Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[C S]

Dahnae hummed and sat back in her chair. She crossed her arms again and looked off to the ceiling, eyes pacing about as they had before. After a short silence, she looked Pamela in the eyes and said, "Maybe you shouldn't bump things when people are trying to sleep."

[The Kingpin]

"The Eyes are mysterious things. The abilities they grant are subtle and hard to define. The only overt influence they have on your abilities, that is easily noticed, is the ability to communicate with others at great distances. All other things are a mystery, and tend more likely to be observed by the user than anyone around them," said Antar matter of factly as he scratched through the Manticore's mane. A rumbling sound came from the beast as it tilted its head, stretching its neck to give Antar easier access.

"I have told you the tale of my Trial. Would you be willing to share yours?" asked the Sovereign as his attention shifted from the b east back to his guest.

"It was not a pleasant one," warned Andruil. "I suppose that is why it was a 'Trial'. It seemed like another life to me. My father had died, and my brother had joined the traitors to the West. My mother, I knew nothing of. I was the Duke of Riverdale, and had ruled for several years. The Adsila Kingdom still existed, and Vixen, my friend, my lover...She was the princess and heiress to the Kingdom. The entire time I felt uneasy about it. It was as though I was constantly..."

"Being watched?" offered the King.

"Precisely. Be it a grand banquet and festival or my most private moments, I felt as though I was being followed. Vixen's mother was ailing, her father preoccupied with her care, and Vixen herself had to manage the kingdom in many respects. She looked exhausted, as though the burden of responsibility would crush her."

"It is not an easy burden to bear. Many claim they could solve the problems of a kingdom if they were allowed to rule for a day, but if given the opportunity, they frequently crumble under the strain," agreed Antar.

"To make matters worse, His Majesty King Sebastian, in the Trial, was a powerful general and son of a tyrannical King. Draxon was brought low by his compaigns, Germania was to be annexed, and he had his eyes on the Adsila Kingdom. He was everything I sought to prevent during Valenhad's civil war. But in this world, he was the legitimate sovereign, and his son the legitimate heir," explained the Knight.

"So what did you do?" asked Antar.

"The only thing I could do, at the time. I listened. I observed my people, learned their feelings towards this," said Andruil, the King before him nodding slowly, approving in silence of his decision. "When I was sure I knew what the people had felt towards their King, I spoke to Vixen. I told her that King Salazar intended to invade her kingdom while it was weak. I told her that if he made a move, I would stand by her. I would secede from Valenhad and fight alongside her and her people as the King of Irrydil. And that was what came to pass," he continued.

"It is difficult to decide whether or not to go to war. But I had a feeling you would be one wise enough to make that decision. To wage war with the enemy because they are unjust, even when you know they may crush you, that takes courage not many rulers in this age have," commneted Antar, smiling with pride for his friend and ally. Andruil's expression was not so. Indeed, it was a dark one, haunted by the experience.

"The war was bloody, the deaths were...horrific. It was something out of my worst nightmares, as awful as the Battle of Aster, and infinitely more painful, because I knew I was killing people I had once fought to defend. It was as though I was slaying my own family. The sky was black and orange with the flames of the destruction we'd wrought. I could not hear voices. I could not hear my commands to my men. I could not even hear myself think. The war cries and orders of officers to their men had blended in with the screams of agony and the rumble of siege weapons. It was all one loud mess of sound; the roar of war. The soil had turned to mud from the blood of a hundred thousand men and women fighting for a cause they felt was noble. I was responsible for them all," he said, reaching for the qahwa put, pouring himself another cup and sipping it.

"Eventually, I met the Prince in that battle. He was a beast no less horrific than anything we faced in Eredar's legions. A Demon and a Drak both. I killed him at the walls of Crestvale, by driving my arm into his throat. I fed him the very poison his men had used to try and kill me, and it killed him. I do not know how I did not die in that battle...Or if that wasn't indeed the case. The Trial ended before I could learn of my ultimate fate. But my allies saw to it that Salazar did not live through it. At my sides were the Adsila Kingdom, the Hueilin, and ironically, the Elves of the West; the ones who betrayed my family, and to whom my brother defected in that world. It was a Hueilin that brought the palace crashing to the ground. It was the last thing I saw before I was returned from the depths of the Trial."

