Blue - Chapter 25 - Silent_Witness (2024)

Chapter Text

Things happened very quickly after that. Sai seemed to… awaken, the glowing veins around his eyes fading, leaving him confused to find himself standing atop a pillar of ice with a dozen soldiers with their weapons pointed at him. But before any violence could break out, an old, stooped woman stepped forth from the crowd. Her garb was simple, her head covered with a hood, but when she spoke, her voice carried an authority that silenced everyone present. “The gods have spoken through this boy,” she said. “She must be innocent. How else could he have frozen those flames? How else could he have freed her from her bonds?”

“Mere trickery!” one of the guards shouted in turn. “Do not attribute to gods a feat of a common magician!”

“But how could a common magician invoke the secret names of the gods?” the woman asked, her voice ringing out. “How could he have done what he did unless the gods themselves were with him? If he speaks true, and this girl is innocent, then we must listen, lest we shed the blood of an innocent.”

The guards paused, looking between the elder and Sai. The crowd muttered amongst themselves, the anger giving way to doubt. But the caped guard then pushed his way through the crowd. “The girl has already stood trial and been found guilty. Her sentence will be upheld.”

“Say you do put this girl to death. And when the next child is butchered, what will you say then?” the woman shot back. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the poor and destitute of our village going missing? Or that their disappearances have been happening long before this doctor came to our town?”

No one had an answer. A sense of unease gripped the crowd, as if a shadow had fallen upon them. But the caped guard stood firm. “We have our orders,” he insisted, drawing his sword. “Step aside or suffer the consequences.”

There was an immediate uproar among the crowd. It seemed the woman was important- important enough that they were willing to stand against the soldiers to protect her. Yet, even so, the caped guard gripped his sword tightly, even as his comrades’ resolve faltered. But eventually, the caped guard relented, returning his sword to its sheath. But his firmness didn’t waver. “…Two days,” he said. “I will grant you two days to prove her innocence. If you fail to persuade us, then the fires await her.” He made a signal, and the other guards began to withdraw.

As soon as they did, Baligant scrambled to climb up the hill of ice. “Sai! Are you alright!? What the hell was that!?” he demanded.

“I… I don’t know,” Sai replied. His voice sounded distant, almost dreamlike. “It was… I could see what I was doing, but it was like someone else was moving my body.”

As the crowd dispersed, the girl looked at Sai warily, then at Baligant. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I’m Baligant,” he replied, helping her down. “And this is Sai. We’re travelers. What’s your name?”

“Jibril. I’m an apothecary. From Kobol.”

Kobol? Neither of the boys had any idea where that was. But Sai then asked, “An apothecary? Aren’t those people that make medicine?”

But before they could speak further, the old woman climbed up the icy hill as well. “I’m afraid pleasantries will have to wait,” she said. “Come with me. There’s much to discuss.”

They followed her to a stone structure much larger than the others. There were no windows, but a large fire burned in the center, which the old woman immediately began tending to. “What, uh… what exactly is going on here?” Baligant said.

The old woman sighed, still tending the flames. “It is as I said. For many months now, the poor and destitute of this village have been disappearing, one by one. Most have not noticed, or if they have, they choose not to. But now that a child has been taken, they have no choice but to acknowledge the truth before their eyes.” She glanced at Jibril. "You were framed, my dear. But thanks to the grace of the gods, your life has been spared."

Baligant and Sai shared a look, confused, as Jibril just sat in silence. “So… what do we do now?” Sai asked.

“Now, we find proof of my innocence,” Jibril said. “And I think I know exactly where to start. But…” Her expression hardened as she turned to the older woman. “I need to see the body.”

Sai looked at Jibril in horror. “You, what?”

“I have suspicions about who or what might be responsible for the murder,” Jibril explained, sounding resolute. “But I need to see the body to confirm them.”

Baligant exchanged another look with Sai. They both had a feeling they didn’t like where this was going. But there was no turning back now.

The woman turned, leading the three deeper down a set of stairs deeper into the building. The smell of decay hung thick in the air, and the air became strangely cold. Jibril asked if the body had undergone preparations for burial, or had been otherwise tampered with. The woman shook her head, saying it had been kept in its natural state.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they entered a small room of stone, dominated by a large wooden table stained with old, dark patches of blood. Something was laying on the table, covered by a sheet, and the scent of rot had amplified. The smell wasn’t unusual to Baligant- when hunting, it wasn’t rare to find the decaying remnants of prey, or sometimes, predators. But this was different. It was… more foul. Almost… unnatural.

Jibril pulled back the sheet. Beneath was the body of a boy, even younger than Sai. Earlier, a passerby had claimed the boy had been butchered- but that phrasing didn’t seem to do justice. It would have been more accurate to say the boy had been ripped apart: his body was mangled, slashes covering his chest and abdomen, with one arm and one leg detached from the rest of his body, his face twisted in a silent scream. It didn’t seem like a human being could do this. If anything, Baligant would’ve put the blame on a wild animal.

Yet, despite the gruesome sight, Jibril seemed unperturbed, examining the wounds closely, running her fingers over the gory gashes. Finally, she leaned in close, and shoved a hand into a wound in the boy’s chest. Sai wretched- and the sight was enough to make Baligant’s stomach turn as well. But Jibril continued to rummage inside the corpse, before finally removing her hand.

“I knew it,” she said. “His liver is missing.”

Sai and Baligant looked at her in confusion. “What does that mean?” Sai asked.

“Human livers, and the blood contained within, are a necessary ingredient for many dark rituals,” Jibril explained. “If I had to guess… this boy was probably murdered by a beastman.”

Beastmen? That word sent a chill down Baligant's spine. In stories, they were monstrous creatures, both man and beast, that fed on the flesh of humans. He couldn’t believe such a thing actually existed.

“A… beastman?” Sai asked cautiously, his face still pale. “But, we would’ve seen someone like that.”

“Beastmen can take on a human guise,” the older woman said, “but to do so, they must… consume a fresh human liver every new moon.” She put a hand against her face. “How could I not have realized sooner?”

“Beastmen target those on the lower end of society,” JIbril replied. “Beggars, travelers, those who wouldn’t be missed. It probably only went after this boy because it killed all the easier targets first.”

“Wouldn’t… people notice if a bunch of bodies turned up with all their livers missing, though?” Baligant asked.

“They would. Which is why disguised beastmen go out of their way to hide the bodies of their victims.” Jibril looked down at the body. “The new moon was only a few days ago. The beastman probably got desperate, killed someone at random, and took their liver to maintain their disguise. But the body was found before they could dispose of it.”

"Alright…” Sai said. “But, if this beastman is disguised as a normal person, how do we find them?”

Jibril was silent, a hand rested on her chin. “There are ways to force monsters disguised as humans to reveal themselves. But…” She bit her lip. “…I don’t have any of the materials needed to make them. Wolfsbane, hartshorn, silver… any of those would work, but they’re difficult to come by as it is. It would be impossible to find them here.”

“Wait, silver?” Baligant asked. “How does that even work?”

“Silver absorbs magical energy, especially the dark energies favored by beastmen and other monsters,” Jibril explained. “But, it requires direct contact to be effective. …Not that it matters, since we don’t have any silver.”

“I might,” Sai then said. He then reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small coin. It was old, its design worn down to being utterly indecipherable, but beneath the tarnish was an unmistakable silvery gleam.

“Where’d you find that?” Baligant asked.

Sai shrugged. “Sometimes, I’d dig things up when I plowed the fields back home. I found this during last year’s harvest. I thought it was nice, so I kept it.”

Jibril plucked the small coin from Sai’s hand, examining it closely. “Yes… yes, this could work. But we need to be sure this is actual silver.”

“And how do we do that?” Baligant asked.

Jibril didn’t answer. Or rather, she didn’t put her answer in words. Instead, she brought the coin close to the boy’s body. In response, thin black wisps rose from his wounds and flowed into the coin, as if drawn by some invisible force. As soon as Jibril pulled the coin away, the wisps vanished.

“So, how will this work?” Sai asked. “Do we just need to get the beastman to touch that coin?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Once it does, the magic maintaining its human guise will be broken, revealing its true form. After that… well, I hope both of you know how to fight.”

…

A new day dawned. Baligant’s heart hammered in his chest. It wasn’t as if he’d never been afraid before during a hunt- but he hadn’t been alone. And he hadn’t been hunting a monster that ate children’s organs and could wear a man’s skin like a mask.

Though they’d found their means of exposing the beastman, actually implementing it would be difficult. But the older woman- who finally introduced herself as Nila- provided a solution. She was already well-regarded amongst the townspeople, so she was able to convince them to let her perform a ceremony at the temple. A simple ritual, she promised, that would grant the protection of the gods. No one questioned her motives, or the reason for using a tarnished coin as a symbol of protection. They simply wanted peace of mind.

Now, Sai, Baligant, and Jibril stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as Nila prayed over each villager, before they touched the coin. They were observing for any hesitation or reluctance, or attempt to avoid touching the coin. Yet, no one showed any odd behavior- everyone partook in the ritual without issue. Even those who expressed misgivings complied in the end, if only to appease the older woman. Finally, only a handful of people were left- the town guards. Jibril perked up, paying much closer attention. “Beastmen have a preference for taking positions of authority when disguised,” she whispered. “It gives them easier access to victims.” She was still clad in rags, but with an addition- a large satchel stuffed with vials and herbs and strange powders. Nila had retrieved it from the guards, and after verifying everything was in its place, the apothecary had spent the entire night prior preparing… something. Neither Sai nor Baligant could make sense of Jibril’s work, and she wouldn’t explain either, saying only that they would need what she was making the next day.

One of the guards moved forward, and gave the coin a quick tap. Nothing happened. The next did the same, and again there was no change. The third tried to refuse. He clenched his fists, glaring at the coin, muttering something about not believing in superstition. But eventually, he too placed his hand upon the coin. And again, nothing happened. But the fourth was different. He stood, shaking, refusing to look at either the coin or Nila as sweat poured down his face. Then, before Nila could finish her blessing, the guard turned and made a break for the door. He was fast… but Baligant was faster- within moments, the older boy had crossed the temple and tackled the guard to the ground. “Sai, grab the coin!” he shouted, as the guard fought to escape his grasp.

Sai did as ordered, quickly snatching up the coin as Baligant struggled to restrain the guard. And the moment Sai touched the coin against the guard’s skin, it split open like rotten fruit, revealing coarse black fur beneath. Snarls echoed through the temple as the man twisted and contorted, until what lay before the three heroes was a creature with the body shaped like a man’s, but with the head and spiraling horns of a ram. The guard threw Baligant aside and made a blind sprint for the temple door, only to be intercepted by the caped guard. The beastman swung a grotesque, overly-muscled arm at the guard, but he dodged easily, before striking back with his sword and cutting a deep gouge in the beastman’s side. The beastman fell to its knees, clutching at the loops of glistening red flesh that fell from its wound, before glaring up at the caped guard. It spoke, but its words were harsh and unintelligible, black smoke rising from between its teeth. But its words were cut off when the caped guard buried his blade deep into the beastman’s neck. The creature twitched once, then collapsed to the floor.

Sheathing his blade, the caped guard then said, “And just was that supposed to be?”

“A beastman,” Sai answered. “It’s the one that killed that boy. It ate his liver so it could disguise itself as a human.”

“This doesn’t prove anything,” the caped guard said coldly. “For all we know, you could have used some evil spell to turn him into a monster.”

“You’ll find that coin holds no such enchantments,” Nila replied. “You saw others lay hands on it with no ill effect for yourself. Or do you doubt even the testimony of your own eyes?”

The caped guard scowled, but said nothing further. Instead, he ordered two of the remaining guards to remove the body, while he retrieved the coin. He rolled it through his fingers, as if testing it in some way. And once he was convinced that it held no malign influence, he held it out to Nila.

But the older woman recoiled as the small object was brought near. “Place it on the altar,” she ordered.

Something in the air between the two shifted. “You said yourself this coin holds no evil magics,” the caped guard argued. “Surely a holy woman like yourself would have nothing to fear. You could-”

“I gave you an order, now do as I say!” Nila’s entire body tensed, her eyes blazing. And the caped guard suddenly seized, his body moving unnaturally stiffly as he placed the coin on the altar.” There,” she finally said. “Was that so-”

But her words were cut off when she turned, swiping her hand at a small bottle that had been thrown at her. The bottle shattered, and at once, her skin boiled and sizzled as its contents splashed over her. She shrieked, collapsing to the ground, before shooting a deathly glare at Jibril. “You little bitch!” she snarled. “You said you didn’t have anything that could expose a monster’s true form!”

“I did,” the younger girl replied. “But I never said I didn’t have materials that could harm monsters even while disguised.” She then reached into her satchel and threw another bottle at Nila. It shattered, splashing its contents across her face, which began to burn and melt.

Sai gaped in horror. “What are you doing!?” he demanded, stepping forward.

“I knew something was wrong with this village the moment I set foot in it,” Jibril said, completely ignoring Sai’s words. “The way everyone practically worshiped the ground the priestess walked on… I’ve seen plenty of holy men in my travels, but none were as esteemed as her.”

