Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With the slow spread of the King’s curse, travel in Vaugarde hasn’t exactly been a popular pastime. Most people have either sheltered themselves in their home towns and villages to avoid the hordes of sadnesses prowling throughout the wilds, or they’ve been desperately rushing for the few spots of open border to the South and East. In the West, where the border to Poteria has already been frozen, there’s hardly anybody on the roads anymore. With this in mind, one can understand the utter confusion Mirabelle feels upon finding a group of nearly a dozen bright, horse-drawn carts sitting in a circle in a nearby clearing. Several individuals, wearing all sorts of varied shades, walk around the carts while taking care of their horses, setting up tents, and building a large fire.

“Do these guys… not know about the curse?” Mirabelle wonders aloud to her two companions that stand to either side of her.

“I find that unlikely.” Odile responds, folding her arms over her chest. “The King’s assault has been well-known for at least a month now.”

“Maybe their carts broke down?” Isabeau suggests. “Or something else is holding them up?”

“Do you think they need help?” Mirabelle clasps her hands together in worry. “Should we go and ask?”

“I suppose…” Odile hesitates, squinting at the cluster of carts suspiciously. “But we should be cautious.”

“You think they could be trouble?” Isabeau frowns, but strokes his chin. “I guess it’s possible, but…”

“They probably aren’t dangerous.” Odile agrees. “But with the King's curse spreading so close to here, and with there being no towns or villages nearby, finding a large group like them is a bit unusual.”

“We’ll… we’ll be careful.” Mirabelle agrees.

As the trio begins to approach the circle of carts, they are quickly noticed by the entourage. There are a few friendly waves exchanged from a distance before someone is sent to meet the saviors half-way. The person in question is tall, dressed in lightless clothes, including a rather impressive and gaudy tophat. Mirabelle assumes this man holds some position of authority in this group, based on his attire.

“Greetings, friends!” The man bows in a show of greeting; Mirabelle giggles and returns the gesture, followed quickly by Isabeau. Odile nods her head politely. “My name is Marvon, and I’m the ringmaster of this little circus group. And to whom do we owe the pleasure?”

“A circus?” Odile raises an eyebrow inquisitively. “This is a strange place to set up something like that. You are aware of the curse, right?”

“Yes, yes…” The ringmaster nods solemnly. “It seems we got more than we bargained for when we passed through from Poteria. But the show must go on, no matter the environment! So we’ve been passing through local Vaugardian towns and cities in the West to bring a bit of joy to those in such a desperate situation. We’re just camping here for the night on our way North.”

“And… What does your show entail?” Isabeau inquires, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. “Vaugarde is a little strict about some types of… entertainment.”  Mirabelle nods in agreement, thinking about a few stories she’s heard of that involve some less than savory practices of some traveling entertainers.

“Ah, no need to fret!” Marvon holds up his hands. “We run a respectable show here! We don’t use animals for entertainment at all, due to the risks and the ethics problems involved. And the people who work here are treated fairly and respectfully by each other and myself! Everyone has full control over how they are presented and how they perform, as long as they follow basic safety guidelines. And customers who treat our staff disrespectfully are promptly removed from our show. I’m merely here to make sure things are run safely and orderly.”

“That’s… good to hear!” Mirabelle smiles brightly. Vaugarde doesn’t have a strict ban on animal usage for entertainment, but it’s highly regulated, and frowned upon by a lot of the population if the animals aren’t given the utmost best care possible.

“Still.” Odile presses. “Why would you do your show so close to the curse? Shouldn’t you be traveling towards the center of the country?”

“That would be due to instructions from our Guiding Star.”

“Guiding star?” Mirabelle asks, taking a moment to remember what a ‘star’ is.

“Well, that’s the title he picked.” Marvon laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Our Guiding Star is the fortune teller of our act. They usually set up a little tent to the side and do tarot readings for guests coming in and out of our main tent. He’s also the one who usually decides where we’ll be traveling next.”

“And they led you straight into a cursed country?” Odile asks, doing very little to hide her amused grin.

“Well…” Marvon chuckles, and breathes in through his teeth. “He’s usually a lot better. They’ve been helping for a couple of years now, and this is the first time his guidance has gone wrong. Even if… he still insists he’s guiding us on the right path.”

“I see.” Odile chuckles, shaking her head. “Ah right, I suppose we’ve been a little rude. My name is Madame Odile, and I’m a traveler from Ka Bue.”

“I’m Isabeau!” Isabeau smiles wide, offering his hand to the ringmaster to shake. “I’m a former defender and current guard for Mirabelle.”

“That’s me, I’m Mirabelle.” Mirabelle gives a small smile, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. “I’m a housemaiden from Dormont.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all!” Marvon replies cheerily. He gives a long, curious stare towards Mirabelle, who shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “Forgive my inquiry, but Dormont was the place this King fellow took over, right? I’ve heard tell of a housemaiden from there who was…”

“Yes.” Odile sighs. “She’s the savior of Vaugarde. Or at least, she will be once we end this curse.” Mirabelle feels her face growing warm, but nods quickly in agreement.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Marvon laughs. “He was right, after all.”

“What do you mean?  Who was right?” Isabeau pats Mirabelle on the back in a comforting gesture.

“The Guiding Star!” Marvon laughs a little louder. “They’ve been telling us that there’s a good reason the ‘universe’ brought us here. He’s also been saying that, should we happen upon the saviors of Vaugarde, we should direct them his way. Apparently they want to give you lot a tarot reading or three.”

“They specifically mentioned running into us?” Odile asks, her tone hinting to Mirabelle that the Madame doesn’t quite buy it.

“Oooh, how mysterious!” Isabeau grins widely. Mirabelle stiffles a giggle from behind her hand.

“Is that so?” Odile raises an eyebrow. “And how much does he charge for these readings?”

“If they call for you specifically, he’s offering to do it for free.” Marvon assures.

“Well, we’ve got to do it, then!” Isabeau beams. “I’d love to see my fortune!”

“Isabeau,” Odile sighs, shaking her head. “Fortune tellers aren’t real. They use sleight of hand, cold readings, and confirmation bias to make themselves seem legitimate, even when there’s nothing mystical about them.” Mirabelle notices Marvon’s smile widen at Odile’s words, like he’s taking them as a challenge.

“I… know that’s what it is, at least sometimes.” Isabeau concedes. “But come on, let’s have a little bit of fun while we’re here!” Odile rolls her eyes, and looks to Mirabelle questioningly. Mirabelle, suddenly reminded that she’s technically supposed to be in charge of this little group, hesitates.

“It… couldn’t hurt, right? It’s getting late, and we’re not going to cover much more ground today anyway. We can check it out, and find a place to camp afterwards.” She nods resolutely, and Odile sighs, but doesn’t argue.

“Their tent is the lightless one covered in stars to the East end of camp.” Marvon informs the group, pointing them in the right direction. “If you need anything else while we’re here, let us know!”

The trio of saviors thank the ringmaster, and make their way into the camp. Mirabelle guesses that there are around two and a half dozen people at this camp, all walking around with purpose as they prepare for the night. Most everyone gives the saviors a friendly greeting as they pass by, but all of them seem too busy to stop and chat for the moment. Right where the ringmaster said they would find it, Mirabelle spots a tall lightless tent dotted with darkless stitching to appear like the night sky. At the entrance to the tent is a singular four pointed star that makes Mirabelle a little queasy as she remembers the last time she saw that design.

Sitting in front of the tent is a short person clothed in a darkless cloak and a pointed hat. The hat has several strings of star-shaped beads hanging off of the rim, and the inside of their cloak and hat is covered in lightless fabric with similar starry beads sewn into them to mimic the night sky. Mirabelle can’t help but notice the same symbol of a four pointed star stitched into the backs of this person’s lightless gloves. This person glances up and gives a polite smile to the trio as they approach.

“Hello, can I help you?” He stands up and lifts the rim of their hat to reveal more of their face. Mirabelle’s breath catches in her throat. The accent… She’s definitely heard that accent before.

“You’re the Guiding Star, right? Your ringmaster said you were looking for us.” Odile mentions, wording it almost like a challenge.

“Oh!” Their face brightens, and they brush off their cloak around their knees. “You’re the saviors then, right? The ones trying to break the curse?”

“That’s us!” Isabeau holding out his hand to shake. “I’m Isabeau, this is Madame Odile, and that there is Housemaiden Mirabelle!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Isabeau. My name is Siffrin, the Guiding Star of our troupe.” They give nods of greeting to Odile and Mirabelle. They hesitate for a few seconds before they gingerly shake Isabeau’s hand. “Did Marvon mention why I wanted to see you?”

“To give us tarot card readings, yes?” Odile raises an eyebrow. “Isabeau here apparently can’t help but believe in that kind of nonsense.”

“M’dame!” Isabeau scolds, shaking his head in disappointment. “You may not believe in it, but that’s no reason to be rude.”

“That’s alright. She’d normally be right, it’s often nonsense.” Siffrin chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s a shame that there are so many grifters and con men who pretend to practice fortune telling, it really gives the practice a bad name.”

“And I suppose you just happen to be one of the few who isn’t a con artist?” Odile challenges, folding her arms and staring down the fortune teller.

Siffrin blushes and tilts their head to hide their face behind the rim of their hat. “Well… I’ll do your readings for free, so you can be the judge of that afterwards. No harm in trying, right?”

“I suppose we’ll see.”

Siffrin recovers quickly, clears their throat, and smiles up at the trio. “Alright! So, I’ll give you each a personal reading… if you want one. Just decide who wants to go first, and I’ll get things set up. Go ahead and follow me in when you decide.” They quickly duck into their tent, closing the flap behind him.

“He should really work on his confidence if they crack under this amount of scrutiny.” Odile chuckles. “Anyway, I don’t care about this, so you two decide who’s going when, so we can get this over with.”

“Alright!” Isabeau, chipper as always, grins down at Mirabelle. “Would you like to go first, oh glorious leader of our group?”

Mirabelle laughs along with the antics, but shakes her head quickly. “Oh no, you look way too excited to wait for me. Go ahead, Isabeau. I’ll go after you!”

Isabeau doesn’t need much convincing. Still grinning from ear to ear, he hurries over to the dark tent and ducks inside, leaving Mirabelle and Odile alone outside. Mirabelle rocks back and forth on her heels while she waits, unconsciously biting her nails while staring at the tent entrance.

“You’re biting your nails, Mirabelle.” Odile mentions after a few awkward seconds. “You don’t have to be nervous, this is just… well, perhaps it is a bit harsh to say it’s nonsense if the kid actually believes it. But you know what I mean.”

“I’m not… really that nervous about the fortune telling thing.” Mirabelle responds, putting her hands at her sides, gripping her clothes to keep her fingers away from her mouth..

“Then what is it? I know something’s bothering you, and it isn’t just the nail biting telling me that. You’ve been unusually quiet for the last few minutes..”

“It’s just…” Mirabelle hesitates. She shouldn’t feel this way, right? Over what could be a coincidence, or just cultural similarities. But still, her mind wanders to what might happen if she enters that tent and her worries are correct. “Siffrin… kind of reminds of the King.”

