Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumors of a miracle man had spread across Tal’dorei.

“He travels with a witch in a caravan,” bards would say. Depending on the feel of the room he was painted in multiple colors: sinister, healer, a loner in exile.

One thing was understood though: he could create miracles. Living metal, one bard described it. So that’s how Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III became known as the Miracle Man.

Grog & Pike

It was the goliath first. Brought to Percival’s door by his gnome companion who had begged the mechanic to save her friend.

“What makes you think I can do anything?” Percival asked softly, though already his mind was firing through solutions that no one else could see. The goliath's back was torn down to the bone, his spine was definitely injured in some way. But Percival could make the goliath better, stronger.

“Because you’re the miracle man, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. The young gnome was filled with passion, ready to argue, beg, and plead for the life of her friend. “They say you have given people legs and arms. Better than the ones they were born with. They say you can bring back the dead.”

Percival pressed two gloved fingers to the goliath’s neck. “Well, we don’t have to worry about bringing him back just yet.”

“Does this mean you’ll help?” Determination and hope radiated from this young gnome woman. Percival would later think that if he had not already made up his mind, she probably would have convinced him any way. He nodded and, somehow, he and the gnome (with Keyleth’s help) transferred the goliath into his caravan.

The goliath barely fit in Percival’s traveling house, but he fit. Although, they had to forgo any sort of operating table and lay the behemoth out on the floor.

The mechanic thanked Pelor that the goliath was already unconscious as the night was bound be difficult. The smells of blood and bone and grease permeated the air as he worked with Keyleth with the gnome, Pike close if an extra hand was needed. In the back of Percival's thoughts he noted what a quick learner she was, and genuinely appreciated her presence towards the end of the surgery.

Over the next course of the day, the goliath—Grog, Percival learned through Pike the next morning over an improvised breakfast of tea and toast—came in and out of consciousness, grunting and groaning. Pike was always there when he woke up, ready with water and mushed up food, sweetly talking her friend through whatever pain and confusion he was feeling. Keyleth (and therefore Percival by association) had struck up a friendship with small but tenacious gnome and both of them agreed they would be sad to see her go.

Percival guessed it would take him a month to fully recover. So imagine his (and everyone’s) surprise when the goliath was fully standing and most of his mobility in two weeks.

“What do we owe you?” Pike asked after another grueling day of physical therapy. Grog was flexing his back, testing the shiny gears and cogs that helped his muscles and spine move. (Eventually, he would find himself stronger than he ever had been. Strongjaw was what they called him in Menagerie shows. It was his last name, but it fit nicely.)

Keyleth looked at Percival and nudged him, giving him an encouraging nod. He sighed and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, we’ve been talking about that,” he said slowly. Pike was listening intently. Grog continued to do pull-ups on a nearby tree, laughing at how easy it was. “Keyleth and I, we were wondering what your plans were after you left?”

Pike thought for a good minute before answering. “Probably what we were doing before, town to town, taking up extra jobs. He does good work with construction and I have healing capabilities.”

Percy raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Keyleth. “I have proposal then. Instead of charging you money and then us going our separate ways, why don’t you stay with us, at least for a bit. My caravan is heavy with all of its equipment and we go through cattle more than we’d care too. So a trade perhap—?”

“Grog can pull the caravan!” Pike exclaimed.

“Wha?” Grog yelled from his tree, but Pike just waved at him to tell him don’t worry about it. He didn’t and went straight back to his exercises.

“And Percy—Percival,” Keyleth quickly corrected herself (Percival was always trying to stop her from using that nickname), “Always seems to hurt himself and generally a healer would be useful when we’re treating patients.”

Pike just nodded enthusiastically, pausing only to shake hands with Percival and Keyleth. And so the deal was struck. What a strange band they must look like, Percival thought to himself as he retired to his bed in the early hours of the morning. Little did he know his little family was to get a lot stranger.

~

When it had just been him and Keyleth, they slept in bunkbeds in the caravan with his workshop, which had an area that could be used as a small makeshift kitchen (although they usually defaulted to a campfire if weather permitted). It was not luxurious by anyone save a beggar’s standards, but it was home. But with their new additions, Percival recognized the need for a change.

Had it just been Pike, it probably wouldn’t have been a problem but a full grown goliath was another scenario.

He drew sketch after sketch, but no add-on to his single home made sense. It was Keyleth who suggested a second caravan.

“Cattle can pull the empty one,” she pointed out. “And you have been complaining about limited room for your inventions. Plus, we could have a full kitchen with us.”

Percival huffed and conceded it was a good point. He just wasn’t used to pure mechanics not being able to solve a problem.

Scanlan

Next was Scanlan, and he can be credited with the idea of the Menagerie.

“You wouldn’t have to work on projects other than your own,” he pointed out with his musical voice. “Or at least, not take on so many jobs. I can be the face and the, eheh, voice, so to speak.” The gnome chortled a few notes that were undeniably pleasant. Percival almost regretted giving it to him. Almost.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The four friends had come across Scanlan trudging along the road. Pike was who made them stop, though Keyleth needed little convincing and Grog was happy to go along with his buddy Pike. It’s hard to imagine now, but the Great Scanlan Shorthalt was a mute beggar with not even shoes to protect his feet from the road.

Percival was particularly proud of Scanlan’s transformation. (Pride was a consistent companion with him. It’s what drove him forward, it’s what challenged him. Foolishly, he kept it close, even nurtured it. Never realizing it would be his undoing. His own pair of wax wings.)

He had replaced the gnome’s vocal cords with strings from the sweetest violin he could find and his throat with a panpipe. When the gnome got used to his new instrument, it only took a week till he was humming the most complicated bard songs and another when he was making up his own. They learned his name (which we already know) and he offered his humble services.

When asked what he could do, he looked over at Grog and then back to Keyleth and Percival, and suggested the Menagerie. Percival could see the use of such a show, an easy way to make money and leave him time to work on his own projects. His only stipulation being that he had no part in it, to which no one could object to.

And so it was born, though what they started with was nothing compared to the glory that it would become. Still, it was enough. People flocked to see Strongjaw lift whole benches of people over his head with ease and throw his gnome friend as high as he could and then catch with no harm done. Scanlan earned more than his fair share with his music. (He quickly picked up the lute to accompany his magical voice.) He brought tears of laughter with his bawdy songs and tears of grief from his most tragic tales.

Even Keyleth joined in, with showy bits of magic. She was far from the natural showman that Scanlan was, but that was not necessary when one can turn oneself into a great white tiger or druid craft beautiful flower crowns for the children in the audience.

Only Percival stayed in the shadows, avoiding the crowd. But even that added to the magic that was the Menagerie. Who was the mysterious figure behind Strongjaw and the Bard? Some say he was an evil sorcerer who needed souls to power his fantastical machines. Others called him a miracle man, giving sight to the blind and making the lame man walk. Percival didn’t really care. Only that his friends were happy and that he had his work.

The Menagerie always moved on after a few days, never staying in one place too long. It was always Percival who deemed when they should leave. One night, around the fire between a town and a city, Scanlan asked why move so much?

“Chasing ghosts,” was all Percival said, before he immediately retired for the night.

And it was never brought up again until…

The Twins

Even in the early days, the Menagerie could draw a good crowd. Grog had started a juggling act where he threw Pike and two Pike-sized barrels into the air, catching them, then throwing them up again. And Scanlan’s charm knew no limitations in the size of a crowd.

“Come one! Come all! See the strongest goliath alive! Watch the Ashari witch change shape from elf to beast! Watch the most handsome gnome charm the most beautiful!” Scanlan would wink at Pike, who would inevitably roll her eyes.

The crowds drew merchants from their storefronts, selling their goods out on the streets. Villages, towns, and cities rarely complained about the Menagerie. It was good for business. Of course, crowds drew more than honest people trying to make a living. Dishonest people have to make a living, too.

Sometimes, very rarely, Percival would put on a cloak with its hood up to hide his unusually white hair and watch a show. He told himself it was to check on Grog and Scanlan, make notes for any improvements for later. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t entertained.

He was making mental notes on Grog (some of the gears looked strained as when the goliath lifted a full bench over his head to thunderous applause) when he felt the smallest nudge against him and suddenly he felt a little bit lighter.

Percival whipped around, attempting to grab the thief by the arm, but they were too fast for him. Not fast enough, however, to avoid him seeing a figure dash down an alley way against the crowd.

Trusting his instincts, Percival dashed after the cloak. Coin was precious and while he could probably earn it back, he was planning on moving the Menagerie out after the day was done. The thief almost lost him by ducking down an elaborate labyrinth of alleyways, but through ingenuity and (though Percival hated to admit) a little bit of luck, he was able to catch up.

Slowing his approach so as not to startle the thief into another chase, Percival watched as the cloaked figure approached a small hovel. After a cursory look around, the figure unlocked the door and walked in. Percival sauntered up to the hovel, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and peaked in the window.

The figure had put down their hood and he saw an elf—no! Half-elf, he recognized—feminine features, though that didn’t necessarily mean female. He had met his fair share of faire elven and half-elven men. He watched as the half-elf grew more animated in their motions. They were angry and clearly arguing with someone.

A quick survey of the room revealed no obvious exits and with the thief distracted, Percival decided to brazenly walk through the door.

“—said fifty gold, you old hag—!” the half-elf was yelling when he entered the one room hovel. Both the half-elf, who was on the verge of crying, and an old woman swiveled their heads to look towards the new arrival.

Before Percival could say anything however, the crone took advantage of the half-elf’s distraction and landed a surprisingly strong punch across the face. “You stupid girl!” she screeched, “you led ‘im straight to us!”

The woman pulled back for another punch but this time the half-elf was ready and easily dodged. “And you went back on your word, you miserable goat!” the half-elf spat.

“Why you—!” the old woman raised as if to strike again, but Percival had seen enough and grabbed the frail, bony arm.

“I do not wish to see two ladies fight,” he said evenly. The half-elf snorted as the old woman continued to glare. He paid no mind. “But I am looking for something that belongs to my person. Perhaps either of you would know where I could find it.”

The woman yanked her hand back turning the full force of her glare towards Percival, who received it with his own cool natured stare.

“She’s tha one you’re lookin' fer,” she spat, gesturing towards the half-elf who looked like any wrong sign and she would bolt. The woman rubbed her hand pitifully and looked up at Percival with a poor excuse for a kindly, old face. “I’m just yer run o’the mill beggar woman. Ain’t done no one none harm.”

Percival looked between the half-elf and the old woman, assessing the situation quickly and then made up his mind. He moved out of the woman’s . “Very well, thank you for your service, madam.”

“What! You can’t—!” The half-elf rushed past Percival, but he grabbed her arm firmly and would not let go. She struggled as the woman hobbles out. Percival didn’t miss the nasty look she shot back at the half-elf, but he held firm.

“Let her go,” he whispered. “People like that are like cockroaches. Crush her and five more take her place. Best know her face and avoid next time.”

