Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rudeus had just fallen back asleep. Orsted was left staring at him, almost as if the boy was something he couldn’t understand. The man’s eyes were wide, and for once, a hint of naked emotion showed on his face.

Did that… did that smile mean what I think it might mean? He thought to himself. He had realized that, because the child was from a different world, perhaps there was a chance that his children or grandchildren could grow to freely, and genuinely provide him with something he had been missing ever since his mission had begun: friendship, true companionship. Not simply fleeting battle allies, which was the closest he usually came during loops.

“Even after such a mistake…” he murmured, sitting for a while and quietly watching over the sleeping boy before him, a gentle look in his eyes. Perhaps, for once, he could allow himself to enjoy this loop. He would not abandon it or rest, as he had in darker times… but even so, a simple thing like companionship might make all the difference. It would be most welcome.

Orsted’s gaze lingered on the boy’s sleeping form, but his mind replayed the clash from earlier. Having been in a party with the red-haired girl and the warrior, he would expect that the boy would have excellent aim, and as long as they were in front of him, an almost flawless awareness of his companions' positions. The modified stone bullet, while still impressive, he had at least expected.

The final spell the boy had cast, though... that had been impressive in a different way. It showed that the boy was a tactician, perhaps even showing the makings of a tactical genius. For a twelve-year-old boy to have come up with that on the fly?

Young Rudeus Notos Greyrat might just be able to change everything.

Orsted knew that Ruijerd would soon return tired and hungry. To make sure there was something warm waiting for him, he quietly walked over to the fire, pulled a bowl from one of his enchanted pockets, filled it with water, and set it on the rack to boil. While he waited, the Dragon god retrieved a returning dagger from the same pocket, intending to hunt for fresh meat while they remained stationary for the day.

Considering that the Superd warrior, Ruijerd Superdia, had not yet returned from the funeral pyre of his tribesman, Orsted was unwilling to leave the sleeping child defenseless and unguarded. He scanned the desolate landscape, searching for something he could easily hunt without going too far. He was willing to go down the hill, but no further.

As Orsted started circling the campsite, constantly scanning for something available, he saw the ground torn up from the battle that had taken place the night before. The shattered wooden palisade now looked like a cross between the most dangerous playhouse for a child and some sort of demented trap, its splintered logs jutting higher than a man, some landed angled skyward like giant spears. In the distance, he saw a ragged little village clinging to a small creek and idly wondered what it had been named in this loop.

At the top of the hill, with nothing to shield him, the wind was a relentless nuisance. It howled in his ears, forcing him to listen past its roar, and kept tugging at his coat as if determined to wrap it around his legs.

He listened closely for any rustling grass or digging sounds as the wind whipped around him, flinging his coat out behind him and to the side. After standing in silence for a few moments, he noticed a sound coming from the ruined palisade. In its ruined state, it was now an ideal home for any wild animal, now that he thought of it. Perhaps he could hunt there again before they needed to leave. 

Without a single word or sound, he threw the dagger and heard the death scream of whatever he had struck. He hadn’t seen it yet and only hoped it was edible.

He reached into the hole to retrieve the creature that had been frantically burrowing in a last attempt to vanish. His fingers brushed against spikes, and he frowned slightly at the sensation. Then, with effortless strength, he grasped whatever it was and drew it out of the dirt, dinner secured. No spikes in this world could pierce his skin anyway.

“Hm. You’ll do,” he told the deceased body of the bristleback he had killed. It was an amalgamation of a hog and a porcupine, and its meat was quite palatable. This creature would allow them to have fresh meat for several days. Carrying his prize, he moved back toward the campsite.

It would have been difficult for any other singular person to hunt this particular creature. The bristleback was known for its quills. It could both extend them when it felt threatened and shoot them at enemies as a last resort.

While still at the ruined palisade, Orsted had quickly gutted the creature with efficient, practiced cuts. The stench of blood and offal had filled the air, but he had ignored it, setting the entrails aside for scavengers, thinking that perhaps he could hunt again, before they left this place. Once the weight was lightened, he had slung the carcass over one shoulder and carried it back toward camp. He had done this to keep any mess away from camp; also, regardless of who he was, it was never a good idea to attract predators to where you were sleeping.

As he made his way back, a sharp boom split the stillness, echoing through the valley. Orsted’s head whipped toward the sound, his silver eyes narrowing as distant screaming echoed from the small village he had sighted earlier. For a long moment, he stood listening to the sounds, faintly grimacing, then he exhaled quietly, wondering what the village would be named this time, once the dust and blood had settled.

By the time Ruijerd returned to camp, Orsted had the animal, which could more precisely now be called meat, quartered, a bone boiling merrily away in the large pot along with some vegetables, and he was working on cutting the meat that he had set aside for the stew into bite-sized chunks.

He looked up as the quiet warrior stepped onto the gravel at the edge of camp. Orsted silently lifted a stone bowl, its sides still warm from boiled water, where the leftover porridge steamed faintly.

When the warrior made it back to camp, Orsted wordlessly handed him what remained of the porridge and told him to eat. Orsted didn’t think that Ruijerd Superdia would be ready to talk about it for a while, and he doubted he would be the one Ruijerd eventually went to, if he confided in anyone at all.

Ruijerd was too devastated and exhausted to even notice what the Dragon god was working on until he was a few bites into his food. “You’ve been hunting?” he asked quietly between bites, a little confused why the man would move very far away from the sleeping boy nearby.

Orsted inclined his head. “Yes, I have. The boy has already woken up once, eaten, and said a few words. I am… less concerned about his mental state now. Considering his throat, it was most reassuring to see him consume something.”

“In order to hunt,” he continued, “I simply went to the ruined palisade nearby that was destroyed last night. A bristleback was already attempting to take up residence there. Just in case, we should check that spot once more before we move forward. Something else may be trying the same thing by that time.”

Orsted took a careful look at Ruijerd’s face, meticulously noting every detail. His skin was a shade paler than usual, and there were deep bags under his eyes, which were redder than normal.

“You should get some rest as soon as you finish that. Drink some water before you sleep as well. You look as if you could use it.” Orsted was dimly surprised at the note of concern in his voice.

The warrior blinked at Orsted, almost as if coming out of a dream. He reached down to his waterskin and found it still full. “Ah.” He quickly unscrewed the cap and began to drink.

Orsted quietly thought that he was going to need to keep an eye on the Superd warrior. He had always been a good ally and a staunch fighter, and Orsted was determined not to see him fall. In the few loops he had gone through without Norn, the man, unfortunately, had killed himself out of grief and shame.

As he watched, Ruijerd finished eating and drinking, then headed over to his sleeping pallet and rolled himself up in his blanket without a word. Orsted sat there in silence, drinking a cup of tea, and occasionally adding things to another stew pot he had pulled from his pocket. From the same place, he took out a bottle of completed beef broth and poured it in. When a dish took time, he liked to work this way, preparing one meal while building the base for another.

A few hours later, the newly made pork broth was stored away, along with the bones of the bristleback and the remaining meat. The campsite was filled with the rich scent of fresh beef stew, and to Orsted’s quiet amusement, the sleeping child began sniffing at the tantalizing aroma in the air. His nose twitched like a little rabbit’s, the smell of stew slowly and gently teasing him out of a deep sleep.

Knowing the child would soon wake, Orsted quietly prepared something more fitting than dried bread. For Rudy, he set out a small plate of soft flatbread and poured cider for him to drink with his dinner.

Slowly, still sniffing all the while, Rudy began to stir. He shifted restlessly, let out a quiet groan, and then finally, bright green eyes blinked open.

Once he was fully awake, he stretched as far as he could and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Rolling onto his back, he pushed himself up and blinked sleepily at Orsted. For a moment, he only looked confused. Then, almost imperceptibly, his eyes widened as memory hit him like a cold wind. He drew in a deep, slow breath before his shoulders relaxed, and he smiled softly, almost shyly, at the Dragon god. “Good morning,” he said quietly. “That smells good.”

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking unintentionally childish as he did so, and carefully got up to take a few steps away from camp, only wobbling a little when he first set out. When he returned, looking far more refreshed, he hesitated for a moment, scanning the campsite as a faint sense of purpose returned. I should at least make us somewhere to sit. He grabbed his staff and, with practiced ease, conjured a stone table and three matching chairs.

Orsted raised an eyebrow as he silently observed the boy. He was glad that the distant screaming had tapered off before the boy woke; after last night, it was much better for him to wake to silence rather than screams.

He watched as the child silently conjured stone furniture for the three of them and could only marvel and quietly shake his head. If anyone else tried that, he thought to himself, they would most likely have to sit down for the rest of the day in order to recharge their magic. Rudeus Greyrat has such an incredible magical capacity, though, that I’m sure he doesn’t even feel tired.

