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Chapter Text

In a small village in Gormott lived a small immigrant family from Torna who lived small lives. There was a girl not thirteen years old who had soft red hair who stayed wrapped up in furs no matter the weather. There was a woman with harsh red hair who wore too much perfume and too little clothing. One day, a boy arrived in the small village and took up residence with the girl and the woman. The boy was smaller than the girl, perhaps five years old, and while also of Tornan decent, looked nothing like the girl or woman. The boy had blond hair, silver blue eyes, and was too quite. Freak, whispered the village gossip. There were whispers of grudging respect, too. The woman was a harlot, yes, but she had not turned out her distant kin when he had appeared. It was enough respect to blunt the worst of gossip’s edges.

In no time at all, the girl and the boy were inseparable. Though they shared different mothers the two were as close as blood. The girl took it upon herself to protect the boy from everything she could. The boy tried so very hard to do likewise for the girl. Often, though, he failed, and became the recipient for many a whip-lashing from the man.

The man did not live at the same house as the small family. He would leave at the earliest crack of sunlight and return with guests at the first kiss of moonlight. Clients for the woman, whispered the village gossip. Clients for the kids, hissed the village gossip.

At the height of summer a monk from Indol stopped at their village on the way home from a pilgrimage.

The monk from Indol looked to be in his early twenties. Being Indoline, he was actually in his early two hundreds. The stories he told were fascinating, and the audience he spoke with was as entranced with the monk as the monk was entranced by his audience. In his distraction, the monk did not realize two relics of great importance had been spirited out of his satchel by desperate little fingers.

These will get some good coin, reasoned the thief. Enough coin so that they all could eat a nice meal.

Nothing changed in the small village after the monk left. The thief hid their purloined tokens in a secret stash to wait out the inevitable search. The search never came, however; and in the daily drudgery that was surviving, they soon forgot all about the stolen goods.

The first touch of winter breathed across the fields. With its chill came an unexpected change.

The man came home at mid-day. He had hidden in a special pouch within his shirt a lumpy thing the size of two fists wrapped tight in watertight waxed paper. The man was very amused by the lumpy package. He was so delighted he had the woman service him as her first client of the day.

“Its from the castle vault,” he explained. He held the package oh so carefully. “Took me six years to get it. Once I sell this, I can get out of this rump-end deathtrap and get to a real town. A real place to live with real women.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” asked the woman.

The man sneered, “Only if you touch it, you cow.”

The boy looked at the girl. His older sister was pretending to be asleep, buried tight in her many layers of cloths and furs. She had her eyes shut tight and her hands over her ears as if she could will the sounds away. Silver blue eyes looked at the package the man was so excited about. He came to a decision.

I’ll get that package. I’ll sell it. Then me and sister can leave.

The package had been bounced off the end of the bed, and had come to rest by a pile of soiled clothing. It would be simple, he reasoned. All that needed doing was to unwrap the package, hide what it hid in his shirt, and then wrap the waxed paper around soiled cloths so it looked roughly the same size and shape. By time the man noticed the switch, he and his sister would be long gone.

With great stealth given his age, the boy slipped under the loose board that served as doorway between his and his sister’s hovel and the main room. Careful to stay low to the floor the boy made his way to the package. The man was very distracted, yelling and shouting and carrying on with the woman. The package stuck a little as he tried to force it open. He had to stand up to get a good grip on it.

Things suddenly happened very fast.

The waxed paper tore clear off. A diamond shaped stone spilled into his hands. The stone pulsed in a deep blue light that filled the boy’s lungs. Ice so cold it felt like fire swept through the boy. Screaming in shock, the boy dropped the stone and scrambled back.

“What?!” yelled the man, no longer distracted.

The stone – broke apart when it fell. Its glittering pieces spread out into a circle of golden blue light. And in the circle there was a… A person? A man. A man with silver hair wearing armor. White, silver, and lilac armor that didn’t really have any sleeves. The vest he wore had a jacket-like tail that shimmered like falling snow. He should have looked very scary.

But in the second the boy had to see him, the silver haired man looked safe.

The man kicked the boy hard enough he slid into the far wall. The force of the boy’s impact was hard enough the wall jumped.

“You little piece of shit!” howled the man as he hiked his pants back up. “Do you know what you just did? Do you! A Core Crystal is useless once its become a Blade!”

The woman tried to get out of the bed. The man punched her back before grabbing something off the nightstand.

“Only one way to fix this. Kill the Driver, and the Blade returns to being a Core Crystal.”

The thing in the man’s hand was a knife.

The boy had time enough to realize it was a knife when the girl intervened. She tumbled through the loose board so fast it fell. Quick as a thought, she put her back to the madman and spread her arms wide. The knife would have to go through her to get to her brother. Frightened, the boy closed his eyes, not knowing what else to do.

A dull gasp, like someone trying to cry out without being able to breathe, was all the boy heard. Something heavy crumpled to the floor.

“From now on, I’ll protect you.”

The voice was one the boy had never heard before. Even so, the boy believed the speaker. Believed them enough to open his eyes.

It was… It was the silver haired man. The man who had appeared when the stone had broken apart. The man in white knelt down next to the boy and the girl. His eyes were more silver than blue, but they… they were almost exactly the same color as the boy’s.

“I will keep you safe. Always.”

His hand was gentle as he cupped the boy’s face, brushing away the bruises and the pain.

“My name is Jin. What’s yours?”

“Mikhail,” the boy answered.

The strange man – Jin – turned to look at Mikhail’s sister. “What’s your name?”

The girl swallowed, too frightened to answer.

“Lora,” Mikhail answered for her.

Jin nodded. “Mikhail.” He squeezed Mikhail's shoulder gently and looked from one child to the other. “And Lora. You must be siblings.”

Mikhail felt something warm bubble up inside him. Mikhail blurted out in a rush, “Lora’s my big sister. She protects me. I don’t make it easy for her, but… but she’s brave! Really brave!”

“Yes, she is.”

Hearing Jin agree made Mikhail want to giggle. Lora shuffled her feet and looked away from Jin. A faint red blush crept over her cheeks. Jin offered both children his hands, Mikhail his left and Lora his right. Mikhail took a firm hold of Jin’s hand; Lora hesitated before doing likewise. As Jin rose to his feet, he helped Mikhail stand.

There was a faint gurgle from a lump on the floor. Jin’s expression narrowed into a frown as he looked over his shoulder at the lump.

“We shouldn’t stay here. Gather whatever you want to take. We’re leaving.”

“Right now?” Mikhail gasped in the same breath Lora was gasping, “L-Leaving?”

Jin squeezed their hands as he repeated, “Yes. Right now, we’re leaving.”

“But where will we go?” Lora asked.

“Someplace where you both will be safe,” Jin promised.

“Torna?” Mikhail wondered.

“Torna?” Jin echoed, tilting his head a little to the left in show of his confusion.

Mikhail explained, “Its a country far away. Its the Golden Country.”

“Will you take us to Torna?” asked Lora.

“I will take you wherever you desire, Mikhail. Lora.”

Lora looked at Mikhail with a disbelieving smile. Mikhail returned Lora’s smile with his own and squeezed Jin’s hand.

“To Torna!” Lora declared.

Mikhail cheered, “Torna!”

Jin held their hands tight. “If that is what you desire, then that is where we shall go.”

Jin had known things were wrong as soon as he had opened his eyes.

No. Jin had suspected things were wrong. He had known when his Driver had been kicked across the room by a man who should have known better. When the girl had intervened on his Driver’s behalf, Jin had known, This must stop.

The question of what to do had not been a question at all. Jin was a Blade; he was his Driver’s sword and shield. What his Driver needed, Jin would provide.

“Its how much?” Jin asked.

The Nopon merchant scratched his head with his right wing. “Friend heard right. One Blade. Two littlepon. Direct ship to Torna, no stops, two day boaty jaunt. It cost four thousand gold.”

“What if we took stops?” asked Lora. The girl had to stand on her tip-toes to get her chin above the counter, high enough up for the Nopon to see her.

“One Blade, two littlepon, with stop over in Mor Ardain, Indol, and Argentum. Trip take seven days. Ticket price three thousand five hundred gold.”

“You’ll only shave off one hundred gold per extra day?” Jin demanded.

“’fraid so!” chirped the Nopon.

“No. Thanks. We’ll take our business elsewhere.”

Jin scooped Mikhail and Lora up, one child in each arm, and immediately vacated the dock. If he stayed a minute longer, he might be tempted to do something someone else would regret. As it was, their weights were the only thing keeping Jin from freezing their immediate surroundings.

“Three thousand five hundred gold. We’re not that stupid or desperate,” Jin grumbled.

“Not!” Mikhail agreed.

“Though we are a little hungry,” Lora quietly added.

“How much is left in the coin purse, Lora?” Jin asked.

Lora dug the purse out of the deeper folds of her many furs. A minute to count and Lora announced, “Five hundred gold.”

The port town of Torigoth had boasted of its docks – that, after all, was why Jin was here. On arrival Jin had discovered it also boasted of several small eateries with affordable prices. That discovery had been a blessing: Two growing children could only stomach so much wild game and foraged vegetation. To be fair, Jin thought his cooking hadn’t been too bad when taking into account he’d had nothing to cook with or to use for seasonings.

“That’s just enough to eat at the cafe,” Jin announced.

“Shouldn’t we save it?” Mikhail asked.

Jin bounced his Driver to keep the boy from worrying at his lip. It was bad habit to get into. One inattentive moment on the battlefield and Mikhail could bight right through his lip. “Don’t worry. I saw several mercenary jobs on the bulletin board near the gates. I can make enough gold from any one of them to keep us feed.”

Lora fidgeted. “Will we be sleeping outside of town again?”

“I’m sorry, Lora. Yes. We will.”

Lora squeezed Jin’s shoulder in silent acceptance. Sleeping rough in the woods had been no worse than sleeping in the little hovel in the unnamed village Titan pedes away. (Or so Mikhail had said.) Still, after a solid sevenday of doing nothing but, the smell of morning dew got fairly old.

I’ll look at the board on the way out of town. Tomorrow, I’ll make enough to get us a night at the inn, Jin promised himself.

Their meal was a quiet thing. The cafe had a good view of Torigoth. It wasn’t a lively town just yet, but it had the makings of a real economic boom town. Give it five hundred years and it might just become the new capital of Gormott.

Bellies full, Jin carried his Driver and his sister out of town. They lingered for a few hours at the bulletin board and took their time examining the mercenary writs. There was one for twenty gogol toenails which got Mikhail giggling. Another was for feris pelts. The pelts seemed like the best option. Grabbing the flier, and one other Lora pointed out that had four digits, Jin headed for their “camp site”.

It was a spot in the woods near Torigoth where a monster felled tree had cleared the land. The tree itself had been hollowed out over the years by various monsters. Between the thick grass and shelter the hollow tree provided, it made for a decent spot. The first thing Jin set to was preparing their… accommodations. Before long, rude excuses for beds were set up inside the tree hollow, and a cheery camp fire was dancing in the fire pit.

Lora and Mikhail bent over the mercenary fliers. Mikhail ran his finger under the letters of each word, sounding it out carefully. It was not the most efficient way to learn how to read; but, a crude education was better than nothing.

“This one’s too stupid,” Mikhail complained.

Jin sat down next to Mikhail. “Which word?”

“The job, not the word,” Mikhail explained.

“Read it to me.”

Mikhail sat up straight. “Wanted. Vang of un-use-ual size t-terrorizing woodsmen. Twenty vang. Three th-ow-sand gold only for all twenty.” Mikhail’s nose wrinkled as he calculated, “That’s only hundred fifty gold per vang!”

“You’re right. It is a silly job.” Three thousand gold would get them so much closer to their goal. Vangs of unusual size was a vague description… Maybe it was worth the risk. Maybe. “Its not silly enough to dismiss outright,” Jin decided. Mikhail handed him the flier. Jin took a second look at it before folding it up. “It was issued by Indol? Interesting.”

Lora jumped halfway to her feet. Her sudden squeak caused Mikhail to jump into Jin’s lap, more or less.

“Lora?” Jin asked, hand on his sword hilt.

Lora looked at the fire and fidgeted. “I… um… just remembered something. ‘bout an Indol monk.” Her eyes looked to Jin then looked away. “Please don’t be mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Jin asked gently.

Lora fidgeted some more. “...I stole something from a monk. It was… before...” She didn’t have to say before when for Jin to know.

“The one that was on pilgrimage?” Mikhail asked.

Lora’s fidgeting turned her nod shaky. “He had two relics in his satchel. I saw them. I… um… stole them. Out of his satchel.”

Lora had not been fidgeting out of nerves alone. A slim black pouch was being meticulously worked out from between the seam in one of her furs.

“You hid ‘em!” Mikhail realized.

“I didn’t want anyone to find them. They looked really valuable.”

The pouch Lora had been working at popped out of the seam. It spilled open as it fell. Two cross shaped stones went sliding across the ground. The green one bounced twice, landing almost but not quite in the fire. The dark purple stone bounced almost straight up when it hit the ground.

Lora successfully caught the stone before it could hit the ground a second time. Holding it in both hands, she showed it to Jin and Mikhail.

“You see how pretty it is? Maybe it can show us the way,” Lora suggested.

“Wow,” Mikhail breathed, eyeing the stone with due care.

“Its certainly not a normal stone,” Jin agreed.

Mikhail narrowed his eyes. “...is it glowin’?”

Lora held the stone up to her eyes for closer inspection. Jin leaned forward to likewise get a better look –

And then bolted to one side with Mikhail in his grip. Jin had time enough to warn,“That’s a Core Crystal!” before the local ether – there wasn’t a word for it. Imploded sounded too tame.

The cross shaped Core Crystal glowed with a halo of ether as it floated out of Lora’s hands. Too stunned to move, Lora sat there, jaw agape, as the local ether condensed to the point it was visible to human eyes. The condensed ether flowed around an amazed Lora; it seemed to pass through her on the way to the cross shaped Crystal. The Crystal’s glow darkened in color and brightened in intensity simultaneously. All the light in their small camp was overwhelmed by darkness.

When Jin next opened his eyes, Lora was on her feet. There was a man standing in front of Lora. A Blade. Gold embellishments on otherwise simple night black armor drew the eye to the deep amethyst cross shaped Core Crystal on his chest. Equally dark hair rose in a small mountain peak of spikes, and stood contrast to skin as pale as Lora’s.

The Blade winced. Silver eyes a counterpoint to Lora’s own slowly opened. When Lora took a half step towards him, the Blade’s eyes snapped to her.

“Hello. My name’s Lora. What’s yours?”

“My… name…?” The Blade shook the last of sleep’s grip from him. “Its… Malos. My name is Malos.”

“Its nice to meet you, Malos.”

Lora offered the Blade her hand. His eyes narrowed in confusion as though he were unsure what to do. Hesitantly, the Blade held out his hand in turn.

Malos’s expression morphed from confusion to delight when Lora held his hand with both of hers.

“You’re my Driver,” Malos whispered.

“I’m the one who woke you. I… I don’t think I should be your Driver, though.” Shyly, Lora let go of Malos’s hand so as to hide her own hands behind her back. “I’m just a girl.”

“You’re the bravest girl I know,” Jin corrected.

Blinking without truly being startled, Malos looked at Jin. Jin put Mikhail down. His young Driver gave an awed yip of amazement and jumped at Lora in a pouncing hug.

“My sister’s awesome!” Mikhail cheered.

Malos laughed – and immediately seemed startled that he had laughed. Setting aside one confusion for another, Malos asked, “Your… sister?”

“Yes.” Lora succeeded in getting Mikhail’s feet back on the ground. Her smile was radiant as she introduced, “This is Mikhail. He’s my little brother.”

“I see. You’re… siblings.” Malos nodded as he filed the information away. Then, his attention turned back to Jin. “You’re a Blade.”

“I am. Mikhail is my Driver.” Jin offered Malos a warm smile along with his hand. “Since our Drivers are siblings, I suppose that makes us siblings, too.”

“Siblings,” Malos echoed. Lora’s Blade hesitated a moment – and then gripped Jin’s forearm tight in a warrior’s salute. “I like that idea, Jin. But if you call me little, I will punch you. Hard.”

Jin returned Malos’s grip with a firm shake. “Don’t call me bro and we’ll be fine.”

“Are you hungry? We already had dinner. We got some leftover jerky!” Mikhail offered.

“No, I’m… I’m good. Thanks, Mikhail.” Letting go of Jin’s hand, Malos settled with them around the campfire. And then nearly did a double-take as he saw – “The Emerald Core Crystal!”

Lora saw the green cross shaped stone by the fire. “This stone was --” she reached for it.

“Don’t touch it!”

Lora froze. Slowly, as though backing away from a wild animal or startled monster, Lora got away from the stone.

“Jin can touch it, or I can touch it. But neither of you must touch that stone. Its too… Its too powerful,” Malos got out in a rush.

“We believe you,” Lora promised. Malos seemed to settle a little when Lora put her hands on his knee and when Mikhail climbed into his lap.

“We won’t touch it, Malos,” Mikhail likewise promised.

Jin used his sword to fish the stone away from the fire. For how close it had gotten, the stone was barely warm at all. Collecting up the bag it and Malos’s Core Crystal had been secreted in, Jin placed it in his armor’s pocket. It was only then that Malos relaxed.

Malos took a shaking breath. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, Lora.”

“You did it to keep me safe.” Lora pat Malos’s knee as if giving her forgiveness.

“Keep you safe...” Malos closed his eyes; his left arm wrapped around Lora’s waist and tugged her gently closer. When Lora was resting against his side, Malos sighed. “I exist to keep you safe. I am your Blade. Your sword and shield.”

Jin put his hand on Malos’s right shoulder. Malos opened his eyes. When he found Jin’s face near his own, Jin’s left hand on Mikhail’s shoulder and right on Malos’s shoulder, Malos amended, “We are your swords. We are your shields. We. Are your Blades.”

“This is your first time waking,” Jin realized.

“I… Yeah. I think so.” There was a faint shake in Malos’s voice.

“That’s alright,” Jin’s grin gained a teasing edge, “baby brother.”

Malos cried, “Hey!” Mikhail snorfled. Lora couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping.

“And how do you know its not your first time, too?” Malos demanded.

Jin settled himself so that his shoulder was touching Malos’s. “A few things. First,” Jin ticked off one finger, “I have some general knowledge of the world. Nothing as concrete as knowing history, but I knew the names of some flora and fauna when Mikhail woke me. Second,” another finger ticked up, “my skills with my weapon are too sharp. All Blades know how to fight. I know how to kill. Third,” a final finger, “I have what are known as Field Skills. Skills that stick with a Blade between lifetimes.”

“’cause Blades don’t remember their old Drivers,” Mikhail recalled.

Jin fondly ruffled his Driver’s hair. “Right. When a Blade’s Driver dies, so too does the Blade. Their soul returns to their Core Crystal to wait for a new Driver to awaken a new life.”

“Its sad how Blades forget their friends,” Lora mused.

“Though the Field Skills Blades learn, we can still remember our friends. Perhaps not the ones who taught us those skills in our past lives, no. But if someone in a past life hadn’t taught a past me how to forage, we’d be in serious trouble,” Jin philosophized.

“Be nice if we knew their names so we could thank them,” Lora pouted.

“Thank them?” Malos echoed.

“Their ghosts,” Lora clarified.

“...ghosts?” Malos meeped.

“Ghosts are friendly! They keep an eye on you and give you good luck!” Mikhail explained.

“Ancestor ghosts do. Boogeymen don’t,” Lora corrected. “Ancestor ghosts shoo boogeymen away and Blades make ‘em stay away.”

Please don’t take the children too seriously, Jin tried to convey with a wincing look.

Some of his look seemed to have translated. Malos swallowed down his emotions and nodded as the children continued to discuss the supernatural.

“Wait.” At Malos’s word, both children turned their full attention to Malos. “You said if you didn’t know how to forage, you’d be in serious trouble. Why? What’s going on?”

Mikhail and Lora both winced, and both turned to Jin. Their looks were fair enough: Neither child had quite grasped how best to explain. Neither had Jin; but as the oldest sibling, the duty fell to him.

“Mikhail and Lora’s parents were… not good people.” Jin winced at the hedge. It was true, yes; it also seemed woefully inadequate. Steeling himself, Jin went for the killing blow.

And told Malos everything he knew.

The fire had dulled to bare embers by time Jin had concluded the tale.

“So now you’re trying to get to some place called Torna, the supposed Golden Country,” Malos recapped. “What will you do once you get there?”

“Find someplace nice and make some new memories,” Lora answered immediately. Mikhail gave a firm agreeing cheer.

“Its not much of a plan,” Jin agreed with Malos’s blink. “We’ll finalize our options once we arrive. For now, there’s the matter of actually getting to Torna. The boat tickets to get there costs around four thousand gold coins.”

“How much coin do we have?” Malos asked.

Lora fished out the coin purse. “Two gold coins,” she reported.

“Well fuck.”

Mikhail giggled a gasped, “ooohhh!” Lora sputtered.

“Language,” Jin censored.

“Sorry. Well, poop,” Malos tried again. Jin shook his head and the children laughed.

“I’ve been taking mercenary work. The pay has been enough for rough living. There’s one mission we found today which will go exponentially swifter with your help.” Jin pulled out the poster.

Malos took it, unfolded it, and read it aloud. “Sounds kinda vague,” he summed up.

“How’d you read it when its this dark?” Mikhail wondered.

“My element is dark,” Malos explained.

Rather, he attempted to explain. Both Lora and Mikhail blinked at him in clear confusion.

“You remember how I explained ether comes in different elements?” Jin asked.

“Fire and water. Earth and electricity. Ice and wind,” Lora recited.

“Ice ether ’s your friend!” Mikhail recalled.

Jin nodded, “That’s right. Because I’m an ice element Blade, ice element ether helps me. There are two more elements of ether that are rare. Light.”

“And dark?” Lora guessed.

“Got it in one,” Malos confirmed, brushing Lora’s hair with his hand. Lora’s beaming smile was almost enough to light the camp.

“So nighttime is your friend?” Mikhail asked.

“The ether most common at night is dark element ether. So… Yeah. You could say nighttime is my friend,” Malos chuckled.

“I wish nighttime were my friend. Its scary,” Mikhail pouted.

“Not with me here,” Malos promised. Mikhail’s pout rose into a small smile. Flicking the poster (and failing at hiding a blush), Malos asked, “So you think this could get us enough coin?”

“It would be a good start,” Jin confirmed. “Remember, its four thousand just for the tickets alone. Realistically, to cover food and other expenses, the price will be closer to five thousand.”

Malos wrinkled his nose as though he’d bit into a love lemon. “Do they require some kind of proof of target?”

“A wing claw should suffice. There might be a witness at location. I’ve never done a mercenary ticket issued by Indol before,” Jin admitted. “Usually, mercenary writs like these are posted by local government officials. I picked this up in Torigoth, which is a Gormotti town.”

“Indol is like Torna, then? A whole other continent away?” Malos asked.

Jin nodded affirmative.

“Well. I got a sword. Pretty sure I know how to use it. Worst case, I can keep our Drivers under cover. ...wait. What do Lora and Mikhail usually do while you’re off being a mercenary?”

“The towns we passed through were small enough that the writ issuer would be willing to keep an eye on them. When we traveled part way with a merchant caravan, they stayed with the caravan lead and did some basic school lessons. Lora’s been teaching Mikhail how to read, but I think Mikhail has a real skill with numbers.”

“Huh. Interesting. So… Never done a mercenary ticket for Torigoth?”

“First one. I’m confident enough in my skills to protect them, but...”

“But crap happens. I’ll guard. You slice and dice.”

Jin snorted, “Never heard it put quite like that before.”

“Yeah, well,” Malos started to chuckle.

Further planning was disrupted by a faint duet of snoring. Looking, the two Blades found their Drivers using Malos for both bedding and pillow. Mikhail had his neck at an angle that was going to give him neck pains come the morning, but otherwise looked utterly content in Malos’s lap. Lora had both arms wrapped around Malos’s left arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and breathing sleepy deep.

“Let’s get them to bed,” Jin suggested.

“Such as it is around here,” Malos agreed.

As carefully as they could, the two Blades properly bedded down their Drivers. Then they themselves set watch and retired.

As it turned out, Malos was the one who did the majority of the vang hunting. Following the instructions of their contact had led to a sizable pitch black cave. For Malos, this had posed little problem.

For Jin, it had led to the realization Malos had little sense of restraint.

“Twenty, Malos. The contract called for twenty. Not a hundred,” Jin repeated.

Hefting the sack full of wing claws over his shoulder, Malos grumbled, “They swarmed me and I lost count.”

Of course he had.

At least getting the ferris pelts had been simple. Malos’s sword was ether based which mean the wound would not be “clean”, or lacking in discoloration or unnecessary scaring. Jin’s sword was solid; therefore, getting the ferris fell to him. The clients, a husband and wife butcher and tanner, had been so ecstatic about the quality of both the pelts and the meat, they had added a bonus of two hundred gold.

Mikhail and Lora carefully tallied out the total gold coin count. Lora held their much fatter coin purse steady as Mikhail dropped in the last ten gold coin piece.

“Four thousand and twenty!” Lora announced.

Mikhail let out a cheer. Malos grinned, visibly warmed by their delight. Jin smiled and said, “Let’s go get a boat to Torna.”

The same Nopon merchant as yesterday was working the ticket counter. Malos held both Mikhail and Lora in his arms, one per arm. Jin held their coin purse close so as to avoid pickpockets and to show the merchant they were serious.

“Two Blades, two littlepon, to Torna. Direct ship costs six thousand gold coins.”

Lora and Mikhail both gasped. Malos tensed, holding and being held on to tightly by the children.

“That’s two thousand more than we discussed yesterday,” Jin stated, barely keeping his voice from a growl.

“Yesterday was only one Blade and two littlepon,” countered the merchant. “Indirect ship for two Blades and two littlepon to Torna would cost five thousand. Would take seven days.”

“Why so much for just one more ticket?” Jin demanded.

“Friend should consider it good discount. Know friend is Blade of littlepon, as is other Blade. That mean littlepons runaways. Should turn you in to guard, yes. But. Me not. It cost five thousand. Take or leave.”

“Leave.” Malos stepped closer to Jin. He murmured so only Jin and their Drivers could hear, “Come on. I got an idea.”

Jin gave the merchant a final withering glare before giving the Nopon his back.

“Idea?” Mikhail asked.

“Yeah. Its… kind of crazy. Where’s that bookshop?”

“There,” Lora pointed.

“What do we need from a bookshop?” Mikhail wondered.

“A world map,” Malos answered.

“Oh! Salvage shops have the best maps. They also have those neat salvage compasses! I wanna figure out how they work,” Mikhail gushed.

“That way,” Lora directed.

“Maybe if this works, we can pick you up a couple to tinker with, Mik’.” Malos’s chuckle had a nervous edge.

“We need a world map, please,” Lora requested of the shop’s proprietor.

The matronly proprietor gave the quartet a considering look. “Oh? You lot in training to become salvagers?” Even as she asked, the proprietor was pulling out two items. Both were pamphlets as long and as thick as Jin’s forearm. One had a slightly glossy sheen to it, though, denoting it as waterproof paper.

“Adventurers.”

Lora’s answer held such seriousness the proprietor kept a chuckle contained. “It’ll be two fifty for the plain map. Four hundred for the treated map. Could drop the treated one in the Cloud Sea and fish it out ten days later without a mar on it.”

“We’ll take the treated one,” Jin decided. The protective coating couldn’t hurt.

The proprietor counted the gold coins as Jin laid them out. She slid the coins over to her side of the counter as Jin slid the map over to his. “Be careful on your adventures now, loves,” she called kindly after them.

Keeping hold of the map, Jin returned the coin purse to Lora. Immediately, Lora secured it within her furs.

“Let’s get some place with some privacy and take a good look at that map,” Malos requested.

Some place with privacy turned out to be a cliff edge looking out over the Cloud Sea at low tide. A thick bough of trees blocked their sight of Torigoth, and likewise blocked anyone’s view of them. By time they arrived at this out of the way place, the sky was turning orange with twilight.

With due care and reverence, Lora and Mikhail opened the map out on the ground between them. Malos knelt next to them.

“This is Gormott.” Malos pointed to the picture of the Titan they were currently on. His fingers hovered over the unfurled map as he searched for names.

“Indol!” Mikhail pointed out the Titan.

“Mor Ardian,” Lora identified the humanoid Titan.

“Archie – Archa –“ Mikhail tried.

“Leftherian Archipelago,” Jin sounded out the words for his Driver. To Malos he asked, “You do know the map is only a guideline? The Titans move in orbit around the World Tree.”

“Right. I only need to know what we’re looking for. Ha!” Malos tapped the depiction of a serpent with a great flat mass of land spread out across from its chest down to the top of its lower third.

“Torna!” Mikhail triumphantly read off the label.

“Now I know what it looks like, I can find it.” Malos rose to his feet and gestured that the children should put away the map. “I just… I hope this works.”

“What works?” Jin asked.

Lora took her Blade’s left hand. “Malos?”

Malos returned Lora’s squeeze with a gentle squeeze of her hand. Breathing deeply, closing his eyes, Malos held his right hand over his Core Crystal. The Crystal glowed faintly brighter in the waning daylight. Malos frowned, concentrating.

“Jin?” Mikhail tugged urgently on Jin’s coattails. When Jin looked to his Driver, Mikhail pointed up at the sky. “Is that star moving?”

Jin blinked. Twice. There was a prickle of light in the edge of sky that had gone dark with night. A prickle of light that was moving. And unless Jin had utterly lost it, that prickle of light was getting bigger. It looked like it was –

“Here!”

Malos’s roar startled Jin’s attention away from the astral anomaly. Malos had his right hand up and out as if he were about to catch something. Or...

Jin’s eyes shot back to the moving star that kept getting much bigger.

He’s calling a star? Jin wondered.

Mikhail, Jin, and Lora all yelped as the star zipped over their heads. The breeze made by its passing caused the trees to sway; branches were snapped off and sent flying. A monster gave a token roar of protest. Then the star swung back around at a significantly reduced rate of speed. It danced in the sky and then sank to rest before them.

It looked like… a woman? An armored woman made of light drinking black metal. Gold adorned the woman’s armor and made up the majority of her breastplate. A halo of golden light crowned her head. The woman had by her hands two floating lances made of and adorned with the same black and gold material as her armor. Two upward and two downward facing wings were dotted with crimson light shaped like feathers.

Beneath the breastplate was a crystal that looked identical to Malos’s.

“This is Siren.”

Malos’s voice rang loud in the stunned quiet.

“Siren?” Lora repeated.

The metal woman bobbed in the air as though acknowledging her name. Then the metal woman bent down. As she reached out her hands to them, the crystal on her chest folded open from the bottom. It looked like there was a small room inside the crystal.

“Come on.” Malos picked up Lora. Turning, he held his hand to Jin.

Hesitating for only a fraction – because giant. Metal. Woman – Jin picked up Mikhail, and took Malos’s hand. Grinning with elated relief, Malos tugged Jin towards the metal woman.

The metal woman – Siren – folded her hands around Malos and Jin and carefully picked them up so that the two stood on her interlaced fingers. At Malos’s head tilt to proceed him, Jin set his foot tentatively on the extended half of the open crystal. When it held Jin headed into the small room. Malos followed immediately after.

“Kind of cramped,” Jin pointed out, edging around to Malos’s left side.

Malos adjusted Lora so that she was held by his left arm only. “Sorry. Siren wasn’t really meant to carry passengers.”

“Not a complaint; just a note.”

Mikhail’s eyes were wide as he took in the tiny room’s contents. “Jin, Jin, look, look! That picture looks like a Cloud Sea compass!”

“It does,” Jin agreed. He felt his eyes starting to cross and blinked. Several times. “It has a lot more information than a Cloud Sea compass does.”

“Siren has a lot more interesting things than that, Mik’,” Malos chuckled. “Now.” Malos held out his right hand. “Let’s go.”

“Is Siren going to swim to Torna?” Lora wondered.

Malos flicked his hand up in a sharp come. The crystal half lifted up and closed. The small room went night dark save for the glowing red of the many, many displays. Then the room’s walls sort of blinked and they could see outside. Except… not quite. The perspective wasn’t right.

“We’re seeing through Siren’s eyes,” Jin realized.

Malos’s grin was audible. He swept his right hand out diagonally across the room’s wall. Displays and patterns filled the wall in the wake of his hand passing.

Jin crouched as the floor moved up. ...no. Not the floor. Siren moved upwards at a slow climb. Then Siren titled forward to look down without somehow squishing them all against the room’s wall. Gormott spread out beneath them in a glorious panorama that was beyond breathtaking.

“We’re really high up,” Lora realized, squeezing Malos tight.

“Siren won’t fall,” Malos promised. Something on the wall blinked. “Siren sees Torna. We’re going now.”

Malos drew his right hand from the top of the wall to the middle, then to the side. As if all the pictures were tangible they all followed his hand and were pushed to one side so that their view was unobstructed.

Mikhail held tight to Jin. Jin likewise held tight to Mikhail. It was one thing to be in control of a fall. It was a completely separate matter to be seeing a controlled decent through someone else’s eyes. There was no way to tell if things were moving past them so fast because they were moving fast, or if it was because of perspective. The great head of Gormott passed by their right. Actual clouds parted before their sight. Daring to look down, Jin could see the Cloud Sea looked no different from the atmospheric clouds. ...except they moved a lot faster.

Holding fast, Jin looked back up ahead of them. With what felt like a gentle glide, Siren banked right. The Titan of Mor Ardain almost looked like it was waiving as they past by. The world spun as Siren did a thankfully brief roll through clouds.

And then jerked to a halt.

“...that’s a big head,” Lora pointed out.

The big serpentine head leaned in closer like it was trying to get a good look at them. The head leaned back and roared.

Siren spun around the head, twirling around a very lengthy neck. Siren then shot back up. Looking behind him, Jin could have sworn he saw the head’s teeth nipping at Siren’s heels. And then –

Mikhail pointed. “Is that a city?”

“Sure looks like one,” Malos agreed.

The city was spread out on what looked at this distance like a platform no bigger than Malos’s hand. Ether lights lit up the city in defense against the night. Spreading out below the city was a massive plain of trees and grass and some rough patches of sand. There was a small speck that got circled in red. A line was drawn out from the dot. Information scrolled past too fast for Jin to read more than a few snatches of words.

Malos told them, “Siren says that looks like a port town, like Torigoth. She can set us down in some cover nearby. Won’t take longer than half an hour to get to the town. Probably a little longer than that to find an inn.”

“We’re already at Torna?” Jin gaped. Malos grinned at him.

“Buh – but that only took ten minutes!” Mikhail half complained, half gasped.

“I know. So slow, right?” Malos cackled at their expressions.

At a wave of Malos’s hand, Siren began their decent upon the Golden Country.

Standing stock still on the viewing balcony of the palace, the fourth in line to the throne of Torna very slowly, very deliberately, lowered both himself and his binoculars to the ground.

“An Artifice,” he dared to breathe aloud. “An Artifice has come to Torna...!”

Chapter Text

The first thing they noticed on entering the port town was there were nearly as many Blades as there were people. The Blades were acting just like people, too. There was one using electric ether to make a sign flash and catch attentions. There was another using wind ether as part of a performance. A pair of burly beast Blades called out warning and advertisement as they pulled a cart almost as wide and as big as the whole street. There were even a couple of Blades that were helping corral a group of bouncing children.

Jin, Mikhail, Malos, and Lora stood at the town gates and breathed it all in.

“How come its called the Golden Country if there isn’t a lot of gold colored stuff?” Mikhail wondered.

“They may have meant it as a metaphor,” Jin suggested.

“Or it was a good advertising slogan,” Malos snarked sarcastically.

Lora sat up straighter in Malos’s arms. “There!” She pointed into the street’s depths. “That’s a sign for an inn!”

“There’s another sign!” Mikhail giggled, pointing.

“Looks like we’ll have our pick of where to stay, huh?” Malos chuckled. To Jin he asked, “Split up and check them both out?”

Jin eyed the throng of people and Blades warily. “Let’s… not.”

A Blade with a lance did a tricky spin and twist that made ice dance for the amusement of shoppers.

“...see your point,” Malos conceded. “Trying to find you by following ether manipulation would be like looking for a needle in a needle stack.”

The first inn they checked had a sign on it warning all rooms were full. The second inn had the same warning, but it also had a sign directing overflow guests to a third inn. That inn also was full, and also had a sign directing overflow guests to another inn. That inn was also booked. They were just beginning to resign themselves to having to camp rough (assuming they could find their way out of town) when they tripped across a small little out of the way place. If it weren't for the sign denoting it as an inn, the place would have been confused for a hole in the wall.

Jin and Malos exchanged looks. Mikhail was about five minutes from being unconscious and Lora wasn't far behind her brother.

We've slept in worse locations, Jin decided.

A bell jangled somewhere within the depths of the place when Jin opened the rickety door. The interior was – not spotless, but not as near a disaster as Jin had been preparing himself for. The floor had mismatched rugs all across it, as if the owner were tying to hide a poor repair with an even poorer taste in flooring.

"Hello?" Jin tried.

A diminutive old woman half bent with age shuffled out from around the counter. "Ah," she said, bending her neck a bit to get a good look at them, "guests. Maybe this going in to an innkeeper business will work out for my retirement after all. How many in your party?"

"Only us," Jin answered. Malos was visibly trying to see if anyone else was in the building. From what little Jin could see of the back area, it was deserted. No way of telling what was upstairs until they got there.

"Two children and," the old woman paused. Squinted. "You're both Blades?"

"Is that a problem?" Malos asked with a faint edge in his tone.

"This is Torna, dear. We don't have those stupid suppositions about Blades being tools of war and nothing but. I ask because... Well. Curiosity I suppose. Children finding Core Crystals is nothing new around here. Children with Blades and no parents could mean any number of things. Some of them unsavory, if you catch my meaning."

Jin put a protective hand over Mikhail's back. "Yes. We're runaways."

"I see I'll get to practice my dotting old idiot routine," hummed the old lady. "It's two hundred gold coin for a night. Six hundred for the week. No food included, but if either of you can cook and clean up after yourselves, you can use the kitchen. You'll have to provide your own provisions. Bathing facilities are provided. I don't do laundry but the washtub's free of charge. Soap's ten gold coin for three scoops. Any questions?"

Jin and Malos were both flabbergasted. Lora had sleepily pulled out the coin purse. If not for Malos's reflexes, she would have dropped it.

"Your rates are extremely generous," Jin managed. Malos was doing a neat balancing act keeping Lora secured and counting out the appropriate coinage.

The old woman counted out the coins as Malos laid them on the desk. Once counted, she plucked a key from her waistband.

"Up the stairs. Second door on the right, right next to the hall window. Baths are on the second and third doors to your left. Men's on the second door, women's on the third. If you dears have any trouble just give a shout. Old Melin may be retired, but I ain't deaf and dumb just yet." The old woman's smile showed off her missing teeth.

"Thank you," Jin managed. Malos added his own, "Thanks."

The old woman cackled, "Thank you! This is the closest I'll ever get to an adventure, you know! Go on, loves, go on. You're all dead asleep on your feet. Get some good sleep."

Thus dismissed, Jin and Malos made their way up the stairs. There was an ominous squeak from the third step to the top; something to keep in mind. Since Malos had the key, he opened the door.

Four beds cut the room's size from medium to small. The beds all had fresh sheets and actual pillows. The floor was covered in more of those mismatches rugs and the curtain on the single window barely qualified as a curtain given all the holes.

It was the most beautiful place they'd ever seen.

Neither Lora or Mikhail were letting go of their Blades for anything short of an imminent threat. Neither Blade particularly cared. Malos kicked the door closed. Each Blade picked the closest bed, carefully got their respective Driver's heads on pillows, and then themselves laid down. They were all too out of it to even think about pulling back the covers.

Sleep knocked them out for the count.

Old Lady Melin turned out to be less of an innkeeper and more of a landlord.

In less than seventy two hours, the sweet woman had effectively adopted the lot of them as her grandchildren. She introduced Malos and Jin to a group of acquaintances in the "odd jobs" business. While the two Blades put their swords to use making enough coin to live on, old Lady Melin tutored Lora and Mikhail in the basics of reading, writing, arithmetic, and logic. When the children's thirst for knowledge outstripped her library within a day, she called in a favor from a retired university professor.

"He's got some fun number books!" Mikhail had enthused after that first lesson.

"I like the history stuff," Lora decided.

So. That was that. The two settled in with their preferences and the professor for lessons scheduled four times a week. When the two weren't at lessons, they made some coin themselves at the headquarters of the odd jobs group. Cleaning, mending torn cloths, and running small errands; anything small hands could work at, the two did.

It took less than a month for the four to feel as though they had never lived anywhere else.

"Malos!"

Startled near to the point of dropping the rice he'd been washing, Malos whirled to face old Lady Melin. The old woman shh'd him and pointed towards further back in the kitchen. Faintly nervous, Malos exchanges a look with Jin. Jin pulled the wok containing the starts of dinner off the heat, and headed with Malos into the back of the kitchen.

"One of your buddies dropped this off." Old Lady Melin unfolded a crumpled leaflet, the kind mercenary writs were printed on.

Wanted, blazed in extra large font along the writ's top. Person or persons with information regarding an unusual gemstone. Reward up to --

"Sixty thousand gold?!" Malos sputtered.

"Look!" Old Lady Melin urgently tapped the drawing below the word wanted.

It looked exactly like Malos's Core Crystal.

"Fuck," Malos cursed.

"Language," Jin censored on automatic.

"You need to come up with a disguise. Quick! So far only I and that dolt Professor Shoten know where you live. That won't stay quiet for long, not with that much gold out for your Core Crystal!"

"Disguise how?" Malos asked. "I start going everywhere in a cloak, I'll stand out even worse!"

Jin frowned. Tentatively, he announced, "I might have an idea. I'm going out with Lora. Don't burn dinner while we're gone."

"Going out where?"

Jin's answer of, "You'll see," did not inspire confidence.

Left with little other choice, Malos got back to cooking dinner. Mikhail came down at one point to offer company – and commentary. Old Lady Melin did whatever old ladies did when they weren't being nosy landlords. By time time Malos successfully finished cooking dinner without scorching things (much), Jin and Lora had yet to return.

Malos was considering going after them, price on his Core be hanged, when the door's bell chimed.

"We're back!"

"Where did you two go, back to Tori--" Malos started to demand.

Mikhail gasping, "Whoa!" interrupted Malos's wound-be rant.

Stopping in the doorway from the kitchen to the main entrance, Malos gulped an agreeing, "Whoa."

Lora had both hands on her hips and a proud smile. Malos's Driver radiated smug, I told you so!

Jin was wearing a mask. A horned half mask that covered from his nose up. The effect was that his Core Crystal was completely hidden. It also had the effect of making Jin look as intimidating as his weapon.

"Here!" Lora skipped over to Malos with a bag outstretched in her hands. "Try it on!"

Malos took the bag since Lora wasn't giving him much of a choice. Inside was – an armor plate? Pulling it out Malos could better see it was a layered armored breastplate similar in style to Jin's but in Malos's colors. It took some help from Lora, but Malos eventually figured out how to get it on.

"Cool!" was Mikhail's giggling judgment.

Lora laughed, "It's perfect!"

It really was. Side by side, the two Blades looked like two regular humans from the same mercenary unit.

Malos fidgeted with the breastplate. "It's weird. Not the fit. Hiding my Core Crystal."

"No kidding," Jin agreed, hand twitching towards the mask. He offered Malos a sardonic grin. "At least this way we can keep working while this bounty mess works itself out. A month or two should clear the air."

"You hope," Malos tacked on.

"We've made it this far on hope," Jin countered.

Malos sighed, "Yeah. We have." A beat later and he demanded, "Let's ditch the getups and get dinner."

"He didn't destroy it this time!" Mikhail announced.

"Proof of miracles," Jin teased. And immediately dodged Malos's retaliatory punch.

Two months later a new mercenary flier was put out. The bounty jumped from sixty thousand gold to sixty five hundred.

Jin and Malos got used to wearing their disguises everywhere, even if they never got used to the off-putting feeling of their Core Crystals being hidden.

Sighing, Malos checked his list. Lora wanted to try cooking a desert that was supposedly a big fad around the founding of Torna. She had copied out the recipe in her economically neat hand, and entrusted it to Malos. Lora herself was with Jin and Mikhail enduring mercenary "boot camp".

My weapon isn't going to cut it for her; it's too heavy. She needs something in her weight class for now.

Sighing, Malos forced himself to stop thinking about it. Jin would keep Lora safe. So would every mercenary in the odd jobs group. They'd also mercilessly tease Lora about trying to muscle in on a man's world. Ah, how Malos wished he could be in two places at once. The expression on those blowhard's faces were going to be priceless.

"Excuse me. Are you Malos the Wise?"

Malos echoed, "The wise?"

Turning to face the speaker, Malos gave the guy a hairy eyeball. Average Tornan height with a traveler's cloak over cloths that screamed old money. Old, old money; the last time Malos had seen that much gold thread had been in a kabuki play. The guy had his hood pulled up so that his features were indistinct. The sharpness of his eyes, though... No shadows could hide eyes that burned like Lora's.

The man was saying, "Yes. I'm looking for a man named Malos the Wise. He's supposed to be an ardent student of the Architect."

Fuck, Malos thought, immediately amending to, Poop and scorch it.

"Sorry, pal. My name's Malos, yeah, but I'm a mercenary by trade. The Wise I ain't."

"Darn."

And damn, added Malos. Eyes like Lora's? This guy was not going to let it go.

"You might still be able to help." The man pulled out one of those damn fliers. The one with a picture of Malos's Core Crystal on it. "The man I'm looking for will either have a crystal like this on his person. Or, he'll be traveling with a Blade that has a Core Crystal with a similar shape. Ring any bells?"

Malos gave the flier a considering look. "I've been seeing this around a lot lately."

"I would hope so." The man's hidden smile was meant to be off-putting; to be read as harmless.

This guy is as harmless as Lora with my sword, Malos knew. And that... That was not a good thing.

"Heard a lot of talk about the fliers. Not much else. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

"Oh, yes, of course. My apologies." With a little bow and a, "Good day!" the cloaked stranger made his exit.

Malos waited for the man to blend into the crowd before resuming his shopping. In the back of his head Malos was running routes to get home while loosing a tail. Rooftops? Rooftops could work. There were a half dozen alleys he could duck down that only looked blind.

Even so, Malos doubled back on his trail a half dozen times. He crossed at lest two rooftops, seven streets, and startled one cat. Still he felt like he was being hunted as he slipped through old Lady Melin's back door.

"There you are." Jin took off his mask; then frowned, ready to put it back on again. "What's wrong?"

"Lora and Mik'?" Malos asked.

"In the baths. Dinner's cooling on the stove. Malos?" Jin reached out and clapped a hand on Malos's shoulder.

Leaning into the contact a little, Malos reported: "I ran into the guy who's been issuing those fliers."

Jin frowned. "Anyone with that much coin coming out in person..."

"Not too bright," Malos agreed. "Traveler's cloak. Looks pretty worn. Kept the hood up to keep his face hid. Cloths were the giveaway. Very fancy. ...and he had eyes like Lora's." Malos had to swallow before he could spit out, "And he approached me specifically in the market."

Jin tightened his grip. "Dinner first."

Yeah. They were all going to need their wits for this. All except their landlady; she'd been too kind to them to weigh her with their problems. If they had to bolt... Well. They'd say goodbye first. They wouldn't say more than that.

They assembled in their room after the nightly chores were done. Jin sat in an almost lotus position on his bed with Mikhail sitting cross-legged in his lap. Lora spread out her many furs across her bed – but she sat next to Malos, her bare arms tucked around Malos’s waist. It was a show of absolute trust in her Blade, in Jin, and in Mikhail, that Malos did not take for granted. Malos put his left arm around Lora in turn and let her head rest near his Core Crystal.

“Somebody musta remembered your Core Crystal,” Mikhail theorized.

“Information brokers rarely forget things,” Jin agreed.

“Didn’t he say he was looking for someone named Malos the Wise?” At Malos’s affirmative hum, Lora hypothesized, “Maybe you’re a legendary Blade that hasn’t been seen in Alrest for a while. One from Torna with a fancy story that everybody forgot ‘cause its been so long since you were awake. If he’s so rich, he must have lots of time for looking through books, and found one about you.”

Malos gave his Driver a gentle squeeze. “Good thought. But I know this is the first time one of Father’s Master Blades has awoken on Alrest.”

“Father’s...?” Jin echoed the odd phase.

“Yeah. I’m one of three Master Blades Father forged himself.”

The group gave Malos a blank confused look.

Lora jumped with a startled, “Oh! I remember seeing something like that in one of the new books I got!”

She wiggled out of Malos’s unresistant hold. Just as fast as she had jumped, Lora hauled a book as big as her head and half as thick out from under her bed. It landed with a bed shaking thump on Malos’s bed. Flipping it open to the back, Lora ran her fingers down the pages.

“Master Blade, right? Let’s see – Ah! Chapter four!”

Mikhail crawled out of Jin’s lap to join Lora in front of the open book. Jin likewise walked over, bringing with him the oil lamp. Malos moved off his bed to join the others in standing around Lora angling to get a better look at the book’s pages.

“Here it is.” Lora cleared her throat to take on a properly authoritative reading voice. “Upon his successful return from the pilgrimage Brother Amalthus offered before the Praetor knowledge gained at the Architect’s knee. He spoke of how the Architect looked like no one man but all men. He spoke of how the Architect showed wonders indescribable made common place upon the fields of Elysium. He spoke of how the Architect had sent into the world his Master Blades to judge the worth of man.”

Jin and Mikhail looked up from the book. They found Malos had slapped his hand against his eyes in patent disbelief. Their attentions turned back to the book as Lora resumed speaking.

“The Master Blades are the Architect’s personal Blades. Should any unworthy hand touch one’s Core Crystal they shall be burnt unto ash. So did declare the Architect to Brother Amalthus. These great Blades stand before all other Blades. They are the First Blades. All Blades bow before their might, for their might is the power of the Architect, and the Architect almighty. Should one find themselves in the presence of the Master Blade first confess thy sins. Should the Master Blade judge the worthy, second thy must listen and attend. The Master Blades were forged by the Architect at the beginning of Alrest. They are Wise.”

Lora leaned back out of the book. In unison, Lora, Jin, and Mikhail looked at Malos. Malos had both hands against his face and was groaning.

Lora, Jin, and Mikhail declared, “Nope.”

Malos collected himself enough to state, “Lora, you need to get your money back. This book is full of trash.”

“Its not all trash,” Lora defended.

“Fine. Just – let me read that chapter first.”

“No. You’ll mark it all out with corrections and then I won’t be able to read any of it.”

“Fine. I’ll write out my corrections in a notebook outside the book.”

“Maybe you can send your notes to Indol and get ‘em to fix the stupid parts?” Mikhail suggested.

Malos yelped, “No! They’ll come after me because of that trash!”

Jin, Mikhail, Malos, and Lora all gasped, “Indol!”

“Whole countries must have huge vaults!” Lora reasoned.

“Big enough sixty five hundred ‘s just a little drop!” Mikhail agreed.

“The man who approached me wasn’t Indoline, though,” Malos pointed out.

“Might be acting as an agent,” Jin suggested.

“Figuring out who he works for is nice. What we really need to figure out is how to get him to go away quietly,” Lora circled back to their actual issue.

“Maybe we could just meet and talk to him?” Mikhail suggested innocently.

The group exchanged thinking looks.

“That’d just blow up.” Mikhail withdrew his suggestion, crestfallen.

“Its not a bad idea per say,” Lora hedged.

“We’d need to control how and where we met him to insure it proceeds favorably to us.” Jin pinched the bridge of his nose. “There are too many factors and not enough information. Why don’t we continue for now as we have been? If a worst case scenario develops, Siren can spirit us clear.”

Though Lora and Mikhail immediately agreed, their reluctance to leave was clear. Malos likewise hesitated.

“I don’t like the idea of hiding forever, Jin,” Malos admitted.

“For now is not forever,” Jin promised.

Malos sighed. Reaching over, he snuffed out the oil lamp’s light.

The next morning had a slow start. Keeping to a regular routine was difficult now that they knew for certain there was a man after them. That knowledge would not stop the day’s scheduled lessons from happening, or the mercenary work from being assigned, or old Lady Melin from fussing. They resolved in their own ways to try and treat the situation as they would a rainstorm: Sudden though it was, it, too, would pass.