He anticipated the half-elf going slack, but what Percival didn’t anticipate were tears. “She was our last hope.”

It was a sound he knew well, the sound of a heart breaking. He loosened his grip on her arm, not allowing her to fully collapse, but not holding her against her will any longer.

“Who is it?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even.

The half-elf froze and before she could hide her own reaction, Percival followed her gaze to huddle of dirty blankets in the corner. Or what he had mistaken as a pile of dirty blankets. He released her and let her run over to another half-elf, who would have looked like a mirror image except this one was dangerously frail.

“Wasting disease?”

The half-elf nodded. “We were able to stop it. But stopping and restoring are two different skills. The woman promised us a potion of full restoration. She demanded everything we had but that wasn’t enough…” She turned and flashed a guilty look towards Percival. “I’m sorry for picking your pocket. I don’t suppose it does us much good any more.” And she tossed his purse back, which he caught adeptly in midair.

But Percival was staring at the shrunken elf. “I can help,” he said suddenly.

“What.” Mistrust and caution read in every feature, she clearly wasn’t going to be duped twice in one day, but he waved it off.

“I have a workshop,” he explained, his mind quickly thinking of what tools he would need. Grog could carry him back easily. Hell, Percival with his small frame could probably pick up the half-elf. He’d need long bits of piping, thin but strong. It would be hard. It would be hell, but he could save the half-elf. “I can heal him. It will be painful and dangerous. But if he walks away he will be stronger than he ever was.”

Maybe if she was not facing of losing her only family, maybe if they had had one more gold piece left, one more option, Vex’ahlia might not have taken the deal. But here she was, with her brother on death’s door and this strange man with white hair and ice blue eyes making fantastical promises.

“We don’t have any money,” she half hoped this would make him leave, take this too-good-to-be-true promise with him and never return.

“That is not necessary,” he said. Percival knelt down and started feeling for the male half-elf’s pulse. It was weak. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Vex’ahlia bit her lip, and in a moment of what she would later describe as pure desperation, held out her hand. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

Wasting disease was becoming more and more prevalent in Tal’dorie. The name explains it all. If left alone, it attacked its victims bones, weedling away at the infrastructure of the body. Before people knew exactly what it was, most would lie listlessly in their beds until their own bodies couldn’t support their innards and were crushed by gravity.

Once people understood what was happening, a cure easily came about. So long as the disease was caught early enough, there was minimal damage to the bones and the patient, while they might ever be back to full health, could lead a perfectly normal life. Leave it for too long before stopping the wasting and it could leave the patient crippled, malnourished, with their bones unable to carry their body without significant strain. There is no way to restore a person to full health.

At least, no conventional way.

~

Vex’ahlia had heard of the miracle man, but had written the name off as some human being aggrandized by bards desperate for a reputation.

The white-haired man introduced himself as Percival and then helped gather Vax’ildan in his weakened state. He ended up carrying her brother on his back until they found the goliath who picked Vax up like he weighed less than tissue paper.

Vex felt her jaw drop as the goliath turned aroud around. The display looked like a glorious mess of metallic wheels and cogs that moved intricately as he flexed his muscles. It was truly an awe-inspiring and in someways terrifying. A part of her was trying to reconcile the merging of living being and machine.

As they moved their way through the crowds, towards the outskirts, then past the outskirts to the border of the town, she met the rest of the strange band. She paid little notice to them as Grog (and therefore her brother) made his way towards a worn in caravan with bits of metal suck to its sides.

Its inside made Vex’ahlia think of a monster with teeth all the way down. Metal protruded from almost every surface save for the back wall, where two bunkbeds hung. Percival and Keyleth cleaned off what was probably supposed to be a dining table and then he instructed for the goliath to lay her brother down on the table.

“I suggest waiting outside,” the white-haired man said as he pulled on gloves. “This will not be pretty.”

“I will stay by my brother’s side,” said Vex’ahlia, determination burning brightly in her eyes.

“Very well.” He nodded to Keyleth, who handed him the first knife, and he set to work.

Vax’ildan

Only an hour after the process started, she ran out and vomited onto the grass outside the caravan. Willing the nausea to pass quickly, she tried to enter the room again but was quickly expelled by her own stomach.

Angry and scared, Vex’ahlia resigned herself to sitting on the folding stairs leading to the door, keeping an ear for any sound that might indicate her brother needed her.

Vax’ildan would not remember much of his time under Percival’s knife. He would not remember the methodical way Percival cut him open one section at a time, removing most of his degraded and wasted bones. He would not remember incredibly light metal rods of differing lengths and widths being put in their place. He would not remember Keyleth sewing him up with all the care in the world, as if he was made of the finest and most delicate silk instead of flesh and muscle.

Vax’ildan would remember waking up feverishly, trying to scream as incredible pain coursed through his body. He would later recall it as if demons were ripping him from the inside out. (Percival would not protest when he heard it.) He would remember a shock of white and a flash of red.

He would remember a sweet smile and the soothing sensation of his skin being washed of the blood and grime from the surgery.

When he woke up fully, his body was on fire. Vax felt like his skin had be turned inside-out multiple times. (He was not wrong.) But he also felt stronger than he had in over a year, possible than he had ever been in his life. He tried to move but the body wasn’t his yet.

“Oh, oh no. Don’t do that.” A soft, lilting voice cut through searing pain and all of sudden cool hands were placed with light pressure on the back of his neck. Vax let the hands manipulate his head and neck. There was still a sharp ache, but it was dulled by the repeated rolling of his head and soft fingers kneading into his muscles. “You’re not ready to move just yet.”

The voice began to whisper something. Vax tried to concentrate on words but in vain as he drifted off into a deep sleep.

~

When Vax’ildan was ready to move, it was his sister at his side. She looked a mess, like she hadn’t slept in days. “You look terrible,” he quipped, smiling, ignoring how even his face resisted moving.

“You dick,” she said softly, but also smiling, mostly out of relief. “You look like death.”

Vex helped him stand up and he stifled a scream as his new bones took on his weight for the first time. Vax collapsed fully onto his sister, who barely kept them both up.

“Ah, you started already. Here, let me help.” Keyleth quickly rushed to Vax’s available side and helped take his weight off of Vex.

Vax just stared with his mouth slightly open. “You are real.”

Keyleth gave him a quizzical look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought angels only visited in dreams.”

A light blush dusted Keyleth’s cheeks as Vax continued to look at her in honest adoration. It was a sweet moment until Vex gave a small kick to Vax’s shin causing him to double over in pain. And thus began the most grueling two months of Vax’s life.

The physical therapy was torture. Percival, who Vax immediately didn’t like, had fashioned a walking device so that he could be independent while slowly transition to his legs carrying his full weight. Vex was helpful up to a point, but he looked forward to his appointments with Keyleth. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was kind and gentle and very talented in her magics.

He and Keyleth often talked as she manipulated water around his joints as he bent and flexed them, gaining his strength back at a snail’s pace. At first they talked about nothing, but they soon talked about themselves.

Vax told her about how it was just him and Vex. Their mother had died in a dragon attack and their father was very much absent. How they looked after each other and would die for each other. He talked about how guilty he felt when he contracted the wasting disease, having to rely completely on his sister for everything.

“I’m the eldest, only by a few minutes, but that still counts for something,” he mused as Keyleth helped him move his right arm. The talking also helped distract from the sharp twinges of his muscles.

“You are lucky to have each other,” she noted, her gaze fixed on Vax’s elbow, making sure the bones were functioning and not rubbing against each other under the muscle. “The love you two have for each other… that’s a magic in itself.”

For her part, she told Vax how she was from the Ashari tribe, but she had left to go on her Aramente. It was a pilgrimage of sorts. She was supposed to go out into the world and learn about its people, to learn about wild magics and to eventually return and lead her people.

Vax began to look forward to these moments with Keyleth. They would usually be alone. (Vex had been there at the beginning. But with little to do, she soon chose to go hunting or hang out with Pike, Scanlan, and Grog.) And they were just fascinated with each other’s life.

After one of the last sessions, Vax asked Keyleth what was she going to do when her Aramente was over. And she just looked surprised, as if the thought never occurred to her. She froze, leaving Vax’s leg up in the air, as she thought about it.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, “that I would go back to my tribe, face my final Challenge, and take my place as ruler of the Ashari.”

Keyleth

Keyleth had stumbled upon Percival, much like all the others had. Only, instead of needing something from him, he needed something from her. He was trying desperately to find a rumored gate into the Fey. She knew of the fascination that humans in particular with the Fey, but this was a level of passion she had yet encountered.

The druid volunteered to be his guide into the Fey on one condition: that she be allowed to accompany him in his travels. And thus a unique friendship was born.

She had not anticipated staying by Percival’s side for so long. But as she followed him across Tal’dorie, Keyleth found that his natural curiosity and problem solving enlightened her to more layers of the world than she ever could imagine.

His experiments alone showed her a new side to her power she never realized. Constantly at Percival’s side, Keyleth learned new properties, new talents. Assisting with plants, lightning, water, druid craft, creating amazing things that she never would have believed existed.

When it came to helping beings of all shapes and sizes, whether with new limbs, or maintenance on old ones, she learned more of medicine and recovery. Before long, Keyleth was becoming a master at recuperation and had nursed many back to health after rigorous session with Percival.

As the Menagerie began to be collected, Keyleth was continually surprised and delighted as more friends came into her life. Never in her wildest imagination would she believe that she would break bread with a goliath. She had heard nothing but cruelty about these beings, roaming the wilds of Tal’dorie and may the gods bless that you survive a run-in with them. But she could spend hours laughing as Scanlan and Pike daring Grog to eat the most heinous things, which he did happily.

Pike would become someone who Keyleth greatly loved and respected as a friend and colleague. She would pepper the young gnome with question after question about her faith, Sarenrae, her past as a sailor. The two would spend nights around a dying fire, just talking about their lives and thoughts about their universe and what was beyond it.

Scanlan, despite his garish bravado he fronted, was actually quite sweet and (even though he would never admit) Keyleth knew he cared very deeply for their mismatched family. And, even though Pike rolled her eyes, Keyleth knew that at least some of Scanlan’s declarations of love for the other gnome were true. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would do him good to stop hitting on the females that attended the Menagerie’s shows.

When the twins came, she thought nothing of it. Percy (as she called him sometimes, much to his chagrin) often took in strays, helped them, then sent them on their way. (Victor, a frail old man, was a particularly difficult one to shake, but for the time he was here it certainly was entertaining.)

She was delighted to see other half-elves. Keyleth felt sorry for the girl, who couldn’t stomach the smells during the operation. And this one was particularly nasty. Once the boy was patched up, she went out to comfort the girl, offering her some water.

“Is Vax okay?” she asked immediately upon seeing Keyleth, taking the water and drinking it voraciously. “Please, please tell me he’s okay.”

Keyleth sat down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Your brother lives”—Vex’ahlia let out a huge breath, as if she had been holding it for a very long time—“His recovery will take some time. He may not be able to regain his full strength, but he is here.”