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course. But oh, how he wished he could spend magic as if it were water the way the boy did. He would be able to use magic freely if it were not for the spell that allowed him to loop. He was, of course, grateful for his father’s last gift. Yet he still quietly dreamed of the things he might accomplish with that kind of magic capacity.

Orsted still wasn't quite sure how to deal with the child. Although he liked children quite a bit, ever since he had come to the human world, they had always only run from him. This child in particular was a delicate puzzle, however.

"Good evening," he gently corrected, motioning at the sky that was slowly turning a shade of bright orange. He did not want the child to lose his sense of time after sleeping so well, and for so long. "I see you are feeling better. Good. Do you think you might be ready to travel again tomorrow? We… were hurried throughout the last few days, after all, and can take a bit more time to recover if need be.”

Rudeus stood there for a moment, thinking. He nibbled his lip and shook his head slowly. "I can't be sure. I won't know how I'll feel tomorrow until tomorrow. Thank you for letting me rest today, and for… everything else. I… really needed it.”

Orsted took a bowl and began filling it with the fresh stew. When he was done, he carried it to the table along with the drink, then brought the bread as well. “Of course,” he told the boy as he set it down. Up close, he took a good look at the table young Rudeus had made.

“Impressive work, Rudeus Notos Greyrat. If I ever need some well-made stone furniture, I will know who to ask,” he said dryly. The boy had even added small artistic touches, like whorls along the arms of the chairs, so Orsted wasn’t exaggerating. “I must ask, how did you learn to do that?”

Rudy looked uncertain, as though he couldn’t decide whether he was being complimented, teased, or both. He tilted his head, then, deciding it didn’t matter, simply smiled and nodded.

“Yes, sir. And thank you. I started crafting stone figurines to help with both my magic capacity and my control when I was very young, and I just never stopped. Now, whenever I work with stone, if I visualize it, I can add little details like that.”

Orsted slowly blinked, surprised. "Figurines? I wish you to clarify what you mean." He sat down at the table as he requested an explanation.

Rudy looked up from reaching into his belt pouch, smiled a little, and then opened a different compartment on his belt.

“I’ll show you.”

He laid a spoon down on the table and reached into the new compartment, bringing out a tiny but remarkably accurate figure of Ruijerd. He set it carefully before them, pride flickering in his expression as he picked the spoon back up.

Noticing that he could eat without help, he focused intently, managing to bring the spoon to his mouth without spilling a drop.

"Hm." As Rudy started eating, Orsted made an impressed sound and started poking a gentle finger at the figurine. "This is finely done. And you did this solely for training? I can tell exactly who it is meant to be. Do you fashion figurines for friends and family alone?"

Rudy shook his head while he ate, swallowed, and then answered. "No, sir. That's how it started. Then I discovered that I really liked making them and that I was really good at it too. Believe it or not, it's just a modification of Stone Cannon. I've already sold one figurine in exchange for an Asuran gold, believe it or not."

"I can believe it. This is astounding craftsmanship. You do realize that if you wished to, you could go on to become a famous sculptor without sculpting a thing, correct?"

Rudeus chuckled a little and shrugged. "But I don't want to. There's so much more that I can do, and I promised myself when I was born again that I would not waste this life. Besides that," he motioned with his fork towards the little figurine, "is just something I did in my spare time. That figurine, however, means a little bit more… well, a lot more, actually. I want to get a story written and hopefully sell a book along with the figurine. It's part of my plan to... restore honor to the tribe."

A determined look came across the boy's face, and he scowled in the direction of where the mad one’s body had fallen. "It's not his or his tribe's fault that the cursed spears made them act like that." And if I keep repeating that to myself, hopefully I'll believe it before Ruijerd wakes up.

Orsted’s gaze followed the boy’s, but he already knew what young Rudeus was looking at. “No,” he intoned, “it is not.”

The boy had taken a few more bites before Orsted continued speaking, as gently as he could. “Why did you do that last night? You put yourself in immeasurable danger. Any mage, particularly one such as you, who cannot conjure any shred of battle aura should always stay behind the front line. No one can protect you, child, if you do not first protect yourself.”

Rudy ducked his head. “I know. I know it was stupid, I was stupid. Well, I got close because... I was fascinated by what you were doing. I had never seen anyone do anything like that, and it was... awe-inspiring. You didn't notice me moving because, well, you expected me not to move. And you were concentrating on subduing him, or putting him down.” Rudy shifted uncomfortably in his chair and ducked down a little more. “When a member of Ruijerd's tribe dropped like that, I thought his sanity was coming back, and maybe it almost did. I was... trying to help him.”

“Hm.” Orsted was unsatisfied with that answer. And he wanted to tell the boy something to make him hopefully always remember, and never intentionally put his life in danger again. 

“You should remember this before you put your life in mortal danger again. Just how will the people closest to you react when they find out that you have died from something so completely preventable? I know almost for a fact that Ruijerd would have been absolutely devastated, and his psyche is somewhat… delicate to begin with. Not to mention how Eris Boreas Greyrat would have reacted.” 

Orsted waited a moment to let that sink in. “Did not the two of you consummate your relationship only a few days ere now?”

As Orsted was speaking, Rudy dropped lower and lower in his chair as his shoulders crept up around his ears. “Yes, sir, yes, sir, I know.” Then Orsted finished his little speech, and at first Rudy just kept apologizing, promising not to do it again. Then all of a sudden, as the word, consummate burrowed into his brain. His ears turned red, his head popped up as his blush spread from his ears, flooding his face red all the way down to his chin before disappearing under his shirt.

“Wait, you heard that!? Ohhh gods.” Rudy squeezed his eyes shut tight and looked ready to hide his face in the stew.

Orsted blinked once, then gave a quiet hum. “If you wish, I can teach you a sound-dampening spell. It would spare you… and everyone else any… unnecessary inconvenience.” His tone was even, almost clinical; only the faint curve of his mouth betrayed a trace of amusement.

Rudy was too embarrassed to notice anything but his own plight, so for now, the fact that he had entertained the Dragon god went unremarked upon.

"Yes! Oh gods, please yes, and never mention it again, please?" Rudy spoke in a rush, almost too fast for Orsted to understand, especially because he had shoved his bowl aside and was hiding his blazing red face in his arms.

Momentarily, Orsted's shoulders shook, but he kept his amused reaction silent for the boy’s sake. He was still faintly smiling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out another spell scroll. For all his brilliance, this child remains the most disarming soul I have met in many loops.

A small hand darted out from the child’s hiding place and, quick as a thought, snatched the scroll, clutching it tight against his chest. “My precious,” he muttered… for some reason.

Eventually, hunger won out over embarrassment. Rudy slowly emerged like a turtle easing out from a shell and resumed eating his stew, trying to pretend as if that embarrassing episode hadn't happened. “This stew is amazing, by the way. Did you do something to the meat?”

“Yes. I killed it.”

Rudy blinked, cocking his head. There was a beat before the meaning clicked. “Oh! You went hunting.”

“Precisely. A bristleback attempted to make a new home in the destruction you wrought last night. It was easy to find and to dispatch. I am relieved that you have a good appetite and are enjoying the stew.”

Rudy, who had been valiantly suppressing a shudder at the very idea of being hunted and dispatched by the Dragon god, let an easy smile spread across his face. Considering everything, he was beginning to feel a fragile trust toward Orsted. Perhaps by saving his life, the Dragon god had proved once and for all, even to Rudy’s instincts, that he only wanted to protect him. Rudeus no longer felt afraid or jumpy around Orsted. On the contrary, he felt… safe. Almost as if, between the Dragon god and Ruijerd, he had found himself with the world’s scariest bodyguards.

“How are you faring with spell memorization?” Orsted asked, curious about his progress.

“Did you want me to memorize it… or just be able to cast it wordlessly?” Rudeus asked quietly, a faint crease forming between his brows.

“Depending on the season, you may have to cast it wordlessly at some points. It should be drier than usual right now, but weather patterns are… unpredictable, even for me.”

“In that case,” Rudy said thoughtfully, still sounding a little puzzled, “I guess I’m already done. I thought you wanted me to memorize the spell for some reason.”

One of Orsted’s eyes twitched, almost imperceptibly. “You do not need to memorize a spell in order to cast it wordlessly?” he asked, keeping his voice carefully even.

Rudy swallowed another bite before replying. “No. All you really need to do is remember how the magic feels and know how it works. Like, take the water-breathing spell, for instance. When I cast it, I’m remembering how the magic feels, and I’m also picturing the magic doing what the spell describes: in this case, transforming our lungs into something more like an amphibian’s. Here, I’ll show you.”

Rudy reached into his bag and pulled out the spell scroll, unrolling it as he did so. He laid it on the table and went over it line by line.