The retired army man and his Blade who handled the paperwork aspect of the odd jobs group called out to Malos and Jin as soon as they set foot inside the building.

The brute Blade flicked a set of papers to emphasize his deceleration of, “We got a big one.”

“You say that every day, Satch,” Malos complained.

If Blade Satch realized there was less cheer than normal in Malos’s tone, he ignored it in favor of more immediate concerns. “This one’s coming down from the capital. The Royal House of Torna.”

“They took a shine to how we’ve been handling the monster problems around the trade routes.” Satch’s Driver rubbed his hands together in glee. “Big jobs like this don’t come around too often! Think the last time was – oh. Neigh on a half century ago. Back when I first founded this odd jobs shop. My old admiral –”

Satch cleared his throat. His Driver subsided.

“Its too big to let any of our greenhorns near it. All the old hands are off on extended jobs.”

“The sakura festival,” Jin recalled.

“Biggest festival of the year for this part of Torna. Always pushes this odd jobs shop to its limits no matter how many hands we have working,” Satch confirmed. “You two aren’t the best we’ve got. Don’t have seniority, either. You’ve more than pulled your weight since you joined up, and that’s a fact. Think you can handle this one yourselves?”

Jin took the offered sheets. Malos moved to lean partway over Jin’s shoulder so as to read them as well. Flipping through the first few pages, Jin handed them over to Malos for a detailed inspection.

“Seems like a straightforward subjugation mission. What’s the catch?” Malos demanded.

“A Blade.”

Startled, Malos looked at the report Jin was pointing to.

“A monster resonating with a Blade is a pretty big catch,” Malos concurred.

“Malos.” At Malos’s hum, Jin pointed to the bottom of the last sheet.

“Damn,” Malos breathed reverently. Even when taking out the odd job shop’s cut the reward figure was five digits. They could get Mikhail two Cloud Sea compass with this haul and have enough left over for meals out for two weeks straight. Or maybe… Malos shook his head clear. There were too many options with that kind of coin.

Malos arched a brow at Jin. Jin tipped his head a fraction to the left. Malos nodded.

Jin rolled up the paperwork. “We’ll take it.”

“Proof of completion will be the Core Crystal and a tangible artifact. Claws preferable. Good hunting.”

The last known location of the monster Driver and its fellows was a four hour walk through the grasslands, around one of the rocky cliff formations, and another hour's walk on the outskirts of a desert patch. There was no telling how long the actual subjugation portion of the mission would take, either. Looking at a minimum of a day long trip, Jin and Malos split up. Malos hit up the market for trail provisions – and made a mental note to figure out how to cook their own; this crap tasted worse than it looked. Jin made three stops: One to the odd job shop's equivalent of an arms-master to secure continued weapon tutoring for Mikhail and Lora; one to the professor to tell Mik' and Lora about the job; and a last stop to their landlady to likewise notify her about their departure.

They met back up at the town gates. Malos handed Jin his share of the provisions. Jin gave Malos Lora's good lucks. And the two got walking.

Two hours out of town, Jin deliberately did not look behind him. "We have a tail," he noted casually.

"Discrete nut," Malos hummed.

"Amateur," Jin concurred. "Think it's the same one from yesterday?"

Malos paused to stretch out a stiff back. Their none too talented tail was abruptly distracted by a patch of wildflowers by the roadside. The cloak they were wearing was sandy tan today, but the general build was a dead ringer. Sighing as he resumed walking, Malos confirmed, "Same one."

They kept walking without bothering to loose their tail.

"Do you think he set up this mission?" Jin wondered.

"There's a worrying thought. Associate of Indol with an in to the Royal House of Torna?" Malos gave the idea its due shudder.

"You’re right. He probably saw you in the market and decided to take advantage." Jin gave Malos a look out the corner of his eye. "You noticed he's armed?"

"Looks like a basic sword," Malos hummed. "Wonder if he'll run off a cliff once we let loose."

Jin snorted at the thought.

Say this much for the man: He was determined. He was also used to walking for long distances without stopping. Jin and Malos kept the same steady ground eating pace for a full four hours, munching on their trail rations as they walked. The mystery Indol insider kept up with them the whole way.

At least until they hit the cliffs. Jin and Malos were able to successfully loose him by scaling the cliffside. The man was no mountaineer; from the clifftop, Jin and Malos saw the man turn back. Now, without his distractions, the two could focus on the job.

They found the monsters’ den up within the curve of a semicircle break in the cliffs. Tufts of grass clung greedily to whatever soil wasn't sand. A couple of the beasts looked like they were variations on ferris; a couple of more looked like grifox. A mixed pride of monsters could spell serious problems down the line; no wonder the Royal Family had stepped in.

"Don't see the Blade. Inside, maybe?" wondered Malos.

Jin loosed his weapon. "It'll come when it realizes they're under attack."

Malos nodded. "You take right. I take left. Pinch them in the middle."

Jin nodded in agreement. Keeping out of the breeze, Jin headed for the right side of the semicircle.

Malos called his sword to him and waited. It wouldn't take long. Just a few minutes more, and then he could get back to Lora. They were going to try that desert tonight. Hold just a little --

Ice blasted into the beasts from the right. The whole pack of fifteen or so howled defiance and either got to their feet or started trying to. Ice had stuck at least three fast.

Howling a war cry, Malos charged in from the left.

A slice-duck-weave-dodge let Malos cut down three beasts. Out the corner of his eye Malos caught Jin freezing two more down by their paws and decapitating a third. A fourth on Malos's side tried to change up dance partners. Malos's black fire took its feet out and his sword took its head. A couple of more tried to bolt towards Jin, liking their odds better against his less flashy Arts.

They always go for the little guy, Malos complained.

Except they hadn't figured out the little guy was the more dangerous of the two Blades. Jin wove through their assaults with the same skill as a weaver moving with their loom. The monsters had numbers, though – had being the key word. Malos cut through near as many as Jin.

Jin crying out in pain distracted Malos for a heartbeat.

"Jin!"

Dealing with the annoyances swiftly, Malos tried to spot Jin. Mikhail's Blade was surrounded by beasts, except none of them were attacking. They were corralling Jin; keeping him contained. But why would --?

There was a flicker in the ether. A literal dark wind slapped upwards underneath Jin's feet.

Two Blades! Malos realized. One was darkness, like him. The other was wind. Wind – ice's opposite.

At the same time Malos realized it, the biggest monster in the pack raised up on its hind legs. Claws way too sharp to be normal – Blade weapons! – sliced through the air. They were fast but Jin was faster.

Except he wasn't.

Time itself seemed to stand frozen. Malos watched as the claws ripped through Jin's vest like it was wet lantern paper. Blood splattered the ground as the claws cut through flesh and bone. A human would have had their heart torn out.

A Blade would have had their Core Crystal shattered.

Malos didn't think. His body moved on its own. All Malos could hear was Mikhail sobbing as Malos had to tell him Jin was gone. All he could feel was a gaping void in his heart at the thought Jin was gone.

Smashing through the ring of beasts, Malos snarled. One winged bird Blade dripped darkness and back-winged away. One beast Blade sunk low to the ground, ready to pounce with wind and claws. The surviving beasts reformed their perimeter. Malos put himself firmly between a groaning Jin and the two Blades.

Target is locked.

Malos didn't know how he knew it. He didn't care. These beasts had tried to kill Jin. They needed to die.

Bolts of searing light fell from the heavens.

Two bolts took out the beast Drivers. The other hundred took out the rest of the monsters, the bits of grass, and the cave complex the monsters had used as a den.

When the lights stopped, the only ones left breathing were Malos – and Jin.

Jin coughed. Groaned, "Malos...?"

Breathing hard Malos knelt next to Jin. "Here. I'm here. You alright?"

Jin's eyes were pained, but also as amused as his smirk. "Restraint. Is a thing."

A stunned laugh escaped Malos before he could stop it. "Seriously, Jin? The restraint lecture? Now?"

"Restraint is a noun for a reason," Jin half wheezed, half chuckled.

"I am going to tell Mikhail you almost died, and then immediately gave me the restraint lecture. Then I'm going to help him pin you and tickle the brains back into you," Malos warned with a relieved laugh.

Jin's wheeze was already gone. He still looked like crap as Malos helped him wobble to his feet. By the time they got back home, Jin would be fully healed, a Blade's healing factor being what it was. Still, that had been too damn close.

"Let's get the claws and Crystals, and get home," Jin requested.

After giving Jin a gentle shove to make sure he'd stay on his feet, Malos got to work grabbing the proof.

Amalthus hadn't been joking. The wrath the Architect's Blade was the wrath of the Architect. Power the likes of which no Blade could match had fallen from the heavens and sundered the earth. The land would recover with time. The monster population...

He vary carefully did not look at what remained of the bodies.

Yes, well, this job has been cooked. Well done. ...Architect, I need to get out of here.

Getting out of here would have to wait. From the way the Wise One had reacted, his companion had been badly wounded. Coming forward to them now would end up with himself as skewered as the monsters. No... He had to wait. At least until the two were on their way.

The two were taking their time. The divine Blade’s companion had a nasty catch to his voice.

Did he just make a joke? he wondered, incredulous. Wait. Restraint is a – has this been done before?!

If the Master Blade had acted so before, and that man had not turned tail and ran, then he was a true companion indeed. It took a strong soul to endure such a miracle unscathed.

I really do want to go back home and hide under my bed, he mused sardonically.

At last the two were far enough away he could no longer hear them. Too frightened and awed by everything, he remained in his hiding spot a spell longer. He absolutely did not want to get the drop on those two; or get dropped on by them.

According to the angle of the shadows, it had been a good two hours since the Architect’s Blade had loosed his power. That should have been plenty of time. Now, all he had to do was get out of the rubble. Nice and easy. His nerves were shot and he knew it.

There was a glint of bright green in the shadows.

"What's this?" he asked aloud. Too much had happened for him not to talk to himself.

Goodness! A cross-shaped emerald crystal! The Wise One or his companion must have dropped it during the fight.

"I'll just be taking you, my dear," he mused to the stone. "Returning you to the Master Blade will be just the excuse I need to speak with him."

Of course it wasn't that easy. The stone was stuck underneath some rubble. Stripping off his gloves, he worked cautiously at the rubble for a good hour. It was worth the cautious hassle: The stone came free unharmed.

"What a warm little stone you are. I do wonder what secrets you hold. ...wait a moment." He held the stone closer for a deeper inspection. "Are you... glowing?"

The stone was indeed glowing. And glowing brighter by the second.

"Oh my," he managed.

The world was filled with light.

It said something about this wreck of a day that Malos never realized his breastplate had been vaporize until after Mikhail and Lora had pounced on Jin. Malos also hadn't realized Jin's mask had been lost in the scuffle. Anybody on the lookout for quick coin would be turning Malos in right now.

Screw it, Malos decided. If Indol was so hot to find him, let 'em. Malos was out of shits to give today.

Satch took one look at the two Core Crystals and pile of claws Malos handed over. Wordless, the brute Blade got out the spare breastplate and mask Malos and Jin had stashed for emergencies.

"Hard coin will be sent by the usual carrier first thing. Get your asses home."

Malos gave Satch a sardonic salute, and got their asses home.

Old Lady Melin took one look at them and immediately ordered all of them to the baths. "I'll cook," she insisted.

By which she meant she'd head down to that hotpot restaurant she adored and bring back takeout. Not having to cook sounded damn good. All Malos wanted to do was get clean, and make sure Jin was actually alright, and sleep. He also felt really damn clingy, to the point he waited to see Lora close the bathroom door behind her before Malos headed for his own bath.

My ether level is empty, Malos realized. Whatever that last Art had been, it had pulled serious amounts of ether from him.

"Fuck."

Malos nearly banged his head against the bathtub edge. Jin. Cursing. Not good.

"Jin?" Mikhail quietly inquired.

Jin walked from the changing room to the bath. He had his armor vest in both hands. With a deliberate twist, Jin yanked a pocket open and upside down. A scrap of cloth fell out.

"The emerald crystal is gone," Jin announced.

"Damn it," Malos concurred with Jin's assessment. "It must have been ripped out when --"

"...ripped out?"

Jin dumped his armor and scooped Mikhail into his arms. "I'm fine. I'm fine. Blades heal fast. Shh, shh, love, Driver mine, I'm fine."

Whimpering, Mikhail buried his face against Jin's neck and shoulders so that Jin's hair almost covered Mikhail's head. Jin rocked the small boy side to side, patting his back, whispering assurances he was there.

"You could ah died," Mikhail knew. His voice was mouse tiny as he spoke.

"To kill a Blade you have to shatter their Core Crystal. None of the monsters got that close," Jin swore.

Mikhail clung tight to Jin and shook with unspent tears. Jin walked over to the tub and settled both himself and Mikhail in with Malos for a much needed soak.

"We'll go back tomorrow to look for it. Neither of us are up to going tonight. Mik' and Lora can help," Malos decided.

Given he was still soothing his frightened Driver, Jin didn't argue.

It also said something that Lora waited outside the boys’ bathroom door for them to emerge. Malos scooped Lora up into his arms and held her close. Jin kept hold of Mikhail as well. Even during dinner of takeout hotpot the Drivers refused to let go of their Blades. Neither Blade was precisely put out by having a child in their respective laps. And it really said something when old Lady Melin did not try and pry the story out of them.

They were lying on their respective beds in the dark quiet safety of their room when Mikhail asked, “Tell me?”

“Two of the monsters had Blades,” Jin began.

Malos listened as Jin retold the fight from his point of view. Jin made a good storyteller; he had a good, strong, clear voice. He could probably get a good amount of gold just reading to people. Maybe they should consider a career change to theater. Fangirls had to be safer to deal with than monsters. With the pay from this job, it… might be something to look into.

“Did Siren send the light spears?” Lora asked.

“Furies’ Arrow,” Malos named it. “Yeah. She did.”

“Should thank her,” Lora mumbled, halfway lost to slumber.

“Thank her,” Mikhail slurred through closing dreams.

Malos kept his voice low as he promised, “Siren said you’re welcome.”

There was a quiet hitch in the children’s breathing. The ether link between Malos and Lora dulled with the onset of dreams.

Into the dark Malos asked, “Maybe we should drop the mercenary thing.”

“You’d be board inside a week,” Jin prognosticated.

This was true. “Fighting isn’t all a Blade is meant to be. Is it?”

Jin chuckled softly, “If the Wise One says so, it must be true.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I know.” A sigh heartfelt and deep. “You’re right. A Blade is meant to do more than fight. But we can’t care for the people we love if we don’t use every tool we have with decisive wisdom. If that means we fight, so be it.”

Protect those they loved. Stand, and move forward. Yeah. That… felt right.

Closing his eyes as he gave his own heartfelt sigh of, “’night big brother,” Malos yielded himself to dreams.

Mornings, Jin decided, were not meant for people who had seen their (very short) lives flash before their eyes.

Titan’s foot – they needed to get a decent curtain. Sunlight hitting his eyes was a crappy way to wake up. That thought led to another: If the sun was high enough to be hitting him in the eye, what time was it? Rolling over reluctantly, Jin cracked his eyes open. The other three beds in their room were all empty. Shaking his head, Jin sat up. He must have truly been out of it for the entity of his family to have gotten past his bed without waking him.

Jin attended to his ablutions then headed for the small dining area. He announced himself with a, “Good morning.”

Various good mornings answered him. Mikhail put down his porridge and walked over to Jin for a morning hug. Scooping Mikhail up, Jin headed for the covered bowl that was his share of breakfast.

Malos passed the sweetener to go with an update: “Pay was delivered about an hour ago. Lora and Mik’ made a list of what they need. As soon as you’ve got food in you, we’re hitting up the market for two days’ provisions and the camp gear.”

“And we remember not to touch it if we find it,” Mikhail reiterated.

Jin squeezed Mikhail’s shoulder in reassurance and fondness. Mikhail’s grin had a faintly worried edge not even eating breakfast could hide. Dumping his preferred amount of sweetener into the porridge, Jin tucked in.

The morning was as late as Jin had thought. By the time everyone had finished breakfast and cleanup, the markets were starting to swell with lunchtime shoppers hungry for deals and for meals. Weaving through the crowds slowed their progress from shop to shop. Fed up with nearly being stepped on, Mikhail requested being carried. Jin obliged, likewise fed up with his Driver running the risk of being kicked by inattentive shoppers.

They were debating which variation of over cooked jerky would taste the least worst when there was a shout through the crowd.

“Hey! You!”

Various shoppers turned. Mikhail likewise turned in Jin’s grip since he’d already put his two gold coins into the jerky debate. When the sharp voice yelled again, Mikhail tugged on Jin’s hair.

“Mmm?” Jin asked absently. Peppercorn coated armu jerky didn’t sound too horrible…

“There’s a crazy lady with a green Core Crystal heading for us,” Mikhail reported. When Jin hummed affirmative, Mikhail amended his report: “Her Core Crystal looks like Malos’s.”

Malos jerked back as though he had been burned. Jin felt scorched, himself. Malos, Jin, and Lora all turned slowly in the direction Mikhail was pointing.

Crazy lady was accurate: Breathing hard enough her buxom bosom heaved, the woman had her balled fists at her side and her shoulders hunched. Her gold eyes flashed with frustration as she advanced on them. In the bright sunlight, her blond hair shimmered close to the color of gold thread. The top of the woman’s head came up to Malos’s shoulder, but that only made her more intimidating, not less. And her white trimmed gold with green highlights armor – or lack of same – denoted as clear as her Core Crystal that the woman was a Blade.

“You!” Shaking her fist she bore down on Malos. “I have been looking all over this town for you! Do you have any idea how big this place is? It took hours! Hours!”

Malos paled. “Please tell me you didn’t have the bad luck to resonate with a monster,” he gulped.

“Thank Father for small favors – no. I didn’t.” The woman’s sharp eyes lost a little of their furry as she took in Lora hiding behind Malos. “Sorry. Just. You did not make it easy to find you.”

“Kind of a reason for that. Someone put a bounty on me,” Malos explained.

“On both of you, technically,” Jin amended on a guess.

The woman’s eyebrows bounced up towards her green gemstone feathered headband. “Did they now.”

Jin offered the hand not holding Mikahil. “Jin.”

Before Malos’s sister Blade could introduce herself, someone in the crowd yelled, “Mythra? Mythra! You can’t tear off and – oh.” A familiar hooded figure bumbled his way to a stop next to them. “I see you found them.”

“Did the guy who put a bounty on you look like this?” the female Blade demanded, jerking her thumb at the newcomer.

“Bounty?” wondered the hooded man.

“Probably.” Malos’s grin gained a pained sarcastic edge. “Let me guess. Your Driver?”

“Got it in one.”

“What bounty?” demanded the man.

“We should talk about this somewhere out of the crowd. The inn?” Jin suggested.

Malos hesitated; took a second look at the Blade who had been the green colored stone; took a longer look at the bemused hooded man. Taking Lora’s hand in his, Malos concurred, “The inn.”

They took the most direct route back home they could. Lora kept close to Malos, sneaking glances at the woman and her mysterious Driver. Mikhail kept quiet as he always did around strangers. The woman’s eyes took in everything around as they walked. The hooded man seemed torn between being flummoxed and being awed.

“So you guys have been staying in an inn?” asked the woman.

“Since we got here – what, ten months back now?” Malos hummed.

“Ten months,” Jin concurred after a minute to count.

“Its less an inn and more a room rental. Got four good beds, a nice bath, and a kitchen. The landlady keeps it clean and in good repair.” Malos shrugged in a nonverbal, What more could you want from life, eh?

“I got to stay in an inn last night. It was nice,” mused the woman – Mythra, she’d been called? As they arrived and Malos opened the front door, she stated, “It did not look anything like this.”

“I really don’t think this is a proper inn, Mythra,” the hooded man mumbled.

“Its not. Its home,” Mikhail declared at a loud whisper.

“Well. That makes it just perfect, then,” the hooded man chuckled. He flipped his hood back showing off short naturally spiky hair that was a silver gray counterpart to the Blade’s golden locks. Clear of the hood’s shadows, Jin could see what Malos meant: The man’s eyes were as fierce and golden as Lora’s, taking in every detail with care.

“Hey Lady Melin! We’re back early!” Malos warned, shouting loud enough for the matron to hear if she were in the back.

“So I hear,” shuffled out of the kitchen. Old Lady Melin took her time walking out to the front. “I take it the camping trip is –”

“Oh no,” said the man in horror.

Old Lady Melin prostrated herself on the ground.

“Oh, no, please don’t,” requested the horrified man.

“You really weren’t kidding about that being a thing,” said Mythra in a mix of amusement and concern.

“Prince Addam. You honor this old bag of bones with your divine grace.”

Malos, Jin, Lora, and Mikhail exchanged looks. “Prince?” Jin spoke up.

“Oh please don’t,” begged the man.

Old Lady Melin recited, “Lord Addam Origo. Fourth in line to the Dragon Throne. Son of the Emperor, may the sun rise eternal over the Golden Seat. Most divine and austere Prince of the Golden Country. The Wyrm of Books.”

The man managed to lift his hand from his face. “I’ll take that last title. Please, disregard all the others. I’m merely Addam. Just Addam. A boy with the good fortune to have been born into a house with plenty, and with just as good a fortune to have as my sole occupation staying out of my siblings’ ways.”

“As the Champion of Grievances wills.” Old Lady Melin rose smoothly to her feet with a well hidden wince.

“Titan’s foot. You heard that story? Its not even a week old!”

“Good stories travel faster than a Titan’s wings, O Defender of the Weak, Innocent, and Lost.” Old Lady Melin gave a deliberate blink in Jin, Malos, Mikhail, and Lora’s direction.

“Just” Addam sighed and raised his eyes heavenward in a silent, Why me?

“You look like you have a great deal to discuss.” To Jin and company, old Lady Melin directed, “Make use of the parlor, dears. I’ll go put the water on for tea.”

The parlor was as shabby as the rest of the place. It consisted of a single long rectangle of a table that had enough seating for eight – if the eight didn’t mind lacking elbows. Six could sit comfortably if they kept a close eye on their ends. The less said about the choice of rugs for the room, the better. Jin wound up at the psudo head of the table with Mikhail in his lap, Lora on Jin’s left, Malos on Lora’s left, Mythra on Malos’s left, and Addam on Mythra’s left. A small spot remained on Jin’s right between himself and Addam.

Jin slipped off his mask and handed it to Mikhail for safe keeping. Malos tugged off the breastplate and tossed it to the table’s top.

Addam gave a faint noise. It sounded suspiciously like a squee.

Addam rubbed the back of his head as he blushed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, its just… I’ve been studying the ancient history of Alrest for all my life. To not meet just one, but two people worked with the Architect at Alrest’s birth. Its very exciting.”

Malos looked a question to Mythra.

“He was like that all day yesterday,” Mythra confirmed.

“I have so many questions,” Addam gushed.

“I stopped answering around midnight last night. He’s started writing them down,” Mythra warned.

Addam shook as if he’d gotten water down his spine. “Forgive me. My manners have abandoned me. We should do introductions first.” Addam gestured to himself. “My name is Addam. I’m an amateur historian by choice, adventurer at large by trade. I have the great honor and fortune to be Mythra’s Driver.”

Mythra gave a halfhearted wave. “’zup.”

Jin looked the question to Malos. Malos returned it with a bounced eyebrow. Nodding, Jin introduced himself: “Jin. My Driver, Mikhail. Mikhail’s sister Lora.” Neither child did more than give Addam and Mythra looks. “My younger brother Malos.”

“Brother?” Mythra perked.

“Jin’s Driver and mine are siblings. Makes us siblings,” Malos replied a hint defensively.

“Aww. That’s cute.” Mythra hesitated. “Does that make me related to the Royal House of Torna? Those guys sound so stuck up!”

“Blood makes me related to them. I rather think you have a choice in the matter,” Addam mused with a grin made three parts of goofballness. The goofball grin faded a bit in light of the fact, “Er… I honestly have no clue where to go from here. Mythra has made it clear I’m not allowed to ask any more questions until I have a majority written down. Likely wise; I have so many questions.”

“You mentioned that,” Jin hummed.

“I got a question of my own. Were you the one who started circulating those mercenary writs?” Malos asked.

Addam winced, “Guilty. I’ve already sent word the writ has been fulfilled. You’ll stop seeing them promptly. I presume that is why you’ve been going about with your Core Crystals hidden?”

“The idea of being accosted doesn’t sit well with me,” Malos snarked.

“I am sorry about that. It was the only idea I had to try and find out more information. Ten months ago when the Artifice descended, I was too witless to keep eye on where it was landing.”

“Artifice?” Lora echoed the odd word to herself.

“He’s talking about Siren,” Malos clarified.

“Siren,” Addam echoed reverently.

“Why’d you call down Siren? You know our Artifices are supposed to stay put,” Mythra asked.

Malos shrugged, “We needed to get out of Torigoth. Six thousand for boat tickets was outside our price range.”

“I – I’m sorry. Did you just say six thousand gold coins for tickets from Torigoth, Gormott, to Torna?” Addam demanded.

“Nopon traders have a sideline as extortionists,” Malos quipped.

“Obviously,” Addam hissed.

“Why come here? Torna, I mean,” Mythra clarified. “If you just needed to get out of Torigoth, you could have gone anywhere, right? Why here?”

“Why not here?” Malos countered.

Mythra raised her hand to answer. Stopped, and slowly lowered her hand. Addam chuckled – and ducked when Mythra made to backhand him upside the head.

“Do you have any long-term goals?” Addam inquired.

“Make some memories,” Jin and Malos answered simultaneously. Lora hid a blush within her furs and Mikhail couldn’t swallow a giggle in time.

Addam chuckled, “A lofty goal indeed. I was wondering if you had goals that were a touch more tangible?”

Malos gave Addam a hairy eyeball. “Why?”

“Well you see,” Addam began simply, “I have a proposition for you. How would you four like to come with me to the capital city? Think of it as a long term mercenary contract. I get to pick your brains on the trip; you get some good coin for your time. Memories of adventure are guaranteed!”

Mikhail looked at Jin. Jin looked the question to Lora. Lora blinked up at Malos. Malos looked the question back to Mikhail and Jin.

Jin drew out the silence. “We are here to make some memories,” he mused.

Addam’s grin forecast interesting times on their horizon.

Chapter Text

It was easy enough to say they would go with Addam to the capital. Actually going was proving to be something else. It was hard for all of them to say goodbye to old Lady Melin. It was just as hard to tell the odd jobs group they were leaving for a while. There was a feeling, a tiny niggle of instinct, which told the siblings they would not be coming back.

When Satch and his Driver promised to keep old Lady Melin company, it hurt. It hurt worse to watch old Lady Melin, the professor, and everyone who could be spared waving them goodbye from the town gates.

Mikhail buried himself in Jin's arms. Lora squeezed Malos's hand tight. Leaving a place they wanted to come back to was a novel experience. It was also surprisingly sad.

"You can come back any time, you know," Addam told them gently. "Torna is a free country. There are no laws in place barring law abiding persons from free travel."

No member of the quintet said anything.

"How far is it to the capital?" Mythra asked.

"By foot, it would take a month. We'll be taking a ship, however, never you worry. It's three days to the air docks if we keep this pace," Addam reported cheerfully.

"Air docks? You have airships in Torna?" Malos inquired.

"There's a fleet of Titans who have graced us with their wings. They get exercise, get mostly left alone, and free food. In exchange, we mortals get to stave off sore feet!" Addam chuckled. The prince had his hood up, but Malos was pretty sure he was smirking as he asked, "Have any of you ever met a Titan?"

Various nods no.

"You're in for a glorious treat! The Titans born of our motherland are the greatest Titans in the world."

Mythra puffed, "That was totally an advertising slogan."

Addam laughed, "Yes, well, I am biased." The hooded prince bounced on his toes. "I'm still rather delirious over the fact this trip is even happening. Not to worry. I won't pelt you with questions. Yet."

"It's the yet that makes me nervous," Mythra quipped.

"Come now, Mythra! Where's your sense of inquiry?" Addam demanded jovially.

Mythra deadpanned, "Back on the World Tree."

Malos snorted, "Remind me when we break for camp to show you the book on the World Tree Lora picked up. Whoever this Amalthus guys is, he's an idiot."

Addam tripped over his own feet. "Brother Amalthus of the Indoline Praetorium is the only living soul to have succeeded in the pilgrimage to Elysium!"

"And half the crap he's written about it is bull," Malos reported.

"But... But...!"

"Malos is writing a book of rebuttals. It's twenty pages long," Lora reported. And nearly ducked behind Malos when she realized she'd spoken aloud.

Addam staggered as though he had been stabbed. The man moaned, "Woe what cruel misrepresentations we mortals have made of the Architect's designs!"

Mythra snorted an accusation: "Ham."

Mikhail was giving Jin, Malos, and Lora concerned looks. The looks Mikhail received in return were likewise concerned.

"Is he always like this?" Malos asked in an aside to Mythra.

"I'm going to guess yes?" At their looks, Mythra pointed out, "Hey! I've only known him for two days!"

The siblings exchanged glances. This was already shaping up to be too much of an adventure.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll try to tone down my over-dramatic tendencies. It's a habit I picked up to put off politicians. Amazing how many stuck up sods leave you alone if they think you're a touch nuts," Addam mused.

"Just a touch?" Mythra quipped.

Addam laughed, a short snort of mirth. "Your quick wit does you in good stead, Mythra. Father's always telling us lazy layabouts to keep our wits about us. The game of politics is cutthroat." Addam lowered his voice to impart a secret: "I much prefer adventuring. You always know where the monsters stand when they come at you!"

"You've gone on several adventures?" Jin fished.

Addam took the bait: "Several, indeed! My first one was when I was about Mikhail's age. Of course, comparatively speaking, it wasn't an adventure. The Forbidden West Wing of the palace didn't have any monsters in it. Spiders the size of a grown man's fist – that, it had."

"...spiders?" Lora meeped.

Addam gave an agreeing shudder. "All over the place. I was armed with my trusty knife; but I rather fondly wished I had a torch or lamp."

The remainder of the day was filled with Addam's adventures. ...at least up until the monsters got rambunctious.

Jin eyed the flat bed of cleared land Addam had called a traveler's waypoint. Outside of a well used fire pit and a couple of stone benches the area had nothing of note.

"There's a fresh stream right through the woods here," Addam was indicating. "The Tornan government tries to keep rest areas like these in good condition to encourage travel across the Titan."

Jin set their pack down on one of the stone benches. Mikhail hopped up on top the bench to assist with unpacking the night's provisions. His smaller hands worked around Jin's to tap on the well secured spices. Smiling, Jin pulled the spices out.

"Whatcha thinking?" Malos inquired.

"Depends on what we catch," Jin hummed.

Malos asked, "Hey, Addam. What's the game like around here?"

"Er... I'm not sure. I usually stick with rations, personally," Addam admitted, pulling said rations from his own pack.

The siblings gave one another identical looks. Their expressions all stated, Yeah... no.

"Well, it's either that or starve. I can't cook!" Addam confessed.

"Thank Father, Jin can," Malos noted. To Jin, Malos asked, "Hunting or water?"

"Water. There may be fish," Jin decided.

"Ice fishing," Mikhail giggled. Jin chuckled in kind, ruffling his Driver's hair.

"Ice fishing...?" Addam echoed.

"I get it. You're ice element, right?" At Jin's affirmative, Mythra guessed, "You can cause a temperature shock in the water. Smaller fish go belly-up, but the larger ones are mostly unaffected."

Addam blinked when the siblings confirmed Mythra had the right of it (more or less). Rubbing at his chin, Addam noted, "That would take very fine ether control to execute."

"Jin's awesome," Lora stated simply. Mikhail nodded affirmative; Malos chuckled his concurring opinion. Jin swallowed down a blush.

"Where, exactly, did you say you were from again?" Addam inquired.

"Back end of the back end of Gormott," Malos answered.

"...right." From his look, Addam didn't buy it – but wasn't going to press.

The fish were too small to make a meal, however, and so demonstrations were not forthcoming. When it came to red meat, though, they were in luck: A wild boar picked a fight with Jin. It lost. The boar was on the small side, attesting to its lack of skill. The majority of its meat was stringy and tough; good for jerky, but not so much for dinner. What parts were palatable, Jin roasted alongside foraged herbs and tubers. The rest he set up on planks – easy enough to make given the abundance of tree limbs available – seasoned them, and set them up for cooking into jerky strips.

Dinner was quiet. After dinner was likewise quiet. Mikhail went promptly to sleep; Lora lingered a little longer before joining him. The watch schedule was set and before long their camp was quiet with slumber.

In the dark of the night, Mythra rose from her bedroll. Quietly, she made her stealthy way across towards the nearest tree. After a slight hesitation to get used to the night's lack of light Mythra began to climb. At the tree's highest branch, Mythra turned to see a much larger tree in the distance.

She wasn't quite sure how long she stayed there staring before another person joined her.

"Hey," Mythra acknowledged.

"Hey," Malos greeted. They stood in silence for a while. "Had to see it, huh?"

Mythra nodded, a shallow dip of her head. Her hand went to her Core Crystal. "Do you... remember it? Elysium?"

"Yeah. It's clear, but Father..." Malos trailed off.

"Flashes. Like fat fizzling in a campfire."

"Yeah."

Silence held them for a beat.

"You get the feeling we're not supposed to be here?" Mythra dared to voice her fears.

"Supposed to or not, we're here now," Malos hummed; not dismissive. His voice gained a teasing edge: "Maybe we're stolen goods."

Mythra snorted, "Or some divine test."

"Careful with that one. Some of the religious types might think you're serious."

"Point." Mythra tapped her fingers on the tree's trunk. "I'm going to ask Addam to keep quiet about me being a Master Blade. I just want to be the same as any other Blade."

"Right there with you. But if –"

"Yeah. We're not doormats. If someone tries to walk over us or our Drivers, they're going to loose a foot."

Silence held again.

"Did they seriously call us the Wise Ones?" Mythra demanded.

Malos snickered.

During the next day’s travels, Lora and Mikhail took turns reading aloud the fourth chapter from Lora’s book. It seemed like every other sentence there was a protest from Mythra or a snicker from Malos. Addam’s own reaction was to sink into despondency.

“We mortals really have bollixed things up,” Addam bemoaned.

Mythra pat the top of Addam’s head in a there, there, gesture.

Shoulders slumping, Addam realized, “No wonder you were sent to Alrest. The Architect must be furious.”

Mythra looked a question to Malos. Malos gave a one-shouldered shrug, cautious not to dislodge Lora from her seat on his right shoulder. Around the back of Malos’s head, Lora looked over to where Mikhail was sitting on Jin’s shoulders. Mikhail looked as nervous as Lora.

“Yeah,” Mythra drew out the word, “about that...” The light Blade took a steady breath. “I can’t really remember Father.”

“...what?”

“Same,” Malos confirmed. “Got a rough idea of what he looks like.”

Mythra scoffed, “He does not look like,” her tone darkened with dramatics, “no one man but all men. Father looks like just – a guy. An average, nothing out of the ordinary, really old human male. And hey! Amalthus mostly got the description of Elysium right!”

“Mostly,” Malos concurred; he half closed his eyes, drawing upon the memory. “One hill. One tree. Lots of grass. A lake between the hill and an empty town. The whole thing ringed by a forest too dense to see through.” Malos gave another little shrug. “Its more or less like any other place I’ve seen in Alrest, except empty. No monsters, no people; nothing but green and blue.”

“It sounds dead,” Jin opined.

“Perhaps that is why the Architect banished man from Elysium. There was some horror that removed all but base life from it, and so we were sent to Alrest to seek refuge.” Addam hesitated, drawing up his courage to ask, “Or is that old chestnut of a tale more misconstrued notions as well?”

Malos and Mythra exchanged looks. It was Mythra who spoke up: “What old chestnut?”

“You mean the story about how the Architect took pity on everyone?” Lora tentatively asked.

“That would be the one. The tale is as old as Alrest, and with as many variations as there are people. Which is the one you’ve heard, Lora, Mikhail?” Addam inquired

Lora shook her head and added a disclaimer: “I don’t remember it real well. It went something like… The Architect got mad at everybody and threw everyone into the Cloud Sea. Then he saw everyone drowning. While he was still hopping mad and wouldn’t let anybody back, he did take pity on the people.”

“He sent the Titans,” Mikhail recalled, voice soft.

“Ah. That’s one of the versions the Praetorium has set as its dogma.” Addam held up a finger as though preparing a lecture. “The way we tell the story in Torna, it was not the Titans the Architect sent to mankind’s aid. It was Blades.”

“Then where did the Titans come from?” Lora wondered, confused.

“From the Blades.”

Lora and Mikhail’s jaws dropped. Jin was likewise stunned.

Addam gave the group a sage’s nod. “The first thirteen Blades became the first thirteen Titans whose names have since been lost to antiquity. From those thirteen Titans were born Blades, who partnered with mankind to aid them in all life’s struggles. When those Blades’ Core Crystals reached their natural end, they returned to the mother Titan who had borne their Crystals, and themselves became Titans. Those Titans in turn gave birth to new Core Crystals, who likewise partnered with mankind as Blades, and who will likewise return to their mother Titan to become Titans themselves. This endless cycle of Core Crystals becoming Blades, Blades becoming Titans, Titans birthing Core Crystals – this, we of Torna revere above all other aspects of the Architect’s designs.”

“Seriously?” Mikhail’s squeak rang loud in the silence.

“Can’t speak for all the flourish-y religious trappings, but – yeah. Blades eventually do become Titans,” Mythra confirmed.

Lora looked at Malos. Malos likewise confirmed, “Yeah. That’s a Blade’s life-cycle in a nutshell. Takes a good handful of centuries before a Blade reaches the point of becoming a Titan, though.”

“At least five,” Mythra noted.

“Five centuries total awake as a Blade, not just five centuries period,” Malos amended. He gave Jin a warm look out the corner of his eye. “You’re probably going to be continent sized.”

“How…?” Jin tried to ask; his voice trailed off into stunned silence.

“How can I tell what kind of Titan you’ll become?” Malos guessed Jin’s question. At Jin’s shaky nod, Malos chuckled, “Because you’re that awesome. Relax,” Malos nudged Jin with his elbow, cautious not to rattle Mikhail, “it won’t be during Mik’ or Lora’s lifetime.”

“Blades don’t become Titans while they’ve still got a Driver, unless their Driver gets to be seriously old. Like, a thousand years old,” Mythra explained. She gave Jin an assessing stare. “Yeah. Way the ether flows react around you? Small to mid continent sized, at least.”

Jin eyed both Blades, expression a clear shout of, I don’t know if I should be horrified, embarrassed, or flattered by this discussion.

Addam saved Jin further embarrassment by noting, “I’m not surprised you’re unaware of the cycle. Its not much acknowledged outside of Torna. Several countries much prefer their versions which omits the part about Blades becoming Titans. Makes it easier to do modifications, I suppose...” Addam waved the thought off. “Never you mind my ramblings. Its nice to know we’ve got the right end of the stick for at least one of the Architect’s designs.

“Though do allow me one more curiosity, if you will. Do you figure the Architect send you to Alrest to amend our misunderstandings?”

Mythra shrugged. Malos looked a question to Lora, then to Mikhail and Jin. Jin gave a subtle shrug; Mikhail looked pensive. Resolve firming, Lora sat up straight on Malos’s shoulder.

“I stole them.”

Addam nearly tripped over his own feet. Sputtering, Addam flipped his hood back so as to look Lora clearly in the eye.

“I stole Malos’s and Mythra’s Core Crystals,” Lora elaborated.

“We were gonna sell them,” Mikhail softly confessed.

“I was going to sell them,” Lora corrected. “Mikhail didn’t know anything about it until after I woke Malos.”

“I hope we were going to fetch a better price than boat tickets,” Mythra snarked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Boat tickets, dinner, a nice bed. You know. The usual stuff orphans tend to run short on,” Malos quipped, light tone at odds with his serious expression.

Mythra winced, acknowledging her tactlessness.

“That answers my questions regarding your parents’ opinions on your having awoken Blades,” Addam mumbled to himself. Steadying himself (emotionally, at any rate), Addam noted, “It seems the Architect’s designs run deep, indeed. That a worthy Driver for the Architect’s Blade brave –”

“My mother was a whore and my dad her pimp. I’m not important or brave – or worthy!” Lora squeaked.

“You are too! You protected me when he tried to kill me!” Mikhail protested.

“But I couldn’t stop him! Jin had to –” Lora bit her lip to cut off the flow of words.

Addam had stopped walking. They all had. But it was Mythra who voiced a quiet, stunned, and horrified, “What happened?”

The two children looked away from everyone. Jin gently eased Mikhail so he was held safely in Jin’s arms. Malos likewise lowered Lora so she could hide her face against his chest.

“It is as Lora said. The man she and Mikahil lived with used the connections he made bartering a woman’s body to gain access to a castle vault. From that vault, he stole a Core Crystal, whose value was greater than any other trinket the vault contained. It took him six years to do so,” Jin began simply, his tone neutral, eyes icy warning.

“I was gonna steal it and sell it,” Mikhail murmured, voice almost too quite to hear.

“Except you awoke the Blade instead,” Addam guessed, his own voice soft.

“He was going to kill Mikhail!” Lora blurted.

“Naturally. Blades don’t fetch as high a price as Core Crystals.” If Addam’s tone got any more bitter, it could have been used for seasoning trail rations.

“I disagreed with the man’s treatment of my Driver and sister,” Jin stated blunt as an iceberg to the foot.

“If its any consolation, if I’d been there, I’d have killed the bastard myself.” Addam ran his hand roughly through his hair. “I can guess the rest. Architect, I wish I couldn’t. You grabbed everything that wasn’t nailed down and got the bloody hell out of there. It wasn’t safe to remain. Especially not – Titan’s foot. If you had stayed, whatever passed for nobility could have executed Mikhail for murder to forcibly get the Core Crystal back – and never the damn mind it was self-defense.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mythra demanded.

“There’s a damn list of reasons why I bloody well prefer monsters to politicians. Situations just like this are on there!” Addam snarled. The blond was pacing back and forth across the road, words spilling from him in clipped tones. “Two children and two Blades on the run. Architect. No wonder you went mercenary for a profession. No one asks a mercenary for their life story. Pay can be decent if you’re good.”

“Jin really is that good,” Malos confirmed.

“So I’ve seen,” Addam acknowledged.

“But you wouldn’t have just stood around if,” Mythra began; she cut herself off as she realized, “Shit. No. You weren’t awake yet?”

“No, I wasn’t.” Malos rubbed soothing circles along Lora’s back. “Lora thought our Core Crystals were some kind of relic. They needed coin for the trip off Gormott.”

“I dropped them,” Lora whimpered.

“You caught Malos’s Core Crystal when it bounced,” Mikhail recalled.

“Which is proof right there I have the best luck in all Alrest,” Malos murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his Driver’s crown. Blushing with a mix of emotions, embarrassment paramount, Lora tried to hide herself in her furs.

“And that brings us to where we met,” Addam guessed. “Malos used an Artifice to spirit you from Gormott, thus avoiding blackmail from glutinous merchants. You settled in as mercenaries.” Addam took a deep breath; let it out in a gusty sighed, “Then my bounty requests for information caught up with you, wrecking the lives you’d built for yourselves.”

“Disrupted, not wrecked,” Jin corrected.

Addam ran his hand through his hair again. “You realize,” Addam hesitated; pressed on with, “This proves Amalthus was a liar at best.”

“Won’t be a problem if you keep your mouth shut,” Malos noted.

“Shut on which point? Your Drivers’ history? Your being a Master Blade? All of the above, I wager.” Addam sighed, “The former will be easier than the latter. My social standing requires any Blade I awaken be known to the king, at the least. Further, I am called upon from time to time to attend various functions my siblings cannot otherwise tend to themselves. Sooner or later there’s going to be a run in with a dignitary from Indol. Given how he’s been rising in the ranks, that dignitary is more likely than not to be Brother Amalthus.”

“And you’ll be shocked, shocked, to be told I’m a so-called Wise One,” Mythra decided, arms crossed loosely.

“I did have some suspicions; however, since everyone knows a Master Blade selects their Driver, and I found your Core Crystal in the remains of a monster den, well.” Addam’s chuckle had a dark edge. “Why ever would I have suspected the Blade fortune granted I find was greater than any other?”

Mythra patted Addam’s spiky hair flat. “Good Driver.”

Rolling his eyes, Addam shoved Mythra’s hand away.

“And if you get asked about us?” Jin inquired.

“That has no need for an explanation. You’re not the first group of oddballs and miscreants I’ve brought into the hallowed halls of the palace. Actually, I rather think Minoth will be grateful for the company,” Addam mused.

“Who’s Minoth?” Mythra asked.

“A Flesh Eater who saved my life, nearly at the cost of his own. A Judecium Flesh Eater, specifically. Judecium is rather… Have I mentioned I prefer monsters to politicians?”

“You mentioned that, yeah,” Malos quipped.

Addam resumed heading down the trail. “One good tale of trails deserves another, I think. From the top, then. Judecium is a country trying to maintain itself through military superiority. They’ve decided the best way to do so is to brush off an old legend. To abridge tales not meant for young ears, the stories tell of Blades desperate for miracles eating the flesh of their willing Drivers to survive when everything otherwise seems hopelessly lost.”

Lora shuddered, “That sounds horrible.” Mikhail whimpered his agreement.

“They all are. I strongly recommend none of you look them up until you’re at least my age.” Addam paused for their various affirmatives. “Yes, well. Judecium took the legend and… tinkered with it. They’ve figured out a way to, in essence, mass produce Flesh Eaters in a sterilized laboratory. From what Minoth’s told me, its really quite amazing. Horrifying, but amazing. Actually, that’s how Minoth and I met: I was spelunking in a cave when a rather amazing yet horrifying arachno dropped down upon my head.”

So much like yesterday, the miles was swallowed up by Addam’s tales of adventure.

“Dear Minoth,

“Consider this my attempt to get ahead of your well deserved, I told you so. Yes, I did bite off more than I could chew on this folly. No, it wasn’t enough to get me killed (though some monsters did try). Please don’t shred this letter just yet. I’ve got important news!

“I’m bringing some friends to the capital. Could you charm the house-staff into making up some guest rooms? We’re going to need at least four rooms at a minimum. Five if you can manage it. I’m not sure if they’ll all want their own rooms or not given they’re a tight knit bunch of hooligans, but I’d like to insure they have the option. Two of them are rather like yourself, and two are rather not. As for the fifth, I’m not even sure where to start. Hasn’t even been two days and she’s already quite fed up with hauling my unworthy backside out of trouble. You two should get along like a house on fire.

“We plan to reach the air docks within four days. If we’re in luck, Nuncle will be in a willing enough mood to transport us direct to the palace. If we’re out of luck, we’ll be trudging in on foot through the old path. You know the one. If you don’t see my charming face by a week after this letter is posted, then things have gone horribly wrong (again). I expect to hear a full accounting of all the good gossip!

“Your friend, Addam.”

Carefully folding up the letter, Minoth eyed the skies. The letter had been posted five days ago, and had reached him yesterday. If a Titan didn’t drop down into the palace moat within the next two hours, then either Azurda was in no mood to be cordial, or Addam was running behind. Given the number of times Minoth could recall Addam arriving anywhere in a timely fashion –

The unmistakable haunting sound of a Tornan flying Titan caroled off the palace walls.

“Titan’s foot,” Minoth chuckled, heading towards Azurda’s usual landing spot. “He actually got in on time for once!”

Neat as an assassin’s blade, the one horned dragon Titan back-winged to land in the slice of moat which had been renovated for his pleasure. ...well, his and any other flying Titan the Royal Family could beg, borrow, or bribe into serving as carriages. Say this much for the Royal Family: They knew how to cultivate a resource.

Even washed out monsters like me.

Shaking the depression clear, Minoth got close enough to hear Azurda’s good-natured banter with his passengers. Someone – Minoth was putting bets on Addam himself – made a quip that had Azurda snorting back a belly laugh.

“Ahoy! Minoth!” Addam waived down from Azurda’s back.

Minoth pitched his voice to be heard across the immediate area: “Behold a miracle! Addam Origo, fourth in line to the throne, king of the hearts of every lady of past her majority, arrives on time!”

“He is rather poor at being punctual,” Azurda concurred.

“Go shove your snout in the clouds, both of you,” Addam laughed, waving them both off. To Minoth he asked, “Did you get my letter?”

Minoth grabbed the guide rope for the gangplank and threw it up to Addam. Addam caught it along with Minoth’s huffed, “Yes, I got your letter. And yes, I have the guest rooms set up. All five of them.”

“Excellent! After three days straight on the road, we could all use a little time in honest beds! Here, Mythra, would you mind holding this taunt?” Addam handed the rope to someone Minoth could not see. Hands clear, Addam waved.

Minoth tossed the pull rope across. Addam caught it, and waited for Minoth to confirm, “All clear!” Then Addam gave the rope a good tug.

The gangplank followed the guide up to Azurda’s back. Minoth waited for Addam to confirm, “Secure!” before heading up the gangplank.

Minoth stopped when he got to the top. Addam was grinning like a loon, like normal. A blond busty beauty of a Blade had her hands on her hips, golden eyes giving Minoth as much a look as Minoth gave her. Behind the woman was a Blade in white and silver armor with a small child hiding behind his coattails. There was a third Blade present as well, in black armor with a bulkier build than the Blade in white. Hiding a bit behind the Blade was a girl wearing so many furs she was practically swimming in them.

Minoth crossed his arms. “Addam.”

Addam’s grin was pure innocence.

“Addam,” Minoth repeated, upping his glare by a degree. “What have you been told about kidnapping princesses?” While Addam snorfled on the word princess, Mintoh made a show of bowing to the teen hiding behind the dark armored Blade. “Forgive Addam his indiscretions, your majesty.”

The girl shyly poked her head out around the Blade. “I… I’m not a princess...”

“No? With fair beauty such as yours, I could have sworn...” Minoth made a show of rubbing his chin in confusion.

Addam wrapped an arm around Minoth’s shoulders and yanked him over to try and ruffle his hair. “This,” Addam began, pausing with an oomph as Minoth forcibly slipped free, “is my good friend Minoth. He fancies himself a wordsmith. Some day, he’ll write a play good enough to be performed in Olethro.”

“Ha! Like Uraya would let any play not written by their own be performed in their grandest playhouse,” Minoth scoffed.

“Before you get too far ahead of yourselves?” Azurda intervened, craning his neck around to give them all a good glare.

“Right! Right! Sorry, Nuncle, sorry!” Addam apologized. With a little flourish of a bow, Addam gestured to the gangplank. “Ladies first.”

The blond Blade’s eye roll at Addam included Minoth. “Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here before Addam’s idiocy starts catching.” The blond hesitated a moment to insure the gangplank would hold before heading down it.

The Blade in white gave the gangplank a suspicious look. The question looked over to the Blade in black got a nod affirmative. Nodding himself in turn, the Blade in white picked up the child behind his coattails, and –

“No need to show off, Jin!” Addam protested.

Having landed from his leap, the Blade in white set the child back down and offered his hand. The boy held the Blade’s hand tight. Barely a second after, the Blade in black armor carrying the not-princess likewise lept to shore.

“Showoffs. The both of them,” Addam mock accused. Stomping down the gangplank, Addam called over, “Its a perfectly good gangplank you know!”

Minoth shared a look with Azurda. Azurda chuckled, then pointedly nodded towards the gangplank. Nodding acceptance, Minoth loosened the pull rope first. “Addam,” he called over.

“Right!” Addam acknowledged.

Catching the rope as Minoth tossed it, Addam reeled the gangplank back in. Once it was secure, Minoth untied the guide rope. With a final, “Take care, Azurda,” Minoth himself lept to shore.

“I do believe I’ll take in the cliff-side sun for a while,” Azurda happily mused. Without any further by-your-leave, the Titan floated down the moat towards the cliffs in question.

“That Titan,” Addam sighed jovially. “Not even eight hundred and he acts like an old man. Still, he’s the best flying Titan I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

“We could have done without the loops,” the black armored Blade deadpanned.

“Was in a mood, was he?” Minoth got a chuckle at Addam’s exuberant affirmative.

“Now, as I was saying, this is my good friend Minoth. Minoth, meet,” Addam started with the black armored Blade, “Malos, Lora, Jin, Mikhail, and Mythra.”

“Addam gave us the abridged version of how you two met,” Mythra noted.

“Please tell me he skipped the part about the webbing,” Minoth hoped.

“I most certainly did.” Addam rubbed at his arm at the memory. Clapping his hands, Addam tried to derail the topic: “You said you got five guest rooms wheedled out of the staff, Minoth?”