Vex took a few breaths then looked to Keyleth, who was surprised to see bright tears on her cheeks, and flung her arms around the druid. “Oh thank you, thank you.”

Vex, as it turned out, was quite helpful. She hunted when they were in between towns and cities; was quite capable (much better than any of them, at least) at building a fire; and had exceptional knowledge at navigation in heavily wooded areas. Quickly, both Keyleth and Percival came to rely on her for many things.

Vax, however, became Keyleth’s preferred companion. She felt warm towards his earnestness and sincerity in his speech and questions. She could tell when she talked about herself that he listened with rapt awe. And his love for his sibling and her wellbeing made her heart lighter. (As well as a little envious, being an only child herself.)

When he began to get stronger and needed less and less physical therapy, he still found excuses to be around her, usually when she went outside the camp to replenish her herbs and supplies. Their walks were peaceful compared to spending time at camp and Keyleth found herself finding excuses to prolong them.

“Is this it?” Vax called a few feet away, holding up a bunch of green. Keyleth smiled as she walked over and inspected his makeshift bouquet.

“No,” she said slowly, “But remind me to make a poultice for itching later.”

She giggled as Vax threw the weeds away as fast as possible.

Chapter Text

It was only a matter of time for Vax and Vex to join the Menagerie. Vex joined right away. Scanlan attempted to put her into a very revealing outfit which she immediately rejected. (Even Percival laughed at Scanlan’s face when she suggested to shove the costume somewhere unpleasant.) Even though she had none of the Miracle Man’s enhancements, she was an amazing shot with a bow and arrow.

Vex even talked Scanlan to end her portion of the show by placing an apple (or an expendable piece of pottery) on his head and have her pin it to a makeshift wall behind him. Percival started showing up for more shows after this particular addition.

Vax’s recovery took longer than expected. However, once he started gaining full movement of his new skeleton, he found his already superb acrobatic skills were nigh unstoppable. (Which was good because he had picked up the very dangerous habit of pranking Grog and thus incurring the goliath’s wrath on multiple occasions, much to the amusement of everyone else.)

The lighter, flexible bones made it impossibly easy for him to jump farther distances and spring into fancy acrobatic feats which left audiences gasping as he would leap from a building (or a hastily put together scaffold) and dive towards the ground before pulling into a neat tuck-and-roll. As the show evolved, Percival even designed a collapsable rig for him to swing around on with pockets for him to disappear and the reappear somewhere else entirely.

It was a labor of love. The show was everything to its players and most probably the reason (at least in the beginning) they stayed. (Not to mention how convenient it was to stay by Percival for minor maintenance.) As for Percival himself, he was surprised he did not begrudge the company.

It was Keyleth who pointed out the improvement in his disposition. How much quicker he was to laugh or to drop a sour mood (which had been frequent in the beginning). He even lessened (though did not stop entirely) his experiments with black powder, which everyone, even Keyleth, viewed with misgivings. More than once they had to help put a fire out, and it never really got out of hand.
Except for the one time he set the caravan on fire, but who really counts that one anyway?

Trinket

There is one more player before our set is complete. But he did not enter through any grandiose means. One day, Vex went off hunting and came back with a bear. Not a dead bear, but a great, hulking live one.

Scanlan fainted at the site of him (something Grog would never let him live down), but Keyleth and Pike were immediately as taken as Vex was. Percival was indifferent. Besides, it made people happy. And he found that, in itself made him happy.

Menagerie

So now that we have all of our players, the Menagerie becomes one of the most talked about shows of all Tal’dorie. People begin to notice the now three caravans days out from cities and often have a large space prepared for a performance (or more, depending on how long the troupe decides to stay).

Scanlan would start, playing his lute lightly, making the audience quiet themselves in order to listen. And the gnome would sing about his lady fair waiting for him across the sea in Ank’Harel. The song had a strange sobering beginning, but the tune would pick up quickly as he bragged about his sexual exploits in order to “heal his wounded heart”. Each stanza revealed a more and more ridiculous encounter ending with him naked in a threesome with a dog dressed like a whore and the mayor of some small town. The audience would be in tears, people screaming in shock and laughter.

The bard would take his bows before announcing, “And now, ladies, gentleman, and everything in between, welcome to The Menagerie! Be inspired by our Strongman; be mystified by our Acrobat; be awed by our Archer and her bear; be in rapture by our Magician. Let us take you on a journey, far away from the mundane. Welcome! To the Menagerie!”

His musical voice set the audience in a trance. Vex found it almost eerie for a crowd so large to become so quiet, but it didn’t last long as everyone gasped when Grog entered the circle, with Pike and Vax on either shoulder. Aahs and oohs echoed as he turned around and flexed, baring the metallic gears in his back. Then the goliath would take Vax and Pike and start juggling. The audience would cheer and laugh, then gasp as Scanlan scouted the crowd.

When the musical gnome gave the signal, Grog would catch Pike and then pitch Vax so high up in the air, that he would escape the circle of light the fire gave off and disappear into the night. People looked around, confused, until Vax reappeared from the crowd in a cloak, completely hidden until he deemed it time for the great reveal.
The crowd would go wild as the half-elf flourished his cape in a bow. “Show off,” Vex would hiss, but secretly proud of her brother. She could not remember the last time she saw him this happy.

Scanlan would then play a jaunty tune and start dancing. People would start clapping in time. His dance would take him around the circle, sometimes pulling in giggling but willing participants (mostly young maids but sometimes older women as well). Eventually Pike would work her way into the rotation, pulling Scanlan away. (Anyone watching close enough would probably notice the bard’s slight reluctance to do so, if only because he knew what would come next.)

Pike would pull him into the middle of the show’s space and place an apple on his head while giving him a quick peck on the cheek. (It was the price Scanlan demanded for going through the motions every performance.)

And then he would grow quiet, stand stock-still in the middle of the cleared area. The audience would follow suite, attention undivided, looking from the apple to bard’s increasingly nervous face. And when the silence threatened to overwhelm and break, a dull whistling sound would pierce the air and a dull thunk. Most people didn’t even comprehend what happened until they noticed the apple was gone from Scanlan’s head and instead stuck to the ground with an arrow pierced through its middle.

Vex would then flourish a cloak (borrowed from her brother) drawing attention to her, brandishing her bow by cocking another arrow. The quickest ones would start to clap, but she was quick to silence them by drawing her bow and in almost inhuman (inhalf-elf?) speed let loose a barrage of arrows hitting previously placed targets (other bits of fruit, junk pottery, anything that the group could scavenge).

She would pause and let the stunned audience process what happened and more people clap. This time Vex would indulge a bow.

Every now and then, when Percival attended, and Vex always noticed when he attended, she would look up and catch his eye and wink. The first few times that was all that happened, but as the shows became more comfortable for the performers, and everyone grew more bold, so did Vex. And one night she asked for a volunteer. (Scanlan often encouraged people to experiment in improvisation.)

Most of the audience fell silent. Some faces in the crowd visibly paled. A few brave souls raised their hands, even fewer seemed enthusiastic. Vex made a show of leaping down in an impressive tuck role and then walking slowly and deliberately around the circle, scanning faces. (Some hands would inevitably go down as she did this. But she knew what—or rather, who—she was looking for.)

She would stop around three quarters of the circle, look back into the crowd and reach out her hand towards Percival somewhere in the back. He was so easy to find. The crowd would part, creating an easy path to the stage.

The first time, Percival frowned, but Vex winked again with a cheeky smile. And, surprisingly himself, he walked forward and took her hand. The crowd watched, holding their breath, but laughed when Vex did a bow, as if she were the courting man. And that was enough to break the tension. (Eventually, Percival would add a small curtsy with his cloak, making the audience laugh harder and be more comfortable. It was all a show, after all.)

She led him to the backdrop (behind which was everyone who was not on stage) and positioned him his back to the makeshift wall and to hold out both his hands palm up and placed an apple. Vex kissed Percival’s cheek and then walked twenty paces (almost the whole length of the arena), knocked two arrows in her bow and turned it so that it so the bow was parallel to the ground with the arrows in a V shape.

Facing Percival, whose eyes widened as his body visibly stiffened, Vex pulled back her bowstring and the audience audibly gasped as she let them loose. And for one horrifying second, everyone watching immediately pictured the white-haired man pinned to the backdrop. But in the second second, everyone drew another gasp as the apples were clearly skewered with arrows and Percival untouched. And then let out a deafening cheer, mostly out of relief for not witnessing a murder.

Most surprisingly to Vex, who assumed it would be a one time deal as Percival had often expressed that he would in no way take part in the show, was when Percival approached her saying he had ideas to improve next time.

Black Powder

Percival didn’t need to be told that his companions feared the black powder. They should. It was dangerous and after enough time, all of them had seen what small accidents could do. Usually it was just a singe here, an eyebrow loss there, a small fire that went out with a quick douse.

But there was so much potential—and not just destructive potential. It was his idea to incorporate it into the show, specifically with his and Vex’s routine. (Only Vex did not immediately shrink away from black powder and that always impressed him. And vexed Vax.)

Black powder had the particular talent of creating large sound and impact. Mixed with different elements, there could be smoke, even fire. But Percival had no intentionally dangerous intentions. His thought was to merely create large targets for Vex to aim for and when hit would illicit a loud sound and cloud of colorful smoke. Much more interesting than broken junk shattering.

Vex was completely supported this idea, much to the ire of her brother.

Of course, had Percival known what would happen, he would have sided with Vax on the whole matter.

Chapter Text

Pepperbox

For the first year with everyone together, it was unusual for the Menagerie to stay in one place for more than a handle of days. The longest stays were usually due to Keyleth offering her healing services. Many came for the Miracle Man, but most were paltry injuries that didn’t warrant anything more than a poultice, a good meal, and some rest. Though neither of them could do much about the affects of the wasting disease.

While most the Menagerie would claim it was one of the best years of their lives, Percival was less likely to spend time by the fire, listening to Scanlan’s new songs for the show or reveling in embarrassing stories from the twins. More often than not, after quickly eating his dinner, he would lock himself in his caravan (one of three now, to accommodate everyone). The only sign of life could be heard from the erratic tink of metal or the odd pop sound.

One night, early into their second year together, and after feeling particularly brave (bolstered by a bit of wine given by the last town they visited), Vex strode up to the caravan’s door and loudly banged her hand on it. “Percy!” she half yelled, giggling. “What’re you building! Some… some girlfriend!”

The shuffling and tinking paused for a second, then Vex made out footsteps getting louder and louder before the door swung open.

“Excuse me?”

“Percy!” Vex through her hands up in the air and embraced the Miracle Man. For all his weird habits, she had grown fond of the him. “Stop being such an old codger and join usssss!”

“You’re drunk,” Percival said matter of factly, before slowly untangling her arms from around his neck.