“O endless sea, womb of the world, reshape thy essence.

Let water flow as air, let depth yield to breath.

Where lungs falter, let life be rekindled.

Between wave and silence, between abyss and sky,

Grant this body breath eternal.”

Frowning faintly, he cast his mind back to a more unhappy time, when he was still living on Earth and had been a student in school.

“During science class, we actually dissected a frog,” Rudeus explained, “and I remembered what its lungs looked like, how they were different from the cat Mr. Lee accidentally ran over. He felt guilty about it, but he thought it was a learning experience for his students. He even got permission for us all to see.”

“I see. Very interesting,” the Dragon god confirmed, with the dry tone of a man who had been hauling heavy burdens by hand for years during a time when wagons existed. His face remained as unreadable as ever, but inwardly he felt the slow, heavy drag of centuries pressing down on him.

It seems we both the boy and I had blind spots that were holding us back. He tried not to think of just how much time he could have saved over countless loops by simply learning how the spell worked instead of spending so very long memorizing incantations as long as an entire set of books. The boy’s method, in contrast, was instinctual - natural in a way that made Orsted feel both admiration and something that might almost be envy. The few spells he had actually invented himself had taken ages to perfect, word by word, each syllable exact and painstaking.

If either method would work for both of them, he could finally help the boy overcome his visualization block when it came to healing magic by having him memorize the spells instead. It would also make Orsted’s own studies faster, perhaps immeasurably so.

“It seems you have quite the shortcut when it comes to casting and learning new spells,” he admitted at last. “I look forward to your tutelage, so that I may do the same. Well then, as long as you engage in quiet activities, the evening is yours.”

After Rudeus had finished eating and Orsted had cleared the table, the boy decided he was going to spend as much time as he could studying. He opened his study satchel once again and brought out his personal notes, as well as the manual on drawing magic circles, or “Step One,” as Orsted had called it.

As he started puzzling over the book, scratching his head as he did so, he barely even noticed Orsted gently taking his papers and thumbing through them. He nodded a few times, made a few marks, then his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

For a few moments, the Dragon god sat there, frozen, not sure if he should interject, but after mulling it over, he decided that this was a mistake that he couldn’t let get ingrained.

“Stop,” he said sharply, reaching out just before Rudeus could push an experimental pulse of mana through the broken array. A faint static crackle danced across the surface of the paper, then faded. “Your containment arc is three degrees short, and your amplification spiral begins too early. The flow cannot complete its circuit like that.”

Rudy blinked, bewildered. “Three degrees? It looked fine to me.”

“Look again,” Orsted said, picking up a piece of charcoal and sketching a clean line over Rudy’s. “The geometry of a circle is not about appearance; it is about balance. Every array has a center of equilibrium; lose it, and mana collapses inward rather than circulating. What you drew would have ruptured the instant you finished channeling.”

“So it’s not just shapes and runes, it’s… math,” Rudeus murmured, staring at the corrected line.

“Not just math,” Orsted said, tone softening. “It is calculus, ratios, flow. Magic is built upon movement: predictable movement. You have the instincts of a prodigy, but instincts cannot replace precision.”

“Ah,” Rudy said under his breath, eyes flicking up in understanding. “So bisekibun is called calculus here.”

His expression brightened slightly as the connection formed: gradients, rates of change, the flow of mana following a perfect curve. It all made sense now. He hadn't expected to find that kind of math here, but now that he understood what it was, he felt he could go a lot further with it.

Rudeus nodded sheepishly. “Guess I've been looking at it like it's a 2d picture, but it actually had stunning 3d graphics the whole time.”

“Then let us proceed properly this time,” the Dragon God said, choosing to ignore the child's strange way of freezing things. As long as he understood that was what mattered, he thought as he rolled up his sleeves. “We will start with gradient balance. And, Rudeus… do not ever attempt to channel through an unfinished array again.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy mumbled, as he shifted his chair so that he was a little closer to the Dragon god. 

By the time Ruijerd woke up with a start and a cry, about thirty minutes later, the two had their heads practically together. Orsted was in full lecture mode, using the book as a visual aid, while Rudy paid close attention and took very careful notes. When his friend cried out, Rudy looked up at once, dropped his charcoal where it wouldn’t break, and hurried over.

As he jogged closer, he got his first good look at Ruijerd’s face since the incident. He was his friend—he had protected him and Eris all across the Demon Continent. Still, Rudy faltered for a moment before forcing himself forward through sheer will. It’s Ruijerd. He won’t hurt me, he told himself again and again. 

He tried very hard not to think about their recent nighttime conversation, but even then, Ruijerd had held himself back, only scared him a little, and convinced him that if he wanted to have any sort of relationship with the man, he needed to reveal everything. Since then, the man had almost been like a father. Since then, the man had been almost like a father. He could trust him. He would trust him.

As the child was running, Orsted had a good view of his face in the flickering firelight. For a brief moment, almost too quickly to notice, he saw fear flash across the boy’s countenance before it smoothed out. After what had happened the previous night, such a reaction was natural, even healthy. As the child took the last few steps toward the warrior, Orsted recognized that something of a battle had taken place in the boy's mind, and Rudeus had won.

It was a strange thing to observe, particularly because the boy was no longer afraid of him, now apparently. That particular otherworlder had a very unique ability to shake off fear, even the fear of death, if given a reason.

Rudy slowed as he started to cover the last few feet to his friend. He wasn’t sure how to approach him. He knew that this was a centuries-old hurt, and that the pain had come roaring back along with the tragedy. For the first time, a part of him began to hate Laplace.

He saw Ruijerd’s hands dig into his bald head, still shaved smooth for the sake of others, so they would not fear him, and Rudy’s heart went out, not only to Ruijerd, but to that entire persecuted race. He sped back up and, quick as a thought, threw his arms around the older man.

He was an idiot for being afraid before. This was Ruijerd, after all, someone who had never, and would never, hurt him, not even after he had been given reason to. 

It was as if someone’s brother had become a murderer, while the man himself continued to be a gentle caretaker for an orphanage. It wasn’t Ruijerd's fault that his brother was a monster. More than that, it wasn’t any of their faults: not even the one who had just died, that they were cursed. 

As Rudy collided with the startled warrior, he immediately threw his arms around his waist, hugging him for all he was worth. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The embrace said it all: I’m here for you. I’m not afraid. I trust you. Even: I love you.

Rudy held on tight as the warrior’s arms touched his back, carefully at first, hesitating, almost afraid, and then, with a strangled scream, Ruijerd embraced him fully, pulling him close and wept bitterly into his shoulder. Rudy stayed quiet, holding him just as tightly, as sympathetic tears slipped down his own cheeks. He knew there were times when words only cheapened grief. Silence was better. Presence was everything.

He didn’t think anyone had been there for Ruijerd when he first woke from his curse. If anything, the man had probably had to fight his way out of his own tribe. Rudy resolved then and there that, for as long as he drew breath, he would be there for him. He was determined that Ruijerd would know happiness again, and he would move heaven and earth to make it so.

Orsted could only watch in silence as, for the first time in centuries, he saw someone simply be there for the warrior. He knew the child had fought down fear and then embraced that very source of fear.  He could only marvel at the incredible capacity that boy had to forgive and to love.

When Orsted had realized just how much he’d hurt the boy during questioning, he had nearly released him then and there and was seriously considering abandoning the loop. Only the knowledge that Rudeus, if freed, could become a very dangerous enemy had made him keep the boy there.

When he visited him the next day, he had expected curses, accusations… hatred. But all the boy had done was ask two very reasonable questions: “Why do you hate the man-god so much?” and, more importantly, “If you don’t like my answers, will you kill me?”

Orsted had told him the unvarnished truth when he said, “I do not think I could.”

How could he give any other answer to a boy he had nearly killed, and then, as if that weren’t enough, had tortured, who stood wrapped in a nightmare-repelling blanket, trembling, clearly expecting pain and death? Yet somehow, just a few minutes ago, that same boy had been sitting beside him, listening intently, absorbing every word like a little sponge.

Between Nanahoshi and Rudeus, Orsted knew that even if he lost this loop, it would always be precious to him. In this loop, he could at least have a few normal relationships. Nanahoshi was a precious friend of his, but she hadn’t been through the suspicion and all the stress, physical and mental, unfortunately, Rudeus had, and even worse, at his own hand.

Rudeus had been given every single reason to hate him, and somehow… he didn’t. Most importantly, he never did. In all their associations, he had never seen any rage or hatred in the boy’s eyes, only hurt and fear… then, when he learned what was going on, consideration. Was his capacity for forgiveness really enormous enough to forgive even that? He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. No, the boy might allow him to teach him, but he would never trust him, not really. He might not flinch away anymore, but he had seen the boy that first morning. No one with that much fear in their eyes could ever truly trust the one who put that fear there.