Odile inhales sharply and looks back to the tent.

“N-not in any major ways!” Mirabelle quickly revises. “They just… have the same accent, and some of the same style, and… it’s kind of dumb, right? The King has to have come from somewhere, so there’s bound to be others with his accent, culture, and even his beliefs. So it probably doesn’t mean anything, right?”

Odile just stares at the tent containing Isabeau and Siffrin with a frown. “Hmm… maybe it is a coincidence. But…” Odile trails off, falling deeper into her own head. Mirabelle just sighs, and patiently waits.

Everything’s fine. She tells herself. Whoever this Siffrin person is, I’m sure they’re lovely, and definitely not someone crazy enough to freeze a country in time. Surely there’s only one person in the world that’s crazy enough to do that.

Minutes pass by in silence, doing nothing to calm Mirabelle’s nerves. She tries listening a little harder, hoping to hear Isabeau talking, or hear any other indication that he’s alright; but the tent seems rather good at blocking out sound. But, much to Mira’s relief, Isabeau climbs out of the tent moments later. His eyes look wide and unfocused, and his cheeks have grown far darker than Mira’s seen before.

“Wow…” Isabeau says after a few seconds standing out of the tent. “You guys have to see this! This person’s… well, he’s good!”

“Oh brother…” Odile mumbles. “This isn’t the time for-”

“Anyway!” Isabeau interrupts, and waves towards Mirabelle. “Your turn, miss savior!”

“No.” Odile, holds up her hand and steps forward before Mirabelle can follow through. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m going next.”

“Oh… okay!” Mirabelle sighs in relief. Odile’s observant, so if she comes back and says it’s safe, then that’ll be a good sign. Odile dips into the tent a moment later, leaving Isabeau and Mirabelle alone for a bit. “So… what was it like?”

“It was so weird!” Isabeau laughs, crossing his arms. “I know Odile’s probably right when she says this stuff’s nonsense, but I don’t know… it really felt like this Siffrin guy knew what they were doing. Like they could see into my mind or soul, or they could really peer into the future! I… don’t want to say too much, though. I think it’ll be cooler if you go in blind.”

“But there wasn’t anything… suspicious about them?” Mirabelle presses.

“Suspicious how?” Isabeau raises an eyebrow at her. “Oh! Is that why Odile went next? Were you guys worried Siffrin’s trouble or something?”

“… Was it that obvious?”

“No, I just know you two pretty well at this point.” Isabeau shrugs before stroking his chin. “I think Siffrin’s alright, though! He seems friendly and polite. I’m not worried.”

Mirabelle smiles and nods. Isabeau isn’t an idiot, so if he’s calm about this, then she probably doesn’t have much to worry about. And so she continues waiting patiently until Odile ducks out of the tent, looking a little agitated.

“Madame, are you alright?” Mirabelle moves up, holding out a hand to the researcher.

“Just peachy…” Odile mutters, ignoring Mirabelle’s hand and standing up straight while brushing a few stray hairs back with her fingers.. “Well, they’re not immediately dangerous, but take whatever he says with a grain of salt.”

“Um… okay, Madame.” Mirabelle looks back towards Isabeau questioningly, but he only shrugs back at her in response. She sighs, takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, and steps through into the Guiding Star’s tent.

The tent flap closes behind her, leaving two dim lanterns and a slight glow coming from the stitched-in stars as the only source of light. Siffrin sits on his knees at the back of the tent, smiling warmly from behind the rim of their hat. In front of him is a cloth with the four-pointed star pattern stitched into it. The air smells like some strange mix of spice and caramel. There is a soft-looking cushion set up on the opposite end of the star cloth, which Siffrin gestures to invitingly.

“Welcome to my tent, Mirabelle.” Siffrin’s voice now drips with far more confidence than they showed outside of the tent. “Go ahead and get comfortable.”

Mirabelle takes a deep breath before sitting, cross-legged, on the cushion. “Is it weird that I feel nervous?”

“Not at all.” Siffrin reassures. “I’m guessing you’re new to tarot readings?”

“Yes, I… don’t know what to expect.”

“Well, the specifics can change a lot, depending on who’s doing the reading and where they learned it from. My method’s a little different than most. But don’t worry, I’ll guide you through it every step of the way.”

“O-okay! So… what do we do first?”

“Close your eyes, and breathe.” Siffrin smiles and demonstrates, placing a hand on his chest and taking a long, drawn out breath. “In…. and out… And keep going until I say something.”

Mirabelle follows along, closing her eyes and breathing in the same slow rhythm. Slowly and surely, the tension in her chest begins to ease up. The strange smells in the tent become stronger, the flickering of the lanterns sounds clearer, and her heart rate slows to a gentle pulse in her chest. Siffrin doesn’t tell her to stop, so she lets her mind wander as the warm air around her draws in a strangely strong feeling of peace and comfort.

Though her eyes are closed, Mirabelle sees something in the darkness behind her eyelids; a small glimmering light, right at the center of her vision. Her attention focuses in on it, and it feels… good? She can’t quite name the feeling, but it’s good, refreshing, and warm. She doesn’t even notice when her hand falls from her chest and hangs at her side.

“What do you see?” Siffrin breaks the silence gently, speaking in barely a whisper.

“I see… a light.” Mirabelle speaks in an equally calm and gentle voice. “A small… flickering light.”

“That’s good. That’s very good. That’s your star, your guiding star that burns within you. All of your hopes and dreams, all of your goals and wishes, and your passions all fuel it. Remember it, okay?”

“Okay…” Mirabelle nods, but keeps her eyes closed, wanting little more than to see this star flicker a little longer.

“Hold out your hand.” Siffrin instructs. When Mira complies, he places something in her hand. She brushes her thumb against its side, and realizes this is a deck of cards. “You don’t have to open your eyes if you don’t want to, but I want you to shuffle this deck for me. Don’t worry, they're crafted to be sturdy, so you won’t damage them.”

Mirabelle hesitates, but opens her eyes and looks down at the deck. The cards are larger and thicker than playing cards, and the backs are decorated with the night sky once again, with a large, glimmering star at the center. She takes the deck in both hands, and begins shuffling. She hasn’t done much with cards before, so it’s a bit of a clumsy job, but the cards seem mixed well enough after a minute or two.

“Good.” Siffrin encourages. “Now, I want you to hold the deck against your forehead. Think about your goal, the main goal you know you are setting out to accomplish. Close your eyes and watch your star while you do so, and then split the deck wherever you think feels right.”

Mirabelle follows along, closing her eyes and focusing once again. As she feels the paper of the cards against her head, she realizes that the strange smell in the tent is coming directly from the cards themselves. She pulls herself out of that thought and focuses on the king, the tyrant freezing her home and ending change. After a few moments, she splits the deck and opens her eyes just in time to see the new top card of the deck float up and land on the top point of the star stitched in the cloth between her and Siffrin.

“Now, hold the cards against your chest and picture yourself, your own internal struggles, and your desires. Close your eyes, and split the deck again.”

How can she be the savior of Vaugarde if she’s a fraud? She’s never changed, she doesn’t even want to change! And now she’s lying, and letting everyone believe the Change god chose her, the worst housemaiden in Dormont. ... She wants to learn to change in the way she's supposed to.  A tear falls from her cheek as another card floats up from the deck and lands at the center of the stitched star.

“Hold the deck in your dominant hand, and focus on your strength and drive. What will push you to complete your goal?”

It doesn’t matter if she’s a fraud, she’ll still do anything to save her home, her friends, and her family. And maybe, just maybe, this will help her change? If saving a country doesn’t change her, then what will? She splits the deck and another card floats to the leftmost point of the star.

“Hold the deck in your non-dominant hand, and focus on your weaknesses. What’s holding you back from winning?”

Mirabelle’s… afraid. What if she fails? Why would the head housemaiden put this burden on her, the girl who can’t even teach a single class without panicking? Why is she still nervous even when fighting the weakest of sadnesses? Another card floats from the deck after she splits it, landing on the rightmost point of the star.

“Now rest the deck in your lap, and think about the path you still have to walk. Where are you going, and how will you get there?”

There are at least four more orbs the group needs to find, and then they’ll go fight the king. There isn’t much else to it, just walk to the orbs as they reveal themselves, and walk to Dormont to face their enemy. She again splits the deck, and a fifth card lifts up and lays on the bottom point of the star.

Mirabelle opens her eyes and looks up towards Siffrin who smiles at her reassuringly before reaching down towards the cards. He picks up the card at the top of the star, and flips it over. It's a picture of eight golden goblets sitting in a circle, each one overflowing with lightless liquid. From her perspective the card is upside down, making it a little difficult to read the words “eight of cups” written at the top.

“Your enemy.” Siffrin begins, talking in a low, mesmerizing voice. “The King has lost much, and fears what else he will lose. The future is unwritten and dangerous; this terrifies him to no end. He will do anything to hold onto what he has left.”

Mirabelle remains quiet, considering what’s being said. She doesn’t like the idea that the kind might have sympathetic reasoning behind his actions. Even so, she knows she’ll still have to defeat him.

Siffrin flips over the card at the center of the star. The card reads as the “eight of pentacles,” showing eight circled stars hovering above the head of a humanoid figure reading a book intently. It’s the right way up from Mirabelle’s perspective.

“You.” Siffrin explains, giving a knowing smile. “You’re a hard worker, and an avid learner. You don’t always care about becoming the best at a craft, or even necessarily becoming competent; you just enjoy the process of trying something new and seeing where it takes you. You often find yourself using this knowledge to help others instead of yourself.”

Mirabelle’s emotions catch in her throat, but she swallows them down as Siffrin flips over the card on the leftmost point. Two figures stand side by side, each holding out a cup for the other to drink from. It’s right-side-up to Mira, and the words at the bottom read “two of cups.”

“The strength that will be most important in your coming journey. Your connection to others, the trust you put in them, and the love you feel for them. Every time you put faith in one of your friends, you’ll find yourself more likely to succeed.”

Mirabelle nods, this just makes sense to her. She’d never have made it this far if it wasn’t for Isabeau; and though Odile is newer to the group, Mirabelle knows the researcher to be far more intelligent and competent than herself. Siffrin nods back, and turns over the card on the right side of the star. A tall person, dressed in religious symbols Mirabelle doesn’t recognize, stands at the center of the card. It’s upside down, and reads as “The Hierophant.”

“The weakness you must overcome. You hold a misconception about your own god, and the beliefs they encourage. You feel like a hypocrite for not practicing what you preach, and it’s your undying faith in your belief that stops you from seeing the flaws in your own teachings.”

For a moment, Mirabelle feels rather offended. Who is this person to judge her beliefs?! But she closes her eyes and breathes a few times, calming her mind and quieting her heart. He’s not saying my religion is wrong, just that I’m missing something important. She reassures herself. I’ll file this away to deal with later.