“All I had to do was tell the master of ceremonies you’d gotten your fatty end saved again, and he was willing to air out the lesser used minor guest rooms in the West Wing.”

“...the Forbidden West Wing?” not-a-princess Lora squeaked.

Minoth gave Addam a look that shouted, Really?

“We were on the road for three days! What other stories were I supposed to tell?” Addam defended himself; poorly defended as usual. Minoth punched Addam (lightly) in the arm.

“The West Wing hasn’t been Forbidden in over a decade,” Minoth assured the youngsters.

“If you do spot any sizable spiders though,” Addam began.

“If we spot any spiders of any size, your fancy palace is going to loose a few walls,” warned Malos, one protective hand on Lora’s shoulder.

Minoth eyed Malos from head to foot. In an exaggerated aside to Addam, Minoth pointed at Malos. “Him, I’m gonna like.”

“You mercenary types do tend to stick together,” Addam chuckled.

“Mercenary?” Minoth’s eyebrows jumped, curiosity piqued.

“Malos and Jin moonlighted as mercenaries for a time. Speaking of time, you’ll have have plenty of it to talk shop later. I’ve got travel dust in places a man should not have dust in,” Addam complained.

“You know well enough where the hot springs are,” Minoth noted, shoving Addam ahead.

“What’s a hot springs?” Mythra asked.

“A delectable slice of heaven that puts any bath to shame,” Addam answered shamelessly.

Minoth shoved Addam ahead a second time, this time shoving at his empty head. Addam ducked, cackling like some spiky haired bird. Ignoring Addam’s machinations with a practiced air, Minoth asked, “Newly wakened?”

“Yeah. About a week ago. That obvious?” Mythra asked, blushing faintly.

“I’ve got some books you can borrow. Basic information about Torna that this idiot would have neglected to mention, given he grew up with it. Who’s your Driver?”

Mythra pointed at Addam.

“...damn. You poor lass. I’ll get you those books immediately,” Minoth promised.

“Can you get copies for them?” Mythra pointed to the Blades and children.

“Easy enough. Got some good legends that are age appropriate, too.”

“Jin would enjoy the legends most, I think. Lora prefers historical treaties. Mikhail has a preference for mathematics, engineering, and salvaging. Malos enjoys a good historical fiction, and Mythra a nice drama,” Addam rattled off.

The five newcomers all stared at Addam’s back.

Minoth stage whispered, “Yeah. The airhead thing is an act. Don’t tell anyone.”

Addam requested, “Please, don’t. I prefer to look like an aloof idiot. Keeps me clear of most of the political shenanigans.” Addam poked Minoth. “Speaking of. Do you have those rumors for me?”

Granting the Blades and children a respite, Minoth launched into an accounting of palace gossip.

Lora, Malos, Jin, and Mikhail stared at the room. It flat demanded a good staring at. It was nearly as big as their room at old Lady Melin’s inn, but it had just one bed in it. The double window had ornate curtains; the flooring had plush runners; there was a bookcase and a trunk; a desk with an oil lamp on it and a plush chair; and it had a bed. One. One bed. One big, soft looking, extra plush bed.

“Why’s there only the one bed?” Lora wondered.

“Because you each have your own room,” Minoth answered.

“We… we do…?”

Minoth nodded, sincere and serious. “Addam requested this hall of the West Wing be set aside for all of you. These rooms are yours to do with as you see fit during your stay. Mythra,” Minoth waited for Mythra to hum acknowledgment, “you’ll like as not get moved to the East Wing near Addam’s quarters once the king formally acknowledges you as Addam’s Blade. In Torna, its considered the height of poor decorum to separate a Blade from their Driver without valid reason.”

“Nice to know. So...” Mythra eyed the four remaining closed doors. “Are all the rooms the same?”

“There’s some slight variation in color. These two rooms have windows out into the courtyard. These three,” Minoth pointed behind him, “don’t have windows. They tend to get pretty dark.”

“I’ll take one of them. Dark doesn’t bug me,” Malos decided.

“I’ll take one of them, too, since apparently I won’t be here long,” Mythra likewise decided.

“Mikhail and Lora should have the rooms with windows,” Jin suggested. Mikhail squeezed Jin’s hand in thanks.

“Dinner won’t be for another three hours. I can show you to the hot springs now, if you’d like,” Minoth offered.

“Sure,” Jin tentatively accepted.

Minoth directed that they, “Grab your fresh cloths. Towels and soaps are provided free of charge.”

After a moment to gather Lora’s and Mikhail’s cleaner cloths, the group followed Minoth’s lead. They soon realized without a guide, finding their way around would have been the second closest thing to impossible. It seemed like they were… heading underground?

“The hot springs are heated by geothermal energy; that’s basically heat from the Titan’s ether lines radiating up through the ground,” Minoth explained. “The water’s from a natural mineral spring. Its pretty relaxing. Only down side is if you stay in too long, you start to feel like stew meat. Treat it the same you would for baths at the inns: Clean off first, then climb on in. I’ll drop a map off for you so you can get back to your rooms when you’re done. See you at dinner.”

The group stared at the two identical doors. The one on the left was marked with the icon for boys; the icon for girls marked the right hand door. The group looked at one another. Mythra shrugged and headed in. Lora hesitated a moment, then followed when Malos gave her an encouraging pat.

Mythra looked over her shoulder at Lora as the girly tentatively entered. Folding her arms, Mythra hummed, "This seems pretty fancy."

A shy gulp of a nod.

"So we just shuck everything here?" Mythra poked one of the baskets sitting neat on a bench.

"I dunno..." Lora confessed.

Mythra headed to the far end of the room. Stuffing her head through the ornate curtain, Mythra found, "Hey! They got soap and – ooh! Running water! Piped in so you don't have to dunk a bucket over you head. Come on! I'll scrub your back, you can scrub...?"

Mythra's sentence trailed off upon finding Lora sitting on the floor trying to look like nothing more interesting than a furry rock. With a niggling feeling of something not being right, Mythra came over to where Lora sat. Squatting down so they were roughly the same height Mythra noted, "Today's been kinda a lot, huh."

A shy nod.

"I bet things won't feel so heavy after a bath."

A shrug lost within the folds of furs and cloths.

"Are you worried someone will take your furs?"

A slight hesitation, followed by a too quick nod.

"Nobody touches a Blade's armor – at least that's what Addam told me when we stayed at that fancy inn. I can put my armor over your furs and then nobody will take them. Sound like a plan?"

The hesitation lasted a measure longer. Then, very slowly, Lora began to unwrap herself from her furs. Mythra likewise began to slip out of her armor. The room was a little chill but not uncomfortably so. Mythra waited patiently for Lora to get all her things in a basket, and then put her armor on top of the furs with due caution. Lora gave a little shy shudder.

Without a word, Mythra offered Lora her hand. Hesitant for a moment, Lora took Mythra's hand.

She's a pretty kid, Mythra privately assessed. Not going to get too leggy, not too busty; really right in the middle.

And then her own thoughts impacted what Jin had said Lora's father had done. Sold a woman's body as barter, Jin had said.

Mythra was a bit too vigorous scrubbing soap through her hair. The effort did not scrub the horrible thought from her head.

People wouldn't seriously do that to a kid, right? Right?!

Oh Father. Mythra had enough sense to know not to ask Lora. Malos. Malos would know. She could ask him later. Titan's sore foot – Mythra hoped she was wrong!

"Um...?" Lora's quiet voice intruded on Mythra trying to wash bad thoughts out with the soap. "You said... back scrub...?"

"Yeah, if you're alright with that," Mythra confirmed. Miracle of miracles: Her voice didn't shake.

"S-Sure," Lora stuttered.

There was a sound of wood clicking against the bath's tile floor. Stiff bristles scrubbed against Mythra's back in a gentle circular motion. It was nice. After Lora finished with Mythra's back, Mythra scrubbed Lora's back. Taking care of someone like this was... kinda nice, actually. Good social bonding.

The hot spring was as plain as the room around it was ornate. It was basically a hole in the ground with water warm enough to steam filling it to the brim. Sticking a tentative toe in, Mythra deemed it acceptable temperature-wise. Lora was likewise tentative on entering.

"I kinda get why Minoth said you start to feel like soup if you stay in too long," Mythra mused.

Lora took an extra minute to find a ledge that would let her keep her head above water. "It smells a little like eggs."

"It does," Mythra agreed. Letting the water trickle through her fingers, Mythra figured, "Must be a trace element of sulfur in the water. Not harmful, but we should probably rinse off when we're done."

Lora hummed. The kid began to relax a little at a time.

"...you know Malos and me are pretty much siblings," Mythra ventured.

Lora sputtered, head dunking under the water as she flailed for balance. Her golden eyes were shocked wide as she stared at Mythra.

"Yeah. I mean, we're both – you know," Mythra hedged. "The only two Blades of our kind. Figure that's enough to make us related. Yeah?"

Lora fidgeted. Then she fidgeted some more. At length she whispered, "You're not upset?"

"About how you found our Core Crystals?" At Lora's tentative nod, Mythra scoffed, "Pssh. What would I do with a monk as Driver? I'd be board to death! Besides, Addam doesn't seem like a bad guy. A lot of an airhead, but not bad."

Lora fidgeted. "...having a sister to talk to would be nice."

Mythra beamed (metaphorically).

"Hey back there! Just me!" Malos's voice called out.

"If you come back here, Malos, so help me Father...!" Mythra fumed.

"I'm not stupid," Malos scoffed. "Look – wanted to give you a head's up. Addam had somebody drop off some fancy robes or something for Mik'. Looks like Lora got the same. They left directions, too. We're heading back to the rooms. You noticed the trace elements in the hot springs, right?"

Lora raised her voice loud enough to be heard: "Yes!"

"Right. See you later."

Malos knocked noisily on the wall to signal his departure.

"He's a soft gushy worry wart, isn't he?" Mythra giggled.

Lora hid under the water to disguise her agreeing smile.

Chapter Text

It was weird trying to fall asleep without the sound of his siblings near him. The room felt too big, too open, and too empty. It took too long for Lora to fall asleep as well: Malos could feel through their resonance Lora toss and turn. She was normally down and out within an hour of her head hitting the pillow. Tonight it took hours before there link dimmed under dreams.

Malos heard a door open; felt more than heard was a shift of ice through the hall. Jin must have been restless. Though, when another door opened, Malos thought he caught a faint sound of tears. Mikhail, then, having a controlled meltdown about... everything. Father... Why did palaces have to be so big and fancy?

Need to get some sleep, or I'm the one who's going to have a meltdown tomorrow.

Maybe one of Jin's meditation tricks would help. Close his eyes. Breathe in slowly, and breathe out the clutter in his head. Repeat until all that was, was an empty zen.

...zen sounded an awful lot like someone pounding repeatedly on a door.

Rubbing at his eyes, Malos tried to figure out which end was up. The ether link with Lora jumped in a startled skitter. If she had been near, she would have been hiding behind Malos. That alone was enough to make Malos cranky. Add in the fact he had only just fallen asleep – or the second closest thing to asleep – and Malos was annoyed. Throwing himself out of bed, Malos headed for the too large room’s door with intent to throw it open.

“Jin! Jin! Jin! Wake up, man!”

Malos pinched the bridge of his nose. Instead of throwing open the door, Malos opened it without haste. What was it about Addam that sucked all the energy out of a guy? Maybe it was just a morning person thing.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Malos demanded, eyes narrowing. "And why are you hauling around an encyclopedia?"

Addam gave Malos a chipper, "Good morning!" Without missing a beat, Addam kept pounding on Jin's door. "I get none of you are earlier risers. I truly do. But this is important! Get up, Jin!"

The door behind Addam thumped open. Frosty as a north wind, Jin's voice growled.

"Ah-ha!" Addam whirled on Jin. "Jin! Excellent! That mask you wore as a disguise. Do you still have it?"

"Why," Jin demanded. The three letters were shorthand for, Why did you wake up myself and my siblings at this unholy hour of the day?

Addam pressed, "That mask, Jin! Put it on if you've still got it!"

Jin obliged. Combined with his unamused glare, Jin looked like death set to commit murder.

The expression had zero impact diminishing Addam's crazy. The blond cheered, "Excellent!" Holding the encyclopedia open with both hands, Addam positioned the thick tome so he could glance between it and Jin easily. Addam hummed, "Yes, yes, just as I thought. Just as I thought!" Addam slammed the book shut. "Come along, then. Rise smartly, everyone! The king expects us all in the throne room promptly after breakfast."

"What." Malos managed.

"The king! You know, my old man? He'd like to meet the gaggle of misfits that saved this," Addam jammed a thumb into his chest, "misfit from death by ferris. His Majesty request we all show as soon as we've broken fast."

"Aren't there protocols? Dress codes?" Malos demanded. Lora's door was open a crack so as to peek at the spectacle without getting drawn in.

"Right you are, Malos, right you are! But! I'll handle all that protocol business. Did the robes fit alright?" At Jin's and Malos's blinks, Addam huffed, "The robes I had dropped off for your Drivers! Did they fit alright?"

Jin exchanged a look with Malos. Malos crossed his arms. "Why?" the Master Blade demanded.

"Because they'll need to dress in something a bit higher class than – forgive me – well traveled furs and a shirt that's got stains near as old as its wearer. What I can get hold of swiftly isn't much, but," Addam trailed off.

"How many people will be at this?" Jin asked, taking off his mask again.

"His Majesty, possibly one or two of my siblings, the guards and attendants," Addam ticked off. "Myself and Minoth, of course.... Say a dozen give or take."

Malos did not need to see Lora to know her reaction; her fear spiked their link. A dozen people, and no furs to shield herself? Not happening.

"Screw the dress code. Lora's wearing her furs if she wants to," Malos stated. When Addam began to open his mouth, Malos snarled, "This is not a discussion."

Addam tried to protest.

Mythra's door opened. In the time it took to register Mythra being up, the light element Blade had her hand firmly covering Addam's mouth. "Malos said," Mythra snarled, "not a discussion."

Addam wisely did not attempt to protest aloud. What he did do was wave his hands about in a non-verbal attempt to indicate there wasn't much of a choice. Or to request Mythra remove her hand so he could breathe. Hard to tell which.

Mythra looked to Malos. "Compromise?"

Malos arched an eyebrow, slouching slightly to say, I'm listening.

"One fur wrap. Lora can keep the others in Adam's room where no one will touch them."

Malos considered; looked to Jin, who likewise was looking at Malos. Tipping his head as though asking Jin a silent question, Malos tried to eye his Driver. Their resonance hummed with nervous fear. Malos demanded of Addam, “Exactly how much choice do we have in the matter?”

Mythra allowed Addam to remove her hand so that he could answer: “That rather depends. Being citizens of Torna and not answering to the His Majesty would be grounds for treason. That sort of weight would follow you no matter where you went. I can buy you a few more hours by requesting the audience be postponed; we did just get in yesterday, after all.”

“In regards to the dress code,” you idiot, went unsaid but implied by Malos’s tone.

“Again, that rather depends. Showing up with only the cloths on your backs could be looked upon as an insult. The mockery which would follow you – well,” Addam shrugged in helpless lameness. “Do you really want to be known as that bunch of vagabonds for the rest of your lives?”

Malos rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was too damn early to be dealing with shit. Worse, Addam had a point: They could not not answer a summons from the king. Their time with the odd jobs crew had taught Malos at least that much politics. Out the corner of his eye, Malos saw Lora ease the door open a little wider. Her nod affirmative was stiff from her terror, but her courage held her fast.

“Alright. Fine” Malos tossed his hands up. “Since we don’t have much of a choice… Lora gets her pick of one fur, and the rest go in Addam’s locked room.”

“How about a locked chest rather than locking down the whole room?” Addam offered.

“So long as they get put someplace no one will be messing with them,” Malos insisted. Those furs carried too much emotional and material riches to risk them.

“Done! You lot fetch breakfast, I’ll go and fetch the formal outfits immediately!” Addam clapped his hands jovially, and then turned on Mythra. “Be a sweet Blade, my dear, and give me a hand?”

Mythra rolled her eyes. Malos’s sister Blade looked a, This guy, am I right, to Lora. To Malos’s pleasant surprise, Lora giggled, a little of her tension easing. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the kids something absolutely ridiculous,” Mythra promised both Jin and Malos.

And without a further comment beyond a glare to Addam to get him moving, Mythra sashayed off.

Malos blinked; looked a, huh, to Jin. Jin gave a minimalist, that’s that I suppose, shrug in response.

“...she’s an okay sister,” Lora quietly noted.

“Sister, huh?” Chuckling at nothing in particular, Malos concurred, “Yeah. Guess she is.”

“We should get fortified before they return,” Jin suggested.

Malos snorted agreement. If dealing with a king was anything like dealing with some of the odd job shop’s more rarefied clients, they were going to need as much strength as they could muster. Of course, with the king being Addam’s dad, there was no telling how things would shake down. The guy could be as nuts as Addam himself. ...probably not, given he ran the whole damn country. Still. Best if they were all prepared for the worst.

The palace was unlike any structure Jin or his siblings had been in before. The rooms were too large; the furniture too ornate; the decorations too expensive. It was as if every inch of the palace were trying to impress upon visitors that this was an important place. The closer they got to the throne room, the more the walls seemed to shout. It was tastefully done, perhaps. It was overdone in Jin’s estimations.

Mikhail kept close to Jin’s shins as they walked. The outfit Addam had foisted on them was not too outlandish, thankfully. A simple silvery white long sleeved blouse that reached to mid Mikhail’s thighs and equally simple pants, with gray and silver slippers a size too big for Mikhail’s feet. A diamond-shaped gold broach patterned with a four pointed infinity knot acted as an oversized clasp at the blouse’s collar. The hand Mikhail was not using to hold onto Jin’s coattails was tugging intermittently at the broach and collar. The outfit as a whole was… very odd.

Jin eyed Lora as she tried to stay in Malos’s shadow. The outfit was as different from her usual furs and cloths as Mikhail’s outfit was from his plain short sleeved shirt and simple pants. Jin had seen similar dresses in kabuki plays; kimonos, they were called. This one was thankfully plain: Black fabric lacking any kind of stenciling or design; a white sash around her waist, with white socks and simple sandals. Unlike the kabuki play outfits, this kimono did not have lengthy sleeves trailing from Lora’s wrists. Lora had the silver ferris fur wrapped around her shoulders and trailing down her arms, and looked like she desperately wished she had all her other furs so as to hide.

Wearing those outfits must feel to them like disguising our Core Crystals feels to Malos and I, Jin reasoned. Eyeing the guards lining their path, Jin tacked on: Our being watched isn’t helping anyone, either.

Addam stopped them just ahead of a set of black metal doors ornately highlighted with gold. “This is where protocol starts coming into play. Just remember, you don’t need to bow your heads or anything. All he wants to do is meet you.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Malos grumped. The one thing keeping Malos from crossing his arms in annoyance was Lora holding onto his hand.

“What he said,” Mythra concurred. She did cross her arms to accentuate her grumpy frown.

Addam nodded, “Right,” giving the nervous children an understanding look. Addam gestured to the guard – attendant? – nearest the door. The guard bowed. Turning with rigid precision, the two guards on either side marched to the center of the doors, and each grabbed an ornate golden ring. The guards stepped back to their posts with ring in hand so that the doors swung open.

Addam nodded that they were to follow. And then, he led them into the dragon’s den.

The throne room was sizable, but bearable. More black metal decorated with gold trim, fridge, and patterns. A couple of rampant dragon designs based off the Tornan Titan’s features were inlaid with precious or semiprecious stones to give them extra sparkle. Banners bearing the seal of the Royal House of Torna fluttered from the ceilings on either side of a golden throne. In that throne was a man with jet black hair, with a gold crown upon his head, and dressed in gold and saffron robes. The robes were… ornate. The fabric alone could probably fetch enough coin to feed a family of ten for a year.

There was a faint ripple of ether in the darkest parts of the room. Malos caught Jin’s look and mouthed, Minoth.

So. They had an ally in the dark, just in case. That was… actually quite kind of Addam.

Addam stopped some twenty paces from the throne. He gave an exaggerated bow that included all of them in a formal acknowledgment. “Your Majesty. Your loyal subjects have assembled, as you requested.”

“Hum,” went the old man. He made a gesture with his right hand that didn’t seem to mean much.

“As I informed you yesterday, fate granted I meet a most extraordinary lady in a monster’s lair. Might I formally introduce Mythra to you, sire.” Addam waited for Mytrha to give a little bow. “It is my great honor to report Mythra is my Blade. Without her aid, I would have been lost in the dark.”

“Dagan,” rumbled the old man. An underling rushed forward. Stopping at ten paces, the underling put his hands in front of him and lowered himself to one knee. The old man continued, “Draft a proclamation announcing my formal acknowledgment of Prince Addam being found worthy by the Architect to resonate with a Blade.” The old man waited for the underling to skitter away before turning his attention back to Addam. “I see you have found unusual traveling companions again. Bring them forward so that I might –!”

“Ah!” Addam spoke up when the old man went silent. “So you do recognize him, Your Majesty! Wonderful! I was hoping you might.”

The old man stood. “This is a cruel trick, Addam.”

“No trick, I assure you, sire. I honestly had no idea myself. If Minoth hadn’t reminded me of that old book, I’d have been caught just as unawares.”

The old man lifted a hand to point. “You! Blade adorned in white!”

Mikhail twitched in fear and hid as best he could behind Jin’s coattails. Jin took a deliberate moment to assure Mikhail was alright. Malos and Lora both moved closer to Jin, closing ranks. Out the corner of his eye Jin saw the old man walk towards them four paces before stopping.

“What is your name, Blade?” demanded the old man.

With deliberate slowness, he turned to face the old man. “My name is Jin.”

Whispers rushed through the room like a racing spring wind.

“The Stolen Paragon of Torna,” hissed the stunned old man. “The Stolen Paragon. Returned.”

“Yes, indeed, sire. The greatest Blade in Torna’s history! The Blade who raised your Dragoons to their lofty heights. The Blade of the Grand Marshal of the Dragoons herself. The Blade who was stolen during the Grand Marshal’s funeral sixty years ago! The legendary Stolen Paragon of Torna – is found.”

Addam had not just been talking; he had been moving to circle around their group. On his last word, Addam put his right hand on Jin’s shoulder and gave Jin a jovial shake. Jin eyed the blond like he’d gone mad. Taking the hint, Addam removed his hand.

The old man’s shock gave way. “Addam,” the man commanded.

“The sands of history have washed away the hows, I fear,” Addam genuflected.

The old man nodded as though this news were not unexpected. Either that, or he was hiding his shock well. “I expect to hear in private the whole tale of how you crossed paths with our lost Paragon, Addam. After the noonday meal.”

“As you will,” Addam bowed.

“As for you, Lord Jin. I know it is the fate of Blades to loose their memories upon the deaths of their Driver. Given that, I fear you will have forgotten your time of service as the Grand Marshal’s Blade under the rule of my father. Likewise you will have forgotten the innumerable reasons why you are known as the Paragon of Torna.” The old man folded his hands behind his back. “Pray, tell me. Who is your Driver?”

“Ah. Forgive me for stepping in, Your Majesty.” Addam gave his back to the old man long enough to wink at Jin, Mikhail, Malos, and Lora. “You see, Jin’s Driver is shy around strangers. Why, any lad would be! Especially a boy who barely escaped with his life from the thief who meant to steal the Paragon Core Crystal from those who had stolen it before. Indeed!” Addam rolled over the stunned gasps. “Indeed! Had it not been for the bravery of his sister, why, Jin would not be standing with us now! Instead he would have been sold – sold! Like a common armu! It boggles the mind to picture what cruel fate could have awaited him.”

“Oh Father,” Malos hissed, the words barely audible. Mythra had slapped a hand to her face.

“It seems we have much to discuss,” the old man hummed. The old man’s blue eyes measured their group. “We shall adjourn to my study.” Without another word, the man walked to their left.

“Well! That went better than anticipated. Good thing Minoth found that old photo,” Addam quietly chuckled, even as he made a show of directing them towards where the old man was heading.

“What were you anticipating?” Mythra hissed.

“A long and dull speech about responsibility, the need to secure the dynasty, and how I’m too old to go spelunking in caves. Believe you me, such a lecture would have been ghastly,” Addam swore, shivering a bit. The blond dropped them another wink. “And now we’re down to a party of just us plus one.”

Which would take an enormous amount of pressure off their Drivers. Shaking his head, Jin realized, “You couldn’t have warned us beforehand. Our reactions had to be genuine.”

“Still calling you a jerk for that stunt,” Mythra humphed.

Addam would have launched a counter-quip save for the fact they had exited the throne chamber. His expression did a bit of a flip-flop. “I’m going to have to tell the old man your full backstory within reasonable limits. Otherwise, he’ll pry until he gets his facts however he can, from whomever he can. Father practically worshiped the ground the Grand Marshal walked on; he’s got a vested personal interest in what happened to her Blade’s Core Crystal after it was stolen. I realize its a bit of a trial, but I beg you, endure as best you can.”

“If he orders us or our Drivers thrown in the dungeon or something equally stupid, there’s going to be problems,” Malos warned.

“Duly noted.” Addam hesitated before an average size door. “Right then. Here we go!”

Malos ran his hand through Lora’s hair. His Driver sighed, nestling into her furs, drifting further into dreams. The day’s tensions which had pulled their link taunt slowly began to unwind. Absently, Malos realized Lora was about due for a haircut. Unless she wanted to try keeping it longer for a while; they had enough gold to afford hair soaps and cosmetics and stuff.

Maybe we should get them some fresh outfits, Malos hummed. Hadn’t noticed it before, but… Lora’s starting to wear some of her things to strings. Mik’s starting to outgrow his stuff, too.

“Mikhail does need new cloths.”

Looking up from his watch over Lora’s dreams, Malos found Jin still had that damn encyclopedia in one hand. The other hand was brushing through Mikhail’s hair similar to how Malos was keeping close to Lora. Having been moved over to the East Wing of the castle hadn’t done much besides get them a more comfortable set of rooms equipped with double beds.

“His things are getting a bit small,” Malos concurred, keeping his voice as soft as Jin’s. Malos eyed the damn encyclopedia. They had gone all day since the disaster called meeting the king without stabbing the ardun in the room. That much tension coming from Jin… Malos really could not stand it any further. “Guess we know who taught your past self those scavenging skills.”

Jin hefted the encyclopedia as though he were tempted to throw it through the window. The closed window.

“Jin.” Malos waited for Jin to look at him. “I do not give a damn that you’re a legend. You’re my big brother. That is the only thing that matters.”

“I have a house, Malos. That is kind of a big deal.” Jin countered. Anger or sadness etched Jin’s voice; it bothered Malos he could not tell which.

“Your past life left you a house. Very thoughtful of him,” Malos quipped. Malos considered it a win when Jin cracked a smile. “Do you want to go check it out?”

Jin hefted the encyclopedia again. Hesitated. Looking down at Mikhail frowning in his sleep, Jin admitted, “I don’t know. I should let the past be, but...”

“But its a house. And you’re curious,” Malos filled in the blanks. “Its in Aletta, right? Getting there would be a good chance to get some actual no frills adventuring in. It’ll be a nice trip. What?” Malos scoffed at Jin’s stunned look, “If you think you were going alone, think again.”

“It wouldn’t be right to drag you, Lora, and Mik’,” Jin started to say.

“What wouldn’t be right is you shoving us out of your life,” Malos countered. “I get you’re scared of what you’ll find. But I will haul myself over to Indol in Siren before I voluntarily let you loose us.”

Jin ran his fingers through Mikhail’s hair again. The silence between them was underscored by exhausted snores.

“I guess...”

“Hum?”

Jin looked Malos in the eye. “I guess you really are wise. Sometimes.”

Malos snarked, “You’re a real paragon, Jin.”

Chuckling, Jin set the encyclopedia down on the nightstand – then bedded himself down for the night. Malos left Lora’s side only long enough to extinguish the oil lamps before likewise bedding down for the night.

The next morning started much the same as the day before: A firm knocking on their door roused them from sleep. Unlike yesterday, it wasn’t Addam knocking. Whoever they were, there were incessant. The knock had no rhythm or pattern. It was just knock knock knock knock repeated without end.

Blearily, Malos cracked an eye open. There was a sliver of light sneaking its way through the window’s curtain. So, not the crack of dawn. Lora mumbled something and pulled the he head under the pillow. Across from them, Mikhail tried to hide his head under Jin’s arm. Jin pulled the sheet over both his and Mikhail’s heads.

The things Malos endured for his family sometimes…

Getting out of bed, Malos headed for the door.

“Good morning,” Minoth said, lowering his hand.

Malos expressed his opinion regarding the words good and morning sharing the same breath.

“Addam’s in the middle of getting that lecture he tried to dodge yesterday. Mythra is stuck with him for now. Which means,” Minoth crossed his arms like an amused buloofo, “you’re stuck with me for the time being.”

Malos glared. Minoth looked like he could take a hit. One punch, and Minoth would be down, and Malos could crawl back in bed.

“You have a few options. You can go back to bed,” Minoth ticked up one finger, “you can get breakfast here in the palace whereupon you’ll be beset by gossip hungry fools,” a second finger, “or you can rise smartly and come with me into the palace town,” a third finger. “The king made a mention of how Addam had to borrow proper formal outfits for your Drivers. If you go for option two, your Drivers are going to get accosted by the royal tailor. Yes, there is such a position. They carry around loaded pincushions, and aren’t afraid to use them.”

Malos glared at Minoth a minute longer. Without a word, Malos closed the door in Minoth’s face.

“I’ve got coffee.”

Malos reopened the door. Minoth was holding a pair of thermoses; each thermos was as big as a grown man’s forearm. Malos reached out to grab them. Minoth handed them over with a smug grin. Defense against morning people acquired, Malos closed the door. Looking ahead, Malos found that Jin had pulled the covers off his head. An eyebrow arched up above a bleary eye.

“Minoth uses bribes effectively,” Malos noted.

Snorting with amusement, Jin sat up and held out a commanding hand. Malos, knowing better than to get between Jin and coffee, immediately handed over a thermos. Both Blades enjoyed the warm beverage in appreciative silence.

“Town?” Jin suggested.

“Town,” Malos concurred.

The two set to work rousing their Drivers.

It took a bit of cajoling to get the younger siblings out of bed. They had learned the hard way to never use coffee in an effort to get them up. The nice caffeine buzz that got mercenaries (and mercenary Blades) on their feet had unfortunate side-effects on young Drivers. They didn't have the luxury of familiarity to deal with Mikhail and Lora literally bouncing off the walls.

Once their Drivers' ablutions were done and they were up – physically, anyway; neither Mikhail or Lora were awake – Jin and Malos herded them out of the room. Minoth was waiting patiently, leaning up against a wall and making scribbles in a pocket notebook. Addam's friend put away his notebook upon their exit. "So. Breakfast in the palace or in town?"

"Town," Jin and Malos concurred.

Minoth nodded. "I know a good merc haunt. Anybody with noble blood and a lick of sense won't be caught dead near it."

Given they hadn't taken ten steps down the hall and already had people stopping and staring at them... The palace was covertly ornate all over the damn place, yeah, but it did not take six people to dust one hallway. And all six of them pretended to be absolutely absorbed in their work when Minoth eyed them. Minoth made a deliberate point of saying, "Afterwards, we can hit up a tailor I know. Probably going to take all day."

The people dusting kept right on going at it.

Malos could feel eyes on his back the whole way out of the palace. No – eyes on Jin's back. It made the spot between his shoulder blades itch. Just as bad, it made Mikhail clingy. Fair enough: It also made Jin clingy.

"You ever consider getting a third?" Minoth asked. The words weren't loud enough to be overheard, but his body language made it seem at a distance like he was talking about the weather.

"A third?" Malos echoed.

"A third Blade. Somebody dedicated to support." So the two of you are freed up to kick ass, Minoth's look at their Drivers spelled out.

"And where are a bunch of broke mercs going to find a spare Core Crystal at?" Malos demanded.

"The palace's Blade armory, under the label 'reserved for Prince Addam'." Minoth's grin did not reach his eyes. "The king was going to get Addam a Blade whether he wanted one or not, if only to play bodyguard. With Mythra, Addam doesn't need to – how'd he put it? Force some poor soul to deal with his madness. Architect knows he can drive sane men right round the twist."

Malos and Jin exchanged looks.

"Records say the Blade's a lady," Minoth tacked on.

"...somebody said something about Lora," Jin guessed, voice frosty.

"There may have been mention made among the upper echelon regarding sleeping arrangements," Minoth hedged.

Father damn politics.

"Did I do something wrong?" Lora asked, sleep making her a little less nervous around Minoth.

"No, little not a princess. You've done nothing wrong," Minoth assured – not inconsequentially earning himself some brownie points. "But there's some stuck up old men who think the world should be just so. And proper ladies spending a night in a room with their male siblings is," Minoth exaggerated his disdained expression, "not done!"

"...more idiots," Lora realized.

"More idiots," Minoth confirmed.

Jin, Mikhail, Malos, and Lora all sighed. But it was Jin who voiced their shared opinion: “We’ll consider Addam’s offer.”

“It does have its pros and cons,” Minoth hummed.

And with that topic set aside for now, they got started on another (very) long day.

Mikhail kicked his feet back and forth as he sat on the edge of a chair too tall for him. Living in the palace was turning out to be weird.

At least, that was Mikhail’s assessment. They hadn’t lived here for very long: Today was their fourth day. That was part of what made living here weird; Mikhail could count the days. Living at old Lady Melin’s place, Mikhail hadn’t been able to count the days because it had seemed like forever right from day one. But in the palace, Mikhail could count the days. He could also count off how many strange things people had said or done.

The teacher, for example. The teacher was supposed to teach Mythra all about Torna and Alrest and stuff so Mythra could better help Addam with his job as a prince. Addam had talked the teacher into giving Lora and Mikhail lessons, too, since they both kind of missed the professor. (They also needed to do something while Jin and Malos went to fill out a few mercenary writs. Going to the tailor’s had been… interesting. It had also left them two hundred gold coins shy of being broke.) The teacher hadn’t paid any attention to Lora or Mikhail until Mikhail had answered his stupid easy math question – well. Stupid easy for Mikhail. Lora didn’t like numbers, so she wasn’t as good at figuring out the square roots of stuff as Mikhail.

But then the teacher had ignored Lora and Mythra entirely and focused just on giving Mikhail lots of number problems. At first Mikhail hadn’t noticed what the teacher was doing; the numbers had been a fun challenge. He’d only realized it when he saw Lora hiding in her furs with a familiar vacant look. The look that meant Lora wasn’t where her body was at. Mikhail didn’t like that look. When Mikhail pointed out the teacher was ignoring Mythra and Lora, the teacher had said – said –

The teacher had said something bad. Bad enough Mikhail wanted to cry.

Mythra was a lot like Malos, though. She had made enough of a fuss to get all of them out of there. They spent the rest of the day in Addam’s room, reading through Addam’s books about Tornan flora and fauna.

So here they were, with Mikhail contemplating how weird the palace was.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. Addam stuck his head in first, as if wanting to make sure there wasn’t going to be an explosion or something, and then slipped inside. “I am given to understand there was a,” Addam hesitated a second, “disagreement?”

“That – that idiot called women useless trash!” Mythra fumed.

Mikhail sunk a little into the too tall chair. It was a different person saying it, but the words the teacher had used had sounded so much like what that man had called Lora all the time.

Addam winced. "I am sorry about that. Sagan is something of an old guard elitist. I'll see what I can do to get you all out from under his thumb. But," Addam held out a plain tan pouch big enough to carry a bread loaf, "I come bearing good news. Firstly, His Majesty has condoned my handing out a Core Crystal to one I see fit. Honestly, if he's going to give me a Core Crystal, he shouldn't be so shocked when I want to use it." Addam gave his head a little shake. "To the important news! Jin and Malos got spotted by the palace guard not ten minutes ago. They should be to the main gates any second now!"

Lora shut the book she'd been sort of reading and Mikhail hopped down from the too tall chair. Mythra stood and put her hands on her hips. "You should have lead with that!"

Addam chuckled, "It seems I should have, yes. Here, one of you, hold on to this for now." When the children hesitated, Addam smiled. "I know it's still an open debate on whether or not to have a third Blade. But, it's best you have the Core Crystal to hand now; especially since if I keep hold of it too long, the king might make me keep it after all."

Lora and Mikhail had a swift conversation comprised of raised eyebrows and nods. It was Mikhail who took the Core Crystal containing pouch from Addam.

"Now that that's settled, let's go hear what kind of adventure Jin and Malos got wrapped up in," Addam enthused.

The children giggled with their anticipation. Mikhail couldn't speak for Lora, but he, for one, wanted a hug. His biggest brother had a way of making the world seem not so big, and in this weird big palace, a smaller world was something Mikhail sorely wanted.

With her longer legs, Lora got ahead of Mikhail in a few seconds flat. Mythra kept up easily, and also made sure Lora didn't get lost. Mythra learning the palace layout so fast was proof beyond doubt she was smart and that teacher was dumb. Maybe Jin would know how to handle the teacher.

"Malos!" Lora squeaked with glee. Without even a thought, Lora ran ahead to give Malos a hug.

"Hey," Malos chuckled. One arm wrapped around behind Lora's back and his free hand ruffled Lora's hair.

"You smell like brog," Mythra complained with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when the writ calls for ten dead brogs," Malos quipped.

Mikhail was about to run over to Jin –

When a woman shrieked, "Unhand that girl you sow!"

Startled into freezing, Mikhail hid behind what cover was available. Addam looked torn between amusement at being cover, and concern at the woman marching towards Malos, Lora, Mythra, and Jin. Giving Mikhail a poke, Addam pointed towards a stand as tall as Mikhail with a decorative vase on it. Mikhail hid behind it immediately.

"Lady Consort Olivia. Why, what a pleasant surprise!" Addam boisterously stepped into the fray.

"Keep your nose out of this, Prince Addam," the woman sneared. She tossed her arms about with such exaggerated force her fancy outfit bounced around her boobies. "I have had quite enough of the utter trash you drag through these hollowed halls! To allow this... this pig to dress and handle a lady as though she were some barbarian bride is beyond the pale!"

"Now, Lady Consort," Addam tried to intervene.

This looked bad. Really bad. The guards were looking interested in all sorts of bad ways. There were more people coming into the main hall and stopping to stare. Malos had moved to put himself between Lora and the yelling lady. Jin looked like he was ready to start slicing at the first blink of a weapon being drawn. Every time Addam opened his mouth, the woman shrieked a bit louder. That got more people involved and... and...

We need help, Mikhail knew. Strong help. Help as strong as Lora, but an adult.

There was a faint blue glitter from around Mikhail's waistband. It took a second for Mikhail to remember, The Core Crystal!

It was glowing pretty bright. Was the Core Crystal trying to say something? Maybe... Maybe it was trying to say, I can help.

Taking the risk, Mikhail pulled the Core Crystal out of the pouch. It was warm in his bare hands. It glittered and glowed brighter and before Mikhail could do more than gasp, the Core Crystal had become a Blade.

The first thing Mikhail noticed about the Blade was how pretty she looked. She was wearing robes like she had just stepped out of Mikhail's favorite kabuki play; the one about the priestess and her Blade who had vanquished a nine headed dragon monster. A golden shimmery ribbon wrapped around her shoulders and arms, and called attention to her reddish gold hair. She had very long and pretty hair. Really, she looked more like a princess than a Blade.

Her eyes were a mix between gold and silver in color. They were gentle and kind, just like Jin's, as she turned them on Mikhail.

The woman's shriek reminded Mikhail why he'd woke this Blade. Quickly grabbing her hand, Mikhail tugged her behind cover.

The Blade said softly, "Trouble, my lord?"

Mikhail was too distracted to catch the my lord bit. He pointed and explained, "That's my biggest brother Jin. He's my Blade. That's my big brother Malos. He's Lora's Blade. Lora's my sister. She's the bestest sister ever. That's Addam and Mythra. Addam's weird but Mythra's okay."

"It looks like they're being accosted by that noblewoman," hummed the Blade.

"Uh-huh. Can you help?"

The Blade ran soothing fingers across the top of Mikhail's head. "Leave it to me, my lord."

Rising to her feet, the Blade headed towards the maelstrom. There was an air of calm around her, too. Like everything going on couldn't touch her.

"And even worse--!" shrieked the woman.

"There you three are!" The Blade walked right into the middle of everything. Without missing a beat, she snatched her right arm around the arm Malos did not have holding Lora. "You would think after all this time, you two would have learned some sense of propriety from Lady Lora."

Malos opened his mouth.

"Not one word, Malos," ordered the Blade. While Malos was still flummoxed, the Blade turned to the lady. "I must apologize for their taking so much of your time, madam. Please rest assured your kind words have been taken to heart."

"Well I hope so," humphed the woman.

Malos started to say something again. The Blade gave his arm a yank. "We're late enough for the meeting with my lord, thank you very much." She turned to the woman and said, "Please excuse us, your grace."

"Indeed! I'd darn near forgotten about that meeting myself!" Addam sketched a bow. "By your leave, my lady?"

The woman gave them the back of her hand in a clear shoo.

The Blade curtsied. And then snatched Jin's arm with her left, and marched the lot of them towards where Mikhail was hiding. Addam followed from the rear, a bemused Mythra keeping a partial guard right behind Lora. When they past him, Mikhail slipped from cover to walk next to Jin and took his hand. Jin squeezed Mikhail's hand in gentle assurance.

Once they were clear, Addam raced ahead. He opened a door, poked his head inside to make sure it was clear, then rushed them all into the empty room. The second the door was closed, Addam burst into a deep belly laugh.

"Oh – Oh, Architect...!" Addam wheezed for breath, bent nearly double with laughter. Shaking his finger at the Blade, it took him three tries to say, "I have never seen anyone shut Olivia down so – so completely in less than five sentences! Well done!"

"Just doing my duty," daintily giggled the Blade. Her smile had an extra sparkle of warmth as she looked at Mikhail.

Mikhail grinned, happily holding tight to Jin's hand. Jin looked at Mikhail, then looked at the Blade. Interested suspicion narrowed his look.

"Who the heck are you?" Mythra demanded.

The Blade bowed, "My name is Haze."

"Mikhail?" Jin asked.

Mikhail's grin turned shy.

Malos looked from Mikhail, to Haze, to Jin. Jin nodded. Sighing, Malos shook his head, amused. "Not even five minutes awake and pulling stunts like that. Yeah. You're going to fit in just fine, Haze."

"I'll certainly do my best to meet your expectations!"

Malos asked in an aside to Jin, "We have expectations?"

Jin smiled. To Haze, Jin asked, "I take it Mikhail gave you a rough introduction."

Haze nodded affirmative. "Addam and Mythra are friends," Haze gestured to the duo. "Lady Lora is Lord Mikhail's sister. Malos is her Blade, and Lord Mikhail's older brother. And you yourself are Jin, Lord Mikhail's oldest brother and first Blade."

"You may also run into Minoth. He's one of my dearest friends, and has been helping me try to keep the palace out of their business," Addam tagged on.

Malos snorted, "Yeah... More of that Stolen Paragon crap came up during our mercenary job."

Addam winced. "I'm afraid that was just a matter of time. You'd mentioned plans to head for Aletta."

"We'll be expediting those plans," Jin confirmed.

"Tomorrow?" Lora hoped.

"What happened?" Malos demanded, putting a bracing hand on Lora's shoulder.

"Dealing with brogs would have been preferred," Mythra humphed.

"The teacher was mean to Lora 'nd Mythra," Mikhail reported. Just thinking about their cruel words threatened sniffles. Jin scooped Mikhail into his arms for a hug. Mikhail held tight, not carrying about the sour smell from Jin's armor. "He called Lora a..." Mikhail hiccuped. He whispered the hated word quietly.

Jin stiffened. "We are leaving. Tomorrow. First light."

"I don't suppose I could join you?" Addam asked. When they eyed him, Addam scratched the back of his head. "Thing is, His Majesty wants me to do a stint with the ruling Lord of Aletta. Teach me the proper ways of the world; allegedly, anyway. I'll split the boat fare with you."

"Say yes!" Mythra demanded. "No. Seriously. Say yes. I will do something someone else will regret if I have to go through that... that...!" Mythra let out a frustrated growl. "That again!"

"How serious a –?" Malos began.

"I will call down Siren so help me Father," Mythra swore.

"...you accept credit, Addam?" Malos inquired, looking pale.

"Yes. Consider your tab paid through the next seven years. And not a word of argument," Addam insisted. "Meeting you lot has been worth more than all the gold in the family vaults."

Haze bounced on the balls of her feet. "If we're to leave at first light, there's bound to be much to do!"

"We don't have much," Jin half warned, half explained.

Malos snorted, "We're a bunch of broke mercs. What you see is near all we've got."

Haze hummed, folding her hands in front of her as she thought. "You must be someone of significant rank, Addam."

"And what brings you to that conclusion, Haze? Not that you're wrong," Addam confirmed.

"For people such as the lady who accosted Jin, Malos, and Lady Lora, appearance means more than reality. Therefore, if mercenaries smelling like brogs," Haze bowed apologetically for her bluntness; Jin waved it off, "can simply walk into the palace unchallenged, someone with significant clout had to have ordered it be so. Are you perhaps crown prince?"

"Ha! Don't even joke about it! Fourth in line is close enough to the throne for me, thank you very much!" Addam shivered as if there's been a draft. "Despite rumors to the contrary, I'm not that mad."

"Well!" Haze giggled brightly. "I've got a lot of things to learn, I see. Shall we get started?"

Being stuck on a boat for three days left them all pretty much begging for solid land. Within two hours of hitting port, Jin, Mikhail, Malos, and Lora were hitting the markets for supplies. Addam had grabbed Haze to hand over all the maps of the Aletta region in general and the route to Jin's house (which was still weird to think) in specific that could be found on short notice. Getting those maps was all the free time Addam had upon landing; he was sucked immediately into assisting the aging regional lord settle a dispute between two of Aletta's oldest families. Because of that, it was Minoth and Mythra who saw them off.

"Don't get eaten. And you better call down Siren for extra firepower if you need to!" Mythra ordered. She held a bit too long to Malos, and gave Lora an extra hug.

"Don't blow up your new place," Malos quipped in kind.

"Thank you for the maps and the provisions," Haze curtsied.

"Thank us by coming back to visit, alright?" Minoth requested.

Jin offered his hand. Minoth grabbed Jin's forearm it in a warrior's handshake. The Flesh Eater gave Mikhail a rub to head and an a final call to, "Stay safe!"

They picked a camping spot roughly six hours' walk from Aletta's capital and let Mikhail set the pace. At least until he got tired; then Lora set the pace until she too got too tired. At that point they were four hours from Aletta's capital, but were less than a quarter way to their chosen campsite. Jin and Malos carried their respective Drivers the remaining distance. The difference between Blades used to walking everywhere and young children still training to be better Drivers was immediately apparent. Haze kept up with spirited ease, stopping for a spell or two to pick up knickknacks which caught her eye.

There were still two hours of good daylight left by time they arrived.

"Oh! I nearly forgot!" From the sack of provisions Haze was carrying, the Blade withdrew two wooden swords.

"Training blades?" Jin blinked.

"Minoth pulled them from the capital's armory. Something about using time wisely?" Haze blinked innocently, as though she hadn't a clue what Minoth could mean. The slight smile pulling at her lips belayed her wit.

Both children turned towards Jin.

Jin allowed a subtle smile to show. "Practice would be a good use of time."

Mikhail cheered; Lora's smile went from shy to a warm beam when Malos ruffled her hair.

"Shall I set up camp?" Haze asked.

"Sure. I'll go forage dinner," Malos offered. "Anybody want anything specific?"

"Whatever is available will be fine. I’ll be cooking," Jin assured.

“No wonder your past lives picked up the name Paragon of Torna. You cook, you teach, you even sew.” Malos chuckled, “There isn’t a damn thing you can’t do, is there, big brother?”

“Very funny.” Jin rolled his eyes, but he was also chuckling. “Why don’t you go be a Wise One and get us some fresh game?”

Malos laughed, “Be back before you know it.”

One blink, Malos had been standing with an amused smile on his lips. The next blink, and there were faint black pyre sparks drifting in the wind. The abrupt absence caused Lora to squeak, Mikhail to startle, and Jin to blink.

“...um?” Haze tentatively raised her hand.

“That’s new,” Jin confirmed.

“Where’d he go?” Mikhail wondered, looking around as though Malos were about to materialize out of thin air. All things considered, that was a distinct possibility.

Lora closed her eyes. One hand hovering over her heart, she breathed in and out to a slow count of ten. “He didn’t go very far, I think… He’s coming back.”

There was another puff of black pyre sparks and then Malos was suddenly there, a bare few steps off from where he had been. He looked as startled as everyone else. “...apparently I can teleport,” Malos said into the stunned silence.

“Teleport?” Haze echoed the unfamiliar word.

“You were all poof!” Mikhail threw his hands up and out in an approximation of Malos vanishing.

“Blades gaining new skills as their bonds deepen with their Drivers is not unheard of,” Jin noted, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

Malos nodded in agreement; though, he did hesitate. “This feels older than my resonance with Lora.” Malos turned towards where the World Tree dominated the horizon. “It feels innate. Like a skill I’ve always had, just… never felt bothered to use.”

Lora pressed her hand to her mouth to smother a giggle. “You jealous silly. You wanted to show off,” Lora guessed.

Malos’s stunned blink turned into an amused snort. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

“Why don’t you show off by catching dinner? By time you’re back, I can show off what I’ve learned about swords!” Lora suggested.

Malos blinked into pyre sparks then blinked back so that he was standing next to Lora. Ruffling her hair, Malos chuckled, “Its a deal.” Once his hand was clear of Lora’s head, Malos blinked away again.

Mikhail eyed Jin’s expression with a wary eye. “Jin’s plotting,” Mikhail warned Lora.

“Merely considering the tactical advantages of having a teleporting baby brother,” Jin countered.

“Could you plot after sword lessons?” Lora requested.

Snagging a training sword, Jin tossed it to Lora. The teen fumbled it at first but caught it before the wood blade could touch the grassy dirt. “As you wish. Tomorrow, you’re carrying the provisions Haze was carrying today. You’ll need significant upper body strength to keep Malos’s weapon in your hands.”

Lora sighed; she had asked for it, after all. Mikhail smothered his giggles when Jin handed him the second training blade.

“First stance,” Jin ordered. Both children obeyed. Jin took his time adjusting their positioning. “Begin.”

Haze stood watching for a time. It seemed as though neither child were unfamiliar with sword lessons. Turning to resume setting up camp, Haze admitted she was torn between melancholy at children so young learning the ways of war – and at her stunned reaction at their absence of a stunned reaction. There had been momentary shock, but only momentary.

Its as if they expect the extraordinary to be ordinary, Haze hummed. Setting tents into place, Haze amended her thought: It feels more as though they have no bearing on what others would consider ordinary. And no wonder they don’t! They’ve not spent longer than ten months in any one place. And even then, as Lord Mikhail tells it, they spent those ten months contained to themselves, more or less. Mercenaries, a retired teacher, and a landlady don’t count as peers.

Perhaps their destination would turn out to have a village or town nearby. If the house were in good enough condition to make it a permanent residence, Haze could convince them to settle down a bit. Lord Mikhail and his sister were wonderful children; they deserved to have playmates their own age. Plus, there was more to learn of the world than could be found in sword skills and book work.

Haze had just completed clearing out a fire pit to set the campfire in when a meaty thud captured her attention. Turning towards the sound, Haze discovered a medium sized eks carcass had been put down next to a bundle of firewood. The carcass was missing its head, and had already been gutted. Swift, clean sword-strokes, from the look of it. The beast wouldn’t have felt anything more than a momentary pain as it departed the world.

A merciful kill and a thoughtfulness towards others. Malos is as strange as he is kind, Haze mused.

"What?" Malos blinked.

Chuckling to herself, Haze assured, "It's nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how lucky Lord Mikhail is to have such a kind older brother."

Which was true: Haze had been recently thinking about how adorable Mikhail and Malos were together. It was clear with every action Malos cared deeply for Mikhail; though, understandably, not as deeply as Jin cared for him. There was a depth to the link between Driver and Blade no other relation, blood or nearly so, could ever compare to.

Malos nodded a slow, "uh-huh."

Haze blushed a little. "I was also thinking about... Well. How it's not my place to ask certain questions, no matter how curious I am."

"You're Mik's Blade. Maybe you're not family yet," Malos hesitated, "but it's enough to know you won't betray us."

"You're at greater risk than being allies with the fourth in line for the throne?" Haze inquired. Perhaps her words were a little too sharp: Malos held his hands up as though to shield against an attack.