Neither the warrior nor the boy moved away from each other for a long time. Both of their shoulders shook as they clung to one another. When they had both calmed down, Rudeus gently pulled back, still holding on to Ruijerd’s shoulders.

“Why don’t we share the blanket for tonight, okay? I can stretch it lengthwise, and we can sleep back to back.”

Rudy could almost see the battle going on behind the warrior’s eyes: a battle between the warrior who wanted to remain strong and the man who desperately needed comfort. Finally, the man won, at least temporarily, and nodded wordlessly. He watched quietly as Rudy went back over to his pallet and dragged it over so that they were side by side.

Rudy softly told him to lie back down, and when he did, gently told him to turn over to his side, then spread half the blanket over the man.

Ruijerd had just enough time, before the blanket knocked him out, to mutter a quiet, “...Remarkable,” at how quickly the enchantment was pulling him under.

Having been on the other side of the enchantment for once, Rudy was surprised by how fast it worked. “Huh, I guess it really does knock you out,” the boy muttered, fascinated, as he stood over his sleeping friend.

He quietly gathered the dishes, and as he moved, he noticed for the first time that his clothing was stiff. Looking down in the fading light, he was startled by his appearance. He was absolutely covered in dried blood. It almost looked as if he had dyed his shirt with it.

“Oh, that’s gross.”

Without another word, the boy shrugged off his shirt and raised his hand, bringing panels of stone up from the earth to form a small tent. Orsted could only blink in fascination as he watched the boy disappear inside the “tent” and reappear a little while later in different clothes and with slightly damp hair. Most importantly, the boy was clean.

Rudy waved a hand over the ground and made it birth an ice bucket, simultaneously filled it with water, then put his old clothes, including the vest, inside. Afterward, he collected some ash from the fire along with a bit of fat from his small jar and blended them together to make a cleaning agent. 

Carefully, he took the fur vest out of the water and began scrubbing it, muttering curses as he worked. When the blood had faded to an old stain rather than a new one, he threw the vest over a low branch of a spindly tree that girl just above head height. Finally, he whipped up a localized windstorm to help it dry faster so it would be ready by morning.

Chores finished, he sighed, deciding to keep the wind blowing as long as he could, and trudged back over to the flabbergasted Dragon god.

As Rudy sat back down with a little sigh, Orsted could only ask in a slightly strangled voice, “Just how many spells have you created?”

Rudy sat very still for a moment, not exactly sure how to answer. “Um… a lot? I kind of just make what I need these days.”

Orsted opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Have you written down the incantations, or the process you use to shape them? It seems as if your spells could be very useful to common people.”

Rudy shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. “At first I didn’t think of it, and now I don’t have the time.”

Orsted closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath, calming himself. “Then see to it that someone records them on your behalf. If you lack a suitable scribe, your younger sister Aisha would be more than capable. Spells to clean clothes, spells to clean yourself, things such as these do not exist, and many people would find them highly useful. Also, spells to make water trickle into your hand to fill a glass, small conveniences of that nature, could revolutionize different aspects of the world.”

He gave the boy a severe look. “You must not ever share anything lethal.”

“Well, I was planning on sharing with Eris and Ghislaine as soon as I found the words,” Rudeus admitted quietly as he continued to feed mana into the blowing wind.

Orsted inclined his head. “Sharing knowledge with allies is fine. But how to cast lethal spells should never be written down. Make sure that knowledge dies with you. You may teach the methods to your children, should you have them, but not the words. I am sure you will ensure any children you have will be fully versed in wordless magic.”

Rudy made a small face. He hadn’t thought about that yet, and he really didn’t want to make the world more lethal than it already was.

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure they never get written down, or if they are, they’re destroyed shortly after. And there are certain spells I don’t plan on ever sharing with anyone.”

As he thought about future children, Rudy couldn’t help but smile a little, even with everything that had happened to him recently. “And yes, I do plan on eventually passing down the knowledge of how to cast wordlessly to my children. And if I figure out exactly why other people can’t do it, I don’t see any reason not to share that knowledge with the world.”

“Do you have any working theories?” Orsted shifted a bit in his chair to better face the boy.

Rudy was silent for a few moments as he considered how to phrase his hypothesis. “I’d imagine there’s some sort of cutoff. I learned when I was three, and Sylphie learned when she was five. I know children start school in this world around seven or eight, but I imagine they learn other things before they start learning magic. My best guess would be either eight, nine, or ten years old. If you try to learn it after that point, it’s a lot harder, or even impossible.”

Orsted made a small sound of surprise. The boy had a very logical mind. For once, he thought, it seems I have found myself a student who might actually be a pleasure to teach.

“That… is a very astute guess. I am impressed. It is possible to learn wordless magic after one turns ten, but it is extremely difficult. The younger one is when they start learning, the better.”

Rudy sat in silence for just a moment, thinking about that before he realized he needed to ask something.

“In… that case, would it be all right if I at least got my sisters started on it while we’re in Millis? They’ll both be there, and I’m not sure when I’ll have another opportunity to see them.”

Orsted agreeably inclined his head. “Of course. That would be a good idea. I am sure your sisters would appreciate the intervention, as well as your father.”

The boy started fidgeting in his chair. “Aisha definitely would. Norn kind of hates me, though.”

One of Orsted’s eyebrows raised. “Why in the world would you say that?”

“Well, when I was passing through Millis on the way home, I had a… misunderstanding with Father. She had to separate us and apparently thinks I’m just some kind of thug.”

Rudy tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out thin and uncertain.

He stared down at the smooth stone tabletop he’d shaped himself, tracing the faint swirl marks left by his magic with one finger.

The silence stretched between the boy and the sage like a cloak, only to be broken by sudden shouts of men and the clash of metal as a fire flared somewhere nearby. Rudy jumped at the sound, but Orsted simply laid a hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Hopefully, they will sense my aura before they attack and think better of their decision, because we are likely next. Otherwise, I am perfectly capable of taking care of them before they reach you or your friend.”

He glanced at the boy, then added quietly, “You still need sleep. Go lie down. We can continue your tutelage tomorrow night while we camp, if you wish.”

Rudy looked reluctant at first, then met Orsted’s calm gaze. Unwilling to argue, he nodded and began gathering his study materials. He slipped everything back into his study pack on his belt bag, then, still looking toward the Dragon god in askance, wished him a quiet good night and hurried off to his sleeping pallet.

Ruijerd was already asleep, half-covered by the nightmare-repelling blanket. Rudy moved quietly, making sure not to disturb him. He fetched one of his other blankets from his pack, spread it over his friend to cover what the first did not, and then lay down himself with his back pressed gently against Ruijerd’s. Finally, he drew part of the enchanted blanket over his own torso.

He managed to resist the enchantment’s pull for a moment this time, but not for long. Sleep claimed him quickly.

Orsted sat watching the two of them for a few minutes before finally drawing both swords and laying them bare on the table in front of him, ready to seize if needed. He already wore his coat, so there would be no mistaking who he was. Lowering his hood, the Dragon god stared into the darkness beyond, his silver eyes cold and unyielding.

***

The next morning, Rudy woke to the sun in his eyes and the sound of weeping. For a moment, he was too disoriented to figure out what that strange sound was. Then it dawned on him, and he sat up, with wide eyes as he frantically looked around. The first thing he saw was that Ruijerd was already up and about, attending to something involving a small bundle of people at the far end of the camp. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, trying to make sense of what was happening as he got up.

Orsted immediately noticed when the boy rose to his feet. “Ah, good. You are awake,” he said evenly. “We had some… unexpected guests during the night. This group here were victims of the bandits who attempted to both enslave us and, of course, abscond with our belongings. I am preparing something warm for them to eat before we depart.”

He looked back toward the terrified, huddled gaggle of people… and beyond them, to the trail of bodies leading away from camp. The bandits had been alive until earlier; upon learning what had happened, Ruijerd had put them down the moment he woke.

“What… happened?” Rudy asked softly, already hovering a hand over the ground to shape a bowl and glass for each of the survivors.

“Ah,” Orsted replied, his tone measured. “The bandits approached the camp, panicked, and fled. Several suffered sprained ankles, some broke limbs, still others fell upon their own blades. I did not have to lift a weapon. The enslaved among them elected to remain close, finding safety within the reach of my aura. I have promised we will leave them in the first village we find.”

“O-oh,” Rudy could only stammer. His gaze followed the faint trail down the hill… the twisted shapes of bodies lying where they had fallen, the smear of trampled earth marking their flight. The realization hit him like a blow: Orsted hadn’t even needed to fight. His presence alone had done this.

For the first time, it truly sank in, just how much courage it must have taken for Ruijerd and Eris to stand by him, to face a man with such a terrifying aura and still call him their companion. The thought left him humbled, and oddly proud.

