Archive of Our Own

Cale can appreciate the man's professionality when annoyance only flickers in his eyes for a moment after Cale slams his hands down on the counter. "How can I help you, sir?" he asks, a friendly smile on his elderly face. 

Cale can't help his slight skepticism. Are you sure this is the guy?

He was Lily's sword instructor for years, Captain sighs at him. Of course I'm sure. Now be polite.

Cale, of course, has no intention to. The awkward silence that has been his caravan for the entire duration of their return to the county (completely his own fault, which he's choosing to ignore) has left him with some steam to blow off. "Can you still fight, old man?" he demands, perhaps indulging just a bit in his trash persona. 

(What else does he remember how to be?) 

Edro, Lily's sword instructor in the past-future Captain is feeding Cale, raises an eyebrow. "...Well, I'm a humble restaurant owner. I don't see why that's a question you have." 

"I know who you are. The Countess trusts you, and I need to find Lily a sword instructor like I promised. Can you do it?" Cale has found, in matters like these, it's best to be succinct. What's the point of pleasantries if he's going to end up demanding something anyway?

Edro's surprise is clear, overriding any budding frustration. "Ho..." the old man huffs, reassessing Cale. "My apologies, Young Master Cale. I somehow hadn't recognized you." Hadn't believed Cale would seek him out with good reason, more likely. "Well, it's been a while since I served the Countess, but I'm honored that you've reached out to me and I would be absolutely delighted to help the young miss advance her sword arts." 

Cale hums, eyes flicking away from Lily's new instructor to observe his little restaurant. A Place of Warmth, it's called. Generic, but fitting. The place could only be described as cozy. "Well, you have a business to run, but I'll compensate you for today so you can meet her and a better schedule will be worked out from there. You'll be paid well, of course, so don't worry about cutting your restaurant hours." Cale nods to himself, satisfied, and turns around. "I'll wait in the carriage for fifteen minutes. If you're not out then, I hope you're able to walk." 

The sign was flipped to signal the owner's lunch break when Cale barged in, so it's not like he actually has to close the place down. Just... extend his break slightly. Cale doesn't think it's a big enough restaurant to worry about reservations or anything of the like, and it's not like Edro has employees to worry about notifying of his leave. It's more a public kitchen with seating than any proper sort of restaurant. 

As Cale expected, Edro is out within five minutes, an easy smile again fixed on his face. Cale offers him a seat across from himself in the carriage, not particularly caring about what propriety might dictate against it. The children are squashed on either side of him, of course in their human forms, and Raon perches, invisible, on Cale's shoulder. "Thanks for coming on short notice," Cale thanks belatedly once they start to move, if only really because of Captain's prodding. 

Captain settles a little with Cale's concession, huffing into their mental link. He fought bravely when during the Wyverns' attack. Seeing an elderly man stand up inspired many to do the same.

Ah. Captain feels like he owes Edro. That makes more sense. 

If... if he'd survived, he probably would've helped care for Lily. While I was away.

Cale bites the inside of his cheek, diverting his gaze out the carriage window and hoping that ignoring the burning in his eyes will make it go away. There's no reason to make me think about things like that right now. You said yourself that I'm in a 'fragile mental state'. 

And yet you insisted the contrary, Captain snarks. 

Cale just sighs, pressing his eyes closed. They snap back open when his closed eyelids force him to stare into replays of the county up in flames, Father's corpse laid out at the gates and Violan's not far behind, hunched over a dead Basen and his destroyed wheelchair. 

A shudder passes through him. 

"Ah, are you cold, young master?" Edro asks politely. "There's a blanket under the seat there..." 

"I'm fine," Cale murmurs, voice gone soft without his meaning to. Perhaps he's still a little wary of setting that Dominating Aura loose like last time. "Thanks."

Choi Han still hasn't spoken to Cale since then. Even Cale's direct subordinates only address him when necessary, giving him a wide berth otherwise. Hans is the only one whose behavior hasn't changed, but Cale notices the way he jumps slightly every time Cale addresses him. 

Has he even told them he has a single Ancient Power, yet? Would they even believe him?

Ah, they'd have to. What else could explain the lout of the Henituse County suddenly being able to protect an entire plaza of civilians, or exude such a terrifying aura as a swordmaster might? It's no secret that he's a lazy good-for-nothing in his free time, which is quite excessive. 

If he didn't have an audience, Cale would let his head drop into his hands. But between the kids and Edro, Cale is certain he'd be questioned, and he doesn't... trust himself not to react violently. 

It's pathetic, isn't it? To not be able to trust himself to control such a reaction?

I already told you that wasn't your fault, Captain tries, butting into Cale's attention with his soft murmuring. 

Cale scowls out the window. And it was a lie. I should be able to control the powers under my jurisdiction. I let it loose. It's my fault.

"C-Young Master Cale?" Ohn asks gently, stuttering over her usual 'Cale-nya'. It's too obvious a tell of the Cat Tribe to use in front of others, not to mention that they're technically supposed to be his attendants. Cale doesn't care for propriety, much less forcing it on people used to living on scraps, but the public eye is unlikely to think the same. "Should, um, should Hong and I take the horses in once we get back, or would you rather we stay with you?" 

Cale deflates, having unconsciously tensed in preparation for another round of badgering. Ohn has always been a smart girl. He pats her lightly on the head in reward. "Don't worry about the horses. Mr. Choi Han will probably take care of it. He likes animals." 

Hong giggles, head turning from where he'd been transfixed by the window view. "Mr. Choi Han is super good with animals. It's funny, 'cause he's so serious-looking." 

Amusement plays on Cale's lips, his mood finally lightening. 'Choi Han' and 'serious-looking' in the same sentence... is Cale the one whose perception is skewed? That boy looks more like a puppy than anything serious on an average day. "Oh? You think Mr. Choi Han is scary? Tell me, does he mean-mug you in his down time? I'll have to give him a scolding if that's the case." 

"Oh, no!" Hong denies, eyes widening with guilt. "He doesn't do it on purpose! I think it's just his face that looks scary!" 

Ohn snorts before clapping a hand over her mouth and swatting at Hong's knee with the other. "Hong! You can't say that!" she hisses, hand blocking Cale's view of her mouth as though that will render him deaf, too. Cale allows it with vague bemusement. The innocence of children, he supposes. 

Hong turns to Cale with a sheepish grin, apparently sufficiently scolded. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. Please don't tell Mr. Choi Han." 

Cale huffs a laugh, ruffling Hong's hair much like he'd just patted his sister. "Alright, just this once I'll keep your secret. But, really, if you say that again I'm duty-bound as Choi Han's boss to inform him. It's cruel to let a man live his life looking scary on accident. Especially Choi Han, who's about as mean as a bunny."

"A bunny?" Ohn echoes, bewildered. "Young Master Cale, you've seen him fight, that's not...?" 

Another head-pat silences her into pouting belligerence directed to the carriage window. Alright, maybe she has some sort of point. Severing a man's entire arm is a bit fearsome. It's just hard to think of Choi Han as anything but slightly pitiful from Cale's perspective, who mostly interacts with Choi Han in the context of either giving him orders or praising him for fulfilling them. 

Well, then again, rabbits can be quite belligerent themselves when provoked. Perhaps it's a fitting way to describe a person like Choi Han. 

Cale, entirely too occupied with the children amusing him on either side, completely misses the considering look Edro wears as he observes this young master so very different from what he's heard. 

Cale is coming home today. 

Lily is trying not to be too excited, because she's definitely still made at him for staying away so long! But at the same time, he's been away soooo long. Papa said that Cale left a note for her in his letter saying to practice her flower crowns more, so she totally did and now they're way perfect, even Basen agrees. What she means is that she's not that mad, because at least Cale was thinking about her while he was away. 

And Lily hasn't forgotten his promise. She held up her end, practicing flower crown making like nobody's business, so she expects him to show up with a super awesome gift from the capitol and a sword instructor in tow!

Mama told her not to keep her hopes up about the sword instructor, but Lily trusts her big brother to see his promise through. And, honestly, even if he forgot because he was busy healing up from becoming a hero in the capitol, Lily wouldn't mind. After all, the hero of the capitol is her brother! Who better to learn from how to protect people than that? 

By the time the gates finally drag open to reveal Cale's carriage, Lily is bouncing hard enough to flutter her dress. Mama pats her head warningly. "Come on now, Lily. You've just a bit longer to wait." 

Lily sighs, but stills, curling her toes in her shoes in some attempt to exert her excited energy. It's only because of Mama's hand on her head that Lily doesn't go running forward to embrace Cale when he steps out of the carriage. She's kind of glad she didn't, though, because she's the only one close enough to Mama to have heard her slight gasp when an old man comes out of the carriage after Cale.

Lily squints, confused. Why is there a random guy in her orabeoni's carriage? Isn't that against the rules?

Then again, Cale never cared much for the rules. Maybe this is one of those things that everybody cares about for no reason. 

The old man's eyes fall on Mama almost immediately and his whole face crinkles into a smile as he bows. "Pardon the intrusion, Count, Countess, but I'd heard there was a young lady in need of a sword instructor and was graciously invited to fill that role."

Mama drifts away, stepping up to place her hand on the old man's shoulder. "Sir Edro, there's no need for that. You've come to teach Lily?" Mama turns, teary happiness in her eyes. "Deruth, did you-?" 

Lily doesn't stop to listen to the rest of Mama's question, her excitement boiling over as she barrels into Cale with a hug and a grin bright as sunlight. "You remembered!" she cheers, looking up at her eldest brother adoringly. "Is he the best, like you promised? Oh, oh, did you bring me a gift from the capitol?" 

Cale's face crinkles into a smile not unlike Sir Edro's did, and he crouches to meet her eyes while he ruffles her hair. Lily leans into the touch unabashedly. "Of course I did. Though, I unfortunately didn't manage to limit myself to just one, so you'll have to sort through what I've brought along," he sighs out, forlorn. "And Young Lady Amiru was just insistent that I bring you something from the Ubarr territory as well, it's all terribly burdensome..." 

Lily's grin grows impossibly wider, and she squeezes Cale in a hug as best she's able. "You're totally the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you so much, orabeoni!" 

Cale's breath hitches, in a way that's the same as Mama. That's Lily's only warning before Cale pulls away, his smile taking up a whole lot less of his face and looking like it's being forced to stay. "Well, then I've got to get it all unloaded quickly, don't I? I'll get to it, Lily." 

And then he's turning around, going away, and within another blink he's gone, vanished in a flurry of servants and luggage. 

Lily is left standing exactly where she was, smile long dropped off her lips. 

What did I say wrong?

Violan had watched, embarrassingly gobsmacked and a little bit nervous, as Lily went dashing to Cale. She turns to Edro, asking without words if what the girl claims is true.

"Did... you not tell your children about me, my lady?" he asks with genuine confusion in answer. 

Violan huffs, a bit astounded. "I'd never found the right moment to explain it to anyone but the Count. How did he ever...?" She trails off, attention stuck on the scene before her. Deruth's eldest, crouched in front of Lily with an indulgent smile on his face, could only be described as looking doting. For perhaps the first time, Violan is more than willing to believe Deruth when he says that Cale loves the children that have become his siblings. 