“We all are!” Vex gestured behind her to the fire. And what a picture it was. Percival seemed to actually be fighting a smile at Scanlan trying to teach Grog how to do a handstand. Vax, Keyleth, and Pike were already in tears.

Vex frowned as Percy’s defenses refused to go down. “What are you doing in there? Scanlan says you have a mechanical girl, but none of us believe him. Well, maybe Grog.”

Percival let himself smile and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to see? What I’m working on that is?”

Vex found herself quickly sobering as her curiosity was piqued. “You, mean it’s not a secret?”

“Oh, it most certainly is!” Percival exchanged a look with her that made her face feel warm. “But you are my favorite. And I trust you.”

“Oh.” And that was all Vex could say, hoping that her blush could be mistaken for the one that usually accompanies alcohol.

“Come on,” he said quietly, beckoning her into his caravan that smelled strongly of metal and fire. Vex glanced back and everyone was now focused on her twin doing a rude impression of probably her. They had all but forgotten her and Percival. So she followed him in.

Every surface was coated with black and metal poked out like jagged broken teeth.

“This is what I have been working on. For almost three years now.”

At first, Vex did not know what to make of the machine Percival presented to her. He held it in both hands, as if cradling a baby bird, as if it was so fragile that it might break at any moment. To the best of her ability, Vex decided it looked like one pipe inside a small cylinder with a handle underneath. Nothing about it looked impressive.

“What is it?”

“Pepperbox.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s what I’m calling it, at least,” Percival seemed a bit sheepish at the name. Vex decided not to press on, even if she found his blush endearing.

“What does it do?”

At first, Percival said nothing, causing Vex to look up at him. He was looking at his new creation pensively. “It,” he started but stopped again. “It fixes things.”

“Does it fix anything?”

“No. Only certain things. Specific things.” Percival rotated the contraption in his hands slowly, with a reverence that sent chills down Vex’s spine. She did not like how he looked at Pepperbox.

“What is this part?”

She pointed—but did not touch!—at this large cylindrical piece that looked like it could hold something. Percival seemed hesitant, but he looked her straight in the eye. Vex heard a click and she looked down and saw that it did indeed open. Six, perfect, black holes were carved into it. Their edges so smooth, Vex knew her finger would fit perfectly in without a scratch.

“What are those supposed hold?”

“Promises.”

His voice sent chills down her spine. He sounded different. But she wasn’t sure how.

“May I hold it?”

The speed in which Percival snatched Pepperbox to his chest caused Vex’ahlia to jump. “No!”

Her fear must have been visible on her face, because Percival’s stern look immediately softened. “I apologize. I did not mean to snap at you. This. This is just too dangerous. For anyone to use.”

“Then certainly that must include yourself.”

“Yes. But I must use it.”

Vex frowned. “Why?”

Percival paused to place Pepperbox back in small box and locked it. “I—I promise I will tell you. One day.”

“But not today.”

Percival shook his head. “No.” He still wouldn’t look at her. He only looked at the box.

Vex walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He seemed surprised at the touch. “That’s okay, Percy. I am sorry that I pressed.”

Then, he surprised her by reaching up with his hand and covered hers with his. “No, it is wrong to keep secrets from you. I just need time.”

Vex nodded. “I understand.”

She wanted to say more, but the words would not come to her. So instead, she gave his shoulder a squeeze that she hope translated as comfort, and let go.

Vex walked out of Percival’s caravan, leaving him inside, and rejoining the others who had not realized she had even left. Deciding not to draw any attention to where she had just been, she joined in laughing at a joke Scanlan told, but she had not idea what it was about. Glancing back at Percival’s door, she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or shadows, but it looked like smoke was leaking out, only to dissolve in the night air.

~

It had been an accident, both Percival and Vex’ahlia insisted afterwards. But that did little to quell Vax’ildan’s rage.

Vex had been fletching arrows in the lower branches of a tree, when she saw Percival walk by underneath. He moved carefully through the underbrush, and for a moment she thought about respecting his wish not to be seen, but then she spotted Pepperbox in his hand.

She dropped down from the tree with all the grace her elfin ancestors granted her and moved just as quietly but much quicker and soon was right behind the tinker.

“Going somewhere?”

Vex stifled a giggle as Percival bristled.

“Vex!” Percival hissed, whipping around and at once Vex’s giggles were quelled at his glare.

“I apologize for startling you,” she said, but then put on her best smile. “I couldn’t resist.”

Percival’s glare immediately softened and seemed to come back to himself. “No, I am sorry for turning on you. I seem to be more on edge than I thought.”

“Does it have to do with Pepperbox?” Vex glanced down at the gleaming metal object in Percival’s hand.

He hesitated, turning his hand so that Pepperbox caught the light in different ways. Vex couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. After a few silent seconds, Percival seemed to make up his mind.

“I am going to go test it.” Another pause. “Do you want to come watch—“

“YES!” Vex did not wait for Percival to finish his question. “I mean, of course. If you would like the company.”

Percival’s face did some interesting acrobatics. Vex could almost see a conflicting thought circling his head and for a moment thought he was going to change his mind. But he settled on a smile that made her heart do a little flip.

“Your company is always welcome.”

Vex answered with a smile of her own and followed Percival to a small clearing. He set a bag down on the edge of the clearing and brought out some canvas and nailed it to the trunk of a tree. He had drawn a target in charcoal.

“Do you expect it to be accurate?” Vex asked.

“To be honest, I have no idea what to expect,” Percival admitted, but he was smiling. Vex was delighted to see the man genuinely excited. She much preferred it to his brooding.

She watched as he opened up the contraption—Pepperbox, she remembered him naming it—and place a small, tubular piece of metal that was rounded to a point into one of the holes and close it. He glanced back at Vex, who flushed at the brilliant smile. She found herself imagining a much more different Percival in another life, one without a shadow hanging over him.

“Ready?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Vex stood to his right and a little bit behind. Percival extended his arm, supporting Pepperbox from beneath with his other hand. Both of his eyes were open and focused. Vex watched as his breaths slowed and evened.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale—

BANG!

Her world went black.

~

Vax’ildan visibly paled as he saw Percival emerge into their campsite in the middle of the day with Vex’ahlia limp in his arms. Black blood mixed with her dark hair. He could not see her face.

“What happened.” It wasn’t a question. It was pure fury.

“Get out of my way.” Percival’s voice was a curious mix of anger, terror, and determination.

“What happened,” Vax demanded again, either unwilling or unable to move forward until he had an answer.

“If you want her to live, you will move. NOW!” Percival roared.

Vax, not one to easily back down, was about to repeat himself for a third time, but was moved aside by Keyleth. Percival rushed past him and the Air Ashari towards his caravan. Keyleth tried to convey comfort and encouragement with a look, but Vax would not look at her.

“Vex trusted Percival to save your life, now trust him to save hers.”

But Vax did not answer. Keyleth paused for one more moment, searching for any sign that he would make this any harder that it had to be. Her words must have reached some part of him as he stilled himself.

“If she dies,” Vax finally said. “I will kill him.”

Keyleth wanted to say more, but knew words were not enough. So she turned and followed Percival to make herself available should he require her skills, and left Vax where he stood.

~

The piece of metal had lodged itself into Vex’s right eye. Thankfully it stopped short of being instantly fatal, but her chances of survival were growing smaller and smaller as time passed. Percival did not have time to think, did not have time to contemplate, did not have time to plan.

He had to trust himself, something he had not done in quite some time. But Vex would die if he did not.

Removing the pieces of metal, with Keyleth assisting, helping to keep Vex breathing, he began to work. He built without thinking, sculpting, adapting as he faced challenge after challenge, keenly aware that a flinch could lose someone who he cared deeply about—even though he refused to admit it even to himself.

It was hours of work. Percival ignored his body screaming at him to rest, to eat, to drink. His back burned from being bent. His eyes strained against the fading the light and consistent concentration on impossibly small components. All the while, Vex’ahlia’s body lay still on his table, unmoving save for shallow breaths that sometimes stopped. Percival ignored everything, continually working.

He had no idea what time it was when he had to admit he had done all he could. It was dark out, the interior of his caravan lit by lamps Keyleth had provided at some point—he couldn’t remember when.

Sweat and grit and grease covered him, but he did not give a damn. He could only look down at Vex, who lay almost peacefully, still unconscious, unmoving, but still alive. But Percival could not—would not—relax his body. Not yet.

He breathed heavily, his body finally forcing him to come to terms that he had pushed his own limits past a point. Percival sat down on a small stool that was nearby, still looking at Vex. Keyleth stood next to him, also watching Vex.

After a minute that might as well have been an eternity, Vex flexed her fingers.

Percival’s heart jumped into his throat.

Vex was alive.

“Go get her brother,” he rasped, voice cracking from disuse.

Keyleth only nodded and left him alone with Vex.

Percival stood one more time, then leaned down, ignoring the muscles in his back that stretched painfully, and touched his forehead to Vex’s.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Not like this. Not because of my own hubris.”

Vex did not say anything. She did not open her eyes. She just lay there.

“Vex’ahlia,” he barely breathed. “Please.”

For a moment, her breathing stopped and his stomach dropped. Percival shut his eyes, willing the Universe to be kind, just this once. He know it owed him no favors, and his soul was already forfeit but just this once—

Vex’ahlia inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttered open, and Percival released everything, letting a tear slide down his face.

“Percy?” Vex mumbled.

He couldn’t wipe the relief from his face.

Then he heard heavy and hurried footsteps. Percival stood up and took a step back, so Vax’ildan could burst in and rush to his sister’s side uninhibited.

“Vex!”

“Vax?” Vex’ahlia was still waking up, acting more like she was waking up from a nap, not like she had been on death’s door. “Vax, are you okay?”

“Am I okay—you dummy, I should be asking you that.”

Percival adverted his gaze as Vax hugged his sister fully yet gently. He glanced at Keyleth who looked exhausted, knowing she probably mirrored his own countenance.

He nodded at her, too tired to verbalize his thanks, and then left the tent, giving the siblings and the rest of everyone some room to dote upon Vex’ahlia, who would hate every minute of it.

He was standing outside of the caravan, barely listening to the joyful noises inside (Grog, Pike, and Scanlan had joined Vax), when the door opened and Vax stepped out.

Percival could feel Vax’s glare, but still forced himself to look the half-elf in the eye. He saw every bit of blame that he deserved.

“She’s alive and tired. But Keyleth says she’ll survive,” Vax said, as if Percival himself had not just been in the same room.

Percival nodded. He saw Vax pull his arm back. Percival could have easily avoided the punch, but he didn’t. He let it happen.

Chapter Text

Vex’ahlia

Everyone glowed gold. That’s what struck Vex the most when she opened her eyes after her world went black. Her first though was: Am I dead? Her second thought was surprise at how fine she was at that first idea. Then her body reminded her that she was very much alive as it pulsed pain through her head like a jagged knife.

“Vax? What happened? Where’s Percy?” Vex felt like she was talking with cotton balls in her mouth. Everything was slow.