"Jin's got a legend in Torna. The Paragon of Torna. Stolen Paragon of Torna. His past lives were pretty big players, up until fifty, sixty some odd years ago when his Core Crystal got stolen right out from underneath the Royal Family's noses."

"And from there to a royal family in Gormott, to a thief morally bankrupt in more ways than one, to Lord Mikhail's hands." When Malos affirmed she had recalled the tale correctly, Haze sighed. "There was a sizable scandal, I take it."

"Bigwigs were not amused," Malos confirmed. The larger Blade took a deep breath. "And that scandal is going to look like a toddler's temper tantrum if anyone finds out who my first Driver was."

"You remember your past Driver?" Haze blinked. That was highly unusual –

Malos was pointing at the World Tree.

"Your first Driver was the Architect?" When Malos nodded affirmative, Haze blinked. "But... But all Blades are born of the Architect's design. Technically, we all share him as a Driver."

Malos tapped his Core Crystal. "I am one of the first three Blades Father forged."

...what on Alrest am I supposed to say to that? Haze wondered blankly.

Malos's smile was sardonic, and a hair nervous. "You told Mikhail about your ether manipulation ability yet?"

Numb fingers lost their grip on firewood. Wide eyes turned on Malos. Haze's mouth opened but no sound got past her shock. It took another two tries for Haze to manage, "How?"

"It's all in here." Malos tapped his Core Crystal again. "All the statistical information about every Blade, about every Titan. It's all stored in here."

Haze sat down.

Malos continued to set up the fire pit for cooking, allowing Haze precious time to recollect her wits.

"Did you tell Haze what size Titan she'll grow into?" Lord Mikhail's innocent voice queried.

"No, he –" Wait what?!

"Not yet," Malos chuckled.

Mikhail nodded with sage understanding. "You're gonna have her proofread your reb–rebutt–" Mikhail's nose wrinkled as he tried to get the word out.

"Rebuttal?" Haze guessed.

"That word!" Mikhail confirmed.

"Rebuttal of what?" Haze managed to ask.

"There's some guy in Indol who climbed the World Tree. Wrote a dissertation on it. A lot of it's nothing but crap." Malos shrugged as though it were nothing of import.

Except apparently it was important. Mikhail chimed, "Malos is writing a whole book on what that guy got wrong. He might publish it."

"Not going to happen," Malos vetoed.

Mikhail sighed; clearly, this was a longstanding disagreement. Long standing enough Mikhail did not push. Instead he said, "Lora wants to show off."

Thus distracted, Malos smiled. Without further comment then a hum, Malos stood and headed closer to where Lora was still practicing under Jin's guidance. Mikhail sat down next to Haze and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Malos isn't really scary," Mikhail assured Haze. "He knows a lot of stuff, and that's scary. But Malos himself isn't scary."

"That is so, my lord," Haze agreed more on principle than with actual agreement. What Malos had said required significant meditation. Returning Mikhail's hug, Haze privately mused, Malos is a very kind man, indeed.

And he was also letting Lora try taking swings with his weapon. The weapon itself was sheathed – no ether flowed through it, that is – but the delighted concentration on Lora's face made its lack of edge trivial. Malos's own expression was equally rapturous. Even when Lora dropped the sword while trying to take a swing, Malos laughed with unbridled delight.

This, Haze felt, was how things should be.

The house was a rather subtle thing. It was a one story log house; plain and straightforward made from local trees. It was also at risk of being swallowed by the local flora. The local fauna were not too keen on it, thankfully. The door had been securely fastened from the inside. It took Malos poof-ing (teleporting, he called it, but Mikhail's nickname seemed to stick) inside to get the door opened without damaging it. Thanks to its solid lock, the worst the house's interior faced was a hoard of dust bundits.

It was a single sizable room. There was a door at the rear leading to a covered latrine outside. A small kitchenette with a stone stove and a running water basin was set behind a doorway missing a door around the middlish of the house. A single large bed fit for two was tucked neatly to one side, and was in dire need of freshening. There was a bookshelf. Three books remained on it.

"How long you think it's been?" Lora wondered, poking a cabinet open.

"Fifty years? Ninety? Who knows." Malos was likewise investigating various cabinets.

"Whomever came through here was neat about packing. There's not much left," Haze noted.

Jin had gone as if on a whim to the bookshelf. Taking down one of the books, Jin began to read through it. Abruptly, he put the book down.

"Jin?" Mikhail asked, reaching up to tug on Jin's coattails.

"It's a diary," Jin reported. There was a crack in his voice as he added, "Its my past self's diary."

No one asked if Jin was sure. Malos crossed his arms and hummed, "Well. That proves it. This is your past self's old place."

"That means we can keep it?" Mikhail asked.

"Do you want to keep it?" Jin asked in turn.

Mikhail's nose wrinkled as he thought through the question. "It is a nice house. It needs some fixing, 'nd maybe another room or two. It's probably haunted by your old Driver. I dunno if she'd like me 'nd everybody living where your old self and she lived."

"That is a concern," Jin allowed, smiling faintly.

"Perhaps she would be placated with an offering?" Haze suggested. "I know a few simple talismans. We could each make one, and then burn them for her."

"Other option is we get Addam to buy us a house in Aletta," Malos pointed out. "We can take what's left of here, do a controlled burn, and let the dead rest – if they're even haunting the place to begin with." Malos looked to Jin. "Your past life. Your call."

Jin bowed his head in thought. Almost absently, he took Mikhail's hand when the child offered it.

"Let's take what we can. We'll make offerings to the dead and leave the house to stand. ...but living in Aletta's capital seems the wiser option," Jin decided.

Mikhail voiced his immediate agreement. Lora likewise nodded. Haze chimed, "Let me go see if we have everything already."

"I'll help," Lora volunteered. Mikhail likewise jumped into helping with a, "Me too!"

Haze laughed as she was rushed out the door by eager assistants. Chucking at their exuberance, Malos made to follow.

"Malos." At Jin's call, Malos turned from walking to the exit to moving next to Jin. Jin hesitated, breathing deeply; he sharply shoved the journal towards Malos. "The last entry. Read it." Please, Jin's frightened eyes begged.

Understanding the seriousness in Jin's eyes, Malos did not ask questions. It didn't take Malos long to see what had disquieted Jin so badly. Malos read through it once to confirm it was exactly what it looked like. Reading it through a second time in detail, Malos felt a chill down his spine.

Maybe this place is haunted.

Shaking the thought away, Malos closed the journal. "I doubt that's what was used to modify Minoth."

That's it? Jin's incredulous expression demanded.

"A first-forged Blade, remember? Not the weirdest factoid about Blades floating around my head," Malos quipped.

"I don't want to know," Jin realized.

"You do not," he confirmed. Malos handed the diary back to Jin. "Come on. Let's go put history to rest."

Nodding absently, Jin held the diary tight. There would be time enough to ponder its secrets in the coming years. Tonight would be for making peace with the ghosts of the past.

....and for getting Mikhail, Lora, and Haze unwrapped from a snake's snare of wire.

Chapter Text

Time past. Months flowed into years. The old Lord of Aletta past into the ether flow, and Addam was anointed heir and successor. Addam took to politics well enough with Mythra as his guard and Minoth as his right hand. The people of Aletta were already endeared to Addam. They grew more so as Addam's willingness to pour his own sweat into the region's necessary labors, both political and physical, became widely known.

Before too long it became commonplace to see two children and their mercenary Blades in Addam's company. Rumor started the children were Addam's fosterlings; that their parents had been warriors in Addam's employ who had fallen in the line of duty. Their Blades, it was said, were heirlooms; the only legacy of their bloodline which had survived whatever ill fated errand had cost their parents' everything.

No one in Aletta was surprised when quietly, without fanfare, it was announced Lord Addam was formally fostering the two children. The children, Lora and Mikhail, were treated no different after the announcement than before. Their Blades took a few more missions bearing Addam's seal, but otherwise their daily activities changed little.

The reaction from the capital was significantly more dramatic.

"A – a coming of age ball?" Lora echoed. Malos keeping a steady hand on her shoulder was the one thing holding Lora on her feet.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Addam attempted to assure.

"It's worse," Minoth quipped.

Addam glared at the Flesh Eater, a clear, Not helping!

Minoth rolled on as though oblivious: "The balls are designed to show off girls of marrying age to prospective families. Marriage contracts are drawn up over sips of champagne, and neither bride nor groom get to have a damn say in it."

"Which will not be happening in this case," Addam swiftly swore. "For starters, any so-called contract will have to go through me, and I will be having none of it. Secondly, you're far too young to have a commitment like marriage tied in a noose 'round your neck. Third, and forgive me this bluntness, you're being used as an excuse to get me back to the capital so as to insure my own contract gets executed forthwith."

"Contract?" Jin pounced.

Mythra explained, "He's engaged to be married."

"I'm in a better position then most. Angelia and I are old friends. Downside is, neither of us particularly want to be wed. Both of us feel we're too young to be parents, for starters." Addam sighed, "But what is the want of two souls against the weight of a kingdom?"

"Sucks," Malos tentatively offered.

"Does Mikhail have to go?" Lora asked.

Mikhail spoke up: "I wanna go with you."

"It's going to be boring as watching paint dry. And you won't be allowed to fiddle with any gadgets," Minoth stated.

"I could go in your place, Lord Mikhail," Haze offered.

Mikhail fidgeted for a half beat before he rallied his determination. "I want to go with Lora."

"Alright, then. We'll all go," Addam voiced their consensus. "I'm still working on trying to talk them around to holding it here."

"It would provide a temporary economic boost," Jin mused.

"The other reason is so Addam can keep a level of control on the attendees," Mythra continued.

Minoth explained, "Indol has a new envoy doing the political rounds. A Quaestor I know all too well. Amalthus."

"The guy who wrote that idiotic book?" Malos asked.

"One in the same," Minoth confirmed.

"Odds are even he'll be at the party. Neither of us," Mythra nodded at Malos, "cannot not go. We'll be found out."

Malos held his breathing even. "Knew it would happen sooner or later."

Mythra wrapped her arms around herself. "I was kind of hoping later would be never."

"Didn't we all," Addam concurred, a faint grim smile on his lips. With a will, he turned back to the topic: "The absolute best case scenario is Quaestor Amalthus doesn't notice. Worst case is politics run amuck, at which point you lot will leave it to me. Quite possibly also leave with Mythra until things --"

"Not happening," Mythra vetoed.

Addam started to protest. Taking in the various looks being handed him by not only Mythra, but everyone present, Addam bowed out graciously.

They were preparing for bed when their front door opened. The fact it was opened by Minoth, and that Malos and Jin both recognized his ether signature in time, kept their small house from being in need of a remodel. That Minoth was out of breath and his expression was grim told them someone was about to get their rear ends handed to them.

"They sent a ship."

Malos, Lora, Jin, Haze, and Mikhail exchanged looks. Jin asked their joint question: "They?"

"The Dragon Throne."

"The king sent a ship?" Haze gasped. Minoth's grim nod had Haze worrying, "My goodness..."

"Why would they send a ship?" Mikhail asked timidly from behind Jin's knees.

"Half dozen reasons, and none of them good. You already packed?" Minoth inquired.

Given they were supposed to be leaving tomorrow, yes. They were already packed.

Minoth nodded, acknowledging their affirmatives. He was half leaning out of the house, looking down towards the docks. "Grab your things. The ship leaves in thirty minutes with or without us on it."

Hopping to, Haze headed for where they had set their travel packs in preparation for the morning. At Jin's nod, Lora and Mikhail went to change into their travel things and grab any last second items they could not do without.

"Where's Addam and Mythra?" Malos half asked, half demanded.

"Already on the ship," Minoth reported grimly.

"Fu – crap," Malos hissed emphatically.

"They want Addam," Jin realized.

Minoth nodded.

Haze tossed one of the sturdier packs at Minoth. "Go," she urged. "See if you can delay them. We're right behind you!"

A short nod, and Minoth was gone.

"Lord Mikhail, Lora, we must make haste!" Haze called out. There were mumbled acknowledgments from the siblings' rooms. Haze looked between Jin and Malos, torn on whom to ask.

Malos stepped up: "Bags."

Haze grabbed the remaining four packs and handed two to Malos.

"I'll get these to the ship, then teleport back to Lora," Malos stated, already out the door.

Haze fussed, looking around a final time. Nothing seemed missed. Then again, it never did until it was discovered missing.

"Go," Jin ordered, giving Haze a gentle shove towards the door. "I'll carry them."

Still visibly worried, Haze took the remaining two packs. And then made all haste after Malos.

Time flowed far faster then it should. Jin counted the minutes: It had been ten since Minoth had opened the door. Six since Mikhail and Lora had gone back to their rooms. The docks were over a half hour from their home at a rushed human walk. At his fastest, it would take Jin fifteen minutes. He could allow them another three minutes at most.

Two minutes later, Mikhail took hold of Jin's hand. Lora was right behind him. Both were dressed for travel. Jin took the remaining minute to insure all the lamps were out and that things were as secure as they could make them. Together, they exited their home. Lora set the lock.

Jin grabbed his youngest siblings tight and close. And jumped.

Rooftops never had traffic jams, after all.

"What happened?" Lora squeaked out between bounces.

"Addam was forced onto the ship ahead of us," Jin explained.

Mikhail and Lora tightened their holds on Jin. Addam was like a kindly uncle to them. He was family. The realization he and Mythra might be in danger grated on them all.

Mid-leap from one rooftop to the next, Malos puffed into existence. Thankfully he landed on a roof, not in the empty spot between. Jin's baby brother was quick to realize where he was, where Jin was, and how Jin was getting their younger siblings to the ship.

Keeping pace with Jin, Malos reported, "Ship is contracted by Indol."

"Their political envoy?" Jin guessed. The docks were in view.

"Yeah. It's who we thought: Amalthus. He's on-board. I dunno what he did to Minoth, but it must have been nasty. Guy went sheet white when Addam told him."

Jin hummed, making a mental note to keep them all clear of Amalthus. For more than one reason.

Doing so may prove difficult, Jin tactfully acknowledged to himself.

The largest ship in port drifted out of dock.

"That's the one!" Malos pointed.

Jin slowed for the fraction of a minute Malos needed to safely take Lora in his arms. One Driver each, the Blades rushes the docks. Ran to the very edge of the stone wharf. Jumped –!

Not going to make it! Jin realized a half second too late.

Wind burst beneath them. The unnatural jet stream threw Jin and Malos into the air.

Malos caught himself on the rigging. Jin bounced off the wheelhouse before landing on the deck.

"Alright?" Jin demanded of his littlest brother.

Mikhail nodded, excited grin fighting with his concern.

"That was too damn close," Malos opined as he climbed down the rigging. Lora added her own two gold, clinging tight to Malos's neck and shoulders.

"What the bloody hell?!" howled one of the seamen.

"Trust a band of mercenaries to always know how to make an entrance!" Addam's jovial voice rose over the brewing grumbles of the crew.

Haze rushed over to them. "I'm sorry!" she blurted. "I'm sorry! I misjudged the wind's strength!"

"We're fine," Malos waived it off.

"We should practice launches," Jin mused.

Addam was smiling as he made his way to them. The smile did not reach his eyes. "Keep holding on to Lora, Malos. Amalthus is on deck," Addam said. His words were too soft to be heard beyond their immediate group, but his bright tone carried well enough.

“Is he now?” Malos asked, tone equally mirthful.

“He’s the one Indoline aboard not dressed in seaman’s gear,” Addam identified.

Catching sight of the man out the corner of his eye, Jin hummed as though responding to a question. The man in question looked as though he were barely past twenty. A book Lora had purchased in prelude to such a possible encounter had explained how humans of Indol tended to live hundreds of years longer than the human average. The difference had left them targets of the world’s ire too many times to count throughout history.

“Do you think he’ll recognize us?” Mikhail worried.

“Mik’, if we weren’t related, I wouldn’t recognize you now compared to then,” Malos chuckled not unkindly.

Lora blinked as she positioned herself to better block Malos’s Core Crystal from casual view. “Do we really look that different now? Its not even been five years.”

“A lot can happen in such a short time, my dear,” Addam noted with a smile. He wrapped his arm around Malos’s shoulders and nudged the bulkier Blade ahead. “Come now! Let me show you where we’ll be bunking for the voyage.”

Addam kept up a diatribe of happy nonsense as he herded them around annoyed seamen. Below deck was straightforward: One cramped hallway leading to a good half dozen doors. At the far end of the hall was an ornate door, presumably the captain's quarters or their office. Addam ushered them into the door two down from the captain's whatever.

Opulent, was the first word to mind. There wasn't a place in the room which wasn't touched by gold, silver, or marble white. Ornate molding lined walls, bookshelves, the two sets of bunk beds, the small table, the chairs, the floor. It was as if some hermit artist had cracked and decided to set everything they touched to the theme of high art. Their travel packs stuck out like sore thumbs against the room's glitz.

"How're we supposed to sleep with this much...?" Malos let the sentence hang. Back on her feet now that the door behind them was closed, Lora quietly agreed.

"There's only four beds," Mikhail realized.

Jin looked at the room again, trying to see past the glitter. Mikhail was correct: Two sets of bunk beds, two beds per set. Four beds for a group of five.

"There are four more beds in the room adjoined to this one," Addam spoke up, walking to a spot Jin had originally dismissed as more fancy molding gone mad. Pulling on a bit jutting out showed it was a door handle whose door led to an identical room. "If one of us menfolk dares to brave the trap which is three ladies cloistered in a room, we should be fine."

"Jin," Malos, Lora, and Mikhail voted. Haze covered a giggle with her sleeve.

...hiding his face in his hand wouldn't help. It did make Jin feel better.

Mikhail swallowing a gasp on whatever he'd been about to say shoved familial embarrassment aside. Alert, Jin looked to his littlest brother. Wide eyes were staring at –

Minoth. Squeezed into the darkest spot in the room. Who looked like a herd of armu and their calves had stampeded over him. Twice.

Mythra was sitting next to him, holding his hand. At first look Mythra's presence seemed to be the only reason Minoth was breathing.

"What the hell...?" Malos hissed, alarmed.

"If a sea monster decides to eat Amalthus, I'm not stopping them," Mythra declared bluntly.

Mythra condoning another's death was so out of character Jin hesitated to put Mikhail down. He did so anyway. Mikhail immediately joined Lora in pinning Minoth between them in a hug. Why would...?

Jin felt anger freeze the world as it clicked. "Amalthus is your Driver."

Minoth barely managed a nod.

"He woke you. And then he used you."

Another bare nod.

"Flesh Eater or not, he's still your Driver, there's still a..." Malos trailed off on a heartfelt, "Fuck."

Minoth's dry chuckle lacked all amusement. "Being a failed experiment was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. Let me get away from him. Let me actually feel." The Flesh Eater's words trailed off on a shudder. Mikhail and Lora held on tighter.

"Try channeling ether to Addam," Mythra suggested.

Minoth blinked blearily.

"Like that time when the gogols pinned us between their fists and the bridge. You did it then. Try it again now," Mythra insisted.

"What good would that...?" Minoth began to ask.

Malos blurted, "Temporary link override." Everyone save Mythra blinked at him. Malos explained, "Addam's link to you as a Master Driver would override that bastard's. Short term, should work for a while."

"A Master Driver?" Lora blinked.

"Will you just try it already?" Mythra commanded.

Minoth hesitated. Slowly, he nudged Mikhail closer to Lora so that he could reach one of his daggers. Withdrawing one half of his weapon set from its holster, Minoth offered the dagger to Addam hilt first. Addam took it with due reverence.

A flicker in the ether barely perceptible at first. Addam closed his eyes, visibly focusing. After a count of ten heartbeats, the flicker of ether strengthened into a solid rope of a pale blue ether link between Addam and Minoth. And Minoth – took a shaky, relieved breath.

"Huh," Minoth murmured.

"Drivers of the Architect's First Forged Blades get some perks sometimes," Mythra chuckled, tone lightened with relief.

"Once this adventure is at our backs, Mythra, my dear, I do believe we need to have a long talk," Addam mused. Addam deliberately slid Minoth's dagger so it was tucked tight against the sword he always kept on him. The sword's sheathe was not designed for two weapons; it made-do well enough.

"Better?" Lora asked.

"Strangely enough, yeah," Minoth confirmed, still visibly dazed.

Lora gave Minoth a chaste kiss to his cheek. Mikhail copied her example. Chucking, Minoth ruffled the children's hair.

Haze folded her hands against one another as though she wished she could throttle someone. Lips pressed in a worried line, Haze declared, "We must not let any of our Drivers near this man Amalthus without one or more Blades present. We absolutely must not!"

Jin concurred. A rock such as Minoth to be so shaken spoke ill, indeed.

"Should be easy enough to do," Mythra mused. Her expression spoke volumes as to how she would make it easy by force if needed.

"A young lady attending a coming out gala having an escort is not unheard of. Rather, it's considered good common sense," Addam pointed out.

"Haze can stay with Lora," Mikhail suggested, adding quickly, "So the crazy palace ladies won't call Malos mean names."

"And you stay with either Malos or Jin all the time anyway," Lora hummed.

"There! Problem solved." Mythra brushed the concerns off her hands.

"For now," Minoth tacked on.

Jin silently concurred. He had a bad feeling about this...

It is the Blade!

The act of pouring punch covered how his hands shook. Years after the fact, the moment he had discovered the absence of those holy relics still burned. Then, he had been facing a monster chewed hole in his vestments, a lack of rations, a lack of sleep, and an even sharper lack of gold. He could not go back and retrace his steps to see if the holy crystals had simply – fallen. To do so would have meant his death. So instead he had gone to Indol and – well, not lied. One never lied to the Praetor. He had simply told the Praetor what he suspected those stones to have truly been. Yes, the telling had been a touch dramatized. The novelization even more so.

He stepped away from the punch bowl. Sipping the cool drink, he observed the gala's progress.

Ever since that black day, I have searched.

He had dropped few rumors of blessed stones here and there into willing ears. By guile and human nature he had gathered the manpower to search all of Alrest. In all his time Amalthus would had never thought those of Torna would be his greatest allies. Their dogma broke with the holy script to the point of blasphemy.

The crown prince is a fool, self-centered and egotistical. But useful with the proper cultivation.

His eyes caught on a blond man attended to by a noblewoman in simple dress. The man said something which had the woman in stitches. And had his Blade rolling her eyes. The unclean masses may look upon the Blade's Core Crystal and think her no different from any other Legendary Blade.

Amalthus knew better.

And so, too, should have the fourth in line for the Golden Throne.

Addam Origo. Amateur historian, adventurer, and all-around bibliophile. They had exchanged letters on a host of historical topics. In his writings he had seemed naive. Pliable. All too eager to hunt for fabled treasure. Those who met him in person had nothing but praise. Those who served under him thought him harmlessly odd; eccentric, but brilliant. He had taken over as the ruler of Alletta and seemed to be doing well. Popular, at the least.

He had also fostered two children.

The girl for whom this gala was being hosted was aesthetic, he supposed. Amalthus had no romantic interest in mortals and so had no true gauge to judge by. He could at least say her outfit was fashionable: A sequin dress in Alletta tans and golds completed by a silver ferris fur wrap. She was attended by a Blade who looked an awful lot like her, save older and armored as a priestess from one of Torna's odd Titan worship shrines.

How odd for a Blade to look so like its master, Amalthus mused.

It took a minute longer to find Addam's second foster child. The boy was dressed in formal attire appropriate to his young age of eight years. At least Amalthus thought it was eight; it was hard to tell true ages with mortals.  It should be a simple matter to locate - Ah. There he was. One of the masters of ceremonies had drug the boy into a corner and was giving him a lecture –

Amalthus felt recognition slam into him.

He had seen a scene just like this. Just like this. That boy... That boy had been in peasant's garb. He had been standing in front of a house. An older man had begun with verbal chastisement which had spiraled into physical assault. Amalthus had intervened – as a dutiful child of the loving Architect how could he have not? – and in the distraction, the boy had been spirited off.

By a girl double his age. With red hair and gold eyes.

How had children from a town located on a Titan's ass made their way into the Lord of Alletta's household?

Amalthus had to get another cup of punch. The fortified punch.

Rumors said the boy had stolen back the Lost Paragon of Torna. The Lost Paragon. A thrice-stolen Core Crystal: Once at the close of Torna's civil war. Once from a castle in Gormott. Last from the thief who sought profit instead of power. The one and the same whom Addam Origo had dramatically returned to Torna's royal house.

If a boy could steal from a thief , could he not have stolen from a meager monk?

Amalthus held his anger with fraying will. A fool. This boy had made him a fool! Worse, he had awoken one of the Architect's Blades for himself! That power which was meant for Amalthus, thieved away by a mere mortal child!

Had the boy bartered with Addam Origo? Amalthus could see it now: Take this Core Crystal. In exchange, give us what we ourselves lack.

No more. No more! Years of lacking the respect he was due would end. Now.

A few words to the crown prince, and their castle of sand would crumble. Revenge would be so sweet.

Why hadn't Addam warned her this would be harder then mercenary training? It was so difficult to keep a blandly polite smile in place while boys who thought themselves cultured men talked her ears off with nonsense. How in the dragon Titan's name was Haze able to keep smiling? Lora's face burned from the effort.

Roosters, Lora thought numbly while Haze discouraged a youngster from handing Lora a drink. They're all strutting around like a group of roosters.

Ooohhhh...! If only Lora could break off from these idiots! Without Addam in sight, she had no excuse to hand. All she wanted was a glass of the simple fruit punch. The one without the forty bottles of overpriced booze. Actually, two glasses, a pair of chairs, and her little brother's company. Was that too much to –?

Hold on. Who was that person talking to Mikhail? Lora felt more than saw Malos in the shadows behind Mik'. (Which brought an immediate question of where's Jin. The question answered itself given Amalthus the Turd was present. Jin was with Minoth, wherever Minoth was hiding, helping their Blade uncle endure what had to be one of his worst nightmares made real.)

Whomever that person was, they were listening to Mikhail. They weren't just nodding along; they were actually paying attention. More telling: Mikhail was doing all the talking. Her shy little brother was comfortable enough with this dark haired stranger to engage in a conversation? That was... interesting.

An unknown Blade slipped to stand behind Mikhail, next to Malos. Their white armor sucked in the shadows so that they appeared to be just another part of the wall. Lora got the feeling Malos was concerned, then amused. Either the Blade was talking to themselves, or Malos had just found himself a conversation buddy.

More than one of the boys had so much scent sweetener on them it gave Lora flashbacks to mother preparing for a night's work. It didn't help one guilty party was trying to stuff themselves in Lora's face in spite of Haze's attempts to dissuade him.

Oh Architect. Why couldn't there be a monster assault on the palace or something? Anything!

"Excuse me."

Not a boy's voice. Not Addam's best friend's voice, either.

Looking at the speaker, Lora found they were an ethereal and beautiful woman. A Blade wearing a skin tight blue dress to match their living crystal flame three quarters gloves. Their rich blue hair was tamed into a cresting wave washing down her back.

...their hair was also on fire.

Closed eyes regarded them all. To the boys, Lora felt a distinct flick of dismissal. The Blade's attention was fire bright when she gazed at Lora.

"Lady Lora of Aletta?" inquired the Blade.

It took Lora a split second to remember how upper society manners worked. The Blade returned Lora's curtsy with a slight bow.

"Might I ask for the pleasure of your company?"

Let's see. Unknown Blade versus rooster s .

Lora replied without hesitation, "It would be my pleasure."

When the fetching Blade gestured Lora was to proceed her, Lora linked her arm with Haze's. Without a second look back Lora walked in time with her rescuer. She barely registered the fact they were heading for Mikhail until they were all but on top of him.

The boy who had been talking to Mikhail smiled. "Excellent work, Lady Brighid."

"My pleasure, my liege," bowed the Lady Brighid.

Mikhail's happy smile morphed into a concerned twitch. It was Haze who began to ask, "Forgive our lack of manners..."

"It is I who must beg your forgiveness if any be needed."

The boy offered Lora his hand. Resting her right hand in his, Lora had to fight a blush when the boy mimed a kiss to her hand. He couldn't be older than twelve but he acted like he was –

"I am Hugo Ardanach."

"The Ardanian emperor...?" Haze gasped.

Lora blurted, "You seriously went spelunking in an Arachno’s lair with Addam?!"

The emperor chuckled, "Not my wisest decision."

You think? Lora and Mikhail's matching expressions screamed.

"You cannot say we did less then our best to dissuade you, my lord," chuckled the Blade in white. His voice was like listening to a waterfall tumble over rocks.

Emperor Hugo chuckled, "Indeed you did, Aegaeon. The folly lies solely with myself." There was an unmistakable sparkle in the emperor's eyes when he looked at Lora. "Your brother was just telling me of how you bested the beast whose fur adorns you."

Lora felt heat creeping up her cheeks. She hadn't – that wasn't – A third try let her blurt, "Jin did all the hard work."

Hugo chuckled not unkindly. It was Lady Brighid who said, "Your modesty does you well, Lady Lora."

If Malos so much as thought about chuckling at her embarrassment, Lora was going to drown her big brother in feathers and tickle him to death. And get Mikhail, Jin, and Haze to help!

Conversational ice thus broken, their small spot in the corner became an oasis of calm. No roosters strutting for attention. No unhappy mutterings from stuck up nobles. Just... restful quiet conversation. Enough so Lora could forget she wasn't in Alletta.

If Jin, Addam, Mythra, and Minoth were here, things would be perfect, Lora thought wistfully.

Lora saw Malos tense, straightening from his slouch against the wall. His brows furrowed in confusion. Then his eyes narrowed in contained anger, his hand going to his Core Crystal, and Lora knew there was trouble. She caught her big brother's eyes.

"He knows," Malos said.

Swallowing her fear, Lora braced herself. One heap of World Tree sized trouble, here they came.

Being summoned to His Majesty's private study in the middle of Lora's coming of age ball was – well. No two ways about it. It was bad. Bad, but not catastrophic. Addam had put a safeguard in place for Lora's protection from preening teens with more hormones then sense. In his absence, that safeguard would act. Angelia had taken his summons as the opening it was and excused herself from the ball forthwith.

Architect as his witness Addam did so wish he could follow her example. The chains of his bloodline kept Addam strangled to palace politics.

Zettar wants the throne. By Elysium, let him have it! If only I could renounce my titles and go work the land...

Wise of his sire to post him where he had. Aletta was a good compromise. Far enough removed from all matters of importance to be ignored by Tornan politicking, close enough to the land Addam could do some actual work without scandal mucking things up. And if there were ruins to be found, treasures of the past to explore, all the better! He could work the land for his people, study ancient history for his own amusements, and still have time to spend with loved ones. Win, win, win.

Mythra shoved her elbow surreptitiously into Addam's side. When Addam jerked his eyes to hers, Mythra frowned at him.

Quit woolgathering! Addam could all but hear her shout.

Yes. Indeed he should. He needed all his wits here for whatever was to come.

His Majesty sat at his desk with a frown made all the fiercer with his mundane study juxtaposed against his gala finery. To His Majesty's right was Zettar; the crown prince had a cool sneering smirk which would have fit right at home among spectators of a to-the-death gladiatorial match. Very not good, that.

But what had sent a stone sinking in Addam's gullet was the presence of Quaestor Amalthus. The Indoline monk famous for having ascended the World Tree – and surviving to tell the tale – had an expression reminiscent of one of Addam's old tutors. It was a non-verbal tut of disapproval: Your failure is so disappointing when I know you're better than this.

Part of Addam wanted to balk. Here in person was a man Addam had – adored, he supposed. Someone who's love of history had matched Addam's own, and who hadn't let fear hold him back from going out there and getting answers. The letters Addam had traded with this man had left an impression of charismatic wisdom.

But then Addam remembered Minoth's reaction to Amalthus's mere presence. Of how Minoth suffered because of this man's machinations. And he had to wonder: Had there been a dreadful miscommunication? Surly this man of wisdom had not so violated Addam's dear friend. Absolutely not! Except...

Except.

As his late defense instructor had said, Judge a man by how he treats his blade.

The instructor had been speaking of steel, of course. Addam chose to take it a fair bit more literally.

With an effort, Addam hardened himself against Amalthus's charisma. He would watch the monk as he would watch any unknown power stepping into politics.

Addam bowed to his king. "By your word I am summoned, Your Majesty."

The king of Torna raised his head. "Lord of Aletta. I have heard distressing accusations. I have been informed you have betrayed my confidence."

Addam blanched. Don't shout – don't react further! A damned nettle thorn bush I've been dropped in.

"The hell he has!"

...Addam was torn between blessing Mythra's quick recovery and cursing her abysmal grasp of subtle things like court politicking!

"My liege," Addam spoke up, quelling Mythra's next shout with a look, "please. I have betrayed no confidences –"

"An omission of truth is a lie, Prince Addam." Oh, how Zettar could roll a title into an insult.

To ask for clarification and be snarled further, or keep silent and condemn himself for crimes unknown. Damned no matter which path he dared.

"You are a student of histories, are you not?" Zettar pressed. The question was a barb meant to goad Addam into his undoing.

Titans grant him wisdom. Addam had a bad feeling about where this was going. Doing his damnedest to not panic, Addam answered best he could: "I study our ancestors so their wisdom might illuminate the present, m'lord."

"Illuminate the present, indeed," Zettar mocked – politely. The Crown Prince's tone cut the edge of insult.

The king held up his hand. Zettar, eyes flickering with unbridled glee, left his next words unspoken. The king rose to sit with his spine ramrod straight, not a hair out of place. His voice echoed in Addam's very bones: "Addam, Lord of Aletta. Your Blade is no new legend. Nay. She is an ancient legend. The oldest of Blades. You knew this – and said nothing."

"Oh," Mythra cut in before Addam could rally a defense of himself or Mythra, "so that's what this joke's about."

Mythra! Addam could not bring himself to hiss.

Right hand on her cocked hip, Mythra eyed His Majesty, the Crown Prince, and the Indoline ambassador as a noble might an erring peasant. There was a faint flicker within her Core Crystal. Maybe. Either that or Addam had stopped breathing.

...he really should not be holding his breath like this. Passing out, while tempting, would leave Mythra without a champion.

"Are you not the Architect's Blade?" Silk smooth and gentle as a honey kiss – Architect. No wonder Amalthus rose so swiftly through the ranks. Zettar looked a hair more smug as though Amalthus's words had been a gift –

Oh Architect. Amalthus told Zettar, not His Majesty!

Amalthus could have used any number of intermediaries to pass word on to the king. If he had believed the matter of such urgency that intermediaries could not be trusted, he could have gone straight to His Majesty. The gala in progress allowed such protocols to be waived within limits without causing a scandal for either party. Instead, Amalthus had gone to the Crown Prince. He had shown the Praetorium favored Zettar over the current king. Such an indication could loosen His Majesty's grip on power; weaken the controls his supporters held in the capital and beyond. It could give Zettar the political capital to make a push for the throne. If Zettar and his supporters took that capital and acted forcefully and immediately, then...

It would be... bad. Put mildly.

The door to His Majesty's study opened.

Zettar's amusement turned to annoyance. "Who dares barge into His Majesty's private study without invitation?"

Malos's droll tone inquired, "Great hospitality you have, Crown Prince Zettar."

Mythra smirked, a twitch of lips bordering on smug.

Amalthus paled. "Wait!" he urged when Zettar moved to call for the guards.

Malos took a position on Addam's left. Left hand on his cocked hip, a mirror of Mythra's own lackadaisical posture, Malos gave Addam's inquisitors a look on par with Mythra's earlier stare. The purple of his Core glinted for an eye catching moment in the study's light. After a pointed beat, Malos turned his focus on Amalthus.

"You must be the monk who fetched my sister and I from the World Tree," Malos mused.

For a flash of a second Addam thought he saw Amalthus wince. Recovering too fast for Addam to say either way with certainty, Amalthus bowed to Malos as he might a foreign dignitary. "I am but a humble student of the Architect who was graced by his wisdom."

It must have taken a tremendous force of will to stop Malos and Mythra from snorting in disbelief.

Zettar, it seemed, had just caught on. The Crown Prince blurted, "Both Master Blades?!"

A voice Addam had not expected asked quietly, "Is not a Master Blade one of the Architect's first Blades?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Lora answered perfectly. Her tone was demure and her voice was not loud enough to disturb the conversation.

If there had been an ongoing conversation, that is. Zettar's uncouth squeak had left the study empty of sound.

Thank the Architect. Hugo is here!

Hugo, his good friend from childhood, now emperor of Mor Ardain – he was unquestionably a neutral power. Moreover he had enough clout to keep matters from escalating. Addam made a mental note to get his friend a fine gift once this farce was done.

....and also question him as to what had transpired for him to intervene with Lora directly. Titan's foot. Lora had better not have been accosted, or Addam would have words with every brat he could lay hands on!

His Majesty nodded in greeting, one head of state to another. "Emperor Hugo."

"Your Majesty," Hugo responded in kind. Addam dared not look to see if Hugo or his precious allies, the Crown Jewels of Mor Ardain, were taking any action. "Forgive me this interruption. Lady Lora of Aletta was gracing me with her company when summons arrived. Given the urgency, I thought it prudent to make myself party."

Or in other words, Hugo was born with more curiosity then any ten fresh woken Blades put together, Addam privately snickered, doing his best to keep his amusement off his face. If the king called Hugo out on it –

But he did not. His Majesty hummed. It was a wordless agreement Hugo could stay.

That alone let Addam breathe a little around the fear constricting his lungs. Monsters were always bloody easier to deal with than men!

The king's eyes turned from Addam, to Malos, to Mythra, before returning to Addam. "Addam. Were you unaware of your Blade's status when we first spoke?"

"Oh, no, he knew I was a Master Blade. Malos and I told him," Mythra flippantly stated. The disregard her voice carried did not match the seriousness in her eyes.

"And right after we told him, we asked him to keep quiet, even from you," Malos stated, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. His posture and glare effectively screamed, You wanna make something of it?

Apparently Zettar did. The Crown Prince stuttered, "You... you asked? Him?!"

Addam fought a wince, and saw he was not the only one. Amalthus had closed his eyes. The king deliberately did not react.

In three words, Zettar had offered three insults. The first to the Master Blades whom by tone he had insinuated were equivalent to common Blades. Second by choice of word: Shocked at their asking meant he was shocked they could even think. Third, by word and tone, identifying and dismissing Addam as though an acknowledged prince of Torna's royal bloodline had less status than a bug.

At least Zettar had sense enough to realize his folly. He marshaled himself with a tripped over, "Forgive me my shock."

Malos glared at Zettar. Zettar averted his eyes, and squirmed.

(The part of Addam which was still a rebellious teen was cheering in glee. The cruel uncle getting a taste of his own insults was cathartic.)

"Damn straight we asked Addam," Mythra humphed. "Addam proved we can trust him."

Malos turned his glare away from Zettar, and leveled a hard stare at His Highness. "Addam kept his knowledge about us quiet, even from you, even knowing it would cost him. He didn't want to – he respects you."

Unsaid but certainly not unheard: That respect was the one reason Mythra and Malos were being civil towards His Majesty. By all rights as arbiters of the Architect the two Blades outranked every mortal of noble blood in all Alrest. From the way Zettar gulped, everyone in this room damn well knew it.

His Majesty broke the silence to ask: "Why are you here?"

"Oh, the monk didn't tell you?" Mythra asked with cutting sweetness.

A bit too sharp a jab, my dear, Addam wished he could caution. There was a tightness around Amalthus's eyes which bode ill.

It was Aegaeon who interrupted the standoff before it could occur: "As I recall, the texts propagated by Indol theorized the Master Blades had been sent to Alrest to act as judges over humanity."

Amalthus said nothing; he simply nodded.

Erk.

So much could be said – with what was not said.

"We want to be left in peace," Malos stated plainly.

"We also want to see how humans work on a socioeconomic scale," Mythra added.

"You wish simply to observe?" His Majesty inquired.

Mythra and Malos both gave sharp nods affirmative.

His Majesty stayed quiet, eyes half closed as he calculated a whole host of factors with decisive swiftness. After a tense time of silence lasting – had it been five minutes? Less? – His Majesty rose to his feet.

"The Blades of the Architect are echos of his will. Fool is he who does not honor their requests. No word of this meeting or what was discussed herein shall go beyond these walls. Should any ask, we were discussing young Lora's potential as match to my brother's heirs." Is that clear? royal tone and posture did demand.

Addam bowed, adding his quiet voice to others affirming, "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Emperor Hugo. I would ask you escort the lady of honor and her associates. I have need to speak in confidence with my brother and Quaestor Amalthus."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty. Lady Lora is a maiden of great virtue and kindness," Hugo smiled.

Ten to one Lora was blushing brilliant red.

"Lord of Aletta. You may leave."

Addam bowed, managing the usual court nothingness required upon exit. There were some more formalities before all of their group could get clear. And then –

Then Hugo said, "I feel it would be remiss of me to not offer a tour of my flagship, Lady Lora."

Lora hiccuped a bare second before managing a, "My pleasure...?"

Thank the Architect for Hugo! Addam fervently prayed, herding them all at Hugo's unhurried pace. Somewhere between His Majesty's study and Hugo's ship Jin and Minoth joined their oddball procession.

It wasn't until they were in Hugo's grand cabin with the door firmly shut and bolted that Addam dared to voice, "Thank you."

Hugo's smile was a small thing full of wry mischief. "Only you could manage to court a declaration of war from Indol's rising star."

"You caught that too, eh?" Addam chuckled.

"War?" Lora meeped, holding tight to Mikhail's shoulders. Mikhail had a hold of Jin's coattail. Malos and Jin bracketed the children, their matching scowls warning thunderheads.

"In a manner of speaking," Lady Brighid temporized, arms loosely crossed over her chest.

Addam flopped into an empty seat. A gesture from himself and an agreeing nod from Hugo got everyone else into seats as well. Minoth stayed standing, not quite hiding in Addam's shadow. Once everyone was more or less comfortable, Addam began: "Hugo, my dear friend, let me spin a tale for you, if I may, of two children. Blessed or cursed by fate it is not my place to say – but oh! What interesting lives they have lived."

Chapter Text

The third anniversary of Addam's marriage to Lady Angelia was in a month. The whole city felt like it was split between the first gasping breath before a cheer, and the first bracing wince of walking on nails. The cheers were for the small party in the works. Barely qualified as a party: The Aletta palace would open its doors for a celebratory feast, and literally the whole province was invited. The wince...

War was coming.

If it would hit Torna or not, no one knew. But there was talk whispered over quiet mugs of beer. The mercenaries Malos and Lora knew were all saying the same thing: Duck.

Fussing with her armor again, Lora tried to keep all thoughts of rumors of war out of her head. Addam had been called off to the capital not five days ago to try and play neutral arbiter in a multi-province dispute. Something about a wedding gift for one lord's heir's son having been redirected to a different lord's great granddaughter? Whatever it was, it sounded like a headache. Mythra had gone with Addam, of course. Mikhail and Jin had likewise gone along though for a vastly different reason: There was a possible apprenticeship Mikhail had been shyly interested in.

Poor Mik' thinking no one knew about his "scandalous" hobby. So what if he found dancing as enjoyable as engineering! Nobles could be so stupid...

"Lora, love!"

Called out of her woolgathering, Lora snapped back to the present. The main hall looked like one of the practice fields after Haze had wrapped up wind-gust exercises, except with brightly colored streamers. The colored paper and cloth decorations were tossed from one end of the hall to the other. A handful had successfully been anchored to the ceiling; armfuls more made walking through the hall an exercise in watching one's footing.

It took a moment for Lora to find Haze: Mikhail's second Blade was fussing with the servants, footmen, and at least one guardsman around a long table. A visual hop-skip and Lora found Minoth looking like an amused bear at Lady Angelia's side as Lady Angelia herself headed for Lora and Malos.

Good for him not to fret, Lora kept to herself.

She loved Minoth as she did Addam, kindly and eccentric uncle that he was. There were just some times when dealing with him made Lora tempted to pull his hair out. (Not her own; she'd promised Mythra not to do that.)

"Oh, would you look at you?" Lady Angelia put both hands on Lora's shoulders. Ignoring the girl's blush, she pulled Lora into a hug and gave her cheek an aunty kiss. Keeping tight hold of Lora, Lady Angelia stepped back to be at arm's length. "It's a fetching bit of mercenary ware. Not as much armor as I would have liked." Her smile was warmth edged with concern. "But if you wore as much armor as I liked, you wouldn't be able to move."

Blushing at the familial kindness, Lora giggled.

Malos hid his snickering (he had to be snickering; Lora knew him too well) as he stepped into range. "Things look like they're shaping up alright."

Lady Angelia looked around the hall. "I've no idea how we'll have things ready in time. Perhaps...?" The Lady of Aletta turned a speculative look at Lora and Malos.

"Er... well..." Lora floundered.

"Already on a mission?" Malos tried.

Lady Angelia stifled an un-lady like giggle in her hand. "Your faces!" A minute to compose herself, and for Lora and Malos to squirm, and Lady Angelia giggled, "Decorating isn't in the same league as taking on gogols. Not nearly as hazardous to limb, for one."

"Makes up for it in hazard to sanity," Malos grumbled.

Laughing, Lady Angelia smacked Malos on the shoulder. "You sillies.”

The awkwardness was interrupted by Haze gushing, "Oh, Lady Brighid, they're lovely!"

Looking around Lady Angelia, Lora saw it was indeed Lady Brighid of Mor Ardain. The lady of flames was standing next to her water element counterpart. Aegaeon was himself holding on to a not unimpressive arrangement of wildflowers.

And fast on Lora's recognition of both Blades came the realization their liege would not be far away.

Suspicious horror dawning, Lora looked at Lady Angelia.

"Addam let slip the boys had been chasing you again," Lady Angelia confirmed Lora's fears. She hurried to add, "His advisers have been at him again, too."

By then it was too late. Lora's mind had scampered off to a distant meadow to shiver in terror. The man she had a crush on – no, not a crush. Can't have a crush on royalty! Even if he was kind, and generous, and a real gentleman, and could handle a monster assault with the same aplomb as stuffed shirts, and handsome, and –

Malos poked Lora none too gently in the ribs.

"Oh Architect," Lora whimpered.

Lady Angelia, curse her, just smiled.

Lora looked a plea to her big brother. Malos wasn't quite smirking as he shook his head negative.

Malos may not have understood the curse of hormones – Lora was living with it and didn't have much of an understanding herself – but he did sympathize with Lora's fluttery plight. Sort of. He took no delight in her discomfort, but he did find humor in Lora verbally tripping over her own two feet. Which meant he was probably being truthful when indicating there was no escape to hand.

"Good day, Lady Lora."

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no .

"G-Good day! Emperor!" Lora stuttered.

His dreamy smile made her knees weak, and never mind the fact he barely came up to her chest in height. Seeing Hugo smile made the world melt into sparkles.

"Please," Hugo requested, "there is no need for such titles between us."

Lora managed a light, "uh-huh."

...her brother. Was snickering. The Torna Titan as her witness, Lora was going to strangle him later.

"Have you come to assist Lady Angelia as well?" Hugo inquired. Emperor Hugo. Remember the title and Lora might just make it out of this alive.

"O-Of course!"

The part about where Malos and she had been planning on stopping by long enough to say their goodbyes before going to fulfill the day's writs went clear out of Lora's head.

Malos was still snickering. Quietly. And Lady Angelia was smiling.

"Your garden is a treasure, Lady Angelia," Lady Brighid's voice broke into the sparkling fog.

"I fear I can take no credit in its glory, Lady Brighid. Addam's the one with a gift for green," Lady Angelia said brightly. There was a distinct twinkle of mischief in her eyes as Addam's Lady suggested, "We could use a few more flowers for tonight's banquet. Lora, why don't you go with Hugo to -?"

The rest of the suggestion was drowned out by the main door slamming open.

Lora turned to face the intrusion, half reaching for the braided rope wound 'round her right wrist which doubled as her weapon. In quarters closer than an open field she hadn't the room for Malos to lend her his weapon.

Which was frustrating to no end. Lora should have been better with her Blade’s blade! But when the frustrations got too much, Malos wold wrap his hands around hers, around the hilt of his sword, and promise: You'll get there.

A stupid thing to think of now with – was that an Ardanian soldier? The uniform of white, blue, and gold was one Lora was unfamiliar with. An extra pointy hat was kind of silly. So was the fact the soldier was out of breath.

"Emperor!"

Hugo held his ground, his Blades coming to stand beside him. "Special Inquisitor?"

How Hugo could get his tone to be both concern and censure at the same time was amazing. Given Hugo himself was amazing --

No. Bad brain, Lora tried to censure herself.

"My liege!" The man barely paused for a required bow. "Emperor, sir! Word from the capital!"

A morbid hush fell across the hall. Hugo demanded, "Has something happened to my brother?"

"No, sire, the Tornan capital! We have word it is under assault!"

The world stopped.

Lora leaned back. Malos caught her, giving a squeeze to both her shoulders with his hands. Lora could practically feel Malos's attentions go distant. Calling upon his Siren to speak with Mythra's, or so Lora hoped. The Artifices spread word faster then mortals could conceive.

"Assault from Indol!"

Amalthus!

A thought formed without logic, but a conviction nonetheless. Whatever was happening was all Amalthus's fault.

Malos squeezed Lora's shoulders tighter. His breath hitched.

"Evacuate the city."

"Malos?" Lora managed to whisper. Twisting a bit let her look up at her big brother. Malos's eyes were distant, his skin pale, and his expression a breath from a sneer.

"Mythra's Siren isn't answering mine. She's too busy."

Lora blanched. The thought of a Siren being overwhelmed was too outlandish to process. Minoth's expression firmed. He was about to say something –

When an explosion knocked the world upside-down.

If Malos had not been standing so close to Lora, close enough to cover her completely as the world exploded into shrapnel, he would have lost her.

I would have lost my sister .

Loosing a Driver he could have endured. Loosing his sister...

Stop, Malos tried to force himself, stop and think. Lora's alive. You know what you'd do if she wasn't. That was a first bombardment. You need to move!

Shoving the remains of a wall off them, Malos tried not to breathe too deeply. The scorched smell of blasted stone was bad enough. The added scents of the poor bastards who'd been too close to the explosion was damn near too much. Further off he could hear the first screams as witnesses outside the blast radius began to slide into shock.

I know who they are. Were.

He knew the guard duty roster, after all. Hell – he'd helped thump sense into half of them with Minoth.

I am pissed .

That was a bad thing, he acknowledged with a detached calm. Angry, Malos could level mountains. What was to stop him sinking a Titan in his fury?

"Lady Angelia!" Haze's voice cut through the settling motes. Lora's groan murmured as if in answer.

That.

His sister-in-heart needed him. His sister-in-Core needed him. They needed Malos.

So Malos was going to use his anger, not be used by it.

"What hit us?" Lora half asked, half mumbled.

"Dunno. Siren's keeping an eye out for more." Malos gave Lora a swift pat-down. No broken bones or other obvious injuries. Once she caught up with the world Lora would be fine. Like anything in the world ever could be fine again.

"I'm alright now," Lady Angelia said softly.

Haze gave a look to Minoth, a visual hand-off on fussing duties. At Minoth's nod, Haze headed into the worst groans to heal who she could. From the way Lady Angelia was going pale, she already knew there were too damn many beyond all help save Father's. But Lady Angelia got herself pulled together. If anybody saw how she was leaning hard against Minoth, nobody dared to say anything.

"Emperor Hugo."

The Emperor of Mor Ardain paused and attended.

"As Lady of Aletta, I am requesting your ship and your men for the remainder of the emergency."

"I would will it be no other way," Emperor Hugo bowed. ...and maybe Lora's crush was rubbing off in weird ways, because damn, Malos had to admit the diminutive emperor looked badass bowing of all things.

"Get those who remain of the guard to arms. Gather who you can of the town guard. Spread them throughout the city. Work on evacuating everyone on whatever boats we can," Lady Angelia directed.

Minoth turned a look at Hugo. The emperor nodded.

"Get healers to – Minoth!" Lady Angelia protested.

"Sorry, Angelia. Rather deal with you being pissed at me than Addam," Minoth quipped, expression grim.

Lady Angelia did her damnedest to give Minoth a black eye. Considering her current position of being held in a fireman's carry, she was doing a good job of it. Twice already Minoth had to adjust his hold to keep her fist from his face.

"Put me down at once!" Lady Angelia commanded.

"Once you're secure, I will." Picking his way over the debris, Minoth headed in the direction of Hugo's massive warship.

"Minoth!" Lady Angelia bellowed.

Malos looked at Lora. Lora looked at Malos.