"—I love you so much, orabeoni!" 

And then it all comes clattering down. 

Cale's face freezes, falling into an expression more open than Violan has ever seen on him. He looks vulnerable, chin tucked over Lily's head, but more than anything guilty. Violan couldn't begin to guess why, but among a parade of fear, hurt, and something Violan dares to call longing, he more than anything looks guilty. 

And then, with a plastic smile replacing that shattered-raw face, Cale pulls away, promising to set out all the gifts he'd brought along for Lily. He's gone in a flurry of servants before even saying hello to the rest of the family that'd assembled at the door to meet him, and Violan glances back at Edro and feels a sinking suspicion that this was always Cale's intention. 

He'd probably planned to direct their attention to Edro and flee immediately, if it weren't for Lily running into him to demand a hug. 

Violan's initial reaction to that conclusion is resignation—why would the child that's isolated himself for years accept so much as a 'welcome home'? Perhaps he refuses it as a way to remind them he will never consider his home one they can also call their own.

But the more emotional part of Violan, the part of her that fell into ruin with the spoils of her noble lineage, the part of her that picked apart all those terrible feelings in that brief moment of Cale's openness, is sure that isn't the truth. If it were, which she has no right to condemn, why would he look so afraid?

No person holding anger in their heart, true anger, will look at a person who loves them and be afraid. 

Lily turns back to Violan, open hurt now on her own expression as her eyes begin to water. "Mama?" she calls, and Violan rushes over without a thought, hushing her and wiping the budding tears. "What... was it something I said? Why did...?" Her words choke of with a hitched breath and a renewed round of tears. 

Violan sighs, collecting Lily into her arms. This is her own fault, as much as it is Deruth's and perhaps more than it is Cale's. If she'd reached out sooner, if she'd tried as hard as she could to set him on the right path... 

When was the last time Cale felt it was acceptable to receive love from a person who calls themselves Henituse? Was it the day before Deruth introduced his new wife, or perhaps the last day he saw his mother? It's easy to see, in any of their portraits and the few family meals Cale attends, that Cale does not—feels as though he does not belong.

He does belong. Violan believes he does. She will make it so. 

"Your brother is experiencing a difficult time," she tells Lily, wondering exactly how much she should burden her child with, if only to soothe her mind. Violan's critical lack as a mother is that these sort of metrics have never come naturally to her. "Your companions told you he was hurt in the capitol, yes?" 

Lily gasps, her tearful expression fading almost immediately in favor of open concern. "Have I hurt him more? Did I hug him too tight?" She pauses, eyes widening as the possibility truly sinks in, and then bursts into an even more significant crying fit. Violan winces. Lily has always been an overly worrying child; she should've expected this reaction. 

Basen, Violan's wonderful boy, comes over with a sympathetic smile directed towards his mother. "Lily, I'm sure he's being seen to right now. If it wasn't bad enough for him to tell you, then it surely wasn't bad enough to leave true damage." 

"B-but he—sniff—doesn't complain even when he gets scratched by thorns n' stuff! What if he's pretending a-and—sniff—I really...!" 

Basen pats Lily's head, grabbing her hand as Violan sets her down. "Lily, why don't we go into the garden? You can make another flower crown as a gift. That will surely cheer him up." 

Lily scrubs at her tears, continuing to sniffle but looking a little more hopeful at the prospect of reconciliation. Violan deflates slightly with relief as Basen leads his sister away, presumably to the gardens. Violan doesn't miss Deruth whispering to a servant who quickly follows after the children, presumably to prepare tea and play babysitter. She can't help but watch her wonderful family with adoration. How did she ever get so lucky? It's almost picturesque. 

All it's missing is a dash of red. 

Hans enters the young master's room hesitantly. 

He's not afraid of Cale Henituse; he'd be underserving of his position, freshly appointed Deputy Butler, if he was. 

Even still, Hans worries. For one, because of his master's fragility. The man refuses to acknowledge it, drinking himself under the table and fighting off terrorists with the flick of his wrists, jumping off buildings and cliffs, recruiting criminals as staff...

Just thinking about it all gives Hans a headache. Especially the latter-most; being the only incident he'd reported to the Count directly, it isn't Hans's favorite subject to ruminate on. The Count's face, when Hans revealed that the new attendants Cale had brought in were criminals of decent reputation within the slums, is one that continues to haunt Hans in his worst of dreams. 

And yet Cale still believes his actions go undetected by the members of the estate. It makes Hans want to bang his head against the wall. Despite all his fondness for his kind-of-terrifying young master, how could that stupid boy not realize he only gets away with this through all his father's indulgence?

Hans sighs inaudibly, collecting himself. He has to focus his mind for this confrontation; even if the randomly acquired(? or is it? Hans still needs to investigate that.) aura the young man displayed left them all a bit wrong-footed, his ensuing, er, lapse of judgment is Hans's current priority. It'd take a fool to miss that something is distressing the young master, especially after watching his interaction with Young Lady Lily upon arriving back at the estate. 

Seeing Cale's face bear that expression... 

Hans had looked away. It'd felt like an intrusion to watch.

"Did Father need something?" Cale asks, breaking the silence of Hans setting down the young master's tea. 

Hans hesitates. Would Cale be wanting to speak to the Count? With this particular young man, Hans has learned, he must read into every word as a secret request of its own. It's tiresome to play the game of politics, but perhaps more so tiresome to serve those who only speak that tongue. Ah, but it would be presumptuous of him to fill that in on the Count's behalf. He's sure the Count would oblige without thought, but it'd be awkwardly clear that Hans had arranged the meeting without direction. 

"No, young master. I was simply sent to make sure you're comfortable upon your return," is the response Hans settles for, though he frowns to himself at the impersonality of it. "I want the young master to relax happily after working hard abroad." 

A wry smirk curls on Cale's lips and he tilts his head back to smug-face in Hans's direction. "You want? That's a bit bold, Hans, I'm impressed." 

Hans doesn't falter at the half-hearted intimidation, cocking his head with a guileless smile. "You yourself told me to speak to you less formally, young master. I hope I don't overstep." 

"I'm just messing with you," Cale folds immediately, waving a hand in dismissal of the conversation. He sips his tea, perking up slightly at the taste. "...You added extra sugar." 

Hans turns to fuss with some linens to hide his proud grin. Heh. Beacrox told him not to, but would sour tea have provoked the slight but genuine quirk of Cale's lips? No. "That's the way you prefer it, is it not? I can prepare a different cup if you'd like." 

"Ah, no," Cale denies immediately. "This is good." He pauses, as though hesitant, then buries his voice against the teacup as he murmurs, "Thanks, Hans." 

Now busied with actual tasks of tidying the room (to his standards, which the other servants had clearly not maintained. Disgraceful.), Hans's attention is directed away from the young master wholly enough that he dares to ask his questions. "If this humble servant may be so bold, young master, could I ask you something?" 

"You already have."

How petty. "Something else, then." 

Cale sighs, but concedes easily. "Speak freely if you want. If you get too noisy, I'll just kick you out." It's perhaps meant to be a threat, but Hans isn't sure he's capable of perceiving the young master in such a way anymore. For once, Hans understands Ron's constant comparisons of Cale to a puppy.

"How did you acquire such a powerful presence, as the one you displayed in Harris Village?" 

All the levity drains from the room, painfully as blood sucked out by a leech. Hans sees Cale's hold on the teacup tremble out of the corner of his eye, only for a moment before Cale sets the porcelain down. "Oh, that's..." 

Hans wants to assure him that an answer is not required, not to speak if it's uncomfortable to, but he fears shutting down any budding desire to open up that may already exist. 

Cale's face drops into his hands, perched by the elbows on his thighs. He sighs. It's shaky. "I don't... it's not as though I'd trained to acquire it. My body is as frail as ever. It's really only an ability good for scamming." 

"An ability that's good for something is perhaps better than no ability at all," Hans offers quietly, his own meager attempt at reassurance. He still hasn't a clue why gaining such a power would bother the young master so much. Hans himself wouldn't hurt to be able to scare off an offender with a simple glance. "And it's no use to disregard protective tools at your disposal." 

"Are you scared of me, Hans?" Cale's question is sudden, and he stands just as unexpectedly and quickly. His frame is slight, but his shoulders are squared in a way that is easy to read as imposing. "Do you wonder when I'll next lose my temper and lash out, or how severe the consequences of my next tantrum might be?" 

Ah, so that's the problem. Hans probably should've foreseen this, after that late night cleaning up shattered glass and ushering away a leery-looking Young Master Basen. The boy had looked a bit frightened when he glanced at Cale, and Cale had just looked sick. 

Hans, foolish as he is, had written it off as the alcohol. 

"With all due respect, Young Master, I would not be able to speak so openly to you if I feared you." It's an honest truth, and perhaps also what Cale needed to hear. He collapses back into his seat, a hand pressed to his forehead, still trembling. "Should I fetch more tea? A cold compress?" Ron would probably offer lemon tea, claiming that it's good for headaches, but Hans is in the bad habit of spoiling his young master with indulgent treatment. He'd hate to force him to drink something awfully sour right now.

Cale shakes his head, hand dropping to his lap to entwine with its limp counterpart. "No, I..." He exhales another shaky breath. "Hans, do you know what I feel about the Countess? Basen and Lily?" 

His questions don't even turn up at their ends, his voice downtrodden with preemptive resignation. 

Oh dear. Hans knows he has to answer this delicately. "Well, I can't presume to understand the young master's feelings." That's not the answer Cale is looking for, though, so Hans pushes on. "But if your departure and arrival from this estate have made one thing clear, it is that you treasure the Young Lady Lily very much. If I dare to assume such by your interactions in the capitol, in your behavior after he fell sick, I'd say the same applies to your feelings about the Young Master Basen."

Hans hesitates to approach the subject of Countess Violan. He feels no uncertainty that his assessments of Cale's love for his siblings are true, but Hans truly has little idea how Cale really thinks of the Countess. "As for the Countess, I can only say with certainty that you treat her with respect and cordiality not many others in your position reserve." This case, in which a noble with a child remarried to a woman of a fallen noble house also with a child, is perhaps rare, but mostly due to the fact that the woman and her child almost always end up dead.

"It is one of many reasons I am proud to serve the Henituse and you in particular, Young Master. I find that few other nobles hold their tongues even when they have rights to the contrary." 

Cale's eyes sharpen and he turns to assess Hans's face. "Are you saying the Countess deserves my vitriol? That she lacks a place in this estate?" 

And, really, there's Cale's answer. Hans can't help but smile brightly. "I feel as though your reaction informs me of all I need to know to answer your question, Young Master Cale. I'd be a liar to call you anything but a devoted brother and son." 

Cale turns away too slowly for Hans to miss the way his expression cracks. 

Hans steps carefully closer, fingers brushing lightly against Cale's shoulder. "Young Master, dismiss me if I overstep, but... I hope to serve you in any way you require. Nothing you confide in me will leave this room." 

Well, most of it. Deruth is Hans's actual boss, after all, and there are rules of what Hans can allow to stay as Cale's private business. 