After Ruijerd had freed all the captives and gotten them to line up, he came over to Rudy’s little workstation and began gathering cups, handing them out to the people. Once Rudy finished making the bowls, he carried them over to Orsted, who filled each one without a word with fresh porridge flavored with scraps of meat and bits of fruit. Rudy then started handing out the bowls, filling each cup with fresh, clear water as he went. The captives watched in hushed fascination, having never seen magic cast completely silently before.

To his embarrassment, and their own, he noticed that a few of the young women weren’t… as well dressed as they should be. Without a word, as soon as he was done serving the porridge, he reached into his supply pack for extra clothes and blankets, passing them out to the least covered.

All in all, there were about ten prisoners. They were a pitiful sight: with faces that were streaked with tear tracks cutting pale lines through soot and mud, clothes torn or half-burned, bare feet caked in dirt. Rope burns marred wrists and ankles, and the air around them still carried the faint, acrid scent of smoke. 

A few glanced up as Ruijerd passed, but their eyes held only dull exhaustion, not fear. Most stared blankly at the bowls in their hands, too numb to cry anymore.

Most of the former prisoners were women, but there were also a few boys, one very small girl, and even a toddler who could barely walk. Not a single person among them was uninjured. After handing out what clothing and blankets he could spare, Rudy knelt and began healing them, one by one.

As he worked, Ruijerd spoke with a few of the stronger ones, asking where they came from and what had happened. The least shell-shocked woman answered quietly that they were from a small nearby village. All the men had been killed, she said, and they were the only survivors.

Seeing and hearing that woman answer Ruijerd, Rudy figured she would probably be the one to ask about his idea. He carefully stepped over to her and quietly cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Um, ma’am? If you would like, I can make a bathing area for all of you, a place where you can clean yourselves up."

The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes lit up. Still, she asked, "Isn’t that too big of a job for one little mage? If you can do it, though, we’d appreciate it. I could tell your magic is amazing, I saw you fill all those water glasses."

Rudy almost laughed. "Oh, don’t worry, ma’am. I still have plenty of mana left." He could already smell leftover stew warming in the air and figured that was probably their breakfast. His stomach growled, and he gave the woman a slightly sheepish smile. "I’ll do it right after breakfast," he promised as he padded back toward that delicious smell.

Orsted had reheated the stew from the night before, adding eggs and milk, thickening it with torn pieces of bread. All in all, it wasn’t a bad breakfast. Rudy ate quickly, barely tasting the food, then grabbed his staff and got to work.

Before long, it was done. There was a little bathing area screened in with stone panels. The bathing area was equipped with four basins that one or two people could lie down in, filled with warm, soothing water that came up to a grown person's chest. More than one woman burst into tears when she saw it, and one woman with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes took the time to give him a thankful embrace before she disappeared inside the bathing area.

As they bathed, Rudy quietly worked on patching up a few of the worst sets of clothing as best he could with needle and thread, using bits of cloth from a hopeless outfit. For one particular woman, a tiny little blonde thing who painfully reminded him a bit of Roxy, he was making a skirt out of one of the spare blankets. Paired with his spare linen shirt, it would suffice.

Because he wasn’t exactly sure how big the girl was around the waist, and didn’t dare ask to measure, he added a few buttons and buttonholes so she could choose the right fit. It was rather thick for a skirt, of course, but it would do. In the end, all he could offer was restored modesty and dignity, but to them, it was more than enough.

Rudy planned to give her his old, freshly laundered shirt, though it still bore a faded dark red mark. Of course, it didn’t hold the same memories for her that it would have for him if he’d kept wearing it. Orsted had already mentioned that they should probably stop by the nearest village market for more supplies, so Rudy didn’t feel bad about giving it up.

As he worked, Ruijerd eventually came and sat beside him, draping an arm around his shoulder as he did so. “I am so incredibly proud of you for thinking of this.” Rudy could only smile and bashfully thank him.

“Honestly, sir? We could probably get them moving today, but they wouldn’t get far, and they wouldn’t be properly equipped. I’d rather take the time to make them some shoes and wash their clothes. If we do that now, we can make up the time tomorrow. The ground here is full of thorns, and some don’t have any shoes at all. Most only have one, and I’ve only seen two people with a full pair.”

Orsted inclined his head. “I was thinking the same thing. In the long run, we’ll probably move faster if we make sure everyone is properly provided for, particularly shoes.” He paused, studying the boy for a moment. “What are your plans for that? Do you have the materials you need?”

Rudy looked thoughtful. “There’s some scrap wood from the palisade I can work with, but I was thinking stone might hold up better. Maybe light stone, padded with grass so it’s not hard on their feet.”

Ruijerd had been silent until that point, but he finally spoke. “I would like to take them to the most secure place we can. I wish we were closer to the border. Is there at least a reasonably safe place where we can leave them along the way?”

The border, at this point, was about four or five days behind them. They had only made it as far as they had so quickly because they’d been driven hard by a hunting-mad Superd.

Orsted gave a heavy sigh. “It will slow us down quite a bit, but I suppose we have no choice. The most stable and safest place, aside from the border town, is actually surprisingly close to our destination. It is called Laketown. If I am still correct, I am somewhat familiar with the leader there. He is a competent man, something… rather rare in the Strife Zone.”

“Okay, so first of all, I’m going to wash these clothes.” As he spoke, Rudy began gathering up the clothing and torn bits of fabric, wanting everything clean before they moved on. Once he had them all in hand, he tossed the bundle into the air and caught it with a wind spell, cycling the cloth above him in slow circles. He sprinkled in a bit of dust, then warm water, followed by a touch of his homemade soap, rendered fat mixed with soot, and watched as everything swirled together in a perfect, magical wash cycle. His control was so precise that not a single drop of water escaped.

Ruijerd resumed guarding the area, and, not incidentally, the women, as though he were used to such displays. He sat motionless at the entrance to the bathing area, unfazed by the clothes whirling overhead.

Orsted, however, could only stare in quiet bafflement. He had, of course, never seen clothing washed by mechanical means before, and certainly had never seen Rudeus apply magic to anything so domestic. After several minutes of silent observation, his eyes narrowed as he tried to solve the puzzle before him. Finally, he asked, his voice as flat as ever, “Why are you magically juggling clothes?”

Rudeus blinked up at him, then couldn’t help the snort that escaped. It was tired, amused, and a little exasperated. “Sir, I’m washing them using magic. We have something called a washing machine in my old world. I’m just acting like the machine, or rather, my magic is. I even added a little bit of dirt to act as an abrasive.”

Orsted raised one eyebrow, still looking up at the whirling clothes above their heads. “Effective,” he said at last, “but wasteful. Still, it is an elegant solution to a problem those people would have faced. Tell me of these washing machines you speak of from your former world.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s wasteful at all,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “A washing machine is a…” He paused, searching for the right words. “…a box you put clothes into, fill with water, and it has an agitator in the middle that moves around. When you add a washing solution, it cleans the clothes. I used dust as the agitator and my homemade soap as the solution.”

“Hmm.” Orsted made a quiet sound, eyes narrowing in thought. “Do you wish to make that one of your projects? It would serve as a useful exercise in studying the principles of runes and magic circles, to craft a magical device without venturing into the dangerously intricate nature…” He glanced toward the bathing area and cleared his throat softly. “…of the other artifacts I will one day require of you. Such a design, if refined properly, could even be sold to the Magic Guild. You could collect a commission for each reproduction made.”

Rudy lit up like a Christmas tree. “You wouldn’t mind? That would actually be perfect! I could help fund the Fittoa restoration, and maybe have a bit of mad money as well.” The boy could barely contain his grin as he thought of it.

“I know that Lilia, at least, would thank me if I did develop something like that. And I think a bunch of housewives, mothers, and even single people might as well.” Rudy was nodding like the excited child he was as he contemplated all that, then looked up at Orsted with a grin. “Let’s do it!”

Orsted inclined his head, a faintly puzzled look crossing his face. “What is ‘mad money’? Nanahoshi referred to the same thing once. I asked her what it meant, but she merely laughed and refused to explain. I believe she may have been… embarrassed.”

Rudy actually chuckled. “It’s money you can use for anything you really want to. If you have a budget, it’s the money that isn’t part of it. It’s something you can spend on any ridiculous thing you like. That’s why it’s called mad money.”

“…I see. I do not understand why she would have been embarrassed by that concept, but no matter.” Orsted’s gaze drifted briefly toward the whirling laundry before returning to Rudeus. “A ‘washing machine’ may be a bit too complex for your first implementation. You should begin with something simpler for your initial use of runes and magic circles. You have time; it will likely be several weeks before you’re ready, even if we study every night. “You have time; it will likely be several weeks before you are ready, even if we study every night. Would a nightly lesson suit you, unless injury or exhaustion intervene?”