Nila’s laughter bubbled from her charred mouth. A wing burst from her back- skeletal, covered by a skin-like membrane. “Clever. What gave it away?”

Jibril tapped under her eye. “It was the eyes. Mind alteration magic causes physiological changes in the affected over time. Persistent pupil dilation, blue spots in the whites of the eye… any skilled physician would recognize the signs.”

The old woman cackled, transforming further. Her robe crumbled, revealing scales beneath, as her arms elongated into talons, and a second wing burst from her back. “A mere child, seeing right through me. I’m impressed… but not impressed enough to spare you.”

Nila flew at Jibril. But in a matter of moments, Baligant sprinted toward her, drawing his knife and placing himself between the two. He stabbed at the creature, who howled in pain. But she slashed him in turn, her claws raking into his flesh with terrifying ease. He winced, but didn’t falter, focusing on keeping Nila from reaching Jibril. And despite her initial ferocity, the beastwoman’s strength was rapidly waning as her wounds continued to bleed out her life. Soon, she staggered, then fell to her knees. She looked up at Baligant, and growled. No, she wasn’t looking at Baligant. Her gaze was fixed on Jibril. “You’re much too clever for your own good, you little bitch,” she croaked. “That cleverness will be the end of you one day. You’ll see. You’ll see…”

With that, Nila fell silent, her body slumping to the ground. Black smoke rose from her body, as if it were being burned by invisible flames, until nothing but her clothes remained.

Cautiously, Baligant prodded Nila’s garments with his knife. But nothing happened. As he sheathed his weapon, he asked, “What just happened? Was she a beastman, too?”

“No,” Jibril replied. “She was a demon.”

“That’s impossible,” the caped guard snapped. “This temple is on consecrated ground! Demons can’t set foot in it!”

Jibril’s response was a blunt question: “Was this temple built before or after she arrived here?”

“A-After,” the caped guard admitted reluctantly. “Why does that matter?”

“Because if it was built after, then the grounds were never truly consecrated,” the apothecary replied. “Whatever ‘rite’ she performed was at best purely performative, and at worst laid the groundwork for her mind alteration magics.”

“But why would she wanna expose another monster?” Sai asked. “I thought they were all on the same side.”

“All monsters are subject to the rule of Bahamut and his Generals, but that doesn’t mean they never have conflicts among themselves,” Jibril said. She looked over at the beastman’s body. “It’s possible that Nila and that beastman were allies, but him murdering the boy threatened to expose them both. It’s also possible that neither party was even aware of the other’s existence before the murder.”

“And, who exactly is Bahamut?” Baligant asked.

“It’s a longer story than we have time for,” Jibril replied. Her gaze then turned toward the caped guard. “Now… I trust this is sufficient evidence to prove my innocence.”

The physiological symptoms of mind manipulation magic discussed by Jibril through Lescatié’s journal are indeed accurate, and are used by physicians even in the present day to diagnose patients who may be victims of such malevolent magics. However, the efficacy of the materials claimed to be capable of exposing disguised monsters is disputed. Former Praetor Darien Laurent asserted that materials such as wolfsbane and hartshorn are indeed capable of revealing and repelling monsters, but that its user must have unwavering faith in their effectiveness. Fighter’s Guild guildmaster Rygis Beladon concurs that these materials were likely effective in Alondight’s time, but hundreds of years of evolution reduced their potency to negligible levels. Furthermore, the assertion about demons being unable to enter consecrated ground is only partially accurate. According to Beladon, demons have been observed to have difficulty moving freely within such areas, but it is not an absolute barrier. They can enter if they wish to do so, and it is possible that demons may have magics capable of reducing or even outright nullifying the effects of such consecrations. Silver, however, remains a potent counter to demonic magic- so much so that many nations favor silver for minting rather than gold or copper specifically because of this property.

There is also some debate of the exact nature of the monster species encountered in Teth. Based on descriptions recorded in Lescatie's journal, academics conclude that the beastman was most likely a caprigor, a now-extinct type of beastman believed to be a relative of the baphomet…

Dragonslayer, Chapter 3: The Apothecary

“Alright…” Raine said, exasperated. “Let’s try this again. Ready, Abel?”

Abel nodded. Normally, having so many eyes on him made it hard to concentrate. But this had happened so many times that he’d gotten used to it. He focused, and his amulet responded, pointing to his right. Raine noted the direction, and put it on the map, which was now covered in an incomprehensible spider web of lines.

The others gathered around the map, to see where the amulet was directing them. Holly was the first to react. “What? South again!? We just came from there!”

Violet looked over, “Are you certain your Relic can still be relied upon? Perhaps we should bring it to a priest of Ilias to examine it.”

Abel was fairly certain the issue wasn’t the amulet itself- it pointed to cities and other landmarks without issue, seemingly only failing when attempting to find Alondight’s altars. But before he could say this, Claire replied, “Relics are forged by the gods themselves. They don’t just break. If anything goes wrong with one, it’s because the user doesn’t know how to operate it,” giving Abel a knowing look as the last sentence passed her lips.

Glaring, Abel removed the pendant and held it out toward the president. “Would you like to show me how to use it, then?”

Claire scoffed and glared to the side, folding her arms over her chest. “Asshole…”

“Alright, that’s enough! Both of you!” Raine then cut in. “We’ll just have to wait a little while and try again.”

Three weeks prior, the Princess Louvia had put to sea, heading toward the next altar Abel needed to find. Only… that wasn’t quite how things had played out. The amulet seemed to point in a different direction every time Abel used it: one day it might point to the southeast, while the next it would point in almost the complete opposite direction. Their destination could even seemingly change multiple times a day- just a few days prior, Abel had used his Relic at dawn, noon, and sunset, and each time the pendant had pointed in a different direction. Until the group could get their bearings, Captain Baird had pulled into a port on the southern shore of Ermis, named Sarhesen.

Fiann wrote in her journal. Normally, Minze would be the one to read her words aloud to the others. But Violet had begun making attempts, wanting to sharpen her proficiency in reading the bard’s native tongue. “‘Are you… certain that your…’ uh, I do not recognize that word, but I believe it means ‘Relic.’ ‘…Are you certain that your Relic can be trusted?’”

“Of course I'm sure,” Abel replied. He shifted his focus, causing the amulet to point at the alchemist, then Fiann, then at a seagull drifting lazily overhead on the wind. “It only happens when I try to find the closest of Alondight’s altars. It works fine for everything else.” He then gave the bard a stern look. “But, you know that. You saw us testing it.”

Fiann looked surprised- perhaps even slightly hurt by Abel’s words, but nodded, and shut her journal, seemingly having no rebuttal.

“But the problem isn’t with you, and it’s not the Relic, then what is it?” Seth asked. “It’s not like there’s something out there moving the altars around.”

“Actually…” a small voice on Raine’s shoulder said. “…that’s exactly what’s happening.”

All eyes fell on the voice’s source: Niel. “What do you mean, Parrot?” Raine asked.

The former angel’s attention shifted to Abel. “Abel, try to find the closest of Alondight’s altars.”

“Alright…” Abel complied, focusing, and the amulet pointed south once again. He wasn’t quite sure what Niel was trying to get at- the amulet vibrated slightly as it pulled against the chain restraining it, as it always did when-

All of a sudden, the pendant shifted, sliding over its chain, before coming to a stop. It now pointed behind Abel and slightly to the left- west, if he remembered correctly. But Abel hadn’t changed his focus. He’d impelled it to find the closest of Alondight’s altars the entire time. “I… didn’t do that,” he said.

“It’s Ilias,” Niel continued. “She’s interfering, trying to stop Abel from completing his quest.”

“She can do that?” Holly asked in shock.

“Are you telling me Ilias is picking up altars and moving them around so Abel can’t get to them?” Claire also asked, with a tone of clear disbelief.

“Technically, she’s not moving the altars themselves,” the former angel replied. “She’s forcing the other gods to change the altars they want Abel to find.”

“I… am afraid I do not understand,” Violet said.

“When Champions are chosen to slay the Overlord,” Niel explained, “eight of Alondight's altars that they are meant to find to realize their full potential are also selected. Ordinarily, the Chief God is required to delegate the task of choosing altars to other gods, in order to maintain impartiality in the contest. However, they can choose which other gods are part of the selection process, and can order these gods to change their selection, if they feel the altars would be too easy, or too difficult for a Champion to reach.”

Raine scratched her head. “So, Ilias has been pressuring these gods to change their decision, and lead Abel around in circles?”

Niel nodded. “Most likely.”

“Why do I get the feeling the other Champions aren’t getting this kind of treatment?” Seth muttered.

Holly asked, “Can’t the other gods do something?”

“The other five upper tier gods can veto Ilias’s directives, but it requires a unanimous decision,” the former angelanswered. “Although considering Ilias is making extra work for all of them, that should come around sooner rather than later.”

Abel snorted, though he didn't say anything. He was frustrated with the situation as well- perhaps more than any of the others. At least now they knew what they were dealing with. But, identifying the problem wasn't the same as fixing it. And there wasn't much to be done when it came to a god meddling in his affairs.

“Well,” Raine said. “Until the other gods decide to do something, I don’t think we'll be going anywhere any time soon. Let’s just make the most of our time here.” She looked out at the port town. “Sarhesen is a nice place. Lots of shops, plenty of entertainment. A good chance to stretch our legs a bit, maybe invest in some new equipment. We might even hear some news about the other Champions.”

With that, the group disembarked and entered Sarhesen proper. The city may not have been as large as Lohan, but it was a bustling port in its own right- houses and shops lined the streets, merchants hawked their wares, and people chatted among themselves. As far as places to end up stranded went, there certainly were worse options. And best of all, it seemed the Church had little presence here. For a little while at least, they wouldn't have to worry about the Cardinal’s assassins finding their trail.

Near the harbor was a market, with stalls selling food, drink, clothing, armor, and countless other items, the smell of various spices and cooking meat wafting through the air. The group went their separate ways, each pulled by the allure of a different stall: Violet and Minze looked at alchemical reagents, while Lailah combed through an assortment of leather packs. Holly inspected a number of shields, Seth made her way to a fletcher, and Claire skipped the merchandise entirely, instead chatting with every attractive merchant girl she laid eyes on. Raine had simply disappeared without saying where she was going, bringing Niel with her- presumably, she went out to gather information, leaving only Abel and Fiann behind. Looking toward the bard, he asked, “Well, is there anything you need?”

Fiann thought for a moment. [I don’t need anything] she wrote. [But I think you might.] The bard's eyes then fell on his sword.

Abel gripped his sword, lifting it up to give it a close look- the leather wrapping around the scabbard was cracked and frayed, still blackened in places- scars from the fire that burned down Violet's manor. when he drew it slightly, he saw that the blade was rusted, and chipped in spots. He’d bought it in Aglis, shortly after his previous one was destroyed in the fight against Zoyin. It had served him well enough since then, but its condition had clearly deteriorated- it was probably only a few hard blows away from breaking entirely. Abel was honestly surprised it was still intact.

[I can help you find a replacement,] Fiann wrote. [And I can teach you how to maintain it.]

“Maintain?” Abel asked.

[My old mentor once told me that a weapon and a horse have much in common- both have to be kept in good health if you expect them to serve you well.] There was a small smile on Fiann’s lips, as if she were recalling a happy memory. [And a sword needs a lot of care to stay healthy. Polishing, sharpening, oiling… and that’s just for the blade. The hilt and the scabbard need to be cared for as well.]

Abel had never really thought about that, but he supposed Fiann was right. She was an almost unmatched warrior, and much of the time she spent outside of battle was focused on inspecting and repairing her axe. In this case, he felt confident he could trust her judgement. “Alright,” he said. “Lead the way.”

With that, the two set off towards a blacksmith, leaving the other members of the group to their business. After some deliberation, and a few recommendations from Fiann, Abel made his choice: a longsword with a steel blade, sturdy and simple, with a wooden scabbard wrapped in leather. Though not as long as Minze’s, his new weapon was a fair bit longer than his old one- the blade alone was about as long as his arm fully extended, whereas the old sword’s blade was only slightly longer than the distance between his fingertips and his elbow. It was heavier, too- it would take some getting used to, but Abel found the weight reassuring. With that done, Fiann then took Abel to a stall that offered supplies for maintaining weapons, and taught him everything she knew about caring for his sword, from sharpening all the way to how to replace the clasps that held the scabbard to his belt. By the time they were finished, Abel was confident he could take the entire sword and scabbard apart and reassemble them with little difficulty.

It was already evening by the time the two made it back to the ship, and by then, everyone else had already returned. Only Raine was waiting to greet them, Niel perched on her shoulder. “Well there you two are,” the witch said with a grin. “Did you two have fun?”

“What are you talking about?” Abel asked.

She tilted her head, her smile broadening. “Oh, I think you know. A man and a woman spending time alone with only each other for company…”

Abel understood well enough now what Raine was trying to do. “Nothing happened. Fiann helped me find a new sword and taught me how to take care of it.” He gripped his new blade for emphasis.

The witch made an exaggerated shocked face, her hands on her cheeks. “Blue, you can’t just go around telling people that a lady taught you how to polish your sword! It’s indecent!”