A sniffle. Hans almost flinches away. Cale turns to him, teary-eyed and teeth grinding, when he doesn't. "I..." His throat bobs, as though he is trying to swallow back the tears continuing to surface. "Hans, I want to protect my family. I want to live." 

"You'll live a long life, as will they," Hans tries, fingers on Cale's shoulder becoming a full hand. The young master's expression is worrying him. 

Cale continues like he hadn't heard Hans speak, laughing deprecatingly, most likely at himself. "And to think, just a year ago, I'd been content to drink my life away. I thought it was a good way to die. As though... as though I'd become useful, by making sure Basen could become heir." By killing myself. 

Hans's face drains of blood, becoming pallid, and it takes all his training not to sway where he stands as the years of gossip come washing over him. He hadn't participated, more concerned with his career than hearsay, but the vitriol spat about this young man wasn't easy to forget. Violent and indulgent and cruel, drinking away his father's money for his own delight and the county's terror.

He'd begun serving Cale only about a year ago, shadowing under Ron. How had he failed to notice?

And then Cale turns and fixes his unusual eyes directly into Hans's, and Hans finally understands why those unique rings are described as uncanny. Unsettling. Frightening. It feels as though Cale is peering through him, into him, unveiling all his secrets and lying them bare. "You mustn't tell, Hans, but I know. Who could I tell? I don't know how much longer."

"What?" Hans asks, hands hovering and unsure. The young man is murmuring to himself and maybe to Hans, but his pupils shake in the same terrified beat as his hands and Hans is lost for what to do. "Young Master, what—"

"That's no good at all," Cale interrupts like Hans hadn't spoken. "There's too little time, too much, and yet I can't seem to tell. Hans, you mustn't tell." 

"Young Master," Hans murmurs, interrupting the frantic mumbling and grabbing both of those scrambling, shaking hands in his own. "Are you ill? You must be honest with me."

It's not his place, to demand honesty from his master, but the terror in Cale's eyes and the mania in his words are undeniable. It sounds as though he sees his end approaching, and with all that talk of dying and making space for Basen as heir, of protecting his family (from what?), of purpose—

Hans fears. 

Whipper Kingdom is... impressive. For a southern nation, Cale had expected overwhelming warmth. He's not incorrect to have assumed so; with the ocean on one side and the jungle on another, Whipper Kingdom boasts a moderate climate, if a bit humid. 

And then there's Mount Yellia, the eternal land of snow. 

...What a juxtaposition. The pure white especially so, when contrasted with the bloodied fields of war left all around him. Cale very carefully avoids Hans's gaze; he's sure the butler's face will be tight with poorly-concealed distaste. It'd been hard enough convincing Father to let him come here to visit the Magic Tower, Roan's only, and that was in part because Hans so stubbornly insisted that he could take care of Cale within the Henituse territory on his own. 

Stubborn bastard. There's nothing he can do to balance a plate overfull on Ancient Powers. 

That's why Cale's made his way here, despite the ongoing civil war. He'd contacted Toonka, called in his favor from the Crown Prince, and the Magic Tower now resides in his possession. It's been well and thoroughly damaged by the war, but most of the documents inside are in tact. 

It's a stupid hope that a mere mage's tower will have the secrets even an apparition from the future can't tell him, but Cale is running out of options and time. It's not like Cale can freely consult the mages that once used it, either; some have fled to the Crown Prince's protection, but more have simply been captured or killed by the anti-mage faction led by Toonka. 

Cale will make do with their work left behind. 

The tower is as eerie as he expected it to be when he steps inside. It's clear that it's unnaturally empty, cleaned of life despite the overabundance of research lying around, and the mess of the place is clear enough sign of a struggle. 

Cale kind of thinks it's pathetic. These people claimed to be able to bend nature to their will; they were gods among men, or so they conducted themselves. They were the exception to every law the universe has written. If Rosalyn's capabilities—what limited amount Cale has seen—are any indication, they have unquantifiable power at their fingertips. 

Does magic resistance really strip them of all that strength? How is it that human will can overpower that might?

"Human," Raon murmurs, perching on Cale's shoulder. Cale pauses. The young dragon sounds hesitant. "There's someone here." 

Tension coils up Cale's spine. A mage? It'd make sense if at least one mage managed to hide themselves within the tower, he supposes, but that's a problem for Cale. Toonka is probably stupid enough to overlook Cale leaving the tower with one more member of his entourage than he entered with, but his assistant, Harol, is keener-eyed. And that's assuming Cale will want or be able to take this mystery person under his protection. What if it's a mage deeply involved in the tower's wrongs? Will they try to kill him?

Worse yet, what if it's an unfound victim? Cale has heard horror stories of the atrocities committed within these walls.

"Where are they, Raon? Lead the way." No matter who they are, that person will have no reason or ability to oppose him while he has the backing of a mighty dragon. 

Raon obligingly directs him, winding up and around until Cale is disoriented from height and direction. They must be multiple floors from the base of the tower, by now. Cale wheels around slowly, now able to hear a faint breathing, the minute scuffle of shoes against stone. 

A child emerges from the stone, glancing around warily. Cale taps Raon once against his snout, asking him to release the invisibility cloaking Cale. Once Cale appears, the boy screams and scrambles back, trembling with terror. 

Cale softens despite himself. "It's alright," he soothes, putting his hands up and crouching to the boy's level. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm the new owner of this tower, Cale Henituse. Are you hurt?" The child doesn't look injured, but a wriggling hatred still bubbles within Cale at the thought that a person so young was involved in the activities of this tower, one way or another. The kid can't be older than twelve; that's not old enough to tell your superiors off when they're conducting themselves poorly, and that's definitely too young to protect yourself from inhuman experimentation. Why did the anti-mage faction not cart this poor kid away from here?

The boy stares blankly, nothing but fear in those shaking pupils as they drift between Ohn, Hong, and Cale. 

Cale finds himself glad Raon hasn't shown himself. That'd probably only scare the boy further. He smiles, face creasing with sympathy. "C'mon, I promise you're safe now. Can you tell me your name?" 

"Y-you anti-mage?" the boy finally stammers, except he doesn't sound like a boy at all. He sounds like a grown ass man, in fact, voice deeper even than Cale's.

Cale's face drops with confusion. Wh-what?

The fear returns, twofold, when Cale doesn't immediately respond. "Hey, hey," Cale says, brain finally catching up to him. "Listen, calm down. I'm not anti-mage or pro-mage or anything. I'm not even from Whipper, alright? I just bought the Tower 'cause I need some research from it. I'm gonna take a guess and say you're not actually a kid, but..." What the hell are you doing here? or Why do you look like a ten-year-old? sit on the tip of his tongue, but he can't decide which is more pertinent and just lets the exceptionally young-looking man fill in the blank for himself. 

The guy shudders, hunching into himself, but at least he doesn't run away. "I'm Mueller. Last... last of the Hon family who built this tower."

Okay. Okay, cool. Potential evil mage avoided. Just a... builder? 

That doesn't make sense. "Why are you here if you're just a builder?" 

Mueller's eyes sharpen with offense; the expression makes him look almost rat-like, paired with his mousy gray hair. "I'm thirty years old and I've been 'just a builder' for twenty-nine of 'em," he scoffs. "I'm the reason this tower hasn't collapsed into rubble." 

If the unyielding attacks of the anti-mage faction are any gauge, that's a pretty impressive feat. Cale backs off, hands again raised peaceably as new gears turn in his head. "Thirty years old and cowering like a little kid," Cale prods, a blankly mocking look taking up his face as he cocks his head to the side. 

Mueller shrinks, though a fire remains bright in his eyes. "You'd be scared too if you saw those crazy anti-mage fighters coming for your head! I wasn't even involved in all that crap they did here, but those brutes couldn't care less! I wouldn't be able to step foot out here alive, and I've barely got enough food left to last the day!"

Cale grins. Jackpot. "You're afraid of that stupid guy, Toonka?" He huffs. "I got him out of the Ubarr territory without a prison sentence despite nearly killing the heir, so he owes me. If your problem is getting out of here, I don't think you're worried for any good reason." 

Mueller's head shakes, the tremors returning to his clenched fists. "No, no, you don't get it. Those people are crazy. They won't see reason or debt or anything once they realize who I am." 

Another tap to a warm snout and Cale has a visible dragon perched on his shoulder. He scritches Raon indulgently behind the ear when Mueller turns five shades paler and falls flat on his ass. "I assure you, Mueller. Toonka won't be causing us trouble." 

And then Cale is one inventor richer; it's a lucky thing, because if Cale dies, all his and Captain's plans of defending the territory with Unbreakable Shield are gone to dust. Mueller can fix that problem right up, seemingly miracle defense builder he is. The man owes Cale his life with this escape from Whipper, and Cale has no qualms entrapping yet another person in a life contract. Especially such a coward masquerading in the body of a child. It's kind of annoying, because his tiny form keeps evoking Cale's sympathy completely needlessly. 

It's slightly less annoying when Mueller leads them to a secret underground room full of the former Tower Master's treasures. Cale leaves significantly richer with more than just an inventor, and it's only because of Raon's magical help that Cale doesn't find himself complaining about the weight of his spacial bag. For such advanced magic, one would assume the weight problem would be eliminated. 

Granted, Cale also has liters of cave water he'd forgotten to remove from when Thief had insisted on his collecting it while he was trying to keep Pasteon from dying, but it's still a reasonable idea. A weightless spacial bag... maybe, if Cale set Mueller to the task of creating one, he could sell a patent for it as well. Father would be happy with the usage interest that'd come from such a product; maybe Cale could put some of the money towards Violan's art ventures or Lily's training. The knights' grounds could use a refreshment. 

Or, Captain interrupts his daydreaming, you could save to be able to supply for the war effort. Cale sighs, mood sufficiently dashed. He could do that, too, but who's hurt by idle thoughts? I'm serious, Captain presses. You won't be able to rely on Father's money for everything you need to do to prepare, and the Crown is no longer indebted to you. You need to be able to provide for yourself.

What a wonder: the trashy noble born with a golden spoon in his mouth, providing for himself.

Alright, Cale thinks, sighing. A short-term goal: become the richest scumbag on the continent. 

There is a human on Eruhaben's mountain. 

The simple thought irritates him; another wish-seeking fool? Perhaps. Maybe a wanderer, though Eruhaben doubts one simply wanders to Mount Yellia. Most likely, he now unwillingly hosts a fugitive of the petty civil conflict occurring in the kingdom at the foot of the mountain. Eruhaben settles with this thought, certain the human will perish in the harsh conditions soon enough. 

And then, a flicker of what is undoubtedly draconic magic bursts to life around the human, unmistakably distinguished from Eruhaben's own. A dragon is accompanying the human on Mount Yellia, and Eruhaben's day has suddenly become much more tiring. 

What is a dragon doing, accompanying anyone? Eruhaben would be surprised to find that the youngling has even reached its first growth phase yet, the energy being so clearly fresh, but that time of youth is when a dragon is its most brash and standoffish. And, moreover, to accompany a human? A beast person, at the least, would be more believable. 