Rudy nodded eagerly. "Yes, please. Everything's a little bit too complicated for me to understand on my own." He sat there for about two more minutes as he watched the clothing cycling through the air above his head, then motioned with one hand for one particular shirt, the worst of the lot, to float down where he could examine it. He caught it by the collar, sniffed it, rubbed the fabric between his fingers, and nodded to himself. "Hmm, okay. Feels clean enough. Time to start the rinse cycle!"

With another motion of his hand, he sent the shirt back up into the controlled circle of cycling clothing above them, and all the dirty water, filled with blood, grime, and things he preferred not to think too hard about, was sent down the hill. Rudy then drew in fresh water to begin rinsing everything.

"Oh yeah," he said, turning back to Orsted, "you mentioned going for supplies relatively soon? We definitely need more fat now. I've used too much of it for soap. We could use more blankets as well, actually, probably more of everything... including at least one change of clothing for them, so that if I have to wash clothes again, they won't be sitting naked like they are now."

Orsted inclined his head, his tone thoughtful rather than commanding. "Yes. And hunting would be prudent as well. If Ruijerd Superdia and I go, do you believe you can manage everything here?"

Rudy nodded thoughtfully as he started experimenting with making stone soles, molding them around his feet as he did. "Yeowch! That's cold!" he yelped, jerking back. "Yeah, that would be fine. And if you wouldn't mind, could you maybe pick up grass that’s long enough to be woven together? Or vines, or... something," he added, spreading his hands in a universal ‘I don’t know what I need’ gesture and shrugging. "Something I can use to help make shoes?"

Ruijerd snorted and patted him on the shoulder. "We'll bring back whatever we find that could be useful."

“Thanks. If it’s the two of you going, I doubt anything within ten miles will be left breathing, if it's edible.” Rudy tried to smile, but part of him wasn’t joking.

Ruijerd chuckled quietly as he got up. "We'll try, but no promises." With another clap on the shoulder from one and a nod from the other, the two started down the hill.

The splashes and voices coming from the bathing area grew quiet for a few minutes. Rudy simply began humming to himself and eventually started the drying cycle. After a while, a small, tremulous voice called out, "I–is a–anyone left o–out there?"

Rudeus immediately spoke up, his tone gentle but steady. "Oh yes, ma’am. I’m still here. I’ve been working on mending and washing your clothes out here. They’re almost ready, so you can collect them anytime. If you’d like, I can also cycle some warm air in there to help you dry off. When everything’s clean, would it be alright if I made a container for your clothes and used a bit of magic to lift it into the bathing area?”

For a moment, there was a small cacophony of voices, then the same woman who had seemed in charge earlier called back, "Yes, please… if you wouldn’t mind. You washed our clothes? How?"

"I used magic," Rudy replied. "And I can use wordless magic. That’s why you didn’t hear a spell."

"Stars above! And you’re how old, child?"

Rudy laughed softly at the puzzled tone in her voice. "I’m twelve. My name’s Rudeus Greyrat, by the way. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

There was a startled gasp from the other side of the stone partition. “Twelve? You’re far too young to be out here alone! Where’s your village? Are you really traveling through this place?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, still gentle. “We have something important we have to reach, so… we’re just passing through.”

Rudy felt he would probably be safe enough telling her that much. After he finished, there was a short pause where there was only silence as the woman was probably staring at the partition, confused. As he motioned at the same shirt to check whether or not the clothes were getting dry, she finally spoke again.

"I don't know what in the world you three could possibly want anywhere in the Strife Zone, but I wish you luck. Oh, I'm sorry, you had introduced yourself earlier. My name is Neera. I can't describe just how relieved I am that I'm with someone like you rather than..." She paused and took a shaky breath. "Them."

He was silent for about a minute as he checked the clothes for dampness and thought about what to say. "Well, don't worry about anything like that. Not to brag… I may be young, but from a distance, I could probably wipe out an army. All of you are safe. Ruijerd got Eris and me across the Demon Continent when the teleportation disaster happened, and Orsted... is the Dragon god."

"...” There was only silence from the other side of the partition. Apparently, what he told her was too shocking for any sort of response.

Rudy made a laundry basket grow out of the ground, and as if he was taking clothes off a drying line, grabbed them one by one out of the air and deposited them in the basket. He then made the entire basket hover in the air and very carefully levitated it up and over the partitions and into the bathing area. "There's your clothes, ladies!”

Much murmuring followed that announcement. There were a few exclamations of surprise that their clothes had come out that well, and one woman even started crying again. Neera announced that they were safe and repeated everything Rudy had said about the strength of their group. When she mentioned the Dragon god, however, one woman screamed.

"The number two!? The one with the silver hair is number two? Well, no wonder they reacted how they did! And no wonder we reacted like we did! That aura is... utterly terrifying!"

Rudeus had to raise his voice a little to be heard. “Yes, ma’am. It’s something he was cursed with at birth. He has no control over it.”

There was a short pause, followed by the sound of hushed whispers behind the stone panels. Rudy decided to move on before they got too nervous again.

“After you’re all decent,” he added carefully, “I can come in and use magic to cycle warm air through the room so you can dry off. It’s gentler that way, and no one will catch a chill.”

A few voices sounded quite pleased with that proposition, but the same woman from before spoke up again. "You should save your mana, little fool! I don't care how much you have! It's a waste! You're apparently in charge of guarding us right now, and you don't have the terrifying aura that the so-called Dragon god does. Besides, no spell like that exists!"

"I almost never run out of mana anymore, and the Dragon god himself said that I probably have about as much mana as Laplace did. So that’s not really something I need to worry about. And… I invented the spell I was proposing, so I wouldn’t expect you to have ever heard of it… ma’am."

Rudy kept his tone respectful, but he couldn’t quite stop a trace of mockery from slipping into his voice.

"Ussa! You aren't the chief's wife anymore! You should address the young man with respect. If you wouldn't mind, young man, and if it wouldn't tax you too much, then yes, please. The rest of you, stop staring and get dressed so he can come in and dry us off."

Ussa scoffed. “Tch, well… you got your voice back quicker than I thought you would. Too bad.”

A sharp slap sounded from somewhere in the bathing area, followed by a low hiss of, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that!”

Rudy could only cringe. "No violence, please. You've all been through something horrible, and you should be recovering and helping each other, not..."

"Oh, you don't know Ussa. She was the chief's wife, and she lorded it over all of us. Now that she doesn't have his protection anymore, she's going to have to behave if she doesn't want to get beaten.”

There was a short pause, then the woman's voice softened.

"But of course you couldn't know that. My apologies. I'm Eri, by the way, and thank you for everything you've been doing for us. The next time the men go hunting, I would like to volunteer to go with them. I am a former adventurer after all."

Rudeus blinked, amused despite himself. ‘Eri’ of all names. Maybe the world just liked giving that name to women who refused to break.

"Oh really?" Rudy was rather proud of himself, that the only sign of his amusement was his voice rising half a pitch. "You don't say? I actually have a girlfriend back home named Eris. She's already a Sword Saint. Ghislaine, her instructor, is there too, and she's a Sword King."

The woman snorted, inelegantly. "You keep some interesting company… it was Rudeus, right?"

After he confirmed it, there was a brief pause. 

"All right. It looks like everyone's dressed except the little boy. Ussa’s too busy huffing and pouting to dress him right now."

"I am not! Kai, come here."

The other women began quietly tittering as Rudy stood and made his way into the bathing area. Once there, he immediately formed a line of stone benches along the partitions and sent a gentle current of warm air through the space.

A tall, athletic-looking woman with porcelain skin and cropped reddish-brown hair stepped toward him, and he could barely keep a straight face.

"Eri, right?"

The woman blinked at him, confused. "Yes, how did you know?"

"...Just had a feeling.”

There has to be something about this world and red-haired women named anything close to Eris, he thought to himself as he sat down beside the self-named Eri and settled in for a few more minutes of steady magic use.

A woman with long dark brown hair and ice blue eyes, the same one who’d hugged him earlier for creating the baths, came over and sat on his other side, tying her hair into a braid as she did so. Rudy quietly observed the group as he worked. Most of the children looked young enough to perhaps learn wordless magic, though he wasn’t sure how to ask about their parents without sounding odd.

In the end, he simply raised his voice and addressed the room. "If anyone would like to try it, I do have some ideas about how you can learn wordless magic. I think there’s an age cutoff, but anyone’s welcome to try. It could put you in a good position once you grow up because it's not something you forget how to do.”

The oldest-looking child raised his chin defiantly. “I don’t want to. I’m going to be a warrior like my father.”