Before Abel could question what exactly he’d said that was indecent, Niel reached up, giving a firm tug on Raine’s ear. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. They’re both back now, so let’s get to business.”

Raine rolled her eyes, mumbling, “Couldn’t you’ve let me have fun for a little longer?” before joining the others on board. As they gathered, Abel couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air, despite Raine's joke. After all, the only reason this expedition had been possible was because they were at the mercy of the gods and their capriciousness. And though they had some breathing room here in Sarhesen, the respite would not last.

Lailah was the first to break the silence. “So did anyone learn anything useful?”

Raine stepped forward. “I heard a few pieces here and there. Apparently the Prince is still in Mavors. That Champion Abel ran into in Hesperis- Cavall? He was headed west. And one of the Champions has been wandering around northern Windurst, though I’m not sure which one. Supposedly, it’s a skinny guy being followed around by a bunch of girls- I think they think that it’s you, Blue.”

“Well, there’s one half…” Abel began. “But what about the others? What about Xiao? Or Theodore? Or Thelas and Lavian?”

The witch shook her head. “If I’d heard anything about them, I would’ve said something, Blue.” Abel found that a bit hard to believe, especially about Lavian- a giant flying suit of armor seemed like something that would leave a lasting impression wherever it went. She added, “Personally, I’m kinda impressed you still remember their names.”

“Should we have Abel attempt to find the next altar again?” Violet suggested. “Something may have changed from this morning.”

“Let's not raise our hopes too much, My Lady,” Minze replied.

“It can’t hurt to try, though," Seth stated. “It’s not like it takes very long.”

Abel nodded. “Alright, let’s give it another shot.” He focused. As he expected, the amulet was now pointing in a different direction than before- east.

But the next morning, when Abel tried again to find the nearest of Alondight’s altars, the amulet again pointed to the east. And it continued to point east the day after that. It was difficult to say that the pendant pointed in the exact same direction each time, but at long last, it was consistent. At least now, they had a general idea of where to go.

Five days after arriving, the Princess Louvia left Sarhesen, hugging the Bastokan coast as it sailed across the Arielian, guided by Abel’s amulet. The amulet never wavered as it pointed unerringly to its chosen target, and spirits were high when the ship anchored in Fueno. After a short respite, the Louvia sailed further east, stopping in various smaller ports along the way. And all the while, the amulet continued to point east. It was only after two weeks, and after passing Aglis, that concerns began to be raised. The ship was rapidly nearing the eastern edge of the continent, but the pendant showed no deviation from its current course. And wherever the pendant was pointing lay beyond the edge of Abel’s map. Unless something changed, they would eventually have to stop- the Princess Louvia was not built to cross the open sea, nor could it carry the supplies necessary for such a journey.

But they sailed on, staying near the coast, stopping periodically for supplies. But eventually, the coast turned sharply to the north, and all that remained ahead of the ship was the vast expanse of the Titanian Ocean. Abel’s pendant ignored the contours of the land, still pointing straight east. And for the first time since Abel’s amulet gave them a steady direction, they defied its guidance, continuing instead to follow the shoreline. When Abel asked Captain Baird where the ship was headed now, the older man replied gruffly, “Furni. The capital of Faetón. The city at the end of the world… or at least the last one with anything worth a damn. Beyond it, there's nothing but saltwater and wind.”

Faetón… that was where Sion was originally from. Perhaps they would run into her again there. But, Raine gently discouraged him from getting his hopes up. Faetón, she explained, was made up of a chain of four islands: Sylvia, Themis, Aurora, and Eunomia. The Gaspari Kingdom- of which Sion was the princess- was on the island of Eunomia in the far north, while Furni was further south, constructed on an island off the eastern coast of Themis. “She’s halfway across the kingdom from where we’re going, Blue," the witch told him. “She wouldn’t have any reason to come down here.”

Three days later- and twenty-two total since leaving Sarhesen- the Princess Louvia docked at Furni. It was a very striking place, unlike any they had visited thus far, and not simply because the whole city was built on an island. Or rather, built into it- seemingly the entirety of Furni was carved into the stony exterior of the island itself. Buildings stood like fortresses, made of the same stone as the ground they rose from, separated by gaps so narrow that it seemed impossible anyone could squeeze through them, great bridges and staircases spanning the chasms that separated them. But the city wasn’t as uninviting as a glance at a distance might have suggested; the buildings were draped in banners of various colors, and flags flew from seemingly every place where there was both the space to accommodate them and the wind to let them fly freely. Something that Raine seemed to find unusual. “That’s odd…” she said, looking up at the banners as the Princess Louvia slowly glided over the harbor’s waters.

“What is?” Seth asked.

The witch pointed to one of the banners- a green flag, showing a white bird holding a sword in its beak. “That’s the flag of the Gaspari Kingdom. And that one next to it…” Raine pointed to another banner, this one red with a horizontal white stripe in the center, overlaid with a golden hand. “That’s the standard for Duke Flammarion. His family rules half of Sylvia. And that one-!” She pointed to yet another flag, white and adorned with a blue sun surrounded by rays. “That’s the flag for House Watson of Aurora. You wouldn't normally see all of them together unless there's some kind of major diplomatic meeting.”

“I wonder if something happened…” Holly said, touching her chin. “Let’s ask around after we dock.”

As Abel looked up at the banners, a thought occurred to him. It seemed important people from around Faetón had gathered here… which meant it was possible that Sion was here as well. Though he knew that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, his heart swelled at the thought. Though he’d said his farewells, Sion’s departure had been so sudden that it didn’t feel like a proper goodbye. Perhaps seeing her again would help alleviate the lingering regrets.

When the Princess Louvia finally docked, the crew disembarked, eager to stretch their legs after nearly a month aboard the ship. But strangely, though it was the middle of the day, the “streets,” as they were, were almost completely empty. There were no merchants selling wares, no beggars asking for coin, no children playing, no one out and about- just a few guards patrolling. When they asked one of the guards what was going on, he replied, “The Gaspari Kingdom’s queen and her entourage arrived today. Everyone's gathering to see them. I don't see what the big deal is, though. I’ve met elves before- they’re not all that special.”

Queen? Abel thought, but before he could say anything, Raine took the lead. “Let’s go see their procession, then. It’s not like we’ll be able to do much else until it’s over. Come on, everyone.”

It didn’t take much searching to find where the parade was supposed to make its way through the city. Throngs of people gathered in and around several plazas, all looking northward. The group found a spot among the crowd and waited. Soon enough, there was a burst of cheers and shouts as the procession came into view. It was led by a column of soldiers marching in formation, clad in green and carrying long spears. Some members of the crowd chattered excitedly about seeing elves with their own eyes- though just at a glance, there was little to differentiate the elven soldiers from the surrounding crowd aside from their weapons and uniforms. Even their pointed ears hardly stood out. Behind the soldiers followed a man clad in a green uniform with silver trim, sitting astride a black horse. He was unarmed, but his bearing alone commanded respect. Behind him was something that looked like a carriage, but rather than being pulled by horses, it was set on two poles, and carried on the shoulders of twelve very strong-looking men. The carriage was covered, curtains drawn over the windows. A ripple of disappointment went up among the crowd- one of the people near Abel's group even grumbled, “The Queen’s here and we don’t even get to see her?” But all at once, the carriage door flew open, and a figure climbed out. They immediately weaved through the crowd, before leaping towards Abel with their arms outstretched. “Eibo!”

Abel caught the stranger- a girl around his age. At a distance, he didn't recognize her at all, and even up close, it took several moments for Abel to recognize who had leapt into his arms. “…Sion?”

The elf girl looked much different from when he’d last seen her. Her hair was cut much shorter now, and much straighter, with only the tips still colored a pale gold- the remainder was a deep, dark black. Her skin was lighter now than he remembered, and she wasn't quite as thin as he remembered either. And of course, her clothes were different as well- the worn rags were now replaced by a green dress, the exact shade seeming to shift slightly with her every movement. But the girl clinging to him was unmistakably Sion.

But anything the two had to say to each other was stymied when the soldiers approached, spears at the ready. The man on the horse drew close, glaring down fiercely at Abel. “Koevu vor suchir xa zu flechbaru. Udilu.” Remove your hands from the princess. Now.

But Sion simply clung to Abel more tightly. “No, don’t… hurt him. This is… Eibo. The human… who saved me.”

The elf commander's glare didn't abate in the slightest. He was gaunt, with sharp eyes and brown hair that reached his shoulders. "Is he now?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, clearly skeptical. He began to reach for something at his belt…

…when a cool, gentle voice cut through the crowd. “Stand down, Obsianos.”

Obsianos hesitated, clearly conflicted, but he did so. Abel looked to see that another figure had emerged from the carriage. A woman, tall and slender with long, black hair that seemed to flow down her back like a waterfall of ink. She wore a gown the same color as her hair, trimmed in gold, and adorned with precious stones. Her features were elegant, but stern as she surveyed the scene with an air of authority and confidence. As if she alone knew exactly what was happening and precisely how things should unfold.

The woman- the Queen- approached, striding past her guards, the sternness in her face melting away as she looked down at Abel. As he looked at her, he was struck by how tall she was. Her eyes were a deep emerald green, matching the color of the Gaspari Kingdom's banner. “You must be Sir Abel. My daughter Agate has told me quite a lot about you.”

“S-She did?” Abel stammered, unsure whether to be pleased or worried. But something stuck out. Agate? Wasn’t her name Sion?

The queen smiled. “I assure you, she had nothing but good things to say about you. You have my thanks, Champion. And the thanks of the whole Gaspari Kingdom.” She extended a hand to him.

But before Abel could take it, the elf-man on horseback spoke up. “My Queen, need I remind you that we have our own affairs to attend to? We don't have time to waste engaging in idle pleasantries with a common human.”

The Queen's smile faded as her gaze turned to the elf commander. “I believe I have the right to extend my gratitude to the man who helped to return my daughter to me, Obsianos. But if you’re going to be difficult… Azeviche!”

Yet another figure emerged from the carriage- a very nervous looking maid. “Y-Yes, My Queen?” she stammered.

“Please write a letter inviting Sir Abel to our apartments on my behalf. I would speak further with him.”

The maid bowed, and retreated into the carriage, presumably to fulfill her master’s request.

The commander grunted, but made no further objections. The Queen looked back at Abel. “Agate, come along. We mustn’t keep our hosts waiting any longer.” She reached out a hand to Sion, who reluctantly let go of Abel. As she returned to the Queen’s side, the maid also joined her, clutching a rolled parchment sealed with wax. She handed the letter to Abel, backing away quickly and fearfully. Abel looked it over, seeing an image pressed in the wax- the same bird carrying a sword in its beak that adorned their banner. “I trust you will not keep us waiting,” the Queen said. And with that, she returned to her carriage, and the procession continued on.

Abel could only stare, alternating between the rolled-up parchment and the carriage. “What… what just happened?” he muttered.

“That was… Queen Citryn,” Claire said. Her face was flushed- it seemed she was just as starstruck as Abel. Perhaps even moreso.

Raine nodded. "The queen of the Gaspari Kingdom. And one of the continent's four Queens of Beauty." She glanced Abel's way, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And she just invited you to her chambers, Blue."

“Queens of Beauty?” Seth asked, scratching her head.

“Oh, I’ve heard of them!” Holly said, perking up. “My- …nation’s ruler is one of them.”

“Every year, Temples of Eros across the continent compile a list of women said to be the most beautiful in the entire world,” Raine explained. “For the last few years, the top spots have been held either by royalty, or other high-ranking nobles. Hence the nickname ‘Queens of Beauty.’ I think Queen Citryn was ranked third in the most recent poll. Not bad.”

But Abel hardly heard the witch’s explanation, his attention focused solely on the parchment in his hands. A queen… Liz had told him that Sion was a princess, but for some reason, he hadn’t put together that Sion being a princess meant her mother would be a queen. And now that queen wanted to meet with him. It was all too surreal.

“You are gonna accept the queen’s invitation, aren’t you, Blue?” Raine asked.

Abel hesitated. Declining the queen’s invitation… it didn’t sound like something he could do without facing dire consequences. But, he’d never met a king or queen before. He had no idea what to expect. Should he bring her a gift? Would he need to buy new clothes? What would they talk about? He didn’t even know the proper way to address her.

“Blue?” Raine nudged him.

“I… guess?” Abel answered uncertainly, already feeling anxious.

“And what kind of weak reply is that, degenerate!?” Claire suddenly cut in. “Most commoners never even see their king in the flesh! And even most nobles don’t get the chance to have a private audience with their liege lord! People would literally kill to be in the position you’re in right now.” The way the president was eyeing him, Abel suspected that she could be counted among those people.

“You should go,” Seth said. “For saving her daughter, the queen would probably give you anything you ask for. We could use that to our advantage.”

Abel’s brow furrowed. “How would we do that?”

Seth tilted her head, expression a mix between disbelief and irritation. “Do I really need to spell it out for you, Abel? Right now, we need a boat that can cross the Titanian Ocean. And you’ve been invited to meet with a very influential person who has the means to get us that boat. …is it starting to make sense now?”