[C S]

It was a relentless test to be sure. Desrium's attention was drawn to each detail Andruil shared, not for the purpose of a story, but for the fact they had impacted him deeply. He was pitted in the gut of a political and moral behemoth and made to believe it was all real. For all that Cleotaire did to repair his mind, to have him be able to perceive it all as a vivid dream, Desrium could see the remnants of damage to the knight that magic could not mend.

And that brought up further inquiries that Desrium ultimately kept to himself. Questions that pertained to the reality of Andruil's war. Did Cleotaire exploit the imagery and sensations from Andruil's role in Valenhad's actual civil war to send him through that hardship a second time, or was her method more... disconnected than that?

His reunion with Septimus was short, but Desrium had learned of Syria's aethereopic vision in that time: the art of using magic itself to glimpse into the past. If the two aspects were so conjoined, magic and time; and the Life Bringer so vastly ancient, could it be possible that she had command over such magic? Magic that can call upon past, present, future, and all the different possibilities in between that Arashi had once described to Septimus?

Like the Eyes themselves, the magic involved was almost incomprehensibly complex. Arashi nearly lost his life in leaving the fabric of reality that both space and time comprised, joining with that unfathomable thing outside of existence itself, spawned by the very same entity which had given Desrium the power to save a continent. Syria was able to grasp at echoes of events that had already happened, events that could have been irrevocably altered by the Experimentalist's dealings, or any others that had succeeded in placing themselves in a time they did not belong. And then there was Cleotaire, able to see all of these things, but lacking the means to comprehend them; unable to tell what was prophecy and what were things that could have been.

It was with these thoughts that Desrium remained in his silence with. These questions were his alone, and without the means to emote, it was just the most ordinary thing to the others. They would not be bothered by inquiries into the fundamental nature of their universe. Near the end of Antar and Andruil's conversation, something dawned upon the Stalwart.

This interest in the inconceivable and unobtainable... this was Liorick's tendency at work. It drew a thoughtful sound from the armored being.

[The Kingpin]

Setting a hand on the Knight's shoulder and squeezing, Antar smiled. "It takes a strong man to make decisions as you did. Even stronger to endure the consequences. I can see why the Life Bringer was impressed," he said. "Do not worry too much of the content. The Trial of Kings challenges us all in different ways, some fantastical, others very believable. But none of them have been accurate images of what is to come. Though there may be germs of truth woven into them."

"I understand. Thank you for the kind words, Antar. I do not think King Sebastian would ever do what I saw in my Trial, nor do I believe the Adsila kingdom will magically come back into existence with Vix at it's head. But it does worry me to think that this trial was so close to our real world...so similar. It was the result of subtle differences at different times in Aster's past, culminating in this. It is unsettling, even if it is untrue," said Andruil lowly.

"I know how you feel. Do not worry yourself about the trial, Andruil. In time, every scar fades. Even those left upon the mind," said the King, Andruil nodding. A small smile graced his features, difficult to make out to those not looking for it.

Pyranex observed in silence. He was taken aback by the state of the Knight. He had seemed unchanged when he left the Temple, but now that he had forced himself to relive it a second time, the true impact of what he had undergone had come to light. And even he, a gryphon with no such concerns of war and political dangers, could see how it would leave him scarred. He would never openly admit it, but the Knight had earned his respect today.

"Desrium. Andruil will leave my halls with an Eye of the Afreet, but you stand to leave with nothing. I cannot give something as grand as the gifts of the Life Bringer, but I refuse to let you leave my city empty-handed. So tell me, what gift do you feel will best serve one such as yourself?" stated the Monarch as his gaze shifted to the Stalwart Paladin.