“Well, you probably should still learn the spell I’m going to teach you,” Rudy said evenly. “It can be used for survival, and if you have a container, you’ll never be without water.” He knew he was baiting the boy a little, but he also wanted to find out just how old each child was. “So first of all, I’d like to know all your ages.”

Four little voices, and a fifth, slightly louder, all answered at once, leaving Rudy completely unable to tell who’d said what. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! My mistake. I’ll point, and you tell me your name and age, all right?” A few children giggled at that statement, realizing that he hadn't heard them, and he was a little overwhelmed.

He pointed to the smallest child, a little girl with brown hair and bright eyes.

The little girl jumped up exuberantly. “Me Miri! I dis many.” She held up four tiny fingers once she decided which ones to raise.

Rudy grinned, shaking her tiny hand. “Nice to meet you, Miri.” Then he pointed to the next child - a little boy with curly brown hair and serious eyes.

“I’m Ranma, and I’m six. Can you really teach me magic?”

“As long as you’re willing to try,” Rudy said, smiling. “I certainly can.”

“All right,” he continued, twirling his finger in a wide circle as if he couldn’t decide who to pick next. The children giggled at his antics before he finally pointed to an older-looking boy.

“I’m Theo! I’m eight! Do you think I could be an adventurer magician?”

Rudy’s smile softened. “Well, I was one just a year ago, and I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t be. Even if you can’t cast wordlessly, you can always shorten the incantation.”

Then he turned to the last boy, the defiant one. “So… do you want to join us?”

The boy had looked down and away as Rudy was finding out all their ages, then finally huffed. “I’m Matthias. I’m ten. Is this something that, even if I can’t do it, I could still use it?” The boy had his arms crossed in a manner that reminded Rudy somewhat of Eris when she was a child.

“Oh yes, even if you can’t learn to cast the spell wordlessly, it would still be super useful for an adventurer. It’s a water ball spell, and you can use it either for drinking water or as a distraction to get away from something.”

“…That would’ve been handy…” the boy muttered as he wiped his nose. “Okay. I guess I’ll learn it. But this doesn’t mean you’re smarter or better than me, got it?”

“Got it. And it’s nice to meet you.” Rudy smiled, trying not to show his amusement at the boy. Kid, do you think I would be with the Dragon god if I wasn't impressive? 

He turned to the women who had all sat down to observe the proceedings. “Do any of you ladies want to try? You could still learn the spell; it’s super useful, and I have more than just that. Why, by the time we get to where we’re going, I might have you half-trained as mages! I can teach you spells that’ll conjure water or heal you or your friends if you get hurt.”

A girl of about sixteen stepped forward hesitantly. She had light brown hair and green eyes that reminded him of… himself, honestly. As he looked at her, Rudy had to wonder if his father had ever spent time in the Strife Zone. Well, he thought to himself, at least if she is, Paul didn’t do anything wrong this time. And he’s already told us we probably have siblings in other places. For me to run into one here, though… doesn’t bode well for you, old man.

She spoke up with an extremely tremulous voice; she was very, very quiet. “I I-I’m T–Tira, sixteen. T–thank y–you for m–my n–n–new s–skirt.”

Rudy almost wanted to hug her, but he knew that would probably scare her. He swallowed hard as he noticed how she was holding herself, her hands trembling whenever they weren’t gripping her own arms. He carefully kept his face neutral as he nodded to her. “Of course.”

He was planning on asking her questions about who her mother was later, when she wasn’t so absolutely terrified. For now, he didn’t try to touch her in any way, but he did have to ask one more question.

“Tira, I just want to make sure, do you hurt anywhere else? I only cast a beginner healing spell on you because I thought… that was all you needed. I do have an intermediate spell memorized, though, if you need it.”

The girl looked up at him momentarily, with hope in her eyes, swallowed, then quickly nodded. Without another word, Rudy muttered the incantation for Shine Healing over her and watched as she slumped over, nearly asleep from the relief of finally being free of pain.

Rudy had barely looked away from her when he noticed a small line of women staring at him with equal parts hope and fear. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it slowly, swallowing hard. Without another word, he muttered the incantation over each of them as well. He managed to hold back tears, but only just. Of the ten women there, five needed extra healing: Neera, Eri, two girls who looked like sisters - Sanya, twenty-three, and Marin, eighteen, both with long wavy chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes and a similarly light complexion, and Tira, whom he had tended earlier and who might actually be his half sister. The thought of someone related to him going through that was… unbearable; if she was, he was going to absolutely kick Paul’s ass when they finally met again.

As one, the women slumped against each other, faint smiles softening their faces now that the pain was finally gone. Rudy didn’t want to dwell on what kind of pain he’d actually erased, so he forced himself to change the subject and turned back toward the children, forcing a smile across his face, as he did.

“Okay, guys! Just to make sure, you’re all pretty much pain-free, right?” Please, please nod, he thought.

To his immense relief, they all did. His smile stopped feeling fake, and the tightness in his chest eased. He let out a small breath and clapped his hands once. “All right then! The spell itself is pretty simple. All you have to do is repeat after me, and we’ll see who’s got the makings of a mage.”

“And one other thing, none of you have cast any spells before, correct?”

Every head shook.

“That’s fine. So repeat after me, and pay close attention to how it feels.

O water, gather before me - Water Ball!”

Once again, there was a small cacophony of loud voices as they all shouted the incantation at the top of their lungs. Rudy figured that the baths were probably the safest place for a spell like this, so he didn’t bother moving anyone out. He was also prepared to dry any splashes that happened accidentally, or… “accidentally.”

Sure enough, several children suddenly got splashed in the face, and now that they knew the incantation, a small water fight quickly broke out. Rudeus figured that they could use the levity, so he didn’t scold them and just watched indulgently, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

After the kids were finished playing, he asked, still smiling, if any of them remembered the feeling. Specifically, the tingle.

“It just felt wet!” Matthias grumbled as he dug at his ear with his pinky. A few of the kids giggled at that. They were all some version of soaked, but Matthias had definitely gotten the worst of it. Rudy chuckled and started his drying spell back up again, warm air swirling throughout the room.

Then, a small voice piped up - Miri’s. “I tink I do. It felt funny.”

Rudy immediately moved over and knelt in front of her, cupping her small shoulders. “Good! That’s it. Now concentrate on that feeling, remember it. Picture the magic traveling up through your body, gathering in your hand. Now think about water gathering on your palm-”

He didn’t even get to finish before a tiny ball of water shimmered into existence in Miri’s palm and plopped onto the floor.

“Good job, Miri! You did it!”

Rudy laughed, scooping the little girl up and spinning her in a wide circle. She squealed with delight, giggling her head off until he set her gently back down.

“I did it! I did it!” she shouted, bouncing on her toes.

Rudy smiled, but as he watched her jump, a sudden pang caught in his chest. For just a heartbeat, he saw Sylphie there instead: the same bright eyes, the same unguarded joy. Please be safe, he thought silently. Please still be safe.

As Miri continued to celebrate, Rudy heard a couple more small splooshes and couldn’t help grinning at the sound. Ranma had managed it right after her, and after a few moments of scrunching up his face in deep concentration, Theo did too.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matthias muttered, water dripping from his hair. “It just feels wet.”

“Hm.” Rudy made a thoughtful sound, looking at Matthias with mild amusement in his eyes, as realization struck him. So, Orsted was right again.

I get how he knew the spells and the stuff about magic circles, Rudy thought to himself, but how the heck did he know this one?

He sighed softly, watching the children laugh and chatter as droplets still clung to their hair. I only wish we had a nine-year-old, though. If he could find the exact point where the cutoff happened, whether it was a gradual change or a clean break at the tenth birthday, it would mean something concrete. Something he could measure.

If I had a whole class of nine-year-olds, he mused, I could map out exactly when the door closes.

Rudy gently clapped the dejected-looking Matthias on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You can still learn all the spells. I’ll write them all down for you so you can keep them.”

He looked around the group hopefully. “Out of curiosity, can anyone write?”

For a moment, there was only the quiet rustling of cloth and the faint splash of cooling water. Then one woman shyly raised her hand.

“Um… I can,” said a delicate-looking blonde. Her voice carried a careful precision. “I was trained to be a scribe.”

Rudeus smiled and turned toward her, grateful. “That’s perfect. I’m Rudeus Greyrat.”

She gave a small, proper nod before taking his offered hand. “Alexial,” she replied. “And I’d be more than happy to help you record the spells.”

Rudy pulled out his spell book and some sheets of paper from his study bag and handed them to the woman who claimed she had been trained as a scribe. He then handed her a quill.

"If you don't mind, can you start on copying the beginner spells? "If you want, you can sit outside and copy everything over. I made the table and chairs last night, you can sit there until we eat or start to prepare food at least.”

Rudy smiled, reassuringly. “I would like everyone to at least be able to cast these basics by the time we part. Meanwhile, I'm going to be working on something else today."