Abel did understand. He did now, at least. But as Abel looked down at the parchment in his hand, he couldn’t help but feel a cold sweat break out… well, everywhere. Was he really capable of doing this? This wasn’t some monster to fight, or some puzzle to solve. He was going to be meeting a literal queen. And as recent experience demonstrated, his interpersonal skills were far from exemplary.

Raine sighed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Abel. You’ve got this. The queen already likes you, so the hard part’s out of the way. Just stay calm, be respectful… and don't mess this up or else we’ll all be really mad at you.”

“Really? That was your best attempt at motivating him?” a scratchy voice asked. It was Niel, emerging from the breast pocket of Raine's jacket. After almost falling off the witch's shoulder one time too many (and actually falling once), she demanded to be moved somewhere safer. “Give me to him,” the former angel then demanded. “I’ll help him.”

“Parrot, you can’t keep coddling Blue like this,” Raine replied sternly. “And you don’t even have the excuse of being able to hide in his head and give him instructions anymore. How is he supposed to grow as a Hero if you always swoop in to save him?”

Niel scoffed. “This is too important for Abel to be left to his own devices.”

A new voice cut in, cold and stern, at odds with the normally kind and gentle tone he was familiar with. “And how many more things are going to be ‘too important’ for Abel to do on his own?” Lailah asked.

The former angel glared at the priestess, gritting her teeth. But if she had a response, she decided against voicing it.

"Well…" the priestess then said, gaze shifting to Abel. "Off you go. You shouldn't keep the queen waiting."

"But what about-" he began.

"We'll find an inn to stay at," Raine replied. "Don't worry about us. Now go."

Using his amulet to guide him, Abel made his way across Furni. There weren't many buildings in the capital tall enough to obscure the palace's presence. Its white stone towered above the rest like a lighthouse, clearly visible from nearly every corner of the city. And when he finally reached the outer of the walls surrounding the palace, he had to lean very far back to see the top. It reminded him of his visit to the Pioneer’s Cathedral in Lohan- and just like back then, the palace towered so far above him that it looked as if the sky itself were balanced on its roof.

The guards at the gate were clad differently from the guards in the city, wearing tunics of red and gold stripes. The gates were open, allowing a chain of carts to pass one at a time, but as Abel approached, a number of the guards moved to bar his path. “The palace is closed to the public,” one of them said gruffly. “If you're here to deliver supplies or a message, the end of the queue is where you should be heading.”

"Uh, I… have an invitation," Abel replied feebly, offering the rolled parchment.

The gruff guard took the parchment, breaking the seal and reading its contents. But then, with a sneer, he gripped the parchment and tore it into pieces. “Do you think I don’t know a forgery when I see one?” he growled. “What business could Her Majesty possibly have with some brown cuelo like you? Now move along.”

Abel took a step forward. “But-”

In an instant, the guard tore a truncheon hanging from his belt free and pressed the tip against Abel's chest. “The only thing you’ll be getting here is a beating and a night in the jails! Now piss off!”

The other guards drew clubs from their belts as well. Abel immediately began backing away, keeping his hands raised to show he had no intent to fight. As much as he would have liked to stand up for himself, fighting the guards outside a royal palace wouldn’t end well for him, even if he was in the right. And just flying over the palace wall probably wouldn’t do him any favors. He turned, and began to leave. As he did, the gruff guard called out, “That’s right, walk away! Know your place, cuelo! You and your kind aren't welcome, and you're not wanted!”

Anger welled in Abel’s heart… but he pushed it down, before it led him to do something he’d regret. Those men… were acting to protect not just their own king, but also the kings of other nations as well. What they said and did might not have been right, but at the end of the day, they had a duty to uphold; and it would be better to err on the side of caution than to risk the safety of their charges. But at the same time, the Queen was expecting him. And her letter had been the only way he could meet her. What was he supposed to do now?

With a heavy sigh, Abel kept walking until he found a quiet alleyway where he could hide and collect himself, and figure out what to do next. Confronting the guards or trying to sneak into the palace were off the table, so what else was there? Tell the others? They would probably question why he hadn't stood his ground, even if it did get him arrested. But they didn’t understand. Trying to fight against men like that never ended well for him- it was a lesson he’d had to learn the hard way in Seles several times, and things wouldn’t change no matter how far away from his village his travels took him. He could lie about meeting the queen- he could say that she had declined the request for a ship able to cross the ocean. Even if she was a queen, and even if he’d found her missing daughter, that didn’t necessarily mean she would reward him for it. Or that she even could give him what he asked for. It was a gamble, but… it was the only thing he could think of that might work. All he had to do now was stall for time. An hour? That would probably be enough. He could have a look around the city in the meantime, maybe even learn more about Faetón…

Yeah… yeah, this could work. Feeling slightly better, Abel left the alleyway, taking a deep breath before rejoining the streets. He kept his eyes open, looking for any interesting sights… and for his friends- his plans would be immediately foiled if anyone he knew spotted him wandering around town when he was supposed to be visiting the queen.

As he walked, however, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Like someone was watching him. Was it just paranoia after the encounter with the palace guards? Or was there truly someone tailing him? And at that moment, a hand grasped his shoulder, and a woman's voice, both firm and gentle in his ear, said, “Lord Abel. I’ve been looking for you.”

Abel turned to face whoever had stopped him. And his heart almost leapt out of his chest. For a brief, terrifying instant, he thought he was face-to-face with Master Rachel, having finally come to reclaim him at long last. But the moment faded. It wasn’t his old master. Just an uncanny doppelganger. “…Commander Brell?” he managed to ask.

Shirley Brell gave a small smile in return. “It seems you faced quite the ordeal after leaving Fueno. Defeating a member of the Black Hand, penetrating the interior of Windurst and not only surviving to tell the tale, but bringing back a princess thought to be lost… You’re certainly making a name for yourself, Lord Abel.”

“I… guess I am.” The shock and the fear he felt from laying eyes on the commander was rapidly dissipating. “But, did you say you were looking for me?”

She nodded. “I did. I understand Queen Citryn invited you to visit her at the palace. But with the increased security there, she thought it might be prudent to send someone to escort you.”

Hearing that came as a relief… but that relief was quickly dashed when he remembered his situation. “…The guard at the gate thought her invitation was fake and tore it up.”

Shirley’s expression darkened, though she remained calm. “…I see. However, I doubt this guard will raise any objections if I were to escort you myself.” She turned back toward the palace, looking back over her shoulder toward Abel. “Allow me to lead the way.”

He followed her. He was grateful for her help, but here being here… “Commander…” he began. “Why are you here? Are the rest of the Wyverns with you?”

“Yes,” Shirley confirmed. “We’re here on an assignment. We’ll be working with the castle’s garrison to provide security for the upcoming Union Day ball.”

“Ball?” He’d heard the term before- in the stories Leah told to Mordecai- but he always thought they were things that only happened in stories. “Those are real?”

“Indeed,” she said. "Every year, the Lord Protector of Faetón hosts a ball celebrating Union Day- the day the different kingdoms of the islands were united under a single treaty. Though in light of recent events, the ball will also be celebrating the safe return of Princess Agate.”

There it was again. Agate. “Why do people keep calling her that? She told me her name was Sion.”

Shirley abruptly stopped, giving Abel a strange look- she seemed almost… offended. But it only lasted a moment before she regained her composure. “…I suppose I can’t be too upset. There’s no way you would've known.”

"Known what?"

“Names hold great significance among the Gaspari elves- they believe that to know a person’s true name is to hold power over them. To protect themselves from dark magics, they developed a tradition of bearing two names. One is the name they use in public, the chiscla xa arboxi- the shield-name. The other they use only in the company of family, or others they trust: the chiscla xa ruchjla- the blood-name. Using a Gaspari elf’s blood-name in the company of strangers is considered a grave offense.”

Abel and Shirley reached the palace gate. The guard who’d turned Abel away was still posted- he reached for his truncheon as soon as his eyes fell on the younger man, but quickly stopped when he saw the Commander at his side. He stood aside when she requested to pass, though from his expression, he clearly wasn't happy to do so.

As they entered the palace, Abel couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. He thought Vargo's villa was opulent, but this was on an entirely different level. The only thing that came close was the Mage's Guild headquarters. Did… people really live here?

As they snaked their way through the palace, Shirley continued from where she left off. “Princess Agate was abducted when she was just six years old, the very year when she would have been given a shield-name. She gave you her blood-name because she had no other name by which to call herself.” She then looked back at him again with a serious expression. “Remember, Lord Abel- the princess's name is Agate now. Even if you returned her home safely, you wouldn't want to destroy the goodwill you've built with the queen by carelessly using her blood-name.”

Abel nodded. "Understood."

The two eventually came to a stop at a set of doors in one of the palace's labyrinthine passageways. Shirley knocked on the thick, dark wooden doors, and they swung inward, to reveal the brown-haired elf commander from before. Obsianos, if Abel recalled correctly. "I see you've brought the queen's guest," he said bluntly. His tone was the same low, dangerous rumble he'd used when they'd first met. Even so, he stepped aside to allow Abel to pass. “Her Majesty’s time is a precious resource," he said. "I would ask that you not waste it."

"My quarters are three doors further down, on the opposite side of the hall," Shirley then said. "I have some things to discuss with the palace guard, but once you're finished, you can wait for me there. I'll escort you out." With that, the commander departed, returning the way she came, leaving Abel alone with Obsianos.

"Well?" the elf-man asked him. "Did I not just say Her Majesty's time was a precious resource?"

Abel quickly stepped inside without saying a word. The room beyond was surprisingly sparse, making the already large room seem even larger. What furniture was there was finely built, however- two couches set across from one another, a dark wooden table set between them, and a few chairs scattered around the edges of the room. And of course, sitting upon the couch facing the door was Queen Citryn herself. "Sir Abel," she said, rising to greet him. "Thank you for coming."

"No problem… he said cautiously, before quickly adding, “…Y-Your Majesty," and seated himself on the couch across from Citryn.

The queen gave him a small smile. “Please, you may call me Citryn here."

"Alright… Miss Citryn." Abel added the 'Miss' of his own volition- it didn't seem right to address her without some form of title. “Is there… some reason you wanted to meet me?"

"There is." The answer came not from Citryn, but Obsianos. He circled around to stand behind Citryn. “The princess. How did you find her?"

Abel began nervously, “Well, it was an accident, really. We found her when we traveled to Ulara."

"You just… stumbled upon her?" the elf commander asked, incredulous. “By pure chance?”

“Yes… Abel replied, feeling a bit insulted by the man’s tone. “It's not like we went there looking for her.”

"Obsianus," Citryn then said sternly. "Sir Abel's story aligns with the report given by the representative of the Amorenya Trade Guild. There's no need to interrogate him so harshly.”

“You may be willing to accept this,” Obsianos began, “but I will not. Do you truly expect me to believe this… boy, found our princess by sheer happenstance?”

“Facts cannot be changed simply by refusing to believe them, Obsianos,” Citryn responded coolly. “But tell us more about your journey, Abel.”

Abel did so, describing everything that happened from when they initially set sail to Ulara, to when they returned to Lohan. The entire time, Obsianos stood behind Citryn, glaring at him, his rage building more and more, until finally…

“I’ve heard enough!” he roared. He stepped forward, towering over Abel. “Do you truly expect me to stand here and entertain these lies!? That you, by chance, did in mere months what a company of trained knights failed to for a quarter-century!? No. The only way you could have found her is if you were in league with those who took her in the first place! Now I'm going to ask, and you are going to answer truthfully: how did you find Princess Agate?”

Citryn rose to her feet and reached out, gripping Obsianos's shoulder tightly. “Enough, Obsianos! I will not permit you to speak ill of the man who saved my daughter!”

The elf commander looked back at her, rage burning in his eyes- his anger didn't abate even slightly when he saw the queen glaring back at him. Instead, it seemed to fuel him further. “You would trust this… this baseborn inferior's word alone? Above the-”

Citryn countered, her voice shaking with fury. “If ‘this baseborn inferior,’ as you call him, truly were in league with those who abducted her, why would he return Agate to us, unspoiled, without demanding so much as a single coin in exchange?”

Obsianos opened his mouth to reply, but Citryn cut him off. “You may not trust Sir Abel, but I trust my daughter’s wellbeing. I will not hear any more baseless accusations.”

“But My-”

“Stay your tongue, Obsianos. Else I will relieve you of it.”

Obsianos gave Citryn a fierce glare. But in the end, he turned and stormed out of the room, holding his tongue.

Once he was gone, Citryn returned her attention to Abel. “I pray you will forgive Obsianos,” she said. “He personally led the knights that have searched for Princess Agate for the past twenty-five years. To find himself upstaged by a foreigner, and a human at that…” She sighed. “Despite being one of my most trusted advisors, he can be somewhat… rigid, in his thinking. I am sorry if he caused you offense.”

“It’s… fine,” Abel replied cautiously. But then he recalled something the queen had just said. “Wait. Obsianos has been searching for Si- Agate for twenty-five years. Commander Brell told me she was kidnapped when she was six.”

Citryn nodded. “That is correct. Agate will be turning thirty-one toward the end of this year.”