[C S]

Desrium did not expect to be addressed. In lieu of the previous occupation of his thoughts, he was unprepared to answer the question. He tilted his helmet to the side. It was a puzzling request: a request that asked him to request something. What could he possibly ask for? Cleotaire had already done him a service, putting him through a trial twice, on top of giving him a new title to call his own.

"I am sorry, Qa'id, there is nothing I can ask of you," said the armored being. He started to rise from his knees, adding, "I am afraid that anything you insist on providing me with will only be destroyed later on. I am prone to misfortune, as you discovered."

[The Kingpin]

"Then you will need that which cannot be destroyed. Or rather, something that can be hidden away so that destruction is not something you need worry about," said Antar, giving it some thought. A rumble of complaint came from the Manticore, annoyed that his master had ceased his grooming. Antar smiled, tracing his arm back along the beast's shoulders and the front of one wing, beginning to scratch at it there.

"Assuming destruction was not an issue, what would you most find use in? A blade? A satchel of some sort?" inquired the Qa'id.

[C S]

"The Blood Dragon's Fang is my sword. I am not a collector of things, like Septimus." Desrium folded his arms. It appeared a riddle all its own. What gift could one that did not feel and did not tire be given? There was Syria's compass, a thing that may as well have been blessed in its own right to have escaped Tyrbenetus without damage, not to mention its meaning to the paladin. There was the pointed hat that once rested on his head, a gift from Septimus. Septimus also left a parting gift to him before leaving the war-cursed land, the ill-fated vitorite melted by Xrtylxx's fire. And of course, there was Jiier's robe...

"Is there a way to make a robe unable to be damaged?" Desrium asked. He had little faith in the idea, but so long as he was set on redeeming the Fang in Jiier's memory, he did not see any harm in asking.

[The Kingpin]

"Indestructibility is a difficult enchantment, and a costly one. The materials for that would be incredibly rare, even for one such as myself to acquire. But I can give you something almost as good. I am not quite sure how it would react with your...unconventional circumstances. But I believe a soul-bound robe enchanted with a summoning spell would serve as a good substitute. A garment you can dismiss and summon at will, and thus protect from damage if you suspect it may be at risk," said the Monarch of the Sands. "Would that serve your purposes?"

[C S]

"Soul-bound," the armored being repeated. What a connotation that simple phrase had when he was concerned. Soul-bound. Just like him. Or was it the other way around?

Cleotaire was convinced this was the source of his strength, however. The thing that gave him virtue and merit in her eyes.

With that in mind, Desrium's response was a simple, "Yes."

[The Kingpin]

"Excellent! I will have my tailor come and take measurements. You can tell him how you wish for your clothing to be. The enchanters will tend to the finished clothing as soon as they receive it," declared the Sovereign cheerfully. At that, one of the servants at the entrance of the room departed, undoubtedly to summon the tailor.

The Sovereign would not say it, but there was a reason why he could not outright deny an indestructible possession. For all intents and purposes, his experience of them insisted that it was indeed impossible. But new discoveries were being made in the realms of magic all the time. The very one he offered this gift to was an exception to that same rule. Knowing this, he could not say that it was impossible. It would not do to be made a fool of one day by a talented enchanter simply because he foolishly made an assumption that he did not reconsider.

"And what of you, Pyranex? What may I bestow upon you?"

The gryphon's head snapped in his direction so fast it looked like it would've kept going and broken, so jarring was the movement. "For me? I..." he started, looking as shocked as he sounded.

"Of course. You may aid Andruil as a mount, but you are still aiding him. You are an ally every bit as much as Desrium or Andruil, in my eyes. And I will not have it said that Antar Timeemi, the Qa'id of Thimeyra, was generous to one ally and not another," said Antar firmly.

"You have my thanks, Elfking...but I do not know what you could give me that would aid me," rumbled the gryphon.

"Hmm...Those braces on your wings...What purpose do they serve?"

"Protection, and aid in carrying weights beyond my own for long distances," responded Pyranex hesitantly.

"Are they comfortable?"