"...and on that note," Lora managed.

Shit, yes.

"If you could both assist with mustering the guards?" Brighid suggested. A visual hop found Aegaeon next to the guy Hugo had called Special Inquisitor. Hugo was already at work with Haze doing basic battlefield triage.

"Of course!" Lora agreed readily, Malos a half beat behind her.

With a detached weird calm, Malos followed his Driver's lead. This was a lot like those drills they'd done before for tsunami evacuations except reversed. And with a hell of a lot of blood. And bodies. And –

Malos pushed Lora forward so as to keep her from seeing --. Just seeing the burnt remains of a child's doll said enough.

~Alert.~

Malos's attention snapped to the skies. Through the semi-organized chaos of a full city evacuation, he could barely hear the start of a whistle. Incoming ordinance, according to Siren. Lots of it.

Screw being subtle.

~Targets locked. Beginning orbital bombardment.~

Siren's Furries' Arrows cut across the sky. A heartbeat after their passing, brilliant plums of white fire turned the western sky into a sunset.

Lora grabbed Malos's arm. "That's why Siren was busy?"

"Probably," Malos confirmed grimly.

"Is Haze...?" Lora began.

Malos didn't have the range to check –

~Target located. Transmitting coordinates.~

"Siren says she's on Hugo's ship," Malos told Lora. His sister was too relieved to catch Malos's shock. He'd had no idea Siren could –

~Incoming.~

Malos would have to worry about what he didn't know later. Right now, they were kind of busy.

The view was spectacular from the command bridge of the assault flagship Titan. Spread out below them in layers upon layers were the ground troops awaiting deployment. In three tiers above them, the aerial troops were awaiting their turn at a bombing run. Far enough ahead for it to look no larger than a writhing juvenile aspar thrashed the Tornan Titan.

It was as his research had indicated: The power dampening seal the Tornans of old had applied upon their Titan had limitations. It allowed the Titan to remain in its true state rather than in a hibernation-like form. The trade-off was that the Titan was too weak to participate in its own defense. It flailed wildly, roaring impotently at its assailants, but could do no more.

One of the deck hands came to his side. He gestured they were to speak.

“Bombardment is proceeding on schedule. Eighty percent of provenances have received major damage and can no longer mount a defense. The capital’s defenses are still holding. However… We have word of an unknown power being used in Aletta.”

He sighed, “It is as the Architect informed me. His children have been perverted by the unclean to the point they lash out at those who would save them.” With great sadness did he turn his gaze from the luscious view. “Send word to the zealots. They must take Aletta and Aurersco simultaneously.”

The deck hand saluted. “As the Architect ordains, Praetor Amalthus.”

The first thing she heard was the scream.

Tortured summed it up. A monster's wail mashed with a human's scream puréed with a hint of pure nightmare extract. There wasn't a sound Lora knew which matched it for sheer spine chilling awful.

The second thing she heard was a too human scream. The sound was cut off when a lump of red impacted a house wall hard enough to go through the bricks.

That was a person, Lora realized in a numb blink.

Following the trajectory lead to something that was indescribable. It was not a monster. Those could be gruesome, and horrifying, and smell like bowels. This was – this was something twisted. Out of joint and out of place. It looked vaguely like a gogol out of proportion, with muscles three times their natural size, and skinless. Absolutely bloody skinless.

Architect, Lora wanted to vomit.

The monster... abomination... thing... lifted up its right forelimb. Drying blood caught the light on the metal of its arm. Fresh blood glistened on the three wicked claws extending from the metal wrist.

"A prosthetic limb?" Malos blinked.

Shaking the horror behind her as best she could, Lora moved to cover Malos's blind side. Malos was already moving to cover her own.

"Monsters don't do prosthetic limbs," Lora attempted to quip.

Malos gagged. "Custom order monster. Stay with me, Lora."

...and here Lora had thought things could not get any worse. If someone really had made this thing from scratch --

"Lora?"

Ice. Lora had been dumped in a blizzard's worth of ice.

It can't. It couldn't...!

The monster's head pealed open like a poisoned blossom. At the neck there was a face. A face seared into her nightmares.

"The fuck?" Malos inquired.

"...Gort...!"

Lips twisted into a broken smile. "You remember me, eh? Such a sweet child." Dead eyes narrowed into a glare. "Where's the snowflake which took my arm?" Back to that broken, shattered grin. "I need my medicine. The pain 's too much without it. Blood works best." A death scream again, "I'll bathe in that snowflake's blood I will! Kill you both! Kill kill kill!"

Malos stepped ahead of Lora and raised a shield in the nick of time. The monster's claws scraped across the warding ether with enough force to shove both Malos and Lora back. Unprepared for it, Lora tripped and fell to the ground. There she stayed, motionless.

"Lora!" Malos tried to call out.

But Lora was not there. She was lost under a deep black sea of revulsion and denial sucking her away from the present. The one clear thought in her head was, It's Gort.

"Lora!"

"Lora!" parodied the monster.

"You shut up!" Malos roared.

"Come to take what's mine, girl. Come to take your flesh 'n' bones. No snowflake here to save you -- ever!"

Curling in on herself Lora thought the sound alone would make her die.

It's Gort.

Darkness lit the world in light devouring flames. A soft hand gripped her shoulder.

"Sister."

Malos's voice. Malos's hand. Her brother's voice. Her brother's hand.

My brother needs me.

Lora had not let the fear Gort had beat into her stop her from protecting her little brother.

I'm not going to let him stop me from helping my brother now!

Getting up felt akin to tearing through half dried bricks. It took all Lora had to grip Malos's hand. And everything more to get back to her feet. Malos pressed his weapon's hilt into her hands. It's fire cut into the fear which chained her throat tight.

"You. Are nothing. But a sack of rotting meat."

The thing's smile twisted her knees. Malos's firm grip kept her standing.

"Brave words from a bitch's bastard."

Malos growled.

Heart in her throat, Lora threw herself into battle.

The Emperor of Mor Ardain must always be a Driver. It is he who fights with all his soul to defend the Empire and her people, and so. The Emperor must be a Driver.

Sickened by the scents and sights, Hugo at last understood his father's words. If this were true war – Architect. Anyone less than a Driver would be minced meat.

A small part training kept dim noted, The cuts are too small for mincemeat.

"We have done all we can, my liege!" Lady Brighid warned.

Bracing himself against Aegaeon's guard Hugo could not disagree. Yet he still had need to. There were two people dear to the brother of his heart who had not yet made it to safety. There was still sand enough in the hourglass to secure their escape. Even so, Hugo felt the press of time. Haste was sorely needed. A rough sketch of the evacuation plan Minoth had provided would put his targets –

Right were an explosion of darkness cut a shimmering dome into the sky.

Convenient, that, Hugo quipped.

The Special Inquisitor would keep the line of retreat open. Hugo had a more pressing matter to attend.

"My liege!" Lady Brighid and Aegaeon both called out too late. Hugo was committed to a forward charge, and little would waylay him.

...a half dissolved monster groaning in human tongue did the trick. Even as it moaned, "My medicine," the monster was eaten away by a halo of black flames. It gave a final ghastly groan – and then was gone.

"What on Alrest was that?" Lady Brighid wondered, voice turned ephemeral with sick horror.

"I know not, Lady Brighid, save it was enough to push a Master Blade into using skills left chained," Aegaeon grimly noted.

Which brought to immediate mind – where was Malos? Surely he could not be too far. Where Malos was, Lora would be as well.

Near lost beneath the sounds of Aletta reducing to rubble, there came a faint groan. Following the faint sound led to a sight Hugo knew he would see forever in his nightmares: Malos kneeling on the rubble, blood pooled around his knees, dribbling down his chest, his arms, his hands. Cradled against his body was a form half his size, likewise coated in blood. Malos's head was pressed tight against the small, slim body's head and shoulder. The Master Blade's hands clung tightly to red hair and scorched black armor. Malos's silver eyes were open yet sightless. Tears cut glistening tracks through the ashy grime coating his face.

"Lady Lora...!" Brighid hissed.

The sound snapped Hugo back unto himself. Marshaling his scattered wits, Hugo readied himself for what would doubtless by an emotionally hideous brawl. If the Architect favored then it would be brief. Hugo raised his voice as he approached: "Malos!"

Blinking himself back to reality, Malos's eyes turned towards Hugo.

"We must retreat," Hugo said firmly. There was no luxury for sympathy on the battlefield.

Malos nodded dumbly. Squeezing his eyes shut, tightening his hold on Lady Lora's corpse, Malos composed himself. Rising to his feet looked as though he were lifting the weight of the world. The shear depth of the injury which had ended Lady Lora took Hugo's breath from him. Whatever had past Malos's guard had come close to gutting her. From her breast to her groin were red from spilled blood and --

Hugo's breath caught. It must have been a trick of the light. It must have. With wounds such as those surely Lora could not be breathing...!

Hugo saw the faint glint of Core Crystal purple shimmering like a twilight star upon her breastbone, and made an imperial decision not to think too hard.

"We must make haste," Aegeaon urged.

Keeping one eye on Malos and his burden just in case the rubble caused interference, Hugo followed Aegeaon's advice promptly.

With a final wrenching call, the Titan of Torna began to sink beneath the Cloud Sea. Draped across the capital’s streets lay one of the Architect’s divine tools. The glorious edifice of ethereal white and gold sprawled across broken buildings, a puppet with its strings cut. It was a magnificent machine. Perhaps the damage done could be repaired and the machine reprogrammed. An Artifice set to serve himself alone would be an invaluable tool.

“Your Holiness.”

Looking over his shoulder to see what the attendant wanted, thoughts of rightfully re-purposed Artifices were set aside. There were guests to attend to. One was a man adorned in white cloth and silver armor, whose silver blue eyes were narrowed in a glare. A glitter of blue upon his brow peaked through the man’s snow white hair showed this man to be a Blade. He was left unbound with hands, feet, and ether flow granted full movement. What bound the Blade was far more effective than any bonds: A small blond boy with Tornan blue eyes had a sword pressed against each vein in his throat by two guardsmen. If the Blade so much as lifted a finger, the boy’s fate was assured.

Amalthus smiled.

Chapter Text

Passive sweep active.

Scanning...

Scanning...

Negative result. Executing command.

Power flowed to dormant systems. Fingers twitched as servos reset. Visual interfaces reactivated, brightening optic receptors. Ether flowed through flight systems to grant the illusion of wings. Gravity countermeasures activated the "halo" to allow for true flight. There was a momentary delay in departure: The Titan's remains had settled over the unit such that it was immobile. Logs showed enemy forces had attempted to remove the obstacles with minimal success.

An appropriate application of force lifted the rubble clear. The unit slipped out cleanly. It replaced the rubble so that it looked, from a distance, as though the ruble had settled and crushed the unit.

Unit command offline. Pinging active unit.

Active unit response received. Adjusting flight path.

The sunless depths of the oceanic body colloquially known as the Cloud Sea were no obstacle to the unit. It moved through the viscus medium with as much ease as it moved through atmosphere or vacuum. The directions of the active unit's command were clear: Passive scans only. Enemy forces were to be avoided. All encounters were to be avoided. Safety of the command and the command's command were absolute priority.

Destination reached. Passive scans indicated a single Titan, mid-size, subcategory: medium. Passive scans indicated two Blade units aboard the Titan. Passive scans indicated one human.

Passive scans indicated the presence of the active unit's command.

Proceed.

Rising above the clouds caused the Titan to shift position. The reaction was from shock. The Blades and human aboard the Titan's back likewise reacted in shock.

"By the Architect...!" hissed the fire element Blade.

The water element Blade moved in front of the human. Ether sensors detected a jump in ether around the Blade. Formation of shield imminent. The water Blade stated, "Emperor!"

"Malos?" inquired the human.

The active unit's command was tense.

Obeying the active unit's command, the unit moved forward. Once sufficiently above the clouds, the unit bent forward from its waist. Simultaneously it opened the cockpit so that the command and the command's command could be accessed. Reaching forward, the unit assisted the active unit's command in accessing the cockpit.

"Damn," he hissed. Movement within the cockpit. "Come on, Mythra. Get up. Addam needs you up. ...I need you."

The unit's command entered active status.

"M-Malos...?"

A deeply relieved sigh. "It's me."

"What...? Addam!"

Command directed assistance in exiting the cockpit. The unit complied, using excess caution with its hands.

Unit will hide within the Cloud Sea at maximum depth and enter standby.

The unit complied.

The beach a stone's throw from the Spirit Crucible was filled with tense silence. Waves from the Cloud Sea lapped against the shore, marking the time. Across the sandy bay another tree was felled. Hammers thudded and shoves dug into soil to set the foundations of a rapidly expanded village. The caretakers of the Spirit Crucible were kind, good people, who had taken Lord Addam's wife as their queen without a heartbeat's hesitation.

Lady Angelia was busy even now helping the survivors move forward. There was barely time for her to breathe, much less to sit and wait. Supplies smuggled in from Mor Ardain needed hiding, manpower needed organizing, planting had to begin now or there would be no harvest to sustain them through the cold months. No one here would dare to think of harming a hair on Lady Angelia's head.

Hence Minoth hovering about like a henpecked nanny ready to do some henpecking, himself. He didn't dare, though. Haze was tied into too many worried knots to broke such actions peaceably. Thinking about why made every ache knife keen.

A haunting beat of air against wing membrane thrummed through the silence.

"Here we go," Minoth murmured more to himself than to his companions. He stood at attention, hands on his sheathed weapons, ready to move. Haze's hands tightened on her staff, likewise ready.

At first it was impossible to see what was coming. The night's darkness was bright with good moonlight, but not so bright the unaided human eye could see. A shape emerged in the dark. The clouds of the Sea were disturbed by the shape's passing as it dipped lower. Lower... It dipped into the clouds – right as the shape became recognizable as Azurda.

Azurda's first words on reaching the shore were, "They're alive."

A tiny knot of tension eased. Its loosening let breath come a little easier. Easy enough to rise to their feet.

A figure near as familiar as their own reflection jumped from Azurda's back. Golden hair streamed behind the figure as they ran, a living banner of sunshine warmth. Arms strong enough to shatter boulders for all they were thin as sapling branches wrapped around them with feather softness. It took everything they had not to cry.

Mythra pulled back from the hug without releasing them. "Malos told me," she blurted.

Lora dredged up a smile; a wane and broken thing. "I'm," she began.

Mythra silenced Lora with a slight head shake. Tears threatening, Mythra rested her forehead against Lora's.

"Addam's alive," Mythra murmured, voice a whisper. "He's alive. You're both going to get better. Then we are going to find Mikhail and Jin. And take our brothers back."

Closing her eyes in a fruitless effort to hold back tears, Lora returned Mythra's hug as tight as she could. Her knees were already starting to shake for a reason other than heady emotion. Shame burned in her breast. Ten days resting meant she should have been better. Instead she felt limp like a useless pile of molding mush.

A known hand rested on Lora's shoulder. Lora did not move, feeling too pathetic. As coordinated as a pair of dancers, Mythra stepped back out of Lora's hold – and in the same step Malos pulled Lora off her feet, into his arms. Feeling small, weaker then a child, Lora tucked her head against the crook of Malos's shoulder. Here she was, the older sister, reduced to a sniffling infant.

A flicker of purple light brushed the edge of her sight. A feeling equal parts gentle and firm urged Lora to close her eyes. Yielding to exhaustion, Lora obeyed.

When she next opened her eyes, she was in an unfamiliar room. The walls looked like they had been extruded out of some kind of off-white metal or hewed from stone. There was an impression of thickness to the walls. The way things were so bare, it felt like the room was a prison cell of some sort. A very soft prison; easily escapable. The door's lock looked simple enough a hair clip could pick it.

She did not rise from where she sat upon her knees. Lora did not remember getting out of bed to sit in Jin's favorite meditative pose; but then, she didn't remember being put in this room, wherever it was. Maybe... she'd gone sleepwalking? The thought rang hollow. Lora sighed, a slow and steady breath which felt out of joint with reality. And then she looked down.

The hands she stared at were warmer than her sickly complexion could account for. They were clad in half-gauntlets made of pale silver metal. A lilac purple cloth wrapped around the armor both to secure and decorate it. It took another minute of detached calm for Lora to realize what was a going on.

I'm so worried about them, I'm dreaming I'm Jin.

It would have been funny if it weren't so surreal.

As it was, Lora felt tense. Anxious. Mikhail was nowhere in sight, and that was wrong. It was a wrong she could not fix because this was a dream. It was a wrong Jin could not fix, either, for reasons that felt misty. Naked steel at bare throats. A warning promise of blood watering the ground if actions were or were not taken.

Lora felt cold. Mikhail was a hostage in this dream.

Please let it be a dream.

There was a blizzard of anger swirling inside Jin. The fate of Torna was known to him. He feared, too, his siblings shared their homeland's end. There was nothing he could do. Nothing –

Pain ripped into him, feeling like lava dribbling onto his naked soul, and with it a knowledge something was wrong with Mikhail!

Lora bolted upright. Jin's screaming stuck in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Hastened by panic and the secondhand searing of pain Lora scrambled. She knew this bed. Knew it by the scratch of the rough cotton pillowcase against her cheek. Knew the feel of its wooden frame creaking under her fingertips. The quiet sounds outside of people at work forming fields were drowned out by the pounding of her blood in her ears. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Rough hands, known hands, gripped Lora by her wrist and forearm. The hands pried her fingers off the bed frame; steadied her when Lora jumped out of her skin. Wide eyes took too long to find, to track, to identify a face carved into her heart. Malos was saying something, his lips were moving, but Lora couldn't hear her brother through the thick dread deafening her.

"Haze," Lora croaked around Jin's echoing scream. Malos's brows wrinkled as he frowned, puzzled. Lora gripped Malos's forearm tight and tried desperately one more time. "Malos. Where is Haze?"

"Haze is with Addam and Mythra. Addam woke up –"

Lora cut off Malos's words. Pleading, praying, "Please. Please! Make sure Haze is alright! Please! Now!"

"Only if you lay back down," Malos commanded, voice ever gentle.

Lora did as bid. Panic still clenched her gut tight even though it had – it had! – to be a dream. Wide eyes she could not shut watched as Malos, satisfied for the moment, exited the guest room Lora had been assigned to convalesce in.

The time after his exit drug out. Five minutes. Twenty minutes. Two hours. An eternity. Lora could not close her eyes save to blink such was the tenacity of her fear.

The door to her room opened. Was it good or bad Mythra entered instead of Malos? Addam's Blade took the chair from its spot against the wall. She placed it in front of Lora's bed, roughly even with Lora's head. Heavy as if a Titan rested on her shoulders, Mythra sat down.

"How did you know?" Mythra asked, voice softened with numbing shock.

"Is Haze...?" Lora tried to ask. The question jabbed into her ribcage and refused to be spoken.

"Malos is getting her stable," Mythra answered.

So Haze was not okay, but she would be. Malos would make sure their sister-by-Core was okay. Lora licked her lips, relieved and horrified all at once. It took every ounce of breath in her body to say, "I had a dream I was Jin."

Their war council met at lunch the next day. The delay, Laura knew right off, was so that everyone could be present.

Addam could not be moved, so his bedroom was the only local where they could meet. Hugo's involvement could not be known, or another Titan was sure to sink. There was little risk of local informants selling to Indol, but spies were always and ever a possibility. And so Minoth milked the fact callers upon Lady Angelia's dwelling was nothing new for all it was worth to spirit Hugo and Aegaeon into the little cottage.

Because of that, and the fact Lora's room was in the same cottage, Lora and Malos arrived first. Haze was seated next to Mythra, hands clamped tight Mythra's hands. Lora could see Haze's touch in the arrangement of the chair's. Lady Angela had prepared a small table with refreshments. Addam was sitting up in bed, attentive and alert. His eyes were bright and his voice was solid, if a bit quite from his obvious scrape too close to death.

First things first for Addam: "I understand you were catatonic for near a week after the Fall, were up and about for a ten day stint, then went right back to catatonic until yesterday afternoon. Given I myself was out for damn near an equal amount of time, I'm in no position to thrown stones. I am in a position to demand a hug, young lady."

Smile escaping around her worried frown, Lora hobbled over to Addam's side. Once her arms were wrapped around Addam's shoulders, Addam grabbed Lora gently but firmly around her waist.

"Addam," Lora protested weakly. If she had truly wanted to, Lora could have freed herself from Addam's grip by force. Instead she yielded to the embarrassment of being hugged by her eccentric uncle of sorts.

Addam murmured, "I'm sorry," so softly Lora might have imagined it. Addam gave Lora a gentle double pat to her back then let her go before Lora could question it. Given her legs were a bit shaky, being let go then was good. Lora needed to –

Malos nudged Lora into a chair at Addam's bedside before Lora could negotiate herself to one further off. Satisfied his Driver was safe from immediate trouble, Malos plopped himself into the chair next to Haze. Sandwiched between the two Master Blades Haze breathed a touch easier. Haze really was still out of sorts: She didn't give Malos so much as a blink when he idly snagged a bit of her floating gold ribbon to play with between his fingers.

They were seated for less than five minutes when the door opened. Two cloaked figures, one short and one not, walked casually into Addam's sick room. Their features were hidden in the shadowed depths of their cloaks' hoods. Minoth said something with too much joviality to be true mirth. The darkness Flesh Eater shut the door behind him with a definitive thud.

"We're clear," Minoth announced.

Needing no further encouragement, Hugo and Aegaeon took off their disguises. Aegaeon had secreted in with him a thick packet of something. Notes for the meeting?

"It is good to see you awake, Addam," Hugo greeted.

Addam took Hugo's offered forearm in a warrior's handshake. "Even better to see you, dear Hugo. I've been told everything. I can't thank you properly for getting Angelia, Lora, Malos – everyone! – out of Aletta."

"I did nothing you yourself would not have done were our positions reversed," Hugo humbly deflected.

"Doubtless with infinite less flair and ten thousand times more efficiently than I," Addam chuckled.

"I can agree to the former," Hugo chuckled amicably. He settled into a chair set off-center to how their gathering was shaping up. Aegeaon stood at his Emperor's side at parade rest.

"Have we time for tea?" Addam inquired as a good host should.

"I fear we do not," Aegeaon answered.

The stuffed packet landed on the table with the same demanding thud of an explosions sans boom. The water Blade's next words were equally devastating.

"What spies and informants Mor Ardain has cultivated in Indol have been removed." He allowed a beat to process before ruthlessly thrusting onward: "All counties with intelligence networks within Indol have been similarly affected. Certain rarefied circles are worried enough to consolidate intel. The information is... not good."

"They're conducting human experiments," Lora said.

It wasn't a hard fact to figure. Lora knew Mikhail had been... hurt... deeper than simple wounds. There was the possibility of that other unspoken evil. The one Lora had been threatened with half her life. But the pain Lora had felt when she had dreamed she was Jin... It had been too visceral to be something so (horrifically) normal.

Hugo and Aegeaon nodded confirmation. It was Aegeaon who opened the packet and withdrew two papers clipped together.

"The synopsis. Copies of the pertinent information are here," Aegeaon tapped the packet, "collated by report date and reference within the synopsis."

Minoth spoke next, gravity making his voice like gravel in a dark stream: "I had a source within Indol's refugee camp. They're here. Got out with one of Mor Ardain's spies." Minoth nodded his thanks to Hugo, who reciprocated with an equally grim nod. "People in the refugee camps are vanishing. They'd go to get their rations, or take a day job, or even use the midden. Nineteen out of twenty would never be seen again.

"The one seen again – if they're lucky enough to be seen – it would be days later. As new recruits of the warrior monks' elite monster squad."

"The same monster squad rumor paints as being monsters themselves, I take it," Addam guessed.

Minoth's grim nod answered.

"That same squad has seen a surge in enrollment," Aegeaon resumed. "What our spies could find indicates Indol has secured sufficient weaponry to sink multiple Titans."

"The Fall of Torna was meant as a warning," Hugo stated.

"Cross Indol at your peril," Addam deduced. His frown was deep enough to double as a valley. "What are they using as their justification for attacking?"

Aegeaon bowed his head. Hugo closed his eyes. Minoth gripped his sheathed daggers tight enough the leather of his gloves creaked. It was Minoth who endured the poison enough that he could spit it out.

"The Master Blades."

Malos let go of Haze's ribbon before the dark fire flaring in his hands could touch her. Mythra sucked in a breath with the force of a punch.

"But His Majesty had no intentions of war...!" Addam protested futilely.

Minoth shook his head, grim and sad. "Didn't matter. Torna had weapons beyond the world's ken. Attacking preemptively was," Minoth scoffed in distress, "self-defense."

"Far worse, I fear," Hugo added into the angry quiet.

It was Aegeaon who broke the news: "Prater Rhadallis was struck down ten days before the Fall. So too were his allies in the Praetorium. Official reports say their deaths were at the hands of the Architect." Aegean allowed them the needed beat to get over their incredulity. "Three days before the Fall, his successor was named. The Sage of Sight – Amalthus."

Silence thundered for a long minute.

"Amalthus is the Praetor?" Haze squeaked.

Rage had Malos on his feet roaring, "What!" In the same moment, the same rage had Mythra on her feet bellowing, "Bullshit!"

"Sage of Sight?" Addam demanded the instant the world stopped ringing.

"Praetor Amalthus has been receiving visions. From the Architect," Aegeaon reported, tone deadpan.

Addam's eyes shot to Minoth.

"I heard rumors to that effect. I had no idea he was a good enough actor to pull it off," Minoth answered, snarl twisting his lips. The Flesh Eater was visibly kicking himself for his lack of follow-through.

"What is he saying?" Malos growled, the sound low and feral. Mythra was starting to pace behind Haze and Malos, a cadged beast.

Aegeaon and Hugo exchanged looks, silent debate on who best this bad news should come from. Aegean offered himself as sacrifice.

"According to his... visions... the Architect's most beloved children, the Master Blades, were corrupted by Tornan hubris. Moreover," Aegeaon ground on over outraged snarls, "the only way to restore them was to remove their Drivers from existence. However, as the Blades responded with violence to parlay --"

"What parlay?" Lora snapped, beating both Master Blades to the question.

"These are the facts being circulated, Lady Lora," Aegean calmly explained.

The heavy reality settled over their group with weights of cast iron. The facts. Architect. Shout the truth as loud as they wanted – send Artifices to shout for them in every town on every continent! – and they would still be drowned out. Amalthus had gotten himself a hold of an amplifier sized World Tree in scope. The reality stood immutable: There was nothing they could do.

"He's right, you know," Mythra said into the choking depression. Her emerald eyes were gemstone cold as Mythra looked at Malos.

Malos's expression chilled into a black mirror. "We are the greatest threat in Alrest."

Mythra nodded. "Two Siren."

"One minute," Malos concurred.

"To sink Indol?" Minoth figured.

Dual nods chill as hail in summer's heat.

Lora curled her hands around the too large cloth shirt which was her nightgown. The fabric pulled so tight it was at risk of tearing. She wanted to see Indol burn. She wanted Amalthus dead. She wanted it so, so desperately, she could taste the ash on her lips.

"So you would kill Mikhail and Jin."

Addam's quiet deceleration drew them in.

"Of course not!" Malos protested.

"We'd get them out first! Then we'd cut loose," Mythra insisted.

Addam shook his head, slow, solemn, as though weighted by a crown.

"Don't you want them--" Mythra began.

"I want the bastard dead."

The room as a whole recoiled from the venom in Addam's tone. Above all else, the most frightening thing was how Addam looked... normal. His eyes were fixed on the packet of damning intel, but his posture was relaxed. Addam did not look like he could strangle a man to death bare handed. But he damn well sounded like it. Addam's led eyes turned on Mythra. To Addam, Malos and everyone else were an afterthought.

"If Amalthus is killed outright, here, now, the people of Indol will name him martyr. They will lay blame for his death upon the survivors. They will erase Tornan blood from the Cloud Sea, unless every child of Indol irregardless of age is removed first. In self-defense."

The words hit. Mythra and Malos looked away, shamefaced.

"I hate Amalthus more than I thought any man could hate. If I let that hate consume me – if I let Amalthus use me to drown Alrest in red – we will have truly lost."

Lora dared to ask in the resounding silence, "What do we do?"

It was Minoth who answered: "We get our people out."

"But how?" Lora pressed.

Minoth looked at the Emperor and his Blade. "You don't want to hear this."

"I cannot, no," Hugo agreed. Aegeaon fetched their disguises as Hugo stood. "You must visit me in the capital once all is as it should be."

"I can think of no better way to thank you for your generosity, old friend," Addam answered, voice soft.

Silence held as Hugo and Aegeaon left under Minoth's watchful eyes. It thickened with their departure. It grew tense when Minoth returned to give the all clear.

"The floor is yours, Minoth. What size of bundit are you keeping up your sleeve?" Addam wondered with forced levity.

Mintoh's grin was a leviathan's smile.

Before they could take action, they first needed to secure transportation. What they needed to get in, out, and take care of their wounded was something bigger than a skiff but smaller than a cruiser. Most minor countries or islands had skiffs at biggest, so they were right out. They could not feasibly borrow an Ardanian vessel, given they were going into the heart of a torkin's den. By that same token, they couldn't commandeer an Urayann ship. The goal was rescue their own, not fan war's flames.

They divided up the tasks by whom could best do what. Supply requisition fell to Minoth; he was best able to gather things surreptitiously with the aid of Lady Angelia. To Haze fell the details of organizing those supplies for transport. Locating their target vessel was given to Mythra and Malos. The duo had tools at their command uniquely suited to the task. Moreover, the hunt took them out of Lady Angelia's domain.

It was a necessary aggravation: One of the Emperor's spies had warned word of Addam being alive had gotten as far as Indol's shores. If either Master Blades or Addam were spotted within the pseudo-village by unfriendly eyes, the survivors of Aletta would meet their lost kinfolk in the worst way possible.

The same day the Master Blades and their Sirens took to their tasks, Addam and Lora shunned doctor's orders and took to training. Haze's healing Arts and the two being Drivers helped tremendously.

During the hunt, Addam, Lora, Haze, and Minoth used what scraps of free time they had – to plot. There was so much they didn't know...! And so they planned for what they could, and for the rest... they hoped.

At dinner the forth night, Malos teleported next to Lora.

Given Lora was seated at the dinner table with Lady Angelia, Addam, Haze, and Minoth, there was a momentary uproar. Lady Angelia, having never seen Malos's poofing trick, leapt to the worst case conclusion. Without hesitation she grabbed the boning knife from the fish and used it as a substitute throwing dagger.

Malos caught it before the blade's edge could be worse than nicked on his armor. "Nice reflexes."

Blushing from embarrassment, Lady Angelia mumbled a, "thanks," and set to hiding behind her water glass.

"We found it," Malos stated without further preamble.

Minoth's spine went straight, a hound catching the scent. Addam leaned forward, eyes narrowing in keen interest. Haze visibly perked, flagging hope restored. Lora gasped, breath caught with the same hope. Lady Angela grabbed Addam's shoulder.

"You're certain?" Addam asked.

"Certain enough Mythra's on her way back," Malos affirmed.

"Then it is time. We leave at first light," Addam declared. Out the corner of her eye, Lora saw Addam take his Lady's hand under the table.

It was time to say goodbye.

The rest of the evening past in a blur. Lora remembered tending her ablutions, and Malos brushing out her hair like old times. She remembered seeing to Haze and feeling a warmth in her chest. Lora watched from a kitchen window Addam and Lady Angelia speaking with a page boy of Gormotti decent who ran off at Lady Angelia's dismissal. The boy made haste up what had become a main pathway, towards the closest town had to an elders' house.

Lady Angelia is calling a meeting this late?

It was then Lora knew with absolute certainty. Addam was not coming back.

They were never coming back.

For the first time in a long time, Lora wished she was wrapped in her furs.

Mythra arrived during the darkest watch of the night. The golden Blade came into town unnoticed, mostly because her mode of transport made himself far too obvious. Azurda, the mad old Titan, had himself quite a lark at ferrying in Mythra from the shoreline to the Lady Angelia's dwelling.

"I'll meet you you-know-where shortly, shall I?" Azurda mused happily.

"Nut," Mythra snorted an accusation.

"Mythra."

Pausing at the threshold, Mythra turned back. The levity had drained from Azurda's eyes.

"Don't forget what we discussed."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Mythra promised, "I won't."

It was the maddest pile of dung Mythra had heard in a year. But so too was the though of Torna sinking beneath the Cloud Sea, and – well. That had happened.

Pressing her worries aside with a will, Mythra entered Angelia's dwelling. The forever Lady had managed to do some nice work decorating. It almost looked like it had been lived in for decades instead of weeks. Angelia herself kneading a loaf of bread added that final earthly touch. Sneaking would have been a lost cause. Squaring her shoulders, Mythra walked towards the kitchen.

"He always wanted to be a farmer, you know," Angelia hummed. The sudden words checked Mythra's walk. Her chuckle as she pounded the dough was thick with mourning twisted joy. "He was going to be the best farmer in the kingdom. His grains would be the envy of every nation. And he'd give me a cut of those grains so I could be the greatest baker in Alrest," Angelia winked. The mirth stretched thin under reality's weight.

Mythra held her left elbow with her right hand as though to make herself a smaller target.

Angela rose from her work. She took a flour stained rag in both hands. A flick of her wrists and Angelia had the dough neatly tucked away to rise.

"How naive we were back then. Ignorant of duty. Setting plans our blood could not suffer."

Angela stepped away from her resting work with a sigh. Her gaze turned with the weight of boulders. Flour had settled in her hair in a loose tiara crown. A false crown for a throne-less queen.

"Save him from himself, Mythra."

Meeting Lady Angelia's eyes, Mythra swallowed. Her answering nod was shallow, barely a dip of her head. It was enough to receive a relieved wafer thin smile.

Mythra was saved from further conversation by a soft voice calling, "Lady Angelia?"

Turning towards the voice, Mythra paled for an entirely different reason. Haze looked ill. Blades couldn't get ill! Her color was off, her steps short, and she was keeping one hand to a wall to better catch herself when she inevitably lost her balance. Haze's eyes were clear, though. Clear and bright as she saw who had arrived.

"Oh, Mythra!" Haze quietly cheered. The wind Blade pounced forward to snag Mythra in a hug. Mythra returned the hug gently, fearful of harming Mikhail's second. The hug didn't last long. As quickly as she'd moved, Haze pulled away. "Oh I must check the supplies now. There mustn't be any further delays. Oh!"

And Haze was off, presumably towards the supplies. A worried look to Angelia was answered with an equally worried sigh. Mythra knew Angelia well enough to read the sigh as a statement: Yes, she's been getting worse.

Mythra fetched herself a glass of water so she could swallow down a desert in her throat.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Azurda delivered them to a tiny lush Titan barely the size of an island. The last Titan of Torna had made good time considering he was confined to swimming. The risk of flight during daylight, when any good eye could spot them, was simply too great. Hidden within the shadows of the dense foliage was Malos's Siren. Mythra's was still submerged in the Cloud Sea, keeping watch for subtle dangers.

"You're certain it's here?" Azurda asked.

Malos, Mythra, and Minoth worked on schlepping their supplies from Azurda's back to the thimble's worth of shoreline this Titan had. Haze was watching over Addam and Lora, who were under strict orders to conserve their limited strength for now.

"It's here," Malos confirmed. Right hand freed for the moment, he pointed down.

Azurda hummed, "Well well."

With the last of the supplies offloaded, Azurda hesitated. "I'll tend to the Spirit Crucible. Just... Architect damn you, live. Do you hear me, you lot?"

"Nuncle..." Addam murmured, half stepping towards the Titan.

"Don't you Nuncle me," Azurda humphed. Maybe there was a sniffle, too, as he grumped, "You're the worst of the bunch."

"Take care of yourself, old man," Minoth spoke for them all.

Azurda nodded, his jaw clenched against tears. Unable to stay any longer the dragon Titan made his exit back into the Sea.

There was a heavy pause on the beach. They waited, each lost in the seas of their thoughts, until Azurda's form grew too distant to see clearly.

Taking a heavy sigh, Addam said, "We've too much work ahead, my friends."

Nods of agreement circulated.

"Still splitting like we agreed?" Mythra asked.

Malos nodded confirmation. “My Siren will stay on watch with Lora, Addam, and Haze. We,” he nodded at Minoth, “will go down with Mythra in her Siren to get the boat.”

Lora asked, tentative with the question, “What if its not the Mono-- Monoc--” She wrinkled her nose as the word twisted her tongue.

“Doesn’t matter,” Minoth interrupted kindly. “Whatever ’s in the dock below, it’ll be black ops. It’ll be what we needed.”

“Enough talk. Let’s do this,” Mythra snapped, turning sharply towards where her Siren was rising from the Cloud Sea.

Minoth and Malos exchanged nods. Malos took a needed minute to give his sisters one last hug, before hurrying towards Mythra’s impatient grunt.

Luck was on their side.

Time was not.

Chapter Text

The hallway was quiet. Pressed flush against the false wall, Minoth closed his eyes to better focus. The passageway was night dark save for the faint glowing of Blade crystals. Just beyond the false wall lights flickered chasing visible shadows from the path. Minoth reached into the dark with his own ether. Doing this in the heart of the Praetorium’s central complex was a risk… but a risk well worth its rewards.

There was no life within the dark. No objects around to prevent their exit, either.

Breathing out an even breath, Minoth triggered the tumblers. The false door gave a quiet creak as the mechanisms within went to work for the first time in who knew how long. It popped out a touch, just far enough to smoothly slide to one side. Minoth stepped out first making sure to keep one hand on the door mechanism to keep it open. Just as he had figured, there was indeed no one in the hall. Putting a finger to his lips as a precaution, he gestured the others were to exit.

Malos slipped out first. Using his dark armor to their advantage, he headed for the darkest parts of the hall. Heading down far enough to keep them in sight Malos set up watch. Mythra slipped out next and headed for the opposite end. At the Wise Blades’ nods, Haze and Addam exited. Minoth let the false wall slide back into place. There were scrapings in the dust where the door had moved which had Minoth wincing. Nothing to do for it. Stepping back, Minoth eyed the hallway. They should have been…

A grin tugged on Minoth’s lips. Hope made the damn ugly wall hanging depicting the Roots of the World Tree look angelic.

Their group gathered at said damn ugly wall hanging.

“We’re on the seventh level,” Minoth confirmed, voice just loud enough not to carry. “If they are doing human experimentation, they’ll be keeping them on the floors below the dungeons. That’s ten floors down. The Praetor’s office is one floor above. The tunnel to the dungeons is one floor below.”

Nods answered his words. It was exactly what they had planned, after all.

“I’ll give you a count to a hundred, shall I?” Addam asked.

“Lora’s monitoring,” Malos reminded him.

Mythra added, “So ’re the Sirens.”

“I’ll withdraw once I’ve seen Amalthus off,” Addam promised.

Another beat for nods to be exchanged. Minoth nodded last. “A hundred,” he confirmed with a pointed nod. Addam answered with his own nod, and slipped to hide behind the ugly wall hanging. Gathering the others with a nod, Minoth headed in the direction of the back stairs.

They made it to the stairwell without incident (close call with a monk nose deep in records notwithstanding). Minoth eased open the door. Haze and Malos went in first. Mythra… hesitated. She looked back towards where Addam should have still been hiding. She looked back at Minoth.

“Azurda said...” Mythra began hesitatingly.

Minoth sighed and closed his eyes. Bidding farewell to that lost hope, he nodded.

Mythra tore back the way they had come with as much stealth as she could manage in her haste.

Minoth eyed the other two. Malos and Haze both looked concerned, but neither looked like they disagreed with Minoth’s decision. Minoth took the lead again both heartened and worried in equal measure.

Don’t do something terminal, My Prince…

Mythra to her task, and they to theirs.

Pushing down the hornet's nest of worried concern, Minoth pressed forward down the stairs. Luck held for a time: This stairwell was supposed to be one of the out-of-the-way side ones and consequently saw little use. For the decent down that supposition held true. Pausing at the correct door, Minoth listened once more. Once again there was no sign of life beyond. Breath held in his chest, Minoth risked it.

The door opened, not onto a hallway as it should, but instead into... a lab. A lab stuffed to the gills with Core Crystals, old Judicium crap made equal parts of rust and working systems, monitors galore, and one visible computer at the room's far end. There was a man seated at said computer. A scientist if Minoth had to guess. The man was…

Shit.

He was facing the door. There was no way to avoid him. The goggle-like glasses he wore amplified the mirth in his eyes. His tone was equally jovial, though dry as sandpaper. "Well well. If it isn't Minoth. Crawling back to your Driver now you've nowhere else to go?"

Haze and Malos were pressed against the wall behind him. Drawing on all the calm stagework had pounded into him, Minoth affected to look only mildly annoyed. "Can't say I know you."

"No, you wouldn't, would you. You were too busy screaming at the time," hummed the scientist. The man's grin sharpened at Minoth's tense twitch.

"You were there?" Minoth asked, hands gripping his weapons to keep from gripping his Core.

"I was a minor assistant," the scientist confirmed. His grin grew (teeth, Minoth's imagination supplied) as he gestured for Minoth to approach. "Come, come! I believe you, of all Blades, will find this data most enlightening."

Though he would have rather run, Minoth headed towards the scientist. If the madman noticed Minoth's hesitation, his desire to share his work dismissed it. The monitor the man pointed to was an indecipherable mess of numbers, symbols, and -- were those genetic codes? Architect... Minoth's limited research into what Amalthus had done to him was turning up grisly dividends. It was also sinking his stomach into a pit.

What the unholy hells has Amalthus been doing?

Minoth already knew he didn't want to know – but was going to find out anyway. Like as not Mikhail and Jin were right in the thick of it.

The scientist lifted his hand with giddy rapture to point out a grisly image of a corpse, saying something about how the life expectancy had doubled with intervention from –

Haze's staff landing firmly atop his head called down silence.

Minoth started at the unconscious body. He arched a brow up as he looked at Haze. Yes, he was relieved the madman was down. In terms of their mission, though, this could be a problem.

"Sorry?" Haze offered, clearly not sorry at all. Or at least not regretting her hasty action.

"We needed him for the new map," Minoth spelled out. Given there weren't supposed to be any labs on this level, he'd thought the need obvious.

"Like you don't know enough about their systems to hack it," Malos drawled. He was already at the main entrance keeping an eye out.

"Here's hoping," Minoth sighed.

"We've made it this far on hope," Malos quipped.

The response was automatic enough to sound like a mantra. Minoth kept a counter-quip to himself. If an odd saying helped keep Malos steady in Hell, Minoth would take the boon. He wished he had his own mantra as he faced the computer.

These things couldn't have changed much in a half century.

Tentative at first, then faster as his keystrokes were accepted, Minoth made his way into the system. Amalthus's old access cold worked; man was an idiot when it came to security, thank the Architect. A few more rapid keystrokes and Minoth had the new central complex layout on the main monitor.

"Here we are." Minoth pointed to the spec of a room on the displayed complex-wide map. Looking over the inscriptions, Minoth found the ones most likely to be the holding cells. They were labeled specimen holding cells. All things considered… Swallowing bile, Minoth pointed to the cells in question. “Here’s our best bet to start searching.” He traced his finger through a latticework of stairs. It looked like they could get from this lab to the cells directly through a single passage. Made sense. Mad scientists wouldn’t want to be too inconvenienced in getting their specimens.

Minoth looked at Malos and then at Haze. Malos showed he had been paying attention, nodding without hesitation. Haze held her staff tight.

“Is the Praetor’s office still where it should?” Haze asked.

Minoth frowned. That was a good question. Returning his attention to the map, Minoth hunted down the – yes. There was the icon for the Praetor’s master chamber. The half office, half meeting hall was right where Minoth remembered it being. Tapping it to draw Haze’s attention to it, Minoth –

Damn near jumped out of his skin when the image lunged forward.

Once he was sure it was still an image and not an actual thing with teeth, Minoth put his dagger back in its sheathe.

“The hell?” Malos murmured, drawn from his watch at the door. Haze likewise murmured a quiet, “Goodness.”

A figure in the image moved. A figure in ornate Praetorium robes drew the heavy curtains sharply over the main window. Their moving clued Minoth to the fact this was live video from the Praetor’s office. He leaned back to eye the still unconscious scientist and proffered a quiet astonished whistle. The guy had the guts and the smarts of a three day starved volff to put spy cameras in the Praetor’s office.

“Amalthus!” Haze hissed the cursed name.

Malos put a soothing hand on Haze’s shoulder. The Master Blade leaned forward, squinting as though he were glaring into the sun. “What’s that on the floor?”

Minoth took a closer look. The lump on the floor had coloration close enough to the Praetorium’s gaudy white and gold so as to blend into the decor. The spreading stain of dark red was enough to contrast it against the flooring. The bright shock of blond… hair…

Minoth slammed his hand down on the keyboard. The apparatus jumped and the image shattered.

Haze dared to whisper, “That was Addam…!”

“We can’t go back,” Minoth stated, tone flat with suppressed rage. Addam was as good as a Driver to Minoth. More. A good friend. For Amalthus to be so cavalier with Addam’s cooling corpse…!

Haze straightened, spine stiff as a plank. She whirled on Malos. “Get Lord Mikhail safe.”

“You’re going to risk what Addam sacrificed himself for?” Minoth snapped, hanging on to a civil volume by the edges of his fingernails.

“He’s not dead yet, or else we would know. Mythra would know,” Haze countered just as fiercely.

Minoth took a breath to argue. Saw the set of Haze’s shoulders, and the matching tenseness in Malos’s posture, and let his arguments fall unspoken. Instead he asked, “You remember the way?”

Haze nodded.

Minoth nodded in turn. He couldn’t bring himself to do more.

Haze was off through the stairwell with the haste of a bolt from heaven.

“We should speed this up, too,” Malos softly suggested.

Weapons held too tightly, Minoth gave an agreeing jerk of a nod. A final withering glance at the scientist, and he was moving forward with Malos into the depths of Hell.

Mythra kept still behind the false wall. Every inch of her was screaming to charge through. To run Amalthus through on her sword just like Amalthus had run Addam through on a common dagger. Her Core Crystal was burning in sun-hot agony as the affinity ether links began to break. There was still hope – still time – trickling away, sands in a broken hourglass.

Mythra could hear through the peephole in the wall the sounds of curtains being snapped shut. Footfalls crashed against hard flooring. Amalthus’s cool voice sneered. What he said was lost, his tone too cold to hear. Something about fitting ends for a thief's fence.

A door slammed shut. Mythra forced herself to stand on her tip-toes again so as to see out the holes. There was no one in the room any more.

The false door opened too slow for Mythra’s liking. The heartbeat it was open enough for her to slip through, Mythra was moving. The rest of reality faded into obscure nothing as she slid to her knees by Addam’s side. Hesitant for a beat, there was so much blood, Mythra turned Addam over so he was face up, cradled in her arms. Her fingers dared to trace the tears in fabric and flesh. The dagger had already been removed courtesy of Amalthus. It had done as much damage on exit as entry. Mythra took Addam’s cooling hand in her own. She brought his lax fingers to her chest.

It worked for Malos. Mythra dared to pray, Let it work for me.

Addam’s fingers touched against Mythra’s Core Crystal.

Time lost its meaning. Space became an abstract thing. There was a void of nothing. There was light.

There was Elysium.

The last ten minutes of Addam’s life boiled inside Mythra’s awareness. The shame. The guilt. The conviction death was the only answer. The magnitude of it all had Mythra turning on her heel at the first, “Um?” and slapping her hand across Addam’s face hard enough to leave an imprint.

Addam fell to his ass.

“He was right,” Mythra exclaimed. Unable to face Addam’s bewildered expression, Mythra twisted away from him. She needed to put at least a few feet between them before she slapped him again or something. Throwing her hands in the air, she vented, “I can’t believe Azurda was right! Azurda and Angelia! Both agreeing! Both being right!” Mythra lost words to express her aggravation and so settled on a screamed, “Argh!”

“Mythra?” Addam dared.

“The plan was you were supposed to distract Amalthus, not let him stab you,” Mythra snarled. She stomped a step forward when Addam opened his mouth. “Don’t.” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t even pretend the stabbing bit wasn’t part of your plan.”

“Yes, well… I rather didn’t have much choice.”

At least Addam was man enough to face his fate on his feet.

“You let him stab you to death because you thought it was your fault Mikhail was taken,” Mythra snapped.

“It rather is.” Before Mythra could round on him, Addam held up a hand. “I was supposed to protect Mikhail and Lora. I was supposed to protect my people. I let Amalthus’s forces take Mik’. I let them take the capital. You can’t say we put up a good fight.”

“I sure can!” Mythra countered. “Amalthus had his troops armed for taking down Titans, in every definition of the word. Short of having Siren go all out – which would have sunk Torna!”

Addam clicked his jaw shut to keep his counterargument silent.

The angry frustration drained out of Mythra. Voice softening under her exhaustion, Mythra sighed, “We did everything we could.”

Addam gently brushed a stray lock back behind Mythra’s ear. Achingly gentle Addam corrected, “You did everything you could, my dear. Not I.”

What Addam was not saying rang church bell loud: My final duty unfulfilled. I did not die upon the battlefield.

Just like Azurda had called it. At least the dragon had also left Mythra a hint on how to start fixing things.

“So that’s it. You’re going to abandon Mikhail and Lora.”

“I’m hardly,” Addam began to counter.

Mythra cut him off. “You are. You absolutely are. No one knows what Amalthus has done to Mikhail. All we know is he’s alive. What if Amalthus turned him into the same kind of monsters that attacked Auresco?” Addam winced. Mythra viciously pressed her advantage. “Are you going to make Lora kill her own brother? Are you?”

“Minoth,” Addam began.

“Minoth won’t stand between a warrior and her duty,” Mythra countered sharply.

Addam winced, looking away.

Silence spun between them. Mythra looked towards the lake. Addam turned his face to the sunlight sprinkling through the leaves.

“In the end, it matters not. The die is cast,” Addam quietly mused.

“Do you want to die?” Mythra held up a hand when Addam’s first words were, my duty. “Not what I'm asking. I’m asking do you want to die?”

Silence held again.

Addam dredged up a quarter smile. The admission looked painful as he whispered, “Not particularly.”

Mythra nodded. “If you don’t want to die, put your hand on my chest.”

Addam did a double-take, taking a half step back in shock. When he saw Mythra was serious, though, he stepped forward. Addam looked blankly at Mythra’s bust. When Mythra’s Core Crystal flashed, realization lit Addam’s expression. Resolve firming, Addam reached forward.

The touch of Addam’s fingers against Mythra’s Core Crystal was rose petal soft.

As half the light which was her life filled Addam’s core, Mythra was reminded roses had their thorns.

Light. Pain. Live.

...ow.

There was a jerking sensation against her shoulder. A voice filtered in next. They were saying, “Mythra. Mythra, wake! We must make haste!”

...that’s Haze.

Oh. Right. They were still on Indol. Fighting the half in, half out feeling dragging at her, Mythra got to shakily to her feet. Addam was right behind her, and was equally as shaky. If not for Haze, Addam would have swayed back onto the ground. He sounded drunk as he wondered, “Whatever happened to the wall?”

The Monoceros's night drinking hull replaced the star speckled sky. The hanger door opening was a louder shout to hurry up than any voice could achieve. Then again, someone might have been yelling after all. Things were pretty blurry.

“Please forgive me this once,” Haze requested.

Bulkheads were hard. Bulkheads when being tossed into them by Haze’s wind were extra hard. Addam being tossed onto Mythra’s back cut short attempts to protest. The pressure changed as the door closed at Haze’s command.

Well, Mythra mused to herself, shuffling Addam off her. Haze’s quick footsteps were on their way over. At least the short flight cleared the fuzz out of my head.

Now to get the rest of her family – and get the hell out of here!

The cell door opened smoothly. Half formed plans to rend his jailers apart were discarded for an immediate lunge forward. The figure being bodily thrown into the cell was pale as his hair. It mattered little. Jin would know his little brother even if the child were turned into a Nopon.

Collapsing to the floor in an effort to keep Mikhail from further harm, Jin cradled Mik’ close. The ether link between them was strained nearly to the breaking point. All Jin could feel was an echo of Mikhail's pain. There was no pinpointing the source or how best to remedy it. As Jin laid Mikhail flat on the floor, he realized his hands were shaking.

“You gave me your word,” Jin growled. Ice ether tightened around him. The ether was all too willing to be shaped by his fury into lethal knives.

“And I have kept to it. The life of your Driver remains in your hands.”

Amalthus’s censure set Jin’s blood boiling. Damn the bastard for being smart enough to bring guards.

It took a Titan’s measure of his will to say instead of growl, “What have you done to my brother?”