“You need rest,” chided Keyleth, though Vex felt it was directed more to Vax who would not stop looking at her like that. “It’s late, or early, and now there’s time for us to take it easy.”

Vax was reluctant to leave, but got up and walked swiftly out of the caravan. Vex closed her eyes and, eventually, fell back into blackness. Though this time it was not nearly so cold.

~

“Vax, why does Percival have a black eye?”

“We’re leaving.”

Vex frowned. It was so unlike her twin to be so sharp with her, more so to ignore a direct question with an unrelated statement. (Usually he just walked away.) She also tried to ignore that he was glowing vibrantly. No one else seemed to see the glow that she did, and when she tried to explain what she saw all she got was concern for her health and a suggestion that she needed more rest.

But Vex’ahlia felt fine. She felt better than fine. It was a shock to see herself with a metallic eye when they finally allowed her a mirror—they could not resist her request for too long—but it only took her a day to notice her eye sight was impeccable. The world became sharper, more colorful and striking. Even the most mundane things looked more beautiful, although she had worried Vax when she had been staring at a simple puddle for longer than necessary.

“Vex, please, let’s just leave. We have no reason to stay here any longer.”

“What about Keyleth?”

That did give Vax’ildan some pause. Vex could have sworn the gold light surrounding her twin dimmed just a little as she saw the thought of leaving the red-headed half-elf cross his mind.

“I—She’ll understand. But Vex, I’m better, I really am. We can go now. Back to the wonder twins. Just you and me.”

Vex couldn’t deny that part of her wanted that. To go off with Vax and Trinket and loose themselves in the woods. But she would not go without a fight.

“Does this have anything to do with Percival having a black eye?”

Vax wasn’t meeting her eye until that question. Then he squared off with her. “Vex, you almost died. I—I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

“But I didn’t die. I’m standing here talking to you because of Percival,” Vex spoke lightly, moving forward and touching her brother’s shoulder. “I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I know what it’s like. When I thought you were going to die, when I thought I could do absolutely nothing—“

The words got stuck in her throat. Sometimes in her worst nightmares she still saw Vax wasting away as a husk of his former self and Vex unable to help him despite baring her soul to every god and goddess. Usually the day after such a dream, Vex finds herself even more thankful for the family they had found.

“Just, let’s not do anything rash. Let’s wait until the next town at least. It doesn’t make sense to leave when we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Vax huffed concession, but was surly for the next few days that even Keyleth couldn’t break despite her best efforts. He did, however, seem to run interference whenever Vex tried to seek out Percival. Percival seemed even more keen on avoiding Vex, which annoyed her even more.

Finally, after a handful of days and Vax finally letting down his guard enough to let Vex slip away with Trinket, she confronted the tinker. He was sitting on a stump, tinker with something or other.

“Percy, you have been avoiding me.”

Percival looked at her warily. He was guarded in a way that Vex had never seen. And he glowed. Vibrantly.

“Yes,” he said, after a long stretch of silence. “I have.”

“Why?”

He twisted—almost impossibly further away from her. “You almost died.”

“But I didn’t. Because of you, Percival.” Vex wanted to reach out but knew he would just flinch away. The glow flared for a bit before settling back to normal. “I’m alive because you saved my life.”

Percival stood up suddenly that Vex took a step back. The glow diminished till it was barely visible. “You would not have needed saving were it not for my own damn—.” He clenched his mouth shut.

“What? We were just trying out a new invention, you could not have known that it was going to be so violent.”

He turned on her with such ferocity that it frightened her. The glow was completely gone, replaced by a black smoke that seemed to seep out of his eyes, nose, and mouth.

“No. It was supposed to be violent. That is the whole damn point of Pepperbox.” Venom dripped from Percival’s tone. Vex took another tentative step backwards. “It’s supposed to rip and tear a part things with minimal effort. A twitch of my hand and then BOOM!”—Vex flinched but forced herself to stand her ground—“it’s decimated. It did exactly what it was supposed to do.”

Percival was breathing heavily, breathing smoke like dragon. Vex took a deep breath, steeled herself, than took a step forward.

“No, it didn’t.” Her voice was even and soft. “I know—I know that you would never hurt me, Percy. You are a good man—“

He laughed, but it sounded more like a wheeze. “Ha, a good man would never endeavor to create such a weapon. I am a monster for even having thought of it.”

Vex shook her head, gathering more courage as she closed the space between them. “It is not the thoughts of a man that defines him, it is the action towards those around him.”

She thought about touching him, reaching out to grab his hand, closing the space till there were no more between them. But Percy just smiled sadly, the smoke dissipating but the glow never came back.

“You think too well of me,” he said before turning and leaving her alone.

Emon

The players in the Menagerie were more aware than some on the wasting disease and its spread across the continent of Tal’dorei. It became impossible to ignore those who could not afford treatment being left out to die in the gutter of the most populated cities. Or come across a husk of a farmer too isolated for help. Vex was particularly troubled, having no trouble picturing her brother as one of the nameless corpses they pass.

It was in the cities where it was most noticeable. And there were rumors starting: witchcraft, curse, the end of days. But one started separating itself from the others, one that wouldn’t die and the details stayed (for the most part) consistent.

Whispers passed by Vex’ahlia’s ears but she finally took notice when the troupe approached Emon, the capital city of the kingdom of Tal’Dorei.

“They’re saying that it wasn’t until a large shipment of goods came in from Whitestone that the wasting disease really had presence in Emon,” she shared with the others one evening over a pint. They had spent the day casing the city with small flyers for the Menagerie’s show tomorrow evening.

Ever since Vex’s accident, everyone had been on edge. Vex spoke as little to her twin as possible to avoid talking about leaving. Percival would not be alone with Vex at all. Scanlan was the same cheery self but there was an underlying moroseness to him. Keyleth and Pike were at a loss and consistently tried to keep things as normal as possible. Only Grog seemed more or less unaware of what was going on.

“So? What does that ‘ave to do wit us?”

Vex just shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

That was a lie. Ever since her accident, and although Percy refused to be alone with her since, Vex noticed that he was much more withdrawn. And whatever little gold glow he did show was almost completely diminished with black smoke becoming more and more prevalent. She was worried about him.

She also noticed he reacted—or rather didn’t react—whenever the city Whitestone was mentioned. It was like he was specifically trying not to react, and that in itself was a tell. But Vex was annoyed at being ignored and now, sitting in a tavern, Percy was bound by social obligation to at least acknowledge her existence.

“What do you think, Percival?”

This also prompted Vax to give the white-haired man the stink eye, but he did not seem to be acknowledging either twin. If it was possible, he had shrunken even more into himself. It was only when Keyleth touched his shoulder that he jumped.

“I—um,” he fumbled with his drink before taking a deep breath. “I know about. Whitestone.”

Everyone exchanged looks but didn’t say anything. Except Grog.

“Wut?”

“That is, I am from Whitestone. And I know who is the cause of the Wasting Disease.”

Chapter Text

Emon (cont.)

Percival’s story was one of great trauma and heartache. Even Vex, who had lost her mother to a dragon and was raised in a society that deemed her dirty, felt her heart ache for her friend.

The troupe was crowded in a room at the inn. Percival refused to speak unless they were alone and they had left the two caravan carts in the care of a barn on the outskirts of the city while they drummed up interest for a show. (Trinket had also stayed behind, more content in the woods than a city.) Grog had a gnome on each shoulder. Even in the close quarters, Vex noticed how close Vax and Keyleth sat next to each other. Although what she did not notice that at some point during the tale is that the two had started holding hands.

“I was the third of seven. The son of a Lord and a Lady. I was not expected to become the head of the family, so I had time. Time to think, time to read, time to invent. The library became my sanctum. I was voracious. I wanted to learn everything.

“My specialties, however, were mechanics and human anatomy.” Percival was looking down, but he spoke clearly and loudly enough for everyone to hear him. “There was so much similarity between simple machines and humans. It was uncanny. But where humans had their limits, machines could be enhanced.”

“I began experimenting in earnest around the time I was twelve. Nothing gory, mostly standalone machines. They didn’t move. It wasn’t until fourteen, when I asked to be apprenticed to a local surgeon, that I began to see true potential.

“It shocks most, how simple our bodies are. We move so simply, most machines can replicate if not improve our movements. I began with simple splints, but soon saw potential. And with the help of natural or clerical magic, it seemed almost limitless.

“I was happy. For the first time in my life, I felt fulfilled. I saw a purpose, a path.”

Vex watched Percival intently. He started to glow. But then the story took a dark turn with the entrance of mysterious visitors, the slaughter of his family, his imprisonment, and his escape which resulted in the death of his last living family member.

As the story evolved, the glow gave way to a dark shadow that soon eclipsed the corner Percival sat in. Vex started losing details in his features. When she looked around at their companions, none of them looked alarm so she stayed quiet.

“Oh Percy,” she whispered, reaching out a hand for comfort and to observe the shadow. It retreated at her touch, revealing Percival’s shoulder. She was glad to alleviate some of the darkness. That meant it could be chased away.

Everyone was quiet, engrossed and when the story ended, pensive.

“So when are we gonna beat them Dryer-woods?” Grog spoke next, his deep rumble breaking up everyone’s thoughts.

“What?” Percy looked up for the first time since he started his story. Almost immediately the cloud lost its opaqueness in places and started to recede as his friends kept talking.

“Yeah, what’s the plan?” Scanlan piped up. “I know I’m the ipso-facto leader of this group, but this is your home, Percival. And I will defer to your expertise.”

“You’re not the—never mind,” Pike abandoned the argument before it even began. Instead she also addressed Percival. “We’re behind you one hundred percent. Just tell us what to do.”

Vex stayed silent by Percy’s side. Both the gnomes and Grog were outlined in a similar shiny golden light that she knew no one else could see. She turned and watched Percy’s facial expression go from confused to puzzled to realization when he finally figured out what they were saying. The cloud was growing thinner, faster. And was Vex imagining a glow underneath?

“No, that’s not—absolutely not. I will not ask you all to endanger your lives for me.”

“You did not ask, Percival. We are volunteering,” Keyleth said, breaking away from Vax to kneel in front of her friend, also glowing gold, growing brighter as she spoke. “And we would be a poor family if we did not at least offer assistance in getting your home back.”

Vex was about to say something, but Vax spoke before his sister, surprising her when he spoke earnestly. “You have done everything to help us, Percival. I would not be standing here with my only family if it were not for you. If you wish it, you have my blades at your disposal.”

Vex locked eyes with her twin, tears threatening to surface at his resolution. He was glowing, too. “And my arrows,” she said softly.

Percival looked around slowly at everyone, looking for any sign of hesitation or fault in their promise. He bowed his head but Vex could see a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, all of you.” And for a moment the room was awash in a warm golden glow.

~

They stayed in Emon for one show but immediately packed up and moved to a secluded part of Tal’dorei, nestled at the base of one of the mountains so that they didn’t have to worry about being surrounded at all sides. The Miracle Man and his friends began to hatch a cunning plan.