Despite himself, Eruhaben feels his curiosity burgeoning. This child, aside a mere mortal, have come to brave Mount Yellia, and have traversed farther than most have in centuries. Eruhaben only really intended to visit his lair briefly before returning to guard the World Tree, but perhaps this will require his attention a bit longer. He might be forced to contact the elves to inform them of extending his stay. 

Eruhaben huffs a disbelieving laugh at the thought. Him, a nearly thousand-year-old dragon, being forced to do something. How ridiculously unbelievable. It reminds him of his youth, when he first discovered his attribute and withstood the mockery of his peers. He hadn't caved even then, beating two other dragons to a pulp with his bare claws, and he hasn't lost a fight since. What a situation to come upon, for curiosity to root him in place. 

He withdraws the withering winter winds just so slightly, allowing the pressing human-dragon duo closer to his lair as he emerges, comfortable warm amidst the pure-white snow. 

Extending his senses, Eruhaben observes the encroaching figures in the distance. 

"Raon," the red-haired human murmurs to his companion, a black dragon the size of an infant, "are you certain of this? If this weather is any indication, this dragon doesn't want to be bothered." 

"If he didn't want to be bothered, weak human, he would've pushed us off the mountain! As a great and mighty dragon, I could accomplish that easily!" Eruhaben smiles without realizing. The arrogance of children is endearing, in its particularly exhausting way. 

Smartly enough, the human just sighs and concedes. That, too, amuses Eruhaben, and he feels a small bit of respect grow for the young man. It seems he's torn between respecting the assumed will of an elder dragon and the will of a dragon at his side; quite a predicament. If Eruhaben were one for pity, he'd perhaps feel sympathetic to such a plight. Still, he finds himself too old to concern with such things, and instead withdraws the storm further in hopes of luring his uninvited guests in faster. His curiosity, even in his old age, is making Eruhaben impatient.

The dragon youngling, Raon, seems to notice, expression opening with excitement Eruhaben had never imagined himself to see on the face of a proud dragon meeting another. "Look! He's even inviting us in, pulling back the snow! He definitely wants to meet us, c'mon!" 

"Raon..!" the human calls half-heartedly, trudging along behind the excited child and short of breath. 

They're at the mouth of Eruhaben's layer within the half-hour. Eruhaben doesn't waste his energy transforming to his human form as he separates from the shadows of the cavern, mighty claws emitting echoing clacks against the cave floors. “Don’t you know,” he questions the youngling, “that it’s impolite to barge into another dragon’s territory?”

”Woah!” the child crows, expression glittering with elation. “You’re huge, Goldie Gramps! Am I gonna get that big one day, weak human!?”

The human looks a little queasy at being addressed, the dredges of awe still clinging to him from the reveal of Eruhaben’s true form. Eruhaben wonders with no small amusement who this human is to Raon, for the dragonling to consult him for an answer instead of the ancient dragon before him. The human seems reliable, at the least, collecting himself quickly to reply, "If you eat well as I tell you." 

Eruhaben almost laughs as the child whines reluctantly. How conniving.

With Raon's distraction, the human turns to Eruhaben, inclining into a bow. "Mighty dragon-nim, I do sincerely apologize for encroaching on your territory. We only came to Mount Yellia so I could sate a—er—friend's curiosity." 

There's something there that the human is withholding, but Eruhaben doesn't press, reclining himself to better observe his new guests. "Don't concern yourself," he brushes off. "If I wanted to dismiss you, you'd be far from the mountain. All I require is that you sate my curiosity, human: what are you doing with a dragonling following you around?" 

Raon, clued into the conversation being about him, stops busying himself flitting around Eruhaben to study the edges of the lair hidden behind his great form. "Huh? I'm not following the weak human! I'm protecting him because he's weak!" 

The human nods along obligingly. "I am in the mighty Raon-nim's care. I was fortunate to stumble upon him in a territory nearby my home, and he graciously offered his strength," he explains. Eruhaben's eyes sharpen. There's another hidden meaning there, one which Eruhaben is much more keen to dissect. What business has a young dragon in a human territory? Better yet, how does a noble child simply 'stumble upon' such a mighty being?

"Raon, you are called?" Eruhaben rumbles, turning his gaze to the child. Raon chirps eager agreement, and Eruhaben sighs slightly, transforming to his human form. "Come along into my lair. Your human will not last long in the cold." 

He was protected under Raon's spell, but Eruhaben would prefer Raon is distracted for the conversation he is about to have. If he needs to kill this human the dragon has affection for, it would be uncouth to do so in the dragonling's presence. Raon protests as much, sighting his own magic to be strong enough to set all of Whipper Kingdom ablaze, but Eruhaben simply dismisses him with the notion of saving his strength when the viable option of warmth is nearby. 

The human, of course, follows them in mutely. Eruhaben allows Raon free roam to explore, bidding he doesn't touch anything of Eruhaben's. Raon, naturally curious, agrees without pause. Eruhaben then sits the human at a table and summons tea, pouring a cup for each of them. "Tell me how you encountered the dragonling," he demands, offering no preamble.

The human's face darkens as he clutches his teacup, gaze dropping. "A human in the Stan territory had... acquired a dragon egg. Once that egg hatched, that human felt entitled to suppress the dragon's mana and treat it as he wished in hopes of..." his face and voice curdle with disgust in time, "taming it. I... knew only of a dragon in the area, and sought to bargain with it to leave the territory. Instead, I found Raon."

It's only Eruhaben's great age that allows him the restraint he needs to suppress the Dragon Fear pushing beneath his skin. Always a human; in all his uncountable years, their audaciousness remains unfailing. Eruhaben, despite knowing it will help little, is tempted to ask for the name of this miniscule being which possesses such gall. He already has a location. 

"I ask, despite my humility, dragon-nim," the human interrupts his thoughts, visibly nervous but expression resolved, "that you refrain from enacting revenge on Raon's behalf. It's an event he deserves to enact for himself." 

Eruhaben sighs into his tea. At the least, he has no reason to murder the dragonling's apparent caretaker. It makes sense, Eruhaben supposes, for Raon to behave so strangely for a typical dragon; knowing little but pain and human audacity for his early years will without a doubt alter a natural inclination for isolation.

Though, Eruhaben finds himself wondering more about this human, who Raon has sought solace in despite many years of suffering and the hands of humans. "Tell me your name," he says, softening the demand to something like a request. There is little in this world that deserves Eruhaben's respect, but he can recognize this human as more than a passing existence for the service he has done for his young companion. 

"I—I'm Cale. Cale Henituse, dragon-nim," the human stutters, seemingly aware of the magnitude of being asked his name by a mighty, ancient dragon. Eruhaben decides that this, too, pleases him. Cale Henituse seems well aware of the respect and deference a mighty existence deserves. It has surely done well for Raon to experience the deference he should come to expect from all beings. "If I may, dragon-nim, I have a few questions I feel might be best answered by one such as you." 

Eruhaben raises a brow. Cale Henituse undoubtedly possesses a skill for words. "I have no problem with you asking, though I promise no answers." 

Cale inclines his head respectfully. "If... I cannot say I find much available knowledge on the growth of dragons," he begins hesitantly. "I'm aware of the growth phases, but what should I be feeding Raon? I give him lots of meat, but he complains when I try to include greens in his meals. Are dragons omnivorous or are the vegetables hurting him? Is there a particular kind of meat that's best for him?" 

The hesitance has broken way into what Eruhaben decides to call 'fretting', like a mother hen dawdling pecking at her chicks' stubborn feathers. And here Eruhaben was, the fool he is, imagining Cale to ask about finding treasures or acquiring influence. 

Still, Eruhaben answers each question indulgently, ranging from Raon's diet to socialization and scale maintenance. Cale seems to be in no shortage of worries for his companion's upbringing, eventually also bringing up two Cat Tribe children he's become responsible for and picking Eruhaben's admittedly sparser knowledge on their care and nurturing. It's around this point that Raon comes flying back into the main room, landing without second thought on Cale's shoulder. 

Cale fusses over him without pause, smoothing a hand down his scales to clean imaginary dirt and chiding the child lightly for not being polite and greeting their host first. Raon preens at the attention, only grumbling with the scolding but obligingly turning to thank Eruhaben—er, 'Goldie Gramps', as he's apparently taken to calling him—for letting him look around. "You've got a super cool house, Goldie Gramps, but it's not as nice as my weak human's!" 

"Raon!" Cale chides again, scratching the child behind the ear despite his attempted discipline. It's no wonder the child has no restraint; he's clearly spoiled beyond reason. "You must be polite. Not only is dragon-nim our host, but our senior. Didn't I teach you to respect your elders?" 

"You said I didn't have to respect anyone, 'cause I'm a great and mighty dragon!" Raon protests, flaring his wings as though in proof. One smacks Cale in the gut and he jerks with a quiet oof! Eruhaben can appreciate the sentiment, at least.

Cale blushes, glancing awkwardly at Eruhaben out of the corner of his eye. "That... yes, but dragon-nim is also a dragon, so as your elder you should respect him."

Eruhaben huffs, finally intervening. "You're correct, Raon, that a dragon owes none his deference, but listening to your elders yields a sharp mind and steady claws. You'd do to learn that." He pauses, considering. "And you, Cale Henituse, may call me Eruhaben. That is my name." 

Cale blinks, again astounded, and doesn't flinch even as Raon wriggles from his loosened grasp. "Ah... It is truly an honor, Eruhaben-nim." 

"Hey, Goldie Gramps, can I show my human around, too?" Raon asks, and Eruhaben imagines his tail wagging like a dog's in his puppyish excitement. "I wasn't lying when I said you've got a pretty nice house." 

Eruhaben stands from his chair with effortless grace, making even the practiced noble movement of the human look clumsy as he follows. "I suppose I can tour you both properly. There's not much to see. I only visit here occasionally." 

"Huh?!" Raon gasps, flying above Eruhaben's head. "Why's that? It's so comfortable in here! I'd live here all the time if this was my house!" 

"Lair," Eruhaben corrects. "We dragons call our abodes lairs, young one." 

Raon hums, likely only half-listening. "And, to answer, I have a duty to protect the World Tree which I attend to during most times, far away from here. Traveling between is something I reserve for rare occasions." 

"The World Tree?" the child echoes cluelessly. "What's that?" 

Oh dear, is all Eruhaben can think. He's not surprised, but this child's educations is sorely lacking. Cale at least has the decency to look ashamed when Eruhaben glances behind himself. Eruhaben believes, however, that there is little time better to learn than the present, and goes on a long-winded explanation of the wondrous intersection of divinity and nature that he has sworn himself to guard.

It's when they enter Eruhaben's storage room, littered with knicknacks Eruhaben has collected over his centuries, that he's interrupted by a slight wind kicking up. It isn't Raon's doing, Eruhaben is sure, because the energy emanating from Cale Henituse is unmistakable. He turns to observe the panicking human with renewed curiosity. This child seems to continuously pique his interest. 

"Sorry," the human apologizes hurriedly, wincing. "That's, um. I can't actually control her. She kind of acts up whenever there's a powerful artifact near, and she won't calm down until I get it. Leftovers of being a thief, I guess." 