Siffrin waits patiently for Mirabelle to keep herself calm, and smiles warmly once she nods and motions for them to continue. He reaches down and flips over the card at the bottom of the star. It’s a picture of a woman leaning against a pillar while several swords pierce her back. Her expression is one of pure agony and grief, and blood pools around her legs. The card is pointed the right way for Mirabelle, and reads as “ten of swords.”

Siffrin’s breath catches in his throat as he stares down at the card in disbelief. Mirabelle stares at him, waiting for him to continue, but he just stares silently at the image, breathing deeply.

“S-siffrin?” Mirabelle asks quietly while a little pit of worry opens up in her stomach. Siffrin looks up at her apologetically before clearing his throat and continuing.

“It’s the end of your current path.” He explains, and stares down at his hands before reluctantly continuing. “Your journey’s end won’t come when you expect it to. It will end when someone you trust betrays you.”

“What?!” Mirabelle exclaims and suddenly leaps to her feet. She stares down at the fortune teller in disbelief. Her heart starts pounding in her ears as she registers his words. “You… what? You’re saying… we’re going to lose?! And one of my friends is going to stab me in the back?!!”

Siffrin winces as Mirabelle’s voice raises, and holds out his hand as Mirabelle turns to storm out of the tent. “N-not quite! Hold on, listen for a second!”

“You told me I should trust my friends, and now you’re telling me this?!” Mirabelle continues, huffing and folding her arms. “What’s the point of this? Are you trying to stop me? Are you…”

“I didn’t draw the cards, you did!” Siffrin exclaims, standing up and holding both of his hands up. “Look… this doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll fail, or that you should abandon your friends, or… anything like that! This is just the end of your current path. But you don’t have to stay on that path. You can change it!”

“Change my path?! So you do want me to abandon my quest?! Stop trying to beat the king, and what? Abandon the country?!”

“No!” Siffrin yells, but he takes a moment to breathe and pinches the bridge of their nose. “Look, the future isn’t written in stone. This is only the end if nothing changes it. If you find out why this might happen, and put a stop to it, then your destiny won’t go down this route. Or maybe, if you just do something different from what you would normally do, but still try to accomplish your goal, then that will be enough. It’s hard to say! But this… this is just a warning, not a fact.”

Mirabelle stares daggers at Siffrin, but follows along when he motions for her to breathe like they did earlier. Once again, her beating heart and jumping nerves begin to calm down. She reminds herself that Odile told her to take what this fortune teller says with a grain of salt, and that tarot readings probably don’t actually mean anything. Even if Siffrin believes in what they’re doing, that doesn’t make them correct about any of this.

But… everything else seems to make so much sense! It almost makes Mirabelle want to… but no, none of her friends would ever betray her, this has to be nonsense, because that ending just doesn’t make any sense!

“Thank you for the reading, Siffrin.” Mirabelle sighs, successfully calming down and giving Siffrin a kind, if slightly forced, smile. “It was interesting! But, I think my friends and I need to find a place to set up camp.”

Siffrin opens his mouth, as if to try and argue, but pauses for a few seconds before nodding in resignation. “Have a good night, Mirabelle.”

Mira walks out of the tent to see Odile and Isabeau standing closer to the tent than she expected. Both look relieved to see her, but also maintain an air of concern.

“Is everything okay, Mira?” Isabeau questions. “We thought we heard yelling…”

“I’m fine.” She responds immediately. “Let’s… go find a place to camp.”

Mirabelle begins walking out of the circle of carriages quickly, folding her arms over her chest. Odile and Isabeau glance at each other, worry still evident on their faces, but they turn to follow a moment later. Mirabelle can’t bring herself to look back at them.

Someone I trust is going to betray me…

Siffrin steps out of the tent and watches as the trio of saviors leaves the troupe’s camp, and returns to the trail. They let out a long sigh, shaking their head and cursing in a language few could understand. After walking back into his tent, he immediately makes the proper hand sign and holds it up to their head with the thumb to their ear and their pinky to their mouth.

“Are you there?” Siffrin asks after thinking of who he wants to speak to.

“... Is that you, Siffrin?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, it’s good to hear from you! Is everything alright? Has something finally happened?”

“Yeah, the Saviors visited the camp just now.”

“Oh that’s great! I told you to just be patient. The universe doesn’t lie.”

“Yeah, but we have a problem.”

“Oh?”

“Their tarot readings didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, and I don’t think they’d trust me if I tried to join them right now.”

“I also told you that doing legitimate tarot readings was a risk. You can’t control if a message from the universe is going to be good or bad!”

“I know but… I don’t like faking these things.”

“Fair. Well, you still need to find a way to join up with them. You have to get to the King, and their housemaiden is the only one who can get you there!”

:”I know that! I just need a new angle!”

“... I’ll tell you what; I’ll provide another path.”

“How?”

“I’ll make a wish, how else?”

“I can do that just fine.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going to be traveling with them, you’ll need to keep your strength up. I’ll handle it this time, since the borders are going to close long before I can get into Vaugarde.”

“... Alright.”

“Great! Just follow them tomorrow morning, and I’ll provide a path. Oh, and Siffrin?”

“Yes?”

“Since you’ll be leaving the circus for this, you’ll need to erase the troupe's memory of you before you leave.”

“...”

“Siffrin?”

“I… would rather not?”

“Siffrin.”

“I haven’t told any of them anything! Why should I-”

“Telling them things isn’t the only way for them to learn things about us, Siffrin. You know we have to play this safe.”

“I just… don’t like erasing memories.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“...”

“... just do it, Siffrin. If you join up with them again after reaching the king, you can bring their memories back. But as long as you can’t watch over them, you have to make sure they don’t connect any dots while you're away.”

“... fine.”

“... good luck, Siffrin.”

“Thanks, Aster.”

Chapter Text

Death - reversed

Your enemy.  A man who refuses change, embracing stagnation in all its forms.  He is grieving a past so terrible that few could understand.  He will never let go of the past, and never look to the future.

Knight of Pentacles - upright

You.  You are the rock that your friends rely on.  When they struggle, you are the one to hold them up and push them forward.  You refuse to give in when you know your path is true, and you remain positive, even in the face of certain failure.

Queen of Cups - upright

The strength you must rely on.  Empathy and patience.  You know when others are in pain, and you are always willing to feel that pain with them.  You have the patience to help others climb higher, and the strength to keep them steady.

Eight of Swords - upright

A flaw you must overcome.  Ironically, your flaw is that you see flaws in yourself that don’t exist.  You believe that parts of yourself are unlovable, and so you hide them away from the world.  You would benefit from letting some of those parts shine from time to time.

Knight of Cups - upright

The end of your current path… Heh, it seems you’re a lucky man.  If your path continues on its current course, you will find an opportunity for love.  Whether or not you take that opportunity will be up to you.

Isabeau has always considered fortune telling, in all of its forms, to mostly exist as a sort of harmless fun.  Logically, there is very little to indicate that any of it is legitimate, but it can be encouraging and fun to have some cards, cookies, or tea leaves tell you that you’re going to have a good day or that you’ll have a bit of good luck.  With that in mind, his personal reading from Siffin went almost exactly as he thought it would.  Sure, the last card was a bit unexpected, but everything else seemed like friendly platitudes and encouragement.  None of it couldn’t be explained with the methods M’dame Odile attributes to the practice.

The meditation that Siffrin had him do at the beginning was fascinating as well.  That, plus the smells, plus the mysterious atmosphere, made the experience a lot of fun to him!  The fact he was actually able to see the star Siffrin described (and still can if he tries) is the only thing Isabeau’s rational mind can’t quite parse out.  But his own personal enjoyment of the experience doesn’t take away from the negative reactions from the other two.

M’dame Odile’s reaction makes sense to him.  She believes in fortune telling even less than Isabeau does, so going through it must have put her in a bad mood.  But Mira… Isabeau hasn’t seen Mira this upset since the defenders refused to help her.  She’s barely talked with anyone since the group left the circus, and hasn’t looked anyone in the eye either.  This behavior has lasted through until after breakfast the next morning.

Of course, Isabeau isn’t one to stand around while one of his friends is left so conflicted.  Therefore, as Odile finishes up packing her bags, he approaches Mira with a gentle and patient smile.

“Morning Mira!”  He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, relying on the similarities between his and her affinity for physical contact.  But strangely, Mira flinches at the touch, prompting Isabeau to immediately pull his hand away.

“... morning.”  Mira responds, recovering quickly and looking away.

“... And how are you doing on this fine day?”  Isabeau presses.

“Fine.”

“Uh huh…”  Isabeau folds his arms.  “Are you sure about that?”

“...”  Mira glances up at him with a sharp expression.  “I am.”

“Right.”  Isabeau nods slowly, taking a moment to decide how to go about calling her out on that obvious lie.  Ultimately he settles on letting her admit to it eventually.  “That’s good to hear, I suppose.  But I just thought I’d let you know that, if it ever turned out you weren't doing well, then I’d be happy to listen.  Anytime, no strings attached.  Alright?”

Mira hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing more.  Moments later, Odile walks up to the pair, having finished her packing later than the other two due to having slept in for several more minutes.  The three of them soon begin making their way down the trail, heading South.  The walk is done mostly in silence.  This is something that makes Isabeau uncomfortable, but Odile and Mira seem perfectly content with it for the time being.

For another couple of hours, the group makes their way through the surrounding woods, listening to the occasional rustling of foliage or the squeak of nearby rodents.  Each noise has them all on high alert, as the number of sadnesses have been rapidly increasing since the curse began.  This is especially true so close to the curse’s expanding edge, so the group needs to be ready for anything.

The tense silence is broken about an hour before noon.  Isabeau notices Mirabelle trail behind him, and instead walk next to M’dame Odile.  They begin quietly conversing, just loud enough that Isabeau can hear their voices, but not quite loud enough for him to make out any of their words.  Based on the tone, Isabeau guesses that Mira is opening up about whatever’s bothering her.  He tries to ignore that little spark of sadness that appears at the realization that she’s chosen to talk with Odile first, and rationalizes that Mira probably has just decided M’dame is better equipped to deal with her current troubles.

You were the idiot that encouraged everyone to get their fortunes read in the first place, so of course she doesn’t feel comfortable talking to you about it.

Iabeau pushes that thought to the side, knowing full well that it isn’t productive.  He instead focuses on leading the trio down the road.  She’ll talk with him when she’s ready.

Another hour goes by without note, and the saviors stop by a small clearing to grab some lunch.  As the three of them haven’t been to an active town in a few days, the meal consists mostly of dried meats, some various nuts, and a few foraged berries that Odile assures the other two are safe to eat.  While Isabeau is chowing down on his own bag of nuts, Mira approaches him.

“Oh, hey Mira!”  Isabeau grins, lowering his bag and focusing on his friend.

“Hey Isabeau…”  Mira looks down at her feet, shuffling back and forth a bit.

“Is… everything alright?”  He moves to the side to give Mira room to sit next to him in the shade of the tree he’s under.  Mira smiles and accepts the silent invitation, sliding down to her knees next to him.

“Yeah, they’re… better.”  She sighs, folding her arms over her chest.