The group traveled in a serpentine pattern, not wanting to make a direct line towards Whitestone after Percival disclosed it was likely he could be watched. (“I have never felt targeted, but I would be lying especially after we started our shows that the thought we could be drawing attention to ourselves.”)

Whitestone glowed in the setting sun when the Menagerie arrived and set up just outside the capital's borders. Vex wondered what Percy saw when he looked at his old home. There was sadness, but also a recognition and a searching look. He had not glowed since their meeting in the inn in Emon, but he didn’t breathe smoke either.

“Are you okay, Percy?” In a now-rare moment, Vex and Percy were alone by the caravans. Vax had gone on ahead to scout. Grog and the gnomes were helping Keyleth prepare for the morning.

Vex didn’t realize how much she missed these moments until she had one back.

“I’m as okay as anyone about to launch an insurgence on their childhood home,” he said sarcastically, but tried to smile in good humor.

Vex looked at Percy carefully for any sign of the black wisps. Since they left Emon, she thought she had seen hints of smoke, but couldn’t be sure. She had decided this was a good thing, even if Percy wasn’t glowing either. Gathering up her courage, Vex reached out and put her hand over Percy’s, ignoring his flinch no matter how much it hurt her. But he did not pull away either.

Whitestone

The capital of Whitestone was stunning, even in its obviously dilapidated state. While it did not have the grandeur of the capital of Emon, the city showed signs of past wealth everywhere the troupe looked. The architecture, the quality of materials for even the lowest rent dwellings, the paved streets. Vex tried to see past the disrepair, the many guards that stalked the streets, and even the two or three undead giants that sent chills down her spine.

“How could it be this bad? How could no one know what’s happening?” Keyleth lamented as the caravan passed quietly underneath of one.

“Simple: no one leaves. As long as Whitestone fills its quota of its ore and they deter as many visitors by sending out their own first, no one has to know. They most likely kill what few people dare to come out to seek extra trade and blame it on the dangerous roads.”

Percival’s voice was dark to match the cloud that seemed to persist for days now. Vex grew more and more worried, but no one else could see it and thought she was only speaking in metaphors.

Even a kind word or touch didn’t seem to phase the smoke. Now, instead of retreating from her hand, it merely engulfed it, though she could not feel any difference.

Vex’ahlia encouraged speed as much as possible. When asked why she was so eager, Vex merely stated the element of surprise would offer them the best advantage. However, she grew more concerned every day that Percy and his shadow might have a point of no return.

Chapter Text

Anna Ripley

Anna could not care less how gods or those who wished to be gods or their followers acted. The Briarwoods got results; it’s what she like about them the most. Whitestone, however, presented a gift greater than anything else she could have imagined.

Intending on experimenting with Whitestone ore, the nation’s main export and having incredible potential when distilled down to a purer form, Anna did not intend for the ruling family to present her with a more enticing opportunity. In the tour of the de Rolo’s home, they paused in the third youngest’s study and quickly moved on. Anna however, hung back to take in as much as she could.

Diagrams of human anatomy were taped neatly up on the walls, the drawings incredibly detailed with thin writing scrawled in the margins. On the work table she saw what could only be described as a metal skeleton of a hand, but with all the necessary joints of a human one.

The young man to whom the study belonged to was quiet and not inclined to talk about himself or his experiments. Anna could respect that. Little did he know, he shifted the path of Anna Ripley—and the whole continent of Tal’dorei—the would consume her life in the coming years.

In the Briarwoods’ coup, she requested that the young man—Percival, she learned his name was—to be taken prisoner, pointing out having a member of the family alive might be useful in controlling the immediate city. That, however, proved more difficult as he and his surviving sister were able to escape. They recovered the girl, but he, for all she knew, was dead to the world.

Anna felt of something at the lost of an almost equal. But no matter, his notes were more than sufficient for her to pick up and carry on. As the Briarwoods built their ziggurat and enslaved the capital and held the nation of Whitestone captive, Anna worked tirelessly on her own experiments.

Her laboratory became a place of horrific legend, full of blood and metal and screams. A devil doctor who did the work of the most evil lived there. Whispers filled the city and assisted in paralyzing any strains of resistance.

However, she soon realized that even machines could be limited by the physical forms of her experiment subjects. That’s when she turned to another means. The wasting disease was an unfortunate side effect for astounding success. In her lab, she was able to control the whittling down of her subjects’ skeletons, stopping it in multiple stages and test how far she could push the physicality. Most beings were weak, but the few strong were promising.

The giants were her most prized subjects to date, tho it had to be pointed out that most of their mental faculties had left them.

However, strains of what would become known as the wasting disease escaped Whitestone, living on necessary exports to keep the country’s economy afloat. Anna was vaguely aware of the havoc it was wreaking on the continent. But, to be blunt, she didn’t care. Nor, it seemed, did the Briarwoods. A weaker world meant it would be easier for their god to come into his own.

So both works continued uninterrupted for years, producing horrors beyond imagination until the Miracle Man and his Menagerie arrived.

The Battle for Whitestone

Dear patient reader,

Unlike most of the events of this story, you have probably heard this part. I do not wish to bore you with tedious battle strategies or numbers of the fallen. I will however share that the night before our heroes gathered around a small fire they dared to light in a hearth in a dilapidated building to stave off the damp cold that sunk into their bones. The talented and handsome Scanlan, leader of the Menagerie, stood on a small stool made a speech to his compatriots and the brave souls in the city that dared to defy their oppressors.

“My esteemed performers, who could have foretold that all of our paths, however different at their starts, would all converge here at this moment. Tomorrow, before dawn’s light, we will lead this city into revolution.” Even though he was forced to stay quiet should a passing guard hear him, the gravity of the gnome’s words were fully realized by everyone present.

“Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, you have bestowed upon us gifts beyond our wildest dreams. You have saved many of us from literal death or the death of our souls. You have given to us what is immeasurable with your companionship. It is with great honor that I, the Great Scanlan Shorthault, lay down my life for your purpose.”

One by one, the menagerie declared their fealty (though not nearly as eloquently as the first, I should say) to a very uncomfortable Percy. After the last member pledged is “fecal-ty” (Grogg, if you were unaware), the white haired Miracle Man looked around at his friends, the ramshackle family they had built together, and found himself overwhelmed by their love.

“My friends,” he said, his words strangled at first but then grew to take up the space everyone’s silence allowed

“My family, my first family,” Percy said pointedly, slowly dragging his gaze from one loved face to another. “Met their untimely end years ago in their own home. By curse or by grace, I survived and thought that one day I might return if only to exact my revenge.”

At the word revenge, Vex would later report for the story’s accuracy, a small wisp of dark smoke, visible only to the eagle eyed ranger, slipped out of the gunman’s teeth. She tensed but said nothing.

“I was hoping this would feel good, that I was doing something right by returning here. A few years ago, had a dream—a very intense dream—and in this dream. No, I woke up in the morning with an idea and over the course of what feels like another lifetime, I built this.”

Percival held up Pepperbox. (Vax would later claim he looked away, as he still couldn’t stand the sight of the thing that almost killed his sister.)

“I thought this would give me what I needed, my purpose, everything leading up to this moment. But that’s not what brought me here.”

Again, Percival looked at each one of his friends, his new family.

“You are why I am here, you are why I might have justice for my family. You all say that I saved your lives, but you are saving my soul from horrors that even that woman could not imagine.

“And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

(Vex said at this point the smoke was barely visible, that there was a glow taking over. But shadows fought light and it unnerved her to think what was happening inside of Percy.)

Reader, I wish I could say that the more silver tongued Scanlan would interject and save this rather morose speech, but this was Percival’s battle. No one who signed up did so for glory or sense of self grandeur. Those who took part in the Battle for Whitestone fought for their home or their family, the outcome a desperate hope rather than assured victory.

The battle, while not intended, was glorious. Every member of the Menagerie had their moment. Keyleth summoned dormant nature spirits surrounded the city, moving with an intensity not normally seen in nature, taking down the undead giants. Grogg and Pike were a formidable duo, leading willing citizens in storming the main castle (once Percival’s home, now the residents of the Briarwoods). Scanlan single-handedly—much to everyone’s dismay—took down one of the Briarwoods’ most trusted generals by transforming into an ancient beast. Vax became one with the shadows and while there are no second hand accounts, it is reasonable to assume he crippled most of the defenses that Anna Ripley had stationed around the premises as well as many of the Briarwoods’ sentries.

(These tales, while all brilliant, nail biting, and inspiring all in their own ways, are all too long to include in this narrative, dear reader, and will have to be saved for another time.)

Vex volunteered to help Percival get to Whitestone Castle. She knew Percy was displeased, but he was also grateful and refrained from trying to persuade her to go with Vax or Keyleth. Their mission: to infiltrate Whitestone Castle. Vax would attempt another entry point and meet them at a predetermined room before finding the Briarwoods.

At first, the two encountered little resistance as most of the forces answered either the raging Goliath leading the citizens, the surrounding forest spirits, or the dashingly handsome bard ruining one of their general’s houses. However, once they entered the main foyer of Percival’s childhood home, they encountered their first of Ripley’s monsters.

The ones that were recognizable only made the ones Vex and Percy could not identify even more horrifying. As much as it pained them, they fought their way through. Percy lowered his mask, to prevent the gore from impeding his vision and preventing Vex’ahlia from seeing the smoke start to gather until it was pouring out.

Once the final victim of Ripley’s was struck down she raced across the room and pinned Percival to the wall. The smoke had started to retreat back under the mask and she waited, both breathing heavy from the battle, until she could see an eye through one of the masks’s eyeholes.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice even but loud.

“I think, so. I’m—“

“Look me in the eye, Percy.”

“I feel cruel, but in control. This is. Controllable. For the moment.”

She tried to focus her eye, but between the mask and the smoke she could not tell if he was in immediate danger. His hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine for now. I’m—you’ll know if I’m not.”

Vex’ahlia let Percival shrug her off. He was gentle yet firm. But there was also a moment where they stood chest to chest and Vex’ahlia silently pledged if it came down to it, she would fight for Percy.

Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she followed him deeper into his family home. The first place he went to was his workshop, but it had been stripped of all his notes. Every book he had scribbled in was gone. It was being used for storage, mostly items the new occupants seemed to not want to get rid of but had no place for.

This only seemed to whip Percival into more of a frenzy, the smoke was coming back.

“Oi!” a whisper down the hall caught Vex’s attention before she could say anything. It was Vax and Keyleth. “We think we know where the Briarwoods went.”

In infiltrating the castle, Keyleth’s water nymphs let her know that there was a massive effort to redirect the aqueducts to underneath the castle. It had started happening after the old family had died and quickly. It had caused massive inequality in water distribution to the city and its immediate food sources in the surrounding areas.

“They’ve been busy sister, they’re building something massive.”

