Archive of Our Own

As their fleeing came to a skidding stop, both Ogrim and Mato fell over as it felt like everything was shaking.

Hegemol’s helmet slid but thankfully did not go far.

Mato gulped some deep breaths, trying to shake away the memories of his brother’s old kindness. He had to quickly because he heard Ogrim heave.  

Mato moved to Ogrim’s side as he coughed and tried to sit up but struggled. “Ogrim, are you alright?!” He gave his back a firm pat.

This made Ogrim cough a bit more, but eventually he could gasp. “It’s- that sweetness- that strange warm sweetness in the air with the spores. I went too fast-” He gasped between sentences, trying to hit his chest and get the strange feeling out.

“Feels sickening-”

Fear gripped Mato quickly, and he helped Ogrim sit properly up. “Do you need some water?-” Ogrim nodded before Mato could say anything more.

Mato pulled the supplies out from under his cloak, making sure not to drop Dryya’s nail. He grabbed their water and handed it to Ogrim, allowing him to drink and get the rest of the gunk out from his throat. 

When he came up for breath, Mato noted that Ogrim did not open his eyes. He knew he was strained, but in the state of the world, Mato was scared.

“Ogrim, stay awake.”

Ogrim cleared his throat, and murmured, “I’m awake.”

“We’re awake.” Mato put his hands on his shoulder. “We’re awake and we’re fine.”

“We are awake and we are fine,” Ogrim repeated this with emphasis but hiccuped right after. The hiccup made his eyes open and it was quite unpleasant. 

“Gah!” He gave Mato back the near-empty water to rub at his eyes. They stung because of the sudden acidic pressure.

“It’s been too long! I used to be used to this-” 

Mato didn’t feel the extent of this stinging, likely thanks to his mask. But his heart ached because he had no idea how to help. 

They both sat and breathed until it became somewhat easier. Ogrim kept wiping his eyes until he could blink and simply adjust. Him just sighing sadly made a spike of pain hit Mato, but he tried to ignore that. 

Strength. Be his strength, Mato.

Ogrim let his claws down, testing his eyes. Reflexive tears fell down them and Mato knew not to wipe them or else he could reset his pain. 

“My gods, this place is the worst.”

“Agreed…” Mato looked up at the crossroads exit they fell from, wondering how things got so bad so fast.

Ogrim had an inkling and it made his heart race, but he didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to get to the city and get to the resting grounds. 

The state of the Vessel can be something he’ll worry about after he lets this go.

“We should…get away from this area. In case it spreads below this border.” Ogrim said, taking slow breaths.

Mato nodded, making sure their stuff was properly gathered. Ogrim grabbed Hegemol’s helmet and gave it a caring hug to his chest before settling it in one claw.

Every little gesture like that Ogrim made only made Mato’s wall grow taller. It’d be the perfect support.

They made their way down the fungal groves, ignoring the distant groaning chittering of random caves and the peeps of young Shroomfolk. They both hoped if they didn't bother them, they would not attack them.

Memories floated about as they walked carefully around acid lakes and deeper down. Between brothers and beloveds, both of their minds were full of the past as they tried to be present with each other.

It was a long way to walk and there was a lot of people they wished they were walking with as well, even though they cared for the other.

Their legs were getting tired already. Being quiet was scary too, so Mato tried to think about anything to talk about that wouldn’t topple them.

“I haven’t seen some of these fungi in ages.” He started but wasn’t sure if it was the best conversation starter when Ogrim took a while to reply to it.

“It grew on the edges of the Waterways. I think it’s more abundant in the more southern wastes.” Ogrim shrugged, not looking at him. He moved Hegemol’s helmet to the other claw, keeping up the leading pace because he wanted to get to the City as fast as possible.

“Ah. Fascinating…” 

A fungoon groaned at them, trying to shoot them with strange orange spores. “Guh!” Ogrim stopped, moving out the way as fast as he could with full claws.

Mato huffed, drew his nail, and with a leap off the edge did a spinning slash at the round creature, killing it with one strike. He landed below with a thud, but at least it was on his feet.

“Impressive…your reaction time is better than mine at the moment, aheh…”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“...right.”

Ogrim gave Mato a bit of a strained smile and realized a chain behind him. “Wait a moment.” Ogrim jumped down and made his way to the wall. There was a chained door there.

“I recognize this...hold on!” He put a claw to it, moving one of the chains but he knew he couldn't remove it.

He turned to Mato. “I’m a moron, Mato!” 

“What?! No no, you very much aren’t-” But before Mato could defuse that self-deprecation, Ogrim turned away and waved at the door. “This is a root-forsaken lift! On the other side: There’s one in the crossroads we could have taken into the city!” 

Mato thought about that. It was true, he had fuzzy memories of being taken on it as a child. 

“Well, it’s…” Mato looked at the Helmet and the lumafly flickered. “If we took that route, we would have not found those maggot siblings and a trace of Hegemol. And then it's a longer path. We barely fled fast enough to not have that strange ailment knock us to our knees with its poisonous branches.”

Ogrim took in his words. “Wise…” He gave the helmet a pat. “The gate to the heart is close anyways. I do want to get this over with as fast as possible…”

“Getting to the city, or just…everything?”

Ogrim didn’t answer that, just giving Mato a look that said “Which do you think?”

“I see…”

They kept going south until they saw what looked like slimy tall mushrooms sprout out of the ground. They paused and looked at it, disturbed by the noise it made.

“Are these…”

One spit out a ball and it spun around in the air, and when it touched the ground it combusted into an orange fireball!

“AH!” Both men screamed as it shot out another. Mato went to draw his nail again, but Ogrim yelled, “Mato do not strike them! It will eviscerate your arm!”

This stern yet care-driven criticism at a point of stress made Mato’s heart pulse in a deep-seeded pain, but he could not cry here. That was not his place.

So without thinking, Mato grabbed Ogrim’s free claw as hard as he could and pulled him into the fray.

“Mato!” Ogrim squawked as they rushed through the room, thankfully outrunning the bursts but the heat on their backs was terrifying.

Ogrim felt like the resounding BOOM was going to etch itself into the side of his head but they barely tripped onto a long walkway and Ogrim was able to safely pull his arm free from Mato’s tough grip.

“Agh- Mato my claws are still tender from…everything,” Ogrim admitted, and put down Hegemol’s helmet to rub them against each other. 

This made Mato’s pain worse. It was no physical one, it was like his brain had a wound he had tried to bury and bandage and it was bleeding through it.

And he tried to mentally plaster it once more, but the thoughts that came with the wound were already loud.

Though after a life of practicing: he at least knew how to keep a straight face as it happened. Or at least he tried to.

Why must you always find a way to be forward and hasty? What if Ogrim had a plan to get through that?

Y ou pain him. You know you do. You can see it in his face, he will think of you and think about this before anything else. 

Was this his idea or yours? Trying to fix everything but all you manage to do is either be in the way, off to the side in the shadow or make it all worse.

You should just stop. Just stop it, Mato. Stay out of the way and let Ogrim do what he must do. Lest he comes to despise you at the end of all of this. Lest he leaves when it's over.

That’s not your call to make anyways, have you thought it was? It’s up to him. It will just matter that you’re actually somewhat pleasant to be around. So act like it.

“Mato?”

Stop staring at him like an oafish rock and open that mouth of yours. 

Ogrim walked to him and sighed. He gave him a pat on the shoulder that made him feel zapped. “Thank you for protecting me. Are you alright to press on? That was very quick very fast after our crossroads experience.”

Mato was stunned. Ogrim’s anger melted away fast! It wasn’t there in the first place but Mato thought he was livid for a moment!

“Oh uh! Uhm- Yeah. Yeah, you’re welcome- Let’s…” Mato avoided eye contact and that let him see a sign that had city markers. “We’re close to the city gates.”

Ogrim nodded, giving him another little tap and they both kept on walking. 

They came up to a big expanse with a plethora of purple springy mushrooms. “Looks like we’ll have to go down around…” Ogrim hummed, taking the lead again.

“Alright…”

The room was very tall and a slip could send them into a hot pool of acid, so they went down as carefully as they could.

Mato wanted to mention how these mushrooms were staples of his childhood, but the thought made his throat close.

Mato and Oro would run on ahead, leaping on them. The training hall was once near here before it closed. It was where they spent their days even before they started training. They’d eat their breakfast happily and watch Sly teach his next students.

“I’ll race you to the Mushrooms! Whoever jumps the slowest is a rotten slugball!” Mato would yell and Oro would chase him. “You look like a slugball!” He’d insult and Mato would just laugh.