"To a degree, yes. They weigh on my wings somewhat, so they aren't as efficient as they could be. And the saddle I was fitted with was made for a regular gryphon. Their bodies are wider and shorter than mine," he explained.

"I see. That is unfortunate," said the King. A moment later, he called over one of the servants, using his own tongue so that his guests could not tell what he was saying. The gryphon could not have known at the time, but Antar had arranged, in the span of a few sentences, for the blacksmith and the leather craftsman to come to his court. By the time the trio left Thimeyra, Pyranex would be clad in a saddle tailored perfectly to his needs, decorated with finery that was both practical and elegant; worthy of a veritable prince among gryphons. The King was later to specify that everything, from the new saddle to the wing supports, the dark blue and gold fabric decorating the edges of the saddle and the finely crafted saddlebags would retain the benefits of the old set. More importantly, it would bear a weightlessness charm.

[C S]

The last time Desrium had anything measured out for him, it was the harness he wore over his robe. It carried his shield and two humble short swords. Protection and weaponry that also met their end in fire. Knowing this, there was a nagging resistance in the back of the Stalwart's mind. Hopes and gestures of kindness had been showered upon him, and most of them were lost to the world now. All that had proven constant in the face of his journeys was the dark metal shell that was his excuse for a body.

In his own words, he had to continue regardless. He had destroyed faces of his past more than enough times by now to know he could not let the depths of an ocean weigh on him, or the fires of oblivion to turn his future into ash. This was just another forge to step out from, reinforced and stronger than ever.




It took some waiting before Andruil was presented his Eye of the Afreet: a peculiar black jewel set inside pale metal that looked to have been platinum extracted from the Life Bringer's chamber directly, how pure and how polished it gleamed in the Lord's court. The ring itself, in addition to the design of claws embossed onto the bezel, had many small golden chains strung tightly around the outside. They appeared to pulse with the relic's latent magic.

Desrium's robe followed after another while of waiting. A deep red fabric that was folded in the arms of the servant that brought it to the armored being. He took it in his gauntlets and held it up in front of him. It was a long garment, and finely made, as to be expected. Metalwork was integrated around the shoulder pieces, bronze pauldrons that had conical caps to accommodate his spikes. The pauldrons consisted of angular plates that overlapped over each other and extended a little further past his shoulders themselves, curling upwards. There was also metalwork in the neck of the outfit, culminating in a medallion that rested over the chest. It lacked a jewel, instead bearing several runic inscriptions that were undeniably elvish in origin. Long, slender strokes of the jewelcrafter's engraving tools imbued the item with Thimeyra's reverence for the soul.

To be a hero among these elves, Desrium thought that to be the very definition of irony.

He accepted Antar's gift. He slipped it over his armored body, the caps catching on his shoulders and the rest of the outfit falling naturally around him, fluid like water. The hood was somewhat pointed, due to his helmet's fin. The medallion took on a sheen as its magic worked its way into his being. It took to Aderalia -- him without incident.

Lastly, Pyranex's wing-struts were fitted onto the gryphon. Individually, they were thin strips of gold. Mounted together on the frame that caressed the leading edges of his wings, they were pieces befitting royalty. Grooves in the plating were heated until they took on the blue hue that matched the fabric that was laid underneath the saddle and saddlebags. The patterns they formed emulated the gryphon's feathers. The trailing edges of the plates also worked to this aesthetic, coming to a triangular point and fitted together so that they would fold with Pyranex's wings. A literal set of golden wings that bore the magic of Wirshahs, negating his weakness in the sun. It was as if he had been infused with its power.

As for weightlessness, that was accomplished with an enchanted helmet, crafted to look more like a crown. It sat on the gryphon's head, matching gold and blue. The metal came down into sharp points on either side of his head just before the corners of his beak. A ridge of blue and white protected the bridge of his snout. His eyes were given ample clearance with a swept back cut in the helmet, with the brow ridges having horns angled backwards with the design, mimicking the gryphon's sharp feathers.

