understand…” Eyvel murmured.

“It’s her weapon…”

Galzus’ voice croaked from right behind, immediately causing the blonde to swing around. “What?”

“I’ve dealt with magic of its kind before…” the swordsman continued with bitter eyes, finding the strength to sit up despite the way his arm bled out. “If there’s any hope of restoring her heart, removing that blade from her grasp is a must.” His voice then broke with a cough.

Her eyes then darted to the shadowy blade in Mareeta’s clutches. It definitely didn’t look like a normal weapon. Eyvel understood what he was saying, yet something else confused her. “...Alright, but why help me?”

“...I do not wish to fight her.”

Her lips remained parted. Somewhere deep in his eyes, Eyvel could feel something more to his answer than that. As Mareeta approached once more, however, she’d have to accept it for now. She gave a nod and both fighters helped each other to their feet in Mareeta’s wake, each handling their swords with only one hand. The sight provoked another growl from the sword fighter. Once the growl had ceased, Galzus shouted a command and the pair soon rushed Mareeta together. Thus, the next stage of the battle began.

All the while, hearts both sinister and bleeding observed the spectacle from above. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Nanna was forced to watch mother and daughter pitted against each other in a contest of blood. That purposeless feeling when Eyvel first came out, it returned and suffocated her mercilessly. Those acidic tears continued to flow as the absurdity of it all was perhaps the worst part, recalling the black haired girl’s charge. Mareeta would never attack Eyvel like that, she just wouldn’t. Surely Raydrik had done something to her friend, but that thought came with a sting of its own.

Nanna! No! Y-you don't know what you're doing!

She remembered the protest Mareeta raised towards Raydrik’s plan, to agree to becoming a mistress for her safety. With her body beaten to the ground, the sword fighter looked just as miserable then as she did now… except now she was to fight her mother against her will. Her tears were now accompanied by soft wails. What in the gods’ name this was all for.

“Aww, why still with the sad face?” Raydrik’s voice came as a sudden torment. The duke was still leaning over the rail, still soaking it all in.

Nanna’s face hinged towards his. “W-What have you done to her..?” her voice droned. ”I-I thought we had an agreement..!” Nanna’s whimpers were music to his ears.

“Stuck on that? Technicalities, my dear. Am I not allowed to bend the rules when you so carelessly did the same?” Raydrik mused with only the most nonchalant shrug.

A pain spiked within the princess. Ensuring the safety of her friends, that was the only thing she could muster until now. Her body descended with her thoughts, seemingly on the verge of collapsing before Raydrik placed his hand at her chin. There it was, the look of a helpless kitten he loved.

“Besides, those folks from a backwater village have no place in your new life.”

Nanna’s eyes now lost their color as it felt as though glass shattered from within her.

I don't owe that crooked fool any favors, much less one that feeds into whatever foul plans he has for you.

Ishtar’s words roared their way right back to her again as she stared at the utter monster before her. Her breathing intensified and came with the iota of a boiling sensation.

Raydrik's forced me and a few other knights to stay in the castle for a few weeks now.

Have something you want to say, Miss Nanna? Hm? Do you know where your Mommy is?

Countless phrases and memories rumbled through her mind like falling boulders. Her body twitched, the realization she made a long time ago reared its head more violently than ever before.

“You… are beyond…” she grumbled as Raydrik tilted his head. This whole arrangement — the dress, the faked affection, and perhaps even her life — it was all for nothing. She may as well have just died!

“Oh? I’m beyond what?”

“...saving!” Nanna exploded, standing upright and backing away from his hold on her chin. Her mind raced to his ‘backwater village’ comment, thinking of the people of Fiana. Munster was the real pig sty. “The manner in which you carry yourself, I…” She raised a fist to her chest and her eyes burned. “I see but an irredeemable swine!”

Her voice roared, even catching the attention of Veld. “An irredeemable swine, am I?” Raydrik questioned, letting out a hardy laugh. “Bark all you want, but it doesn’t change that you will submit to me! So be a good girl and say goodbye to all your friends now, for once I’m done here, I’ll be sending that prince to the emperor too!”

Her eyes flashed menacingly at his continued laughter — hesitation became but a myth. The bottom side of her hand thrashed his face with a reverberated smack that echoed through the colosseum. Her hand sizzled as she pulled away and his face immediately turned red. The slap flared up his bruises and even opened one of his cuts as blood began to trickle down his cheek, and all the while, she wore but the most resentful glare.

Raydrik stood there in disbelief, though it wouldn’t last long. His shaken eyes narrowed, his face tightened, and even his veins became visible as a testament to the rage that now built.

“You ungrateful wench!” The duke then extended his arm, grabbing Nanna by the neck with a yelp as she felt all the confidence drain from her body in an instant. “Here I thought I’d do something nice for you, but it appears just seeing your friends isn’t enough, is it?” he hollered, dragging her body by the neck and holding it beyond the railing so that the arena floor was beneath her. “You want to join them down there? Is that what you want?!” Veld was amused, seeing Raydrik lose his cool so fast.

As for Nanna, she let out screams as she looked down, feet dangling helplessly above the arena floor. From this high up, it was a drop that’d leave her terribly injured, if not dead. Her screams eventually caught the attention of Eyvel, turning around after being blown back from one of Mareeta’s attacks. Her heart sank in an instant.