Vex watched her brother and Keyleth’s faces, noting if they noticed anything wrong with Percival, but neither of them looked at him any longer than they did at her.

“Let’s go,” Percival said and followed Keyleth who took the lead now. Vex and Vax close behind.

Chapter Text

Anna Ripley

Anna could not care less how gods or those who wished to be gods or their followers acted. The Briarwoods got results; it is what she liked about them the most. Whitestone, however, presented a gift greater than anything else she could have imagined.

Intending on experimenting with Whitestone ore, the nation’s most valued export and having incredible potential when distilled down to a purer form, Anna did not intend for the ruling family to present her with a more enticing opportunity. In the tour of the de Rolo’s home, they paused in the third youngest’s study and quickly moved on. Anna however, hung back to take in as much as she could.

Diagrams of human anatomy were taped neatly up on the walls, the drawings incredibly detailed with thin writing scrawled in the margins. On the work table she saw what could only be described as a metal skeleton of a hand, but with all the necessary joints of a human one.

The young man to whom the study belonged to was quiet and not inclined to talk about himself or his experiments. Anna could respect that. Little did he know, he shifted the path of Anna Ripley—and the whole continent of Tal’dorei—in a way that would consume her life and destroy countless others in the coming years.

In the Briarwoods’ coup, she requested that the young man—Percival, she learned—to be taken prisoner, arguing that having a member of the family alive might be useful in controlling the immediate city. That, however, proved more difficult as he and his surviving sister were able to escape. They recovered the girl, but the boy, for all she knew, was dead.

Anna felt something at the lost of an almost equal. But no matter, his notes were more than sufficient for her to pick up and carry on. As the Briarwoods built their ziggurat and enslaved the capital and held the nation of Whitestone captive, Anna worked tirelessly on her own experiments.

Her laboratory became a place of horrific legend, full of blood and metal and screams. A devil doctor who did the most evil of work lived there. Whispers filled the city and assisted in paralyzing any strains of resistance.

However, she soon realized that even machines could be limited by the physical forms of her experiment subjects. That’s when she turned to another means. The wasting disease was an unfortunate side effect for astounding success. In her lab, she was able to control the whittling down of her subjects’ skeletons, stopping it in multiple stages and test how far she could push the physical body. Most bodies were weak, but the strong few were promising.

The giants were her most prized subjects to date, tho their mental faculties were no longer present.

The strains of what would become known as the wasting disease escaped Whitestone, living on necessary exports to keep the country’s economy afloat. Anna was vaguely aware of the havoc it was wreaking on the continent. But, to be blunt, she did not care. Nor, it seemed, did the Briarwoods. A weaker world meant it would be easier for their god to come into his own.

So both works continued uninterrupted for years, producing horrors beyond imagination until the Miracle Man and his Menagerie arrived.

The Battle for Whitestone

Dear patient Reader,

Unlike most of the events of this story, you have probably heard this part. I do not wish to bore you with tedious battle strategies or numbers of the fallen. I will however, share that the night before our heroes gathered around a small fire they dared to light in a hearth in a dilapidated building to stave off the damp cold that sunk into their bones. I, the talented and handsome Scanlan, leader of the Menagerie, stood on a small stool made a speech to his compatriots and the brave souls in the city that dared to defy their oppressors.

“My esteemed performers, who could have foretold that all of our paths, however different at their starts, would all converge here at this moment? Tomorrow, before dawn’s light, we will lead this city into revolution.” Even though I was forced to whisper my words, the gravity was fully realized by everyone present.

“Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, you have bestowed upon us gifts beyond our wildest dreams. You have saved many of us from either literal death or the death of our souls. You have given to us what is immeasurable with your companionship. It is with great honor that I, the Great Scanlan Shorthault, lay down my life for your purpose.”

One by one, the menagerie declared their fealty (though not nearly as eloquently as the first, I should say) to a very uncomfortable Percy. After the last member pledged his “fecal-ty” (Grogg, if you could not guess), the white haired Miracle Man looked around at his friends, this ramshackle family they had built together, and found himself overwhelmed by their love.

“My friends,” he said, his words strangled at first but then grew to take up the space.

“My family, my first family,” Percy said pointedly, slowly dragging his gaze from one loved face to another. “Met their untimely end years ago in their own home. By curse or by grace, I survived and knew that one day I might return to exact my revenge.”

At the word revenge, Vex would later report for the story’s accuracy, a wisp of dark smoke, visible only to the eagle eyed ranger, slipped through the gunman’s teeth. She tensed but said nothing.

“I was hoping this would feel good, righteous even, that I was following my destiny by returning here. A few years ago, I had a dream that consumed me. I woke up the next morning with an idea and over the course of what feels like another lifetime, I built this.”

Percival held up Pepperbox. (Vax would later claim he looked away in disgust, as he still couldn’t stand the sight of the thing that almost killed his sister.)

“I thought this would give me what I needed, my purpose, everything leading up to this moment. But that’s not what brought me here.”

Again, Percival looked at each one of his friends, his found family.

“You are why I am here, you are why I might have justice for my family. You all say that I saved your lives, but you are saving my soul from horrors that even that the Briarwoods could not imagine.

“And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

(Vex said at this point the smoke had disappeared and that there was a glow taking over. Shadows fought the light around the human and it unnerved her to think what was happening inside of Percy.)

Reader, I wish I could say that I interjected and saved this rather morose speech, but this was Percival’s war. No one who signed up did so for glory or sense of self grandeur. We who took part in the Battle for Whitestone fought for their home or their family, the outcome a desperate hope rather than assured victory.

The battle, while not intended, was glorious. Every member of the Menagerie had their moment. Keyleth summoned dormant nature spirits surrounded the city, moving with an intensity not normally seen in naturem, taking down the undead giants. Grogg and Pike were a formidable duo, leading willing citizens in storming the main castle and cutting through Briarwood forces.

I single-handedly took down one of the Briarwoods’ most trusted generals by transforming into a fantastical beast. Vax became one with the shadows and while there are no second hand accounts, it is reasonable to assume he crippled most of the defenses that Anna Ripley had stationed around the premises as well as many of the Briarwoods’ sentries.

(These tales, while all brilliant, nail biting, and inspiring all in their own ways, are all too long to include in this narrative, dear Reader, and will have to be saved for another time.)

Vex volunteered to help Percival get into Whitestone Castle. She knew Percy was displeased, but he would later admit gratitude.

They went below, through the passageways that aided Percy’s escape from the coup. He said it only felt right to go back the way he had come. The two fought valiantly against guards and monsters who had pledged their loyalty the Briarwoods and their cause or Anna Ripley and her horrors. Vex and Percy cut them down one by one.

The enemies in the dark caverns became glowing targets through Vex’s eye and it was not until she noticed the glows dimming did she look to her side and startle at a shadow being where Percy should have been. Or rather, Percy was there, but he had become the shadow, extending his limbs in impossible angles to guide Pepperbox’s missiles to their targets.

Vex thought a silent prayer and tripled her efforts. Her arrows felt like extensions of her own limbs, and to her eye became streaks of light in the ever growing darkness at her side.

As they breached the castles’ dungeons and had a moment to breath, Vex’ahlia did not hesitate. She pushed Percival up against the wall, smoke billowing out from underneath his mask, and she knew with dread in her stomach that she may have to kill him.

“Are you alright?”

“I think so. I’m,” he paused and angled his head away from her penetrative gaze.

“Look me in the eye, Percy!” she snapped.

“I feel. Cruel. But in control.” His words were halting with significant pauses. But it still sounded like him. Vex silently prayed that was not wishful thinking on her part.

“This is. Controllable at the moment.”

“All right,” she said, letting a tinge of disbelief leak through her words. Their breaths were heavy together in the very silent dungeon after the chaos, but none of the tension left their bodies. It did not escape Vex that Percy’s hands shook, whether from adrenaline or something much darker was beyond even her perception.

The smoke lessened but did not go away, still swirling around him.

He must have sensed her unease and reached up his free hand to cover hers on his shoulder.

“I’m fine. For now. I’ll let you know if. You’ll know if I’m not.”

Percy still trusted her. Vex was angry that the realization made her tear up. She hoped it was too dark for him to see.

“I will,” she promised him and herself.

“Let’s keep looking,” he said and with very little effort broke out of her hold and started walking ahead. Vex followed closely behind.

The rest of their ascent is not notable, Reader, save for when the pair stumbled across two figures in adjacent cells. One was the horrific Anna Ripley. I do not know what the woman did to deserve imprisonment, and I do not trust the reasons she gave Percy.

“The Briarwoods, they’ve gone mad,” she said silkily, skillfully, clearly not unfamiliar with manipulation. “I could no longer do the work they required of me—”

“You had no conscience when they asked you to murder children in their beds,” snarled Percival. “I find it difficult to believe you would entertain one for one moment. However, today is your lucky day, do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because you are at the bottom of my list.”

The cold words made Vex’s skin crawl, but before she could say anything another voice cut through the gloom and the shadow.

“B-brother?”

Sometimes, Reader, we like to think that a single moment can heal us, can purge our darkness and make us anew. That, my dear Reader, would be magic worthy of the gods. However, true healing and true redemption do exist. It comes in moments, long and short, lasting and fleeting. And in the moment of embracing a long thought dead sister, Percival started to forgive himself.

“I thought—I thought,” Cassandra was barely audible, her words muffled by her brother’s coat.

“Me too,” Percy admitted, holding onto her like a life raft.

Vex watched as the shadow all but disappeared save for stray wisps. The reunited siblings were encased in a soft light but it was strong and unyielding. The hunter relaxed her grip on her bow.

After very full moments, she put her hand on Percy’s shoulder.

“We must go,” she said, letting the gravity of the situation settle back into the tinker’s heart. Shadows returned, but the light stayed like a lantern in the fog.

“Yes,” Percy agreed and with a little time to prep Cassandra (Vex gave the young de Rolo two spare daggers she kept in her boots), the trio made their way to the main foyer where the rest of their (chosen) family were congregated.

In a moment that could only be described as destiny, Percival’s Menagerie assembled in the welcome hall of Whitestone Castle before surging towards the ziggurat, all able bodied citizens of Whitestone behind them.

The Battle of the Briarwoods is an event that deserves its own tomb, its own words, so forgive me, Reader, for what I know will feel like a criminal undertelling for a battle not only for the city of Whitestone, but for the fate of Tal’dorei.

Delilah and Sylas Briarwood were formidable foes and servants to a dark one that we could not comprehend then, dear Reader. Brought to their dark lord through their love for each other, which was all possessive, all consuming, and transformed them into a powerful necromancer and a vampire. It was clear in that battle, that they would break the world for each other.

It was Keyleth who destroyed Sylas with the power of the very sun. Delilah escaped on mist but not before one of Vax’s poisoned daggers found its place in her back. We would see both of them again, but that is a story for another time.

Instead, dear Reader, I leave you with this scene.