“M’dame Odile helped, then?”

“She did…” Mira seems to catch something from Isabeau’s expression.  “N-not that I don’t think you would have helped too!  I just…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it!”  Isabeau grins, patting Mira on the shoulder again.  She smiles up at him instead of flinching this time.  “You should talk to whoever you’re most comfortable with for whatever is bothering you at any given time.  If that was Odile this time, then so be it!”

“Yeah…” Mira nods slowly, taking a few deep breaths with her eyes closed.  Isabeau wonders for a moment if she can still see that star now too.

“What… did you two talk about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh!  She just told me some stories from her life in Ka Bue.  There are apparently quite a few different kinds of fortune tellers that live there.”

“I’m guessing they aren’t that accurate?”  Isabeau raises an eyebrow and gives an amused smile.

“Not according to her, at least.”  Mira giggles, covering her mouth with one hand.  “Apparently their predictions have caused quite a bit of trouble for her hometown in the past.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”  Isabeau nods.  “Her distaste for it felt a little personal.”

“Yeah…”  Mira agrees, taking another deep breath.  “Just… hearing some silly stories like that helped calm me down.”

“I’m glad!”  Isabeau squeezes Mira’s shoulder before popping a few nuts from his bag into his mouth.

“Oh… not to be mean, of course.  I know you really like that kind of thing…”

“Nah.”  Isabeau swallows his food and gives her a shrug.  “Fortune telling can be a lot of dumb fun.  But if it upset you so much this time, then it wasn’t worth it.”

“Yeah…”  Mira sighs, folding her arms again.  “Siffrin seemed so nice, though.  I don’t understand why they’d say those things if not to discourage me or….”

“Well, maybe he really believes in it.”  Isabeau shrugs.  “Tarot cards have loosely pre-defined meanings, most of the time.  They could have just read what he thought the cards told him, regardless of whether it was good or bad.”

“I guess so.”  Mira sighs.  “How can fortune telling be fake, but the person who’s doing the fortune telling still believes it?  Wouldn’t they realize it’s fake sooner or later?”

“They probably do some of the time.”  Isabeau agrees.  “But people don’t like changing their minds once they believe in something.  You’d be surprised at just how much people are willing to look past to hold onto their beliefs.”

“That makes sense…”  Mira sighs, and leans against Isabeau.  “Sorry for ignoring you earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it!”  Isabeau wraps an arm around Mira’s shoulders and squeezes her gently.  “Don’t be sorry for needing space to think about things.”

“Still, I should have just told you I needed space instead of… that.”

“Mira, it was easy enough to figure out on my own.  Really, don’t worry about it, I forgive you.”  Isabeau chuckles when Mira huffs in disagreement.

“But-”

“Nope!”  Isabeau interrupts.  “I’ve forgiven you, and that’s all there is to it!”

Mira grumbles and playfully shoves Isabeau away before standing up.  Isabeau laughs and eats another handful of nuts and berries before climbing up to his feet.  The bag of food can be eaten on the road, and it looks like the other two are getting ready to continue.

However, as Isabeau moves to regroup with the others, something rustles through the foliage outside of the clearing.  Isabeau pauses to listen.  The noise could be any number of local animals just passing through the area, but something about it sounds… off to him.  First of all, it sounds much larger than average; and second, it sounds like it’s getting closer!

“Get down!”  Isabeau yells out in a panic as something bursts out of the woods.  Acting purely on instinct and his defender training, Isabeau leaps forward and pulls Mirabelle to the ground just as a lightless blur pounces towards her head.  It flies over both of them, landing nimbly on its feet a couple of yards away.

Its ambush hindered, the sadness spins to regard its quarry with a more critical eye, giving the fighter and housemaiden a chance to get back to their feet.  Odile rushes to regroup with the other two, pulling out her book and opening it to her notes on battle-oriented crafts.

Isabeau takes a moment to regard the enemy as he lifts his fists defensively.  The creature is extremely humanoid, but much taller than him, even as it slouches.  Its gangly arms each end in two knife-like claws held out in a standard scissors position.  Its face has no features beyond a hole in the center of its forehead that leaks salty tears around its face.  Strangely, it doesn’t sob like a standard sadness, and instead stares critically at the trio it's attacking.

“M’dame?”  Isabeau questions pensively.

“Yes, I’m on it.”  Odile holds out a hand and examines the creature.  

Isabeau can smell the distinct scent of wet paper coming from Odile’s modified creation craft.  The creature seems unconcerned with the gesture, and almost seems to patiently wait for it to be examined.

“This is… strange.”  Odile starts, taking a deep, calming breath.  “This sadness is fast, that much was clear from its initial strike.  It’s a scissors type, and it seems oddly… observant?  I don’t think this is a standard sadness.”

“How do we beat it?”  Mira asks, trying to hold back the nerves in her voice.

“For now, just be careful.  This thing is going to have tricks up its sleeve.  But until we know more, we should just try to defeat it like any other sadness.  It's a scissors type, so… Isabeau?”

“On it!”  Isabeau charges forward, filling his fist with craft as he aims his blow for the main body of the creature.  However, the creature isn’t standing there anymore when he punches.  Almost as fast as Isabeau can blink, the creature suddenly leaps to the side, sliding away from the attack and swinging back at him in response. 

“Isabeau!”  Mirabelle calls in alarm.  Isabeau feels the creature’s claws slice into his flesh behind his shoulder.  He cries out and pulls away, stumbling and holding up his fists protectively as he feels blood flow down from the gash wounds.

Mirabelle is already rushing to Isabeau’s aid, but he waves her away and gestures to attack the sadness.  The gashes aren’t fatal, and he’s a rock type, so he can deal with them later.  Mirabelle thankfully understands, and charges the sadness with her rapier as Odile casts her slow craft at it to keep it in place.  Even so, it manages to duck out of the way of Mirabelle’s attack and immediately charge Odile.

“M’dame!”  Isabeau runs to intercept the creature, but this thing’s far too quick even with the craft slowing its movements.  Odile tries to guard with her arms, but there’s only so much she can do against a scissors type, and she’s soon stumbling back with slashes across her forearms and stomach.  She grimaces but glares up at the creature defiantly.

Isabeau leaps at the creature, hoping that its focus on Odile is enough to distract it.  It seems the group isn’t that lucky, though, as it begins ducking, spinning, and sliding around to avoid Isabeau’s flurry of attacks that he sends its way.  Odile takes the opportunity to attack with her own rock craft while Mirabelle heals her.  The creature simply leaps into the air and rolls out of the way of her attack while still keeping away from Isabeau barrage.

“Gems…”  Odile steps forward and glares at the sadness that is now standing a small distance away from the group.  “Is this thing playing with us?”

“What do you mean?”  Mira asks nervously, holding her rapier defensively.  Once again, the sadness stands at a distance, waiting patiently for the group to act.

“With how this thing moves, avoiding our attacks and spinning around the battlefield, I think it could take any of us down in a few moments if it attacked seriously.”

“But who’s ever heard of a sadness acting like that?”  Isabeau ponders, backing away from the creature to regroup with the other two party members.  “Sadnesses aren’t cruel, just in pain.”

“That’s normally the case, yes.”  Odile agrees while lifting her hand and preparing to slow the creature down if it tries to attack again.  “But this thing isn’t a normal sadness.”

“So, w-what do we do?”  Mira tightens her grip on her rapier.  “Sh-should we run?”

“We wouldn’t make it far with that thing’s speed.”  Odile sighs.  “Most things have to sacrifice defense for speed.  Heavy armor or tough skin can slow things down, perhaps this follows the same logic.  I’d bet if we manage to get one or two good hits in, this thing won’t be able to recover.”

“I haven’t so much as grazed it, though!”  Isabeau points out, still catching his breath from his relentless attacking from before.

“We’ll have to get a lucky hit eventually.”  Odile grips her book tighter.  “Stay close to each other, we’ll have to play defensively and hold out until we can get a hit in.”

“R-right!” 

“We can do this!”  Isabeau shouts encouragement while holding up his fists once again.

The sadness, seemingly understanding that nobody is planning on approaching it this time, rushes forward and begins swiping at Mirabelle.  Isabeau steps in the way of the attack, and sends a crafted punch back at it in retaliation.  His only reward is a shallow gash across his chest.

Isabeau feels healing craft rush through his body as Mirabelle works to keep him upright.  At that point, the battle begins in earnest.  The Sadness attacks quickly, and Isabeau focuses on directing the hits towards himself if it doesn’t look like the original target can dodge.  Odile keeps slowing the creature down, and Mira keeps healing Isabeau so he can continue taking the hits for everyone.  Occasionally the other two try an attack, along with Isabeau’s regular punches, but nothing anyone throws at the creature seems to land.  

After several minutes, Isabeau feels his own energy fading.  He realizes with dread that he shouldn’t have been wasting his energy so quickly when none of his attacks are hitting, and now he’s reaching his limit far too soon.  Mira soon begins to fade as well.  Isabeau notices that his wounds aren’t being fully healed anymore, leaving shallow cuts and scrapes criss-crossing over his skin. 

“Do we… have a new plan yet?”  Mira asks pensively.  Odile grits her teeth and sends out another failed attack towards the sadness.

“We… might have to consider running if something doesn’t change.”  Odile concludes.

“You said it’s too fast!”

“Isabeau and I could buy you some time while you run.”  Odile suggests matter-of-factly.

“WHAT?!”  Mira shrieks, glaring at Odile with wide, disbelieving eyes.  “No, no you can’t be serious!”

Isabeau opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t get any words in before needing to defend against another slash from the enemy.

“It’s a last resort.”  Odile sighs.  “But unless something changes, that might be the best option.  You, Mirabelle, are far more vital to the saving of the country than either of us.  With Isabeau’s resilience and my slowing craft, we could ensure you get a really good head start.”

“That… wouldn’t be ideal.”  Isabeau admits, still focusing on the Sadness as it circles the group.  “But M’dame’s right.  If we can’t find a way to defeat or get away from this thing, then we could at least give you a decent chance.”

“Why me, though?!”

“Because you’re the only one who can counter the curse.  Even if we can’t win this fight, we must find a way to keep you alive!”  Odile explains quickly.  “But we’ve still got time to figure something else out.  We’ll only go through with that if there’s no other option.”

“Please…”  Mira whimpers slightly.

The group is forced back into focusing on the fight as the sadness strikes at them a few more times in rapid succession.  Isabeau isn’t quite fast enough to block a swipe at Odile, and she crumbles to the ground with a large piercing wound in her side.

“Crab!”  Isabeau swears, holding his arms out protectively around Mira and Odile.  “Mira can you…”

“I-I’m on it…” Mira drops to the ground next to Odile and begins fumbling with a crafted water.

Isabeau faces down the sadness, sending out a pair of attacks to keep its attention focused on him.  The sadness, of course, dodges the attacks effortlessly and charges Isabeau.  He grunts as he feels another claw slash against his torso, luckily not going too deep this time.  He grits his teeth and digs his heel into the ground, resolving himself to keep this thing occupied until Mira and Odile can recover.