“Little Nan!” she cried, sheathing her blade immediately before running over and leaving Galzus to fend for himself temporarily. Soon enough, the duke let go, leaving Nanna to fall. Eyvel knew she wouldn’t make it unless she hurried, picking up her sprint and forcing herself to use her bad arm to scale onto the arena wall. She winced in agony, but managed to extend her other arm just in time to catch Nanna’s body. With another groan, the swordswoman leapt from the wall, safely placing the princess on the floor. Her eyes had been closed, seemingly accepting her fate before opening them to see the swordswoman hunched over her.

“E-Eyvel?” Nanna mumbled, but no sooner would the older blonde pull the girl up and into a one armed hug. Immediately, a blush came to the princess’ face and her eyes enlarged. She could feel Eyvel’s heartbeat in sync with her’s as the swordswoman then glided her hand gently against her back.

“Thank goodness you’re okay…” Eyvel whispered, eyeing the Earth Sword clung to her hips as well. Confused murmurs from the crowd served as white noise, perhaps wondering if it was now a four person match. Along with those murmurs, Nanna noticed Eyvel’s bleeding arm once more.

“F-Forget about me, what about you…?” Her voice trailed off, causing the swordswoman to pull away. “What about Mareeta?”

Eyvel’s face dimmed and broke apart. With moments passed, she’d let out an exaggerated sigh as she got to her feet, Nanna rising along with her. The two watched from across the colosseum while Mareeta thundered away at Galzus.

He could hardly block at least a quarter of her strikes, such ferocity causing Nanna's body to shiver. Eyvel could sense the way the girl trembled at her side, for she soon gently rested her good hand onto Nanna’s shoulder.

“Just stay behind me, alright?” she reassured. Nanna gave a subtle nod, watching as Galzus and Mareeta’s struggle continued on. After a few more clashes, he was finally able to parry one of Mareeta’s attacks. He’d then swiftly move in, directing a kick for the girl’s wrist that held her weapon… yet for some reason, as he eyed the girl’s face… he’d hesitate. She’d take advantage of it, rebounding and jabbing him in the abdomen with her elbow. As the monstrous man was stunned, the sword fighter would do the unthinkable, raising her blade and swinging it clear down to his damaged arm.

Nanna, Eyvel, the crowd, and even Veld alike all watched in awe. A discomforted groan sounded from the stands as in one clean slice… his arm had been severed right off. Nanna was absolutely mortified by the agonizing howls that escaped the man’s lips combined with the sight of blood now draining from his forearm. Nausea claimed her in an instant, hardly able to trap the rising vomit behind her lips while Eyvel’s face twitched in disbelief. Galzus slowly fell to his knees, and with it, Mareeta’s gaze would change, landing on Eyvel… and Nanna behind her — a new sight.

“Well, well. It seems I have reason to be impressed after all,” Veld remarked stoically from his chair while taking in the action. “Let’s see how much of those reserves are left.” Although Veld was finally beginning to see the results he yearned for, Raydrik — who had now sat down next to the bishop — was the opposite. His frustration from before had yet to subside, hand rubbing gently on the spot where the princess had hit him.

“Angered that your temper got the better of you?” Veld taunted, causing the duke to growl. A reminder he had thrown away one of his spoils. “Worry not, should she find herself in danger, my magic can bring her right back.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he answered with a sigh before attempting to get into the action himself. “Now with only mother and daughter left, the real fun is about to begin, no?” Veld gave no response, returning his stare to the arena floor… observing. There was one key detail Raydrik had yet to notice.

Their exchange coincided with Mareeta’s glare intensifying on Nanna, the dress Raydrik put her in, the discomfort on her face, and even the way she clung to Eyvel in fear. The longer her eyes remained, the more Mareeta’s body began to twitch like when she saw Eyvel before.

“W-What’s she doing..?” Nanna whimpered with weary eyes as Eyvel kept a brave face. The twitching Mareeta produced grew more violent, as if she was becoming unstable by the second. Constant groans of increasing volume were emitted from her lips, until all culminating together into a demonic scream much louder than any she had done before. Her voice tore through the air, and soon enough, a giant wave of purple energy exploded around her body, carrying the force of heavy storms. A constant shadowy aura now shrouded her body. All the while, Nanna quivered as Mareeta had eyed her the entire time. She began to wonder: was it her fault? Was Mareeta so angry with her that simply being in her presence made her explode?

“Mareeta…” Nanna whimpered while staring into the purple light. Wind from the explosive energy around Mareeta blew both her and Eyvel’s hair behind as both women’s optics were fully absorbed by the terror before them.

“It’s not your fault,” Eyvel mumbled as her hair continued to flow in the breeze. “That sword is possessing her mind, though maybe…”

Nanna waited for Eyvel to follow up, but no words came. The latter’s thoughts ran quickly through the way Mareeta assaulted Galzus, the rage she felt upon seeing her and Nanna alike. Was it possible she still had some self awareness? More than that, this power that Mareeta now showed, it was familiar to her — like she’d felt something akin to it in the past. But where? Without warning, however, Mareeta forced those musings to a close. She unleashed another scream, clutching tighter onto her weapon as if to signal an attack.

Eyvel quickly turned to Nanna, realizing now just guarding her wouldn’t be enough — not with this amount of power. She’d give the girl a small push as Mareeta’s body appeared to vanish into thin air. The princess looked back in a daze, only for Eyvel to shout, “Run!”

The Dungeon

While all of this transpired, Karin’s quick footsteps allowed her to catch up to the villagers in little time at all, though her eyes were fixed on the capes of the two sages who led them. The former of which turned around to acknowledge the familiar girl in an instant, followed by Hawk. Ironically, the only one who obliviously resumed their stride was Ced.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to come after us,” the brown haired sage remarked. Karin was out of breath, hands held to her knees, and eyes glued to the white colored back of Ced’s cape. At last, she was moments away from completing her mission. “Your highness, someone’s here to see us!”