“At least I’m not rotten like you!” They both climbed on the mushrooms and bounced up and down. They bounced up to the tall mushrooms, giggling the entire way. 

They kept shooting joking insults at each other. Letting the other know that they would never jump higher and they would win in all the jumping contests they would hold.

“Brothers, please come back! You’re making Dad mad!” Sheo, ever the worrywart, would call at them, and get a raspberry in return.

“ Be careful!! The water here is bad!” Sheo waved his hands, trying so hard to get their attention but got nothing but more fart noises. At best, pleas for him to join them!

Mato and Oro just kept jumping, until they heard the snapping of fingers and a clearing of the throat. 

“Oro and Mato get down from there this instant!”

Still bouncing, the two boys got to see Sly staring at them with anger lacing his antenna. Sly had only recently adopted them so they were struggling with knowing when to listen.

Oro kept bouncing and Mato wasn’t sure if he could stop even if he wanted to. Sly waited for a moment and then crossed his arms. 

“I’m giving you two a warning. You better come down here right now! That’s not safe!” He scolded, pointing down. They just kept jumping so Sly sighed and said,

“If you two fall, I’m going to laugh. DOWN. NOW. I’ll give you to the count of ten to get off!” That startled them, making at least Mato try to slow his leaps. 

Sly started counting. He did it as slow as he could as Mato scrambled to catch the mushroom to get down. Oro called him a loser for it, but Sly was already past eight!

He had to listen!

Mato stared at the mushrooms as he and Ogrim climbed down. He could still remember blubbering to Sly because he had gotten to at least four.

He wondered what Sly was up to. He always wondered what all of them were up to. He wondered if they were wondering what he was doing.

He wondered if they’d guess it would be what he’s doing now.

With a shake of his head, he mentally closed his wandering thoughts midway. His eyes stung but he had to stop wondering.

He had to think about Ogrim and be alert for him. Thinking about being alert made it hard to actually be alert but he tried.

He thought over and over “Focus for Ogrim, Focus for Ogrim.” That he was a hundred percent unfocused. 

Meditating always helped him regain his focus but he knew he couldn’t sit down in the middle of the pathway. It was too bumpy, took too long and he’d concern Ogrim. 

So he hissed a deep breath, blinking some annoyed tears out into his mask.

“Mato?” Ogrim adjusted Hegemol’s helmet, steadying himself to look at him. Mato snapped back into focus as fast as he could.

“Ah, yeah?” Mato tilted his head.

“Are you okay?” 

Mato did not expect Ogrim to ask him that question exactly. He waved his hands, making a “psh!” noise.

“Oh yes, yes! I think the acid’s sting has made its way under my mask. I’ve been through worse but you are correct in it being annoying!” Mato rubbed at one of his mask’s eyeholes.

“Oh…” Ogrim jumped down a ledge and poked one of the mushrooms. 

Oh, how Mato wished he was still small enough to bounce...

“When we get into the city we ought to just…stand in the rain and let our eyeballs rinse for a while. Then we can scoop out the spore water and throw it back into this annoying place.” Ogrim joked, and Mato only gave a sensible chuckle.

“It can keep its meddlesome spores and acid!” Ogrim softly laughed, and Mato was glad he could. He wasn’t sure of the last time Ogrim felt well enough to make a joke…

This was progress. Mato was happy. He really was. He took a deep breath as they got to the ground level. A sign beckoned them and they walked towards its arch.

Ogrim walked up to it and put his claw on it. It was shaking.

“Here ends the Pilgrim's Way.

Hallownest's Heart lays open before you.

Proceed onward to share in its glory.”

Ogrim remembered what it was like to see the city in its current state. He shook more just thinking of it.

Slipping about the puddles desperately looking for shreds of familiarity or a kind face and getting absolutely nothing.

Going back in…he was scared.

Its glory had been squandered and all he wanted was a bit of it to be as it was but he was one bug. He couldn’t change it all. 

All he could do was…go in, get through and get out alive. So he can put his dear friends to rest.

Maybe Hegemol returned here to get some supplies. He can fly very fast without getting tired!

And Ze’mer could be anywhere but she could be about the city! Maybe! 

…But, for certain, he knew of one that laid below the city and it scared him.

“Isma…” He whispered to himself, steeled himself, and started walking forward. Her indescribable entirety filled his mind. He missed her so badly, he could hardly comprehend it.

He wasn't sure how he'd even speak of her.

Mato reached his hand out a bit, cursed himself, put it down, and just quietly followed him. A whisper was not a need for intervention, do not be hasty and speed up. Do not be slow, Nailmaster.

The mental wound groaned at him, but he willed it to shut up. They kept walking onto the bridge. 

Ogrim surprised himself when he looked up to the thorns that laced the ceiling. Only a small fool could brave that climb.

The vines made him think about one of his first times on the way. When they were revising it and making it better. He made this walk with Isma…

It was while the bridge was still being built. Safety measures were yet to be in place and the metal was able to be walked on but when Ogrim walked across it he was nervous about scuffing it. It was that new.

Isma was ahead of him, using her power to push flora around to give the builders plenty of room to put up any signs or edges they wanted to put on this tunnel. She pushed acid up, making it burn away bits of rock to make the tunnel neat and smooth. 

“Hey, Isma…?” Ogrim asked, and she turned to him, acid still floating in her hands. “Yes, Ogrim?” He was surprised it was practically in her hands but he supposed it couldn't harm her. 

Her immense kindness and control was something Ogrim strived to achieve.

“I don’t mean to police or busybody you, but the acid is quite low on the bridge. Is it supposed to settle down there?” Isma lowered the acid she was holding down and saw that it was a very low pool of it.

“It was like that naturally…”

“That’s quite dangerous for any young ones who may be crossing the bridge. Any uncoordinated or small citizen could get injured or worse!” Ogrim’s concern was loud and Isma nodded, taking it in. 

“Someone could not see it and fall in…Here!” She held out her arms, vines on the back of her head raising. Her eyes glew green for a moment and with a claw-like grip, she pulled the acid from the earth below!

It flowed upwards, rising right near the top of the bridge. “WHOA-”

Isma put her hands down and smiled at him. “How’s that!” She gave a little clap.

Ogrim put up his claws and said as kindly as he could. “I was gonna suggest- We talk to the menders about putting a railing on…” 

Isma’s head vines lowered, a bit dejected. “Oh…” She glew once more and moved to lower it back down.

Ogrim shook his claws, stopping her gently. “No no no! Don’t get rid of it, it’s so pretty! We can do both!” He held her hand and she just looked up at his pleading face.

Her eyes smiled and she just put her hand to her face to laugh. 

She laughed brightly for so long…

Ogrim allowed his eyes to water even though it made them sting again. Her laughter…it in his memory. It was so warm but its sound was fading and it hurt.

What he would give to hear it one more time. He wouldn’t even care what made her laugh, it could be anything and he’d be the happiest dung beetle to ever come out of the bellows. 

He tried to take a deep breath as Mato taught him, but he had to let himself get in one sob. 

That made Mato snap out of his own head a bit more, and he made his way to his direct side. He put his hand on his shoulder, but Ogrim shrugged him off. “It’s alright- it’s alright- This is just… such a special place…”

Ogrim turned and walked slowly backwards. “I never thought I'd find my way back here after it all-it's just. A lot, and I’m not sure what I’m going to find- so-”

Mato quietly regarded him, not knowing what to say. “We’ll find what you need, my friend…we will…”

Ogrim nodded, turning around. “I hope we find out what that is.” He sighed, not paying attention to where he was walking until shade fell over them.

A wall then made itself known to Ogrim’s forehead and he rammed right into it. 

“AH-” He stumbled backward, and he would’ve fallen if Mato didn’t immediately catch him and steady him.

Ogrim looked up at the massive gate and then, in his confusion, looked left and got startled when he saw Hegemol’s face.

“AH!” He yelled again but didn’t fall this time when he realized it was the same as the helmet he was carrying.

“OH IT’S A STATUE-” Ogrim loudly breathed, allowing Mato to hold onto him lightly. “I don’t remember when this was erected, oh gods, these things are plotting against my life.”

Mato made a displeased groan at that kind of humor, but Ogrim shook it off. “This is the way into the city…I didn’t think it’d still be blocked off…”

He examined the statue and touched one of the chains. “How to get in…”

Ogrim didn’t notice Mato kneel in front of the heavy door. He drew his nail and thought for a moment.

“ If I wedge my nail underneath, I can lift the metal until one of us can grab a chain and pull it open. It will take a while but I can do it for him. Let’s see…” Mato stuck his nail down and was able to get it under, but got concerned when it started to bend a bit instead of raising the door.