Odile sputters, but manages to swallow the crafted water.  She groans and climbs back onto her feet with Mira’s help.  Mira crafts some healing into Odile, and they both turn back to Isabeau to see him stumbling and struggling to hold himself on his feet while the sadness continues slashing and piercing into any openings it can find in the fighter’s defenses.

“Isabeau!”  Mira calls and begins hurrying over to him.  He frowns and tries backing up towards her, even if he knows her healing craft will be on cooldown for a little while.  Perhaps she has a spare tonic.

There isn’t time for Isabeau to find out, however, as the sadness charges at Mira.  Isabeau leaps at it, trying to grasp one of its arms to stop its charge, but it slips away from Isabeau’s grip before he can get a firm hold, and it slashes down at the vulnerable housemaiden.  Mirabelle crumbles, and Isabeau’s heart sinks.  He strikes once again to get the sadness to focus on him, and calls out to Odile.

“Get Mirabelle up and tell her to run!”  Isabeau cries, rushing the sadness aggressively.  He has to keep that thing occupied, even for just a few more seconds.

Odile nods, but her expression is grim.  Both she and Isabeau know that they’ve run out of time too fast, and they might not be able to do much at this rate.  But they have to try, no matter how bad the odds are.

Isabeau feels another claw cut at his back.  He sways in place, struggling to keep himself upright.  Luckily, the sadness seems glad to keep focusing on him, and extends its claws in preparation to finally knock out the fighter of the group.  Mirabelle wakes up as the group’s last crafted water is used on her.  Odile helps her to her feet, and they both look worriedly towards Isabeau, who lifts his arms to defend against an attack he can’t possibly hope to endure.

“ISABEAU!” Mirabelle cries as she tries to rush towards him.  Odile, looking horrified but determined, grabs Mira’s arm and pulls her back.

“Just run!”  Odile orders the housemaiden; though Isabeau can hear the researcher’s voice crack a bit at the command.

It’s too late. Isabeau realizes with horror.  M’dame’s not going to last long against this thing, and I’m about to go down.  Mira won’t get far… But even so, he once again grinds his heels in the dirt and prepares to try to tank one more hit.  The sadness swings downwards.  

“DODGE!”  A familiar voice cries out.  Isabeau doesn’t have time to figure out who it is.  An unknown craft courses through his body, and the sadness’s attack suddenly seems slower and clumsier than it was a moment before.  Gritting his teeth, Isabeau leaps to the side, and surprises himself with just how nimbly his injured body moves.

Speed buff…   Isabeau realizes as he pulls himself to his feet and looks around.  Back towards the road, panting as though they’ve been sprinting for the last hour, stands Siffrin with an arm extended towards the group.

“Where did…”  Odile begins, but is cut off when the sadness makes an unexpected shrieking noise.  It angrily charges towards the small fortune teller, who looks up in a slight panic.  He leaps to the side with similarly enhanced speed, avoiding the first attack and throwing an object towards the group in the same motion.

“Attack with that!”  They cry out as he avoids both a second and a third attack with surprising grace.  The clear beads hanging from his hat jingle and ding loudly with each of his movements; he occasionally swings a dagger at the sadness, but it continues avoiding Siffin’s attacks like it did for everyone else. Even though Siffrin seems nervous, they similarly seem impossible for the sadness to hit as the two dodge around each other in an almost dance-like display.

Isabeau shakes his head to clear his thoughts and rushes to the object Siffrin tossed toward him.  It seems to be a thick rope with three large knots at the bottom.  The knots are designed to look like stars, apparently following the theme Siffrin seems to hold themself to.

Not entirely sure what he’s doing, Isabeau takes the rope and runs towards Siffrin and the Sadness.  Odile and Mirabelle begin running too, also enhanced by the buff Siffrin put on them.  Isabeau, however, has the rope, so he’s the one apparently equipped to deal with this thing if the fortune teller is to be believed.

As Isabeau reaches the fight again, he grips tightly to the rope in one of his hands, and tries to punch the sadness.  Nothing particularly special happens, and the sadness once again leaps out of the way of the attack and swipes towards Siffrin again, who ducks out of the way just as nimbly.

“Channel your craft through it!”  Siffrin instructs.  His breath is growing strained, and Isabeau recognizes that they probably can’t keep up their dance for long, especially with how intently focused the sadness is on him.  Odile slows the sadness down again, giving Siffrin a bit more room to work with for each attack.

Isabeau focuses his craft, directing it partially through the rope as he musters up his strength for another attack.  A strangely sweet scent fills his nostrils along with the earthy scent of his usual protection craft.  There is little time to think about that, though, so he rears back and throws his punch.

He expected something flashy, something like an area attack that would be difficult for the sadness to avoid.  Instead, his attack just hits?  Isabeau stands frozen in shock for a moment as he sees his fist buried in a particularly soft spot on the sadness’s torso, pouring aggressive craft into the beast’s body.  The creature shrieks and pulls away, stumbling and falling to its feet as its body begins dissolving into nothing.  The sound of the shriek is replaced with the clattering of a large, clear crystal that falls from its dissipating head and onto the stones below it. It’s a bit too large to comfortably fit in someone’s palm.  Curious, Isabeau leans down and picks up the object to inspect while he catches his breath.

Mirabelle rushes over to Isabeau and places a hand on him to pour healing craft into his injured body.  He lets out a sigh of relief, even though none of the cuts close fully due to the party’s mutual exhaustion.  M’dame Odile tucks her book away and leans down with her hands braced on her knees to catch her breath.  Siffrin, however, is staring with concern at the crystal Isabeau picked up.

“Could you… give me that?”  Siffrin asks, holding out his hand towards Isabeau.

“What is it?”  Isabeau asks as he reaches out and places the crystal in Siffrin’s hand.  Odile makes a sound of protest a moment too late.

“It’s um… a fragment of someone’s mind.” Siffrin explains, tucking the crystal away in his cloak.  “All sadnesses have one.”

“Really?”  Isabeau’s unable to fully hide the skepticism in his voice.  “We’ve defeated quite a few sadnesses already, and I’ve never seen one drop this.”

“This one is really large.”  Siffrin explains. “Most of the time the fragment is as small as a grain of sand.  It just contains a few strong emotions, and maybe an image or fragment of a memory or two.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”  Odile points out rather bluntly.  “I’ve never heard of any of this.”

“If that’s true…”  Seeing a potential for conflict, Isabeau diverts.  “Then that must be a huge part of someone’s mind.”

“I’d say it’s about a sixth of someone’s mind.”  Siffrin agrees.  “Enough that if it’s destroyed or damaged, it will cause that person a lot of harm.  I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Aren’t minds like… made of meat and flesh and stuff?”  Mira asks, looking to be a little uncomfortable challenging Siffrin’s knowledge.

“Yes.”  Siffrin agrees and smiles reassuringly.  “This is more… symbolic?  The mind can appear as a crystal outside of the brain, even if it is still technically a part of the brain.”

“Like a physical manifestation of the abstract.  Kind of metaphorical, but still with physical truths to it.”  M’dame Odile suggests.

“Yeah, that works.”

“I… still don’t understand.”  Mira admits.

“I don’t really follow either.”  Isabeau pats Mira on the shoulder.

“It’s not that important.”  Odile assures, and turns back towards Siffrin.  “What I think is more pressing at the moment is what exactly you are doing here.  Wasn’t your troupe moving North?  The direct opposite of where we’re going?”

“... Yes.”  Siffrin agrees slowly, staring down at his feet.  “I… may have been following you.”

“Oh?”  Odile folds her arms and stares down at the fortune teller.  “And why would you be doing that?”

“... To help?”  Siffrin offers hopefully.

“Help?”  Mira asks, tilting her head to the side a bit.  “With the sadness?”

“... yes, but-”

“And how would you have known that we’d need help with a sadness?”  Odile doesn’t even try to hide the accusatory tone in her voice.  

“I- I didn’t know you’d need help with a sadness specifically. ”  Siffrin hurriedly explains.  “I just knew you’d need help!”

“But how ?” Odile presses.

“I am a seer, you know.”  Siffrin points out with a huff.

“Oh please…”  Odile rolls her eyes.

“... really?”  Isabeau feels a little spark of excitement at the idea, but he tries not to show it off too strongly.  Based on M’dame Odile’s scowl, he doesn’t succeed.

“Yeah!”  Siffrin’s eyes light up a bit at Isabeau's inquiry.  “I’ve been getting readings telling me about a new journey and being involved in a struggle against a rising threat for a while now.  It’s… how I guessed you’d all show up at our caravan at some point.”

“So… it’s real?  Your tarot readings?”  Mira asks nervously.

“Tarot readings aren’t real.”  M’dame Odile assures her. She continues glaring down at Siffrin, who looks away nervously.

“But they are!”  They argue stubbornly.  “Mine are real, at least…”  M’dame Odile just rolls her eyes in response.

“So… when you say you followed us to help, you didn’t just mean with the sadness.”  Isabeau points out.

“... That’s right.”  Siffrin nods with uncertainty.  “I… want to join you all to defeat the king, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”  M’dame Odile pinches the bridge of her nose. “And we’re just supposed to trust you?”

“Well, they did just save us.”  Isabeau can’t help but point out.  Something about Siffrin’s hopeful expression makes the defender want to defend them.

“And… we could use all the help we can get.”  Mira points out.  “And he’s shown he can help out.”

“I’m not much of a fighter…” Siffrin explains slowly.  “But I know tricks that can help you guys fight.”

“You seemed to be doing just fine against that Sadness.”  M’dame Odile points out.

“I can dodge , and I have a knife, but… I don’t use crafted attacks.  So I’ll never deal out much damage.”

“I see.”  M’dame Odile sighs, shaking her head.  “Well, it’s up to you, Mirabelle.”

“I don’t have a problem with it… so sure, you can help!”  Mira answers after only a few moments of hesitation.  But any hesitation at all is of note to Isabeau.  If Mira, of all people, is reluctant to trust Siffrin after he just saved their lives, then her tarot reading must have really affected her.

“That’s… great!”  Siffrin grins widely.  “I’ll help out however I can!”

“Great…” M’dame Odile mutters, but she offers no resistance to this.

“I’m glad to have you with us!”  Isabeau cheers, patting Siffrin on the shoulder.  Siffrin winces, hard, at the physical contact.  The smile on their face immediately drops.  Isabeau awkwardly pulls his hand away.  “Sorry…”  Apparently physical contact is a no-go with this one.

Siffrin clears his throat and recovers quickly.  “Oh, I dropped my bag when I saw you were all in danger.  Let me go and grab it really quick!”  He rushes back up the road a moment later, leaving the other three alone to wait for him.

“I hope this doesn’t come back to bite us…”  M’dame Odile mutters with an accompanying sigh.

“I think it’ll be fine…”  Isabeau isn’t sure why he’s so eager to defend this newcomer, but he can’t deny his desire to do so.

“Of course you think that.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him…”  Mira clutches her skirt tightly.  “I think they're a good person, though.”