Hawk’s call caught the sage’s attention this time. His pace came to a graceful halt, looking over his shoulder. Scanning the row of villagers, he was perplexed as to who exactly he was supposed to see when another voice called to him — further in the halls.

“Your highness, over here..!”

The prince’s eyes followed the source like darts, landing on perhaps the last person he was expecting to see today. “Karin?” His demeanor was calm, but the shock to his heart was undeniable. How had he not noticed her before? Then again, she had grown a bit taller since he last saw her from the looks of it. “What are you doing here?”

“I was… looking for you…” Karin’s words were scattered as she caught her breath.

“Looking for me?” Ced repeated, though that really shouldn’t come as a surprise. He had been gone for months now without sending even a word, a fact he wasn’t exactly proud of as evident by the way his eyes dimmed. “...Did my sister send you here, or was it my mother?”

Karin froze for a moment. “...Princess Fee.” Nothing else followed.

“I see.” Ced gave an understanding nod and left it at that, though her lips appeared as if they were holding back a waterfall. He’d leave it be for the moment and took it upon himself to close the distance between them. “Where’s Misha?”

“Everyone always wants to know about her.” Karin rolled her eyes to Ced’s surprise as Hawk scratches his neck. Guilty. “Misha isn’t with me. Bet you were looking forward to seeing her, huh?”

Karin’s reiteration caused Ced to blush. “Oh, no, I… I mean yes, but not any more than anyone else.” Was her presence really so outrageous of a question? After all, it was everyone’s understanding that Misha took the girl under her wing. “I’m sorry, I just assumed she would be,” he ceded once the embarrassment faded.

He assumed? Karin’s hands went to her hips. “Well how nice of you to finally care after all this time.” The sass in her voice came like the crack of a whip. She really had been spending time with Fee.

“Well, I-” Ced began before swiftly cut off by the wave of Karin’s finger.

“Things have changed since you left, your highness. Misha’s gone.”

“W-What?” he grimaced. Misha left? “W-When? Where did she go?”

Karin’s expression remained bitter, though she looked away. “...A couple months or so after you did, and… I’m not sure.” Her voice next lost a bit of its bass.

The vivid image of a woman with medium length green hair in her late teens came to mind. She’d always been around for as long as the prince could remember, the only knight his mother has ever trained. Even as memories at a freezing bedside came next, she had been there too, like family... so why leave? He tried to mask it, but the thought left him devastated.

“I assumed as much by your reaction earlier,” Hawk sounded with his arms crossed. “Did she at least finish your training?”

“No-”

“That’s uncharacteristically reckless of her.”

Karin’s brows crossed. “Oh yeah? Seems there’s a lot of that goin’ around in Silesse nowadays.” The passive aggression in her words hit their mark. Hawk was speechless. “Look, none of this is the point,” she sighed.

“Right, sorry.” Misha’s absence, and Karin’s attitude… something had to be amiss in Silesse, and Ced was terrified to guess what. His eyes shifted to the villagers, however. They were confused, surely having no idea what any of this meant. The sage touched his temple.

“Karin, I have no doubt that my sister sent you here for good reason, but.” His expression was a taste mournful. “As you can see, we’re in the middle of something.” Can’t this at least wait until we’re outside the palace? That’s what he really meant to say against his better judgment.

“Alright, but…” Karin paused. “As soon as the villagers are safe, then-”

“Wait!” Ced’s conscience locked onto a spiking sensation of mana in the air. Both of his colleagues were confused. “The draft has changed. Someone’s approaching.” Someone imposing too. The cause of the prince’s warning was soon felt by Hawk whose eyes flashed. Could it perhaps be that swordsman from the plaza? The potency of the air, it was similar in some ways.

Karin was still in the dark. “I-I don’t feel anything…”

“Believe me when I say they’re dangerous, Karin,” Ced grunted. “I need you and Hawk to stay with the villagers. I’ll go on ahead and investigate.”

Hawk agreed, though Karin wanted to resist, or so that was until seeing the looks both sages gave. Ced wasn’t kidding. “Okay… I’d just get in the way, wouldn’t I?”

Ced didn’t want her to take it that way, but what choice did he have? The sage then walked forward on his lonesome, the hall eventually feeding out into a room with torches laid about. It was square shaped, medium in size, and a door on the opposite side marked a potential exit. There were a couple tables, anvils, and steel wardrobes pressed to the wall throughout the room as well. Perhaps the space was used for equipment.

Nonetheless, as he entered, the air became more dense in a landslide. His eyes scanned the room, not catching but a whiff of any movement — that is until an echoed click came from the top left corner. His ears perked, immediately shifting his gaze to that of a woman stepping out from behind a wardrobe. Her hair was long, tied in a ponytail, and lilac colored. As the light of a torch lit up her face, eyes of opposing colors appeared as well. Not at all the sight he was expecting, in fact she was admittedly kind of attractive. His mind fixated more on the color of her hair, however. It matched the description his scouts gave of Friege’s royal family.

“Hello there,” the woman greeted, by now standing across from him. “You must be the rat my lord spoke of.”

“That’s certainly a way to greet someone.” Ced nearly laughed. “I suppose I should expect nothing less from one of Friege’s own.”

