Chapter Text
Patching together, patching together, continuing to form its shape.
Patching together, patching together, until he recognizes his face.
Patching together, patching together, blind to his own mistakes.
Patching together, patching together, patching together, until the picture is complete.
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In the heart of the woods, surrounded by towering trees that swayed gently in the breeze, sat a boy. His hair, white as freshly fallen snow, caught the faint glow of the campfire, casting fleeting shadows across his face. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of wood in the flames. One of his eyes, drained of color, stood in stark contrast to the other, which gleamed with a quiet determination that belied his youthful appearance.
His gaze was fixed on a weathered map spread out before him, its edges curling slightly in the heat of the fire, the ink fading from years of use. He traced his finger along its surface, deep in thought.
Despite the solitude of the clearing, the boy wasn’t truly alone. Around him, an unseen company made their presence known—not in form, but in the way he spoke, as if to familiar friends. His voice carried through the cool night air, soft yet steady, though no answers came back—at least none that anyone else could hear.
“No, Beako, I can’t play right now,” he murmured, his tone carrying the affection of someone used to managing a handful of persistent companions. His fingers shifted over the map, stilling for a moment. “I have something important to—hey! Garfiel, play nice with everyone... Seriously, what am I going to do with you guys?”
He sighed, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead as if to ward off an oncoming headache.
The weight of leadership—of balancing duty and care—showed itself in that brief moment. The campfire crackled, sending faint sparks dancing upward into the night, and a brief smile curved his lips, though a flicker of exhaustion tugged at the corners of his eyes. His shoulders slumped, ever so slightly, as if the weight of unseen burdens pressed down upon him.
Still, he remained alert, his attention flickering back to the map. His eyes, one drained of color, the other sharp and focused, scanned the lines and symbols as if searching for something hidden within their weathered marks. The shadows around him seemed to grow longer, the trees leaning in as silent spectators to his musings.
“No, we talked about this already, Otto,” he continued, his tone now carrying a firm edge, though there was an undeniable warmth beneath it, the kind reserved for friends who pushed boundaries out of concern.
“We can’t take that route.” He pointed to a dense, shaded section of the map, his finger hovering over an area marked by thick, winding paths. “The knights have been way too cautious with that area. If we head through there, we’ll be spotted before we even make it halfway.”
The boy paused, his hand lingering above the map as though waiting for an unseen reply. He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to someone standing just over his shoulder.
“You’re right…” he muttered after a beat, his tone softening with reluctant agreement. “I guess it *would* be unexpected to go to them. But where would Reinhard be right now?”
He turned his head to the opposite shoulder, as if waiting for a second opinion from another unseen voice. The fire flickered, casting a warm glow on his face as he pondered the question, his brow furrowed in thought.
“I mean, of course he’d be busy defending the kingdom,” he reasoned aloud, though there was a tinge of uncertainty in his voice. His fingers brushed over the map once more, tracing a different route. “But... what are the chances we actually run into him?”
Another pause, longer this time. He nodded, as though acknowledging advice only he could hear, and a small, wry smile touched his lips.
“Pretty low, huh?” he said, half to himself. “I guess it could be worth it... I mean, you guys obviously know way more than me.”
The boy’s expression darkened as the weight of his own words sank in. That last part... it was true, wasn’t it? He didn’t know anything, not really. Every step he took, every decision he made, seemed like it had been guided by the advice, strength, and wisdom of others.
People he cared about, people he relied on—people who were just *better* than him. He was always one step behind, always fumbling through this whole ordeal, patching together a broken plan, a fragile hope, using the pieces they handed him. They made him strong, they made him capable—but what did *he* make of himself?
Without them, where would he even be? Where would his strength come from? These thoughts gnawed at him, cutting deeper with each quiet second as he stared at the map, barely seeing it anymore. He was leaning on them, wasn’t he? Leaning too much. He couldn’t tell if it was because he trusted them... or because he didn’t trust himself.
But that didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Whether he was strong or weak, knowledgeable or ignorant, he’d gather every piece of the puzzle, no matter what it took. Even if it meant relying on others to get there, he’d use any means available to him.