“We’ll certainly see.”  M’dame leaves the conversation there, as the group waits for their sudden fourth member to rejoin them.

Siffrin comes trotting over with a rather adorable (in Isabeau’s opinion) gleam in his eye, now carrying a standard traveling bag on his back.  All of the beads hanging from their clothes continuously clatter against each other with each of their steps.

“Well, at least we’ll always know where they are.”  M’dame mutters before Siffrin gets into ear shot.

“Oh!”  Isabeau suddenly remembers something, and holds the rope out towards Siffrin.  The rope now has one less knot on it, leaving two towards the bottom end of the rope.  “I don’t know what this did, but it certainly helped!  Thanks for lending it to me!”

“You can hold onto it.”  Siffrin waves a dismissive hand.  “It only works with crafted attacks, so I wouldn’t even use it anyway.”

“Oh!”  Isabeau tucks the rope away in his pack.  “Thanks buddy!”

Siffrin smirks and eyes Isabeau playfully.  “Of course!  It’s knot a big deal!  I’m sure it’ll be useful if we're ever in another bind .”

Oh Change…

That night, as the group makes camp, Siffrin separates from the group under the guise of needing to relieve themself.  Once they’re a decent ways away from the others, he takes a deep breath and holds his hand up to his ear again.  Before completing the craft, they contemplate which of his aspects to bring to the forefront of his mind for this conversation.  Voyant doesn’t seem correct for this situation.  Défi certainly feels a lot more apt.

As they focus, the corresponding memories they’ve collected come to the forefront of his mind, such as that time he refused to do chores and still managed to get their allowance for the week, or that time they refused to eat some vegetables and… well, it’s best not to dwell too much on that memory.  Instead, he focuses on Aster again to start up another conversation.

“So that was your grand plan? Really?!”

“Oh, good evening Siffrin.  How are you?”

“Well… I woke up late, so I had to sprint to catch up to the saviors.  I found them almost dead because of that sadness you sent after them, and then had to save their lives.”

“Ah, sound’s like you had quite an exciting day!”

“You do realize you could have killed them, right?  What would I have done then?!”

“I made sure it knew not to kill them.  It was just there to make them desperate so you could save the saviors and make it look nice and heroic.”

“And if you had lost control, what then?”

“I didn’t  lose control, did I?”

“But you could have!”

“Not with that much of my own mind implanted into it.”

“... what?  That’s… your mind fragment?”

“Of course!  When my wish gave me the ability to make sadnesses, it was too great an opportunity to give up.”

“That is… so risky!”

“Not really.  I have allies who can help rebuild my mind if it gets shattered.”

“But why take that risk at all!?  Having your mind get shattered isn’t… pleasant.”

“Well, I have to get into the country somehow!  Sadnesses don’t get frozen by the curse, so they’re an ideal vessel to get my mind across the border, even if it has to happen piece by piece.”

“You sent it here all the way from home?! How did it…”

“It can go a lot faster than you saw.”

“Apparently.”

“Look, I know that was probably upsetting to you.  But you have to trust me on this, alright?  Are you traveling with them now?”

“Yes…”

“Then it all worked out!  I’ll keep sending my mind fragments in over the next few months via sadnesses.  You can piece me together once the last one gets there, and then I’ll be right there to help you out during this journey!”

“Could you maybe make them less aggressive next time?”

“We’ll see!”

Chapter Text

The Hanged Man - Upright

Your Goal.  Hm… it seems you’re not here simply to fight a tyrant.  You’re looking for something for yourself as well; to gain insight into your own identity, and to seek change that you only recently realized that you wanted.

Ace of Swords - Upright

You.  You are an incredibly clever person.  You’re observant, tactical, and sharp-witted to a fault.  Though I also feel you have a softer, more illuminating side to yourself that you don’t show as often.

Page of Swords - Upright

Your great strength.  You maintain a clear and rational mind, even in the face of harsh or uncomfortable situations.  New and unexpected situations do little to unsettle you, making you an inspiring leader.

Two of Swords - Reversed

Wow, you really seem to like the sword suit…  You sure you're not a piercing type?

Ahem… Anyway, your weakness to overcome.  You seem to fixate on the negatives in life and in other people.  You’re reluctant to trust, and there are certain beliefs you struggle to accept, and truths you fail to acknowledge.

Six of Swords - Upright

The end of your current path.  I sense love in your near future!  But, I don’t think that type of love is romantic… more familial?  Yes, you’ll find the family you were searching for, in one way or another.  But do not expect it to occur exactly as you’d expected.

Cold reading may make some sense.  If they’re familiar with Ka Bue and Vaugardian physical traits, he may have guessed my lineage. Then, due to my accent being foreign, he could have inferred some degree of my motivations for being in Vaugarde.  They could have then observed my reactions to each line of the last card, and honed in on specifics.  Impressive, to be sure, but still manipulative.

Odile peeks up from her journal as she writes, taking stock of her allies and the newcomer.  Siffrin, after returning from his short trip into the woods, has laid themself on top of a fallen tree.  Though his eyes are closed, his posture tells Odile that they’re keeping an open ear to Isabeau and Mirabelle’s conversation.  Luckily, at the moment, it seems Mirabelle is simply discussing the plot of some book or another.  Nothing about it is compromising or too revealing, so Odile looks back down to continue her transcribed thoughts.

The timing of the sadness attack with Siffrin’s arrival is suspect.  He said he wished to work with us, and so they followed us.  How convenient is it that they arrived exactly when we most needed help?  And that sadness is suspect too.  Sure, it’s behavior could be explained away with its large “mind fragment,” but that’s assuming Siffrin’s knowledge on the matter is accurate.  Even in my past studies involving crafted entities, I’ve never heard of mind fragments, let alone their importance to sadness creation.  If he’s wrong about this, then there is no explanation for the sadness’s power.  If he’s right, then he knows details on crafted entities that would be revolutionary to the field, and would change it forever.  Either option is suspect.

There is also the matter of Mirabelle’s tarot reading.  She confided in me that he foretold a betrayal by someone she trusts.  This, ironically, made her more comfortable talking about the subject with me.  Isabeau and her have a very close bond, ever since he abandoned his life to help her.  The trust between them runs deep, and so the idea of him betraying her probably hurts more than it would with me.  It is quite the paradox, to be trusted with information specifically because you are the least trusted in the group.  But regardless, this reading has left Mirabelle in quite the troubled mood, and Siffrin is the one who did that to her.  That alone should be enough to assume his potential ill-intent.

Odile glances back up, and finds that the casual conversation between Mirabelle and Isabeau seems to have ended.  Mirabelle has pulled out a map and spread it out across a large rock near the campfire.  Siffrin, it seems, has taken notice and is standing up to approach.  Odile follows.

“So, how are things looking, Mira?”  Isabeau prompts.  Isabeau… kind, trusting, and reliable Isabeau.  Odile has been quick to notice how his emotional openness has left him vulnerable to Siffrin’s manipulation.

“We’re getting close, I think?”  Mirabelle’s uncertainty bleeds into her tone.  She, like most housemaidens, is overtly trusting and encouraging to others.  This, too, leaves her vulnerable to manipulation.  Her anxiety is clearly the weakness one would exploit if trying to manipulate her. “I think we’ve got about a day and a half until we get to the ruins.”

“Ruins?”  Siffrin inquires, fishing for information.  “What ruins?  And how is this related to defeating the king?”

“Oh!  Well, you see, we found-”

“Ahem!”  Odile clears her throat loudly and obviously, prompting Isabeau to cease his sentence and turn to the researcher.  “Perhaps it is a bit premature to be freely sharing such vital information?”

All three members of the party turn to look at Siffrin, who shrinks a little into their cloak under the scrutiny.

“Hm…”  Mirabelle considers things for a few moments.  “But it’s not like he won’t find out in a couple of days, right?”

“Then they can afford to be patient in that time.”  Everyone squirms, but thankfully nobody seems eager to verbally object to Odile’s suggestion.  Siffrin looks at her with… annoyance?  Hurt?  It doesn’t matter.  Caution, however, very much matters.

After a few long, awkward seconds, Mirabelle rolls up her map and sticks it into her backpack before pulling out a few bags of ingredients.

“I’ll uh… it’s my turn to make dinner, so I’ll get started.”  She mumbles, and begins slicing vegetables.  Based on the herbs and root bulbs she’s using, Odile guesses that she’s planning on making simple roasted vegetables.  It’s not the fanciest meal, but it’s about as good as one can expect while on the road for so long.

Siffrin heads back to the log he was pretend-napping on earlier.  Odile begins heading back to her past seat, pulling out her journal to continue transcribing her thoughts.  However, Isabeau's firm hand on her shoulder prevents this.  He nods his head to the side, signaling her to follow.  Without a word, the two of them step out to just past camp.

“So… you’re more suspicious of Siffrin than I thought, huh?”  Isabeau prompts.

“So it seems.”  Odile sighs, shaking her head.  “I don’t understand this part of Vaugardian culture.  This… blind trust.  Usually, if you find yourself with an unusual problem, and someone randomly happens to show up with the solution, that’s cause to assume that them showing up wasn’t random. Especially if that person displays advanced knowledge of the problem!”

“Hm…”  Isabeau frowns and folds his arms.  He stares down at the ground and lightly kicks a pebble a few feet.  “He doesn’t seem malicious, though.”

“And you’re sure you have no… sudden irrational emotions getting in the way of your critical thinking, here?”

Isabeau’s face grows dark.  “I-I…”  He stammers, but shakes his head quickly.  “I’m fully capable of separating my emotions from my logic, thank you very much.”

“Sure you are.”  Odile folds her arms and shuts her eyes.  “Look, the reality is that there are reasons for immediate suspicion when it comes to Siffrin.  Perhaps he’ll prove me wrong.  Perhaps not.  Either way, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“You say that now, but if this causes conflict between us all…”

“If that becomes an issue, we can talk about it then.  But until then, I’m going to keep an eye on him.  And I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to stop me.”

Isabeau stares at her for several long seconds, before sighing and nodding.  “Alright, fine.  I won’t try to get in the way.  But please, try to be a bit more delicate about this?  Being too confrontational isn’t going to help anything.”

“... I suppose I can try.”  Odile concedes before turning away from the former defender.  “Oh, but one more thing while we’re out here.  Could I borrow that rope Siffin gave you?”

“Oh!  Um… sure, I guess.  Why?”

“I’m going to look it over tonight.  I want to figure out what crafts Siffrin knows.”

Siffrin seems eager to gather information.  I can tell, based on their body language, that they are always listening to what we are saying.  Perhaps he’s a spy of some kind?  But why would a spy spend so long traveling with a circus of all things?  And how would they communicate with their superior?

“I can help keep watch tonight, if you guys want.”  Siffrin smiles warmly at everyone as he makes his offer.  The sun is setting gently over the horizon, and the party prepares to bed for the night.  “You may have noticed I enjoy the night sky.”