Ishtar raised a brow. “I’ll have you know that I am not just ‘one of Friege’s own’, I am its crown princess, Ishtar.” Nothing the wind sage couldn’t have found out with deduction. “I know not who you are, but I’d suggest you tread lightly around someone who is also called ‘The Goddess of Thunder’ by the people of Connacht.”

The Goddess of Thunder ? Ced cracked a grin. “Then perhaps you should know that I’ve been a thorn in your father’s side for a couple moons now.” He’d take a brief pause and soak in the satisfaction that came with the statement. “Ever heard of a group of ‘insurrectionists’ known as the Magi?”

Ishtar felt herself flinch. This Magi, the sage’s words seemed to suggest he was the leader, yet she clearly recalled Raydrik saying they were dealt with. To nobody’s surprise, the bastard lied. “So you still operate?”

“And we will until Munster is wrestled back from your family’s control.”

“...Why do you struggle? If it weren’t for us, the people of the north would be at the mercy of a bloodhound like King Travant.” Ishtar began a clockwise pace around the room, careful to avoid any of the furniture. “Thracia has been engulfed in years of internal strife, and at last it has peace by virtue of Grannvale’s rule.”

“...From one dog to another, I say.” Ced began a pace of his own, except counter clockwise. He wasn’t about to listen to the justifications of an imperialist. “The plan was to come after your family once Raydrik had been dealt with, but why turn down an opportunity that presents itself?”

Both sages would then stop, staring across from each other but in different positions than when they began.

“...Such insolence. Soon, you’ll kneel before me.” She scowled at him and drew a sword from her belt.

Ced answered in kind, slightly bending his knees and extending an arm into an offensive stance. His other drew a tome from his robes. Ishtar’s eyes narrowed, taking a fencer’s stance — feet slightly apart and tip pointed towards Ced. The two took a moment to explore the other’s eyes, ending as Ishtar took a breath that preluded her swift, although brief, advance. As the distance closed, she lunged her sword in sixth position.

“Let the first movement begin.” Ced snapped his fingers, and at once, his body appeared to vanish, leaving only the wind in his wake.

“What?” Ishtar’s boots thundered as she came to an abrupt stop.

“The harmony of the wind is not something so easily contained.”

Ced’s voice sounded from behind. Ishtar swung around with astonished eyes. The green haired sage now stood at the other side of the room. Was this some sort of trick? No, if he was evasive, she’d just need another approach. She returned the blade to her waist, instead taking a yellow colored book as her free arm extended. She opened it, the sensation of lightning coming to her mind before flicking her index and middle fingers downwards. Blue bolts of lightning then erupted from the ceiling in an instant. Ced waved his arm, wind ferrying his body just enough to the side so that the attack missed. Her fingers then changed position to the side and summoned more electricity; Ced’s body vanished in the wind like the first time. As he did, Ishtar’s brown eye flashed a glow that caused the bolts to change course, though they’d merely strike the nearby anvil.

“Please use your ears, for you may be out of tune.” Ced reappeared right behind her, extending an arm and beginning a chant in a language that was foreign to the princess. He could see it in how her body twitched from behind — she was becoming irritated. She’d redraw her blade, turning around with a swing for but the same result.

“Have no appreciation for the finer arts? Fret not,” Ced taunted, yet again reappearing behind her as his chant came to an end. “For a ruffian like yourself, I’m sure you’ll find my next melody much more fierce than the last. Forseti!”

Ishtar became bug eyed as a massive concentration of wind formed behind her. It exploded across her backside with the sensation of tens of blades and cratered her body into the wall with a phantasmic shriek. As the dust cleared, Ced approached the dazed princess in a confident stride. Stones crumbled to the ground from the cracked outline of the indent he blasted her into.

“Such potent wind magic…” Ishtar muttered as she struggled to her feet. Small cuts and scrapes were visible all over her body as well as diminishing flames. From the red book she held, it appeared she shielded herself with magic at the last minute, though damage had still been done. “Forseti... My lord was correct.”

“So you’re familiar with the breath of the gods?”

Ishtar glided over the question. “That must also mean you’re the prince of Silesse.”

Now right in front of her, Ced tilted his head with a bit of condescension. “Don’t let that be your excuse for struggling, I insist.” Ishtar’s face blistered with rage, grunting aggressively and lunging her sword as Ced’s body merely gilded backwards akin to a ghost. His grin returned. “After all, what favors has your title done you?”

Her lips pursed like an erupting volcano complete with bloodshot eyes. As she’d violently throw her arms down to the side, Ced couldn’t help but find amusem*nt in her boiling tantrum.

“Heh, what’s the matter? If you keep this up, you might collapse.” He then put a hand to his chin. “Come to think of it, what was that you said about me kneeling before you?” Ced’s tune would come to change, however, effectively pushing Ishtar over the edge as a vein now bulged at her temple. Aggravated growls bled through her teeth which crescendoed into a blood curdling scream that generated a ball of electricity above her head. The ball then rapidly expanded into an explosion of plasma around her body and the entire room. He’d leap backwards but couldn’t hope to dodge, taking the attack head on as the lightning caused the torches to flicker and eventually burn out.

A couple stray blue flashes faded the room into complete darkness; smoke lifted from Ced’s body and he fell to one knee with a strained grunt. He couldn’t see a thing, fully reliant on the sound of Ishtar’s loose belts and heels — surely she’d struggle as much as him. The room soon lit up a hue of blue, illuminating both their bodies as Ishtar’s casting style had changed. Electricity now generated from her fingertips, the princess spinning before unleashing a straight bolt towards Ced. He’d dodge with the movement of his wind, gliding in for an attack while the bolt burst behind him into a sphere. A flickering blue light guided him until cutting off into darkness just a couple feet shy of his target. The lack of light left him susceptible to a sudden jab from Ishtar’s sword at his chest as a pained yelp escaped his lips. He instinctively used wind magic to propel himself backwards — only to stumble over a table he had no hope in seeing.