“Hm…” 

He took a harsh breath when he heard Ogrim put down the helmet. He looked up, hoping not to see him despondent.

Instead, he saw him feeling the ground below him. This confused Mato, and he got a shock when he heard him murmur, “I can work with this…” Ogrim flicked his head, neck cracking just a bit.

With a swipe, Ogrim began digging.

“Oh!” Mato gasped, pulling his nail out and standing as Ogrim went straight into the ground, forming a tunnel.

“Ogrim!” Mato called, wondering if he got to the other side.

That Ogrim did, popping out and surveying the dim cave’s contents. “Can you fit in the tunnel, friend?”

Mato didn’t think he’d ever be asked that question but he said, “I’m near the same size as you so most likely, but it will force you to leave the helmet behind!” 

Ogrim hummed and looked at his claws. They were still sore but he couldn't leave it or Mato to be stuck over there.

Selfishness couldn’t keep weighing on him. He grabbed chains and tugged a few of them.

Eventually, he found one with some slack and grabbed it as firmly as he could. “Grab the helmet and get ready!” 

Mato fumbled a bit as he heard the chain tug. He grabbed the helmet and watched with bated breath as the door started to rise.

Mato stood firm and straight as he waited for it to rise enough for him to walk through.

Ogrim managed to get it quite a way off the ground, huffing the whole way with effort.

It stalled when it was about halfway to Mato’s abdomen and he just…stood there. 

Ogrim tried to pull again but he couldn’t get it any higher. He opened his eyes from the effort and saw Mato waiting for it to rise more. 

In the stress of the action, Ogrim held it firmer and scolded him, “Nailmaster, I presume you know how to bend, yes?!” 

Mato’s frame shook with guilt as he realized he could've done that quite a while ago. “Oh, oh my I am so sorry!”

Mato bent over and walked under the gate. Once he was on the other side, Ogrim was able to safely drop it with a resounding TH UD!

“Gahhh, I haven’t pulled like that in a while! Aheh!” Ogrim laughed in pain, waving his claws to get the rusted gross feel off of them. The chains rubbed it off on him and he was surprised he didn’t fall over from the force of strength! 

“Ogrim, please don’t strain, especially not for me! I could have figured something out!” 

“I’ll be alright. You’d do the same for me.” Ogrim waved down, but Mato still felt so remorseful for just completely missing such a simple action he could have done to make it easier.

You couldn’t have ducked sooner? You really needed him to spell that out for you, how embarrassing!

His claws are going to crack under the pressure of holding himself up if you make him do more things for you! You’re here to help him, he is not here to help you! 

Everyone would be disappointed.

Mato threw these thoughts from the wound away and handed Hegemol’s helmet back to Ogrim.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing alright. I can handle anything that comes my way, so please do not worry about me.” He gave him a smile and a little point up to make it feel nonchalant. “Just worry about yourself, my friend. We’ll get through it.”

Ogrim looked away for a moment, not sure how to feel about that. “Okay…” 

They made their way into the city. The tears of the lake above made themselves known as they walked through the first of many storage areas leading into the main passway.

Drips fell onto their heads, leaking through the infrastructure. They both let out sighs, the mood and colors immediately fatiguing them more than the entire journey has so far. 

Both of them had a strange feeling in their lungs and knots in their stomachs as the rain grew louder.

They made sure they were ignored by the bumbling husks and the guard was nowhere to be seen in this area.

The patrol must be shifting. 

Even after all this time…Ogrim was proud of the dedication that still filled their soul.

He remembered holding Isma's hand as he watched squads of them earn the right to guard the city in their names.

Mato looked at the abandoned wagons and remembered when Sly had packed all of their childhood into one to move him and his brothers to a larger home.

He gripped the side of his cloak and then hugged it closer together in a way that would make Ogrim think he was simply cold.

Ogrim looked at the still bright lumafly lamps and remembered when he and Hegemol would talk about his favorite thing to fix. It was lamps, no question.

He hugged the helmet again. He hoped and prayed to anyone still able to listen that he would get some proper answers to where they are. 

Through the wide hallways, they eventually found their way to the elevators. The windows also mesmerized Mato but Ogrim was used to the city. He was very familiar with this water.

When Ogrim didn’t stop and look with him, Mato kicked himself and kept following. The two of them went down the elevators, spotting an old wet bench along the way. 

Mato felt stupid when this was the time Ogrim decided to peer out of the long window. Now they were looking, okay. Mato would get a social read right again soon, he swore to himself.

“There's more husks out there and a few guards. They’ll likely act violently towards us so we should do our best to still avoid them. Especially the guard.” Ogrim warned Mato.

“I helped Hegemol train some of them. You’ve no clue what they can do now that they have that ravenous disease burning them inside out…” 

Mato pointed backwards to his nail. “I think I've worked quite hard to try to understand exactly how to dispatch them.”

Ogrim made his way to the elevator but gave him a very small smile when he said. “Well, I believe that, but let us try not to put them down without outright need. Please?”

Mato blushed, wondering if that too was overstepping. “Ah, yes yes. I won’t hurt them if I can help it.”

“Then we’re in agreement.” Ogrim waved for him to join him on the lift.

Mato clicked the lever and as they went down they could finally feel the extent of the rain. It splashed lightly on them from inside the elevator as they moved down.

The city’s majestic view filled them with a sense of dread or intimidation, but being close to one another helped.

When they reached the bottom, Mato looked west and Ogrim looked east.

Mato had to will himself to ignore the nail sign. He couldn’t fall into his own trappings nor go explore on his own and he doubted Ogrim would want to detour for him.

Ogrim couldn’t see it quite yet but he knew for a fact that a good hike in front of him was the door to the waterways.

A door to the place he broke his oath. A circle hatch that going through was the worst thing he could’ve done to himself and he wasn’t sure if he could handle going back.

Would he feel compelled to descend again? More than he already has? 

Would that help?

He wasn’t sure. He and Mato both turned to look at each other, and he knew that Mato could read his stress like a book.

“I think. If I remember correctly from my father taking me there, we can find a lift to the Resting Grounds in the eastern city area.” Mato pointed, and Ogrim nodded.

He’s been there countless times too. This wasn't the first time he had to bury a person but it certainly hurt a lot worse in comparison. 

He did pray constantly to those common warriors lost in the battles he’s led.

“...Let us go.” Ogrim held the helmet to his chest, and Mato patted his shoulder. They made their way into the storm, cautiously. 

They had no clue what waited for them there, but they knew it was very much doused in a high amount of water. 

Vengflies also bothered them as they made their way through. Mato almost slipped in the water while swatting one away but Ogrim steadied him, making him blush more.

He wanted to handle himself, he had to handle himself. 

They heard the sounds of the guards, hums, and grunts in step, but they tried to stay out of their path.

“There’s the next building, we’re close to a nearly dry spot.” Ogrim pointed, making sure to look down so he wouldn't slip in the ever-running water below him.

Mato huffed a sigh, thankful for that. The water was soaking the fluff of his cloak and kicked up the waterlogged smell of stone so it just smelled like molded moss here. 

The smell of old moss always bothered Mato. He liked fresh moss and dry stone. 

They rushed under the building and took deep breaths as they shook the water off of themselves. Ogrim pawed at his helmet, rubbing the water into his armor.

“Gods, do I love being wet!” 

“Gods, I hate being wet!” 

Ogrim and Mato spoke at the same time, Mato’s sentence startling Ogrim.

Mato growled, trying to wring some of the water out of his cloak to little avail. Mato tried his best and as he was attempting to comfort himself he realized what he said out loud. 

“Oh, ah, I’m not saying you enjoying the water is wrong! I like water just not this much with my cloak on, you know- It’s just- yeah, it's nothing!” 

“It’s water, Mato? Whatever our opinions are is nothing to get worked up about. Being upset that your clothing got wet is alright.”

“That’s right! So I’ll just, we’ll just move on and I’ll be quiet about it.” Mato smiled, shrugging it off. 

Ogrim watched him start walking through the room, and had to ask, “Is something on your mind, Mato?”

Mato didn’t turn, giving another shrug. “You do not need to worry! My mind is fully dedicated to just getting on through this place with you!”

He waved backwards, but yelped when his leg slipped and he fell into a hole he did not see.

“Ah!” Ogrim put down Hegemol’s helmet to help Mato not fall straight into the waterways.

“Oh, gods…” Ogrim breathed, holding Mato as he stood back up. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t be clumsy or ridiculous. Let’s go-” 

Mato tried to let it go, but Ogrim just quietly walked around it and touched the king’s symbol on a circle cover.

“This is the entrance to the Royal Waterways, Mato…this is where I was stuck for so long…”  

Mato’s heart dropped as Ogrim knelt, falling into thought. “This place is where I emerged after…finding out what happened.”