Whitestone rejoiced. The road to recovery stretched out before them. There were walls to rebuild, monsters to dispose of. There were families to be reunited and trust to be rebuilt. But the residents of Whitestone knew that to celebrate was an act of rebellion and recovery in itself. So for the immediate future, secret stores were broken open and people cooked and decorated and sang and danced and feasted for what felt like the first time in their lives.

The Menagerie took it upon themselves in the middle of toasts to their health and wellbeing to put on a show, recounting heroic events of the skirmishes in battle. Players and actors and acrobats, long dormant under Briarwoods’ reign, joined in.

Grog improvised feats of strength and acrobatics. Pike and Keyleth wowed with magic. Vex and Trinket set up elaborate obstacle courses for themselves and others to run through. I sang old songs, new songs, made up songs on the spot that I will never remember the words to.

But the crowning glory was three days in when Vax appeared on top of Whitestone castle with glorious golden wings that from afar looked angelic but on closer inspection would reveal the most intricate gears and circuitry and (while Percy would vehemently deny it) wizardry. The crowd cheered and then gasped as the rogue pulled in the wings close and dove off the roof. Several screamed and, I am told, at least one person fainted.

Half way down, the wings extended again and the crowd became a deafening wall of noise as Vax’ildan glided soundlessly but brilliantly over the city, a shining beacon of rebirth for the city.

If anyone was in doubt of the Miracle Man before even after he became the Savior of Whitestone, that is what cemented Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III in all of Tal’dorei’s history.

Chapter Text

Aftermath

Eventually the parties gave way to meetings and committees making short and long term decisions for the rehabilitation of Whitestone and its residents. Percival suddenly found an entire city calling for his attention, leaving little to none for his menagerie. Not that the members were left to their own devices. In fact, they were in high demand.

Grog quickly fell in with the Mason’s Guild; first helped in moving debris and aided in looking for survivors; then assisted with construction and rebuilding efforts in the most damaged parts of Whitestone.

Pike was immediately accosted by the local temple of Seranrae. They were in dire need of healers for immediate injuries and to oversee the passing of those they lost in the Battle; then to help purify the temple that had been more or less abandoned if not forgotten.

Scanlan worked with any available scholars and writers, gathering witness testimony to the events not just for the Battle but also for the preceding decade. Much was lost, the Brairwoods had made sure of that. But even their reach was not infinite, and a few brave (and lucky) souls were able to save a few tombs and accounts. In the evenings and after meals, he shared many songs that people had either forgotten or had never heard, boosting morale as the list of tasks became never ending. (In the late hours, he would switch to more bawdy drinking songs that left many blushing something fierce.)

Vax’ildan was instrumental in reconnecting Whitestone to the rest of Tal’dorei. No horse could travel as fast as the half-elf with wings, and upon his return, he would alert the city to incoming emissaries and ambassadors who were eager to resume trade. But his favorite moments were when he was able to bring news of family people believed long lost. More than once, Vax found himself in a teary embrace, even if it was news of someone’s passing, alleviating weights that people had almost forgotten they carried.

Keyleth’s talents were invaluable. Her first week was spent solely with the local farmers, rehabilitating their lands and encouraging crops to sprout well past spring. Inside the city limits, she revitalized public spaces, planting trees and coaxing those not fully dead to start leaves. The sun tree in the center was of particular interest to her, being a symbol not only for the city, but for the victory over the Briarwoods and for its people.

Vex’ahlia would join small groups of scouts, first at the perimeter and then pushing into the shadows of the woods that surrounded Whitestone, flushing out any leftover horrors from the Briarwood occupancy. They hunted for food, but were frugal, as Vex pointed out that nature, while a healer in its own right, would need time to recover. They were able to contribute naturally foraged berries, mushrooms, and greens for immediate consumption, with the occasional wild rabbit.

Percy, or rather, Lord Percival was almost immediately consumed with affairs of state. There were many that had been ignored and more that had been abused by the Briarwoods. He tried to delegate what he could, but so many of the heads of households had either been banished or (more commonly) beheaded in the early years after coup. Cassandra, weak from captivity and abuse, attended what she could, but for the most part, the elder de Rolo was left to oversee meetings and make immediate rulings on disputes that flared in the still warm coals of the revolution.

Weeks passed, and while the Menagerie remained busy, they were able to hand over most overseeing responsibilities to townspeople eager to reclaim their independence. The group felt Percival’s absence keenly, especially the first night in a long time they were able to gather just themselves, minus the Miracle Man.

“Perhaps this is how it was always meant to be,” ventured Vax, but even he did not sound like he wanted to believe it. And he would not ask the next obvious question: What now?

Vex curled into Trinket for comfort. She could feel the wanderlust stir in her chest. She guessed that they all did as she looked around the room, quiet after weeks of non-stop work and feasts and watching survival start its slow transformation to precedent.

They were all wanderers, explorers; not meant to stay in one place too long. Percy was the only one of them who had been forced out of his home and his absence around their fire proved that Whitestone needed him more than they did. But acknowledging that made Vex’s heartache, so much that it dwarfed the wanderlust, at least for the moment.

Vex’ahlia

In a rare quite moment in her duties, Vex stepped lightly down the halls searching for a familiar head of white hair. Whitestone was celebrating a holiday almost forgotten so most people were out in the streets, but noticing the Lord was absent, the ranger decided to try her luck.

She found his rooms, still in some chaos in the rebuilding, were unnaturally still. As was the workroom, the forge, meeting rooms, and library. By the time she had worked her way down to the larger banquet halls, Vex’ahlia was a bit, well, vexed.

Deciding not to try the dungeons, she felt drawn to wander the grounds, and then she spied the missing Lord of Whitestone, quite oblivious to her presence at first.

The garden, although unkept, had a wild beauty to it. Percival sat on a bench beneath a tree. Several of its branches had been removed due to damage in battle or neglect and letting the early evening golden light spill over him.

He looked so beautiful, like a painting. Vex felt her face heat up as she walked towards and sat down next to him, startling Percy out of his reverie.

“Okay, Percy?” she ventured, noticing that while he was not glowing outside of the natural light, there was no darkness around him either. He looked exhausted, but some of the weight that had bore down on him was gone.

“I am well,” he said. Vex was unconvinced and put her hand over his on the stone bench, immediately calling his focus to her. Inhaling sharply, she had forgotten how intense his dark stare could be. “At least. I think.”

His speech was halting before he completely stopped. After a pause he took a deep breath and tried again. “I am thankful, but I am also sad.”

Whether it was a mirror of Vex’s soft smile or was truly his own, Percy’s lips twitched upward. “I suppose that is to be expected. Forgive me, I feel like I have not had time to sit with this absence.”

Vex knew what it was like to hold on to something so tight it was painful to let it go. She squeezed his hand. “I can leave if you—”

“Don’t go,” he said, quickly but still in his calm cadence. “I have—I have missed you. And the others.” The last sentence sounded like an after thought, but Vex brushed that feeling off, instead focusing on the general sentiment.

“Of course, my Lord,” she said teasingly, trying to shift her feelings to place she recognized and was pleased when she got a blush out of the Lord of Whitestone.

“It’s strange way to be addressed,” he said, looking away again, up at the leaves that filtered the warm sunset. “Even after weeks, there’s a part of me that expects to hear my father’s voice answer instead of my own.”

Vex’ahlia could not help but be struck by Percival’s profile. In it she saw at the same time the child who he was and the man he has become and all the possibilities of the Lord he could be all stretched out within a breath of a moment. And at the same time, she saw her friend, who at that moment she wanted to do nothing more than anything use, but to comfort him.

Vex felt compelled. And she leaned forward.

“It is—” Percival began, but would never finish his thought. For as he was talking, he turned his head slightly to face Vex’ahlia again, at the moment she expected to place a comforting kiss on his cheek, instead captured the corner of his mouth.

The sudden intimacy startled Vex and she tried to pull away as Percy leaned in, pressing another quick but this time much fuller kiss on her lips.

“Vex, I—”

“I only meant—”

“Just let me finish—”

“Your sentence?”

They both kept trying to speak before dissolving into laughter. Vex always felt romance stories were overselling the falling in love bit. And she would absolutely never admit it, even under the threat of death, but at that moment, the entire world really did feel like it had fallen away; that they were the only two people in the universe.

Percival de Rolo was shining with a gold effervescent light, not just from the setting sun but from inside himself. His eyes were crinkled behind his glasses; the small amused twitch had begun to bloom into smile. And he was looking at her. At her gasp, the smile started to falter.

“Vex, what is it? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—I thought—”

She had enough wherewithal to place a finger on his lips, stopping the spill of words that might bring the world back. Not yet.

“I have wanted to kiss you since you rescued my brother,” she said slowly, in a low almost rhythm, letting her hand fall to his chest, his heart beat stark beneath his shirt. “And then again when you rescued me. And then again when I gave you my heart.”

She felt his sharp inhale around her finger. Vex moved slowly, first her finger down from Percy’s lips then towards him. He might have been moving towards her, too but she had closed her eyes and when they came together it was as inevitable as gravity.

Percival

He was so in awe how their hands fit together. It was difficult for him not to look at them, her fingers entwined with his. Even more difficult was not to look at her face, which was beaming and somehow glowing from underneath her skin.

When Vex noticed Percy looking at her, smiled even brighter, causing him to immediately take her face in his hands and kiss her. On the mouth, on the nose, on each of her eyelids, causing her to giggle making kissing her  simultaneously more enjoyable and more difficult until he also dissolved into giggles.

This made walking back to the caravans on the outskirts of Whitestone very difficult. By the time the couple (because that’s what they were now, even if neither would admit it) had left the castle and were directed to where they could find their friends (with the Menagerie’s caravan on the outskirts of the city) the sun had sunk into a pool of reds and violets.

Stars poked through the blanket of the night sky and then moon gave enough light that it was easy enough to follow a path. If one wasn’t pulled off said path to embrace or be embraced by someone so captivating as Vex’ahlia.

The rejoining with their friends was inevitable, but Percy wanted to enjoy this for as long as he could in the simplicity of just the two of them knowing. There was a lot to discuss, a future to consider, and a brother to pacify. (Percy’s plan was to employ Keyleth to help mollify any bristled feathers, so to speak.)

The two eventually made it to the Menagerie’s gathering, a rare quiet moment when supper had been supped and the bodies and minds were settling with the world before sleep claimed them.

Vax immediately noticed Percy’s close proximity to his sister. The couple had agreed not to enter the circle holding hands, for what little good that did. Vex later shared a theory that even if she was the only one who could literally see Percy’s glow, others were perceptive to it. How could they not be? He was almost blinding for her to look at.

“Wot took you guys so long!” Grog shouted as he picked the two up with ease in a crushing hug.

Keyleth, Pike, and Scanlan were as congratulatory if not as rough. Even Trinket seemed happier with the development as he wandered over to butt his head against Percy. Only Vax stayed on the outside, his arms crossed, until Vex reached her hand out and pulled him into what was now a group hug.

She would talk to him later, but for now it was enough that they were all together.