Thirty-one!? Abel blanched internally. Sion was almost twice as old as he was! He would never have even guessed. But then, stories did say that elves lived much longer than humans did. And that they maintained an ethereal beauty throughout their whole lives. But that also meant that she'd been living in Ulara, alone, for twenty-five years. “How… has she been? Since she came back?” he asked.

A shadow briefly passed over Citryn's face. “Things were… difficult, initially. But she’s adjusting. Progress has been slow, but there is progress. It's a relief to have her home at last.”

Abel felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was better than he'd feared. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said faintly. A moment passed, before he began, “Miss Citryn-”

"Sir Abel," the queen then said, cutting him off. "If you would indulge me, there is a favor I would like to ask you."

Cautiously, Abel asked in turn, “What is it?”

“Would you attend the Union Day ball? It seems only fitting that the man who saved my daughter should receive an invitation, and the Lord Protector agrees.”

Abel hesitated. To go from thinking balls were mere fiction to suddenly being invited to one within the same day was quite the leap. But he supposed he couldn't refuse the queen. “I… won't have to make a speech or anything, will I?”

Citryn chuckled. “Of course not. Your presence would be enough. And I’m certain Agate would appreciate your company.”

Being able to see Sion again certainly made the queen's offer more enticing… but what would he say to the others? Actually… “Miss Citryn, what about my friends? Would they be able to come, too? I wouldn’t want to go by myself.”

The queen spent a moment in deep thought, her smile fading. “I’m certain the Lord Protector could be convinced to allow one person to accompany you, but no more than that.”

Just one person. It was a bit unfair- after all, he hadn’t gone to Ulara alone. But that was something they could decide on after talking to the others. “Was there… anything else, Miss Citryn?”

She shook her head. “Only that the ball will be in two days’ time. I do hope to see you there, Sir Abel.”

With a final nod, Abel bowed before leaving Citryn's apartments. Outside, Obsianos was nowhere in sight, which came as some relief- he had fully expected the elf commander to confront him now that the queen wasn’t there to intervene. Now, he just needed to find Commander Brell. She’d said her quarters were three doors down and on the opposite side of the hall. Finding them, he knocked. “Commander Brell?”

“Lord Abel,” a muffled voice inside the room replied. “I take it you’re done meeting the queen. Please, come in.” Abel complied, pushing open the door.

Shirley Brell stood by the foot of the bed at the centerline of the room, removing one of her socks. It was the only piece of actual clothing she had left, her modesty preserved only by a white towel wrapped around her body. Abel hurriedly averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I-Is… now a bad time?” he stammered, partly stepping out of the room.

“Not at all. I was hoping to take a short bath before you returned, but I can escort you when I’m finished. Unless you would like to see yourself out.” Her tone suggested she took no issue with Abel seeing her in such a state. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that. She then looked towards him, clearly irritated. “Well, are you going to come in, or remain outside?”

“Oh! Uh, sorry…” Abel stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, trying to find something in the room to look at aside from Shirley. But, there was something he couldn't help but notice about her. Especially after looking directly at him. “…You wear glasses?”

“I don’t typically wear them if I expect to be in battle, but yes.” She looked his way again. Abel was struck by how different the commander seemed while wearing them. They were barely noticeable, made from thin black wire, but she was like a completely different person while wearing them. She seemed… less angry, her features softer. "Fortunately, my vision’s passable without them.” She then took off her glasses and set them on the bed. Without them, her face scrunched slightly into her familiar scowl.

She crossed the room, stepping through a door and shutting it behind her. “So, what did the queen want with you?” she asked, voice muffled again.

“She wanted to hear how I found the princess. Her bodyguard seems to think I had some connection to the people who kidnapped her.” Abel paused. “And she invited me to the Union Day ball. I can take one of the others with me, but just one.”

“I see. That’s-” Shirley abruptly stopped. Then, a shriek sounded from the other room and the door was battered open.

“Shirley what’s oh my god!” Shirley rushed back into the bedroom, doing absolutely nothing to preserve her modesty as she hid herself behind Abel. She said… something to him, her words rendered completely incoherent from a mix of stammering and screams as she pushed Abel toward the bath door.

“What the hell are you-” he began, before being forced into the small bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him. He stumbled before catching himself, and looked around. The bath was mostly empty, the walls and floor covered with tiles, with only a small window, a basin, and a large tub for furnishings. Next to the tub, Shirley’s towel rested on the floor. It seemed she was about to climb in when she suddenly rushed out of the bath. Cautiously, he peered into the tub.

A spider crawled along the inside of the bathtub. It wasn’t a giant spider, like the ones they’d fought in the jungle surrounding Ulara. It wasn’t even big for a normal spider- from end to end it was only about the size of a fingernail. It scuttled around the bottom of the tub, slipping when it tried to climb the sides, the walls seemingly too slick for it to find any footing.

Abel couldn’t say that he had any fondness for spiders. But, it wasn’t like it was a monster. It hadn’t done anything. So, he lowered his hand into the tub, resting it against the bottom. “Come on. I’ll get you out of there.” He had no idea if the spider would understand his words, but after a moment, it moved toward his hand, and climbed onto his palm. He shuddered from the strange, fluttery sensation as its legs skittered over his skin, and turned to the window, placing his hand on the sill. The spider immediately climbed out of his palm, and scuttled out the window.

There was a small creak as the bath door was pushed open. “I-I… Is it gone?” Shirley stammered. The timidity in her voice caught Abel off guard; he’d never heard her sound so unsure before.

Abel nodded, not looking back. “…yeah.”

The door creaked open, and Abel heard footsteps and a rustling of fabric as Shirley retrieved her towel. "I'm… sorry you had to see that." She said, and Abel finally dared to look at her. She had just finished wrapping her towel around herself, her face bright red.

Abel took the chance to step out of the bath. “I have to admit, I’m surprised. You never seemed like the type to be afraid of anything.”

“I… I hate spiders,” she spat, her voice once again muffled by the door. “It’s… their legs. All of them moving around all at once is just… Can you… not tell anyone about this? I get enough of that from Julia as it is.”

“I won’t.” Telling people he had been in a woman’s room while she was bathing wouldn’t exactly reflect well on him, either.

The silence that settled in the room as Abel waited for Shirley to finish bathing was a long, and awkward one.

Far away from Shirley’s quarters, Obsianos strode through the passageways of the palace. As he passed by a window, he heard the sound that most would have given little heed to: the cawing of a raven. He stopped, turning to look toward the sound. But there was no raven sitting at the window. Instead, there was a vague outline, like the haze of a hot day, clinging to the window’s edge. The elf commander recognized the shimmer of air- an invisibility spell.

“Brother,” the shimmering outline said, its voice smooth but unmistakably male. “The flock has been gathered as requested. We await your command.”

Obsianos faced forward. His orders were direct. “We strike at the ball. Move when the king begins his address. Spare no one.”

There was no reply. And when Obsianos glanced at the window, the shimmering outline was gone.

When Abel left the palace, he found the others at an inn named the Last Light, not far from the docks. It was a tiny, filthy place, squashed between two larger buildings, reeking of stale beer and stale sweat. Inside, there was a scattering of battered tables and a counter where a stooped man with a lazy eye served drinks. There weren't even separate rooms for guests- the beds were lined up against the walls, and they weren't even beds, just wooden pallets with mattresses of straw laid over them. It could be worse, Abel supposed. At least they’d actually found a place.

“Took you long enough, Blue,” Raine said as he approached. “So, how'd it go?”

“Fine.” Abel replied absently.

The witch looked at him expectantly. “And…?”

Abel looked back at her, confused. “And what?”

“The boat, you f*cking imbecile!” Claire then snapped. “You were supposed to ask the queen for a boat that can cross the ocean!”

That’s right. In the face of Obsianos’s interrogation, he'd completely forgotten to ask. Not that asking for a reward while the elf commander was present would have been a good idea anyway. “Uh… I didn’t really get a chance to ask. But-!” he then said. “We might get another chance.”

“And why's that?” she growled.

“The queen invited me to the Union Day ball. It’s some holiday to celebrate the founding of Faetón. Maybe I can ask the queen there.” After a moment, Abel added, “And, I can bring one of you guys with me. Just one, though.”

A moment of silence settled. Then, Abel was instantly set upon by Holly, Seth, and Fiann. The two girls and older woman were practically climbing over each other trying to convince him to bring them along, until Raine finally cut in. “Hold on just a moment. If anyone’s gonna go with Blue, it’s gonna be his wife.” Her gaze turned to Lailah. “Isn’t that right, Sis?”

W-Wife!? But before Abel could respond, Lailah, who’d been quiet up to this point, looked away, and replied flatly, “I’m not interested in going.”

“What, seriously? And miss the chance to pretty yourself up?” Raine pressed. “Now I know I don’t speak for everyone here, but I can say that I definitely would-”

“I said I’m not interested,” Lailah repeated, voice rising in anger.

Raine stared at Lailah in disbelief for a few moments, before turning to Abel. “Wait, are you two fighting right now? What happened- what did you do, Abel?”

“That’s our business,” the priestess said coldly. “And I’m not going. I won’t repeat myself again.”

"Alright fine. If you wanna miss out, that's on you, Sis." Raine then declared as she turned back to Abel. "So, who're you taking?"

"I'm not sure…” Abel replied, thinking. "I think… something might happen at the ball. Something… bad."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Well, I ran into someone while I was visiting the queen."

“…Well, don't leave us all in suspense,” Claire said.

“Commander Brell was there. She told me she and the rest of the Wyverns are here to help the palace guards with security for the ball.”

“Commander Brell?” the president asked in surprise. “As in, Commander Shirley Brell of Wyvern Company?”

“The Wyverns…” Seth muttered. “Those are some heavy hitters to be working security for an ordinary ball.”

“I wouldn't call the Union Day ball ‘ordinary,’ Madame,” Raine replied. “It’s one of the few times where every major figure in Faetón is gathered in the same place. If someone wanted to throw the whole nation into chaos, there couldn't be a more perfect day to do it." The witch rubbed her chin. "I just wonder who would have the stones to make a move like that…”

“You don’t bring in a Special Operations Unit just for show,” Claire concluded. “Wyvern Company being here means it's more than likely something will happen. We need to plan accordingly.” Her gaze turned to Abel. “I’ll go with you.”

“You sure?” Raine said, her already narrow eyes narrowing even further. “I thought you couldn’t even stand to have Blue stand too close to you. And now you’re okay with being his date for some fancy party?”

Claire gave her a deadpan stare. “That may be true, but this isn’t about how I feel. It's about choosing the best person for the job. Those two-” she pointed at Holly and Seth. “-wouldn’t be able to sneak their weapons into the palace. That one-” she pointed to Fiann. “-would draw the guards’ attention away from the actual threat. Miss Promestein and her maid are practically attached at the hip, Lailah has refused to participate, and you… well, you’d get yourself thrown out by being your normal, obnoxious self before the enemy made their move. That leaves me by default.” The president then stood. “Come, degenerate. We need to go shopping.”

“Wait, what for?” he asked.

“And what are the rest of us supposed to do?” Seth snapped.

“If we’re going to attend a high-society event, we need to at least look presentable,” Claire replied. “And as for the rest of you… I’m sure you can help Wyvern Company in your own way.”

“Degenerate, I swear, if I see you f*cking with your collar again…” Claire growled.

“I told you, these things were way too tight,” Abel replied, tugging nervously at the collar of his dress shirt.

“Well that’s what’s fashionable among the nobility at the moment, so you’d better adjust real f*cking fast.” She shot him a nasty glare. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing me up. This dress isn’t an invitation, so you’d better keep those hands to yourself.” The president huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, deepening the gap between her… somethings. “Honestly. You men are all the same…”

Abel blushed, looking away. “Sorry.” He was trying very hard to not notice how incredibly beautiful Claire looked. The dress she’d chosen from the tailor was purple, much like her Guild uniform, with silver embroidery running across it, ending just above her knees. It hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating everything. Even her hair was styled differently, pinned up in an elegant bun. A part of him had always known that the president was a very attractive woman, but seeing her dressed up like this really forced him to openly acknowledge that fact.

Abel on the other hand felt like a complete fool, and seeing his reflection just before setting out for the palace did very little to dispel those feelings. He was wearing a white shirt, black trousers, a blue vest with gold embroidered trim, and black shoes shined so much they almost reflected everything around them. Of his ensemble, only the shoes fit comfortably, and any time he did seemingly anything- whether it was walking, lifting his arms, or even just breathing in too deeply- the fabric tightened uncomfortably, threatening to tear. Minze had tried to run a brush through his hair before they’d left, but it still stuck up in places, resisting all attempts to force it to lie flat. It was the culmination of two days’ worth of preparation, to make him look as presentable as possible for the ball, but the end result left much to be desired. Abel was very much out of place here, and no amount of fancy clothes could hide that. It was at total odds with how Claire presented herself. She seemed completely at ease. Like she belonged.

The two entered the palace throne room. The first thing Abel noticed was the grand chandelier hanging overhead, casting light over the entirety of the massive room. And below it, men and women alike were mingling, speaking, laughing, drinking, eating. The sounds of chatter echoed throughout the chamber, broken occasionally by the sound of music coming from the corner to his right. There, a small orchestra played as couples danced around each other.