Eruhaben cocks his head curiously. "'She'?" he echoes. "I wasn't aware that Ancient Powers possessed sentient identities." 

"H-huh?" Cale stammers, pausing. The wind still gently whips his hair out of place, sending a few loose pages nearby fluttering. "Oh, no. It's not... They're the previous owners, of the powers, I think. I was able to talk to most of them when I first got them." 

'Most', he says, and that gives Eruhaben his first incentive to peer deeply into the human's soul. He winces without thinking at what he sees. "How did you ever acquire four Ancient Powers, child?" 

Cale's expression crumples with resignation and something Eruhaben wants to label dread. "You'd never believed I stumbled upon three of them by mistake," he mumbles, sounding exhausted. 

"It's more likely than most would assume, though perhaps not in that quantity," Eruhaben admits without reluctance. The only trial nearby the area of the Henituse territory that'd be necessary to acquire with intention is, perhaps, the Vitality of the Heart. That power, at the least, is not claiming space on Cale's overfull plate. What is, instead, is a power Eruhaben is mostly unfamiliar with, having never met its previous bearer: the Annual Rings of Life. 

It seems... incomplete. Yet again, Cale has laid out an anomaly for Eruhaben to pick apart. 

And yet, Eruhaben will likely be short on time if he does not set this child on a rather unbearable task. "Your plate is unbalanced, child. Overfull on power, so to speak." He hesitates to continue, glancing at the child still hovering, now looking bored. 

"Raon," Cale calls gently, something fragile in his voice like he knows what Eruhaben is about to say. "I think you should go and see if there's any tea left, yes? You said you liked it the last time Hans made some." 

Raon goes to protest, pouting at Cale and then at Eruhaben, but Eruhaben murmurs into his mind, I'm telling your weak human a secret. If you stay, he'll be upset to share the knowledge, so have some tea and then return. 

Raon pouts harder, but obliges, mussing Cale's hair with a brief perch before flying away, telepathically replying to Eruhaben with, You better tell me a cool secret, too, Goldie Gramps!

He's gone before Eruhaben can reply, probably in a hurry to drink some tea and return. Eruhaben decides to make this quick. "It's frankly a miracle you've lived this long, child. A human body isn't built to withstand more than one power; the clashing attributes would normally overstress the body and cause immediate implosion."

Cale's face drains of color. "O—more than one?" he repeats, and Eruhaben really does feel a pang of sympathy. Having quadruple that amount must be fearful. Eruhaben has lived too long to dread death, but this being is barely a toddler compared to the life Eruhaben has lived. It must feel... unfair. And then the young human begins to gnaw at his nails, cursing under his breath. It's about the same as normal speaking to Eruhaben's advanced senses. "That damn Glutton said two! I've been freaking out all this time when she set me up from the start!?"

A glutton? Eruhaben wonders which power could have a previous owner with such a name. "Child. Your death is not inevitable." 

The boy pauses, head jerking up in shock and budding hope as he processes that. "H-how?" 

"Well, you haven't perished yet," Eruhaben comments amusedly, before sobering. "The risk of implosion is due to the elemental imbalance on your plate. You possess both wood and wind attributes, but to balance the elements, you must acquire water-, fire-, and earth-attributed Ancient Powers."

His expression falls immediately after. "Eruhaben-nim, I don't... I don't have a way to acquire three Ancient Powers in any sort of haste. Is there really no other way?" 

Eruhaben doesn't, for the first time in a long, long time, know what to say. Part of him wishes to soothe the child. The grasp of Death around him, which he initially attributed to the boy's impending doom, is now easy to distinguish as a nurturing touch; that hold is, if Eruhaben must guess, the only thing keeping Cale's plate together. What is clear is that this child holds Death's favor. 

Perhaps that is what makes him so unfortunate as to stumble upon an excess of power which will kill him. 

"I can help you only minorly here, child," Eruhaben settles on. If the gods decide to trust this boy, Eruhaben does not find himself above aiding such an existence. He'd be wrong, as well, to let a pure-hearted youngling perish by his own foolishness. He turns, collecting the artifact that was no doubt stirring the Sound of the Wind. "The water you possess in that pouch of yours was acquired from the Ubarr territory, yes?" 

Cale pauses, eyes settling on the Absorbing Necklace now draped in Eruhaben's hands. "...Yes, it was. In an underwater cave. I'd used some of it to clean a Whale Tribe member's injuries, but Thief insisted I gather more." 

"For good reason," Eruhaben agrees, nodding. That power seems to have a keen sense for other powerful things. "It is a water with the power to quench any flame, also possessing the water attribute. Contain it in this artifact and wear the necklace at all times; it will, at least temporarily, soothe your plate's ache for water. I leave you then to find a fire and earth attribute." 

"I'll still die," Cale denies reluctantly, not yet accepting the offered artifact. "There's no point in passing your treasures to someone who has little time left. How long will my plate even last before it fractures completely?" 

"As it stands," Eruhaben says, grabbing the boy's hand and pressing the Absorbing Necklace into it insistently. He will not enter Death's embrace in poor graces after allowing His favored to die. "You have perhaps a year. With this to further balance you, you will have longer, though I cannot give an exact amount." 

How fickle, this boy is, for hope again lifts his shoulders and his gaze. He tucks the Absorbing Necklace close to his chest. "I... I can't begin to voice my debt to you, Eruhaben-nim," he murmurs, looking dizzy. "Thank—thank you." 

Eruhaben hums, considering, then lifts a hand. Glittering dust forms a small ring that lands silently in his palm. He passes this, too, to Cale. "Keep this on you always. If it is destroyed, I will come to you; use it only if you are in a dire situation or if the youngling enters his first growth phase. I already explained to you how that can go unattended." 

"Urgh!" said youngling interrupts, flying back into the room with tea stains under his nose. "That's what you guys were talking about this whole time! I told you already, the great and mighty Raon will conquer the growth phases without trouble! There's no need for attending!" 

"Of course, Raon," Cale agrees with an indulgent look, free of the tension that had lined his every move without Eruhaben's notice. It is undeniably soft. "This weak human simply worries." 

Perhaps this unusual pair isn't the worst who could have come upon his lair; and, fortunately, Eruhaben will not have to extend his stay here for their sake. 

In an unusually good mood, Eruhaben warms the air just slightly for the pair's descent down the mountain. That Cale Henituse looks pale and fragile enough as is.

Hoik Village is a very quick way for the elation Cale has been riding high on to dampen. The news that his lifespan has been extended over a year even paired with the official business partnership he'd established upon encountering Billos isn't enough for him to ignore the grief and deadened spirits that weigh the air down in this place. The fact that their version of a garden appears to be gravestones peppering every stretch of grass not occupied by shabby inns or run-down houses certainly doesn't help. 

Choi Han seems especially somber looking the place over, eyes lingering sympathetically on the black-clad women with hung heads and children clutched in hand. Almost all the families of the travelers lost to the Path of No Return visit or reside here, in some vain hope their loved one will be the exception to emerge from the fog. 

Cale thinks it's foolish, cruelly enough. Most of them had gone in chasing a miracle, some rumored wish-granting dragon hidden in that fog. And for what? Even if they could brave the endless passage for a desperate hope, what could they offer that a dragon would want? Even if they were granted their wish, why would they be the first of every helpless traveler to be able to return?

It's better to think pragmatically about this sort of thing, Cale presumes. He's half-tempted to go along with Captain's musings to simply let the Oorim forest burn down as it had in the past-future. That'd been an easy enough way to end the Path of No Return's reign of terror on the region. It'd provided some closure, Cale supposes, to all these waiting fools in Hoik Village. 

But yet, Captain had said himself that despite the inconvenience, Cale needs to go in and fetch Litana before he puts out the Jungle fire. If Eruhaben's words about the water in the Absorbing Necklace are any clue, he'll probably need to use his whole life-saving supply up. Still, it will mark the Jungle firmly down as Cale's ally and theMogoru Empire's enemy, hopefully prevent useless war between Whipper and the Jungle, and prevent damage and loss of both human and natural resources from the Jungle that will end up critical to the war effort.

In short: Cale has to enter the Path of No Return. 

"I'm not joking," he tells Ohn for perhaps the hundredth time. 

"You're not going," she stubbornly insists. "Choi Han will go crazy if you die! He'll walk around with his head hung and holding Hong's hand like all those sad widows we passed!" 

Cale sighs, opening his arms for Ohn and Hong to scramble into, both clinging to his shirt without reservation. He supposes he's long past clinging to the ruse of employment. For gods' sakes, he hadn't even written them up a contract. It'd been hopeless from the start. He combs a hand through Ohn's hair in a way he hopes is soothing. "I won't be gone long, Ohn. I'll make my way back." 

"That's what all those stupid travelers said!" Hong pipes up, feeding off his sister's irritation to instead become teary. Cale curses himself for the way it makes his weak heart falter. "You're not stupid, Cale-nya, so you can't be like them!" Hong tucks himself farther into Cale's side, wiping his teary face on Cale's expensive top. All three of them are perhaps beyond the point of caring, because Ohn doesn't even move to scold her brother and Cale doesn't blink twice. 

"Shh," he hushes instead, rubbing the boy's back. "Why don't you two trust me? I don't break my promises." 

Ohn looks away, the anger on her face finally breaking into tears as she bites her bottom lip. "But... but what if you're lying? Cale-nya, you're... you're the only person who's taken care of us since..." 

Her voice stoppers and breaks. Cale pulls her in close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head in the same way Captain had soothed Lily. He wonders when he'd learned to do such a thing without thinking. "I don't lie to my family, Ohn. I save that for everybody else." 

You're shameless, Captain scolds. Don't steal my words without thinking.

I'm learning from the best.

Litana isn't certain how long they've been in this damned forest, but she's sure it's been around two weeks in which no results have been yielded in finding a way to suppress the fire in the Jungle, or even discern the cause of the unending flames. 

She wants to tear her hair out. Ten purrs, rubbing his big schnozz against her hands soothingly. She laughs softly, petting him as demanded. "Thanks, Ten," she murmurs, before glancing out to her subordinates. Food isn't scarce, but it's not easy to find. Being on the move constantly bodes no good for retracing their steps home. "It's not looking great for us, huh?" 

Litana swears by her protection of nature and the weak; she'd harm herself before she allowed harm to come to a single leaf around her. And yet... she rules the Jungle in its entirety. How can she remain here, stranded in Oorim, while her people burn? 

An awful thought begins to take root. Chopping their way out would take too long, and Litana fears that each hack against wood would damage her soul to watch. She wouldn't make it out of here in one piece. If the situation begins to look more dire, if food becomes too scarce and time stretches on too long... 

Litana is not above causing one fire to end another. Not when her peoples' livelihoods are at stake. Not when the solution could be out there, waiting to be discovered, while she idles in this gods-beloathed forest hoping a solution will come to her. 

Little does she know, the solution meanders through the brush nary moments later, a trail of bright string following behind him. She can't see the man's face, his whole upper half obscured by green, but the children are hip-height to him and perfectly visible. "Cale-nya!" a young, red-headed child calls the man, pointing to one of Litana's subordinates. "We found them! See, I toldja we were useful!" 