Near the end of the day, Antar's hall was set for feasting. Pyranex was given his place at the table, though without a chair. He was free to enjoy the bounty of meat to his satisfaction, if only for the price of being pestered by Shiryaz. The bird did well to pester everyone eating, save for his master, so his antics were at least mostly without bias. With their celebration and goodbyes finished, the three left Antar's palace for Dhul'Valen, a mirror of their departure for the city in the sands. The sun was setting over Thimeyra on their way back to Valenhad.


The sun was setting, but the day was not over yet.


Baaz was back in Daaven. The city was hanging wreaths on doors and running the leafy decorations across door frames and balconies. Snow was in the streets, full banks at the sides of buildings and homes after the shoveling to clear the roads. With the green more or less in place, the reds of tapestries were next to follow for the holiday celebrations. With neighbors and workmates constantly spouting tidings of good cheer, it was a challenge for the ranger's mood to sour.

Baaz was good at superseding challenges.

She was sat at a table in a small cottage. The fireplace was going, filling the hearth with a warm yellow glow. Despite the warmth, Baaz's scowl threatened winter's worst wrath, how cold it was. She breathed heavily through her nostrils. At any moment, Chandra expected smoke to start puffing out of the soldier's nose.

She knew Baaz was not on the best terms with her after her dismissal and reassignment. Two months made no difference with such things, she'd learned being at the head of the ranger's squad. This was a new kind of resentment she was witnessing, though.

"Any questions about the mission, Baaz?" Chandra broached evenly and professionally. She did not break eye contact with her former squadmate, but she was acutely aware of Valeria ducking down behind the back of the chair closest to the fireplace behind her. There was something about the young soldier that just radiated her meekness.

"None. I understand it all crystal clear. As clear as the icicles around the windows!" Chandra watched Baaz's fingers curl into fists. Not this again.

"Baaz," the older woman warned, her voice taking an authoritative edge. Don't you dare.

"He pulls me out of the desert for this?" Baaz laughed without humor. "I was told he'd be the one to tell me what was going on, and he doesn't even have the nerve to show up?"

"Urlox is busy right now. He has to make sure Ramdiaz has a replacement for him for the time we'll be gone."

"Of course. Let me guess, we're sitting in his home as some kind of an apology?"

"Yes, actually." Chandra folded her fingers.

Baaz scoffed and leaned back in her chair. Sent off to bake in the sun, called back to go through the snow. Off the record, no less! "So this is your lizard, Urlox? At least I was able to kill mine alone. But a warrior has to do what a warrior has to do, huh, old man?" she thought bitterly, and that put an equally spiteful smirk on her face.

[The Kingpin]

"Considering how unforgiving the desert can be, I would consider this a blessing," rumbled a gravelly voice in the shadows of one of the corners of the room. The snap and hiss of what turned out to be a match could be heard as the speaker lit a short, beaten up pipe, the glow of the flame revealing hazel eyes and a scarred face. "At least, these first few hours of it," he corrected. The venture they were to go on soon was far from being called a mercy. It was very likely more than one of them would die before it was over.

[C S]

Baaz raised a brow, then looked to Chandra with a suitably questioning expression. "I stand corrected. Not entirely crystal clear."

Yes, she had been told about the mysterious man who lingered in their company; the sole reason for the operation about to be underway. Chandra informed her that this "Matthias" was an old friend of Urlox's, from a time before he was the captain of the guard. Baaz was but a recruit all the way back then, around the same age as Valeria and yet to take her ranger trials in the forests. Chandra did not know anything about him either. Nothing substantial, at least.

"Any questions you have beforehand, please share them," Chandra replied in her begrudgingly formal way. Things were already shaky between her and Baaz but she had to maintain some degree of order and civility.

"I just find it weird, is all. And not just being called from miles and miles away just to be slapped with another mission I have no choice but to participate in," Baaz gave Chandra a strange look, a blend between knowing and accusing, "but how this person just shows up one day, and spurs this whole thing. Going up against the elves? I know Daaven's assignments can take us soldiers far from our walls; and I wasn't the best student back in the day so my history is a bit rusty, but I thought we were supposed to be neutral?"