“Try not to gawk too much, degenerate,” Claire said in a low voice. “It makes you stick out more.” And with that, she moved deeper into the throne room, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment, Abel didn’t follow. Instead, he took another moment to take in the sights around him. Only for the moment to be interrupted when something pushed him aside. “Out of my way!” a man growled. “And while you’re at it, fetch me a drink! A strong one!”

Abel turned, finding himself facing a large man in red and gold robes, accompanied by a young woman, his arm around her waist. “I’m not a servant, though. I’m a guest.”

“It doesn’t matter who you are!” the large man said. His face was flushed, his words slurred, and he swayed slightly as he stood- was he already drunk? “You stand in the presence of Duke Vesper Flammarion, and you will do as I say! Now-”

Before Abel could react, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a cool voice behind him. “Excuse me, Duke Flammarion, but I believe you’re mistaken. This man is here as a guest of Queen Citryn.” He glanced back, but he already knew who the voice belonged to- Shirley Brell.

“Commander Brell!” Flammarion exclaimed, bowing slightly. “You honor us with your presence. But… who exactly is this man?”

“This is Lord Abel, the Champion of Bacchus,” Shirely replied. “And the man who found and returned the queen’s daughter, Agate.”

The duke leaned forward, as if to give Abel a better look. “Oh? I had heard the princess’s savior would be attending, but I hadn’t expected him to be so… small.” He laughed, striding into the throne room with his companion in tow. “If such a small boy could save her, perhaps she was never in any real danger to begin with!”

Abel gritted his teeth, ready to retort until the hand laid on his shoulder tightened. “Just let it go, Lord Abel. Duke Flammarion tends to become quite inflammatory after a few drinks. Don’t hold his words against him.”

Abel smothered his anger, and turned to thank the Wyvern’s commander, only for his jaw to immediately fall open. Shirley was wearing a red dress that clung to her body like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination, with a slit that went halfway up her thigh, revealing a shapely leg, and a neckline that plunged deeply, her golden, emerald-studded necklace seeming to only draw even more attention to it. Her hair was up, much like Claire’s, but with a small part of her bangs hanging over one eye, giving her a mysterious, seductive air. If Claire had been beautiful, then Shirley was absolutely radiant.

For a while, he could only stare in stunned silence. He tried to say something, but in his mind, the words he wanted to say seemed to dissolve before they could reach his mouth. She seemed to notice something was amiss, and the small smile she had faded. “Lord Abel?”

He needed to say something. Anything!

“Buh…”

…Something other than that.

Fortunately, Shirley’s smile returned, seemingly more amused than offended. “Am I truly so beautiful that you have no words for me? Well, I’m glad to learn that I can still make a man speechless,” she teased, giving a wink.

Abel jolted, as if suddenly awoken. “I-Is Si- Agate here?” He tried to keep his composure, something that was very difficult to do when a beautiful woman was standing right in front of him, smiling and playing with a lock of her hair.

Her smile faded, but the amusem*nt in her eyes didn’t. “Oh? Are you saying my company isn’t to your liking?”

“Eh-” Abel had no idea how to respond. Was she actually flirting with him, or was it just an act? Something to make her appear less threatening? He couldn’t tell.

Shirley then let out a small laugh. “You know Lord Abel, you’re much too serious. You should enjoy yourself more. I’m sure other boys your age would be thrilled to be surrounded by so many women. Why not try your luck at dancing with one?” With that, she turned and walked away, her hips swaying enticingly. Abel quickly averted his gaze, but he couldn’t push the commander out of his mind entirely. Something about her attire stood out to Abel. Not because of how revealing it was… n-not that he had been looking, of course. But rather, because of something that was missing.

Her glasses.

So, alone, Abel pushed through the crowd, searching for Sion. Or the Queen. Surely if he found one, then the other wouldn’t be too far. As he passed, he overheard comments about him, questioning which house and nation he belonged to, and more than once, he was stopped by people mistaking him for a servant and asking him to fetch something for them. And few seemed to be swayed when he tried to convince him otherwise.

“I told you already, I’m not a servant!” Abel protested again- he wasn’t even a third of the way across the throne room, and this was already the fifth time someone had stopped him.

But again, his protests did little to dissuade the three noblewomen who had stopped him. “Oh really?” the one in the middle said. She had short brown hair and red eyes, and wore a frilly dress of red, white and gold. “Then what family do you represent? We haven’t seen you at court before.”

“I’m not from Faetón, and I’m not a noble,” he replied, quickly losing his patience. “I was invited by Queen Citryn personally.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t elicit the reaction Abel anticipated. Instead, the three women burst into laughter. “The queen? Invite you?” the woman on the right said- she wore a dark green dress, her black hair woven into a braid. She then looked at Abel with a cold expression. “In my family, servants would be whipped for telling such audacious lies.”

Abel clenched his fist, feeling the heat rise in his body. But before he could respond, he heard a flurry of footsteps, and an excited cry of “Eibo!” He turned, just in time to see a girl leaping toward him. Again, he moved instinctively to catch her. But unlike the last time, the recognition came almost immediately.

Sion.

She looked practically the same as she had on the day when he met her again- she was even wearing the same green dress that shifted shades with every movement, with no added adornments. But now, her eyes sparkled, and she grinned widely, hugging him tightly. “Eibo! I was… looking for you.”

The three noble girls were stunned for a moment. “Wait, who is that?” the one in red asked.

“That’s… Princess Agate!” the girl on the left said. She was dressed in a blue and white dress, her golden hair pulled into tight curls that almost reached the floor.

“How do you know her?” the girl in green demanded.

Abel allowed himself to puff up with pride. “I know her because I’m the one who found her.”

“You- …you’re lying!” Red shouted. “There’s no way someone as weak-looking as you could’ve found her!”

Sion’s grip on Abel tightened, and she glared at the three girls. She was actually growling at them. “Eibo… is not weak.”

Green took a step back, appalled. “Are you… growling at us!? Clearly, you longears aren’t taught any manners!” She stepped forward, raising her hand as if to strike Sion. She tensed, preparing to dodge, while Abel extended a hand, preparing to call-

“I believe that’s quite enough,” a man’s voice said. Abel turned to find a man approaching. He had long, wavy black hair, a thin mustache, and wore a black suit. He wasn’t especially tall, nor his presence especially commanding, but regardless, the three noble girls backed off almost immediately. “You must understand, Princess Agate has spent over thirty years away from civilization- though Queen Citryn has made every effort to educate her, a month is simply not enough time to learn all the nuances of etiquette.” The man extended a hand to Abel. “My apologies for the rudeness of my countrywomen. You must be Sir Abel. Though your meeting was brief, I understand you left quite an impression on Her Majesty.”

Abel shook the stranger’s hand. "And you are…?”

“Raoul,” the man replied. Unfortunately, if there was some significance to his name, Abel was unaware of it. “I’m certain Her Majesty would be glad to see that you accepted her invitation. Please, come with me.” Raoul then turned, making his way to the far side of the room, the crowd readily parting as he neared.

As Abel followed, he heard the girl in red say, “That boy… does he not have any idea who that was?”

“But you heard what he said, right?” the girl in blue replied. “And if he knows the princess, then…” But the rest of their conversation was lost as Raoul led Abel further into the room.

The crowd thinned, until they reached the far side of the throne room. It was dominated by a large set of steps leading up to… a throne, set in front of two large openings that led to a balcony overlooking the sea. A number of very important-looking people were gathered around it, among them Duke Flammarion and… “Sir Abel,” Citryn said, turning to face as he, Raoul, and Sion drew close. She was talking to a blonde man in a blue and white coat- Citryn was already tall, but this man easily rivaled her in height, so he naturally towered over Abel. “I trust you’re enjoying yourself?”

Abel took a long moment before he replied. “Well, I’ve been treated worse.” No one had tried to kill him at least. Not yet, anyway.

The man in blue huffed. “Can’t say I’ ve ever enjoyed these gatherings, either. All these puffed-up nobles and their false smiles.” He gave Abel a glance over. “So you’re the one who saved Citryn’s daughter. Congratulations, I guess.” He began walking away. “Please excuse me. I’m too sober to put up with these people right now.” He wandered away, still visible above most of the crowd.

“Eugene Watson, Lord of Aurora,” Raoul said in a low voice. “Not the friendliest sort, but his honesty is refreshing.” Another man dressed in black quickly approached the older man, whispering something in his ear. “Oh, is it that time already? Very well.” He turned his attention back to Abel, Sion, and Citryn. “I must step away for a moment. I assure you, I won’t be long.” He turned away, stepping onto the stairs to the throne.

Almost the moment he did, a voice rang out over the entire room: “Presenting, His Majesty, King of Themis and Lord Protector of the Realm, King Raoul Emilian Julianos Espinosa of Secchi!”

A wave of whispers rippled through the room, as Raoul seated himself on the throne. Abel could only stare in bewilderment. He was a king? It did explain why those girls had reacted the way they had, but-

“Fellow citizens, countrymen, and guests, I welcome you to this grand occasion,” Raoul called out. His voice was different now: loud, deep, commanding. The sort of voice Abel imagined a king to have, and a far cry from the calm, measured tone he’d used moments earlier. “For nearly sixty years, the nations of Faetón have stood united under a single banner. And every year since, we have celebrated the union of our nations.” A cheer went up at his words. “But today, we have an additional reason to celebrate. Twenty-five years ago, the only daughter of Queen Citryn and the late King Kalsedon was stolen from her very home. Many believed that none would ever lay eyes on the princess again. But just one month ago, by the grace of the gods, she was returned to her family. And so, it gives me great pleasure to welcome Her Majesty, Princess Agate!”

As if on cue, the musicians struck up a triumphant note, and all eyes fell on Sion. Abel turned to her as well.

And saw a figure in black melt into existence and lunge toward Sion, gleaming blade in his hand.

Abel didn’t think. He moved toward Sion and the man in black. But before he could get anywhere near them, Sion turned, grabbing the figure’s wrist, and twisting it, making the dagger fall from their grasp. Before it could reach the floor, the princess snatched the blade out of the air and raked it across her attacker’s stomach, sending out a spray of blood. He stumbled back, but Sion threw herself at him, knocking him to the ground before leaping on top of him, driving the blade into his chest again and again, splattering herself and everyone around her with blood.

Screams erupted, but not from Citryn, or anyone nearby. Abel turned, and at the far end of the room, more of the figures in black. Seemingly dozens of them, cutting down everyone they encountered. Wings of light ignited on his back, and a sword of light formed in his hands seemingly of their own volition. He flew across the throne room, choosing his first target- a black figure advancing on the three noblewomen from earlier. His back was to Abel. So he had no chance to react as Abel drove the blade through his back and out through his chest, before tearing upwards, cleaving through flesh and bone as if it were nothing but air.

The man crumpled to the ground, spraying Abel with his blood. The three noble girls looked at Abel in horror, but there was no time to ask if they were alright. He saw another figure rush toward him from the corner of his eye, and he met the charge. The figure swung his blade- Abel tried to parry, but the moment the figure’s dagger touched his blade of light, his blade cut through the steel, sending the shard spiraling toward him, biting deep into his chin. But the figure was thrown off-balance, and Abel’s blade cut through him with ease. Again, there was no time to rest, as yet another attacker lunged forward. For the first time, Abel managed to have a good look at the figure’s attire- clad in all black, with a cloak of black feathers, their face hidden behind a black mask that resembled a bird’s beak. The figure reached back, preparing to thrust their dagger…

…but they never got the chance. A red-clad figure rushed in from the side, driving one dagger into the black figure’s neck, and a second into the side of their head. As the figure collapsed, Shirley Brell withdrew her blades and looked toward Abel. “Are you alright, Lord Abel?” She was spattered with blood, but seemed largely unscathed.

“Who are these guys!?” he shouted over the chaos around them.

“The Boalnir,” she answered. The Ravens. But before she could explain further, there was a shout of “Vas Flam Hur!” and an explosion burst nearby, knocking the two of them off their feet. As Abel staggered to his feet, another black figure raced toward him, blade in hand. Abel thrust out a hand, a gout of white flame exploding from his palm and enveloping the figure in searing heat.

Another explosion echoed through the room, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Something slammed into Abel’s back, throwing him against a wall, a sharp pain coursing through him. He fell to the ground, clutching at his side as his ears rang and bright spots danced across his vision. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and he rolled, swinging his blade around as he did so. It caught a figure in the thigh, slicing through cloth and skin and bone alike, sending the figure toppling. The figure in black didn’t even cry out as Abel rose, instead aiming a hand toward him as if to cast a spell of their own.

But again, the figure never had the chance. A halberd was suddenly thrust into the center of their chest, impaling them. As the figure shuddered, the halberd was withdrawn, and the weapon’s wielder looked to Abel. “Eibo?”

It was Sion. Her hands were caked in blood, her dress torn and ruined, but like Shirley, it seemed she wasn’t hurt. “Are you… hurt?” she asked.

He was. But he forced himself up, ignoring the burning pain in his side. "No time for that," he said through gritted teeth. "The queen, is she alright?"

“She safe,” she answered. She then whirled around and thrust her halberd into a figure that had tried to attack from behind- after five vicious stabs, they finally collapsed. “Using magic… to protect others.”