The man—Cale?—sighs, patting the boys head. "Yes, I'm very grateful. I would've been infinitely more so if you'd have stayed in bed. Raon will worry if he wakes alone." 

"Raon is very brave," the silver-haired girl holding the man's hand defends. "If he's really worried, he'll be able to find us himself!" 

The man pales at the thought. "Please don't encourage that, Ohn. Value yourself above all," he insists.

The girl pouts, tugging Cale's hand. "I value Hong. And Raon. And you! I love you all more than anything!" 

"Oh?" Cale presses with a teasing note in his voice, still unseen by Litana's lingering subordinates. If she weren't significantly closer as she is, she might have the mind to scold them for the unawareness. "I suppose that means you don't love Lily or Basen. Oh, this is a tragedy. I'll have to inform them once we return."

The red-headed boy gasps, ducking from under Cale's hand to defend his sister(?) "That's not true! My noona loves them too! And so do I! I love all of you!" 

"Shh," Cale hushes, crouching to the children's level with a gentle smile. His appearance, besides a slight bit more of his clothes, are annoyingly obscured by the night shadows. "I'm just teasing you both, it's alright. I know you love them. All I'm trying to say is that you should enjoy being children and not worry about protecting others. Even when you become an adult, value your own safety and health. You won't be able to protect people otherwise." 

"Then why do you—?" the redhead begins to ask, but the bright glint of Cale's eyes land on Litana's through the underbrush and he quiets the boy immediately, retreating out of her range of sight completely. Her ears are still too sharp to miss the gentle trodding of feet on greenery, or the young man's urging for both children to grab his hands again. 

Content with her show and deciding to actually investigate the new arrival, Litana lightly pushes Ten off of herself and gets to her feet. The movement draws her subordinates' attention, and she walks to the clearing they're setting up to occupy for the night. "It seems we have a fellow traveler to greet," she says, voice loud and carrying through the humid air. "You're welcome here, young man, should you reveal yourself unarmed." 

Perhaps the last thing she expects to see is a delicate-looking young man with red hair as bright as freshly-spilled blood to emerge, his hands in the air peaceably. His gait, even unsteady atop the forestry, exudes nobility. His grace is almost admirable, if a bit devalued by his appearance of looking vulnerable to collapse with a strong wind. 

Litana feels a burst of pity emerge from her. This man, guiding two children who are more than likely his own, has led himself to his doom. "Young man, there is no wish-granting dragon here," she reveals gently. "If that string does you any good, it's best to return to Hoik quickly." 

He ducks his head, perhaps his best imitation of a bow with two children still in his grasp. "Queen Litana of the Jungle, it's my deepest honor to meet you. I am Cale Henituse. I haven't come for a wish-granting dragon." 

She can't help cocking her head, a bit surprised at being recognized. 'Henituse' isn't a name that's familiar to her—no doubt a small barony or county that's far from attracting her attention all the way from the forest. What business could he possibly have here, with her? And really, that thought reminds her of the boy's initial exclamation—he'd said they had 'found them'. Litana's warriors. As though... as though they were searching for her specifically. 

Her gaze hardens and Litana refrains from thumbing for her scythe only because of the children. "You've come for me. Why?" 

The air shifts as the warriors behind Litana tense at her wary words. Cale doesn't twitch, gaze uncannily even. "You were lost, and needed to be found."

"And who informed you of this?" This expedition was secret. Barely anyone in the Jungle is aware that Litana is gone, every sector under the impression she is in another. 

Cale smiles mysteriously, amusement dancing in his eyes at her suspicion. She dares to wonder why he looks at her like he knows something she does not. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. People happen upon information in all sorts of interesting ways." He glances up, just for a flickering second, something like wonderance in that gaze. Litana wonders if he looks to the treetops or to the gods she finds herself struggling to believe in. 

"Isn't it your eyes, Cale-nya?" the boy prods innocently, tugging at Cale's hand. 

Cale's gaze snaps down, expression wary and fragile. "...Hong?" 

"Mr. Gramps said your eyes let you see stuff the rest of us can't see, but not like night vision. Is that it?" 

Litana can see Cale's measured inhale-exhale before he replies with a question. "Who is Mr. Gramps, Hong?" The 'who the fuck is feeding you this crap' is clear, the universal tone of an annoyed parent handling an out-of-hand uncle or family friend. The scene almost makes Litana forget her wariness.

"He means Mr. Ron," Ohn, Litana thinks the girl's name was, fills in when Hong just cocks his head. 

Cale sighs, shoulders dropping and hand leaving Hong's to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Don't... don't listen to Mr. Gramps, alright? He doesn't know what he's talking about. Old age has made him senile." 

Ohn snickers, but Litana doesn't miss the way she watches the shifting warriors out of the corner of her eyes. She'd felt, initially, that Cale's tenderness with the children ruined his intimidation factor, but perhaps these children are threats in their own right. Even above her wariness, Litana can respect Cale's desire for his children to be capable of protecting themselves. 

And still, Cale's reaction to Hong's comment about his eyes—ringed with unusual, somewhat unsettling pigment in a brown richer than the rest of his iris—makes her feel as though the child's assessment holds some truth. Paired with the way the man looked up to the sky, as though for intervention...

Litana is by no means a religious woman, but the potential path home has literally walked up to her. She isn't above assuming such a presence, delicate and unusual against the backdrop of the harsh forest, is a saint sent to guide her. 

"Why do you seek me, Cale Henituse?" Litana asks, tension drained from her in favor of amusement. "It's not often that people enter Oorim on a whim."

Cale shakes his head. "Of course not, Your Majesty. I believe I have the solution to the fire in the Jungle." 

And, well, Litana is still not a religious woman, but she is incredibly willing to believe that this miracle of a man is her personal saint. 

The young master has brought them to the Jungle. 

Rosalyn is never one to turn down an adventure, see. It's why she'd joined Choi Han while he was returning the his young master. Perhaps a more fickle reason than poor Lock, seeking the only companionship he has in the wake of his village's massacre, but a reason that keeps her loyal to all of Cale's unusual whims. 

See, as the princess of Breck, Rosalyn had been expected to know certain things. Nobility of her own nation, certainly, but also notable nobles and royals of the neighboring kingdoms. It's by this process, of course, that she had originally learned of Cale Henituse. He was originally noted in her studies as a warning: she wasn't to interact with this man if she ever visited Roan on a diplomatic circumstance, for fear of causing a scandal. Not because Cale Henituse was particularly promiscuous, nor was Rosalyn, but he was simply whole-heartedly offensive to all and any he encountered.

It was with this knowledge in her mind that Rosalyn went to the capitol of Roan Kingdom with Choi Han and Lock, expecting perhaps anything except what she saw. 

That being, of course, the young master jumping off the belltower, protecting the entire square with an Ancient Power, and then coughing out blood before collapsing into unconsciousness for half a week.

An eventful incidence for one afternoon, Rosalyn must say. 

Admittedly, this enigma of a man intrigued her. Along with her complete lack of desire to stay in Breck, it was because of this fact that Rosalyn agreed to continue following Choi Han. Not only was Cale more multi-faced than any grand actor Rosalyn has ever encountered, but he seems to tirelessly collect absurd powers Rosalyn couldn't begin to dream of accumulating for herself. He'd dragged them to the Forest of Darkness, the Whipper Kingdom and its magic tower (which Rosalyn had deeply appreciated the purchase thus preservation of) even amidst civil war, and now the village on the edge of the Path of No Return. 

After all that, Cale Henituse marched them on their merry way to the Jungle with the Queen of the unified 15 sectors in toe, both of them tight-lipped on the purpose of their visit. 

Queen Litana, however, was not very tight-lipped otherwise. She spent about half their travel praising the forest, about an eighth praising Cale's benevolence in leading her troupe out of Oorim, and the rest impressing upon Rosalyn and Choi Han the need to protect the weak, especially the weak with red hair that are close to them and incredibly ambitious despite their fragility. 

Rosalyn has learned that Queen Litana is also deeply lacking in the department of politic-tongued subtlety. 

It's only when they come upon the brightly-dancing flames that Litana sobers, going quiet with solemnity. "The Jungle... is beautiful in the dark." 

Rosalyn can only watch the other woman sympathetically. She can't imagine what it must be like, to have to watch her homeland burn without cease. Imagining Breck in such a state is enough to leave Rosalyn aching; to have a home so sensitive to flame lit unendingly night after night... is unimaginable. Litana turns to her, a sad smile on her face. "I hope you will see it in its true glory soon." 

Cale stops his horse, already neighing nervously at the encroaching flames, and dismounts with a sigh. He turns to his entourage, interspersed between Litana's own subordinates. 

"Stay here," he orders with the voice of a seasoned commander, eyes hazy and distant in that way Choi Han told Rosalyn Cale's eyes sometimes go. Rosalyn wonders, as she does every time the topic arises, what he's seeing. 

The fabric of the world, someone had said to her, though she can't put a name on who. As though he's peering through it and correcting maladies. 

The children Cale swears up and down are servants bristle from atop the horse they've been left on, already going to protest. Cale's eyes flick to Choi Han. "Choi Han. Make sure they don't follow me." His eyes return to the children, gaze hard. "I'm serious. All of you." The phrasing is clunky, 'all' unnatural to describe merely two children, but the young master already seems disoriented. It's hardly Rosalyn's place to comment. 

And with that simple order as farewell, this stiff-shouldered abstraction of Cale turns away, marching towards the flames. Closer, closer, Rosalyn wonders what he plans to do. Is his purpose here to try and put them out, despite the fact that the Queen herself has exhausted every conceivable method with no success?

And then that necklace he's taken to wearing, gaudy but always tucked under his clothes, rises into the air and glows. Cale steps into the fire, but nothing on him catches alight as he raises his hands, wind billowing around him to form what Rosalyn can only describe as a protective bubble. The necklace bursts with water, rushing outwards and carried on the torrential winds Cale sends exploding around him, in all directions. What appears to be a light mist extinguishes every stretch of fire it touches without so much as a lingering flicker, the plague of the Jungle erased with the simple flick of the young master's wrist. 

Rosalyn can't help her gaping, and a simple glance finds it echoed on nearly every face around her. Well, with the exception of the children still atop Cale's settling horse and Choi Han beside her. 

Rosalyn can't help but scoff to herself, meeting Choi Han's eyes. "You really were correct about what kind of person Young Master Cale is, Choi Han. I find it hard to believe the rumors ever existed to describe this man." 

"He insists they're all true," Choi Han grumbles, clearly an aged annoyance. "Still, I hope he never changes. Cale-nim is a good person." 

Rosalyn watches the red-headed man re-emerge from the rescued Jungle with all the nonchalance with which he'd entered it, if looking a bit worse for wear. Er... a lot worse for wear. His eyes are a different kind of hazy, and each step he takes wobbles and hesitates. He has a hand pressed to his mouth as though to suppress a cough or vomit. 

The children look to each other hesitantly and then Choi Han, eyes already big and pleading, but Choi Han has long since hopped off his mount to rush to Cale's side. The pair hobbles closer slowly, Cale seeming to lean more heavily on Choi Han with every dragging step. His trembling free hand, the other slung over Choi Han's shoulders, clings tightly to that necklace from which that miraculous spray emerged.