He didn’t want to say what he thought out loud. He left after finding Isma, but he did not want that mental image back in his head. He moved the cover back and forth, the old hinges squeaking.

He was going to the Resting Grounds to make a memorial to the fallen Great Knights and he had nothing to add that would resemble Isma. To get that, he’d have to go back down into those depths.

He did not think he would come back if he went to her again. 

But did he want to accept that where he found her is where she would stay? He thought very hard, and Mato simply knelt with him, by the key slot. 

“Heh…it was quite something. Above us, this bearded bug lit into me because they didn’t believe it when I told them I was a Great Knight. They refused to bring me up to speed about what was going on in the world so I had to…find out on my own.”

“Oh, my friend…” Mato sighed. He was upset for Ogrim but deep down, he was glad to get the attention off of him.

“Yeah, they were…quite rude, even in these times.” 

Ogrim put his claws on the rim of the hole. He could practically feel the warmth of his old burrow and he missed it.

He could remember the sounds that the waterways made and how he harmonized with them to pass the time.

He missed it. 

He could remember parting ways with Isma as he put up his guard for her and he missed her. He missed her more than his heart could hold. He couldn't quantify what he missed. He just missed.

“Mato…” Ogrim choked a bit, trying to sort through these thoughts and make a plan.

“Yes?”

“I can’t stand this thing being open.” He stated, but he wasn’t sure how much he meant it. “I want to go down there but everything is screaming at me that it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had.” 

“If you need to, we can-”

Ogrim cut Mato off immediately. “No. We can’t. I cannot go down there. My atrophy is laced in those pipes and if I go down, It will be far too difficult to get me out.” He hung his head, reaching down into it to feel its air.

“...Even though I am trying to honor them…I can’t honor her if I fall like that again…” 

“...oh…” Mato’s heart beat fast, and he didn’t think when he reached to Ogrim’s claw and grabbed it.

Both of them were warmed by the dank air being circulated up and through the ways.

“...you don’t have to then. She’ll…I’m sure she’ll understand and if we pray for her while we’re at the resting grounds…I’m certain the closeness will be felt in her soul.”

Mato squeezed his claw. “We’ll pray loud enough for her that she will be eased and so happy to hear you. I believe that.” 

Ogrim blinked away some tears and hissed a bit. He didn’t completely cry as he moved his claw out of the hole, pulling Mato with him. 

“...I’ll try to believe that too…” Ogrim put his claw on the cover again, and his heart felt like a lead weight thrown in a lake.

“As I close this chapter of my life, for good.” His voice broke a bit at that, but with a swift motion, Ogrim closed the cover. That rude bug will be glad the smell will be no more. That the route to Isma was no more.

That anything that harmed him could no longer inconvenience them.

He pressed down until it clicked and next to Mato, the key slid out. It fell from the slot and clattered on the ground. 

Mato picked it up and held it out so Ogrim could see it. “What of this?” 

Ogrim stared at it for a tic, before taking it in both claws so it would balance in them. He stood up and looked at it like it had all his answers. “Mmm.”

Ogrim turned and walked out of the east part of the area. Mato grabbed Hegemol’s helmet and swiftly followed.

They were back in the outpour, and in front of them was a very large statue.

Atop a flower, a tall knight stood at the center of a pouring fountain. Three beings stared at it in reverence, and it was warped by the rain ever crying for it.

Across the way was the city’s rich ambling about mindlessly.

Water ran down Ogrim’s sides and collected in his claws as he thought about this impulsive decision. He held in his claws the item that keeps him from reentering the waterways.

This object is what separates him from this life he knows and the life that comforted him with its ignorance. 

And by the gods' names, he was stronger than it. He could break it if he wanted to. 

With a look of anger, Ogrim wound back and threw the key as hard as he could. It hit the statue and bounced off of it into the water.

It was swept away, where it would surely join Isma in her grove right below. 

Ogrim lowered his claws and looked at the statue he hit. He remembered when it was built. The absolute dread he felt on that day that he had to replace with faith.

The vessel far above them. Isma far below them. 

How much pain they must have been enduring when presenting like pain never could touch them…

How Ogrim could do nothing for them.

The vessel had to go, but Isma…Isma was counting on him and he vowed to protect her…

He took an oath and he failed it. He heeded a call and he’s forsaken it. 

As each drop of rain fell onto him, his feelings bubbled and boiled. He was so outraged with himself. He failed Isma and she paid the price for it.

It wasn’t fair! None of this was! 

She should be here, screaming at him for his incompetence! For how long he spent away from all of this instead of being a good knight and taking responsibility!

What hurt the most is that…he knew for a fact she would never do that. She would sigh, hold his claw and tell him that she was there to help him.

The kindness he knew he hadn't earned.

Thinking of that made everything simmer over the edge like a pot of soup more abandoned than he was. 

Unable to help it, Ogrim screamed as loud as he could. “DAHHHH!!” 

He put his claws to the side of his head and fell to his knees, his booming voice traveling all through the fountain square.

Mato cringed at the volume even if he understood the pain, he was ready to kneel and grab him if the beetle started hitting his claws in an act of self-harm again.

Ogrim didn’t do that, but he did give a few more yells that fell into sobs. His heart burned and the rain above did little to extinguish it. It just mixed with his tears as he tried to breathe. 

He just wanted Isma. He wanted to make things up for her but he knew he never could.

Mato stood firm at his side and saw the rich staring at Ogrim’s breakdown from afar. He gave them a dirty look as if mentally telling them to go pound sand.

The dirty look fell when three sentries walked from behind them. They were alerted by Ogrim’s screams. 

Mato put down Hegemol’s helmet and drew his nail. He knelt next to Ogrim and pointed it ahead. “My friend, I apologize for interrupting your feelings but we have company.”

Ogrim sniffed, coughing on his tears. “...what-” He looked up and saw the guard marching in, drawing their weapons at Mato’s movements.

“....shit.” Ogrim couldn’t help that falling out of his mouth. 

The sentries held their nails in a very tight grip and Ogrim stood wobbly. He grabbed Hegemol’s helmet and Mato stood in front of him.

“If you want to try to take me down, you’ll face the full might of Nailmaster Mato! My training under the Great Nailsage will not compare to what you can throw at me!”

“Mato, they cannot- they can't comprehend that! Their-” Ogrim coughed a bit, throat sore from his tears.

“Their eyes are full of that bright malice-” 

Mato spun his nail as they approached. “Either way, it’s true.”

He bent down and then shot forward to hit the smaller sentry and then they all attacked. A heavier husk jumped and swung their nail at Mato, and he quickly parried and sliced their armored torso.

Mato swung low at the short one and cut their leg, making them immediately fall so he could kick them away. 

He could swiftly disarm the heavier ones with a hit to the arm. He felt bad hurting them when Ogrim asked him not to, but they kept trying to swing at him too!

He was quick to dodge backwards when one rushed at him, and he hit them on the back to send them flying down too. 

He looked to the entry to the eastern city and more sentries came marching in at the cries of their fallen.

Two smaller ones leapt over, and Mato put up a block to take them both down at once when Ogrim swung Hegemol’s helmet at them to ward them off!

He slid over and hit them away with his claw, them being unable to stop his force. 

Mato looked concerned as Ogrim straightened. He asked, “How many guards does this city need?”

“It’s a large sensitive city and we could not be everywhere- so these sentries-” Ogrim spoke as a very tall, heavily armored shield-wielding Great Sentry walked into the fountain area with a huff. “...Had to be up to size.”

Two heavier sentries came up behind the Great Sentry. The smaller ones locked onto Ogrim and the Great one raised its shield at Mato. 

“My heart is bigger than the power they think they hold,” Mato said, raising his nail to his side. 

Ogrim got into stance again, not liking his terrain disadvantage. “I got your flank then.” 

Mato swung in a circle, hitting the shield and performing a Cyclone Slash to knock the Great Sentry back. It was second nature to him at this point.

He banged against his shield and the two of them entered a nail lock, Mato grunting to keep the even balance. 

The heavy sentries rushed at Ogrim and he used the back of his claw to hit one of their helmets further onto their head, making them spin and fall down trying to pull it off.

For the other, he dodge out of their charge and knocked them over with a low swipe. They crashed into the other, incapacitated. 

A particularly small sentry got the jump on Ogrim, hitting Hegemol’s helmet and trying to slash his face.

“Ah! Do not scratch this!” 

The sentry leaped back, ready to swing again when Ogrim impulsively threw Hegemol’s helmet like a dung ball.

“Oh gods-!” 