“Not a ch…”  Odile clears her throat and shakes her head.  “I mean, I’d prefer we wait on that, for now.  I’ll take the first watch, Isabeau will take the second, and we’ll finish with Mirabelle.”

Siffrin, to his credit, doesn’t argue the topic, and simply nods and makes his way to his tent.  Mirabelle and Isabeau both nod to her, acknowledging the arrangement, before making their way to their own tents.  Odile simply finds a comfortable spot to sit near the fire.  Once everyone else is tucked away and out of sight, she pulls out the rope Isabeau had passed to her after dinner.

Upon a closer inspection, it becomes clear that the rope is quite finely made.  The material making it up is a silvery pale shade, and it’s woven together in a sharp, decorative pattern.  On the ends, Odile can see that there are thin cords of some kind of metal woven into the center of it.  She guesses it’s copper, based on the shade.

The two knots at the bottom of the rope are similarly intricate.  In fact, the rope loops into itself so many times with both of the knots, that Odile suspects the rope would be at least twice as long if the knots were untied.  It’s a bit hard to parse out how Siffrin managed to get some of the sharper angles on the knot, which allows the knot to appear star-like.

As unique as the design is, that isn’t what’s most important about this item.  Odile carefully holds her hand out, and begins slowly and meticulously using her examine craft, where she works to unravel the craft that’s been threaded into the object.

Immediately, a sugary scent fills Odile’s nostrils.  It isn’t overpowering, but it is extremely noticeable, and a bit bothersome.  As she focuses and tries to glean information and data, she’s frustrated to find any potential extra details slipping out of her mind’s grasp.  A headache begins blossoming in the back of her skull while the object seems to resist her prying.  Eventually, she’s forced to give up.  The headache begins to recede immediately.  Frustrated, she stuffs the rope back into her pockets to return to Isabeau later.

It has long been theorized that there is an unknown type of craft that produces a sweet smell.  The smell of Siffrin’s craft matches this description.  How the gems did Siffrin get ahold of a craft that’s unknown and only theorized about by the rest of the world?!  This is cause for great concern.  If they know crafts so completely unknown to me, how can I prepare for potential conflicts with them?  I’ll have to learn more.

The next day of travel goes by without any serious risks or problems.  Siffrin hangs back near the rear of the group, making him hard to observe without making it too obvious.  Odile resigns herself to traveling in front of them, and focusing on listening closely for any sign of trouble coming from the supposed seer.

This, of course, leads to a moment of panic when Odile feels Siffrin’s craft wash over the party out of nowhere.  When she spins around in panic, reaching for her book, Siffrin just smiles at her and points ahead of the group with a glimmer in his eye.

“A sadness is about to crawl out of the woods, I’m just buffing us early.”

Sure enough, five seconds later, the lightless form of a sadness emerges from the foliage.  Preemptively buffed with speed, the group manages to quickly overwhelm the sadness, defeating it before it has a chance to act.  Afterwards, Siffrin received a prompt scolding from Odile about putting craft on the group without warning.  For a moment, Odile sees the confident mask slip from Siffrin’s face, and he eventually agrees to warn the group before using craft on them.

From that point on, the journey South goes shockingly smoothly.  Siffrin accurately warns the group each time a sadness is about to appear and speeds everyone up.  The sadnesses rarely have a chance to act before being destroyed.  And when they do survive long enough to attack, they usually go for Siffrin, who effortlessly leaps out of the way.  It turns out he’s rather talented at goading sadnesses into focusing on them.  Afterwards, he usually glances at Odile with this ridiculously annoying smirk that seems to emit his particularly loud thoughts.  See how I’m helping?  See how my predictions are coming true?  Do you see it, old lady?  Do you understand yet?

Keep trying. Odile wants to retort. I’ll figure you out eventually.

Siffrin is a performer, that much is obvious.  In his time traveling with the circus, or perhaps before that, he’s become adept and playing the part of a confident entertainer.  But the performance he puts on can’t hold out forever.  I see it slip, the character he puts on.  The confidence washes away the moment you peek behind the mask.

The evening is chilly today, prompting everyone to sit around the campfire while Isabeau prepares the night’s meal.  After filtering water from a nearby stream, Isabeau begins preparing some kind of stew or soup.  Honestly, though not very creative, it’s likely going to be a heartier meal than usual for the group’s days of continued travel.

Mirabelle, in an effort to distract herself from her worries, has buried her nose in some horror book or another.  Siffrin sits cross-legged in front of the flames, carving into a piece of wood he found on the side of the road.  Odile grits her teeth and ignores the random muttering he does every few minutes into his carving.  Finding herself in need of a distraction, Odile takes the opportunity to focus on another member of the group.

“So… soup again, Isabeau?  I swear, you are easily the least creative cook I’ve met.”

“Hey!”  Isabeau smirks, taking the teasing well, as always.  “Soup’s good!  It’s a classic, and there’s no need to ruin a tried and true meal.”

“At least add a bit of flavor, this time!”  Odile smirks and pats her bag.  “I’ve got a few ingredients that would go really well with this.”

“Keep your devil spices away from my soup!” Isabeau plays up his reaction, staring pretend daggers in Odile’s direction.

Mirabelle giggles.  “Careful Isabeau, it’s her turn to cook tomorrow.  Do you want to encourage her?”

Isabeau’s eyes widen in sudden panic.  “Oh!  What I meant to say was… I appreciate your completely valid input, M’dame.  Your love of spice is completely valid, and feel free to add some to your own bowl once I’m done!”

“It’s better when you cook the spices into the soup.”  Odile playfully laments.  “If only our cook could handle more than a bell pepper without dying, we might finally have a good meal.”

“You’re giving him too much credit.”  Mirabelle interjects.  “He’d die, even with a bell pepper.”

“Bell peppers are plenty spicy!”  Isabeau argues, unsuccessfully attempting to keep his expression defiant.

“I swear, when we first started traveling out of Jouvente, I heard him complain about how spicy ketchup can be!”

“Oooh, that’s truly pathetic, Isabeau.”

“Lies!  Slander!”  Isabeau’s face grows ever darker, but he continues playing along and clutches at his chest.  “How can you be so cruel, housemaiden.”

“You guys should be nicer to your defender. Stop teasing him.”  Siffrin suddenly jumps in, looking up from their carving with a deadpan expression.  His tone is completely serious.

“O-oh, don’t worry about it.”  Isabeau starts to explain.  “They were just-”

“Because…”  Siffrin interrupts, suddenly gaining a playful gleam in his eyes.  “It doesn’t look like he can take the heat .”

Silence.  Siffrin waits patiently, glancing at the three of them in turn with expectation.

Mirabelle’s the first to crack, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle a small fit of giggles.  Isabeau falls apart next, covering his face with both of his hands and cracking up in only slightly muffled uproarious laughter.

“Nooo…” Isabeau laments through his laughter.  “All of my allies have betrayed me, how can I possibly go on?!”

“Alright, children, that’s enough playing for now.”  Odile, rather expertly, fights off the urge to smirk at the antics.  I can’t let my guard down right now.

It takes several seconds before Isabeau composes himself.  But eventually he takes a deep breath, and returns to stirring his pot of soup to avoid letting it burn.  Occasionally he pauses to chuckle for a few more seconds.  

Siffrin looks unbelievably proud of himself.  They gather up the wood scraps left over from their woodcarving, and toss them into the fire Isabeau is cooking with.  They mumble something else under their breath as they do so.  A prayer, perhaps?

“But really,” Siffrin wipes the remaining wood dust off of his hands and looks up at Isabeau.  “Being spice-intolerant isn’t something to be ashamed of.  Maybe we could get in the habit of making you separate portions when any of us want a bit more spice in our meals.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!”  Mirabelle exclaims eagerly.  “Maybe a bit more work, but if it’ll keep Isabeau’s taste buds from burning off…”

“Ah, I don’t want you to have to go through the trouble, though.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Isabeau.”  Odile concedes.  “If it’ll lead to me getting some actual flavor in my meals, I’ll welcome it!  So yes… that’s a fair idea, Siffrin.”

“It’s what my mom used to do for my stepmom most nights.”  Siffrin explains.  “My mom couldn’t live without her, as Odile puts it, real flavor.  So she happily put in the effort.”

“Oh, was your stepmom like Isabeau?”  Mirabelle inquires with unrestrained curiosity.

“Almost exactly like him!”  Siffrin laughs and folds his arms.  “At least when it comes to spice. The first night my mom invited my stepmom over for dinner at our place, my stepmom ended up puking after eating the curry my mom made.  They both wouldn’t stop apologizing to each other after that.  My mom felt guilty putting my stepmom through that, and my stepmom was horrified that she’d puked out the dinner my mom made for her.”

“Ha!”  Isabeau exclaims happily.  “Your stepmom knew what’s up, everyone else is crazy!”

“Yeah… I…”  Siffrin’s expression and tone begins to shift, immediately prompting everyone to look over to him.  He suddenly looks… lost?  Confused?  Sad?  Odile starts to notice a new smell cut through the scent of the cooking soup.  Is that… static?

“Siffrin?”  Mirabelle inquires, moving towards the fortune teller cautiously.

“Give me a second…” Siffrin shakily gets up on his feet, and begins walking away from the group.  He looks… determined, all of the sudden.  He lifts up a hand, and makes a strange sign in front of his forehead.  A fist, but with the thumb and pinky sticking out.  The static in the air grows several times more dense, completely overpowering the scent of the forest and the brewing meal.

This is craft!   Odile recognizes with panic.  But right as she leaps to her feet and prepares to run towards Siffrin, the static in the air dissipates all at once.  As the scent of the forest returns, Siffrin is left gasping for air, kneeling down while clutching something tightly in his right hand.

“What was that?”  Mirabelle’s anxiety seems to be on full blast now.

Siffrin slowly holds up their hand, opening it to show a small, crystal bead sitting in their palm.  The exact same kind of bead as those hanging from his hat and sewn into his cloak.  He takes several more seconds to catch his breath before responding.  His voice remains unstable and quiet.

“S-sorry… I had to capture it before it left…”

“What?”  Isabeau presses, slowly approaching Siffrin with worry.

“The memory…”

Something clicks in Odile’s mind.  The static smell, the strange hand symbol, Siffrin’s confidence and manipulation, and even the tarot readings and certain aspects of it.

“Mind craft.”  Odile concludes aloud, folding her arms and taking a long breath.  “You know mind craft.  Of course you do.”

“Oh!”  Isabeau nods.  “That makes sense.”

“Oh!  I’ve never seen mind craft before.  It’s kind of scary…”  Mirabelle laughs nervously.

Siffrin smiles and nods.  “I agree, it is.”

Odile stares in bafflement at all three of the others.  Gems alive, how are they all so nonchalant about this?!

“You can’t be serious…”  Odile finds herself unable to stop from interjecting.  “You’re all fine with them knowing mind craft?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”  Isabeau looks up at her curiously.

“Why wouldn’t you… Isabeau!”  Odile raises her arms in exasperation.  “Do you realize just how dangerous and manipulative mind craft is?!  If Siffrin knows how, they could alter our memories, control our emotions, or even take full control of our minds!  It is a big deal for anyone to know mind craft.  That’s why it’s banned in most countries!”