Ishtar shot another bolt from her fingertips as Ced’s back hit the ground. She’d then thrust those fingers downwards, her brown eye flashing as the attack appeared to home in and strike the prince’s exact location. Taking the attack, when the glistening light once again faded, Ced reluctantly stowed away the exalted green tome in his grasp. Forseti wouldn’t do him any good if he could only see when Ishtar willed it. The sage then withdrew a gold colored spellbook from his robes — a power taught to him by an echo of his past, but hopefully it’d suffice.

Ced pushed himself up and soon raised an arm as the light of the sun itself was carved upon his mind. A concentrated blast of light formed at his palm, surprising Ishtar as his arm took a circular motion that directed the energy towards her. She casted another Thoron spell to counter, the attacks dispersing each other and releasing a gold and blue radiance into the air. Ced hopped to the side and generated a follow up blast, Ishtar rolling to dodge before shooting yet another homing bolt. This time, Ced took a deep breath, holding a firm stance as light surrounded him like a shield. The electricity was absorbed into the barrier and changed its coloring before eventually fading out.

The back and forth of these magic attacks went on for several moments, streaks of light continuing to dance upon their bodies and the walls alike. Both sages had grazed the other with their spells at least a couple times by now, but neither were making definitive progress. The two were standing right across from each other as the flash of the latest attack faded. Ced would be the first to initiate the next, charging another concentration of radiation as Ishtar took to her thoughts. Over and over her electricity had failed to overtake the pure light energy of Ced's attacks, perhaps it was time to try a different element. Such were her thoughts as she returned her Thoron to her belt, grabbing for the red book as a memory struck her mind.

Auntie, why does my book say I should never mix fire and light spells?

Oh? Well, that's because if the two were to combine, the flame would grow uncontrollably… maybe even explode…

Really? Why's it do that?

Nobody knows the answer for sure. It's a phenomenon of magic.

A phenomenon..?

That's right. Though, I believe if we continue to apply ourselves in researching what's written in these tomes, we may stumble upon a secret. Some say the person who wrote the first spell was no magician at all, rather an educated experimentalist.

Those are a lot of big words…

Big they might have been, the opportunity had come to put a thing or two to the test. She raised an arm, fire now forming at her palm before hurling it with a punch towards Ced's ball of light. All at once, Ced's eyes enlarged as the energy above his head was overtaken by fire and produced a light so bright it was as if he could see his own bones. But that wasn't all, for the flame grew rapidly and quickly engulfed the wind sage’s body as he screamed in agony.

Ishtar was unfazed by the display, rather intrigued to see as Ced fought through the flames to retake Forseti from his robes, soon unleashing a quick rush of wind that extinguished the fire. It was too late, however, his clothes and skin alike showed clear signs of burn damage as the sage merely collapsed to the floor. He still drew breath, but the will to fight had left.

As the light of the flame burned out, Ishtar finally took it upon herself to relight the torches with her fire spell, able to gaze upon her collapsed opponent in all his glory. Patches of his outfit were missing; his face was coated red and black in places.

“I'd say you've done even more than kneel to me.” Ishtar approached closer, now able to marvel at the expression he wore on top of it all. Terror to the highest degree — borderline shell shocked. She took a moment to enjoy it before raising her hand to finish the job. To think it was the lesson of a traitor who saw her to victory.

With a spell beginning to charge at her fingertips, blades of wind seemingly appeared out of nowhere, assaulting the princess’ arm and forcing her to stagger backwards. Ced's expression changed, forcing his weakened body to the side to find that Hawk was now standing in the doorway, charging yet another spell.

No!

“I ask that you step away from His Highness at once!” Hawk yelled, swiping his arm like a whip as another wind attack hurled towards Ishtar. It'd make a direct hit to her abdomen, followed up by a surprise kick to her face from Karin who leapt off the nearby table. Neither Ishtar nor Ced noticed as either of these two approached, yet the latter wasn't exactly happy about it. In fact, he wanted to scream.

Once Ishtar recovered from the attacks, she'd first turn her attention to the pitiful green haired knight at her back. She watched as the junior knight attempted another jump maneuver, only to draw her sword and stab the girl mid-air in fourth* position. Karin fell to the ground like a rock once Ishtar pulled back her blade. She then returned her attention to Hawk who was chanting the phrase for an even stronger wind attack. She'd return her blade for Thoron once again, her mastery of the spell allowing her to cast it just in time to match Hawk's in a beam struggle of magic. Despite wind magic's natural advantages, Ishtar's raw power was enough to where she overwhelmed the brown haired sage, the electricity cutting through and hitting its mark. Sparks and smoke rose from Hawk's body as he'd soon fall himself, though only to his knee. He cursed under his breath, though never took his eyes off the princess — determined to win somehow.

“I suppose it's only natural you'd have allies lurking in the shadows, though they didn't amount to much,” Ishtar scorned, briefly eyeing the grounded Ced before returning to Hawk.

“Y-You, will not win…” Hawk groaned, clutching onto his tome. As he flipped through the pages, he'd be stopped, but not by Ishtar.

“Karin… Hawk…” Ced's labored chords resonated harshly in the room. “Why did you come here..? I told you to leave me…” A nasty cough that carried a sound all too painfully familiar for him then escaped his lips. Ironic it was.