It collided with the sentry and sent it sliding across the fountain square. Ogrim chased it with the water flow and caught the helmet, but the sentry rolled into the deep crevice of water.

Ogrim watched in horror as it didn’t attempt to swim, but reached for him. He was stunned, frozen as it floated and reached.

He realized it wasn’t directly towards him, just a distant light that was fading from its eyes. His eyes welled back up for the damned that populated this city.

He helped train this guard. He knew it. He stood with Hegemol as he praised them and their journeys into knighthood with this sentry job. 

That was one of the paths to become a Great Knight and he killed it…

He sat idle while this world he loved killed them all.

"Ghhh-" Mato struggled and pushed on the Great Sentry’s nail, trying to step to the side to get it to slip, but it stood firm. He huffed as he looked to the sentry’s sides to try and get the best next move.

He just had to stand strong until it came to him.

He could hear Sly on his left shoulder. When your opponent is your size, you want to look for their weakest point and take advantage before they can do the same to you. From there, you can either disarm or dispatch with ease. You’re strong, you must apply yourself! Be quick, Mato! You can do it because you have all you need here.

He’s trying, but father must understand. His heart was beating so fast, that it made his head flare with an ache. He can be quick, he won’t let anyone down, he can be quick! He just had to focus, just focus.

He put his hand firmer on the side of the nail and pushed harder with a growl. The Sentry hardly budged. With that, he could hear Sheo on his right. Now, Mato. You can get this, I know you can! Just, listen to me, let me adjust your stance- okay, if you have it, let me just-You want to simply look back to what father told us. When a foe is attempting to disarm you, you must not give in to rashness or anger. You must remember your breathing, check your footwork and quickly strike or dodge out of the way. However, do make sure you have the next step already in your mind before you make the first one!

He could practically feel Sheo touching him, trying to fix him but he needed to do it himself. A hand on the back to straighten him. A hand on his arm to make him ease and put back on tension.

Dear, dear Sheo, why must you try and teach like you’d teach yourself?

Mato tried to take a deep breath, but it hitched as he stepped with the Great Sentry. It stepped forward, making him step backwards, keeping his eyes locked on it. They were far too matched and Mato was far too focused to focus. 

They couldn’t stay evenly locked forever. He was getting tired.

“I want a challenge.” He could hear from the Sentry, but that was impossible. He knew that voice and it lingered in his head. Was it the same voice as that old wound that tripped him up each step?

His eyes went wide and his anger grew sharper. He growled out, “Am I… not a challenge to you?!”  

In front of him, he could clearly see Oro staring at him with a hatred in his eyes, splayed all over his mask.

“You challenge my patience.”

With an enraged harsh gasp, Mato impulsively pulled his nail out of the lock to swing it up onto the Great Sentry’s head in an attempt to slice its head off.

This not-so-bright tactical move left Mato wide open and before he could even exhale to swing the nail down, the sentry jabbed Mato’s exposed stomach.

“Gah!” Mato gasped, pushed back harshly by the rough force on his armor. He spun to regain his footing but before he could hold his nail up again the sentry slashed at him!

It nicked his side, gashing a jagged line through his entire chestplate.

Stunned, Mato took more steps back as fast as he could trying to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. He got some good distance away from the Great Sentry, though it still approached and kept its eye on Mato to see if it needed to re-engage (or attack if he charged again).

Mato held up his nail, still walking backwards as the Sentry walked forwards.

He could hear the flaps of wings, but that was the last thing he wanted to think of. Not her, not now, not when his brothers' and father's voices made him feel so weak and slow while he was fighting the best he possibly could. 

Mato touched the crack in his armor, it was a pretty shapely scratch but it wasn’t about to break it. He buckled down and put his nail behind him.

Gods let him remember how to do this. This is why he fights so hard for mastery.

Dashing forward, Mato attempted to perform a Dash Slash but it didn’t pan out when the Sentry raised its giant shield and simply pushed the Nailmaster away.

Mato stumbled back with another harsh gasp, before the water pelting him finally made him lose his footing and fall way too hard on his back. He could hear his supplies clutter and crash.

He also accidentally dropped his nail so he tried to sit up to find it. The vertigo of such a fast fall made that difficult, as well as the flapping of wings getting louder.

Mato looked up and for a moment, he thought he saw her. It couldn’t be her though. She was gone, Esmy was gone, he knew it! He saw it! She couldn’t even fly! He had to snap out of it. 

He blinked, eyes going wide when he realized it was an airborne sentry with a lance in hand. “RAVA!” It yelled, prepping it to throw. 

The entire time, Ogrim had been knelt at the water, still staring at where the smaller sentry drowned. He touched the water, knowing it would not surface, and sat there.

He did nothing until he heard this cry. He looked up and when he saw Mato on his back he couldn’t help but freeze again too.

The lance came flying down, and…

KH-CHNK!

At first, Mato didn’t realize what he was feeling.

Just a strange…pressure.

It wasn’t until he tried to move that the pain exploded through his arm. The lance had straight-up pierced into his left upper arm (likely in a spot where it was not through bone) and lodged itself into the stone beneath him.

“GAH-HAH!! AGH!” Mato howled, wanting to pull and move away but being unable to with it still in his arm.

The flying sentry flew away when the target was hit, likely to find another thing to throw, and the Great Sentry observed him as if waiting for him to die. Likely to see if it needed to get the killing blow or if it was taken from him. 

Ogrim watched Mato struggle, hating how his feet were stuck. 

Mato gasped harsh breaths as he tried to twist and grab the lance. The rain running down it mixed with the small bit of blood that could make its way through the wound and onto the ground. It made the pain worse. 

He could feel it slicing the inside of his arm and he had to make it stop.

The pain was so great but all he could do was gasp and begin to cry. He couldn't cry though, he just felt it behind his eyes wishing to break.

He had to get up, he had to fight, he had to be quick, he had to be there for his friend, he had to live. 

Mato grabbed the lance by the handle and turned it, making him lose his breath again. He gave it a pull and it didn't come out with the tug. All it did was send more pain pulsing through his entire arm.

When the shadow of the Great Sentry looked over him, his heart sped up so fast he wasn’t sure where it was anymore. 

So he gripped his fist, braced himself, and readied his legs.

Mato forced himself to sit up and bit through the intense rock of pain as he stood from his back quicker than anyone could have imagined.

The lance tore sideways from his arm, leaving a large gash from the impact wound that poured yellow hemolymph.

His face was painted with rage as the Great Sentry stared at him. He was soaking wet, in immense pain, and utterly pissed.

He spun the lance around so he was wielding it. Never once had he used such thin a blade but he would right now in pure furor.

“AAAHH!!” He yelled as he pierced the sentry where it couldn’t raise its shield in time.

Right into its eyes, Mato shoved it in one through the other.

Orange flew everywhere, and it mixed with his yellow still on the lance to look like an old flame. “Ghh!” It groaned, and to end this fully, Mato grabbed its arm and turned it to him.

He grabbed onto its chest and with a lurch, he headbutted them as hard as he possibly could. 

It fell down and he watched it die while breathing heavily. When it stopped moving completely, he looked up and saw more flying guards scouting the area. 

“...Mato?” Ogrim’s voice and hesitant reaching out made Mato grab his nail and run to him.

“We have to…let’s go- elevator-” He could barely talk through his breaths, and Ogrim shook everything off in a wish to help him.

“Mato-” The Nailmaster just grabbed his claw, making Ogrim swiftly grab Hegemol’s helmet as they ran to the area where the rich had been watching them.

They had fled as the guard came in, so the bottom of the spire was empty.

Mato looked behind them as they got to the dry area, and with a lot of strain, he flipped a lever to close the door so the flying guard could not get to them. 

All of the adrenaline could leave. Unless the guard still had the coordination to send reinforcements, they were safe. 

Still taking short breaths, Mato flung off his cloak to get to the supplies to treat his wound. “Hh!!” It made a gross wet splat noise as it flopped on the ground, but he could wring it out later.

He walked to the wall to lean on as he opened the bag of supplies and sorted through it, the pain screaming at him. He was screaming at himself louder, though. 

Ogrim put down the helmet and then didn’t know what to do with his claws as he watched Mato rummage. He pulled out a jar and saw it was cracked and leaking. It was their tea. The herbs had partially fallen out all over the bottom of the bag.

“Gah-” Mato threw it, angrier. It shattered on the floor, scattering it everywhere. 

“Fuck, everything could be broken, good fucking job, Nailmaster- You did this, you can’t do anything-i’d be laughed out of the training hall-” Mato growled under his breath, trying to just find his roll of bandages and paste.

If the paste was broken he’d throw everything. Gods, he felt so hot. How was he this hot when the rain was so cold?