He looked around the group of women, knowing his next question was a long shot, but decided to ask anyway.

“I’m going to try making shoes for everyone, so you’ll have something to wear on the way to Lake Town. Would any of you be able to help me with the designs? I’ve already asked our hunters to bring back anything that might be useful, vines, long grass, things like that, but I’ve never actually made shoes before. I just want them to be comfortable, warm, and sturdy enough to last the trip.”

"I might be able to help, at least a little." A woman with bright red hair and blue-gray eyes spoke up. "My husband was the cobbler. At first, I was his slave, and he taught me quite a bit about his business. It turns out that I was talented at clothing. We were actually planning on opening a combined shop relatively soon. I think if anyone here might be able to help you make shoes, it's me. I'm Reina, by the way. Thank you for everything you've been doing for us."

The woman's voice was so quiet, Rudy had to strain a little to hear her. “Thank you, Reina. When we get outside, please stay with me because I'm going to immediately start working on the soles of the shoes." 

Reina acquiesced, and Rudy looked around at the group and saw that everyone was dressed, clean, dry, and ready to leave. "Okay, let’s all go back outside. Anyone who doesn’t know how to read can sit with me, after I finish with everyone's shoes, and I’ll try to teach you as much as I can. I used to be a tutor in reading, writing, and arithmetic, as well as magic, for a young lady."

"How does he know so much?" ten-year-old Matthias muttered to himself as he started to leave the room. It didn’t seem entirely fair to him that he was the only kid who couldn’t learn wordless magic, but at least he would learn the spells he might need as an adventurer.

Ussa was occupied trying to corral a wild little Kai, who, as soon as the first person had gotten splashed, had knelt by one of the tubs and tried to splash as much water on everyone else as he could. He, of course, had to be rebuked by someone else to get him to stop. When his mother sighed and tried to collect her son, she had been attempting to make a game out of it, but Rudy finally had enough and scooped the child up himself. Little Kai certainly didn’t think much of that.

He handed the child, who was quickly working himself up into a fit, back to his mother and then led the small group outside.

Ussa held her son close as she exited the bathing area. She was acting as if Rudeus had kicked him in the posterior before picking him up. She was blessedly silent, but her face was slowly turning red, and her eyes looked like little chips of flint as she glared back at him. Rudy ignored her.

As Alexial was leaving, Ussa quickly grabbed her by the arm, digging her fingers into the woman's flesh as she did so. “You will make sure I get my copy first, for my son,” she hissed, taking some of her anger out on the other woman. She knew that Alexial was blessed, or possibly cursed, with endless patience, and wasn’t surprised when the other woman simply removed her hand, smiled, and told her she needed to make the first copy before anything else, and that her son couldn’t even read yet.

“Please be patient, Lady Ussa. I can always make your son a copy after he learns to read. For now, I’ll be spending the next few weeks copying as many spells as I can so that all of us can use them.”

Ussa knew that the brat of a wizard boy would step in if she argued, so for now, she inclined her head. “Just don’t forget…” There were many ways she could have finished that sentence, but she chose to let it hang. Don’t forget what I told you. Don’t forget who my husband is. Many ways indeed.

At this point, Rudy noticed that two of the women were missing from the group and stuck his head back inside to see what was holding them up.

Upon seeing him, Ussa simply hurried past with a sharp “Humph!” tossing her head and lifting her nose in the air as she went.

The women emerged back into the same gray, overcast day they had left. It was almost constantly windy in the Strife Zone, so they barely noticed it anymore. But as they went through the small opening left between the partitions, the wind instantly began whipping the women's newly cleaned, and in one case, new, skirts around.

Alexial, clutching the book on magic as if it were a precious treasure, hurried over to the table and chairs Rudy had made the night before and prepared to make herself useful.

Rudy headed over to an empty spot and beckoned Reina to come sit with him. She was one of the ones who had been barefoot, so it was doubly perfect. Once she joined him, he explained his plan for the shoes.

“Okay, so what I’m thinking is to make the soles out of stone, and I want to make sure I can do that. So put your foot flat on the ground, please, and I’ll see if I can make a sole and shape it to your foot.”

The woman looked surprised. “You can do that?” she asked, arranging herself so that she was sitting with one leg out and the other bent, her knee raised and foot flat on the ground.

“Honestly? I’ve never tried it before today, but I’ve done some similar things, so I think I might be able to. This might take some experimentation. I promise that if I hurt you even a little, I’ll heal you right after.”

Reina looked as if she might already be regretting her decision to help Rudeus make shoes.

Rudy carefully put down his staff, knowing he could be a little more exact and gentle with his magic without it. He momentarily glanced at the table, looked a little surprised, then smiled when he recognized who was sitting there. He expected to see the scribe woman, Alexial, sitting there bent over a book; he was surprised to find Matthias there as well, though.

It looked as if the boy was determined to learn as much as he possibly could. He might have planned to make his own copy of all the spells as well, so that he could study them privately. Rudy gave both of them a smile and a thumbs up… then remembered that they probably didn't know what a thumbs up meant.

He covered by running his hands through his hair. “Alexial, please give Matthias a few sheets of paper if he requests it. I have more in my bag meant for study, and I can always get some more from Orsted. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

The quiet young scribe smiled at him and said something, but he couldn’t quite hear what it was. He could only assume it was some kind of agreement.

Then he turned back to Reina’s foot and started focusing. “Let me know if it feels too cold or too hot,” he muttered as he leaned forward. “I tried earlier, and it was startlingly cold.” His mind worked quickly, crystallizing the image he wanted the spell to follow. Gently cupping his hands over the ground, he coaxed the rock upward, shaping a thin, clay-like layer beneath the woman’s foot, soft, moldable, and warm to the touch.

Reina didn’t flinch, but she did gasp. “It’s warm, and it tickles a little,” Reina told him as he continued to work on her sole. Rudy could only give her a quick nod as he visualized exactly what he wanted. He wanted the heel to be elevated by about half an inch or so over the ground. He wanted the sole itself to be about a quarter inch thick, and he wanted it to form a sort of cup over the foot, coming up about an inch or so along the sides.

It took a little trial and error, but before too long, he had the shape he wanted. He hadn’t hurt her once, so he was proud of himself for that. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Now, while everything is still soft, take your foot out of it very carefully and then start pressing grass into the sole to provide some padding. I’m going to work on the holes so that we can thread grass between that and the blanket top. The sole of the shoe is going to be very hard stone, so I have to loosely weave grass between the sole and the shoe itself to allow your foot some movement. I think I’m eventually going to form an assembly line with all the women, and that can be your part, pressing grass into the soft sole while it’s still soft.”

Reina only nodded and immediately started tearing grass up from where it was growing and pressing it into her new shoe sole.

All of this had taken several minutes, and he was a little startled when, as soon as he finished forming the sole, a small, hard little head suddenly tried to bury itself in his arm. Little Miri, who had been sitting close by, had darted over to him and was now gripping his arm and shaking. “Da scawy’s back!”

Rudy looked up and sighed when he saw Ruijerd and Orsted walking back up the hill. “Oh.” He noticed that everyone was starting to react the same way, suddenly holding themselves or clutching onto someone. “Listen to me, he’s not going to hurt any of you. He was born with a curse that makes people afraid of him. Eri, please sit back down and don’t attempt to attack him. He didn’t hurt you before; he’s not going to hurt anyone now.”

He put a gentle hand on top of the little girl’s head as he spoke. “I know he feels super scary, but it’s just his curse, and it’s not his fault.”

Miri didn’t say a word, and her grip didn’t loosen either.

“I’ll be right back,” Rudy murmured as he shifted and slid his free arm beneath the little girl, lifting her against his chest before standing. She clung tighter, her little face buried in his shoulder, trembling less now that she was being held. 

Having had little sisters, even if they were a lot younger than her when he was carrying them around, Rudy carefully wrapped her legs around his waist as he gently supported her with his other arm. She ended up plastered to his right side, her small weight resting against his hip. He kept one arm around her as he started walking toward where Orsted and Ruijerd were coming up over the hill.

“Welcome back,” he greeted brightly as he laid eyes on the two men. “What did you catch?”

“One more bristleback and a deer,” Ruijerd answered as Orsted looked around the camp, one eyebrow raised, the only indication that he was surprised by what he saw.

When they had left the camp, it had been rather disorganized. The women had been brutalized, still bloody and dirty from their ordeal, and understandably upset. When they returned, though, the women were clean; there was a new area still steaming behind the partitions; two little boys were giggling and chasing each other around, firing wordless water balls at one another, while another boy sat with a woman, apparently studying something. He had expected leaving a twelve-year-old in charge of a camp, regardless of how mature he was, to have been a mistake, but it appeared he was wrong.