“B-But you were gonna die!” Karin countered, forcing herself up and clutching her wound where some blood stained her hand.

“I told you to stay with the children…” Ced simply reiterated.

Immediately, Ishtar let out a gasp. “Children?”

“We won’t let you take them..!” Hawk now groaned out with angry eyes. Ishtar ignored the warning, however, walking closer to the brown haired sage, though her eyes were directed to the halls behind him. Hawk was preparing to do anything to stop her, but to his surprise, just a few feet in front of him, she'd halt.

Sure enough, as she had gotten closer, villagers — watching from a distance — came into view. An iron stake wedged itself into her chest with what she saw next - children amongst them, all wearing absolutely terrified expressions. In mere seconds, her optics became wide and casted with remorse. All the Magi were trying to do, at least in this instance, was save these children? She had nearly killed them all for it, and now their innocent eyes gazed upon her in fear — like she was a monster. Was she?

The longer she stared, the more her lips trembled. Her brown eye in particular looked as though it were on the verge of tears as layers upon layers of confliction cascaded her mind. She looked to the nearly felled Ced and then the children one last time as she bit her lip. Eventually, she began to back away, and for a reason that neither Ced, Karin, or Hawk could know, she'd leave the room — and them to lick their wounds — through the other exit. She left the door open as she went, natural light bleeding in from down the halls onto Karin and Hawk's confused mugs. Urgency around Ced's condition would soon take over, but the thought that lingered in all of them is that Ishtar had let them go — let them escape to the outside… and on seemingly but a whim.

Just outside the colosseum

Leif and the others’ feet glided across the castle floor, at last reaching the first level. The towering sight of the arena walls were coming into view with the raucous cheers of the colosseum crowd against their ears along with it. There weren’t any soldiers to be seen on the outside of the entry gates, meaning it had to be just as Dalsin had said — they were partaking in a celebration of some kind. Leading the pack, Brighton would be the first to stop at the large gate, Leif and the others following suit.

“It appears to be locked.”

“Locked?” Machyua questioned, turning to Lara. “How’s that a problem?”

“He means that the doors are suspended down. Nothin’ I can do about that.”

As the three Magi sorted out the situation, Leif marched up to the barred gate, peering through to see stairs off to the side, presumably where guests went to their seat. Directly in front, there was another closed gate that appeared to lead out to the arena floor. It was hard to see much of anything, but the sounds of clashing blades and a battle was something he could seldom ever confuse by now. Just as Leif began to search his brain for answers, however, Fergus’ blade would thrash against the steel bar inches away from his head. The sound caused all around to give the mercenary a concerned look.

Fergus merely shrugged. “Hey, if we can’t unlock it, we break the damn thing down.” He gave another swing, this time Leif backing up as to at least not have his ear ring from the impact. “I ain’t see any other way.”

For Leif, the reasoning was as sound as any. If Eyvel truly was in there, he didn’t feel comfortable wasting the time to find another entrance. He’d soon withdraw his Light Brand, joining Fergus in slicing at the bars. Dalsin would join in next but with his axe. Amidst the ensuing harsh sound, Brighton let out an exaggerated sigh before begrudgingly joining in himself. Machyua followed.

Asbel swallowed his annoyance with Brighton’s recent attitude and took a casting stance, opening one of his tomes. “I’m going to put extra power into Graphcalibur, so if you can get through this one, I’ll blow right through the second in one shot,” he announced from behind the others as a breeze gathered at his hand.

On the colosseum floor, the battle between Eyvel and Mareeta was still underway. Mareeta’s last slash had sent a guarding Eyvel backwards who struggled to keep her footing, it being no sooner than she did that the former — moving so fast as if teleporting — appeared overhead. Eyvel’s eyes enlarged before Mareeta, still mid-air, gave a downwards kick to the crown of her head. The blonde’s entire body was floored at the snap of a finger, Eyvel’s face forced to eat the stone beneath her. She’d struggle to lift herself with only one arm just for her face to be met with another kick that sent her tumbling backwards in the direction of the still grounded Galzus. Her body was beaten down to the point that every attack felt as though it had the knockback of a hurricane. Still, by some miracle, she attempted to get back up yet again.

All the while, Nanna had heeded Eyvel’s call to run, it being in one of the dug out rooms where challengers emerged that she hid. She peered around the doorway with anxious eyes that went back and forth between the now one armed Galzus and the ongoing battle. The former of those two sights were right outside the doorway, Nanna earlier witnessing the entire feat of this barely conscious giant of a man propping his back against the wall. Did he know she was there, or did it even matter at this point? She was scared either way. Such would only be solidified as the fight drew closer to her line of sight, able to see every thrash Mareeta gave to the woman she called mother.

The latest attack Mareeta gave was from her swinging her sword as if it were a bat, Eyvel blocking only to be sent airborne before landing flat on her back. The attack left the swordswoman just about 10-20 meters away from Nanna’s location. For a moment, she reminisced — the sight of mother and daughter together, it always left an envious sting that ate away at her heart. Such a sting paled in comparison to being beaten like a hammer, she'd never ask for this. As Eyvel once again did the impossible, pushing herself up and showing an intent to stand right back up, Nanna abandoned her hiding spot. She ran from the dugout room to Eyvel’s side; she cried her name as if it’d make the woman’s situation any safer.

“Nanna, I told you to run..!” Eyvel groaned.