“Oh gods, Mato…I’m so sorry, I should’ve fought more and helped- let me see-” Ogrim tried to be at his side, and see his wound.

Mato simply waved him away with the injured arm, not caring at its burning throbbing.

“You don’t worry about me! Don’t worry about me, it’s okay!” Mato kept searching, removing his kettle. It was dented, which made him more upset.

Ogrim just looked at the badly bleeding wound only made worse by Mato continuously moving it. “Mato, please just let me look at it. I can wrap it, its-”

Mato closed the blanket bag and looked at him, snapping. “Sheo, just leave me alone for a moment! I’m not letting you fret over me!”

Ogrim took a step back and shook his head, going deeper into the room to try and find something to help with. He wiped at his face, shaking all of what happened earlier off of him.

Everything else could wait. Isma, The Vessel, the city everything was now on hold for Mato. 

He saw a banner that he could reach and grabbed it. The name Sheo…that was a little familiar to him…

He pulled it off of the wall and went back to Mato. He stepped on it and tore a good wad off of it to clean his wound. Or to at least sop up some of the blood. 

Without another word, Ogrim placed the cloth wad onto the gash.

“Ah!” Mato winced, angrily pulling back but holding the cloth by himself. “Put pressure on it. Even pressure, please, Mato.” 

Mato did, he pushed down and bit through the pain. He looked down and leaned on the wall.

He huffed an angry sigh and kept murmuring under his breath. “Great, just great, this is a disaster, shouldn’t’ve done this, i’m going to bust something.” He didn't have much direction in his whispers, just gripping the cloth harder. 

Ogrim could hear these, though, that's what he didn’t realize. Mato’s lean slid into him sitting on the floor, and Ogrim joined him. He took the bag and moved it closer to him. 

“...I know…” Ogrim started, as he searched through the bag. “Huh-” Mato looked up, confused.

“I’m sorry. I know you're mad at me because I wasn’t as present as I should’ve been in battle and you got hurt. I’m so sorry.” Ogrim blinked, not allowing himself to cry either.

“Guh- No! No no-” Mato couldn’t wave his hand because he was still holding his wound, but he would if he could.

“I’m not mad at you, I'm really not. You shouldn’t be worrying about me or what I think anyways. We’re here for you and this is just a bump in the road, and-” 

Ogrim grabbed Mato’s shoulder gently to stop his rambling, finding the roll of bandages. “But it hurts, doesn’t it…?” 

Mato looked down at his arm and moved the cloth away. The weary purple mixed with the yellow, making it into an ugly brown stain. He nodded slightly but said just as quickly. “I should have been able to handle it.”

“Not one-handed. Not alone. It was not acceptable of me to go idle like that in combat, and from the bottom of my heart: I am sorry.” 

Mato refused to make eye contact with Ogrim, unsure what to say. “I…accept an apology I feel you do not have to make to me because of my mistakes.”

Ogrim tsked, shaking his head. “I understand why you froze, is all. You do not have to be sorry because I should have focused on myself…” Mato curled up a bit, feeling even worse at that little tsk.

Ogrim his claw inside the roll so he could unfurl it a bit. “Let’s wrap this first…” Ogrim said, making Mato remove the cloth.

He tore the fabric around his wound to pull it down, it settled around his wrist armor. His shell under it was a similar dark color, even though it was very cracked.

Mato would paste it later, he didn’t want to interrupt Ogrim. He didn’t even care about the paste too much, it could scar for all he cared. 

“Straighten it as best you can.” Mato did, shakily. 

Ogrim started wrapping it up, and Mato kept talking. “I just didn’t…want to take away from you when you are in pain. Even before this, you are in such- hss-!” 

Ogrim had gently touched under his arm to keep Mato from lowering it. “Sorry…” He said, reflexively. 

“Do not be sorry. If anything, I am!” 

“Why?” Ogrim asked and Mato hardly had an answer but he tried anyway. “Because…because I was-” Distracted? Slow? Incompetent? “...I let my anger get the better of me and…” He felt his eyes sting again, but he didn’t let any tears fall.

“I was reckless like a novice, you should not have to pick up after me for a silly mess when you are going through so much."

"Getting stabbed is not silly..." Ogrim said as if it was the simplest thing in the universe. 

“Give or take,” Mato mumbled as Ogrim finished the wrapping.

When he tore the bandage and smoothed it down, Mato took his arm back with a sigh.

“No matter how much is on my shoulders, I won’t willingly ignore you in distress…” Ogrim tapped his claw on the floor. “Even while my emotions have run high, I have noticed you have been off since we left the crossroads. We can speak about it!”

Mato removed the stray fabric from under his wrist to be more comfortable and said, “I don’t want to.” The emotions he put into bottles upon bottles had to be kept in. He knew that.

“My friend, if it led you to a spot where you were blinded enough to fall in battle and get stabbed, I feel like you should speak about it…” Ogrim was firm with him, but Mato simply said, “I don’t want to speak over you when this whole journey is for you.”

“You aren’t speaking over me when I am asking you to speak!” 

Mato glowered a bit, shaking his head. “When I watch you dissociate, slip into the past, scream, and cry…Ogrim, the last thing I should do is make anything about myself.” 

Ogrim was stunned a bit by that. It was true. This whole time he had been in his own head only breaking out for scant moments. It made him mutter, “I know I’ve been selfish, but-”

“Ah-ah! You are not selfish!” Mato snapped at that, paining his arm by pointing at him.

“I don't want to be even more so by letting you ignore yourself!” Ogrim argued back, not understanding exactly what was wrong with him.

“When you are grieving, I wouldn’t expect you to drop it for someone like me!”

“You act as if even though I am in my darkest place, I won’t want to be there for you.”

“I…cannot force you to. You are in this dark place and I want to anchor you. Let me.”

“I’ll be happy to let you when I’m certain you aren’t dragging yourself to places you cannot get out from!”

“I can get out of them!”

“Not when your arm has a gash the size of the hilt of your nail on it! Maybe bigger…” 

Mato waved his hand, still looking away. “I don’t want to argue anymore. When you are this vulnerable, you need more support than me. I won’t take that from you!”

“Nailmaster Mato!” Ogrim’s voice raised more than Mato expected. It showed very well that the arguement was not over.

“Do you really think I want you to kill yourself like this in an attempt to support me?! Do you think me cruel enough to think this is what I not only want but need?!” Ogrim gestured at his arm, and it immediately shut Mato up completely. 

Ogrim read his face and sighed. “I’m sorry for screaming.”

He put his claw on his uninjured shoulder. “...but, please. Why did you call me that name? Talk to me, as equals.” Ogrim’s eyes were shiny, and Mato was stunned silent.

“Who is Sheo?” He asked, quietly. Ogrim was startled when tears dripped down from Mato’s mask. They flicked down from underneath it and Ogrim just grabbed his free hand, rubbing it with the bumpy part of his claw in a comforting motion.

Mato tried to pull it back, “Don’t- Not for me.” Ogrim allowed him to not be touched, but he couldn’t let Mato curl into himself and shut down either.

“Please, speak with me.” He was ready to listen, and at this rate, he was worried this “Sheo” fellow stabbed him once as well.

Mato was silent for a very long time before he sniffed to get his tears away. He said with a very soft voice.

“...Sheo is…one of my brothers. My big brother.” 

Ogrim scooted closer to him and wished they had more water. He should have cleaned Mato’s wound, he suddenly realized. That banner must be so dusty…

Current priorities, Ogrim. 

“So this has to do with your family…? Tell me what happened with them.” He mirrored how Mato acted to him, touching his shoulder and retracting when he tensed.

“We have all the time in the world.” Ogrim lied, but it was comforting to Mato.

Mato still really didn’t want to talk about it, but he was in enough pain, and with Ogrim needling him…he just wanted to make it end. So he had to speak.

“...Where to start…?” He said, wondering if Ogrim would know. 

“The beginning?” 

The very beginning? Where did his words go? He hummed, sniffing again. “...we were adopted when we were young children by the great nailsage. Old enough to have our names...but not enough to know better. He let us know that he found us when we were lost and he gave us a place to grow.”

Mato started but backpedaled. “No, that’s a bad start- I don’t- let me think-” 

Ogrim waved, letting him know. “Whatever you need to say, you can say it. Be as open as you truly need.”

Mato picked at the bandage around his arm and sighed. “...the nailsage…he raised us as his own, but also couldn’t ignore that in exposing us to what he does lead us to want to follow in his footsteps. So when we came of age…he took us to the training hall and we were on the side being taught.” 