Abel laid a hand on his side and focused, bathing himself in a white light that eased his pain. “We have to help her!” And without waiting for an answer, he began moving back toward the throne.

On the far end of the room, Abel could see a shimmering golden bubble. Within, Citryn stood, face contorted with effort, surrounded by Raoul and several dozen nobles. Outside, the bubble, guards and other nobles fought against the black figures. But it was clear they were losing ground- several guards had fallen already, and the bubble was beginning to crack.

Abel charged toward the queen. He could feel his strength falter, but he ignored it, hacking at any black figure that strayed too close. Shirley and Sion followed, the commander striking at foes with swift precision, the princess with unrelenting brutality.

When they reached the queen, Sion launched herself at the nearest Boalnir, thrusting her halberd deep into his gut. But they hadn’t arrived fast enough. The last guard fell, leaving the bubble undefended. The remaining figures surrounded it, hacking at it with their weapons, the cracks in its surface spreading further and further. Within, Citryn sank to her knees, trails of blood leaking from her eyes. Abel knew exactly what that meant- the queen had run out of mana to keep her barrier up. Abel leapt at the nearest figure, cutting him down in a single strike. And the one after that. But there were simply too many, and they seemed more focused on trying to break the barrier than in fighting off him and the others.

But then, Abel heard a voice, quickly reciting what he recognized to be a magic incantation. “Scourge of the heavens, rain down upon my enemies and bind them in torment: Chain Lightning!”

A bolt of lightning shot past Abel, striking one of the Boalnir. But then it arced to the next black figure, striking them as well. And the next. In moments, the lightning struck every Boalnir surrounding the bubble, driving them to their knees if not killing them outright. Calmly, the source of the spell approached, iron-shod staff in hand. “If you were keeping a count of foes vanquished, I think I just won,” Claire announced.

The blade of light in Abel’s hand faded. “Where have you been?”

“Busy, trying to stay alive,” she replied.

Sion turned, gaze sweeping over the throne room. “All… dead?”

Abel looked out over the throne room as well. Dozens of people lay on the floor, unmoving, surrounded by puddles of blood. Many of those figures wore the black garb of the Boalnir, but seemingly just as many were nobles, their brightly colored attire now permanently stained red. He recognized a few of the fallen- Duke Flammarion’s companion, and the man Citryn had been speaking to- Eugene. But there were survivors. Some wounded, many undoubtedly traumatized, but still alive all the same. The same could not be said about the Boalnir- not one of their number was still standing. "Yeah…” Abel finally said. “I think they’re all dead.”

The bubble dissipated. Citryn slowly staggered to her feet, leaning on Raoul for support. She was drenched in sweat, trickles of blood still leaking from her eyes. “Sir Abel… Sion… you’re… safe,” she said weakly, between breaths.

“Save your strength, Your Majesty,” Shirley then said. “We’ll take you somewhere safe.”

“But… the others-”

“The rest of the garrison is on the way as we speak, as are healers and medics. We’ll see to it that every survivor is accounted for.” As soon as Shirley was finished speaking, the throne room doors were thrown open, and a number of palace guards rushed in, with two figures out of place among the red-and-gold clad soldiers: a scantily clad woman with brown hair and bronzed skin, and a green-haired girl in blue with glasses, a large satchel slung across her shoulder. The two outliers rushed over to Shirley. “sh*t, are we too late?” Julia Ries asked.

“What happened, Commander?” Amber asked. “We only received word a few minutes ago.”

“The Boalnir attacked. They came out of nowhere, began slaughtering everyone in attendance. But we stopped them.” Shirley stiffened. “Where are the others?”

“Sweeping the rest of the palace for stragglers,” Julia answered. “They’ll report here once they’re finished.”

“Good. Amber, see to the wounded. Julia, help the garrison escort the survivors somewhere safe. Lord Abel, help me with the Queen.”

Amber set her satchel on the floor, and began searching through it, setting out numerous bottles full of a yellow liquid. “I’ll get right on it, Commander.”

Abel and Shirley began to slowly walk toward the throne room doors, carrying Citryn between them, Sion and Claire following behind them. All around them, guards moved swiftly to shepherd the survivors away, or tended to the injured as best as they could. They had to move slowly, both because of the queen’s weakened state, and because the floor was still slick with blood. Abel was tense. And not simply because he was surrounded by bodies, or because the tension from the battle hadn’t fully left his body. Something felt… off. Even though the Boalnir lay dead, he still felt as if the danger had yet to pass. He kept looking around, expecting one final attack to come at any moment.

“What are you doing?” Claire snapped.

Abel’s gaze swept over the bodies nearby. “Something’s not right,” he replied. “What if one of those Boalnir isn’t dead? And they’re just waiting to surprise us?”

“Lord Abel, we’re surrounded on all sides by the palace guards,” Shirley replied. “Even if one of them had survived, they wouldn’t have enough time-”

Abel… felt the threat coming more than he saw it. So he swung his arm out, a blade of light forming in his hand. At the same time, he heard a gruff voice call “Uus Sanct!” Abel’s blade struck the air just in front of a figure dressed in black. His free hand was outstretched, a small glowing green barrier keeping Abel’s blade at bay. But the barrier did little to stop Sion from stabbing her halberd into his legs, driving him to the ground. In a matter of moments, the guards and Julia rushed over, completely surrounding the final Boalnir.

Abel stepped away from the queen, keeping his blade aimed at the figure in black. There was something about his voice… and when he reached out and tore away the figure’s mask, his suspicions were confirmed. “I know you,” he said. “You’re the queen’s bodyguard!”

Obsianos didn’t resist as he was disarmed and secured. Instead, he just glared at Abel with cold, hard eyes.

“Obsianos…” Citryn said weakly. She pulled away from Shirley, seemingly regaining the strength to stand on her own. “What is the meaning of this?”

“…And what would you have me say?” Obsianos asked in turn, his voice devoid of emotion. “That I didn’t realize their intent? No. I came here with every intention of ending your life. You, your daughter, the pompous fool who calls himself king, the baseborn… every man, woman, and child in this room was never meant to see the dawn.”

Raoul approached, surrounded by guards. “But, why?” he asked. “In what way have we offended you, Sir Obsianos? We’ve always treated the Gaspari Kingdom fairly. As equals. If there is some grievance-”

“Why should elves pay heed to the whims of a human king, when we once ruled this world as no less than gods!?” Obsianos snarled. “Our people will free themselves from the yoke of man, and claim their birthright once more!” He spat at Raoul’s feet.

Citryn’s fatigue seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced with fury. “Our people are at peace. They have a homeland, protection. They enjoy prosperity that would’ve been unthinkable just a hundred years ago. And you… you would tarnish all of that? You would slaughter innocents, betray your nation, the king you swore to serve? …And for what? To claim faded glories won by ancestors you’ve never even met!?”

Obsianos growled, and moved as if to rise, but remained on his knees. “What you call prosperity and protection is nothing more than a cage. We are weak now, forced to serve a race that looks down upon us as inferiors. I seek to end that farce, and restore my people to their rightful station!”

“Their rightful station!? Need I remind you what that manner of thought led to!? The mark on your wrist! The one on Agate’s neck! The one I have here!” Citryn grabbed the slit in her dress and pulled the fabric aside to expose her leg. On her thigh was a black mark, resembling a tattoo of a spider with a skull on its abdomen. “You once claimed that humans are ignorant, eagerly repeating the mistakes of their forebears. Yet you seem perfectly willing to repeat the mistakes of our own predecessors. …How can you be so blind, Obsianos?”

“Blind? No. I merely see beyond the lies fed to us,” the bodyguard snarled. “And if I must tread over the corpses of a thousand men to return our kind to greatness, so be it. I would sooner die than spend another day shackled by your ‘prosperity.’”

Julia punched a fist against her palm. “That can easily be arranged.”

“Stand down, Julia,” Shirley ordered. “The Lord Protector’s justice will decide his fate.”

Citryn took a step forward. “No. He will not face King Raoul’s justice. He will face mine.” She turned to Abel. “Sir Abel. Execute him.”

A shocked silence fell over the room. “Miss Citryn?” Abel asked.

“This man is a traitor,” she replied coldly. “He has betrayed the trust placed in him by me and my husband. His actions here today have led to the deaths of countless innocents. And if not for your actions, my daughter and I would be among them.”

“Miss Citryn, you cannot mean this,” Raoul protested. “He may be a traitor, but executing him here and now-”

Citryn cut him off. “I do not need permission from you, Raoul. Our treaty states that the subjects of each nation shall be judged in accordance with their nation’s laws. As such, his fate is mine to decide.” She shot a withering glare. “And I have made my judgement.”

The queen’s words hung heavy in the air. A murmur passed among the gathered nobles, shock plain on their faces. Finally, Abel extended his hand, a blade of light forming from his palm. This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone- the first enemy he’d slain with his own strength had been another human, after all- but this… this was different. It felt wrong. The same apprehension he’d felt when Cinquedea surrendered to him gripped his heart. He moved the blade to Obsianos’s neck. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t will himself to move it closer. Then, the sword in Abel’s hand disappeared. “I… I can’t…” he said faintly.

Citryn seethed, but before she could say anything, Obsianos spoke. “Do you see your act as a mercy, baseborn?” he asked, glaring up at Abel with cold contempt. “Because I see it for the weakness it is. Perhaps I will repay your kindness by finding those closest to you and butchering them one-by-”

Rage flared, and a sword of light ignited in Abel’s hand again, before he swung it at Obsianos with all his might, cutting through his body in a diagonal line from his shoulder to his hip. Blood spurted out, and for a moment, Obsianos looked surprised, as if he truly hadn’t expected to be struck down so abruptly- his eyes widened, then rolled back, as the two halves of his body collapsed to the ground.

The sword in Abel’s hand disappeared, and he turned away, striding toward the throne room’s balcony. “Lord Abel,” Shirley called after him.

“Just… give me a minute…” Abel replied, not looking back. Once he reached the balcony, he nearly collapsed, catching the railing to stop himself. He drew in several deep breaths of air that were free of the taste of blood. He looked down at himself, for seemingly the first time since entering the throne room. The clothes that he’d spent so much money on were ruined, splattered with blood and practically torn to ribbons from his efforts. His head roiled, as if filled with storm clouds- he understood that Obsianos was dangerous, a threat to everyone present. But…

“Excuse me, sir?” a voice from behind asked. It was the noble girl in red from before, her two companions still at each side. “I… I will admit that I was wrong about you. I do believe that you were the one who found Princess Agate now.”

Abel turned to face the girls fully. He could only imagine what sort of expression he was making. Was that all they had to say?

But as it turned out, there was more. “And I must say, you cut a rather dashing figure when saving people,” she added.

The girl in green then cut in. “I would be very interested in getting to know you better. And I believe my family would agree.”

“M-My name is Rita!” the girl in blue added. “If… you were wondering.”

Just minutes before, Abel had been nothing to these girls. Now suddenly they were fawning over him?

The girl in red smiled. “If I may be so bold, may I ask if you are perhaps-”

“…I am no less a Hero right now than I was when I first set foot in this room,” Abel said, cutting the girl off.

A look of confusion appeared on the three noblewomen’s faces. “Sir?”

Abel felt heat rising within him. “I told you exactly who I was, and what I was doing here. Not only did you not believe me, you insulted me and tried to order me around like a servant. But now that I’ve done something useful, you want to pretend like none of that happened and get on my good side?” Abel took a step forward, causing the three to back away. “How many times do I have to prove myself before you people finally accept that I’m who I say I am!?”

The noblewoman in green began to stammer. “W-We didn’t mean to offend-”

“Well you did!” For a brief instant, the wings on Abel’s back erupted to life, wreathed in plumes of white flame.

“Lord Abel!”

Abel turned, to see Shirley quickly approaching. And she was far from the only one. It seemed the exchange had drawn quite a lot of attention from those who still remained in the throne room. “What’s going on?” the commander demanded.

“Nothing…” he replied coldly, before turning away. “I was just about to leave.”

“Leave? You can’t just-”

“It’s alright.” Wings of fire erupted to life on Abel's back. “I’ll see myself out.” And without another word, Abel took flight, soaring across the night sky like a falling star.

“…then, you expected something like this. That’s why you were here in Furni, isn’t it?”

“We thought some group of agitators might try disrupting the ball,” Shirley replied. “But we were expecting a human supremacist group, not the Boalnir. Nor that Queen Citryn’s own steward was among their number.”

“And, who are these… Boalnir?”

“A faction of dark elves who seek to regain the Gaspari Kingdom’s independence. At least, that’s how they would describe themselves. In reality, they’re terrorists, ones that have proven themselves to be utterly ruthless in their methods. It’s suspected that almost every major incident of violence within Faetón is tied to them in some way. Some even believe they had a hand in Princess Agate’s kidnapping. But of course, nothing’s been proven…”

The next morning had come. News of what happened spread quickly throughout the city, and a crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the palace. The citizens were somber, many of them openly mourning the lives that had been lost. Some hurled insults at the garrison, blaming them for not being able to stop the attack. The Queen's actions especially had drawn mixed reactions; while there were those who approved of her swift justice, there were others who decried her decision as hasty and unwise. And Abel had drawn his own fair share of attention. Though only those present at the ball had actually seen what happened, the events had been related enough times by the survivors and witnesses that most had some idea of what transpired. Abel's companions, for their part, were thankful that he was unharmed, though Claire was more than a little upset that Abel had left her behind to deal with the aftermath of the Boalnir’s attack. After returning to the inn and washing off the blood, Abel had been content to simply lay in bed and put the night's events out of his mind… until Shirley Brell came to visit. She had come to pass on information- about the Boalnir, about why the Wyverns were in Furni, and what would happen to Faetón from here.