“No more than insure a fate befitting the thief of the Architect’s Children,” Amalthus replied, coolly coy. A hand adorned with too many rings made a dismissive gesture.

The cell door closed.

Jin’s hands did not stop shaking.

Jin jerked awake. There was something happening. Something important…

Mikhail was shivering again. Once more Jin cursed these Architect forsaken bastards. Logically, he knew why they had stripped Mikhail of every last stitch of clothing. Intimidation. Torture. Mind games. Still, Jin wished they had given him a blanket. Something Jin could use to make his fevered Driver more comfortable.

Day by day gathering ether was getting harder. Shakes in his limbs were becoming more prominent. Mikhail’s unnatural illness was mirrored in Jin’s flesh. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jin willed a chip of ice into being. Careful as possible Jin slipped the ice chip between Mikhail’s lips. Keeping his little brother hydrated was all Jin could do.

Soon, Jin would not be able to do even that.

The cell door shook. The guards come to deliver their meal.

Calling his weapon to him, Jin held Mikhail close. I will kill them, Jin knew. Jin was out of hope and Mikhail out of time. But at the least Jin could be a final thorn in the bastard’s –

Fate had other ideas, it seemed. The cell door – dissolved.

Jin lowered his weapon in shock. The door dissolved before his wide eyes into familiar black pyre sparks. It was impossible, though. The one person Jin knew with an ability that looked similar was dead. Dead and sunk to the Cloud Sea’s bed, along with the Torna Titan. There was no way under the Architect’s sky that –

A dead man put his head through where the door had been. He winced on seeing nothing, turned, and his expression brightened with relieved concern. “Jin! Mik’ – Oh, fuck, Mik’…!”

“Malos?” Jin croaked.

The dead man walked inside the cell. “Its me. Its me, Jin,” swore the dead man. His hand was alive and warm when he touched Jin’s cheek.

Jin dropped his nodachi. Had it not been for his baby brother, Jin would have dropped to his knees. Full body tremors wracked him with blinding pain and all Jin could say was, “Malos…!”

You’re alive! My baby brother is alive! ...my Driver is going to make it out of here.

“You have to get Mik’ out of here, Malos.” Jin tried to grab Malos’s hand, to press Mikhail into Malos’s arms. Each time Jin tried to move his body refused to respond. The situation was grimly amusing: Now, when there was finally hope, was when his body began to shut down.

Flickers of purple light danced from Malos’s hand over Mikahil’s chest. “This explains so fucking much about what happened to Haze.”

“Language,” Jin censored on automatic. Malos snorted a dark laugh. There were more pressing issues than Malos’s choice of language. “What happened to Haze?”

“She’s fine now. There’s no time to explain. We have to get you both out of here.”

Jin shook his head negative. It was the only controlled shake in his whole body. “I won’t be able to make it. Whatever they’ve done to Mikhail, it… it tampered with our resonance. I know I’m dying, Malos. Mikhail won’t make it out of here if you have to carry my dead weight.”

“Let me see your Core,” Malos requested.

Stupid, stubborn, idiotic – Jin acquiesced, knowing that if he didn’t, Malos would just waste more time. Time Mikhail did not –!

Jin felt Malos’s touch as if from a continent away. It felt as though intangible fingers were reaching into Jin’s Core Crystal – were reaching into Jin himself. Those deft, intangible fingers brushed through Jin, searching… searching… Their owner’s shock was a bitter taste in Jin’s mouth.

“Dying, hell,” Malos cursed. His fingers continued to brush over and through Jin’s Core Crystal and sense of self. The whirlwind that was Malos’s thoughts jerked to a conclusion. “Your past self would have never had a situation this screwed in mind when he left you those instructions.”

Jin felt his thoughts likewise jerk to a stunned halt. “How would my becoming a Flesh Eater now in any way help Mikhail?”

Jin did not like Malos’s smile. At all.

“Not a Flesh Eater.” Malos’s free hand drifted over his own Core Crystal. Jin felt that touch from a distance. “This would buy you twenty minutes of your old strength back. If we’re lucky. Ten if we’re not.”

“Ten minutes until what?” Jin dared to ask.

Malos’s smile tore at Jin’s heart. “Until the cascade mutation triggered by eating part of my Core Crystal hits critical mass and knocks you unconscious.”

Jin’s eyes went wide; he found himself breathless as though he had been punched. It took too long for Jin to manage, “Malos...”

“It’d barely be the size of a pinky nail. My Core Crystal would patch it inside twenty seconds. Even if it couldn’t be patched,” Malos brushed Jin’s cheek, “I’d be willing to pay a hell of a lot more to keep you, big brother.”

Architect help him…

Jin licked his lips. Held tight to Mikhail. Breathed the words he knew would break everything: “Do it.”

Malos’s Core Crystal glowed. Its darkness sucked all of the light out of the world save its own purple luminescence. The light dominated Jin’s sight. A sliver of it broke away, a shooting star splintering from a passing comet. The sliver fell towards Jin. Not fell; was carried. Carried by Malos’s hand to Jin’s lips. The light fizzled on Jin’s tongue. It dissolved like melting ice, filling Jin’s mouth with a sensation of a flavor. Tipping his head back, Jin closed his eyes… and swallowed.

thump-thud

Gasping down a scream, Jin convulsed. The light burned inside him. As if from a distance he felt his heart speed and his lungs burn and –

“I can move,” Jin forced himself to say.

Because he could. Jin could move. So long as he could draw breath, he would protect his family.

My family needs me to move.

So Jin was going to move.

It was the most surreal thing Malos had ever done.

It wasn’t the breaking off a piece of his Core Crystal. Not even the part where he fed a piece of his Core Crystal to Jin. No. The most surreal thing Malos had ever done was run down a hallway with Jin carrying a fucking naked Mikhail, while Jin slowly started to loose himself to the other building up inside him.

Father. Malos should have melted that bastard Indoline scientist. Dissolved the rat bastard the same way he had dissolved the cell doors. But no. No. Malos just had to be a good guy. It was too much to hope Haze’s hit had knocked the brains out of him. Haze herself was near as bad off as Jin… had been.

Malos shot a look over his shoulder. Jin’s Core Crystal had gotten noticeably brighter, and his breathing was as heavy as if he had run from one end of Torna to the other without stopping. But Jin was still moving. Still focusing on holding tight to Mikhail, on moving forward.

Minoth’s ether signature flared with a subtle spark. That was the only thing that saved the Flesh Eater from getting his face melted off as Malos turned the corner, coming eye to point with Minoth’s daggers.

“Damn,” Minoth breathed reverently, lowering his weapons, “you found them. I’d thought...”

Malos didn’t need to see the bodies (or parts of bodies) in the rooms behind Minoth to know what, exactly, Minoth had thought happened. Malos warned, “There isn’t time! They did something to Mik’.”

“Just to Mikhail?” Minoth demanded, eyeing Jin.

“No time,” Jin hissed. Jin shook as though he were a ferris shaking the rain off. Malos did not have to look to tell Jin’s eyes were loosing focus. He could hear it in the catch in Jin’s voice as his big brother warned, “I can’t… keep moving… for much longer...”

“Ask later. Got it.” Minoth flicked his daggers so they were guns once again. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Language,” Jin snarled.

“Yessir,” Minoth demurred in good humor. At least as good a humor as anyone could get inside Amalthus’s made to order hell.

Father, Malos wanted to puke. Instead he reached for Lora’s half of their shared Core Crystal.

His Driver’s emotions were bright as a sun. Attention shifted to controlled fear danced into relief before blurring into acknowledgment. It felt like his sister had gotten a hold of a rope tied around Malos’s ankle and was pulling Malos in with all her strength.

“Lora’s got the ship ready. Everyone else is on board,” Malos reported.

“You two picked up some neat tricks from the Reaper,” Minoth quipped.

Jin’s breath hitched as though he’d tried to say something, except the words were no longer getting from his head to his mouth. Malos winced. They were so close! If Jin could hold on to his old self just a few minutes more…!

The window and its surrounding wall ten paces ahead got shot through by a pissed off Mythra.

“We are getting the hell out of this place!” Mythra declared with zero regard for stealth.

Screw it. Yes. They were. And Siren was already giving Malos targeting solutions for maximum damage with minimum civilian casualties. Which, Father, that was so very tempting. But they needed to get out of here looking exactly like what they were: A bunch of Tornan survivors out to give Indol hell. Not a pair of First Forged Blades, their Drivers, and immediate family.

Jin was jumping through the hole with a strength he hadn’t held even as few as five minutes ago. Part of Malos wanted to laugh because damn, Jin was awesome. Part of Malos wanted to burst into sobs, because damn, his big brother had to be hurting.

“What the hell?” Mythra demanded.

At least she waited until after the hatch closed, Malos noted absently. Siren was tracking the Monoceros’s retreat. They were diving at a fast clip; almost too fast to be safe. Addam must have been driving.

Mythra reiterated, “What the hell?” as she eyed Jin as though he were a bomb with a temperamental fuse. Fair enough. Right now, Jin kind of was.

“Get Haze and Lora down here. Indol stuffed a Core Crystal into Mikhail and resonated it,” Malos swiftly explained.

Mythra blanched. Without another word, she was scrambling for the intercom.

“Minoth, go make sure Addam doesn’t wreck us. Go,” Malos insisted. Minoth hesitated another second, eyeing Mikhail – no. Eyeing Jin. Ether was beginning to radiate out of Jin to the point it was a visible haze in the air.

Mythra snapped, “Go, Minoth! As much as he thinks he doesn’t Addam needs a hand. Malos and I will take care of Jin. Go!”

Visibly reluctant to do so, Minoth at last left.

Mythra whirled on Malos. “What did you do?”

“Flesh Eater modification using my Core Cyrstal,” Malos explained. Mythra’s jaw hung open. “His body was starting to transition to a Titan!”

“Without a matrix chamber? How…?” Mythra shook her head, shaking off the thought. “Tell me later. Making sure we all survive is priority.”

Nodding agreement, Malos headed for Jin and Mikhail.

There were words being said. The words were heard, but not understood. Everything hurt too much and everything was too hot for anything to be understood.

“What have they done to you, my lord?”

“Shoved a Core Crystal in him and resonated it. That’s what Malos said.”

Screams. Screams were not words. Screams were easy to understand. They meant pain. The voice that screamed was familiar. That voice… That voice should not be screaming.

“Stay still, Lord Mikhail. Malos and Mythra are aiding Jin.”

Jin… Jin was the name of who was screaming. Jin should not be screaming. Trying to shove aside their own pain made the pain even worse. Trying to ignore the pain made it worse. Every action would make things worse. Vaguely a memory reiterated always trying made things worse.

But not trying would mean not getting to Jin. And that… that could not be allowed. Jin needed…

Jin needs me.

With that thought came awareness, and a knowing so deep it hurt: Jin needs me.

The screams stopped. Which meant… Which meant…!

I have to try harder. Jin needs me!

“Take me to Mik’.”

Jin!

He needed to move. He needed to get up. He needed to get to –

Cold reached into him. It sucked away the heat. It dampened the pain. It picked up the broken, shattered pieces inside him; wrapped them up in soft delightful coolness. It froze the broken pieces back into a whole and he –

“Jin!” he gasped, bolting forward, eyes wide.

His voice sounded wrong; too deep. The world around him looked wrong; too short. A chill wind pushed against his back. Looking forward, he found a single hill with a single tree. Beneath that tree was –

“Jin!”

It didn’t matter that his legs were too long, or his voice too deep, or how everything still hurt and not hurt simultaneously. Jin was waiting for him under the tree. That was all that mattered to… to…?

“Mikhail.”

Mikhail. Right. Mikhail was who he was. Jin was Mikhail’s biggest brother and Mikhail’s first Blade. Coming to a stop in front of Jin, Mikhail wasn’t sure what to do. Jin seemed… short but not short? Did Mikhail give Jin a hug or…?

Jin’s hand brushed against Mikhail’s face. It was just like that time years and years ago when Jin had first awakened. Just like that time, Mikhail leaned into Jin’s touch. The pain Mikhail felt froze and shattered into powdered ice.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jin asked, gentle as falling snow.

“I didn’t even remember my own name, Jin,” Mikhail warned. Warned or whined; it was hard to tell.

Jin brushed his hand across Mikhail’s cheek as he reached down. Down to touch –

“Breathe,” Jin ordered.

Mikhail breathed in a breath that shook with – terror? Why was he scared? Hadn’t he always had a Core Crystal? No… No, he hadn’t had a Core Crystal before… Before what? Why could Mikhail not remember anything?

Why did it feel like part of him was melting away?

Jin’s determination twisted his features into a scowl. “Haze. Her resonance with you is breaking down.”

“If it breaks, she’ll...” Mikhail swallowed a sob or a scream or both. “We can’t let Haze die, Jin! I think… a lot of people have died… I don’t want Haze to die!”

“Call her here,” Jin ordered.

The words made no sense. How could Mikhail call Haze anywhere? He didn’t even know where here was! But Jin had said it like Mikhail could do it, and he wouldn’t have been so sure if Mikhail couldn’t do it. Closing his eyes, not quite sure how, Mikhail tried.

“Lord Mikhail?”

Mikhail’s eyes opened to the sight of Haze standing next to Jin. Happy warmth bubbled through Mikhail. Haze was here with Jin. Mikhail’s Blades were here with him. The only thing that could make this better would be if… if… Two people were here. Who were those two people? They felt so important.

“Lord Mikhail!”

Haze’s arms wrapped around Mikhail in a hug. Leaning against Haze, Mikhail smiled. Jin was here and Haze was here. The memories would come back. Even if they didn’t, Mikhail knew his Blades would remember.

Haze’s gentle smile firmed into a demanding frown. Eyes flashing with leashed frustrations, Haze turned on Jin. “I believe we are all owed explanations immediately.”

“Indol has been experimenting with combining Core Crystals and human bodies,” Jin stated bluntly.

Mikhail sucked in a stunned breath. There was a memory, just on the edge of his recollection. A memory of a man with pale blue skin looking down at Mikhail. The man had been holding a glowing blue stone. Then there had been –

You don’t need that memory, Jin’s voice pressed inside Mikhail’s mind.

Swallowing down bile, Mikhail agreed. It was enough to remember what had come after had been pain.

Jin’s voice was chill, yet soothing: “What they wanted was for a human to have all of the power of a Blade: Ether control, near perfect immortality, the inability to die from old age. They played Architect with things they had no understanding of.”

"Is that why I can't remember anything?" Mikhail asked.

"Partially, yes," Jin confirmed. "Your body is rejecting the Core Crystal. The Core Crystal is resisting its altered configuration."

"Lord Mikhail's body is at war with itself," Haze realized.

"War has casualties," Mikhail remembered. There were other memories tied to those words. Memories of blood and – Mikhail shuddered. That was another memory he didn't really need to remember.

"Is there a way to," Haze floundered, looking for words, "to sue for peace?"

"There is."

Mikhail knew that look. Right now he couldn't remember it, but Mikhail knew it. Aloud, Mikhail said, "It's going to cost."

Jin nodded. "You won't be human."

"But he'll still be our Lord Mikhail, will he not?" Haze demanded.

Jin nodded, a wordless affirmative.

Mikhail swallowed what fear he could. "Then I guess that's alright. I mean, so long as I'm still... you know. Me."

"You will be," Jin swore. Mikhail's first Blade's expression frosted into icy determination. "Hold tight to us."

Mikhail did as bid.

And then the world seemed to catch on fire.

Done.

The knowledge sank into Jin's bones with led weights. He wanted to scream. To tear back to Indol and rip their lies down a brick at a time. To ascend the World Tree and give the Architect a bone breaking punch to the face. The world had past being not fair and dove into abject cruelty.

Malos's hand gripped Jin's.

Breathing out his fury, Jin focused himself on the here and now. No words needed to be said for Jin to hear his baby brother's question.

"Dumped all genetic data and replaced it with Mik's. Slowed down the integration establishment speed to human norms. His Core Crystal won't lock him into homeostasis until he hits maturity."

"Physical or emotional?" Malos asked.

"Physical," Jin confirmed. A tired smile tugged at his lips. "I think everyone would kill me if Mik' got stuck as a teenager for the second closest thing to eternity."

Malos's smile was shaky with too many emotions. "Yeah." His voice cracked. "And you?"

Jin breathed in slowly. Knowing about Mikhail was second nature. Knowing himself as intimately was... disconcerting. "I'll be alright."

Malos gave him a flat look on par with Mythra's you are shitting me expression.

"Integration of Trinary Core Crystal data at eighty five percent. Physical integration forty percent. Likewise, my own Core Crystal is at fifty percent, with zero estimated physical integration. Now." Haze folded her hands over her lap so as to keep them from shaking. "Will one of you please explain what I just said?"

"Haze?" Lora asked, tentatively moving to sit next to and wrap an arm around Haze.

"No, I am not alright," Haze stated bluntly. "I am confused. I am scared. I should be a great deal more worried about Lord Mikhail than I am. I want answers."

"Erk," concurred Mythra. The blond Blade pointed in the general direction of Haze's Core Crystal.

Haze's darkening Core Crystal. Inside a few hours, it would be a lighter cloudy shade of purple than Malos's translucent Core Crystal.

Just like mine already is, Jin knew.

Malos blinked. Looked from Haze's Core to Jin. Blinked again, and reached forward to brush Jin's hair out of the way.

"Oh my," Lora summed up succinctly.

Eyes widening, Malos opened his mouth to say something.

"So..." Mythra drew out the two letters, cutting off whatever Malos might have said. "That's... a thing. Now. That's a thing. Master Blade Eater. Right. And you," she pointed at Jin, "and you," pointed at Haze, "and probably Mik'... are Master Blade Eaters."

Jin hummed affirmative. He probably had tampered more significantly with Mikhail's Core Crystal than he first realized.

Mythra sat down so as to put her head against her knees. "Father I wish I could get drunk right now."

Lora tentatively raised her hand. "Do I count as a Blade Eater as well?"

Jin snapped to look at Lora. More specifically at the x-shaped too clear crystal sliding through her armor as though it were a Core. The purple crystal.

"Technically," Malos supposed, a shocked snort of laughter held in check.

Silence equal parts shock, horror, and exhaustion echoed in the hanger.

Jin broke it with a sigh. "We should get Mikhail to bed."

"And some cloths," Haze agreed.

Their family decamped, and got to work.

Chapter Text

Addam knew of a nice spot in the middle of the Leftherian Archipelago where no one would think to look for strays. With the Monoceros's capabilities, they arrived at the tiny island Titan within a week. They could have gotten there sooner, but had taken a circuitous route in an effort to avoid Indoline tails.  Mikhail regained consciousness two days before they docked. And he had a serious case of cabin fever within two hours of waking up. Not that anyone could blame him: Mikhail may not have consciously remembered what had happened to him, but his body certainly did. The boy was restless and would remain so until his body stabilized.

To no one's surprise, Mikhail took off to explore the second his feet hit sand. Jin had followed Mikhail's lead, keeping a close eye on his Driver. Haze, forearmed with a picnic basket, had gone after both of them at an easy pace.

"Not going to see those three for a good few hours," Addam prognosticated, absently rubbing at the Core Crystal on his chest.

"No bet," Minoth joked.

"Ah!" Mythra stretched, enjoying the sun. "You never realize how much you miss daylight until you can't get any."

"Should we take a break before getting down to brass tacks?" Lora inquired.

"Rather get this done with, then go join Mik'," Malos opined.

"I think we've got shovels and buckets for sandcastles," Mythra mused.

"This first it is." Addam pulled a list from his hip pouch. "Minoth and I went through the provisions in the main hold. Jin was kind enough to go through the freezer for us. We've at least two weeks of fresh provisions, and enough hardpacked meals to last months."

"The Monoceros also has some salvage gear stashed," Minoth reported. "No crane, more's the pity. Enough cylinders to get some good hours under the Clouds. With some training and luck, we could make a decent living."

"Laying low as salvagers sounds like a plan," Lora concurred. "How long should we stay out of sight?"

"That is the question, now isn't it," Addam hummed. "On the one hand, I have a duty to those who survived Torna's destruction and Amalthus's madness. On the other, Angelia and I left them thinking I'm dead which is itself a kind of protection. They won't go looking for me. Amalthus will absolutely not go looking given he," Addam hesitated, "killed me. Architect. That's harder to say then it should be."

"Not really," Lora quietly corrected.

Addam gave the girl an understanding confederate smile.

Minoth suggested, "Keep you and Mythra out of sight for ten years, minimum. The world should forget enough by then. The rest of us either weren't important enough to note, or know how to hide in plain sight. We can handle the grunt work; you handle support."

"I do rather prefer grunt work," Addam sighed. "Can we compromise with five? In ten, I won't be as sharp or as handsome as I am now."

Malos shot a look to Mythra; tapped his half of his Core Crystal. Mythra bit her lip; gave a jerky nod agreeing.

"That was a Wise One talk if I ever saw one," Addam quipped.

Lora concurred. "Just spit it out, please. Both of you. I think we're past the point keeping secrets is healthy."

Mythra looked at Malos. Malos returned the look with a flick of his eyes towards Addam and Lora. Mythra crossed her arms and pouted. Malos countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine," Mythra sighed. "Anybody got a normal knife on them?"

Minoth produced one and handed it over to Mythra handle first. "I take it this whatever it is requires a demonstration?" Minoth mused.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Mythra pealed off her left glove/gauntlet. Faster than anyone else could process, Mythra slashed the naked blade against the back of her left hand. The slice was clean, the blade itself fine enough to draw blood in an instant.

But it was Addam who yelped.

Addam held his left hand out gingerly. Clear as a white bead in a trey of black, a clean cut was slashed across the back of Addam's hand. Mythra held her left hand next to Addam's.

"It's identical...!" Lora hissed, eyes bouncing from Mythra's hand to Addam's and back.

"It'll heal at identical rates, too," Malos noted, crossing his arms.

"There's a price to splitting our Core Crystal. It's part of why it's on the never do it list of unofficial rules." Mythra gingerly slipped back on her glove.

"The two halves swap information constantly. What physical information one half has gets transferred to the other half and vice verse. I take a hit, Lora's going to feel it, bruises and all." Malos took a deep breath before admitting, "And if Lora takes a hit, I'll feel it. Right down to if she dies."

"Yep," Mythra confirmed. "Our lives are literally entangled. If our life ends, our Driver's life end. And if our Driver's life ends, so do ours. Permanently."

Addam's jaw began to hang open. Lora's lips were pressed into a fine concerned line.

Mythra rolled over whatever they were going to say: "But hey. Upside is your lives are as long as ours. The halves of our Core Crystals will keep your bodies functioning in homeostasis just like a Blade's. So. Five years or five hundred, doesn't matter. As long as you have half of my Core Crystal, Addam, you're almost as immortal as a Blade."

"Works the same for you, Lora," Malos confirmed.

"And what about you both?" Lora demanded.

"Same perks and same cons as you both. And don't either of you dare apologize or try to force us to take it back," Malos snarled. "Neither of you forced our hands. We gave you half our lives willingly, with full understanding of the consequences."

Deal with it, their fierce, frightened glares commanded.

Addam shut his gaping mouth. Opened it to try and say something. All that came out was a mute, "goodness."

Lora walked over to Malos and hugged him.

Minoth took two steadying, deliberate breaths before speaking. "This is exactly the kind of shit we need to know about now. Stumbling into this in a fight? Could have lost you all. We tell Mik', Jin, and Haze immediately on their return." Minoth eyed both First Forged Blades. "Anything else you need to say, say it now."

"That's it," Mythra confirmed.

Malos nodded confirmation as well, holding his sister tight.

Minoth ran his hand through his hair. "Alright then. Looks like the current plan is intel and reconnaissance. Both First Forged Blades and their Drivers will be on vanguard support. Is that clear?"

"That's rather," Addam began.

"Is that clear?" Minoth repeated.

"Clear, Minoth," Lora affirmed. She gave Malos a slight squeeze. "We're going to have to rework a lot of our fighting style, Malos, and don't you dare pretend we won't."

Malos kept his mouth shut.

Minoth kept up his glare at Addam. The former prince let out an explosive sigh. "I yield! I yield. Under protest, I yield."

Minoth nodded, accepting it as good enough for now. Deliberately, he asked, "What other supplies are we going to need in the short term?"

With a will, they returned to the task of getting their lives semi-back in order.

Haze ran her fingers through Mikhail’s hair. The child murmured, content in dreams, and nuzzled into Haze’s touch. Smiling softly, Haze tugged the light blanket tight around Mikhail’s shoulders. Mikhail had run himself ragged racing near nonstop for three hours across the small island Titan. Every detail of every little thing had been so fascinating to him. It was, almost, as if her Driver were seeing the world for the first time.

It took Haze a long minute to voice her thought aloud.

Jin sighed, “In a way, he is. Between how Amalthus attempted to activate the Core Crystal and the resulting fever, parts of Mikhail are… gone.”

“His missing memories,” Haze knew.

Jin let out his frustrations and concerns in a long, steady breath which left frost dancing in the air.

“Have you noticed?” At Jin’s inquiring hum, Haze noted, “He’s been drawing in ether.”

“Yes,” Jin’s smile was a wane and worried thing, “he has. He needs it, now. Just like we do.”

“Just like a Blade does, you mean,” Haze clarified.

“Part of him is a Blade.”

They sat for a time in silence.

“When will you inform him of your new abilities?” Haze gave Jin a patient smile when the ice Blade shot her a confused look. “The way the ether flows around you has significantly altered, Jin. Please don’t try to pretend it hasn’t.”

Jin sighed. “I know it has, but...”

Haze waited, patient as a spring day.

“But I don’t know how it has changed. How I have changed.” Jin stared down at his hand. “I feel like… like there’s something growing inside me. Its not ready. I am not ready.” His eyes drifted back to Mikhail. “There’s no need to worry him. Mik’s going to have enough to worry about without adding my troubles to the pile.”

“Your troubles are Lord Mikhail’s troubles, Jin. Please don’t forget that.”

Jin offered Haze a small smile. “I’ll try.”

Nodding, Haze allowed the silence to hold them.

Eighteen weeks to the day, a sealed envelope made its way into the hands of Angelia, last Lady of Aletta. Inside was a single common wildflower of Gormotti origin. It had been dried exquisitely such that it still looked as pristine as the day it had been plucked.

Angelia set it within a framed viewing box on her hearth.

In the twilight of her life, when asked by her grandchildren’s grandchildren why she kept such an odd thing, Angelia would smile. And say, “It is proof ghosts watch over us.”

Whatever the true meaning, it went to the grave with Angelia.

There was a quiet knocking at his door.

Rising from meditation, Jin hesitated. The world flickered in front of his eyes in time with a pull of other strength. The feeling of something growing inside him had been getting stronger over the months since Mikhail had woken up. On the one hand, Jin did not mind. Not really. Mikhail was alive and if not completely well, he would be soon. Haze, Malos, and Lora were all alive and well. Jin would have given more than his existence to insure his family lived. On the other hand, Jin admitted with frank honesty, I’m scared.

There was no telling what Jin was going to become.

Steady for the moment, Jin headed for the door. It wasn’t hard to guess who was calling: The bond between himself and Mikhail prickled with nervous fear. The question was why. It was barely two in the morning. Minoth and Malos had the night watch; everyone else should have been asleep.

Opening the door, Jin found Mikhail in tears.

Snatching Mikhail into his arms, Jin asked his little brother, “What’s wrong?”

“It itches,” Mikhail sniffled.

“What does?”

“E-Everything!”

Absently shutting the door behind him, Jin carried Mikhail to bed. “Breathe, Mikhail. Everything will be alright.”

Mikhail took a gasping breath as Jin set him down on the bed. Fat teardrops rolled down his cheeks. Kneeling down to be even with Mikhail’s height, Jin brushed the tears away. It took Mikhail a good ten minutes to calm himself enough to report, “Everything itches, J-Jin…!”

“Where does it itch the most?”

Unsurprisingly, Mikhail rubbed at the top of his breastbone. Jin moved to unbutton Mikhail’s night shirt; hesitated a moment, and looked a question to Mikhail. Mikhail nodded his permission, sniffling back a sob. Jin eased Mikahil’s nightshirt so that he had a clear view of Mikhail’s chest.

Jin was torn between being amazed and being relieved that all Mikhail was feeling was itchy. There was a distinct lump on Mikhail’s breastbone. The skin around that lump had become inflamed. Carefully, Jin brushed his fingers around the very edges of the lump. The lump felt solid, like a stone –

The fact Jin could feel ether building up inside the lump made Jin sigh with relief. It wasn’t a mutation or something more horrific happening to Mikhail. Rather, it was the opposite of worrisome.

“Its your Core Crystal,” Jin told his frightened Driver.

Mikhail stuttered around sniffles, “M-My C-Core C-Crystal…?

Jin rested his hand against Mikhail’s cheek. “Its alright to be frightened. It won’t hurt you.”

“W-Why’s it itch?”

“Its in the final stage of acclimating itself to your body. Its waking up the part of you that’s a Blade, in other words.” Jin smiled gently, brushing his hand through Mikhail’s hair. “The itching will settle soon. I promise.”

Mikhail tried to swallow tears. “I’m s-still me, r-right? Even if… Even if…!”

“I swear it, Mikhail. You are still yourself, even with a Core Crystal.” Jin brushed his fingers through Mikhail’s hair again. “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Mikhail nodded an immediate affirmative.

Jin gave his little brother a fond pat. “Rest your head. Close your eyes. I’m here.”

Mikhail laid down slowly, sniffling back tears as he moved. Jin held his little brother’s hand as Mikhail sluggishly closed his eyes. His small hand gripped Jin’s tight as an iron vice. Slowly, gradually, Mikhail’s tight grip relaxed. The frightened tenseness in Mikhail’s body drained from him, and his features went limp with sleep.

Sighing, Jin ran his fingers once more through Mikhail's hair. Mikhail had already been through too much. Jin had hoped –

A faint gasp rose from Mikhail; his hands tightened and relaxed repeatedly as if they were trying to grip something intangible. Jin felt ether flair through Mikhail’s grip. No. Through Mikhail’s whole body. Mikhail winced as another flair of ether burned through him. Light crackled through his nightshirt. Working on a hunch, Jin pulled Mikhail’s nightshirt so that his chest was bare. The light brightened in time with another flair of ether, this one strong enough Mikhail jerked. The light brightened once again.

Purple, Jin recognized the color.

The light dimmed but did not fade completely. Blinking the spots from his eyes, Jin found the source of the glow to be – right where he’d expected it. Mikhail’s Core Crystal had a bit more deep blue to its purple hue than Jin’s or Haze’s own Crystal, reflecting its not quite Master Blade Eater nature. Its faint glow brightened and dimmed in time with Mikhail’s sleep heavy breathing.

Jin caught himself smiling softly. Given how much Mikhail liked to dance (though he would never admit it) his Core Crystal being shaped like a fan was fitting. It was a reflection of his self.

My little brother is going to be okay, Jin knew. The relief was a heady thing. As Mikhail sighed in his now easy sleep, Jin reached forward –

My hand…?

For a moment when Jin’s hand had crossed through the light of Mikhail’s Core Crystal, it had looked as though his hand had turned black. Had it been an illusion caused by the dim lights?

Not an illusion… Jin flexed his hands into fists, then relaxed them. Smiling to himself, Jin realized, My life is truly tied to Mikhail’s, more so than before. As he was ready, I think, so too, now am I. But not here.

Jin could feel it within the chill building in his bones. To let loose here what he had become risked damaging the Monoceros in general and his family in specific. What he needed was significant space and no risk to any living thing that wasn’t a monster. There was only one place Jin knew offhand which matched those criteria. Closing his eyes, Jin focused within himself.

“Malos.”

An impression of surprise flickered within Jin’s Core Crystal. The ether rippled faintly as Malos used his power to teleport in.

Jin put his index finger to Malos’s lips in the same breath Malos appeared. Malos’s eyes bugged, going cross as he tried to stare at Jin’s hand. Jin tipped his head towards Mikhail. Malos gave a silent whistle, taking in the subtle changes to the ether flow around Mikhail. And the not so subtle change of his Core Crystal’s light.

Outside? Malos mouthed. Jin withdrew his hand and nodded in agreement.

Once the door to Jin’s room was shut, Malos asked, “You need me to check Mik’s Core Crystal?” Malos blinked and added, “That is still a weird thing to say.”

“It doesn’t feel like it is. Not now that he’s awakened as a Blade Eater, I mean,” Jin hummed. Shaking his head, Jin got back on topic. “There’s something I want – no. There’s something I need to do. In Temperantia.”

“Temperantia, huh?” Malos rested his hand on his cocked hip, a posture meant to distract from his concern. “Something left over from Judicium? Or…?”

“I need the room,” Jin admitted, allowing himself a nervous grin. “The fraction of your Core Crystal you gave me. I suppose,” Jin held out his hand, palm up as if to hold out an item, “I suppose you could call it the ground. The ground needed to sprout a seed within me.”

“A seed within you?” Malos echoed, eyeing Jin with all due wariness.

“Yes. And now that seed,” just a little nudge to the ether within him, “is ready to bloom.”

Malos’s eyebrows bounced up. Reaching forward, he cautiously scooped the rudimentary ice sculpture of a blooming flower from Jin’s hand. “This is...” Malos began to say. Words failed him midway, leaving Malos mute save for a quite, worried, “Big brother?”

“Please, Malos. Take me to Temperantia. Take us all to Temperantia,” Jin requested.

Malos rolled the small ice bloom around the palm of his hand. After a moment, Malos nodded to himself, and returned the bloom to Jin. He kept his hand cupped over Jin’s. “You’re in luck. We’re not too far from there as it is. I’ll get with Minoth. Get us on course to be there first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Malos.”

Malos held Jin’s hand for another moment. Then he turned on one heel and poof-ed away, back to the bridge most likely.

Jin held the flower for a moment before letting it shatter into diamond dust. Mikhail was going to enjoy the show tomorrow. And if Jin were being honest with himself, so was he.

“Try not to fiddle with it too much, okay, Mikhail?” Lora requested.

Mikhail nodded, taking his hand away from his Core Crystal. “Is it weird?” At Lora’s blink, Mikhail clarified his question, “Is it weird how it doesn’t feel weird?”

Smiling, Lora rested her right hand over her own Core Crystal; the half Malos had given her. “I know what you mean. Barely any time after I had this, it felt like it had already been forever.”

“It is an extension of your self, Lora. It would be concerning if it did not feel like a part of you,” Haze chimed in. The siblings turned to face her as Haze joined them in the main hanger.

“And Jin… Jin fixed mine. Right?” Mikhail recalled.

Haze smiled, shifting a picnic basket from one arm to the other. “Indeed, Lord Mikhail. Jin purified that within the Core Crystal which Amalthus had perverted. In doing so, he made it into a reflection and extension of your soul. It just took a bit of time for it all to settle into its proper place both within and without you.”

“I dunno, Haze. Six months is a fair time longer than, a bit,” Minoth quipped as he too joined them.

“If one counts the hours as mortals do, yes, I suppose so,” Haze concurred. “I fear Amalthus’s machinations have robbed us of that immediate luxury. Based on what information we have been able to gather thus far, it seems they will continue to do so for some time to come.”

“Che,” Minoth cursed in reluctant agreement with Haze’s assessment. “It bugs me how we can’t really do anything. Amalthus has the whole damn world too terrified to act.”

“Given those poor souls he’s twisted, I really can’t blame them for being petrified,” Lora confessed. She gave Minoth a tentative smile, noting, “It really bugs me, too.”

Addam’s yawning entry cut further bleak discussion in the quick. “Good morning, all!”

“Who’s idea was it to get together at the crack of dawn?” Mythra groggily demanded, following a half asleep step behind Addam.

“Malos, I think,” Minoth reported. “He’s the one who said we needed to head for Temperentia.”

“Temperentia?” Mythra shook herself slightly more awake. “But there’s nothing in Temperentia!”

“Which is why we’re here.”

Various questioning eyes turned towards Malos’s voice. They found Malos and Jin entering almost at the same time. Malos himself affected to ignore their curiosity, more or less, making a straight shot to the hold's door control mechanism. Jin hesitated for a bare moment, then walked with quick but seemingly unhurried steps over to Mikhail.

Jin knelt to be even with Mikhail’s height. Giving his little brother’s hair a gentle ruffle, Jin asked, “Did you have a good breakfast? You feel alright?”

Mikhail nodded affirmative, adding a chipper, “I don’t feel any different today than I did before.”

“Good,” Jin smiled. At Mikhail’s frown, Jin’s smile grew shy. “You feel it.”

“Your ether flow…?” Mikhail wondered. He reached up to rest his hand against Jin’s cheek. Gentle as ever, Jin cupped his hand around Mikhail’s.

“You remember how I said the ability I used to mend what Amalthus had broke, how it came from Malos?” Jin inquired.

“Malos let you eat a bit of his Core Crystal,” Mikhail recalled.

Jin nodded. “Just like it took your Core Crystal and body time to adjust, it took my Core Crystal and body time to adjust as well. It brought something new within me. Something that, just like your Core Crystal, is beginning to wake. Its not a danger,” Jin promised, giving Mikhail’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Its different, and thus frightening. So. I asked Malos to take us to Temperentia. Here, there’s room enough to let it wake without risking anyone or anything.”

“Should we – I don’t know,” Addam hesitated, “man the bunkers?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jin chuckled. “Though, if Mythra and Malos would both agree to a spar?”

“Both of us. At the same time.” Mythra put her hands on her hips when Jin’s smile upgraded to a smirk. “You must be pretty confident in whatever this new ability is.”

“I am. Because, in part, it comes from Mikhail as well.” Jin kept hold of Mikhail’s hand as he stood.

The hanger door crunched into the rocky topsoil of Temperentia. Humid air rushed into the hanger, displacing the artificial neutrality of the ship’s recycled atmosphere. Various assorted monsters could be seen dotting the landscape. The smarter ones had cleared out the moment the Monocerous had come above the Cloud Sea.

Mikhail walked with Jin to the hanger door. The rest of them followed behind. At some unspoken signal, everyone save Mikhail and Jin stopped at the top of the ramp, just within the Monoceros itself. When they reached midway down the ramp, Jin squeezed Mikhail’s hand in gentle reassurance, cuing the boy to stop. Jin gave his Driver a smile – and then stepped ahead, without Mikhail at his side. Jin continued on alone for ten paces beyond where the ramp bit into Temperentia’s soil. Turning back to face Mikhail, Jin smiled.

Mikhail felt it a heartbeat before it happened. He felt ice wrap around him in a comforting cocoon. But the him was not Mikahil. It was Jin. It was Jin who was wrapped in an icy fog. It was Jin who was standing at the heart of a miniature blizzard whipped up by a spike in ether. Within the blizzard, Jin… changed. And Mikhail felt that change settle over him, like feeling a shawl being draped over his shoulders. A feeling of newness; of looking at dawn for the first time.

Jin took a steadying breath. The ether around him was still thick enough to be a visible shimmer in the air. But it was a leashed shimmer; contained to Jin’s immediate surroundings. That it was contained was a good thing considering said surroundings looked like something out of a fantasy book: White fluff of frozen ice easily a pede deep surrounded Jin in an almost perfect circle twenty paces in diameter. Jin’s armor was just as changed as the area around him. Dense black armor accented in icy green ether lines covered him from booted feet to armored shoulder, save for his bare chest and back. A choker necklace the same black as the armor wrapped around his neck. The coattails of his armor had been replaced with a paired set of… wings? At his tailbone? They looked almost insect-like both in their shapes and in how the light reflected off them. Maybe it was closer to say they were like small wings of a dragon with iridescent silver/black scales.

Mikhail thought, That looks amazing!

Jin smiled. Opening his eyes, he looked at Mikhail. Mikhail could have sworn he heard Jin say, “This is the barest tip.”

“Oh. Yay. Jin’s an ice maker now,” Mythra quipped.

Jin flicked his right hand out to his side. The ether condensed at his will, forming his weapon. Taking first stance was request enough.

I hope he remembers about – Mikhail began to think.

“I do,” Jin’s voice said, almost but not quite right in Mikhail’s ear. “I’ll keep it to bruises and cuts. No stabs or potential killing blows.”

Mythra sighed. “Well,” she ignited her blade as she sashayed past Mikhail, “you asked for it.”

Mythra used her own variant of teleportation to vanish into light. A flicker of light announced her presence behind and above Jin. Mythra pointed her sword at Jin so as to launch off a burst of light. But in the same instant it took the burst to launch, Jin was already gone. Gone – and above Mythra.

“Too slow,” Jin warned.

Mythra had enough of a second to turn and block Jin’s sword. Gasping, “What the hell!” Mythra teleported again. And again, Jin was a split second behind Mythra in appearing.

“Is he…?” Haze started to gasp.

“Faster than light!” Mikhail crowed, bouncing in awed glee. Jin was moving faster than light!

“He’s breaking physics!” Addam laughingly gasped.

“If he’s faster than light,” Lora paused to take in the spectacle that was Jin matching Mythra step for teleport, “does that mean he’s faster than dark?”

Malos cackled, “Let’s find out!”

It turned out Jin was indeed faster than dark (so to speak). He could also create ice at absolute zero temperatures. Absolute zero ice, as it turned out, was very solid and incredibly unforgiving, as Malos learned the hard way.

Back against said ice wall Malos slid down to take a seat in the dirt. He was chuckling as he moved, absently rubbing at where his face had met ice at high velocity. The chuckles grew into a deep amazed laugh. Shaking his head though likewise chuckling around pants for breath, his altered armor shattering in favor of his familiar white, Jin took a seat next to Malos. Mythra dropped where she stood to flop unceremoniously to her back.

“That was,” Malos shook his finger at Jin, “that was…!”

“Titan’s foot,” Mythra concurred, visibly exhausted.

Squeeing, “That was amazing!” Mikhail barreled into Jin’s midsection at high velocity. Forewarned by his little brother’s laughter, Jin had been ready for him. Mikhail’s bright grin and sparkling eyes lit the world in golden hues.

Smiling, Jin ruffled Mikhail’s hair. It wasn’t just Mikhail’s smile turning the world bright.

“Aw, come on, Mik’. Channeling ether to Jin ‘s not fair,” Malos jovially complained.

Mikhail stuck his tongue out at Malos. “He needs it.” Mikhail's eyes gained an edge of worry. “Right?”

“I did expend a significant amount,” Jin hedged. Channeling ether being an instinctive action for his Driver was proof Mikhail was as he should be, now. There would still be some changing and growing, of course; Mikhail would not be stuck as child forever. But for now, Jin could set aside his worries for his little brother.

“Its good weather for picnicking in the snow,” Lora mused, coming to sit next to Malos at a controlled pace compared to Mikhail’s hyperactive haste.

“I second Mikhail’s opinion. That was absolutely amazing, all of you!” Addam laughed boisterously. The lost prince took in the landscape altered by ice-, light-, and dark-element ether. “Doing this in Temperentia was the right call. Anyone who comes out here is going to think the monsters got into a row.”

“Sorry to be a pessimist, but,” Minoth started to say. The rest of his sentence was cut off by a hacking cough.

“Oh no.” Mythra did not spring to her feet, but only because she was still worn out from the fight. “No. Minoth. You are not going to try and pass that off as allergies or some such crap.”

Waving away the concern and the cough, Minoth began to say, “I’m –”

Haze shoved Minoth towards Mythra. “You are not fine. Your ether flow is off, and its been getting worse as of late. You are going to sit,” Haze emphasized, “sit,” with a push to Minoth’s shoulders, “down and let Mythra look over your Core Crystal in detail.”

Minoth opened his mouth to protest.

“Ah-ha!”

Shutting his mouth with a yelped, “My Prince!”, Minoth found himself kneeling down in an effort to dodge Addam’s further grabs, pokes, or pulls.

Addam held his prize between his thumb and forefinger. It was a… strand of hair? “You can’t honestly tell me going gray is normal for a Blade, Minoth.”

“Its all the stress of having to deal with your lot’s crazy plans,” Minoth joked.

Jin added his narrowing eyes to the group stare at Minoth.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Minoth gave in and took a seat next to Mythra. “Its because I’m a Flesh Eater. Rather, because of that, and because I’m a failed experiment. Far as I can tell, its my lot to end up a grizzled old man, hunched over with a bad back, and a head full of gray hairs just like that one. Or in short: If Amalthus doesn’t do me in on the battlefield, old age will.”

“Everybody dies of old age eventually. Hell, even First Forged Blades,” Malos snorted.

“Its true,” Mythra confirmed. “Our lifespans may seem eternal compared to humans, or even compared to Blade’s or Titan’s. But, eventually, a long time from now, old age will do us in.” Mythra reached an arm around Minoth’s shoulders so as to drag him closer. “Even so. What you’re describing is not Blade normal.”

“Flesh Eater,” Minoth reiterated.

“That’s not quite true,” Mythra countered. Her Core Crystal and the decorative gem on her headband both brightened. “No,” Mythra murmured, leaning closer, “that’s not quite true at all.”

Mythra’s hand touched Minoth’s Core Crystal. Minoth gasped, hunching forward, right hand jerking towards Mythra’s hand as if to yank her away. Eyes wide and staring at nothing, Minoth struggled to breathe.

“Addam?” Mythra asked.

“Without hesitation,” Addam answered.

“I am done with Amalthus screwing with my family,” Mythra declared. Her tone gentled as she instructed Minoth to, “Just breathe, alright? Addam and I have got you.”

Light grew slowly and steadily in Minoth’s Core Crystal. Closing his eyes, Jin smiled, listening to how the ether flow around Minoth was beginning to shift. As the light from Minoth’s Core brightened, the shift strengthened. Jin could hear the caution as Mythra worked. She nudged the ether with gentle, unyielding hands. She split the threads of the ether link and of Minoth’s Core one strand at a time and wove them into a changed tapestry with careful haste. As Mythra worked, Minoth’s breathing slowed. The rough hitch eased into normal breaths. Mythra tied the last shifts into place.

Minoth’s ether frequency sang a blissfully content tune.

Awe thickened Minoth’s voice: “What did you…?”

“Cut your resonance to Amalthus,” Mythra replied as though it were no monumental feat.

Jin did not have to be looking to know Minoth’s jaw was dropped.

“Its not like I did you that big a favor. Your new resonance is with this airhead after all,” Mythra scoffed, thumb jerking towards Addam.

“Thank you,” Minoth breathed.

Catching the changed notes which meant Mythra had done more than simply resonate Minoth to Addam’s frequency, Jin stifled a smile. The next few weeks would prove to hold intriguing consequences.

For all of them.

Chapter Text

Sitting up in his bunk, Minoth pinched the bridge of his nose. What kind of a dream was that…?

Much of the dream eluded him. What he could remember made Minoth want to write. There had been green – so much green! A river clear and blue as a master glass-smith's handmade wine glass. A single tree had dominated a hill overlooking all of the green and blue. It had been so… peaceful. No. Not peaceful. Restful. Standing in all the green had reminded Minoth it had been near three weeks since they had been on land.

Minoth leaned back to rest his head against the bulkhead wall.

There’s an irony in a darkness element Blade wanting to see the sun, Minoth mused.

Well. Given how he felt, Minoth knew he wasn’t getting back to sleep any time soon. He might as well get up and get started the day’s tasks. Stretching as he rose from bed, Minoth headed to the room’s pittance of a bathroom.

I need more dreams like that. Feel like I could give Haze an actual fight. Minoth snorted at the thought, Maybe even Malos or Mythra!

It was a ridiculous idea. Him. A madman’s failed experiment. Take on a Master Blade? Ha!

Still... Ever since Mythra had used her powers as an Architect’s First Forged Blade to sever his connection to Amalthus, Minoth had been feeling better. Hell – he’d lost aches in his bones that had been there for over a century! Being in resonance with Addam had been improving his emotional and mental well-being, too. Minoth could not deny that.

Minoth splashed cold water on his face to help reality knock loose the crazy which had taken root. Fumbling for a moment, he grabbed the hand towel. Dried his face and looked at himself in the mirror.

The towel fell from numb fingers.

This could not be real. This could not be happening. It just – it couldn’t!

Minoth brought a shaking hand to his Core Crystal. To his… changed… Core Crystal. Gone was the red tainted blue he had become used to over the decades. In its place was green. A hazy emerald green which reminded Minoth of an ancient Tornan tree’s leaves in summer sun. When his fingers confirmed the reality in the mirror, Minoth had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling in shock.

“Oh damn,” Minoth breathed.

Something must have gone wrong. When Mythra --

Mythra. Minoth had to get to Mythra.

Get dressed. Make sure you have your weapons. You old fool – you know panic kills!

Panicking was so very, very tempting.

Get to Mythra. Just – get to Mythra. She can fix this. She can –

Minoth leaned hard against the hallway bulkhead.

I know where she is.

As well say Minoth knew where his arm was. The knowledge of where’s Mythra in relationship to himself was a thing known down to the last centimeter. He could close his eyes and walk blind right to her. Or to Addam. Or Malos. Or Mikhail, Lora, Jin, or Haze. Minoth knew where they were as instinctively as he could form his weapons’ crystal.

What’s happening to me?

Minoth forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.

Do not panic. Just get to Mythra. Just…

"Well hey there sleepy head," Mythra chuckled as though there were nothing wrong. As though the world hadn't tipped off axis by ninety degrees. "I was starting to wonder if we'd need to get you up. Breakfast is all set. We should figure out where it'd be safe to dock for a couple of days so we can resupply. We're down to plain porridge. If we run out of sweetener, we're all gonna be –"

"Green," Minoth interrupted. Panicking was bad, yes, but he couldn't stop the frightened crack in his voice.

Mythra's warm smile gave the building panic something else to work with: The first twitches of suspicion. Her next words froze panic outright: "You finally noticed, huh?"

"My Core Crystal is emerald green," Minoth enunciated.

"Green 's a good color on you," Mythra noted with a minx smile.

"Mythra--!" Minoth growled. Fear and panic both were flipping towards anger, tightening his hands into fists. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Mythra's smile wobbled. "The only thing I could do. Your Core Crystal was breaking down. So I... patched it. With a little bit of mine."

The anger sizzled out. Awe crept in.

"How do you feel, Minoth?" Mythra asked gently.

It took Minoth a moment to remember how words worked.

"I feel normal."

...Architect. I feel normal.

Mythra caught him before Minoth could collapse further than to his knees. His fellow Blade let Minoth rest his head on her shoulder and ran soothing fingers through his hair. Mythra let silence soothe the shock.

Normal. Architect. It felt like centuries since Minoth had felt normal. The resonance with his Driver – his Prince! – drifted in the back of his heart like a soothing babbling brook. The feel of I am his eased into his bones, right and true. A Blade – a normal Blade...! No ache in body or spirit or Core. No dissonance. No feeling... corrupted. Failed.

Tears were falling and he couldn't give less of a damn.

"Ah, there you two are!" His Prince's voice was like hearing sunshine given sound. The sunshine clouded as he worried, "Is everything alright?"

"He just noticed," Mythra explained for him.

Addam's confusion was audible – and was felt. Minoth could feel his Prince – his Driver! – through their resonance. It was enough to make him lightheaded in giddy joy.

"Minoth.... You didn't know?" Addam inquired gently.

"Nope," Mythra answered.

Minoth felt Addam closing in. He felt his Prince kneel down next to him; felt his warm arms wrap around both himself and Mythra. "Your Core Crystal has been changing colors for weeks now. Granted, that first dot of emerald was tiny. But I thought you'd known."

"No clue," Minoth croaked around happy tears.

"My dear friend," Addam sighed, resting his head against Minoth's.

The feeling of belonging was an overwhelming euphoria.

Minoth had no idea how long they had stayed there in the hallway. Hours, minutes – didn't matter. By time they all got going again, Minoth felt rested and peppy, well able to handle whatever the world wanted to throw at them next.

The lights died.

...the world seemed to have a sense of irony.

Taking Mythra's and his Prince's hands in his, Minoth led them through the dark. The whole way to the mess hall Mythra cursed under her breath about the dark in general and the situation in specific.

"That's the second time this week!" Mythra fumed.

"Another ether cylinder, perhaps?" Addam presumed.

"Probably. Now we're never going to dig Mikhail out of engineering again," Mythra grumbled.

"Oh, he'll come out," Minoth chuckled. "Jin's cookies."

"...point," Mythra conceded.

A small but bright ether lamp had been set at their favorite table. Close enough now barked shins were the only risk, Minoth let go of their hands. His fingers may have lingered a little too long on Addam's – but, if they did, Addam made no comment.

Mikhail was bouncing in his seat in barely contained exuberance. "I can replace the cylinder! I know how! And I can see in the dark!"