“Well… it’s not banned in Vaugarde.”  Mirabelle counters softly.

“Yeah.” Isabeau agrees. “I didn’t go through with it, but they let you use mind craft if you Change.  Though they do suggest only using it as a last resort.”

“A-and they use it to make medications, sometimes.”  Mirabelle explains.  “I know some anxiety medications that use a bit of mind craft to push things in the right direction.”

Odile clenches her fists and sighs, shaking her head.  She takes some time to remind herself that there are some differences between cultures that she apparently can’t fully reconcile.  Plus, she needs to keep a calm head.  She takes a long, deep breath, and looks back towards Siffrin.

“Using mind craft for your own health or to Change yourself is one thing, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t use it on me.  Ever again. ”

“I haven’t used it on you!”  Siffrin exclaims, suddenly looking panicked.  “I hate using it on other people, I just…”

“That’s a lie, and you know it!”  Odile growls.  “How else would you have known so much during our tarot readings?”

Siffrin suddenly looks shockingly angry.  “I don’t use mind craft in my readings.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”  Odile glares down at the fortune teller.

“Hold on, hold on.”  Isabeau steps between them and holds a palm up at Odile.  “Let’s calm down and think for a second, M’dame.  I know you’re upset but, listen… mind craft seems to have a really strong, really obvious smell.  I think we would have noticed if they used it on us during our tarot readings.”

Unless they altered our memories to make us forget about it.   Odile sighs and shakes her head at that thought.  Doing both actions with mind craft simultaneously would have been far too advanced for almost anyone.  She backs down and nods.

“Alright… alright, I see your point.  Just…”  Odile folds her arms and looks down, realizing she lost her cool again.  “Sorry.”

Siffrin pulls himself to his feet and give Odile a gentle smile.  “It’s alright.  Trust me, you don’t have to remind me how harmful mind craft can be.  I understand your… reluctance with it.”

“Mind craft can be really messed up if used on you against your will.”  Isabeau agrees.  “Any craft can.  I can’t imagine my horror if I found out someone used body craft on me without my permission.”

“Oh Change, I’ve read about that happening. Those are my least favorite kind of horror stories.”  Mirabelle shivers at the thought.  “And by that I mean I read them all the time.”  She adds under her breath.

The tension in the air fades, and all four members of the group begin to return to the fire after a few seconds of awkward silence.  Siffrin tucks the new memory bead away in their cloak as they take a seat.  Odile, though still cautious, lets herself relax as Isabeau passes out bowls of soup to everyone.

“I’m curious, if you don’t mind me asking…”  Isabeau mentions as he hands Siffrin his bowl.  “You said you had to capture your memory before it left?”

Siffrin shift uncomfortably, and gingerly takes the soup before looking away.

“S-sorry, it’s not any of my business.”  Isabeau quickly backtracks.

“No… it’s alright.”  Siffrin sighs.  “It’s not that big of a deal, I just have a few memory problems.  Sometimes I briefly remember something I’ve forgotten, and if I don’t capture the memory quickly, it goes away again.”

“That’s… interesting… and horrible!  I’m sorry to hear that you have to go through that.”

Siffrin hums in acknowledgement, and takes a bite of his bowl of soup.  Everyone else quickly follows suit, eager to move on from the awkward emotions suddenly in the air.

The mood, luckily, quickly changes.  Odile is pleasantly shocked by how good the soup tastes this time around.  Though not spicy, all of the flavors of the veggies, rehydrated ingredients, and dried meat actually seem to ‘pop’ rather pleasantly with each bite.  She looks up as Isabeau with shock.

“This is… actually really good!”

Isabeau looks just as surprised as she is, and nods.  “This turned out way better than I expected!”

“Good job Isabeau!”  Mirabelle chimes in between mouthfuls.

Siffrin has somehow finished his entire bowl already.  He holds out his empty dish and smiles widely.  “If we have enough, could I have seconds?”

Siffrin’s capabilities with mind craft complicated things a lot.  Though this dinner felt… oddly nice besides the argument, I can’t just assume they aren’t here maliciously until I have more information.  I need to figure out some defenses against offensive mind craft, just in case.  And as much as I would love for all of my questions to be answered with their abilities in this regard, it appears to simply be a piece in a larger puzzle.

As the sun disappears below the horizon, and the dimming firelight is no longer a large enough light supplement to allow for journaling, Odile is forced to put away her writing for the time, and begin her nightly job of keeping watch.  The group has elected to repeat the previous night’s watch cycle, leaving her alone as the sky becomes cloaked in the cover of the night. 

Odile takes a slow, deep breath, and focuses on the sounds of the surrounding wilderness.  Crickets chirp, small animals run through the underbrush, leaves and branches rustle as the wind rolls through the land.  There’s nothing out of the ordinary.  No sobbing of a nearby sadness, no loud movements from larger animals, and no panic from living things being frozen by the encroaching curse.  There is, however, the sound of a single set of footprints moving in her direction.

Odile turns to see Siffrin, no longer dressed in their cloak and hat, stepping up to her.

“Mind if I join you for a little bit?”  He asks while gesturing to a spot near the campfire.  It’s a little surprising to Odile just how thin and small the fortune teller looks without those bulky extra layers of cloth.

“If you must.” She allows.

Siffrin smiles and takes a seat in front of the fire.  They take a moment to warm their hands before laying flat on their back and staring up.  Keeping an eye on them, Odile can’t help but notice the way the stars reflect and shimmer in Siffrin’s wide, wonder filled eyes.  She takes a moment to look up.  The curtain of darkness is littered with those tiny, darkless dots.  The near total darkness of the night punctuates their strange, foreign beauty.  A sea of distant light, frozen in a tantalizing display far above their heads.

Odile can almost understand Siffrin’s obsession with them, but as she looks back down, her thoughts of it don’t linger enough for her to care.  And so, she returns her focus to her assigned task.  After a few more minutes, though, the silence between the two of them begins to feel uncomfortable.

“Did you really come out just to look at the sky?”

“Hm?”  Siffrin blinks a few times as they work to focus their thoughts.  “Oh, uh… yes.  Why?”

“Oh, I thought you might be here to talk about something.  Afterall, it’s a bit strange for you to pick my watch to do this.”

“I thought you might feel more comfortable if it was with you.”  Siffrin explains. “I don’t think you’d like it if I was alone with Mirabelle, or even Isabeau.”

Odile hums in acknowledgement, conceding the point.  However, this is also an opportunity to ask about a few things, while they’re both out here.

“The memories you capture,” Odile begins.  “You freeze them in the same type of crystal that you find in sadnesses, right?  And all of your beads are made of those crystals.”

“...” Siffrin sighs, and moves to sit up.  “Yeah.”

“So that’s why you know more than most experts when it comes to sadnesses?  You use the same type of craft.”

“That’s the main reason, yes.”  Siffrin rubs one of his arms, signifying some degree of discomfort.

“You do realize why that makes it hard to trust you, right?  It’s quite the coincidence that you showed up while we were being attacked by a special sadness that you happen to know a lot about, and also know the type of craft that made it special.”

“I… can see why that’d make you suspicious.”  Siffin nods, and grips his arms tightly to their chest.  “But… I didn’t know that sadness was there.  I really, honestly, was just as surprised as you were when I saw it attacking you.”

“But you understand why I can’t just take your word on that, right?”

Siffrin pauses for a few moments before nodding solemnly.  “I do understand.  I just… I wish you’d give me a chance, at least?  I know you don’t trust me, like… at all.  But I really am here to help you.  I want to stop the king, too.  I want to free this country from this curse.  I am your ally.”

Odile lets out a long sigh, and looks away from Siffrin.  “I… just can’t accept those words.  As sincere as you may sound, I can’t bring myself to believe it.”

Siffrin remains silent, and stares pointedly at his own hands, while he twiddles his thumbs absentmindedly.

“... I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, Siffrin.  I think you realized that, already.  I won’t stop you from helping us, though.  So, if you’re truly sincere, you can prove it through actions.  Perhaps I’ll learn to believe you in the future.”

Siffrin nods slowly, before laying back down and returning his gaze to the night sky.  “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.”  Odile acknowledges, and returns to her watchful task.

Silence returns between the two of them.  Perhaps it’s a little less awkward in some ways, perhaps a bit more in others.  But, for the remainder of the next hour, not another word is said.

Siffrin eventually stands up and yawns.  “Alright, I’m going to bed.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Odile.”

Odile nods, and waves him off as the fortune teller returns to their tent.

I’ll give them a chance to prove themself.  One chance.  But if he ever crosses a line, I’ll make sure they don’t get an opportunity to cross it again.

As Siffrin climbs into his sleeping bag, he folds his arms across his chest and stares up at the darkness surrounding them.  Odile is observant and clever, and that’s going to be a problem.  Unless they can get her to focus elsewhere.  But how would they do that?  Mind craft isn’t the answer, because none of the group would ever trust Siffrin if he tried that and failed.  It’s going to take something else…

They put their hand to their ear, and make the connection with Aster once again.

“Aster, are you awake?”

“...”

“...”

“... I am now…”

“Oh, sorry about that.  It’s just…”

“It’s alright, Siffrin.  What’s up?  Is something wrong?”

“I think so.  One of the party members, Madame Odile, is a little too observant and suspicious.  I’m worried about what she’ll learn while I’m traveling with her.”

“You know there’s a simple solution to that.”

“I’m not going to alter her mind for that.  Besides!  She’s a strong crafter.  I don’t know if I’d break through her defenses before she retaliated.”

“Hm.  Well, what has she figured out so far?”

“I don’t know. But the group knows I know mind craft.  I had to capture a memory in front of them.”

“Siffrin!  What?  What were you thinking?!”

“I remembered something in front of them, and I had to capture it, so…”

“Siffrin…”

“What?! Was I supposed to just let the memory disappear to avoid letting them learn about that?”

“ Yes , Siffrin.  A single memory isn’t worth the risk!”

“Maybe not to you , but…”

“Siffrin!”

“I’m not going to stop remembering, just because you’re too cautious!”

Aster grumbles something under their breath.

“Fine... fine! We can still work with this.  Luckily for you, Vaugarde is essentially locked down by the curse right now.  None of this knowledge will escape the country.  So, we can deal with any leaks you cause once you break the curse.”

“So… wait, does that mean I can tell them about-”

“NO!  Stars, Siffrin, you’re far too eager to break the rules.”

“But what if I need to tell them something else, or…”

“If you absolutely need to tell them something to continue your quest, you can do it.  But you have to understand what that will mean once your quest is over!”

“... I know.  And if Odile keeps getting suspicious?”

“Tell her only what you have to in order to stay with the group.  Nothing more!”

“Okay… sorry, Aster, for uh… messing that up.”

“... it’s fine.  We’ll deal with it together.  Just… get to the king, that’s the most important thing.”

“Right… goodnight, Aster.”

“Goodnight.”