“…The rest of my unit are searching through the Boalnir agents’ personal effects,” the commander said. “We may be able to find information about other cells, or collaborators who allowed this attack to take place. But you don’t need to concern yourself with assisting us. You’ve done enough already.”

Abel said nothing in reply. He still felt sick from what he’d done.

“…You don’t have to feel guilty, you know,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “That man was a traitor. And his actions led to the deaths of dozens of innocents. One way or another, his life would have ended. And every attendee of the ball who’s alive now owes their life to you, Lord Abel.”

Abel scoffed. “Funny. Most of them didn’t seem to think much of me before the Ravens showed themselves. And it’s not like I saved everyone myself.”

Shirley didn’t argue the point, instead rising from her seat. “I need to return to the palace and assist my unit. But before I go, I have a message for you. Queen Citryn wishes to meet with you again. Her Majesty wants to express her gratitude for your heroism.” Again, Abel didn’t reply. So the commander continued. “If you’re worried about being turned away, don’t be. Your deeds from last night should speak for themselves. And as for those nobles… keep accomplishing heroic deeds, and eventually everyone from here to Kadessa will sing your praises.”

With that, Shirley departed, leaving Abel alone once more. He stared at the floor, feeling no lighter despite the commander’s words. But in any case, if the queen wanted to see him again, it would be unwise to keep her waiting. Besides, he still needed to ask for that boat. And if she wouldn’t, or couldn’t provide one, perhaps one of the other nobles he helped to save would be more amenable.

So, he dressed himself and headed for the palace. He was clad in his normal attire- his outfit for the ball was in no shape to be worn, and in any case, these clothes were far more comfortable. He reached the palace gates in short order, and pushed his way through the gathered crowd. But once he reached the gate itself, as before, the guards moved to block his path. “Hold,” one said. “The palace is closed to the public today.” The guard was different from the one who’d turned him away three days prior, but though he put on a veneer of politeness, his tone was no less dismissive.

“I’m expected,” Abel said flatly. “So I’m just going to see myself inside.” And without waiting for a response, Abel’s wings flared to life, and he flew himself over the palace walls, landing just inside the gate. There was an uproar from the gathered crowd, but none of the guards moved to stop him- it seemed they finally realized just who he was, and that he did indeed have business there. Ignoring their shocked expressions, Abel strode purposefully toward the palace.

But Citryn wasn’t waiting for him in the foyer. Nor in the throne room, where dozens of servants and officials busied themselves cleaning up the remains of the night before. Instead, he was directed again to the queen’s private chambers. But these were not the apartments he’d visited before, but instead a suite in a different section of the palace, under heavy guard by the garrison. Unlike the ones at the gate, these guards allowed him to pass without incident, and Abel made his way up a spiraling tower to the queen’s new chambers.

Though smaller than her previous apartments, they were no less luxurious, filled with bookshelves and paintings, tapestries, and plush seating. The only thing that seemed to be missing… was Citryn herself. But though she wasn’t in the main room, she was indeed in the apartments, as when Abel stepped into the center of the main room, he heard her call out, “I’m in the next room, Sir Abel.” Her voice came from a door to his right. And thinking little of what may lay beyond, Abel opened it.

The room beyond was dark, the curtains drawn, illuminated only by candles, and dominated by a large, soft-looking bed. But it was what was laying on the bed that caught Abel’s eye. Queen Citryn laid on her side, propping up her head with one arm. She’d draped a blanket over herself, one that was thin enough to make it abundantly clear that was not wearing anything underneath it. She was smiling- not the polite, but distant smile reserved for the public, or even the warm smile of their first meeting, but something much more… intimate. “Welcome Sir Abe-”

Abel immediately pulled the door shut. For several long moments, he stood, heart pounding in his chest, trying to understand what he’d seen. He… he saw nothing. He saw nothing. He was never here. He turned away from the bedroom-

The bedroom door swung open. “Sir Abel, please wait!” Citryn said, still wrapped only in her blanket. “Have I… done something to offend you? Please, stay!”

Abel did stay. But, he wouldn’t look at Citryn. He couldn’t even look in her general direction. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to. All he knew was that some part deep inside of himself told him that the queen’s current state was something that he wasn’t meant to see. That his gaze would be some sort of intrusion, a violation. “Miss Citryn…” he began hesitantly. “What… what is all this?”

“Is it… not obvious?” she asked in turn. “The candles, the bed, the lack of attendants… surely you must have some idea. I realize that by human standards I’m quite old, but I’m hardly decrepit. And don’t younger men prefer their partners to be more… experienced, shall we say? Or… would Sion have been more to your taste?”

Abel had no idea what Citryn meant by that. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. All he wanted to do right now was leave. To escape the uncomfortable situation he’d found himself in. He still wouldn’t look directly at the queen, but at the edge of his vision, he could see her expression shift from amusem*nt to concern. “You… you really have no idea, do you?” When Abel shook his head, she sighed. “I see.”

“I- …I’m sorry.” Abel wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. His ignorance?

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Citryn cut him off. “I was the one who made assumptions.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence. “Will you… excuse me for a moment?”

Citryn slipped back into the other room, leaving Abel alone. As awkward as everything had been, it felt… familiar. Abel couldn’t help but remember when Liz had snuck into his bed, wanting to "repay him." And how after he’d expressed confusion about what she meant, she simply left. The merchant’s words echoed in his head:

…well now I just feel like I’m taking advantage of you.

A few minutes later, Citryn reemerged, this time fully clothed in a simple, light dress. “Please forgive me, Sir Abel. It seems I misjudged you entirely.”

Abel nodded- he couldn’t look her in the eye, but he could at least look at her.

The queen seated herself on one of the couches in the apartment. “I had hoped to reward you in a manner befitting of your deeds. You not only returned my daughter to me safely, but saved my life and the lives of numerous others as well. Such a debt is not easily repaid. So, if there is something you desire, simply name it. And I will do everything within my power to grant it.”

Finally. A moment like this was exactly what Abel was waiting for. And now that it had come, he wasted no time making his request. “Miss Citryn, I’d like to have a ship. One that can cross the ocean to the east.”

For a moment, Citryn’s eyes narrowed, and she looked puzzled. “Do you not already have a vessel, Sir Abel?”

“We do, but it can’t carry the supplies we’d need to make such a long trip,” Abel explained. “Also, if you have any maps of the lands on the other side of the ocean, that would be helpful too.”

Citryn thought for a moment. “A ship… and maps. Very well. It may take some time, but you have what you’ve asked for.” A moment passed. "Sir Abel, I feel as though I owe you greater thanks. Are you certain that there’s nothing else?"

Abel was quiet. But… there was something. A question that came to mind stemming from the night before. “There is something. That mark on your leg… what does it mean?”

Citryn’s smile faded, as she laid a hand on her thigh, over where the mark would have been. “This mark… is a punishment. From our creator, Daeva. Though most humans know her by the name, Artemis.”

“A punishment?” he asked. “For what?”

Citryn asked a question of her own in turn: “What do you know… of Maduin?”

Abel recognized the name- he’d seen it briefly in Dragonslayer, in a list of Bahamut’s Fiend Generals. But… that was all. “I only know the name.”

“Maduin… was one of the Fiend Generals the hero Alondight faced in his journey. In his time, elves ruled much of the world, and many deeply resented the rising power of the other civilized races. Of that lot, Maduin was the most prominent. He gained great power by bending his knee to the Dread Dragon Bahamut, and rallied a mighty host about himself, hoping to exterminate humans and other races deemed as inferiors. But when Maduin was slain at Alondight’s hand, his forces splintered. Some wished to further their master’s goals, even in his absence. Others laid down their arms, repenting for their deeds. And still others fled, attempting to mask their prior allegiance to Maduin. All those who would not repent… were cursed by Daeva. She branded them- and their children, and their children- with a black mark, so that all would know their sins, of the darkness that lay in their souls.”

Citryn looked to the floor, her expression hardening. “From that day forward, those who bore this mark would be driven out of elven society. Banished. Forced to live in isolation and seclusion. Hunted. Even killed. And they would be given a new name, to separate them from those who remained untainted by Maduin’s influence. In the old tongue, we would be called the Akara- the Branded. But humans know our kind better… as dark elves.” She looked toward him. “Does that answer your question?”

It did. And from what (admittedly little) he knew of Artemis, it seemed like exactly the sort of thing she would do. Cursing an entire race for the actions of a single man… “Yeah.”

Another silence settled between them. Finally, she asked again, “Sir Abel, are you sure there’s nothing else you desire?”

Abel fell silent. But when nothing else came to mind, he replied, “…You’re helping me finish my quest. That’s more than enough, Miss Citryn.”

“Very well then. I’ll send word to my advisors in Gasparis, requesting that they prepare a ship suitable for your needs. Once it arrives here in Furni, I’ll send a messenger to inform you.” She rose to her feet. “Thank you, Sir Abel. For everything.”

With that, Abel returned to the inn without incident, reporting that his request to the queen had been granted. But while the others congratulated him and ordered a few rounds of drinks, Abel couldn’t put the strange start to their meeting out of his mind. What, exactly, had she been trying to do? Was it… some kind of test? Or was it something else? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something.

All of a sudden, a hand slipped across his shoulder, and Raine pulled him close. “What’s the matter, Blue? Still hung up about what happened at the ball?”

Abel blinked, before shaking his head. "No, it's not that, Raine…” He muttered, trailing off.

“Well what is it? …You aren’t lying about getting us a boat, are you?”

“What? No! It’s-” But, he hesitated. He wanted to tell her about the strange encounter with the queen, to ask… what it meant. But, he was afraid. Afraid that Raine would think he was somehow to blame for the situation. But his fear was quickly overcome by his need for an answer. “…something happened. With the queen.”

Raine raised an eyebrow. “Something? Like… what?”

Abel felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest. “Can I… tell you outside?”

For a moment, Raine looked confused. But then she nodded.”Yeah, sure.” The two stepped outside- though it was midday, a chill wind blew across the harbor. Raine waited patiently for him to speak.

Abel took a deep breath. “When I visited the queen… she was… well, she was, on a bed. And… I think she was… naked? I don’t know- she had a blanket covering her. And she said something about younger men preferring more experienced partners? Do you… have any idea what that might be about?”

The witch’s brow furrowed, and her eyes cracked open. “Blue, I’m pretty sure she was trying to seduce you.”

Abel swallowed hard. “…Seduce me?”

“Yeah. Y’know, get in your pants?”

The answers that Raine was giving him were only serving to confuse him further. “Why would she want to do that? I mean, Liz tried to take my pants off once when I was sleeping, but-”

“Wait, what!? When did that happen!?” The witch’s tone shifted so abruptly that Abel flinched slightly.

He hesitated for a moment before replying. “It was… when we were bringing her to Lohan. She said she was trying to repay me, but then she changed her mind. She said that she felt like she was taking advantage of me, and left.”

For several moments, Raine simply stared at Abel, mouth slightly agape. But eventually, she regained her senses, and slowly, cautiously, said, “Abel. I’m going to ask you something. And I want you to answer me honestly. Do you… know where children come from?”

“What?” Abel asked, taken aback. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question, Abel,” Raine pressed.

Where did children come from? In all honesty… Abel had never even thought about it. Obviously they had to come from somewhere, but… oh god Raine was staring at him. He had to come up with something. He dug desperately through his memories, searching for something, anything at all to say in reply. But then, a memory came. An old, faded memory. His first, in fact.

Of himself, standing in front of his mother’s grave.

A man had been speaking- a priest, he realized- his words echoing in Abel's head: …for it is from the dust of the earth that the Celestial Master shaped the first men. And so it is that in death, it is to the dust of the earth that men return. So, cautiously, hesitantly, Abel gave his answer. “They… come… out… of… the ground?”

At this, Raine let out a long, slow sigh. “Well… the Church does say that humans were made from the dust of the earth. But, no, Abel. People aren’t like plants. They don’t grow in the ground.”

Abel could feel his face burning. Of course that wasn’t right. But he didn’t know what else to say.

Raine took a step toward him, sliding a hand over his shoulders and drawing him close again. Her whole demeanor had shifted again, from concern to something… else. It reminded Abel of how Citryn had spoken to him. Intimate. “You don’t know, then,” she said softly. “But that’s alright.” She pulled herself even closer to him, gazing into his eyes, gently drawing a finger over his shoulder. She was… so close. Too close. And there was something in her gaze that sent shivers down Abel's spine. But even so, Abel didn’t pull away. She leaned in even closer, her breath hot against his ear.

“Would you… like to find out?”