"Not well enough to do it safely," Lora countered gently.

"And you've for now physical strength equal to your size, Lord Mikhail," Haze added reasonably, voice gentle as Lora's. "Please don't rush off on any extraneous excursions. For our sakes?"

It was the pout which undid Mikhail's will. Clearly not happy about it, Mikhail yielded, "All right."

The lights sputtered. After a breath, they reactivated to full brightness. A bare beat after they restarted, Malos puffed into existence right behind Lora.

"It was the cylinder," Malos confirmed.

Exiting the kitchen with a pot full of porridge and a serving spoon, Jin hummed. "We're on our last one?"

Malos took his seat with a grumpy, "Yeah."

"Good thing we were already on our way back to that dry dock," Lora noted.

"Maybe I can come up with a way to recharge ether cylinders from inside the ship," Mikhail thought out loud, adding a, "Thank you," when Jin filled his bowl with porridge.

"Damn shame Torna couldn't get the Marsanes working," Minoth sighed, taking his own seat.

Minoth's comment was met with stares.

Blinking, Minoth met their confusion with his own blank look.

"The Marsanes?" Mythra asked pointedly.

Minoth looked around their table. Everyone was looking at him, up to and including Jin. Deliberately slow, Minoth slapped his palm against his face. A deep breath to recenter himself and Minoth began.

"It was code-named Project Cronus. Its stated goal was to match the combat power of the Tornan Titan without placing the Titan itself at risk. It began a long time before Amalthus started stirring the pot. From what I could find out, Project Cronus was initiated by the king's grandfather around the midpoint of the Tornan Separatist War."

Addam gave a low whistle. "Now there was a bloody spot in Torna's history. The fighting did not escalate beyond the kingdom's boundaries, for which we can all be grateful. Historical records put it as the deadliest war in the history of Alrest." Addam sobered, noting, "Second deadliest now, I fear."

Minoth pushed aside the reminder and forged on; "Project Cronus was highly ambitious. It was supposed to be a fleet of paired ships. Three ships the same class as Monoceros as escorts to a ship as large as a Titan. A ship that could change its shape from a sea-bearing vessel to humanoid combat – thing. The descriptions of it make it sound like a Titan sized Artifice.

"Given its size, the Titan ship was supposed to be self-sufficient. It would be able to take Cloud Sea material and – make its own replacement parts. It would also be able to resupply its escorts and act as a mobile dry-dock and operations base.

"The project was too ambitious. They weren't able to get through all the technical limitations. The best they got were two prototype ships: One escort which we're in now. The Monoceros."

"Let me guess," Mythra cut it. "They built the Titan sized ship, too."

"A prototype they never got fully functional. The Marsanes," Minoth confirmed.

Mikhail's eyes were huge. Jin resumed dishing out everyone's breakfast. The rest of the group blinked dumbly at Minoth.

"They got it ninety percent functional. All the critical systems work." Minoth gave his audience a sardonic grin. "They just couldn't figure out how to power it all."

"Were they using ether cylinders like the Monoceros?" Mikhail asked.

"They tried that. The last report I managed to," Minoth paused deliberately.

"Steal?" Mythra supplied.

"Catch a glance at," Minoth corrected with a grin, "said they had figured out how to get some of the necessary energy from the Cloud Sea itself. The rest they were thinking maybe they could get from Blade Core Crystals." Minoth waited a beat. "They estimated they'd need ten thousand of them for a minimum necessary charge."

"Ten thou--?!" Haze gagged.

"That... that's..." Lora attempted to speak.

"That's more ether energy then Siren puts out in two minutes!" Mikhail squeaked.

"More ether energy then one of Siren's ether cannons puts out in a half charged shot," Malos corrected. He eyed Mikhail with a considering gaze.

"Somebody's been in Elysium when they should be sleeping," Mythra sing-songed, a smile quirking her lips.

Mikhail blushed. Mumbling some excuse too quietly under his breath to catch, their little Blade Eater tried to hide in his porridge bowl. It did not make the kid's embarrassment any better when Jin sat down next to him in a clear, We're going to talk later.

Architect in Elysium, Minoth loved his family.

"Having a mobile dry dock would be advantageous," Addam sighed.

"If it worked to spec, it could practically patch itself and the Monoceros," Minoth concurred.

Malos and Mythra were exchanging looks. Well – Mythra was looking at Malos with a raised eyebrow. Malos was absently stirring breakfast, his thoughts visibly on the other side of Alrest.

"Let's check it out."

All eyes jumped to Malos. It was Lora who asked, "Malos...?"

Mythra rested her elbow on the table and her chin on the palm of her hand. She gave Malos a clear look. Really?

Malos returned her look with a bare shrug. Couldn't hurt.

Mythra heaved a mirthful sigh. "We do need to get more ether cylinders anyway."

Minoth and Addam exchanged looks with Haze, Jin, Mikhail, and Lora. This sounded like it just got interesting.

Walking down the ramp into the dry dock, Lora fought off a shiver. They'd been here two – no, three times before. Each time the echoing metal and stone cavern felt so creepy. Like the eyes of all the dead sailors, soldiers, and engineers were watching her from the light devouring shadows. It was stupid, she knew. Malos was a darkness element Blade. Her older brother would tell her and protect her if there was actual danger in the dark. Still... Logic failed before that insistent whisper something's there!

Malos brushed his hand over Lora's shoulder as he passed her. Minoth had been first down, activating all the lights which hadn't gone live at the Monoceros's docking signal. But it was comforting for Malos to take a deliberate minute to glare the remaining shadows into submission for Lora.

Mikhail slipped his hand into Lora's. At Lora's look, Mikhail smiled and gave her hand a squeeze; a silent promise to protect her. Lora returned Mikhail's smile with her own, and squeezed his hand, too.

Lora hated think it, but... Her little brother was better now that he was a Blade Eater. There hadn't been anything wrong with him before! Her brilliant, shy little brother had been perfect as he was before. But in the weeks since Mikhail's Core Crystal had adjusted itself to his body, Mikhail had been happier. He'd gained confidence and a willingness to stand up for himself and lost much of the near debilitating shyness which had handicapped him.

Be fair. I stopped being as shy myself the first time I was able to use my Blade's weapon by myself, Lora mused. Given Mikhail was now half Blade, and thus had many of the skills which made Blades so formidable at his fingertips, the boost in confidence made sense.

"My Prince!" Minoth's voice echoed in the dock cavern. It took a second to find where Minoth had gotten to: A platform shielded by glass walls overlooking the whole cavern. When Addam waived to confirm he'd heard, Minoth asked, "Know any clearance codes?"

Addam barked a laughed, "Like you don't?"

Lora could all but hear Minoth roll his eyes. "For areas above your clearance level."

"I know one or two of my uncle's. They're years out of date, I'm afraid," Addam hummed.

Minoth sighed. "Going to have to do this the hard way..."

"Hacking?" Mikhail perked.

There was an unmistakable skrretch of Minoth's dagger going through steel.

"The hard way," Malos confirmed, wincing at the sound. He wasn't the only one. Lora had to rub feeling back into her ears.

There was a sharp steam hiss, followed by a pop like a bulb blowing out. And then –

The dock's far wall, the one which kissed the Monoceros's nose, rose up. A whole blasted mountainside's worth of rock lifted up. Up. Up higher, seeming to vanish into the ceiling. Then, after it was gone, there was nothing but silence. Silence – and a cavernous yawning pit of darkness.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Minoth's voice floated through the sudden quiet, "may I present, the Marsanes.”

The void lit up with flickering ether lights.

The sight beyond took Lora's breath away.

Running in the halls was bad. Running in the halls of an unknown ship was really bad. Running in the halls of an unknown ship the size of a Titan was really bad.

There was just so much to see and figure out and do!

"This is engineering!" Mikhail shouted with glee.

"Its a rather empty room to be engineering," Haze mused, keeping a sedate pace next to Lora. It was good Haze was staying with Lora. It meant Jin and Mikhail could run ahead without worrying.

"But this is where all the ether energy is flowing too and from," Mikhail reported, trying to convince himself as much as Haze. All the ether flowing through the giant ship wouldn't be flowing through an empty room if it wasn't engineering, right?

Jin's hand on his shoulder kept Mikhail from bolting forward. Looking up at Jin, Mikhail saw his biggest brother had closed his eyes, head cocked as if listening to something. The purple of his Core Crystal brightened – though that might have been a trick of the lights. After a beat, Jin opened his eyes.

"The ether flow is concentrated here," Jin confirmed.

Jin's confirmation bolstered Mikhail's confidence. This had to be engineering. But if it was... why was it so empty? Mikhail had to find out. Maybe there was something –

As if a switch were flipped, the walls of the huge room lit up. There was a faint glimmer as shutters shuttered. The silvery metal rolled up, and up, and showed off lots of empty wall space. There were thousands of small recesses in the wall.

...not small. They just looked small at this distance.

"Oh," Lora murmured quietly, "this is where all those Core Crystals would go."

Oh! His big sister was right! Now why the room was so big and empty made sense!

Footsteps echoed down the hallway they'd come. Mikhail could hear Addam saying, "Looks like they truly did get all gadgets and gizmos working. Its certainly loaded up on necessary equipment for the Monoceros. Ether cylinder charging stations and all!"

"Just doesn't have the juice to power everything," Minoth hummed.

Addam chuckled, "Like the engines. Ah, here's where – goodness!"

Minoth added a concurring whistle.

"You could fit a couple of Artifices in here," Mythra noted, turning to take in the engineering room.

Mikhail bit down on an exclamation of yes please! The Siren Sisters were amazing. It'd be so cool to see them up close again.

Malos eyed the wall recesses in thought. "A couple of Artifices," he hummed, "or one Aion."

Mythra did a double-take.

Malos pointed at the walls. "We could modify it. Wouldn't take much."

"Modify what?" Lora asked.

"Are you serious?" Mythra demanded.

"Aion could power a dozen Siren. Powering this place would barely dent its capabilities," Malos stated.

"Aion?" Haze blinked.

"A dozen...?!" Mikhail gaped.

"You're nuts." When all Malos did was raise an eyebrow, Mythra exclaimed, "Aion has big red warning labels all over it! Using it like a – a battery would be as crazy as suggesting Ophion block access to the World Tree!"

Malos snapped his fingers, grinning as he cackled, "Brilliant! The Gargoyles could be air defense, Ophion as Cloud Sea defense. Amalthus would never be able to get more tech with his access blocked!"

Mythra stared with her jaw hanging open. A bare, "guh?" hissed free. She worked her jaw. Pointed at Malos. Closed her eyes as if she could reset reality by blinking.

"Hey, you know it'd work," Malos smirked.

Mythra put her palm to her face to muffle assorted curses. After composing herself, she threw up her hands. "Yes it would!" Mythra snapped. "It would! Its crazy!"

"So was splitting our Core Crystals," Malos countered.

Lora put her hands on her hips. "Would the both of you please start speaking common?"

Mythra jerked her thumb towards Malos. "He's crazy."

"We already know that," Haze giggled daintily. Mikhail giggled himself when Malos pouted.

Mythra wove her hand through the air, trying to put things into order. Collected, she asked, "You know Father gave us access to Artifices, right? Siren, Ophion, Gargoyle – they're all different makes and models. All those Artifices were made for a war which destroyed the land below the Cloud Sea. Before Alrest was founded, Father gathered them all up and stored them in Elysium."

"If they were weapons, why not get rid of them?" Minoth asked.

"Get rid of Siren?" The very thought caused Mikhail to fume. "But Siren 's amazing!"

"No argument there," Minoth concurred, "but anything that can destroy a world sounds too dangerous to leave lying around."

Not liking it in the least, Mikhail yielded Minoth had a point.

Malos shrugged, "Maybe Father couldn't. Whatever the reason, Father entrusted the Artifices' controls to us Master Blades."

Mythra continued, "Gargoyles are the most numerous, and also the least adaptable. They were made to be cannon fodder. Sirens – well. Don't need to tell anyone here what Sirens are."

"Awesome!" Mikhail chirped.

Mythra rolled her eyes. Malos chuckled before resuming, "Ophion was made to handle oceanic battles on a Titan scale. And then... there's Aion. Aion never got used in the war which ended the old world."

"Which is a good thing. Father slapped a warning label of Apocalyptic on our memories of Aion for a reason. Every Siren and Gargoyle put together couldn't match Aion at full strength," Mythra concluded.

The silence hung for a beat.

Minoth eyed Malos. "And you want to use it... as a battery."

Malos gave a half nod and a shrug, a nonverbal, Beats getting a hold of ten thousand Core Crystals.

Minoth rested his face in his hand.

"I think it sounds awesome," Mikhail put his two gold in. ...and blushed a little a Jin's knowing, amused arched eyebrow look. Yes, he was interested in seeing an Artifice up close again. There were so many things about them he wanted to figure out! But that totally had nothing to do with the fact Malos's idea sounded awesome.

Addam hummed quietly; his arms crossed, eyes closed and head bowed in thought. “But,” Addam asked softly, “would such a request be fair to Aion?”

Mythra and Malos were both taken aback by the question. Haze gave a little gasp, exchanging worried, considering look with Lora. Minoth tugged his hair-tie snug to cover confusion with action. Jin gave an equally soft hum. Mikhail was going to ask what Addam meant. How could asking Aion to come down from Elysium –!

Mikhail felt tears burn his eyes. He scrubbed them away. The Marsanes was an amazing ship by mortal standards. For an Artifice of Elysium being chained down in this echoing room might equal being chained in a cave. That wouldn’t be right – that wouldn’t be fair – to Aion… or to them.

“The Artifices whom you both have called upon at need are kin to Blades, or so I have gathered. By such logic it follows if this Aion is the greatest of Artifices, above even the fair Sirens, Aion must not be far removed from a Blade. In such lights, I cannot ask Aion to remove themselves from the land which is Elysium.” Addam nodded to himself. “Having seen myself an echo of the fabled land, I for one can say I would not wish to trade in such a vista for an endless view of the Cloud Sea’s depths. Presuming, that is, it is possible to allow Aion any view from within this chamber.”

“Couldn’t we...” Lora began. She looked at the floor as she broke off mid thought. “We wouldn’t be able to bring the Marsanes up above Cloud level, would we. At least not very often and certainly not for very long.”

Aion would be stuck below the Cloud Sea for forever, Mikhail silently agreed with Lora’s guess. Stuck down below the Cloud See for a couple of weeks was hard. Mikhail wouldn’t want to wish being stuck below forever on anyone.

“The Marsanes was designed as a stealth ship.” Minoth gave a short nod in Lora’s direction. “That said, you’ve a good point, Lora. The ship’s too damn big to risk bringing it close to the surface. One ping on a salvager scanner and our story’s finne.”

Because Amalthus would find them. If he even had a suspicion they were alive, Amalthus would not stop destroying everything until they were dead.

Jin gave Mikhail’s shoulder a commanding squeeze. Mikhail could all but hear Jin swear, “Such shall never be.”

Mythra pointed out, “You’re all overthinking it. Artifices aren’t anything like Blades. They’re weapons.”

“So too are Blades, are they not,” Addam countered gently.

It took Mythra a moment to pick her jaw off the floor. Malos wasn’t fairing much better.

“Blades are not things of war, empty and meaningless. They are not tools. They are not to be used. They are certainly not slaves. Amalthus and his predecessors find this fact inconvenient and thus try to stamp it out of reality. So far, they’re doing a damn good job.” Shaking himself, Addam got back on track. “What I mean to say is this: If you and Malos are sure beyond the faintest doubt, Mythra, then I shall question no further if Artifices are akin to Blades. But given what little I have seen thus far. Given how you and Malos speak of them? I fear to think of them as tools is to invite the same mindset Amalthus seeks to make dogma.”

Silence rang loud in the empty engineering room.

Mythra took a steadying breath, thinking things through. Malos likewise closed his eyes, breathing slowly as he considered Addam’s words.

“Having the Marsanes active. Pros and cons,” Minoth called out. Part of it Mikhail guessed was to give Mythra and Malos all the time they needed.

That was something Mikhail could help with. He tentatively spoke up, “We could keep the Monocerous better taken care of.”

“A mobile base is more difficult to locate than a stationary base,” Jin added a second pro.

Haze pointed out the first con: “Though it would be difficult, the Monoceros could be replaced with an inferior ship if absolutely necessary. The same cannot be said for the Marsanes. If it were to break beyond repair, we would be in dire straits.”

“It can’t go above the maximum ping depth of a salvager probe.” Lora hesitated. “Well. It could. We’d just have to use the Monocerous first to confirm an all-clear.”

“Somebody ‘d have to stay on the Marsanes when its active. We’d have to split up. A lot,” Mikhail realized. Splitting up was kind of scary.

Minoth wobbled his hand in a, maybe. “The bridge had some interesting gadgets I want a closer look at. One of them looked like it might let the Monoceros link its controls to the Marsanes.”

...that? Would be neat. Definitely something Mikhail wanted to check out, too.

“Two pros, two cons, and a maybe. Seems we’re rather at a coin toss,” Addam hummed.

Mythra and Malos exchanged looks. Looks that reminded Mikhail of when he, Jin, and Haze had come back from exploring the island Titan and been told what the consequences were for a Master Blade to make their Driver a Blade Eater. The looks were kind of shy, and kind of relieved, and a lot nervous. A wordless conversation past between the two.

Malos rubbed the back of his head and looked at a spot on the floor. “So,” he drug out the word as he meet their eyes, “you’re not going to believe this.”

Chapter Text

The engineering chamber folded open.

Standing within the chamber, hands clamped firmly over her ears, Lora wryly admitted the deafening sound of metal scraping against metal took all the wonder out of it. The diagrams said it was supposed to look like a lotus flower opening. Each of the layers between engineering and open air spread open with a slight twenty five degree twist. The twist allowed for each segment's four "petals" to open or close without banging into each other.

We're going to have to check every level for damage, Lora figured. Architect – how much longer could this go on for?

The abrupt quiet was shocking. For a half second Lora thought she had gone deaf.

Hearing Malos chuckling put paid to that concern. Her big brother was standing right behind her, both of his hands on her shoulders. He was – looking up?

Lora looked. And felt the world slow with wonder.

The Artifice which descended was as big as two Siren put together. It looked like two Siren put together. Its left half was made of the same white metal as Mythra's Siren. Its right half, the same black metal as Malos's. Straight down the Artifice's middle was a patterned seam like that of a zipper meshing the two halves together. It had a Siren's wings, emerald and ruby light-feathers color coded to their corresponding side. It had twin tails, one tail for each half of itself. Those tails were tipped with... heads? Cannons?

At the center of its chest was an emerald cross-shaped crystal identical to any Siren's – save for the fact it was twice as big.

"Oh..." Lora breathed. It was handsome. She couldn't very well say so aloud, though, could she?

It was also awe inspiring with how careful it was being. Its wings were tucked as close to itself as it could get away with. Its tails were set in loops around its ankles to make them small as possible. It was descending at a rate slow enough to confuse it for a snail.

When its sizable feet touched down on the floor far below, it felt like a feather brushing a tabletop. The Artifice was so huge... yet it did its best to be gentle.

There was a faint creek of metal settling. A pause followed, heavy with curious dread on if the floor would hold. They waited. Waited. Waited a little longer...

Aion deactivated its wings. It set its arms crossed around its middle to take up as little space as possible while keeping its Core Crystal-like gem exposed. Its tails unwrapped from its ankles and lifted as if to examine the chamber. The golden band which served as its eyes flickered. Last, its halo of light went dark.

"We're in!" Malos reported, a laugh making his booming voice echo. Answering laughter echoed from above and all around.

"Nobody start partying until after we finish the hookup!" Minoth commanded from his over-watching post at the top of the hole.

"Killjoy," Malos grumped in good natured cheer.

Likewise grinning Lora gave her brother a gentle elbow to the gut. "Come on, then. Sooner Aion's tucked in nice and cozy, sooner we celebrate crazy ideas not being crazy."

"Because if it works, it's not crazy," Malos concurred. With an unwavering grin Malos headed to Aion's right side.

Lora's part in the hookup was simple: Cheer Malos on from a safe distance as her older brother did all the actual work. Not that it mattered, really. If one of them got electrocuted or something, both of them would. Still, Malos had less chance of getting badly hurt than Lora, so to him the work went.

At least the Tornans who built this were practical, Lora mused.

The Marsanes was a prototype. Those in charge of its development had thought Core Crystals might be a ready answer. But, they had prepared for other options as well. Up to and including dropping an ether generator of unprecedented size into engineering.

Aion was not on the same planet as what those now deceased engineers had envisioned. Even so, with a bit of know-how and a lot of caution, Aion's tails were compatible with the available generator ports.

"And... done." Malos stepped cautiously back. With a bit of breath between himself and potential shocking doom, Malos looked up at Aion. "Go ahead and give it a try."

Aion's golden visor flickered. Malos's Core Crystal glowed.

"First connection secure and holding," Malos announced.

There was a pause for a short while. From the opposite side of the room Mythra called out, "Second connection secure and holding!"

"I'd say its time to test if it will work," Addam suggested.

"I'd say so," Minoth concurred. Jin's gentle chuckle floated down. Minoth directed, "That's your cue, Mik'!"

"This is so exciting!" Haze gleefully squeaked. Quietly. It might not have mattered if she had shouted: Standing next to Haze on a crate so that he could reach, Mikhail's features were etched with a fierce frown of concentration as he worked the main engineering console's controls.

A slight stutter. A faint thrum. Aion's visor flickered again. The thrum settled into a near subliminal hum.

"Life support, green. Engines, green. Scanning suite, green. Stealth suite, green. Cloud Sea filtering system, green. Cloud Sea manufacturing system, green. Monoceros linkup, green." Mikhail yelled as loud as he could, "Everything's all green!"

Minoth laughed, "Alright! Let's close this bolt hole, and move on to phase two!"

Not interested in having her ears feel like they were bleeding again, Lora made all haste out of there. If anyone was laughing at her prudence, it was drowned by the sound of metal screeching once more. Malos took the express route of teleporting right into the exterior corridor.

"So now we have to fit four Sirens inside the Monoceros, and then fit the Monoceros inside the Marsanes so that the Sirens can switch out with their four sisters easily," Lora recapped.

"At least finding room on the Marsanes for eight Sirens was easy," Malos hummed.

Once they had removed certain mechanisms, yes, it had been. "Too bad about having to compromise its transformation ability. A robot Titan," Lora hesitated, well aware how much like Mik' she sounded.

"Sounds cool?" Malos completed teasingly.

"Well it does!" Lora defended weakly.

Malos ruffled her hair as he would have ruffled Mikhail's. Squeaking at the boorish treatment Lora raced ahead.

Aion and eight Sirens.

Mythra shook her head once more to rattle the shock clear. At the moment they weren't doing anything more dangerous than courting paper cuts from blueprints so a little distraction was okay. Still...

Malos caught her eye. He looked deliberately at the eight Siren units perched in the Monoceros's dock like over-sized birds squeezing into any place they could fit. Looked back at Mythra, and shrugged.

...yeah. Malos had even less of a clue how that had happened than Mythra.

All I did was ping Aion!

Aion was assigned as her Artifice specifically which was why Mythra had done the pinging. Addam's extemporaneous speech had been ringing in her ears, still. He wouldn't treat an Artifice any different then a Blade because he loved his family. Their family. It was so clear in his sappy diatribes how much he cared. So clear how much Addam loved her, and Malos, and Minoth, and Mikhail, Jin, Haze, Lora – how he loved them all.

It was that sappy, stupid love Mythra was blaming for – well. This.

Eight Siren units, one for each of them. Aion itself acting as a battery for crying out loud. Things that should have been impossible... not being impossible.

All Addam's fault, Mythra reaffirmed. She caught Lora sharing a minx giggle with Mikhail. ...Lora's fault, too.

But Addam was totally getting the blame in Mythra's (completely biased) opinion.

"Good news, we don't have to knock out any walls. The existing holds on both ships will serve," Addam hummed.

"Bad news, we're all going to be getting weight exercises in. There are a goodly amount of materials which will need to be moved," Lora added to Addam's joke.

"We need to resupply on food soon as well," Jin tacked on.

...oh yeah. Food. In the wake of having nine Artifices relocate permanently to Alrest, little things like dinner were hard to keep track of.

"We can't take the Monoceros or the Marsanes out yet. Not until we finish testing everything," Minoth noted.

"Could the Sirens take a couple of us?" Mikhail suggested. The gleam in his eye said of course he didn't have an ulterior motive for asking.

"How would they carry everything back?" Haze asked innocently.

Mikhail deflated, foiled by logic.

Mythra meddled by saying, "It wouldn't be too hard to rig a Cloud Sea resistant container a Siren could carry. We could even make two."

Mikhail bounced in barely contained glee.

Minoth dampened the excitement with a no-nonsense reminder: "We need both of you here to coordinate the flock."

Haze coughed to hide a startled unladylike guffaw. Lora and Mikhail were hopeless, losing to snickers instantly. Jin hid his face in his hand. Addam wasn't much better save he was grinning openly. And Malos --

Malos shared a near identical incredulous look with Mythra. "Flock?" the darkness Master Blade rumbled.

Like I'm supposed to know the technical term? Minoth's arched eyebrow demanded.

"More than three are called a squad," Mythra filled in. Feeling rather impish, she added, "And anyone who can access Elysium in their dreams can control an Artifice if they have the correct permissions. And if they're tall enough to reach here," Mythra marked out a height roughly even with her shoulders, "without standing on anything."

Mikhail crossed his arms and pouted. Mythra kept an apology to herself. Sure, Mikhail was a bright kid with a good heart. He was also a kid. Letting him loose with command of a Siren now was just asking for trouble.

"How many people here can do that?" Minoth demanded. He clearly expected the answer to be two.

Mikhail immediately raised his hand, and then Jin's when the ice Blade did not move fast enough. Haze gave Minoth a shy smile as she likewise raised her hand. A beat of embarrassed hesitation and then Lora raised her hand. So did Addam.

"Had any dreams of a single tree on a hill, Minoth?" Malos asked, half teasing.

Minoth frowned. As the implications sank in, Minoth's eyes jerked to the Siren units. He counted them to confirm their number. Looked Malos dead in the eye. And forced himself to breathe.

"You said you only talked to Aion," Minoth said, voice softened with shock.

"Yep," Mythra confirmed.

Minoth pointed at the Siren units.

"Yeah," Malos concurred.

Minoth's expression screamed, What the hell?!

Malos shrugged. Mythra blurted, "We don't know! They just -- came! Because they wanted to!"

If that was a smirk on Addam's face, Mythra was going to slap her Driver stupid(er), so help her Father.

"And we can," Minoth flicked his hand out to try and strangle his vocabulary back into working order. Either that or he was trying to emulate what Mythra and Malos looked like when physically piloting a Siren.

"Its not hard. It just takes focus," Mythra sort of explained.

Malos picked up with, "The Artifice does ninety percent of the work. The ten percent the controller does is giving directions. You can tell a Siren to go to Alba Cavanich, and it'll go."

"Right through Mor Adrain's army's cannons, I take it?" Addam asked with a rueful smile.

"If you're lucky, she'll stop at the docks instead of dumping you in the town square," Mythra quipped affirmative.

Addam hummed, "Sounds as though the key is to give clear, concise instructions. Before departing I would have to tell whomever is taking me how I wish to arrive. That is, without cannon shots and whatnot."

"Pretty much," Mythra confirmed.

Addam nodded, one hand on his chin as he plotted. "Well then," he announced, "sounds like we need to split up! Two teams of four each. One begins work on clearing out the holds starting with the Monoceros. The other sets out on a fetch quest for foodstuffs with a pair of Sirens. What say you?"

Jin and Mikhail nodded; Jin's smile was a cool reflection of Mikhail's radiant sunbeam. Haze was lost in thought, lips soundlessly moving as she counted out a grocer's list to herself. Lora added a bouncy affirmative. Malos gave a neutral shrug. Mythra crossed her arms over her chest and hummed a simple, "Sure."

"Minoth?" Addam asked their holdout.

"Someone with Artifice experience should be on the supply team just in case," Minoth requested.

"Always a worrywart," Mythra sighed, shaking her head to hide her smile.

"Contingency plans come in handy," Minoth shot back, likewise grinning, though his smile was a bit wane given their topic of discussion. His eyes focused on the blueprints as he sorted and discarded various plots. After a beat, Minoth suggested, "Mythra, Lora, Mikhail, and myself."

"Not Jin or Haze?" Mikhail asked, giving Jin's hand a not so subtle squeeze.

Minoth confirmed, "Yeah."

"But... " Mikhail visibly fought to keep his voice from being a whine. "But I'm always with Jin and Haze."

Minoth's nod was grave. "Exactly."

Mikhail's expression was a mask of confusion. Haze was visibly torn between wanting to hug her Driver and wanting to cry. Malos put a comforting arm around Lora as she leaned into him, looking sadly resigned. Jin kept a reassuring hand on Mikhail's shoulder as he knelt down to look Mik' in the eye.

"We cannot leave patterns for Amalthus to find," Jin spoke gently. Mikhail's eyes went wide with a mix of worry, fear, trepidation -- a whole host of emotions. "A mercenary with a child is memorable. An older sister and their younger brother is not." Jin rested his hand against Mikhail's cheek. "You will have to hide your Core Crystal."

Mikhail's hands jerked protectively to cover his Core. After a beat for the panic to settle, Mikhail whimpered, "I'd stick out if I didn't."

Jin nodded.

Mikhail's fingers traced over his Core Crystal. "That's gonna be hard," he murmured.

Which had Mythra wanting to go shove a Siren's cannon down Amalthus's throat all over again. Mikhail was human -- was just a kid! And Amalthus had stepped all over him, used him, like he was nothing more than a dirty rag. The Praetor had turned Mikhail inside-out for his own twisted amusement and edification.

And what really pissed Mythra off was the fact he was still doing it to other kids just like Mik'. And they couldn't stop him. Not without excessive collateral damage, and one or more of them dying in the attempt or in the aftermath.

I won't do that to the people I love. I won't.

Grabbing her anger and throttling it, Mythra did her best to smile as she offered Mikhail an olive branch of sorts. "We're all going to have to hide our Crystals, Mik'. Me and Malos especially."

"Brings up a good question of how we're going to hide yours." Malos gestures to his own Core. "Armor plate and I'm good. You're a bit too --" He caught Mythra's look and wisely trailed off.

"Finish that sentence, Malos," Mythra dared.

"By all means, please do," Lora glared.

Malos was smart enough to keep his lips zipped.

Haze jumped to the rescue: "Perhaps a nice cloak? We have a few in storage."

Mythra let her glare linger on Malos a heartbeat longer. Turning her attention to Haze, she shrugged, "Worth a shot."

"Why don't the four heading out on supply pickup go with Haze to get outfitted?" Addam suggested. "The rest of us can get the carry crates pulled together."

Since there was no dissent, their group dispersed.

Disguises notwithstanding, Malos would be the first to argue Lora, Mikhail, Mythra, and Minoth had gotten the easy part of their split jobs. The holds in the Monoceros and Marsanes were far from packed to capacity. However, what was there was proving to be a pain in the ass to relocate.

Case in point: A crate of spare parts spilled to the ground in a thunderous roar. The two other boxes which had formed the stack wobbled ominously. No one dared to breathe for a full thirty seconds. When neither box fell off the one-man pneumatic lift dolly, the room dared to breathe.

"Why the hell don't we just have Siren lift this shit?" Malos tartly demanded, collecting up spilled parts.

"Language," Jin, Haze, and Addam censured.

Malos rolled his eyes, staring at the ceiling as though it could grant patience. Exhaling, he rephrased: "Why aren't we having the Siren carry the crates out of here?"

"Logistics!" Addam brightly answered. Too brightly in Malos's dour opinion.

Probably misses Mythra like he'd miss a limb, Malos figured. The knowledge did not improve anything; Malos missed Lora as badly. At least Jin and Haze were holding up alright without Mikhail.

They aren't missing half their soul.

Malos resisted the urge to bang his head against a wall. For one, Lora would feel it. For two, the action would invite questions. Having to answer why he was envious of his big brother and sister-by-Core would be stupid, embarrassing, and stupid.

A cool hand touched Malos's shoulder. The chill soothed the itching sensation of half his Core being absent/out of range. Breathing in slowly, Malos looked over at Jin. The brighter than normal glow of Jin's Core Crystal was nearly missed hidden as it was by his bangs.

"Don't push it," Malos requested. His tone added a subtle thanks.

Jin removed his hand. The soothing chill withdrew as his Core Crystal's glow dimmed back to its new normal. Jin's frown was a subtle twist of lips.

"You're hurt."

Malos's big brother sounding lost was too many levels of wrong for Malos to process.

Without thinking, Malos drug Jin into a bear hug. The fact Jin let him said a hell of a lot. "Off-balance," Malos corrected. "Half my Core 's on the other end of Alrest."

"Surely they're not that far," Addam verbally pounced, concerned.

“They aren’t,” Malos knew, releasing Jin. His big brother stayed close enough to nudge Malos’s shoulder. As he moved, Malos reflexively checked with his Siren. The Siren Minoth and Lora had taken was not his own (Lora would have given him so much grief about him being overprotective if Malos had tried to get them to take his). Regardless, his Siren received Minoth’s Siren’s location data as fast as thought. Breathing out slowly, Malos waffled, “The last time we split up, the world went to hell.”

Slow nods agreement from the others. Jin’s nod was tinted with a suspicious narrowing of eyes.

Sorry, big brother, but there are some things not everyone needs to know, Malos quipped to himself.

And yet for some reason Jin nodded as though Malos had spoken aloud.

It was Haze who blew the conversation back to safer territory: “You were saying about logistics, Addam?”

Addam nodded, tacking into Haze’s breeze. “As we all know, the Monoceros and Marsanes have a matched set of holds on their starboard and port sides. Each hold on the Monoceros connects to its mate on the Marsanes via docking clamps.”

“The same clamps which keep the Monoceros secure while its docked within the Marsanes.”  Haze gave the statement a question’s tone.

“The very same,” Addam confirmed. “Its fortunate these paired holds are the largest of the holds within both ships, otherwise all eight Sirens would never fit. Even then its going to be rather snug. Regardless, we can’t keep any supplies in with the Sirens.” Addam snorted, “Not unless we want it floating out to the Cloud Sea whenever we pop open the hold-turn-hanger’s hatches.”

“I thought the safety measures in place prevented…?” Tapping her index finger to her lip as she thought, Haze mused, “But if we could work around it, it would be quite exciting.”

“We can figure it out. Its not like we’re working under a time constraint,” Malos noted. He silently added on a, Yet. Part of the “supplies” Minoth was bringing back would be information. Always was. And as usual, whatever news Minoth brought would dictated their schedule moving forward.

“Yes, well, its those same safety features which are preventing us from employing the Sirens in helping to reorganize things,” Addam noted.

Malos slapped his palm against his face as he figured it out. “The Monoceros’s dock has to stay full so the Sirens can get back in. And even if we did drain the dock long enough for a Siren to get in and help us here, all they could do would be move the crap to the Marsanes.”

“An act which would rather compound the need to clear out all four holds,” Addam concurred.

Malos vented his frustration with a grumbled curse. He turned with a will back to getting the spilled items back in their crate. From there came stacking the crate neatly on top of the other two, and then walking the tower – slowly! – to the second largest hold in the Monoceros. Once there, getting the crates put away took five minutes.

“Three down,” Haze attempted to cheer.

“Twenty to go,” Addam tried to quip brightly. He dulled, adding a dim, “In this hold at least.”

Malos failed at holding in a groan. Getting everything cleared out was going to take forever and a Father damned day.

Hours later they were finishing unloading the last batch of crates when Addam yelped. In the time it took Addam to stick his thumb in his mouth, he was surrounded by worried Blades.

“I pinched my thumb in the damn crates,” Addam growled. He was visibly tempted to kick said offending crates. Haze held out her hand in command. “I’m fine,” Addam insisted.

“Whatever injuries you have are echoed by Mythra. Who is currently guarding Lord Mikhail,” Haze noted, voice chill as Jin’s ice.

Addam paled at the reminder. Wordless, he surrendered his hand. Haze hummed as she examined Addam’s discolored thumb. A touch of ether and the purple blotches bled back towards unmarred white.

“Just a bruise,” Haze reported, breathing a little easier. Jin noticeably relaxed as well.

“They shouldn’t be much longer,” Addam noted in an effort to further soothe tensions.

Malos paused, receiving an alert from his Siren. “Minoth’s on his way back.” About damn time, in Malos’s opinion.

“Mythra won’t be far behind him. Let’s take a short rest and get ourselves fortified for their arrival, hum? Architect knows what all will have added itself to the supply list on their outing,” Addam suggested, tone light.

Haze agreed near immediately. Jin hesitated a moment before concurring. Malos was already out the door heading for the iced love lemon water in the mess.

Mechanical things were simple things. They could do so many things if they were put together right. Well taken care of mechanical things would never hurt their maker, and could be trusted to continue their functions until they could function no more. They also never had opinions about anything – which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, per say. It just did not make machines better than people.

The sound of Mythra yelp drew Mikhail out of his musings. Abandoning his attempts to figure out how the pocket clock worked without taking it apart, Mikhail headed for Mythra.

“Are you alright deary?” asked the stall’s proprietor. The wispy woman looked otherworldly standing behind rows of bottles, beakers, and tubes. Each bit of glassware was filled with liquids ranging from opaque to glass-clear in colors from dark amber to pastel blues. The smell as it impacted Mikhail’s nose reminded him of the main reason he had fled to neighboring junk shop.

“Pinched my thumb,” Mythra mumbled around her thumb. She took it out of her mouth and gave her hand a good shake. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

The wispy shop owner nodded, accepting Mythra’s words at face value. Mikhail was suspicious but not so much as to be overtly concerned. If Mythra said everything was fine, then everything probably was.

“Did you find the scent you were looking for?”

Mythra shook her head. “I found the scent, but none with Titan oil cream. I was given strict instructions it had to be with Titan oil cream.” In emphasis, Mythra pulled out an envelope. When she flicked it at the proprietor in emphasis, Mikhail caught the flash of a wax seal.

So did the proprietor. Her eyes went wide for a heartbeat, then narrowed into thoughtful slits. “That is a shame. I might be able to make you a batch with the scent you need, save I’m afraid I’m all out of Titan oil cream.”

“Will you have any in by month’s end?” Mythra asked.

“If the weather holds.”

“Way I hear it, the currents are shifting around Torigoth. The weather may not be a problem too soon.”

The proprietor nodded, “So it may.” She pulled out a scrap of paper and a writing tool. “Write down the scents you need mixed, love. I’ll have them brewed by the second week of the month baring any madness with the shipping lanes. The Praetor keeps swearing his methods will prove fruitful in the end, but,” and she let the sentence hang.

Mythra scribbled something on the paper and handed it back. The envelope went with it. The proprietor nodded, humming to herself, and tucked paper and envelope into a skirt pocket.

“We’ll be back,” Mythra half promised, half warned.

The proprietor laughed daintily at their withdrawing backs.

Mikhail waited until they were lost in the crowd before figuring, “That wasn’t about Titan oil hand cream at all.”

Mythra held a finger to her lips. Mikhail twisted his fingers in his disguising cloak’s fabric. Mythra and he had worn matching traveler’s cloaks cut Gormotti style. The fabric was thin enough to allow for airflow, but thick enough to keep out the worst a Gormotti storm could toss on a traveler. Or, in Mythra and Mikhail’s case, thick enough to hide the glow of Core Crystals. Mythra not wearing her feathered headband was weird. Its lack meant the dozen or so eyes of Alba Cavanich shoppers (and guardsmen) passed over Mythra and Mikhail as just another pair of travelers heading for an inn.

Mythra led the way down a side street one off from an inn. The inn boasted of a hot spring. There were enough pipes wrapped around the inn to make the spring thing a distinct possibility. The pipes gave a good deal of cover, so even if a hot spring in the middle of Mor Ardain’s capital was a lie, Mikhail didn’t mind. He did mind that Mythra had to help him down over a ledge since Mikhail was too short to safely jump it.

They were secure in Mythra’s Siren’s cockpit before Mythra answered, “You’re right. All that talk about hand cream was a cover. That cosmetics owner is a spy.”

“Hugo’s spy?” Mikhail guessed.

“Brighid’s, technically,” Mythra confirmed. “Addam promised Hugo to let him know you were okay. That was the closest we could safely get to keeping that promise.”

Mikhail nodded slowly, working through the twisty logic. “Hugo can’t be seen with any of us, and we can’t go see Hugo. Hugo’s Emperor of Mor Ardain. If he knows anything about Addam being alive – if anyone knows Hugo knows – the whole Titan...” Mikhail trailed off.

“Yeah,” Mythra softly agreed. “If Hugo knows anything, and Indol knows he knows, Mor Ardain is sunk.”

“Stupid Praetor,” Mikhail grumbled. As Siren sunk into the Cloud Sea, a thought occurred. “Won’t the spy be in trouble?”

“No. She doesn’t know who we are. All she knows is a young boy was travailing with a lady who knows the passwords to get an urgent parcel to Brighid,” Mythra explained. “Even if someone got suspicious, she doesn’t know anything, so she can’t tell anything.”

“Oh.”

Silence held for a while.

“Mythra?” Mikhail waited for Mythra to hum, showing Mikhail had as much of her attention as Mythra could give. “We won’t be able to use Mor Ardain’s spy network forever.”

“No,” Mythra agreed, “we won’t.”

Mikhail let the silence play out a little longer. Suspicious, Mikhail asked, “Minoth has a plan?”

“Worse.” Mythra turned to look Mikhail in the eye. “Addam does.”

Mikhail nodded, processing. “Can we take off our disguises now?”

Mythra’s answer was to rip her cloak off. Quickly, Mikhail followed her example. The whole time his Core had been hidden, it had felt like Mikhail had been holding his breath. Now without the obstruction Mikhail breathed in slow and deep. He didn’t want to hide his Core ever again.

How did Jin and Malos hide their Cores all the time? Mikhail wondered. He couldn’t quite remember why Jin and Malos had needed to hide their Cores for a long time, only that they had. There were a lot of things Mikhail couldn’t quite remember. Jin did remember, though; that was enough for Mikhail.

A chime rang inside the cockpit.

Mythra smiled, “We’re home.”

Feeling Jin’s ether reach for his own, Mikhail grinned. Yeah. They were home.

Minoth wasted exactly zero time stripping out of his disguise of a plain mercenary. It was so bland a disguise it was impressive: A plain cotton shirt, plain armored vest, and a plain short sword. Minoth had even let his hair down. The outfit was so much Minoth’s opposite, even Amalthus would have missed him at a distance.

Taking a steadying breath, Minoth secured his hair back into is proper place. Being back in his armor was a relief deep enough to feel in his bones. Strange, too. Minoth had always been partial of his armor. It had been formed with him at his awakening, and it would disperse with him at his death. Before now, he had never quite felt it as keenly.

Side effect of this? Minoth wondered, eyeing his green Core Crystal in the mirror. Checking his weapons were fast in their holsters, Minoth hummed. The change to his Core Crystal was too new to say definitively what else had changed with it. One change Minoth would never wish to not be awed by was knowing exactly where his Driver was.

Half closing his eyes to concentrate, Minoth focused on his link to Addam. His Prince was with Mythra from the feel of it. The two were in the kitchen with the others. Heading for the kitchen himself, Minoth hummed. The kitchen was large enough for everyone to fit comfortably, sure, but Jin tended to be territorial about “his” domain. Minoth had no problem with it: Anything that kept Mythra out of the kitchen unsupervised was a good thing in Minoth’s books. It was also too early for lunch given the supplies had only just been stowed.

Minoth halted inside the kitchen door to take the measure of the room. Addam was standing next to the sink with a frosty glass of iced love lemon water cradled in both hands like it were a diviner’s mirror. Mythra was leaning on the counter next to the sink, arms crossed loosely over her chest, one incredulous eyebrow raised in Addam’s direction. Malos stood across from Mythra and was rubbing the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. In arm’s reach to Malos’s right, Haze had one hand pressed to her mouth to keep in either giggles or gasps. Mikhail was sitting on Jin’s shoulder, Jin himself standing close enough to Haze for the wind Blade’s shoulder to brush Mikhail’s knee. Mikhail’s jaw was hanging open low enough to brush Jin’s chin. Jin had his free hand pressed to his face as if he could hide himself from insanity in motion. Standing on Malos’s left, Lora had one hand on her hip and the other covering her eyes.

Minoth nodded to himself. Without further preamble, he turned on Addam. “What did you do?”

“I’ve not done anything!” Addam protested. He looked scandalized to such a degree Minoth knew it was a front.

“Yet,” Mythra corrected. “You haven’t done anything yet.”

“And he’s not going to if he’s any sense whatsoever,” Lora swiftly added.

Minoth lifted an eyebrow.

Lora rolled her eyes and groaned, “I can’t repeat it. Its too… Too…!”

“Even I think its crazy,” Malos filled in.

“And it is?” Minoth asked.

“Taking up acting!” Addam answered guilelessly.

Minoth paused. Pointedly, he looked at Jin. Jin shook his head negative, making Minoth concerned. If even Jin was unsure how the conversation had gotten wherever it had, Minoth knew he was going to need heavier fortification than his armor. Heading for where the glasses were kept, Minoth instructed his Prince to, “Start from the beginning.”

“We can’t rely indefinitely on information brokers for knowledge of what’s going on in Alrest,” Addam began. “As Mikhail pointed out, we can’t rely on Mor Ardain indefinitely, either. Cautious though we may be, every time we access Hugo’s network of spies, we put Hugo and his country at risk.”

Minoth poured out a glass of iced love lemon water. Taking a reinforcing sip, he gestured Addam to continue.

“What’s the one group of traveling folk no one looks twice at?” Addam asked.

“Mercenaries,” Haze answered promptly.

“And I concur,” Addam pointed at Haze jovially, “except we can’t play the mercenary card. Amalthus knows our backgrounds. He may think me dead, and have suspicions regarding Lora’s own demise. From that he may further assume Mythra and Malos have reverted to Core Crystals, as Blades are bound to do upon their Driver’s death. But he also knows someone with a grudge broke into his labs.”

Minoth snorted, “You think Amalthus thinks I pulled together my mercenary contacts. That I went to ground with them after the hit.”

“I’d bet you a twenty gold coin piece that’s exactly what he’s thinking,” Addam affirmed.

“Be nice if you actually had that much coin,” Mythra quipped.

Addam hummed around a swallow of his drink. “Which leads us to the other problem facing us, aside from staying out of Amalthus’s sights. We’re in need of capital. We can’t go mercenary as Amalthus will be watching those.”

“We could stick with the idea of going salvager,” Haze suggested.

“Short term, salvaging is ideal. We are in need of something far longer reaching,” Addam hummed.

“Salvaging is a regulated business,” Minoth noted at the confused looks Addam’s words garnered. “What the Nopon trade guilds don’t have on monopoly, Mor Ardain does as a matter of national security.”

“We might be able to get a writ authorizing us general contractor salvage rights through the Mor Ardain military, but that will take time. It will also be a risk both to Hugo and to us. One slip up in the paperwork, and Amalthus will not only have us, but all the justification he needs to sink Mor Ardain. No,” Addam pressed on, “we need something which can begin immediately, be maintained long term, and leave no paper trail. Something cultured. Refined.”

Dump me in the World Tree’s roots, Minoth cursed, catching on. He’d known Addam was crazy, but he hadn’t thought Addam utterly mad. Aloud, Minoth vetoed, “No.”

“Come now!” Addam whined.

“No.”

“You’ve got a good half dozen scrips. We’ve already proven we’ve materials enough for simple costumes,” Addam pressed.

“No,” Minoth glowered.

“And whoever would look twice at a wandering band of --”

“Vagabonds?” Malos interrupted.

“Deadbeats?” Lora tossed in.

“Derelicts?” Jin quipped.

“Entertainers!” Addam concluded.

“You’re insane,” Minoth pointed out, deadpan.

“The last time a plan was pronounced impossible, it concluded in Aion relocating to main engineering,” Addam pointed out.

...oh Architect. The madman had a point.

“Alright,” Minoth yielded, ignoring the resulting cacophony of groans, “let’s hear it.”

Addam’s grin promised trouble.

Chapter Text

Hundreds of years is a lengthy time. Events happen. Lives live. Time passes and the world spins on. A curtain draws upon one scene, and opens on another –

Fonsa Myma was eternal. The capital of Uraya endured and would continue to endure until the inevitable time when the Titan went to its final rest. By that same token, Fonsa Myma was ever changing. Merchants and mercenaries flooded the city every day. Artisans of all stripes, creeds, crafts, and talents filled the capital from the highest towers to the lowest sewers. Regardless of their station, they all shared the same dream. Each and every artisan knew – if they could make it in Fonsa Myma, they could make it anywhere.

The docks were a place of wonder more so than Fonsa Myma’s main gate. People walked through the main gate. At the docks, people rode in style. Boats of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities drifted in and out with the tide and the Titan’s whims. (It was hard to launch a boat when the Titan decided it wanted to be submerged.) Even familiar boats known to come on strict schedules never carried quite the same cargo each time. There was always something different, something new, pulling into port. Riffraff come to see the show were a constant, expected nuisance. The guards took note of them whenever they shooed them off. Like the tide, they inevitably returned.

Unless they were smart.

Like all of Uraya, Fonsa Myma rolled with hills of various sizes. No two parts of the city were exactly level, which meant no two buildings were quite the same height. Towers were as common as bird droppings in Fonsa Myma. Maintaining those towers required a regiment of ladders. Ladders leaning on towers was so common a sight it was beneath the notice of even the most astute guard.

Which was how a certain blond haired, blue eyed teen had gotten himself undetected up a tower with a prime view of the docks.

Mechanical things were a fondness for the boy. Boats were a special hobby, given how he lived in one. Catching a boat undergoing maintenance was a rare treat gleefully looked for. He could spend hours looking through his binoculars doing nothing more than staring at each boat’s mechanisms, trying to pry apart their secrets with his eyes alone. All the different engine parts were fascinating…!

The boy’s lips curled in disgust. There was an ugly mar on the docks today. A ship whose hull was cast of ivory white and gold trim. It tried to seem sincere in its simplicity, and failed given its gaudy attempts at subtle extravagance. An Indoline vessel. It was too ornate to be a merchant vessel. It wasn’t ornate enough to be a missionary vessel. It was out of the ordinary… and it was docked right next to an Ardanian military frigate.

Curious and worried in equal measure, the boy adjusted himself so the light would not catch on the lenses of his binoculars. From his perch he scanned the docks. It didn’t take him long to find the Indoline vessel’s crew: Those born of Indol stood out in a crowd by design. Warrior monks really stood out, the whites of their armor clashing against the darker blues of Urayan stone. Warrior monks weren’t much for manual labor. These ones… These ones were hauling crates towards the Ardanian frigate with guarded care.

A bunch of crates picked up in Uraya being transported by Mor Ardain yet handled strictly by Indoline warrior monks. Indol certainly hadn’t lost its ability to slap all parties in the face simultaneously.

This must be the shipment, the boy reasoned. The boy’s stomach sunk towards his shoes. Those are a lot more crates than our contact said would –

A pair of monks hauled a woman in prisoner’s robes out of a blind spot. The woman snapped at her captors, black hair whipping around her as she snarled, her arms straining against her bonds. The boy was too far to make out what she said. Whatever it was had to be good given how the monk on her right tried to take her knees out.

Why would warrior monks be escorting a prisoner?

The boy had a guess. The thought made his chest ache in phantom pain.

“Mikhail?”

A touch of ice and ether and love brushing inside his soul sounding like words without voice.

Mikhail stowed his binoculars and made for a swift exit. I’m okay, Jin, he tried to send. Only two people were as good at reading the ether as Jin, and Mikhail was not one of them.

His intent got through clear enough. The next touch of icy ether carried fondness, alertness. “Found trouble, little brother?”

Just the trouble Torna had been looking for – and then some…

It never ceased to amaze Akhos how his sister could sleep through anything. Who knew how she did it. Patroka could lay down, close her eyes, and be asleep in five minutes flat. It wasn't that Patroka did not care. She wouldn't be here, like him, if she truly did not care. Patroka had such a unique way to compartmentalize –

There was a singing spark in the ether. It felt like... an Art?

The door to their cell shuddered. Akhos's eyes narrowed. What on Alrest could make reinforced ether resistant steel...?

The door fell over. In pieces.

Akhos stared at what was left of the door. There was a man with platinum white hair and a mask standing there. He had a slim black sword and wore unique white armor.

"Whops."