Rosalyn takes her cue for what it is upon meeting Choi Han's pleading gaze, already unmounting with raised hands glowing red. "Young Master," she calls, stepping hurriedly closer to meet them in the middle. "Where are you hurting? I'll see if I can't at least soothe the pain." Hopefully her healing spells are worth more than that, but it's the only lieu of a promise she can offer with certainty. 

After all, nothing she'd tried in the capitol had borne fruit; why would this be any different?

As though reading her thoughts, Cale shakes his head, dizzy eyes sliding shut. "Don't... haah. Don't waste your e-energy. It's..." A hacking cough interrupts him, and Cale leans impossibly deeper into Choi Han with an exhausted, shaky breath when the fit ends. The hand he covered his mouth with drops to his side, hidden palm sticky with blood. 

Rosalyn frowns, recognizing the same symptoms that were exhibited in the capitol, and magicks away the bloodstain with a sigh, coming to Cale's other side to help Choi Han lift him along. At the least, she can be grateful he's still conscious. "Please hold on a little longer, Cale," she murmurs, low enough to be only for him. She doesn't bother with titles, either, at a time like this. She's aware enough of Cale to know he won't take the informality as a slight. "We'll settle comfortably and rest for a while in the Jungle. Queen Litana has already made it clear she's happy to provide."

'Rest for a while', hah. As though Captain would ever leave Cale alone long enough to accomplish that. Not only did that crazy bastard insist they travel directly to the shoreline and take a ship home, but he forced Cale to listen to thief's whining and dig around like a crazy person in the ash and dirt until he found a sealed box holding an ungodly amount of highest-grade mana stones.

The Mogoru Empire's work, Captain had explained wryly, and Cale rolls his eyes. He's not stupid enough to need to be told, especially not after all that mumbling Captain did about the cursed Empire and what a two-faced bastard that Adin guy was.

Cale tries to tune out his continued grumbling. Captain is such an old guy sometimes, complaining about the same thing on an endless loop. Cale only grants him the courtesy of not snapping to shut up because the background noise is good for keeping his own creeping thoughts at bay. 

Cale sighs, a shudder passing through him. "Are you cold, Cale-nim?" Choi Han asks almost instantaneously, fretting as a mother hen since Cale put that damned fire out. Granted, he wasn't in fantastic condition, but it's not like he's done something drastic to encourage this affectionate behavior. It's a little worrisome to Cale that Choi Han attaches to people this quickly. Or is it something like a baby duckling imprinting on a parental figure? That'd make more sense. 

"I'm fine, Choi Han." Just thinking about his impending doom now that his water attribute supply is significantly decreased, but oh well! What's one to do about unpredictable implosion? Call a dragon? Except, oh, the dragon can't fix it either! 

Cale digs his fingernails into his palm hard enough to draw blood, and releases the grip as soon as he realizes. He's let his nails grow out; he'll need to have them trimmed. 

Ron always used to remind him of these things. He'll be gone for a long while yet, on his year's leave. Will Cale survive long enough to see him again?

He silences the thought. Get it together, Henituse. You're better than this. Despite that, a sharp ache in his chest like a slow cracking of his ribs starts to throb. He raises a hand to massage the area lightly, remind himself that there's no real damage there, and he's careful not to smear blood along with it. "Is your chest hurting, Cale-nim?" 

"I'm fine, Choi Han," Cale replies rotely, this time the words coming out more as a sigh. He misses Ten already, the beast too quick even for Choi Han to keep up and talk at the same time. Scritching him behind the ear in the way all the kids like and hearing his content purr was soothing. "Stop worrying so much. Think more of yourself. You've been busy." 

They haven't had many tasks assigned to them, really, but as Cale's only guard for their stay here (Raon's presence notwithstanding, because Cale insists that the youngest child under his care rests well), Choi Han has barely let himself sleep a wink. The thought irritates Cale slightly. Choi Han likely won't feel well sleeping on the ship that's coming to retrieve them, either. "Rest a bit now, Choi Han. I won't keel over while you sleep." 

"Cale-nim," Choi Han pleads, eyes puppy-like. "I'm not tired. I want to keep watch over you." 

Cale raises a brow, glancing over the boy's shoulder. "Are you saying you distrust Miss Rosalyn and Lock?" 

Choi Han startles, eyes innocently wide as he shakes his head. "Not at all! But... I—"

"Then hush," Cale cuts him off, poking Choi Han in the forehead in the way he used to tease Basen. Cale's little brother always got too nervous, though, so Cale stopped. "Get some rest before we leave. That's an order." 

Choi Han slumps like Cale had fired him on the spot, but obligingly trudges off to find a shady place to lay. The sunlight, here where the trees don't shield them as fully, is no joke. 

Rosalyn comes drifting over almost as soon as Choi Han has settled, drawing Cale's gaze away from the corner he'd been watching his unofficial bodyguard rest in. Lock, of course, is barely two steps behind her. He seems to look up to the princess as an older sister; it's sweet to see. "Young Master," she greets gracefully, sending a curious look Choi Han's way. "You've sent poor Choi Han off to sleep?" 

"He had no reason to run himself ragged," Cale remarks with another sigh, waving a hand dismissively. "And there's no chance he'll sleep well on the ship."

Rosalyn's smile seems genuine when it affixes itself on her face. "I'm glad he has you to look after him, young master. He tends to get excitable at times the opportunity to help arises."

Cale's gaze drifts back to the figure cloaked in black. Choi Han is a unique person, he thinks. Unconsciously, his lips twitch into a smile. "He's kind to an idiotic extent," he huffs, "and yet I don't find myself daring to ruin that naivety." His gaze drops to the earth and soot at his feet. "I suppose that makes me a bad employer, to allow my sword to remain unaware of the world's violence."

"I don't think he's unaware of it," Lock interrupts, his gaze distant and not quite fixed on anything. "It seems like he finds it easier to ignore around you." 

Cale bites the inside of his cheek. This Choi Han, even though his sword has tasted blood and his past was endless violence, has not experienced the devastation of the Choi Han Captain described. The complete ravaging of home, displacing him from any sense of safety and tearing him away from the meager shreds of family he'd created in a world he could barely call his own. 

To say any of that would, of course, make him sound crazy, and without a doubt insensitive to this Wolf Tribe boy who has lost everything in a very similar way. 

Cale just laments that he had been too late in sending Choi Han for anything to change for Lock. It's a simple miracle the boy survived at all. He watches Lock's face as his mouth opens and closes, eyes cloudy and posture tense with hesitation. "Lock," Cale calls gently, trying to recall which tone Raon responds best to after troubled nights, "what's on your mind?" 

A brief silence lingers heavily in the air.

"The—" Lock starts haltingly, swallowing and letting his eyes drop to his feet. "The children. When—when the people in black came, there was one who... he gathered the kids, rounded them up like cattle, and said something about..." He clutches his head, voice teary. "I-I don't remember what he said. But he didn't kill them there and then, any of the ten of them, and I can't stop thinking about how they might still be alive somewhere, probably tortured, while I..." 

Cale blinks, having hardly expected such a fixable worry to be plaguing Lock. You don't even have to tell me 'reduced human cost' this time, he thinks to Captain. I'm perfectly willing to do this just for this poor kid's sake. He'd already felt terrible for not being able to save at least some of the Wolf Tribe, and Cale is man enough to admit that he cares more about protecting kids than protect any random he might come across. Children deserve to grow up well without carrying the burdens of adults. 

If there are kids of the Wolf Tribe in Arm's custody... 

Cale doesn't want to imagine how they're being treated. 

He reaches out, telegraphing his movements, and places his hand on Lock's head. The boy looks up, startled. Cale sends him a small smile. "Thank you, Lock. For trusting me with that." He won't make any promises to Lock; under Arm, the likelihood that all—any—of the kidnapped children survived is uncertain. 

Still, though, he resolves to try. They'll be out of the Jungle soon enough; Cale can see the Henituse crest hailing them as a ship emerges in the distance, as luxurious as everything that bears his family name. A bright figure of orange sticks out on the crow's nest; Cale can almost make out Kitsi waving her hello. It brings a slight smile to his face. 

A year is plenty of time, right?

The underworld that spans across both continents can best be described as 'overconnected'. Sejilu, in the Henituse district, was good friends with a woman named Borna from that same region before becoming contracted to the territory's young master. Getting in contact with Borna was of little difficulty. Borna, of course, has quite a few acquaintances in and across the kingdom; the most pertinent connection being her old friend Sanna, who lives currently in the Wheelsman territory. 

Getting in contact with Sanna was better done with Nedas at Borna's side and a heaping of reward money. After that, she's significantly more amenable to putting them in contact with Shigo, in the Ubarr territory, a Roan immigrant from the Mogoru Empire. When he came over, of course, he stayed in contact with a fellow rum-runner who'd seen him through some dark days, currently living in the capitol: Behahraz, though she's known to her colleagues as just 'Raz'. 

Kitsi slings the stocky girl a grin, leaning her beer forward to click against the rim of the other's mug, already half-empty. "You left any friends behind in the Empire?" 

Raz watches Kitsi lazily out of the corner of her eye. "Who's askin'?" 

"Cale Henituse," Kitsi answers easily, leaning onto her fists, propped up onto the table. Her eyes droop half-lidded, taunting or maybe inviting. Her young master gave her full permission, of course, to throw his name around if needed, and this Raz seems particularly tight-lipped without much incentive. It's not as though Kitsi has any personal bond with her to capitalize on, after all. "You heard that name before?" 

The question is purposeless, of course, because Raz's eyes have already gone wide with recognition. "Haah..." she huffs. "Young Master Shield, dipping his hand in with criminals? I'm not sure how willing I am to believe that." 

Kitsi shrugs, relaxing as she leans away. "Before he was Young Master Shield, he was the Trash of the Henituse family. Believe what you want, but I have my orders and I have funds. All I want is a contact." 

"Hmm," Raz hums. "My brother still hasn't left that shithole behind." She digs out a scrap of paper in her pocket, some now-useless missive, and scribbles an address on its blank back. "Write to this address, and tell Raj that Raz put you in contact. If money comes with your next letter, I'm sure he'll be willing to listen."

And so, the dutiful servant she is, Kitsi retreats with the address and a foxy grin to report back to her master. Cale gives her a whole week's leave as thanks, but she rolls her eyes and declines. "You sent me on this goose chase, young master. Respectfully, I'd like to see it through."

Perhaps she should've spoken more carefully, because Kitsi ends up taking an even longer 'vacation' as a guise for yet more business meetings. The letters exchanged with 'Raj' (later identified as Kuraj, by intelligence services her young master possesses that Kitsi dares not investigate for herself) increase in frequency, and Kitsi becomes the head of correspondence and recruitment. 

Running herself ragged across the continent apparently qualifies her for interpersonal activities, and so Kitsi begrudgingly inducts more and more willing criminals to what Kitsi is beginning to suspect is a developing spy network. 