Mato hesitated again, and his voice wavered when he said, “My brothers and I were so very close…but when we took up our nails and started on our dreams…I don’t know…something in each of us changed…”

His tone dropped again, and Ogrim could see how much pain that caused Mato. How much his mind was trying to protect itself.

How much he was scared of the truth. Of what was going to happen next.

But he didn’t stop.

“Sheo was amazing …he always worked with me and always…always tried to help me. He was the best out of all of us…and so patient. But he was often aloof and being the mightiest student made it look like everything should’ve been coming to me as naturally as it came to him and that…caused quite a bit of frustration…gh…”

Mato rubbed the back of his head, hating saying that about Sheo. It was all just coming out like a broken jar full of water.

“You and Sheo were very very close…I’m sorry those changes made things difficult…”

Mato sighed, not liking the still shiny look Ogrim was giving him. Maybe he could stop with that? 

“The great Nailsage was your father? Did that add to your anger here?” With that question, Mato knew it wasn’t over.

“He was a stern teacher, but never a bad father. I will stand by that.” Mato said this simply, and added, “He always helped me too and was willing to do out of training one on one practice with me. When I struggled, he brought me fruit…and we tried to figure it out”

Mato muttered under his breath, “Even if I couldn't.”

Ogrim took that in, and had to say, “You struggled very badly it seemed.” 

“I’m trying,” Mato stated, making Ogrim shush about it. “I’ve always tried, and I’m still trying to achieve my mastery as I should have! It’s just…with Sheo leaving the nail and…and…what happened with Oro…it’s…”

“Oro’s your other brother?” 

Mato didn’t verbally acknowledge that but nodded curtly. “When Sheo expressed wanting to leave the nail arts, Father did little about it. He didn’t try to convince him to stay, and Sheo just…left home. He talked to me, but I hardly understood why he couldn’t stay on the course with me and pursue more dreams.” 

“Do you know what the dream was?”

Mato thought hard for a moment, trying to remember. “...to teach himself something new?”

“I figure that’d be hard while trying to absorb stuff you already know…” 

“...Yeah…but he didn’t have to leave so fast…I barely want to get started on Oro and his tirade.” Mato’s anger was rising, so he didn’t stop himself. “He completely betrayed me.” He stated, wishing he could cross his arms without giving him more pain. 

“How so?” Ogrim asked, concerned more.

“...it was this whole thing. I don’t know what exactly broke but he kept talking about practically giving up the ideals Father set on us. He kept talking about individualism and being on his own, in turn leaving others on their own." Mato wish he had something better to do with his hands while he talked.

"Everything he said he wanted out of his mouth was the opposite of everything we had been taught our whole lives and I could not get a single answer from him that didn't end in “Why not?” and it drove me crazy.” 

Mato sighed, shaking his head. “That was just the emotions, it wasn’t even the main thing that happened. He owes me, plain and simple. He owes me and I will not forgive him until he gives me that.”

“...What happened?”

Mato shook his head more. “I know what you want but I do not want to put myself back in that moment right now. I should not be that heated.”

Ogrim hesitated, before deciding not to strain him and told him, “Okay. We can pick that up later.”

Ogrim took in this information and tried to think of something to say, but Mato said it first. “...I wish I could go to Sheo…I really wish I could.” That, in a very small voice, struck a chord with him. 

“Mato, I feel a very similar way to you. Our grief is more connected than you’re allowing yourself to know.” 

“It is…?” Mato tilted his head, and Ogrim curled up a bit, looking at the ground. Deep below him, right under their feet, he knew Isma’s grove was near. 

“I do not know what happened to Isma. Not really.” Ogrim admitted, a terrible feeling brewing in his stomach as he said it out loud. “I left my post to go visit her once and…she was just…gone. The person who was always there for me, helping me, gone forever.”

He didn’t want to describe her as she was. Horrifically stretched into the wall in a way that almost made him, a dung beetle, throw up at the realization it was his dear friend.

“I can’t go to her to figure it out. I can’t go to her to say goodbye.” Tears fell down his cheeks at this, and he had to say.

“I don’t know when Isma…died...I don’t know if she suffered. I don’t know if I could have helped her…” He tapped his claws together, hating what was coming out of his mouth but it came automatically at this point.

“I should have helped her sooner, but…I just…Stayed away. Under a phoney oath disguising exile...When I found her, I thought it was all over right then and there…" He let his claws down and stated.

“I went to try and find any scrap of normalcy but, I found nothing but ruins on top of ruins…it was all destroyed and would never be the same. I ran to the closest stag station and the stag there allowed me to hide away in the cliffs…until I met you.” Ogrim was still crying, but he couldn’t find it in him to sob.

Mato put his right hand on Ogrim’s shoulder and said, “Ogrim my friend, I still do not think my personal family issues are comparable to what you went through with complete and total kingdom decay as a very loyal knight.”

“I’m simply saying, Mato. We understand each other in a form of loss.”

Ogrim put his claws to his face, staring off ahead as this hold wiped away his tears. “The world is destroyed and we are playing into its thrall. At least we can be kind to each other.”

Mato looked down, “...I’m glad you are kind to me.”

“I’m glad you’re kind to me too.”

Mato fiddled with his broken armor for a moment, thinking of more to say. “...I’m greatly sorry you had to lose Isma that way. I do…have the fear that I won’t achieve my mastery in time to reach out to my father (or even, Sheo.) before something bad happens to them in this world."

Mato sniffed, rubbing the middle of his mask. "It’s terrifying but I’ve tried not to think too hard about it. It’s a silent fear I’ve hidden deep in my mind that when I achieve my mastery, I won’t be able to find them where they said they’d be. I just need to keep pushing myself further and I’ll earn it.” 

Ogrim nodded, not fully processing it for a few tics. They sat quietly again until Ogrim sorted through what Mato just said with what he said before. 

“Wait…Mato? Can I get a detail straight, I’m tired and losing some thread here.” 

“Yes?” Mato sat up a little better, ready to answer.

Ogrim asked this as gently as he could, but he had to ask anyway, “Do you know where Sheo and your Father are at this moment?”

“...Sort of? I know where Sheo lives and Sly has places he talked about going where I intend to check.” 

“And getting there isn’t the problem here. It’s that you refuse to?”

“Sheo told me he lives in Greenpath. I intend to go to them when I master the teachings Sly gave to me. So I am who they wish I was.”

Ogrim took a deep breath. “Mato. That is not acceptable.”

“What?!” Mato was shocked to hear this after what they just talked about.

“You just told me that Sheo and your father were very good to you. They’re your family! In the state of the world now, you should not push them away like that! I care about you, but this…” Ogrim put his claw on his right shoulder, giving it a gentle push.

“You can’t take the love they definitely still have for you for granted. Not when it's still alive. Not when I am living proof of how anything could happen. You need to go to them more than I need to be doing this right now.”

“You deserve to be here, but you speak as if it’s easy.” Mato didn’t want to glare at Ogrim but it came through anyways. 

“It’s not, but losing them is not easier. Who told you that you don’t deserve them until you meet that standard?” 

“I told myself that! Because it’s true!” Mato waved both his arms up, regretting it “BAH-” He lowered them, touching the bandages to make sure yellow didn't seep on him.

Ogrim held his claws, ready to grab him. 

“Do you think I want to go back to them the same as when we all left?! Just like those poor siblings we met? I’m scared we’re going to be like that, so I want to be stronger! Wiser! Not the same…slow, behind, silly little nailmaster they knew me as when we all trained together! I need to be worthy!” 

Ogrim shook his head, “No, no Mato. Think of it. You told me that Sheo gave up the nail arts for a new dream. At the very least, Sheo would not care what level you are at if you go to him. Proud? Definitely. But care if you still act like a novice or are the best in the world? No! Because from what I can gleam, he cares for you! I don’t know of Sly, but I feel as your father he’d feel the same way!”

Ogrim saw Mato’s sad glower and took his shoulders to make him look at him. “You can take it slow. You don’t have to visit them the second we leave the resting grounds, but please, Mato.”

Mato’s face softened when he saw more tears in Ogrim’s eyes.

“Don’t do what I did. Please.” Ogrim pushed his wet headband back into place, voice breaking.

“You are my dearest friend that I can still hold. I do not want you to have to feel even a crumb of the pain I have been feeling in my heart this entire time. Not with a friend, not with your own flesh, blood, and loving bonds."

He gave him a gentle squeeze. "Can you do that for me? Think of taking a hike to visit your brother? We can even go together.”  

Mato blinked away more tears, and simply nodded with a little “Mhm…”

Ogrim looked off towards the eastern city. “I’m still uncertain of all I want to do with my time left in this kingdom, but we can figure it out together. We can find what we need. For now…let’s go to that elevator.” And maybe find Hegemol and Ze’mer along the way.