Akhos had to stand up to get his jaw off the ground. Had a man who was capable of dismantling ether resistant steel just gone... whops?

There were dark snickers from outside the door. The man shot a glare over his shoulder towards the snickers. The snickers gained intensity, becoming a laugh. Rolling his eyes, the man put his sword along his back, where a faint click locked it into place. And then he... walked into their cell.

The man held out his hand.

Caught in a limelight, Akhos flubbed his lines. "Er...?"

"Would you rather stay?" the man asked.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. "You don't even know who my sister and I are."

"Will you drop that stupid sibling crap?" Patroka snarled

"Siblings?" inquired the man.

Akhos reached for his locket by habit. "Our Drivers were twins," he explained, showing off their photo.

The man nodded; a faint ghost of a smile tugged on his lips. "My baby brother and I's Drivers are siblings, too."

"Hey! Not a baby, you old man!" laughingly protested someone outside the door.

"You guys seriously buy into that sibling crap?" Patroka asked. She hadn't moved from her resting spot on the floor.

“Why not?” countered the man.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Patroka snorted. Rolling to her feet, she sighed, “Whatever. Going with you beats being executed.”

Chuckling, the man headed back into the hall. Hesitating for a moment, Akhos and Patroka followed after. The two guards who had been posted to their door were both slumped on the ground. One of them groaned.

“You left them alive?” Patroka demanded.

“No point in killing them.” The speaker was a man – a Blade – in black armor. It was then Akhos realized both men had their Core Crystals hidden. Probably an intimidation tactic: Scared humans were stupid humans.

There was a faint bass boom which rocked the whole ship.

The man in white armor winced, identifying it as, “That’s the engine being blown.”

“Time to scram,” agreed the man in black armor. He reached out and tapped Akhos and Patroka on their shoulders. “Come on. This way.”

Hesitant for a moment, Akhos and Patroka followed. The man in white followed from the rear so as to watch their backs. The man in black led them up a set of stairs; stopped at the top, crouching low. He waited seemingly for no reason – and then he crested the top step with a single blurring leap. A thud reported a body hitting the deck. Gesturing for them to hurry, the man in black continued on to the t-intersection ahead. Akhos spared the body a look as they past. They weren’t going to be conscious any time soon, but they were far from dead.

A crack crack echoed down the hall. Steam powered rifle shots. Several of them.

Two bodies skidded across the intersection in front of them, their arms flailing wildly for balance.

One body resolved itself to be a moderately tall, lanky young man with blond hair and striking silver-blue eyes, dressed up in some kind of specialized armor whose off-white, silver, and black color scheme matched their rescuers. The second body belonged to a woman a full head shorter than Patroka with red hair and stunning golden eyes. The woman’s armor was more traditional than the young man’s: The decorated shirt was black with red skirt and gold trim; the armored boots, gauntlets, and shoulder pads were a matching off-white to the young man’s armor.

“Not this way!” the duo yelped.

All of them ducked when a bullet sparked off a pipe near the young man’s head.

“Armor!” commanded the man in black armor. The ether flow around them twisted into patterned shields. Just in time, too. A bullet spoinged off the shield surrounding the woman.

“Either of you ever made a cliff jump into a lake?” asked the man in white. The man who was now racing ahead of them given they’d changed directions.

Patroka and Akhos exchanged looks. “Er… Yes?” Akhos confirmed tentatively on their behalf. It wasn’t easy to do so given they were all running for their lives.

“Aw man. Plan D?” asked the young man.

“Must we?” asked the woman with a sigh.

“You both set the fuses?” demanded the man in black.

“Well, yes, but,” the woman hugged her back to the wall when the man in black shouted; once the imminent danger past, she continued, “I didn’t think we’d have to use the secondary charges per say.”

“She patterned the cords. Very chic,” chuckled the young man. He had – were those fans Blade weapons? Where had he gotten those? The weapons weren’t new to him. He was using them to deflect steam bullets with sharp, clearly practiced flicks of his wrists.

“What,” asked the man in white, “did,” sliced a bullet in half, “you do?”

“Nothing much. Just a small message.” The woman chuckled weakly at the man in white’s look. “Fall the Praetor of Lies.”

“Very chic,” chuckled the man in black. He snapped his right hand out. Darts of black fire hit the lights above, dropping the hall into darkness. If it weren’t for the Blade weapons the young man had out, Akhos and Patroka would be running blind.

“Should make a nice hole in the hull,” concurred the man in white.

With an abruptness that seemed impossible, they were out on a covered observation deck. Their group skidded to a halt. To their right were at least ten soldiers armed with loaded rifles. To their left were just as many soldiers. Ahead were twenty centered on a man wearing naval blue armor and a fancy commission cap. To their back came the sound of soldiers giving chase.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Patroka snarled, hands balling into fists; she started to crouch. The young man clipped his weapons to his hips and put a steadying hand on Patroka’s shoulder. Later, Akhos would wonder how the young man didn’t loose said hand.

“You’ve led my men on a merry chase, I grant you that,” stated the man with the commission cap. Clearly he was the captain. “But enough is enough. You’ll surrender your weapons now and come quietly.”

“Let the Praetor know Torna remembers his sins,” said their rescuer.

A handful of things happened simultaneously.

There was an explosion somewhere below their feet. The ship listed to their rear hard enough Akhos thought they were going to capsize. All of the soldiers and their captain staggered under the force of the abrupt tilt. A segment of deck railing fell out of place leaving a hole wide enough for six people to walk through easily.

Patroka and Akhos nearly lost their footing as well. Except they didn’t because the young man had grabbed Patroka by her hand and the woman had grabbed tight to Akhos’s hand. The woman had a surprising amount of strength; she hauled Akhos forward against the force of the backwards tilt. The man in white and man in black both rushed ahead of them. Using their shoulders, the two knocked the staggered soldiers off their feet entirely. The soldiers went sliding down the deck. The young man and woman continued their pull forward.

Before Akhos knew what was happening, he was jumping off the ship. And the woman still had hold of his hand.

There was time enough to think, What on Alrest is that?! And then whatever it was breached the Cloud Sea, locked Akhos and the woman into a red-glowing black pit, and then –

Ow.

Shaking himself of the impact, Akhos tried to get his bearings. The woman’s face had a surreal look in the walls’ red glow. Were they even walls? Whatever this place was, it was small. Small enough there was a legitimate concern of cracking his head against the walls or whatevers if he moved took quickly.

“Sorry the landing was a bit hard,” apologized the woman. She bounced down so that she was crouched on the balls of her feet. “You alright?”

“Oh yes. Fine. I love taking a twenty pede drop onto solid – is this steel?” Akhos asked.

“Yes, you’re fine alright,” giggled the woman. She offered her hand to Akhos. Adjusting his glasses, Akhos accepted the help up.

“Akhos?” Patroka’s voice seemed to come from everywhere.

“Patroka? What…?”

“Here,” the woman pointed out.

Akhos stared. There was a red outlined box showing a picture of Patroka standing in front of the young man. And then Akhos stared a bit more because the picture was moving. Two more boxes popped up without warning, startling Akhos bad enough he jumped back. His elbow cracked against the wall with a thud that was as loud as it was painful.

The man in black demanded, “Everyone do a check. Siren, good to withdraw.”

“Alecto, likewise,” sounded off the man in white.

“Ocypete good to go. One passenger secured,” chimed the young man behind Patroka.

“Tisiphone is ready, plus one slightly dented passenger. We’re all good, Malos,” affirmed the woman.

“Then let’s fly,” commanded the man in black.

“You mean swim,” chuckled the young man. He requested cordially, “Excuse me,” and nudged Patroka behind him. The young man flicked both hands forward and the red-lighted darkness was replaced by light like that from an ether lamp.

The woman spread her arms out before her. A similar type of light filled the room Akhos was in. After a few blinks, Akhos realized the walls were showing what it looked like under the Cloud Sea. From the way the bubbles were moving and the faint feel of acceleration, they were… But they couldn’t be.

“Are we in some kind of ship?” Patroka asked.

“Something like that,” confirmed the young man. “Ah,” he neatened his hair, “where have my manners gone? The name’s Mikhail.”

“Patroka,” Patroka introduced herself in kind without prompting. Probably because she was as shocked as Akhos felt.

“I’m Lora,” introduced the woman.

“Akhos,” Akhos managed.

“This is Jin.” Lora pointed at the picture of the man in white armor. The mysterious Jin nodded in hello. Lora then pointed to the man in black armor. “And this grump is Malos.”

“You nearly got shot. Again. I have a right to be a grump,” grumped Malos.

Lora giggled but otherwise ignored Malos’s complaint. She explained, “We’re pirates!”

“Arr!” agreed Mikhail, laughing.

Malos slapped his hand against his face and groaned.

“Today at least we were pirates,” Lora amended mirthfully. Sighing with a jovial air, she added, “That was quite a lot of fun. All except that ending bit where we were surrounded. We should do that again sometime.”

“Think I got a few ways around having to do Plan E,” Mikhail chimed with equal mirth.

“We should come up with clearer plan names,” suggested Jin.

“Don’t give them ideas, Jin. Please. Just… don’t,” Malos requested. Jin’s smile was cat subtle.

“Where are we going?” Patroka asked.

“To the dry dock,” Jin answered promptly.

“Do we count as prisoners or pirate booty?” Akhos inquired.

“Oooh. That’s a tough one,” Mikhail hummed. “I mean technically we were after all the Core Crystals being transported to Indol, and you two count. But you’re also Blades, and that makes you people, so you’d qualify like prisoners.”

“Prisoners aren’t people you rescue, though,” Lora countered.

“You do know we’re Flesh Eaters, right?” demanded Patroka.

Mikhail and Lora exchanged looks through the boxes on walls as easily as if they had been standing side by side. In unison the two looked at Akhos and Patroka and demanded, “So?”

...Akhos felt like he needed to sit down now.

“So?” Patroka repeated incredulously.

“You’re both sane,” Mikhail pointed out.

“At least as sane as you can get after our little rescue.” Malos’s tone dripped sarcasm.

“Which means whatever happened, it wasn’t done lightly. Being hurt doesn’t make you any less a person. You’re not monsters,” Lora insisted.

Akhos struggled to find his voice. When he found it, the words were faint. “Many people would not agree with you.” Including myself.

“A lot of people are afraid. Some for good reason. Others?” Lora let a sad humph say all that needed to be said.

Jin broke into the silence with, “We’re here.”

Here was a slab of solid steel that was huge. The massive slab split vertical down the middle into a corridor big enough for a warship to pass through with room to spare. The vessel they were in passed through the door and seemed to float – up? The ether lighting flickered over walls made of dark metal worked for stealth embellished with flutes of gold. The higher up they got, the more of the supposed dry dock Akhos could see. It was unlike docking area Akhos was aware of. At first glance, there none of the rigging needed to keep a Titan ship safely moored. It rather begged the question of which country had made this place.

And then they… kept going up. Even as the Cloud Sea was drained out around them, they rose towards the ceiling of the not insignificantly sized room/dock/area/place.

“Same order we launched,” Malos directed.

Lora, Mikhail, and Jin acknowledged. Then something – moved. Out the corner of Akhos’s eye.

A woman made of black metal with gold accents floated – floated! – forward from behind and to Akhos’s right. Oh so gently, she knelt at the far end of a flat spot of land. It was some kind of dock; had to be, with the pier standing waiting for a ship. Once the woman was safely down, she held her hands to just underneath her chest. A – a man walked into the woman’s hands. The woman lowered her hands so that the man could walk onto the ground. As soon as the man was safely down, the woman rested her hands upon her knee, lowered her head, and went unnaturally still.

A pair of arms rose into either side of Akhos’s view as the vessel he was in moved forward. Then the wall in front of Lora and Akhos folded out and down from its base. Two hands whose fingers were interlaced to form a solid platform came up underneath the wall-turned-door. Lora turned and offered Akhos her hand.

Swallowing trepidation, Akhos took Lora’s outstretched hand. Smiling as she moved, Lora gently tugged Akhos out onto the wall-turned-door. And further, out onto the interlaced fingers. The wall-turned-door closed as soon as they were out. Smoothly without so much as a bump the hands were lowered close enough to the ground a little hop got them safely to their feet on firm stonework. Old stonework. Concrete?

Akhos turned to follow the hands as their owner rose back to her full impressive height. She dipped slightly in a kind of curtsy. Akhos returned the gesture with a little bow. The woman floated up and above to join the other metal woman with golden highlights. It was when Lora giggled and squeezed his hand that Akhos realized he was still holding tight. Quickly, Akhos let go.

There wasn’t time to be embarrassed by his being grabby: Another metal woman was coming in to deposit passengers. This one differed from the previous two by having highlights of silver instead of gold. The human-like grace and dancer-like poise of her movements arrested Akhos’s full attention. The green crystal on her breastplate folded open from its base to form a familiar wall-turned-door. Mikhail walked out onto the platform and then turned back into the room. With trepidation visible from the ground, Patroka got herself onto the platform. It took a tug from Mikhail to get Patroka onto the woman’s interlaced fingers.

Getting to the ground once the hands were low enough required no such encouragement.

“Holy shit,” Patroka cursed. Shaking knees threatened to send her crashing.

“Don’t mind her, Ocypete, love,” Mikhail said. To the giant metal woman. Mikhail gave a dramatic bow as he helped steady Patroka. “You were sweat as always, my dear. Enjoy your well earned rest!”

The woman with silver highlights did a mid-air spiral that was entirely for show as she departed.

A fourth woman came forward. This one also had silver highlights. Unlike the first with silver, this one gave no dramatic flourishes. She helped Jin to the ground, waited to insure he was safely deposited, and departed. To where, Akhos could now see: The lack of lighting in the docking area played with his sense of distance. The ceiling was not quite as high up as it had first appeared. Nor was it without blemishes: The two silver lined metal women settled themselves in the crisscrossing support beams like great raptors settling into beloved nests.

“Welcome to the dock,” Jin said. He said it so simply, too, as he sauntered over to them; as if this entire adventure had been a Tuesday jaunt to the markets.

Oh Architect. What if it was? Akhos wondered. Wondered in awe or in fear, Akhos wasn’t sure.

“It doesn’t have a name. We just call it the dock when we have to call it something,” Mikhail chuckled. He kept his arm around Patroka’s waist in a subtle way, ready to skip out of her range if Patroka took a swipe at him. Smart, that.

Jin headed for a warm light denoting a tunnel. “Come on. We should get you situated before the others arrive.”

Akhos’s ears perked at others. Others insinuated this whatever-this-was was something organized.

“You two probably want a hot shower and clean cloths, right? We got both!” Mikhail gestured towards Jin’s departing coattails. He hesitated. “At least I think we’ve got clean cloths in your sizes. We pick up some random stuff sometimes.”

Malos’s snort indicated Mikhail’s words were something of an understatement.

Patroka found her voice. She demanded at a pitch just shy of a shriek, “Who are you people?”

Mikhail’s grin was dangerous. Malos sported an equally sharp grin. Jin tilted his head towards Lora as though passing the question to her. Lora folded her hands in front of her heart and smiled.

“We are Torna.”

The situation was mad enough it demanded repeating. They were eating dinner. With Torna.

Patroka was seated a socially acceptable distance from a man with spiked tarnished platinum hair and sterling blue eyes. The man wasn't human – the ether flow around him was too much for a human – but he didn't feel like a Blade. He was in a boisterous conversation with the kid, Mikhail, that had the teen-looking male rubbing the back of his head in a failing effort to fight off embarrassment. Next to the spiky haired man was a dirty brown haired man who snorted subtly at the scene. The man was a bibliophile; Patrokahad had lived with Akhos long enough she could peg another of that type at thirty paces. The scar on his face, though... It spoke of hard acquaintance with violence, and skills to survive lethally close odds.

Right next to the scarred man was a woman who looked like she was Lora's twin. Her hair was longer, thicker, and a darker shade of red, but otherwise the two looked too close. Across from the woman was another lady: Gold blond hair down to her hips, pale white skin, and white armor that screamed Legend Blade. Ignoring the fact her Core Crystal wasn't visible, the woman probably was a Blade. The ether flowed too much around her. Heading down the bench, there was Lora, Mikhail, Malos, a space, and then Akhos.

They had set it up so Patroka and Akhos were right across from each other. They had deliberately left them with room enough to fight or flee.

What the hell.

Torna was a scourge on Alrest. Shipping disasters. Coordinated corralling of monster to siege cities. Murdering Drivers for their Core Crystals. The horror stories were a ten gold piece a dozen. Every child from Mor Ardain to Tantal, of all places, knew of Torna's sins.

And yet everything that had happened to Patroka and Akhos was turning those truths into lies.

Something was not right. Something was...

A bowl of steaming broth was set in front of her.

Patroka jerked away. Their white haired rescuer smiled, a soft smile that made Patroka melt. Jin nodded at the bowl in a silent, Eat.

The order grated on Patroka. Jin took her scoff with a smile, handing Akhos a matching bowl.

“Armu and noodle stew!” cheered the platinum haired man.

The blond woman gave a furious humph. “Jin, you devil! I thought you said we were all out of armu!”

“We are out of wild armu,” Jin hummed.

“My last dish wasn’t that bad!” the blond protested.

Patroka caught Akhos giving her a questioning look. Patroka returned Akhos’s look with a shrug. Yes, there was a chunk of conversation missing. No, Patroka did not know if she wanted to know.

“When you can cook a meal that does not require alcohol to wash down charcoal, then you may make dinner. Until such time, you will stick with deserts,” Jin stated, tone adding an air of command. The blond woman grumbled under her breath something about Jin being a tyrant. After he’d set her bowl before her, Jin gave the blond woman’s hair a tug in censure.

“As you command, O Kitchen Master,” the blond sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Mythra has gotten quite good with parfaits,” the platinum haired man confided in an aside to Patroka and Akhos. “Almost good enough to hold a candle to Jin! Very few can lay a similar claim. He’s an accredited five star chief, I’ll have you know.”

“That contest was rigged!” the blond woman challenged. She had been called Mythra, right? Patroka should try and remember, if only to keep from insulting the people keeping her and Akhos one bad day away from the executioner’s block. Mythra continued, “Mikhail was a judge! He’s biased!”

“Anyone who’s tasted Jin’s cooking is biased,” giggled the long haired red head.

“True,” Mythra conceded, calming enough to slurp a spoonful of noodles.

The platinum haired man banged the heel of his palm against his forehead. “Goodness! Where have my manners gone?” Turning to properly face her, the man offered Patroka his hand. “My name is Addam. Yours?”

Patroka stared at the offered hand. The look Addam was giving her reminded Patroka of a puppy: All perky and anxious to play. Gingerly, legitimately fearful the platinum haired Addam might run off with her, Patroka returned the handshake. “Patroka.” She nodded towards Akhos. “Akhos.”

“A pleasure,” Akhos nodded politely.

After releasing Patroka’s hand (without mauling it), Addam stood enough to reach over and shake Akhos’s hand. “A delight to meet you both,” Addam joyfully chimed, releasing Akhos’s hand and retaking his seat. “You both were exceptional distractions. We wouldn’t have been able to make off with the Core Crystals as smoothly without your timely assistance.”

“Assistance?” Patroka blinked.

“Grated, it wasn’t voluntary, per say,” Addam trailed off, only to rally with, “But the guards were in a right tizzy over your escaping. They never noticed we,” he gestured towards the others, “were on board. I dare say they’ll not realize ‘til they reached port just how badly they were swindled.”

“I’d wager when the Praetor gets the news, he turns a shade of chartreuse,” the dirty brown haired man chuckled.

“A shame we’ve no way to get photos or I’d take that bet,” Lora laughed.

“You’ve already met Lora,” Addam gestured to one of their rescuers. Lora waived back around her soup bowl. “Jin, Mikhail, and Malos, of course.” Each nodded or said hello as they tucked in to their meals. “This is Minoth.”

The dirty brown haired man hummed, “Pleasure,” around a slurping spoonful of broth.

Addam gestured to the redhead at the far end. “This is Haze.”

The redhead put her bowl down to give a chipper, “A delight to meet you both!”

“And last but not least, our resident grump, Mythra.”

“I thought Malos was the grump,” Akhos quipped.

Patroka shot Akhos a glare. It having been a long day was no excuse to let his mouth run off on automatic. At least everyone got a chuckle out of Akhos’s loose tongue.

“They trade off depending on the day of the week,” Addam stated, tone dry.

“Oi!” Mythra and Malos simultaneously protested. Answering giggles were hidden behind soup bowls and spoons.

Their protesting signaled open season on conversation. Lora and Mikhail regaled them with a vivid description of how they had snuck into the ship’s engineering room. When they got to the part on setting off the explosive which killed the engine, Mythra smacked her fist against the table. Commandeering the tale, Mythra began a diatribe on how the explosive was poorly timed and had nearly jeopardized her part of the mission. Minoth dovetailed off Mythra’s rant, turning the table towards dissecting the missions faults and successes.

“Could we have a little less jumping off ships next time?” Akhos requested.

“Was it the jumping or the landing?” Addam asked sincerely.

“Both,” Akhos answered promptly.

The discussion turned on Addam’s hum towards how best to fulfill Akhos’s request.

...oh damn it. Patroka could see what they were doing. They were trying to draw Akhos and Patroka into their little scheme. They were trying to recruit new members. Who better to recruit than castaways with no where else to go? The thought turned the otherwise good soup into ash.

I won’t be used!

“How long do you expect us to stay here?” Patroka demanded.

“Here, specifically, on the Monoceros?” At Patroka’s sharp affirmative, Addam replied, “As long as you like. Its not as though we’re pressed for room.”

“And if we want to leave?” Patroka asked; she ignored Akhos trying to kick her shin under the table.

“Tell us where to drop you, and we will, with as much supplies as we are able to provide,” Addam answered without hesitation.

Addam was either an accomplished liar or sincerely honest. Patroka liked neither option.

“You’ll need to lie low for a year,” Jin spoke up.

Minoth nodded, noting, “Indol doesn’t have the clout to force other countries into prolonged manhunts. You dodge them for a year, and your chances go up.”

“We can introduce you to some people who hate Indol more than anything,” Mikhail offered. “They won’t care who you are so long as keeping you puts one over on Indol.”

“They’re good people,” Lora hastened to add. “They won’t ask more of you than to pay your way with labor. It’ll be farm-work, mostly.”

Mythra tossed her spoon so it made a noisy clatter in her soup bowl. “You could stay on the Monoceros for a year.” Patroka glared at the group as a whole. Mythra rolled her eyes, “Please. This isn’t a recruitment drive. Like Addam said, its not like we don’t have the room. Plus it’d be nice to not have to do laundry or dishes for a while.”

“You’re not getting out of chores that easily,” Haze warned Mythra.

“Well duh. But two more hands would mean my turn won’t come up as often,” Mythra noted, grin minx sharp.

Haze opened her mouth to counter. She closed it on a thoughtful hum. Turning to better face them, Haze asked, “Are either of you good with needlework or wood-crafting? Another set of hands working on the costumes and props would be a great help.”

Addam used a polite cough to take back control of the conversation. Once he had their attention, Addam promised, “You are free people. You may choose what path you wish to take. You needn’t make a decision now. Today’s been a full day, and no one’s mind is up to taxing questions just yet. I’ll show you to the guest quarters?”

Patroka shoved her empty bowl aside. Akhos hesitated a moment before setting his bowl with Patroka’s.

Addam nodded. Rising to his feet, he gestured for Patroka and Akhos to proceed him towards the door.

That was how their first night on the Monoceros came to a close.

Chapter Text

The bridge of the Monoceros was the quietest spot on either the Marsanes or the Monoceros. When the Monoceros was docked, all functions were shifted to the Marsanes’s bridge. The Monoceros’s bridge stood empty, waiting, ready to be called. The only place as simultaneously attentive and silent was in the cockpit of a Siren Artifice. Given how the Sirens had become their refuge, they tended to be the first ones checked when people went looking for wayward family members.

A rolling brush of shadow-touched ether caressed his senses. Smiling, knowing he’d been found, Jin leaned into the sensation. The ether of a Master Blade always felt denser than any other Blade’s ether. It always felt thick enough Jin could fall into it like he would a mattress. The ether of Blades touched by a Master Blade was likewise denser, as though they were pulling minutely from the same more-than-ether Master Blades tapped as their birthright.

His baby brother nudged Jin’s shoulder as he settled onto the floor next to him. Jin didn’t bother to open his eyes as he accepted the glass of water Malos offered. A touch of his own ether added ice drops to both his and Malos’s beverages. Malos took a long, slow sip.

“The new guys settling in alright?” Malos asked. By which he meant was Jin adjusting alright to the two new ether patterns aboard their home.

“They’re hurt deeply.” Jin waited for Malos to scoff an affirmative. Akhos’s and Patroka’s scars pulled on the ether, scabs catching at rough cloth. If Jin felt the need to bandage their hurts like a grain of sand in his boot, Malos and Mythra must have felt it like a skin rash. Jin continued, “I think the superficial injuries are beginning to mend.”

“They better after a solid month of your cooking,” Malos humphed.

“Its hard for them to trust,” Jin warned.

Malos complained, “They thought you stuck poison in the roast!”

Jin sighed, recalling that particular incident. No one had know Patroka had an allergy to lentils until it was too late. Once more Haze had saved the day. Further, she had shown Akhos the healer’s trick to dealing with allergic reactions. Jin had quarantined all the lentils aboard their homes – but there was no guarantee a lentil wouldn’t make its way into meals on shore. The worst of it had been shock from the fact Patroka even had an allergy. As a Blade, such a thing was impossible.

“They lack the one thing we’ve always had,” Jin mused.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Malos challenged.

Jin looked his baby brother in the eye. “Hope.”

Wincing, Malos looked away. He took another long sip of ice water. After, he asked, “How’s work on those Judecium pods?”

Jin hummed. “Octpete and Mikhail have narrowed down their location. Our best window for extraction will be in when Temperantia passes over the dive point.”

“Two months?” Malos inquired.

Jin nodded. He warned, “Depending on the damage, it may take months to make them operational.”

“If we run into a time crunch, ask Aion to scan it. I know,” Malos cut off Jin’s look, “doing it ourselves is best. I agree we shouldn’t rely on the Artifices for everything. But I say we cheat if its a matter of life or death.”

Jin nodded, agreeing –

Lightning sharpness cut Jin’s senses. A bitter tang of ozone after impact feeling stunned.

“Akhos,” Jin reported.

Malos rolled to his feet, glass set safely aside. The Monoceros’s systems woke at his touch. A press of ether told Jin Malos was checking with more than just the Monoceros’s sensors.

“Huh.”

Jin likewise got to his feet. Malos stepped halfway aside so Jin could get a good look at the security feed. The image was clear enough for most details: Akhos standing in a doorway, the night dark hallway behind him casting him in bright relief. His jaw was hanging open as he took in the room’s contents. Steps slow with heady shock, Akhos walked further into the room. Jin’s eyes dropped to the camera label. His eyebrows rose in a curious bounce.

Malos looked at Jin. Jin looked at Malos. The brothers grinned.

Not even a slow unexplained chill crawling down Akhos’s spine could stop Akhos from stepping further into the holy room. Most plebeian fools would think this place a junk room. A place to toss unwanted things. To Akhos, it was a wonder beyond measure.

His fingers hovered over the shimmering sequins hemming a dress straight from Uraya’s dark ages. Wood fans wide as his torso, covered in cloth treated to look like silk, had mythical Titans running rampant across them. Their vibrant hues of green, blue, and violet looked untouched by time. When he got to the first book’s spine, Akhos lingered. Ten, twenty, eighty books on this one level alone. One, two – seven levels from floor to ceiling! All the stories. All the plays!

“I’ve died and gone to Elysium,” Akhos whimpered. He turned the corner around the stack.

And found them.

Two full sized dressmaker dolls stood side by side in the middle of the room. Around them it looked as though a dressmaker’s shop had exploded. Bolts of fabric fell from spools on the wall. Streamers of lace spread out like tinsel. Countless clothing-related paraphernalia scattered over benches, chairs, stuck to walls, to ceilings. But around the two dressmaker dolls was an oasis of clean floor. It was as if the very room had seen the perfection in the designs and willed they be left pristine. Akhos barely dared to breathe. He absolutely refused to approach.

The two were a matched pair of outfits. To Akhos’s right, the outfit was tailored for a woman. Not a bustier lady, no, but the support padding was present. The main outfit consisted of a white… tailed overcoat? Akhos was unsure of the particular design’s name. It had long sleeves which belled out starting from the elbows. Contrasting the tailed overcoat, dark armor made of leather formed a collar at the neck and added to support around the bust. Black stockings started from mid-thigh and went down to ankles where odd shoes completed the equally odd outfit. Two wooden blocks each as tall as Akhos’s hand was wide, one at the ball of the foot and one at the heel. Walking in those would be an exercise in patience.

Its mate on Akhos’s left was tailored for a male. Leather dyed blue edged in gold overlapped to form vertical shoulder guards. The armor itself was simple no-frills predominately blue reinforced leather accented in matching black leather. Gold accents were used to hide the necessary studs and stitches holding everything together. A simple cotton collar was used to look like the armor were more a formal suit was a nice touch. From the waist down was black accented in blue. Baggy pants allowed for significant mobility, but weren’t so baggy as to catch on underbrush. The matching boots came up to right beneath the knee. Self-consciously, Akhos flexed his toes over the edges of his borrowed sandals.

A hand slapped Akhos’s shoulder with force enough Akhos coughed. Chill returning down his spin, Akhos turned as slowly as he dared.

Minoth’s grin sent all sorts of alarms dancing through Akhos’s head.

“I see I have a volunteer to test my latest designs,” Minoth mused gleefully.

What Akhos wanted to say was, I’m sorry, I’ll leave. What came out of his mouth was, “Those boots look quite nice.”

“I can’t take credit for those. Haze was the one who cobbled them. She has a good eye for precision detail work,” Minoth mused. The grin had yet to reduce.

“The stitches are quite fine. Haze’s work as well?” Akhos inquired. The rational part of his brain pointed out he was being drug the wrong direction. Escape was away from the gorgeous workmanship.

“Hers and Mythra’s. Don’t look so surprised,” Minoth chuckled. “When Mythra decides she’s going to do something, it takes an act of the Architect to stop her.”

“Yes,” Akhos adjusted his glasses, “I had rather gotten that impression.” Now that he was close enough Akhos could see, “This armor is fit for combat?”

“All our costumes have to be. We learned that lesson after a monster dropped in during the climax of Angelia’s Odyssey,” Minoth snickered.

“Angelia’s – oh! That’s the story about the last lady of a dying Titan, isn’t it? The princess who discovered her husband had been carried off by Titan monsters?” Akhos inquired.

“Its a bit purple prose, but a good fallback. Lora does a fair impression of Angelia.” Minoth chuckled at a private joke. His full attention turned back on Akhos before Akhos could slip his hold. “You enjoy theater?”

“I enjoy any story I can get a hold of.” Akhos paused as his brain added up one and one and came up with two. “You’re actors?”

Minoth laughed, “A traveling troupe! Its a good way to make coin and stay unnoticed.”

“Not to mention a good way to collect information,” Akhos mused.

Minoth slapped his hand against Akhos’s back again. “What do you say, Akhos? Care to give your pound of flesh to the craft?”

Adjusting his glasses before they could slip further, Akhos figured, “I don’t think I’ve much of a choice.”

“No,” Minoth agreed, smile gaining a dark edge as he advanced, “you don’t.”

Malos cut off the video feed, gleefully wincing as he looked away. Jin was likewise chuckling around his own sympathetic wince. Everyone had learned quickly there were consequences for trespassing in Minoth’s domain. Being family might reduce the toll, but nothing would absolve the full price.

Akhos was doomed.

A buzzing in her ears woke Patroka. At first, the sound was foreign. Yet another subtle sound on this cursed ship she had to get used to. As the sound penetrated her sleep addled senses Patroka realized she recognized that sound.

Dread settled in her guts. She knew that squeal.

Oh Architect make him go away, Patroka prayed.

Gleeful pounding sounded on her door. Groaning into her pillow, Patroka drug herself from bed. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could go back to sleep.

Patroka snapped open the door, intent to yell for silence. Her mouth hung open as her brain attempted to contort what her eyes were seeing into an understandable form.

Hand to Elysium, Akhos honest to Architect squeaked, “They’re actors specializing in Coles!”

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Patroka at last got out.

Akhos bounced on the balls of his feet as though he hadn’t realized he looked like an idiot. ...no, wait. This was her idiot brother. He probably thought he looked fantastic. Akhos’s voice hit a hard to hear pitch as he squeaked, “I’m helping their props master with one of their new costumes!”

Patroka nodded slowly. Just as slowly, she looked Akhos over from booted feet to lunatic grin.

“No.”

Slamming the door failed to stop Akhos’s whined, “Patroka!”

“No!” Patroka repeated firmly. The problem with Akhos was he was too used to her machinations. Patroka was going to have to get creative to get him to drop this latest idiocy.

“They have weapons,” Akhos sing-songed.

One foot from bed, Patroka hesitated.

“Antiques. Made of actual steel.”

Knowing she was going to regret it, Patroka opened the door. “No stage props?”

“Enough sharp edges to start a war,” Akhos promised.

Architect damn it. Akhos was already doing a happy dance as Patroka’s resolve crumbled in a, “Let me get dressed.” Through the door she shouted, “It had better be live steel or I’ll run you through!”

Yes sister dear,” Akhos chortled.

Rolling her eyes, Patroka pulled together her day things. Siblings. Couldn’t live with them. Couldn’t kill ‘em.

Once every sixty days or so, a spot colloquially know as "the middle of no where" would be selected. On arrival the Marsanes would dive to its maximum safe depth. Its engines would be quieted; its controls passed to Aion. The Sirens would launch under the Cloud Sea to perform various tasks of their own. No fewer than three would orbit the Marsanes as an early warning system. The rest went off to the World Tree for specialized maintenance or to investigate spots on their own recognizance. Often times those heading out would return with otherworldly images of Alrest as seen from a height unfathomable. Those pictures were worth weeks staring at they were so captivating.

By group consensus, Akhos and Patroka were kept ignorant of the Sirens' independent activities. For their safety, the two were further kept unawares of the Marsanes's existence. It was thought the less they knew, the less risk they, and Torna as a whole, would be from Indol. It was kinder to be executed quickly than tortured to death.

Yes. Well. Not like it would come to that. Ever.

The mess doors opening pulled Addam from further morose musings. Minoth sailed in with the same determined look he would bring to missions where life balanced on a knife's edge. For Minoth, this would indeed be a fight for survival – as an artist. His writings were cut from his soul and so he brought all his skills to bare for their production. Sneaking in behind Minoth came Akhos. The youngster in a travel tan outfit moved as though he were worried he had no right to be present. Patroka had no such hesitations, having arrived with the rest of them. She gave her sibling an unamused look rather reminiscent of a bored cat.

Addam smiled. Akhos and Patroka were getting better, inch by inch. This might be just the push they needed to crack the last of the ice off.

"First day of spring. The new season starts today," Minoth declared. With a flick of his hand and look of his eyes, Minoth directed Akhos to start passing out bundled packets. Scripts! Taking the copy Akhos offered, Addam grinned. New scripts. The fresh paper crinkled delightedly at his touch.

"Are we doing Odyssey again?" Lora inquired, taking her copy from Akhos.

"This is one we haven't done," Minoth answered obliquely.

"This isn't one of the Shakespeare plays, right?" Mikhail asked, eyeing his scrip warily.

"It better not be," Malos humped.

"The McBeth one was fine," Addam commented. Though he added since Akhos and Patroka were unaware, "I do fully agree with the boycott on the others. Romeo and Juliet is far too depressing."

"Also disgusting given we're all related by Core or Driver," Mythra pointed out.

"Well, yes, there is that," Addam concurred.

Minoth cut off speculation by declaring, "This one dates back to Torna. A satire set before Angelia's Odyssey."

Addam's eyebrows bounced up, a grin threatening to split his face. "A new Cole original?"

Minoth's poker face was unimpeachable. "It was buried in the stacks."

Translation, Addam chuckled to himself, examining the script, I only just finished polishing my newest work.

One of these days, if Fates were kind, Addam would personally bring Akhos and Patroka in on the joke. For now, their knowing Minoth was Torna's master of stage would have to be enough.

"I thought you said you'd gone through every book we have?" Haze asked in sweet confusion. Addam bit his cheek to keep from snorting.

Minoth narrowed his eyes. Snickers threatened. "Your opinion on my organization skills have been noted," Minoth grumped. He thumped the master script copy. "Let's get the stage up. I want to start line rehearsals in half an hour."

"Already cast us ahead of time?" Lora asked rhetorically.

"The last open audition we had ended in a week long pillow fight," Minoth retorted.

"And one of our better performances," Lora countered. Mythra and Malos added cheers.

"Alright, enough chatter," Minoth groused. Putting action to words he headed for the stage supplies. As he moved, he intercepted Akhos and Patroka. "Not you two. I want you both in costume."

The duo's jaws dropped. Akhos was a study in breathless excitement. Patroka, an example of incredulity.

"Truly?" Akhos asked in abject wonder.

"I did not sign up for getting on a stage," Patroka snarled.

"We need to test the costumes' full range of motion. Can't do that in a dressmaker's hall," Minoth explained.

Patroka's eyes narrowed, deeply suspicious. Akhos was too excited to consider ulterior motives. The young man grabbed his sibling by the arm and bodily dragged her out the door. The two began arguing as the doors shut. The cadence of their speech was as familiar as the air Addam breathed. He had, after all, seen quite a few sibling spats over the decades.

Addam looked from Minoth's quirk of a smile to Haze's barely restrained glee. Addam proclaimed, tone joking, "You are both terrible."

"Addam!" Haze protested, laughing and waiving Addam's insinuation away. Minoth chuckled without further comment.

"Working for their armor will be good for them," Jin noted, the smile on his lips a near invisible twitch.

Malos jerked his thumb towards Jin, concurring. Mythra tacked on, "They wouldn't believe us if we just gave it to them."

Yes, well, they wouldn't, would they? Dozens of decades and Addam still was caught flat footed at times. The instincts of a Master Blade and their Blade Eater cousins were beyond his ken. He had an echo every now and then. A faint mist-hidden glimpse through the looking glass which was half Mythra's life. But an understanding? No. Addam doubted he would ever truly would.

Case in point: The Blades of Torna coming together and making armor whole cloth for their unexpected refugees. Malos and Mythra had drawn the template. Jin and Haze handled the leather-working. They had all taken a jab at the needlework, and Minoth had opened his domain to secret it away. True, Akhos had found it ahead of schedule, long before the armor could have been secured in supplies meant for the duo's departure. But the early discovery had lead to this fortuitous acting jaunt. Though what could Minoth have concocted which matched Tornan-style armaments...?

The suspicion hit, a hammer to Addam's jaw. Addam flipped through his script just to prove his nerves wrong.

Oh no.

"Minoth." At Mintoh's hum, Addam pointed to the damning stage description. "This needs to change at once."

There was a flurry of fluttering pages as everyone tried to find to the scene in question.

"Oh you didn't," Haze giggled in sweetly wicked glee.

"Oh he did," Addam confirmed.

Minoth, damn him, continued to grin.

"What did he...?" Mikhail began to ask. Haze pointed out the scene in her own copy. Addam could tell the instant Mikhail got to the part about the full formal royal regalia: The youngster near choked trying to keep his laughter contained.

"I am not playing Zettar," Addam fumed.

"You're not," Minoth agreed. His grin gained a wickedness tempered by fondness. "You're playing the king."

The very thought left Addam mute for hours.

The ship clock buzzed the hour.

Drawing herself to sit upright in bed, Patroka stared with bleary eyes at the clock. It was on the wall across the room farthest from herself. Too far to break in to silent pieces unless she got out her weapon. Glaring at the offending clockwork, Patroka extracted herself fully from bed. She shuffled over to the clock. It went silent before she could take a swing at it. Like it knew Patroka had been about to end it.

Considering the hour going back to bed would be pointless. By time Patroka fell asleep again, Akhos would be after her for breakfast. Sighing, Patroka shuffled over to the tiny washroom. After the first two months Patroka had stopped wondering why she had been assigned such a fancy room – a private toilet and sink was excessive luxury. No private shower; but, hell, it was more than she had expected.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror, Patroka paused in her ablutions. Her lips twisted in an unvoiced snarl.

Fuck my life.

Patroka resumed getting out of her barely there nightgown and back into work cloths. She hesitated for a heartbeat. The costume was tempting. It was comfortable. Protective. Like it had been made for her.

It was a trap.

Patroka left it where it hung without looking back.

The one thing typical about a day aboard the Monoceros was – there was nothing typical. They went through the required motions necessary to maintaining their home – Torna's home. Not hers, damnit! – and keeping life livable. Patroka had taken her turns at laundry, meal prep, and the drudgery of basic maintenance along with everyone else.

But there was always, without fail, some kind of random crap happening.

So when the sounds reached her of objects crashing to the floor, Patroka resigned herself to investigate. Not even to breakfast yet and things were already going off schedule.

Patroka stopped at the end of the hallway. It took her a minute to figure out what the hell she was starring at. There was a suit of some kind stretched out across the floor. Rubber tubes flopped around. Brass rings and metal canisters were rolling in various directions. A helmet in a corner? The one thing that made sense was Mikhail standing in the middle of the mess. Patroka had learned quick the teenager didn't have to go looking for trouble. Trouble found him.

Mikhail's head jerked up, expression shifting from resignation to surprise. The kid perked up like a puppy, tail wagging and way too chipper, as he saw Patroka. "Hi!" he woofed.

Patroka pointedly turned her eyes from Mikhail to the scattered mess.

"It's salvage day! I'm getting my gear ready for the dive," Mikhail explained.

Patroka blinked. Repeated slowly, "Salvage day?"

"Yeah! You want to come with?" Mikhail offered.

Patroka sighed, "Whatever," and headed towards Mikhail. So much for breakfast. Picking up the closest junk, Patroka asked, "What is this crap anyway?"

"Dive gear," Mikhail answered, way too chipper for this early in the morning. He paused, head tilting to the side so that obnoxious curl flopped over his eyes. "You haven't had breakfast yet?"

"So?" Patroka demanded.

Mikhail's hands plucked the junk out of Patroka's hold. "Go eat! The duty rosters all get changed on salvage day."

And the duty rosters were posted in the kitchen. Even with that logic, Patroka leveled a hand-on-hip glare at Mikhail. She was not about to let herself be handled. "Look, do you want help with this junk or not?"

"Yes...?" Mikhail drew the word out into a question.

Patroka snatched back the items Mikhail had claimed. "Then shut up."

After a few blissful minutes of silence, Mikahil said, "Hanger 1." And then he shut up.

Hanger 1 was a fair distance from the crew quarters, and the gear Mikhail was hauling weighed as much as a full grown man. Patroka did not let it phase her. She was a Blade. This was nothing. She was not going to stop until everything was in the damn hanger. Patroka was so focused she barely noticed the two looming Artifices watching her every move.

A wounded beast let out a pitiful cry.

Patroka froze when the sound happened again. A creeping heat started from her neck and worked its way up her face as she realized the sound was coming from her stomach.

"Don't," Patroka commanded.

Mikhail kept his mouth shut. His eyes sparkled as he laughed at her. Architect – she was going to kill him. Hide the body. It never happened if there were no witnesses.

Before Patroka could execute the kid, there was a polite cough at the hanger's door.

Mikhail's reaction did not divorce him from Patroka's mental image of a yapping puppy. "Hey Lora! Are you coming out on the dive?"

"Goodness no," Lora stage shivered, making her way into the hanger. "It's far too claustrophobic in those suits. And the stink! It sticks on you for days."

"It does not," Mikhail pouted.

Lora chuckled. She held up her right hand as she approached, showing off a cloth wrapped box. Instead of handing it to Mikhail, Lora placed it in Patroka's hands. "Akhos said you weren't in your room and I knew you hadn't been to the mess yet. A copy of the new roster is folded in, too," Lora explained.

"How did you know I was here?" Patroka asked. Sure she sounded paranoid – but these people were trying too hard to be nice. No one was ever this nice without a motive.

"Process of elimination," Lora answered with no hesitation. The woman rocked back and forth on her heels, interwoven fingers behind her back. "No one had seen you, and I hadn't seen Mik' yet. So! You were either with Mik', or we were going to go spelunking."

Spelunking. Torna's way of saying, Go search in the restricted areas. Areas allegedly not in use.

Patroka's stomach threatened to make that noise again. Without verbal comment, Lora directed Patroka over to a trunk or something set out on the hanger floor. Given that was the only seating around, Patroka headed for it. Lora said a few more things to Mikhail which Patroka ignored given it sounded like useless mush. What Patroka could not ignore was Lora coming over to sit next to her. Unwrapping the box, and tucking the schedule away in her shirt, Patroka affected to ignore Lora. Lora seemed to be returning the favor; her attention was on Mikhail as the kid started going over the assorted piles of junk with a critical eye.

"Do you have any interest in salvage work?" Lora broke the silence.

Patroka swallowed a bite of the egg and rice concoction. "No."

Lora hummed. Patroka chewed through breakfast.

"Did you want to go with Mik', or was that sleep head talking?" Lora inquired.

"I'm not wearing any costumes," Patroka vetoed.

"You can sit in Octpete," Mikhail offered.

Patroka choked, not sure what was more shocking: Mikhail paying attention, or the Architect damned offer.

"What?" Mikhail looked even more like a confused puppy.

Patroka put down breakfast. "You want me," she pointed at herself, "to sit in that," and pointed at the closer of the two Artifices. "The thing you said came from the World Tree itself."

"Yeah?" Mikhail's tone added a befuddled, Your point?

Patroka stared. She looked at Lora. Lora looked confused, too, but not concerned. Like Mikhail's suggestion was unexpected but not alarming.

"In the thing I could use to kill you?" Patroka spelled out.

Mikhail and Lora both snorted as though they'd heard a joke. Patroka opened her mouth to demand what the hell – there was no way Torna was comprised of idiots –

The Artifice fucking moved.

Patroka's breakfast went hurtling towards the moving monster in a stupid attempt at distraction. Patroka herself had her weapon at guard and as much distance as she could get inside a heartbeat. Lora yelped. Mikhail yelled, "Wait!"

"Stop."

A weight of a glacier. A thunder of a hurricane.

It was not a command. It was a strong suggestion. Patroka could still move – did move to put more distance between herself and the Artifice. But the overriding flight-or-fight panic bled out of her under the press of the icy storm. Out the corner of her eye, over the edge of her shoulder, Patroka saw Jin glide into the hanger. The white clad man moved as quiet as a ghost yet his presence was as demanding as a mountain.

"Octpete, sweets, she didn't mean it like that!" Mikhail rambled, putting himself between Patroka and the Artifice. With his back to Patroka's blade what the fuck. Mikhail ran on, "Patroka doesn't know anything about Artifices except the basics! She doesn't even know the basics! It was a tactical assessment!" Mikhail hesitated. "Right?"

"You do not give your enemies the keys to your warships," Jin concurred, tone level.

Mikhail pointed at Jin in an exaggerated bounce. The puppy paused. Turned so that he had a clear view of Patroka while still facing the Artifice. And asked in a confused, concerned tone, "You think you're our enemy?"

Patroka's spear brushed the ground. Patroka's jaw was right behind it. It took a handful of tries for Patroka to exclaim, "You don't know I'm not!"

Mikhail's wounded, worried look was a weapon all its own.

“I’m an unknown,” Patroka continued. Had no one taught this kid basic tactics? He was about to get an education now. “All you know about me is Indol planned to execute me. You don’t know where my allegiances are. You have no reason to trust me. I could be an Indoline spy for all you know!”

“You’re not nearly a good enough actor to be that,” Lora tossed in. Her disbelieving snort matched Mikhail’s dubious look.

“Your allegiances lie with your family. I don’t need to know more than that,” Mikhail stated.

Patroka stared. She stared as Mikhail wiggled under her look. She stared as Lora shifted where she sat. She stared as Jin walked over to collect Patroka’s thrown breakfast dish. Patroka stared for so long, the affronted Artifice settled down into a contemplative watch.

“How are you not dead?” Patroka whimpered.

Mikhail blinked. Jin snorted. Lora snickered.

“How are none of you dead?” Patroka demanded at large. “You’re all… all…!”

“Idealistic?” Lora offered.

Patroka nodded dumbly. Personally she would have gone for idiots but she was too stunned to say so.

Lora shrugged, humming, “Mmm. We just are.”

Patroka dropped her weapon, dumbstruck.

“So… You want to come on the dive?” Mikhail broke the frozen silence.

Numb, Patroka mumbled, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Great!” the puppy yapped. Mikhail was off talking a mile a minute about the different parts of the dive suit.

Patroka felt the epiphany hit, a landslide knocking reality into focus. All the bits out of place. All the weirdness. It all made sense. Torna was acting so kind to Akhos and herself – because they were too stupid not to.

Unnoticed by Patroka, Jin was – quietly – busting a gut laughing.

The night was young. The first snowfall of winter filled the grim gray sky of Gormott. The chill drove one and all to hearty hearths, wherever those may be. Woodsmen back from logging trips were anxious to get their feet by fires. Merchants with voices raw from a day’s peddling craved soothing brews.

The tavern was packed to the windows. It was a wonder the ten of them had room to breathe much less indulge. But thanks to a short lived brawl involving a man trying to goose the fairer half of their party, Torna had room enough to spare.

“Here’s to the end of a successful season!” Addam led the cheer.

Raising their mugs, they gave a hearty roar: “Cheers!” Their beer threatened to spill over as their mugs collided. In a single wave, the mugs were brought to lips.

It was good beer, Akhos mused. Just enough of a bite to know there was alcohol in it. A nice bouquet, too. Some sort of berries. He should have felt outlandish sitting in a tavern, he and his cohorts still in full costume. Instead Akhos felt…

Akhos took another drink before the thought could finish.

Addam startled. “Right! Before I forget! Now I know I have them somewhere...”

“Some days I think you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached,” Mythra quipped.

Addam waived at her in a command to, “Hush you.” The blond leaned against Haze and Lora and cackled wickedly instead. After some hasty wiggling and patting down of himself, his costume pockets, and the seat itself, Addam declared, “Ah-ha! Here we have it!” Addam held up two identical black pouches each the size of his fist. He shook them hard enough Akhos could hear their contents jangle. Then, with a chipper, “Your cuts!” Addam tossed them on the table.

Akhos stared at the one where it had landed in front of him. Its mate was in front of Patroka. Setting aside his drink, feeling strangely cold, Akhos picked up the pouch. Opening it a crack confirmed what Akhos had assumed… nay. What Akhos had feared.

It was a coin purse.

Misreading Akhos’s expression, Addam hastily assured him, “Your costumes are included in your pay, of course.”

Akhos swallowed a dry throat. Keeping his costume would be… nice.

“It hasn’t been a year,” Patroka pointed out.

“They discontinued that paper type eight weeks ago,” Jin reported. Though the words were in code, Jin kept his tone soft enough not to carry through the tavern’s din.

Indol was still and would always be after Flesh Eaters. But they were no longer as keenly interested in Akhos and Patroka. They could leave.

...they could leave.

An elbow jostled Akhos. Startled into looking over, Akhos met Minoth’s worried eyes. The older Flesh Eater lifted his mug in a questioning salute. A silent, Are you alright? The kind a mentor might give their student.

Akhos looked down at his mug. His fingers traced an absent pattern along the rim. Minoth’s story. The Judicium pods. The story of Torna itself. Akhos had no illusions the stories he had heard were all abridged.

I want to know those stories in full. I want to write. To perform plays like this. Live like this. I…

Akhos downed what was left of his mug in a desperate drag. He opened his mouth to speak.

“We’re staying on for another season.”

Akhos’s mouth stayed open. A questioning, “eh?” escaped him. Those were the words he wanted to say – but they certainly had come from the last person he’d expected.

“What?” Patroka asked defensively, hunching over her drink. “The pay is good.” Her sharp eyes narrowed at all and sundry. “And its not like you don’t need the help.”

“We’d be delighted to have you,” Haze gushed gleefully.

“Both of you,” Minoth added warmly.

“For as long as you’ll let us keep you,” Addam promised.

Akhos closed his jaw. His eyes started to burn. From the alcohol, of course.

“Welcome home,” Jin’s quite voice murmured seemingly right in Akhos’s ear.

Letting himself get buried in a bear hug from Malos and Mikhail with only a token protest, Akhos couldn’t stop grinning. Patroka gave a halfhearted push against Lora and Haze as they sandwiched her into a hug with Mythra. Akhos and Patroka… They were Torna.

They were home.