"Captain Urlox holds this operation's objectives in high regard. He would not be doing this if it was not pertinent." Chandra coolness clashed with Baaz's mounting convictions. This didn't feel right, and Baaz couldn't tell if it was a slight against her personally, or signs of deeper trouble.

"Captain Urlox might just be going off the deep end," she retorted, hands clutching her seat's armrests as she leaned towards the squad leader. "Did you not stop to think that this 'Matt' is an agent whose goal is to destabilize Daaven? I've bled too much to just go along with this nonsense."

"Miss Walgruuf--" Valeria said, peeking out from behind her chair. She flinched when Baaz's angry gaze was directed her way.

The young soldier did not get the chance to say any more. "He means to bring this sorry lass with us, on a mission without any support for an extended period of time. The man's lost it, I swear."

[The Kingpin]

"Urlox is a competent soldier. One of the most competent I have ever met. He also knows his men, or women, as the case may be, better than most commanders. I trust his judgement," said the grizzled man as he rose from his seat, walking towards where the trio were.

[C S]

"Amazing. I'm sure that I'm the only sane one in this room, and even then I feel like a lunatic." Baaz glanced away from the stranger to Valeria. The youth of the group was making a conscious and strained push to assert herself, coming out from behind her cover and standing straight, arms behind her back as she was taught in the past.

"If I felt like I was not ready for this mission, I wouldn't be here," Valeria stated, her stance firm and without shudder or stutter.

"If I felt that this mission went against Daaven's ideals, I would not be here either," said Chandra.

Baaz narrowed her eyes. Words were so easily spoken, Chandra did little to sway her. Personal bias also worked to lessen the meaning of her words. Valeria, however... she had to admit there was something about all of this had held some valid weight. Something that was compelling enough to make Valeria grow a goddamn spine.

"So that's it, huh? Roll in and remove some bad apples from the bunch?" Baaz shrugged and snorted. Turning her sights on Matthias, she added, "Fine. I won't make a fuss. But you make one wrong move, mister, and I'll put you down just like that." She snapped her fingers and rested back in her seat.

[The Kingpin]

"I'm sure you would try. Many have in the past year. Their entrails litter the forests from here to Lustria," was his response to that.

"I cannot tell you everything of our mission or its significance, for your safety as well as the mission's. But I can say that Daaven's fate is very much a matter of concern if we do nothing. As is the fate of much of the Eastern Kingdoms," he continued as he took a long draw from the pipe, streams of smoke spilling from his nostrils a moment later. "If it were something that could be done by one man, neither you, nor Thimeas would even know of it. Loose lips sink ships, as they say. Only those that need know, do know. And that list consists of those in this room, and one more, who has yet to grace us with his presence."

[C S]

After a few blinks of her eyes, Baaz gave Chandra one last spiteful look. Whether in the silence of a stealthy creep through a foreign city, or in the heat of combat, she'd have to trust her life with her teammate. And though it almost killed her to acknowledge, Chandra had the tactical mind to guide a group of soldiers without losing any in active duty. It was clear why Urlox brought her along, in that regard. Valeria, not so much. Maybe he hoped to force the creation of another prodigy. But as far as Chandra was concerned, Baaz only had so much longer to make it clear: I strongly dislike you.

To Chandra's eternal credit, she took it in stride. She was happy settling with Baaz accepting her responsibility as part of the team. She couldn't have predicted what Baaz was going to do next, though.

"I'm no stranger to personal fights, Matthias." She'd be more civil, but Baaz would make it clear that she didn't trust this stranger. "All the same, I really don't find much value in just talking about them. If you're really so tough, give me a demonstration."

[The Kingpin]

"If you insist, then I will oblige. But let us wait until we are outside the city and away from prying eyes. The fewer people know I am alive, the easier this mission will be for us all," said the grizzled Wanderer simply.