She kept running, but what she wouldn’t notice until the last moment was how Mareeta’s gaze changed its direction. Her ears and the corner of her eye caught the sword fighter’s approach — paralyzed by the wake of her friend. Following a scream, rather than draw the weapon at her waist, she accepted her fate with closed eyes… only for them to be forced back open as her body was shoved to the side. In a daze, Nanna watched Eyvel take a slice across the abdomen — an attack Mareeta intended for her — in what felt like slow motion. By the time she landed rear first onto the stone, Eyvel staggered backwards. She held her blade in front of the princess, a taunt Mareeta tested as she charged again. This time, Nanna watched from behind as Eyvel moved to block the attack with her blade, the impact causing blood to squirt out from the new wound at her core.

She became light headed, screaming for the swordswoman’s safety, but Mareeta showed no signs of backing away from the collision. The sword fighter applied more pressure as blood only continued to flow from Eyvel who mustered up all the strength she could. As she stared at Eyvel’s twitching backside, blood soon found its way onto her face and her emerald eyes went agape. The fluid was stifling on her skin, her breath failing to return as she'd cover her eyes. As the crowd thundered away at her ears, those followed, leaving only the vain thought of waking up in her bed at Fiana — before the empire came, before she couldn't go a single minute without wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

“Come on, Asbel!” Leif’s voice sounded as the first arena door finally fell. Everyone backed away and the wind mage in question performed a wave with his hand, commanding the power of a storm’s worth of wind.

“Graphcalibur!”

At once, the shrieking sound of steel echoed throughout the colosseum as a blast of wind flowed in and caught the attention of Nanna, Eyvel, Raydrik, and even Mareeta who finally pulled her blade away. Eyvel fell to one knee as she did.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” Raydrik roared as the gusts subsided. Everyone was soon greeted by the sight of Leif and his new allies at the large doorway. The crowd went silent.

“L-Leif?” Nanna murmured, still hunched on the ground as her hands slowly parted from her ears. Had he truly managed to escape or was this a dream? Had she met her end to the shadow sword after all? Yet, she could feel her beating heart jump as his eyes briefly met hers — this had to be real.

Nanna, Mareeta, and Eyvel… Within seconds, the Leonster prince’s eyes had found all three as brightness claimed his optics. “You’re all alive!” It was tempting for him to say ‘safe’, but one look at the condition of any of them told an entirely different story.

It wasn't just me. He also caught two girls I grew up with. I wanna get them out.

Fergus stood at Leif’s side, those words echoing as he stared only at Nanna — the girl he confused for Ares. This was the blonde that he grew up with? To be in the company of a prince, just who was she? As he looked closer, his eyes noticed a mark at her chest that made them nearly explode.

You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!

“It’s the end for you, Raydrik!” Leif threatened from the floor. “After all you’ve put my friends through, I’ll enjoy every second that you bleed!” He’d raise his weapon as those to his sides joined in.

“So the prince escaped did he?! Hmph, it’s no matter. That girl will kill them all!” Raydrik shouted from above.

“What girl?” Leif immediately questioned. “Mareeta, what are you doing?”

Eyvel heard this and looked at Mareeta’s halted state. For whatever reason, she was just staring in Leif’s direction — though her body slowly twitched as if resisting the building urge to attack. She had to act fast, perhaps this was the only opening she’d get. Before Leif or the others could even understand what Raydrik’s musings meant, Eyvel hopped back up and nearly tackled the girl into a bear hug.

“Eyvel wait!” Nanna warned, though… Mareeta did nothing. In fact, as Eyvel held her, the girl’s low growls subsided.

“You can stop now…” Eyvel whispered.

Nanna looked up in awe. As Eyvel caressed the girl, it looked as though she began to cry.

“W-What?” Raydrik exclaimed. “W-Why isn’t she attacking?!”

Veld’s face remained ever stoic as he rose from his chair to his feet. “Look closer, you fool. With every familiar face, her emotions have become more unstable,” the bishop explained as the conclusion to this battle he was suspicious of came to pass. “Perhaps she has reached her limit, or do you not see the tears in her eyes?” At the question, Raydrik hunches over the railing. Sure enough, he could see the shiny reflection of light off her skin.

Nonetheless, as Eyvel held her daughter tight, her face began to break with a couple tears. “My poor daughter, how Raydrik has tormented you… I’m sorry for this…” she whispered before raising her good arm and delivering a blunt strike to the back of Mareeta’s head to the surprise of all around. The blow knocked Mareeta out cold and she soon fell to the floor.

“No!” Raydrik exclaimed.

“Eyvel?” Even from a distance, Leif couldn’t believe his eyes. “W-What did you do that for?”

“L-Leif, it’s okay!” Nanna insisted from the ground with frantic arms. “We needed to get her away from that sword…”

“Y-You did good…” Galzus’ deep voice next croaked through the air to Nanna’s right, immediately catching the prince’s attention. And who was this? The Magi noticed the fallen giant near Nanna as well. Their thoughts differed from the prince’s, however, with vivid sensations of the castle town battle. What was he doing here? Perhaps a better question, who had beaten him up so bad?

“...I’ll explain later, Leif,” Eyvel answered after moments of silence with a cough. “It’s just good to see you in one piece. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough strength left to find you.” Another cough produced blood and brought her down to one knee again, except this time, her body faced him and flashed her bloodied arm.

Leif nearly cringed. Her condition was even worse than he thought. “Forget about me. Asbel, do you have any medicine left? She needs healing now!”