He clenched his fists, the map crinkling slightly under his grip. The pieces would come together—*he* would bring them together, and he’d find a way to make it work. He had to.
Before his thoughts could spiral further, a bright, energetic voice rang out, shattering the heavy mood like glass hitting stone.
“Master!”
The sudden burst of sound made him flinch, pulling him from his brooding just as a blur of movement appeared at the edge of his vision. Before he could process what was happening, something—or rather, someone—pounced on him from behind.
The force of the impact nearly knocked him off balance, but he managed to stay seated as a familiar weight pressed into his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a playful, exaggerated hug.
Shaula.
“Wha—Shaula?!” His surprise was palpable, but not unusual when it came to her. He barely had time to react before she leaned in even closer, her chest pressing firmly against him as she grinned mischievously over his shoulder.
“I did a full Shaula check of the area, Master!” she declared with her usual boundless energy, her voice practically bubbling with enthusiasm. “Nobody’s around for miles... that means the Master can have a niiiice~ long rest!”
Her teasing lilt was unmistakable, a trademark of her relentless banter. Despite her carefree tone, there was always a strange mix of pride and protectiveness in the way she delivered her reports, as if her reckless nature somehow complemented her loyalty to him.
Shaula was fearless, unpredictable, and utterly shameless, but she was also undeniably dependable in her own chaotic way.
“That’s great, Shaula,” he replied, though his voice lacked the usual warmth she might have been expecting. The weariness from earlier still clung to him, weighing down his words. His tone came out more dismissive than he intended, but he couldn’t help it.
His mind was still tangled in the thoughts that had been gnawing at him, weighed down by the doubts he couldn’t shake. The last thing he needed was more distractions.
Shaula’s grin faltered for a split second, her wide, playful smile dimming as she loosened her grip slightly. Normally, she would have pressed on, doubling down on her antics until she pulled a laugh or a blush out of him.
But this time, something in the way he spoke—his tiredness, his lack of usual banter—made her pause. Her sharp eyes softened, and instead of continuing with her usual teasing, she adjusted her tone. Though she tried to maintain her playful edge, there was concern lurking beneath it.
“Master? What’s wrong? You don’t look too happy... and here I thought you’d be thrilled to hear you’ve got some free time with your favorite person!” she said, her voice lilting in mock-pout. But it didn’t land like it normally did.
He sighed, running a hand through his white hair. He didn’t want to burden her—or anyone else—with the weight of his doubts. Not when they all believed in him so much. It wasn’t their problem to deal with. Forcing a small smile, he glanced over his shoulder at her, doing his best to look as if nothing was wrong.
“I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind, I guess. But I appreciate the report. Really.”
Shaula stared at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. She wasn’t convinced, but she could tell he wasn’t ready to talk. A knowing look passed between them, but she wouldn’t push—not right now, anyway. Instead, her grin slowly returned, a hint of her usual mischief flickering back into her expression.
She leaned in close again, her voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper, brushing against his ear as she spoke.
“Well, if Master needs something to take his mind off all that boring stuff…” she began, trailing her fingers lightly down his arm in a deliberately suggestive manner, “I’m more than happy to help~”
Her words hung in the air, her tone dripping with playful intent.
He rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a faint chuckle this time. “On second thought, maybe I’ll just go to bed,” he said dryly, pulling away from her with a mock exasperation.
“Wha—Master, no!” Shaula exclaimed, overdramatically clutching at his shoulders as if he were about to disappear forever, her pout returning with full force. She leaned forward even more, trying to reel him back in with her usual antics. "But what about your dedicated Shaula time?!"
He stood up, brushing off the dirt from his clothes and giving her a pointed look, though there was a trace of amusement behind his eyes. “Dedicated Shaula time can wait,” he teased. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
Her exaggerated sigh of defeat made him chuckle, but as she finally let go, he noticed the genuine affection beneath the playfulness. Shaula was always there for him, even when he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms, “but don’t think you’re getting out of it tomorrow, Master!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a wave, already feeling the exhaustion catching up to him. As he headed toward the small tent set up nearby, he cast one last glance at her, and for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightened. Even with everything weighing on him, he wasn’t alone.
And for now, that would have to be enough.