With a very gentle tug, Ogrim stood and helped Mato up along the way. When they were both standing, they were both shaky.

Mato let go of Ogrim’s claw and couldn’t help but just walk into him and hug him loosely with one arm.

“I’ll try, Ogrim. Please believe me, I will try…”

Ogrim hugged him back, glad he wasn’t straining his arm to do this. “That’s all we can ask for these days, isn’t it? Just a bit of loving effort without destroying ourselves. We can’t do that, just like you said…”

Mato nodded, and with these actions, Ogrim’s heart felt…gross still, but a little lighter.

He felt less selfish for his feelings when they were helping Mato. Even if he had to apply some tough love. Isma would be proud.

He couldn't hold her. He still missed her with a gaping hole in his heart, but he carried on her name by supporting his friend. It was all she could ask for.

Mato slowly gathered their supplies back up, hissing intermittently when he bent his arm.

Ogrim picked up his cloak and wrung it out as best he could. “We still have a bit of rain to go through. But the lift is in the King’s Station.”

“From what I remember.” Mato hummed, tying the blankets shut again. “I’m upset.” He stated, and before Ogrim could reach out to him, he said, “I really liked that kettle and now I have to Beat the Dent out of it later.” 

“Ohhh ho ho ho…” Ogrim couldn't help but laugh a bit, giving Mato a small pat on the back as he gave him back his cloak.

“Can you put this back on with that arm?”

“I can. I’ve honestly had worse, but this has just shaken me harder because of the area.”

“It looks like it hurts more than you’re showing, and you’re still showing quite a bit.” He was still shaky, but stood alright.

“We can fix it more when we aren’t likely to be hunted down by this city’s crazed militia.”

“...True. Are you ready?” Ogrim asked, claws hovering near to make sure Mato could do it. He winced and muttered the entire time he pulled it over himself, but he got it on.

With it, he could put the supplies back where they belonged. 

“I’m ready.”

“We’re ready?”

“Are we?” 

Ogrim blinked a bit and looked east again, thinking. He had no clues on Hegemol and Ze’mer, but at this point, they needed to finish and recoup.

If the news was good, he’d find them eventually. If the news was bad, he’d grieve more and add it to the pile he knows he’ll have to work very hard for a very long time to heal.

With Dryya, with Isma, with his view of the king.

And if Mato was willing to try…so was he. He had the kindness in his heart, and the love of his friends still within him to give.

“Yes.”

---

A step into the tears, Ogrim only paused for a moment to look at the directional sign guiding one to the palace.

Through that area was nothing but the broken elevator and a broken dream.

He stared at it until Mato caught up to him, leapt down, and silently walked on ahead. 

So Ogrim wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the sign go to follow him.

If he couldn’t go back to Isma, he couldn’t go back to the palace.

Nothing would be there for him to go back to.

As the two bugs walked through the rain once more, Ogrim wanted to distract Mato from the pouring rain dampening his cloak once again.

So while they waded through the side of the city to try to avoid the antsy lost guard, Ogrim thought about the battle. About everything that happened since they entered the city.

“You know, Mato…I’m very impressed with you.” 

“Mmm…?” Mato adjusted his cloak, trying to shield his bandages from getting wet. It was a strange feeling of pain, but he had been pierced by wild beasts in hunts before. 

“The way you held your ground against a Great Sentry! Those fellows are another breed of strength, even at my prime while sparring with them they could knock me down.” Ogrim looked at Mato’s damaged armor. “You bested them with merely a scratch!”

Mato waved his arm down, blushing again. “You’re saying that to cheer me up because I lost, you don’t need to.” 

Ogrim looked flabbergasted. “...Mato, you did not lose?”

That made Mato look even more confused than Ogrim was. “I didn’t?”

“I’m very certain I watched you gouge their eyes out in one swoop with the other sentries weapon you ripped from your bleeding arm.” Ogrim was certain he didn’t pull it out. He ripped it.

Mato looked at his arm and thought about his impulsive actions for a moment. “Oh yeah, I did do that. It…didn’t feel like a victory.”

Ogrim put up one claw as if he was swearing. “I fully believe you broke their skull.”

Mato adjusted his falling headband again. “I like breaking skulls.” He had a small smile in his eyes, as this was not nearly his first time. He had proof at his hut.

“Evidently! You are very strong.” 

Mato ducked under a passage, seeing the stag station symbol inside. “I still have much to learn.”

“Don’t we all?”

The two of them avoided the husks and Mato insisted they cross to the other way when he saw another lance-wielding sentry tucked in the left side of the station.

With time, they worked their way up a few more elevators until they came upon it.

The giant elevator they had been yearning for.

“These lifts are some of the biggest in the kingdom. Designed specifically for either many small or the larger among us to traverse the tunnels of this kingdom.” Ogrim explained as Mato fiddled with the door.

“Convenient for us to fit inside, then.”

“Indeed.”

They stepped in, and Mato immediately sat down on a corner of it. “Mato?” Ogrim silently asked him if he was alright as he put Hegemol’s helmet down.

“Simply bracing myself for the jolt. It’s going to sting and hurt badly, but I can handle it with mental preparations.”

Ogrim grabbed the lever but hesitated to pull it when Mato gripped his cloak and took a deep breath.

“No, okay- I’m not pulling this lever until we fix this a little more.” 

Mato let out his breath, exasperated. “We’re almost there, Ogrim. It will be fine.” 

“Let me into the bag, Mato. If this is my journey, I get to choose when to stop for my dear friend.”

“Ogrim-”

“Bag.”

Mato grumbled and allowed Ogrim to get inside the supply bag. He rummaged about, not minding the crumbled herbs at the bottom.

When he spotted something blue, he pulled out Mato’s jar of lifeblood. “Ohh, perfect!”

“Ogrim, I don’t want to eat that or undress the wound right now-”

Ogrim opened the jar, stuck his claw in, and squished the seeds into a paste. “What? I’m not putting it straight on the wound, you don’t do that! It’s stronger if you put it on the bandage as a paste or salve.”

“On…on the bandage?” 

Ogrim scooped some of it onto his claw as Mato moved his cloak to let it be visible.

“It soaks into the bandage and gives it a longer effect as it sinks down.” He gently rubbed it on, and the pain was still there but Mato knew it needed time to do its job. Every little press sent jolts through Mato, but he took it silently. 

“...Well…aren’t I stupid, then.”

“No, you learned something new. That’s how it is, right?” Ogrim put the lid back on the jar and put it back in the bag. “You can still eat it if you want.” He offered his claw that still had some of the blue goop on it.

Mato just swiped it off of it and put it on his arm himself. “I’m good…” 

Ogrim nodded, rubbing his claws together. He noticed it would also help him. The orange that once stained it with rage was replaced with a blue hue. It was calming. 

He grabbed the lever as Mato made sure the bag was secure again. “Are you ready? Is that better?”

Mato nodded, and he braced himself as Ogrim pulled the lever. With the pull, the doors closed and the giant machine whirred to life. The chain above them started pulling them up at a decent pace, shaking the lift about as it ascended.

Ogrim sat next to Mato, putting his claws together and curling up a bit. This was a better place to rest.

“...Are you ready to be in the Resting Grounds, truly?” Mato asked him, holding his still damp cloak tightly. The start up was quite painful. Ogrim didn’t answer, trying to remember to breathe.

“Everything I worked so hard to nurture and protect is gone and we’re rising for me to realize that more and more. How does one deal with that? How are they ready?”

Mato knew he wasn’t the one who could answer that, but he was the only one who could try.

“...I’m not sure. We can take all our problems one step at a time…and reap what it sowed for us.”

“How do we reap it?” Ogrim looked at Hegemol’s helmet. He didn’t have much to reap other than keep living. He planned on that. Living for those he knows he’s lost. But what would he do with that life? 

“...We’ll figure it out…I’m sure.”

Ogrim didn’t want his voice to break, but it was all too soft when he asked, “What if we don’t?” 

“We keep trying.”

Mato tiredly allowed himself to lean on Ogrim, and Ogrim sighed. The loss of some blood could be getting to him, but he knew they’d be physically alright. 

He put his claw around Mato’s back and they quietly listened to the rumble of the lift carrying them far away from the city.

The rain and the blood below them were all the past now.

As they rode up to their futures, uncertainty tried to shake them. 

But that did not make the future come any slower.

Change will happen. Love will find them. 

They will feel lost, but they know it will never be for long.

As they help each other find the other. 

And let the lone flower’s leaves fall like the acid that once graced them with a smile. 

How he’d treasure it so.