Nanna’s eyes flickered. Asbel? He was here too? She rose from the ground while Leif and Asbel — though cautiously — finally started a stride towards the swordswoman.

“No!” Raydrik shouted again with fury, slamming his fists like a toddler at the sight. “This is not what was supposed to happen! Urgh, Veld, use your magic now! Seize that Nordion girl!” He then turned to the crowd of knights still in the stands. “And for the rest of you, stop standing around! Prince Leif is your target! I don’t want to see any of those ants escape this palace alive!”

As the duke barked these orders, Veld’s stoicism fell to a scowl as he unveiled a staff from his cloak. “Were this experiment not a success, I’d have you disciplined for your temper.”

Chaos broke loose and all were soon overwhelmed. Soldiers scampered from their seats in the stands demanding an immediate response from the united group. With all the noise and movement, everyone’s attention drifted somewhere different than another’s. A few soldiers near the bottom stands would go as far as to jump down onto the arena floor to be fought by the allied Magi. Soon, all but Eyvel, the collapsed Mareeta, and Nanna were in a skirmish of some kind. As for Nanna, however, she’d be the first to notice a mysterious ring forming beneath her feet.

“W-What’s happening?” It was akin to the imagery she had seen when that strange bishop entered. Her body felt equally strange, the sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced - as though her life force had broken up into particles. Leif and Eyvel — whose eyes were fixed on Mareeta’s unconscious body in front of her — reacted to Nanna’s voice, the latter’s gaze going wide at what was behind.

“Nanna, move!” Eyvel yelled, using the last of her strength to leap up and shove the girl out of the circle’s radius. Nanna fell to the ground abruptly, soon panning up with shaken optics to see Eyvel struggling to stand. A beam of light surrounded her body, time seeming to stop for just a second as the waves of Fiana’s shoreline cascaded her mind. Her soul had long been claimed like sediment by the waters that carried her only memories, and with them the fear of never making it back… yet as the woman eyed Mareeta on the ground, Leif's approach, and lastly Nanna collapsed before her, she merely smiled. “Grow strong… It’s in your blood…”

Suddenly, just as Leif reached the two blondes, Eyvel’s body was whisked away up into the chamber where Raydrik and Veld resided. What the prince said next fell on deaf ears — Nanna took on a deadpan stare towards the room and Eyvel in it. The two men seemed to speak to one another, until eventually, the bishop raised a staff again. What she saw next was something out of a horrifying tale as Eyvel’s figure slowly morphed into a new substance and color. Were they killing her? When the phenomenon came to a close, Eyvel's hand, firm but always gentle, the same one that selflessly saved her from this fate, lingered at her chest… Her.

“What are they doing to Eyvel?!” Leif’s voice roared. Soldiers continued to pour down from the stands as the prince eventually turned around, and it was then that he noticed Mareeta’s body was suddenly gone too. All of his stress responses kicked in at once — sweat coming down quick as he could only wonder if the same magic took her when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Ay, Prince! Let’s get the hell outta here!” It was Fergus’ voice. The mercenary at some point ran over to him and Nanna.

“Y-You mean leave?” No, please, not again. “They just took Eyvel and Mareeta’s missing too!” Leif challenged. “I have to at least find her — what happened to saving everyone and putting Raydrik in his place?”

“Yeh, well plans change!” Fergus shouted back with a light shove before pointing in Veld’s direction. “That magic is bad news, I’m not messin’ with any of that!”

“But-”

“Would yeh rather die before gettin’ the chance to try again?!” Leif froze over, the mercenary’s notion only underscored as his attention transited to the shell shocked princess. Putting his suspicions aside, her face was evidence that she wouldn’t be getting up on her own. Paralyzed, eyes nearly soulless and locked on to the chamber that was a prison once hers and now Eyvel’s. This… this was…

“...My fault…” Whispering failed to slay her shame — words unheard are felt even still.

“C’mon, lass, yer comin’ too!” She succumbed to a trance, releasing not even an iota of a response as Fergus scooped her up and propped her body over his shoulder.

The soldiers who were now nearly all the way down from the stands. Leif found the nerve to turn around. Brighton, Machyua, Dalsin, and Asbel — they couldn’t hold everyone off forever, not without the help of Ced and Hawk. That last thought stabbed him. His eyes returned to Fergus with Nanna over his shoulder, nodding with the utmost level of reluctance. He’d bite his quivering lips and took one last gaze at Eyvel whose body now looked of stone — a woman who had given him everything, but all he could do in return… was run. His mind wavered on a foul memory felt just earlier today, one he swallowed with his chest and gagged from. At his leave, the rest of his allies followed suit and they flowed out of the arena doors with packs of Munster’s knights behind.

With this sight as the perfect backdrop, Veld raised a hand to Eyvel’s face which was now rock hard to the touch. He’d flash a satisfied smile which was greatly contrasted with the scowl that Raydrik wore to his side.

“And just like that, both of my prizes are gone!” the duke growled, shooting up from his seat. It was then his turn to notice the bodies of not only Mareeta, but Galzus too, were missing. No matter the cause, it would seem he didn't have the swordsman to fall back on.

“She may not be the Nordion girl, but what say you, Duke Raydrik?” Veld asked, now full on caressing the statue of the swordswoman. The bearded man said nothing at first, letting out another growl as he turned with enough force that his cape audibly blew in the air.

“I say my best man lost his arm for nothing!” He marched to the back of the room. “I’m making sure those whelps don’t step a single foot outside my city!” He then took his leave down the stairs that he came.

“What a shame. Only I remain to bask in the sight of Munster’s newest champion.”