She doesn't fault them for their willingness, despite her own poor marketing skills; the job pays well, it's steady, and all that's really asked of them is performing various odd tasks or keeping an ear open and sending in reports. It's the dream job for anyone who's been desperate enough to turn to the lifestyle that leaves them in these seedy places. 

Apparently, Kitsi does such a good job as a recruiter that her tasks are even being delegated! Correspondence with Raj is no longer her problem. She doesn't care to find out what poor sod is being forced to interact with that miserable man, but she's glad she doesn't have to worry about keeping up with it anymore. Her schedule is busy enough trying to connect informants in the Stan territory to the fucking Capitol City of Breck. 

Yeah. Breck. The neighboring kingdom. 

Has Kitsi mentioned that she's running herself ragged across the continent? Cale apparently wasn't satisfied with being better-informed than any bastard in the Roan Kingdom, probably more so the King himself, but decided that he'd gather puppets across the entire continent. 

She only begins to glimpse his motivations while she's hanging around a bar in the North, catching herself up on the gossip by leaning in close to the loudest drunkards. An alliance is forming, they boast, and it'll be strong enough to crush the southern kingdoms which are completely unprepared for a frontal attack. 

Hah... This man, who'll do anything for his family, no doubt somehow heard these whispers himself and took personal offense to the idea of the Shield of Roan, said family, being harmed so back-handedly. Maybe Kitsi's the fool for not having predicted something like this.

It's nicer, however, that Kitsi is assigned an 'assistant' after she sends in a report of how goddamn stubborn the nightlife of the North is. It's Shigo, who she'd heard from Nedas is an easy-going man who's pleasant to work with. Blessedly, Nedas didn't seem to be wrong. Shigo is a little slow on the uptake, not as deft at picking things up through observation without directions, but Kitsi is coming to suspect that it has to do with whatever blow to the head had caused that nasty scar crawling down from his temple. 

Despite this, he's a decent partner and helpful where he can be. He's also much more personable, and not half-bad at putting up the front of incapability to gain the trust of potential recruits. Cale even notices her increased productivity and congratulates her, though he just offers a knowing smile instead of an offer for vacation. 

"As I'm sure you've noticed, I've taken over your correspondence with Raj," he reveals, and Kitsi almost lets her surprise show on her face. That bastard is so finnicky, she wouldn't have imagined the young master wanting to deal with him. But upon further thought, Kitsi knows Cale has a silver tongue unlike anything she's used to seeing. It'd make sense if that'd be enough to soothe Raj's temper. "But you'll be visiting him and his companion in the Mogoru Empire." 

Ah, Kitsi probably should've assumed as much. Everything was getting too easy for her. 

"The other one goes by Dot." Cale's knowing smile twitches down into a frown, then. "I can't get anything more than that on them, and it seems they don't spend much time with Kuraj in person." 

A mystery collaborator, yay. "So why am I meeting them?" 

"Well," and there the smile makes its return, "I've got a few loose ends to tie lying around in the Empire. I just... need you to pick up a few things." 

Okay, Kitsi things, deflating a bit with relief, just another odd job.

It was not a fucking little task, and somehow Kitsi has become responsible for ten traumatized wolf children, the breaking and entering of an imperial palace, and the possession of documents that will definitely get her executed immediately if they realize she's the one who has them. 

Just another day in the life of serving that madman Henituse, Kitsi supposes, scoffing to herself. Mechiel flinches, hand still held in Kitsi's, and Kitsi feels herself tense. Even after a week of looking after these kids, she hasn't gotten any better at being... sensitive, or soft, or whatever other thing an adult is supposed to be when they're made responsible for such fragile life. She takes a silent inhale and leaves her grip purposefully loose, glancing down at the kid with a half smile. "All good?" 

"I-I'm fine," the boy stutters nervously. "Are... are you okay?" 

Kitsi can't help but pity the brat, who was clearly conditioned in his time as a human experiment to watch his captors' moods carefully. He's ten, as far as Kitsi remembers. That's not near old enough to be keeping an ear out constantly like he's learned to. Still, she pastes on a fuller smile, trying to project amusement instead of how actually beleaguered she feels. "Just thinking about how annoying my boss is."

"He's the one who sent you to... to find us, right?" Maes, one of the sturdier children, pipes up. "What's he like?" 

Grateful for the transition to safer topics, Kitsi easily indulges the boy's curiosity. "Well, he's a secretive bastard. He didn't tell me I was looking for you kids until I was already in the Empire, for one." 

Roos, the littlest girl of the group, gasps. "Really? Not 'til that late? Isn't your home real far from here?" 

"Mhm," Kitsi confirms with a nod. "Real far. And he really only told me that much 'cause I had to keep a few friends who helped me updated." 

"Oh, Raj! Raj and Dot, right?" 

Kitsi pats the girl on the head. She's clever for her age. "That's right. And that nasty coot that was in charge—my boss gave me a full run-down of him the day before I was supposed to barge in to get you all." She's sure bringing up the prison and that crazy mage isn't her best choice ever, but none of the kids seem to cower openly at the mere mention. It probably helps that Kitsi has been steadily acclimating them to talking shit about their former torturers instead of fearfully avoiding their names.

Iemke, Roos's older sister, huffs. "That's crazy. You totally acted like you knew way in advance." 

"Aw, that's sweet of ya," Kitsi coos, reaching over to muss Iemke's hair. "But it's more that my young master is real thorough when he delivers information. It's the only reason I let it slide that he's less than prompt." 

"But didn't ya say you're bound to him for life?" Gudo, the little shit, prods. "I don't think that means you pick what to let slide."

Kitsi huffs and rolls her eyes, bearing the boy's snark. It's better than the sniveling thing he'd been when she first saw him. "Alright, alright. He's not a tyrant. He sent me to get you kids outta the goodness of his heart, right?" 

Gudo snickers. "I remember you sayin' he didn't have 'a drop o' goodness in his rotten-bastard heart'." 

Kitsi scowls, tugging the kid lightly by the ear. "And you're turnin' out just as rotten, you little brat, don't gimme that crap," she scolds. Gudo just giggles, dancing away from her tugging. It brings a smile to Kitsi's scarred face to see his light ease spread through the rest of the kids, sprawled across their safehouse waiting for Kitsi to scrounge up another meal from the admittedly overstocked rations that were waiting for them at the rendezvous point. 

This, if nothing else, convinced Kitsi that Cale already has an inside man in the Mogoru Empire. She's damn certain of the fact that Raj would've been a lot more sparse in providing them rations were he made responsible for it. 

As she always has, Kitsi isn't going to question him. Cale's methods aren't any of her concern, and now her curiosity's been sated about his interest in the Empire; that Lock kid is Choi Han's friend, and Cale seems to have some crazy soft spot going for kids and Choi Han. It's no surprise he'd send them all scurrying around to get the poor wolf boy a little bit of his massacred family back. 

Kitsi wonders again why that crazy mage was experimenting on Wolf Tribe kids. Why his crazy organization with the uniform Cale always scowls viciously at killed the Wolf Tribe in the first place. Hopefully, the documents she'd gone through such pains to collect have some clue, but Kitsi doesn't dare look through them. Cale told her explicitly not to, perhaps worried that her knowing that information would make her an even more desirable target for kidnapping. 

And just like the documents aren't her business, most of this is really more than she should be looking into. She gets paid, keeps her job, and stays safe if she just carries out her orders. Maybe she's willing to do a little bit crazier shit for the Executioner now, after seeing the way he dapples every space he enters with sunlight and hope, but Kitsi's always had a few screws loose. This probably isn't the worst she'll ever end up doing on Cale's behalf, and she's even graciously being provided shelter until their pickup comes to the port to bring Kitsi and the kids back to Roan.

"Unnie?" Rashi calls, tugging on the bottom of Kitsi's tunic. "Why did your boss send you to save us? You said he's not a wolf like us." 

Kitsi sighs, considering her options. Cale hadn't told her not to tell the kids about Lock, but the absence of the order to inform them immediately is telling enough that Kitsi should probably temper her words. "There's someone my young master is friends with who misses you a lot. The young master is doing this as a favor to him." She grins, sending Rashi a secretive look. "And, don't tell anyone I told you this, but the young master is fond of cute kids. If you give him puppy-eyes, he might give you some sweets." He'd started carrying candies around for the beast children he's already adopted under the guise of employment.

Kitsi has a sneaking suspicion there's a third child, presumably also a Beast, that's been hiding themselves from most of them. Choi Han and the Whales had tripped over their words while they were in the Forest of Darkness and Harris Village, occasionally mentioning a 'youngest' before hurriedly correcting themselves to ask after Hong. 

Whatever. Again; not Kitsi's business. 

"What're puppy-eyes?" Ceah asks, trodding closer. She's the tiniest of them, even though she's older than Roos. Maes told Kitsi that Ceah's just always been that small. "We're not puppies. We're wolves!" She's also, perhaps, the proudest of the bunch.

"Not—not actual dog eyes," Kitsi corrects herself, wondering if the phrase is actually unique to humans. "It's a human thing, I guess. A way to describe making yourself look cute and, uh, pleading? It's usually when a cute kid makes their eyes all wide and watery to ask for somethin'," she explains disjointedly. She'd attempt to demonstrate, but Kitsi's an eye short and very well aware of the fact that she is not cute.

Ceah goes to reply, maybe to ask for that demonstration Kitsi isn't willing to give, but Taya comes running up, cheeks red. "Noona!" he calls in a huff. "There's a ship at the port! The one you told me to watch!" 

As if cued by his announcement, the coded tap-tap-tap, pause tap-tap comes knocking at the door. 

Kitsi huffs. tossing all the rations she's been fiddling with into a pouch. The kids already know what to do, scrambling around to clear the safehouse of any evidence that they were there. Trash is tucked into fists and pockets, food passed along into another bag, and the older kids go quietly kicking up dust and herding the youngest together to leave. Kitsi watches them proudly out of the corner of her eye as she does her own packing, making sure the stolen documents are secure and hidden. With ten little assistants, Kitsi is leaning out the door to greet Dot within five minutes. 

As mysterious as ever, they barely glance in her direction, jerking their head towards the pier before starting off. The sky is dark with the cover of night, though they've all gotten used to being nocturnal; it's safer to be awake and making noise when nobody is awake nearby to hear them, after all. The kids, despite this, are quiet as they follow Dot's cloaked figure, tension hanging thick in the air.

The night is quiet enough that Kitsi is almost expecting something to go wrong, but the crickets never stop chirping completely and the headcount is still ten when they're all safely tucked away in the ship's hull. Kitsi tries to distract the kids when her sharper sense pick up a hint of iron; she knows the Wolf Tribe has good noses, and Raj is suspiciously missing. 

The sound of a body dragging across wood isn't unfamiliar to Kitsi, after all, but there's no reason for a bunch of children to acquaint themselves with that ruckus. She nods to Dot as they turn to leave, her own silent thanks. "You two are thorough," she tacks on, an afterthought.

She can almost make out Dot's smirk. "Raj doesn't leave loose ends when the job is paid well." 

The seas are smooth on their entire return to Roan, as though making it clear the gods are pleased. Kitsi's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.