[C S]

"Once we leave Daaven's gates we will be a unit," Chandra said. Baaz thought it was just like her to make a play for everyone to start thinking as partners, but she had a point. As petty as she knew she could be, Baaz had to bury the figurative hatchet in this case. She nodded and said, "Alright. Until I see you in action, I'll just have to take your word for it."

She smirked. "Just don't embarrass yourself in front of me, yeah? I'd hate to be disappointed."

Chandra drew a heavy breath. "Baaz." Her patience was being tried.

"Alright." Baaz waved as a gesture for the older woman to calm herself. She got up and said, "I'm going to start getting ready to turn in for the night. I take it those cases at the door have our gear in them?"

"Unofficial uniforms, sling-bows and a few utilities provided by Dundorf."

"Dundorf." Baaz took another look at Matthias' gauntlets. Of course. "So that means...?"

"Your things have been gathered, yes." Chandra expected another tirade about how the ranger's things had been handled while she was away. It was very much an invasion of privacy.

Baaz only sighed. "At least you spare me the trouble of packing."

With that, she headed out of the hearth. She'd find some other chair to spend the night in.



By next light, the unit sans Urlox was out. Chandra took up point in the darkness of the winter morning, the rays of the rising sun yet to reach over the Boldrim. She led the others down a route that deliberately twisted and doubled back on itself so that the regular patrols would not spot them. As such, it took longer to walk it, but as per the guard captain's plan, the squad arrived at the main gates and were received by the soldiers Urlox himself had put on post. They knew only that the strange unit would be before them some time after dawn, and that they were to let the group through with just the barest of acknowledgement. The last hurdle of information in Daaven, and they were given rights to plausible deniability.

As far as they were concerned, the gates did not open that morning.

Baaz was back in her dark red suit, sling-bow slung on her back. Her quiver full of arrows was strapped to a thigh, and her ammunition ranged from bolts to incapacitating snares. It really did remind her of setting off after Xilo, though in cold weather. The purple sky was lined with clouds. Attached to her belt was a leather pouch that was padded on the interior to hold a Hawksight scope.

Chandra and Valeria also had the same pouch on their belts, their bows on their backs and their quivers on their legs. Their suits, being of a later make than Baaz's, had some key differences in design. They were both dark green and brown in color, and patterned with spots and stripes to break up their figure as much as possible without being too conspicuous because of it.

And Matthias, owing to his lifestyle of staying low, wore his usual ensemble, with the addition of his knife-gloves.

The sun was up some ways into the morning sky by time the group came across Urlox himself, sitting at the side of the road. They almost did not recognize him without his green and silver plating. When questioned about it, he told them that what he wore was a refitted version of his old commando suit. It was a suit of dark brown leather, nearly black. Overlapping pads protected his shoulders and torso. He wore a greenish gambeson underneath the leather pads, which had an overlaid black lattice that brought to mind the appearance of mail armor, though it functionally could not match actual chainmail.

As for his equipment, aside from the general necessities that they all carried such as bandages and small rations, he only had his broad steel sword attached to his waist. It sunk in to the two rangers and the young recruit then, that this was the Thimeas Matthias had mentioned the night before. The soldier before he was a commander.

With his joining, the unit was complete, and they made their way down the main roads between settlements to the west.

[The Kingpin]

The Knight passed through the gates of Brodudika relatively quietly. Pyranex, pleased with his new equipment and still on a high point in his mood thanks to the recognition and respect he had been given by the Desert King, was surprisingly quiet and cooperative as he walked through the gates. The Knight, left with very little conversation to distract him, was relatively silent himself, reflecting on what had transpired during his Trial, and Shiryaz, being Shiryaz, was perched outside a window of a certain school in the city, sating his curiosity now since his hunger was not something he needed to be concerned with for the time being.

The Knight had already said his farewells to the Stalwart Guardian of Brodudika a while back. He knew that Desrium would have his own matters to attend to, and Andruil himself would have to rest and resupply before departing for Rivderdale to give a personal debriefing to his brother and father. And from there, he hoped, it was an easy trip back to the village, and to friends he actually felt comfortable letting his guard down around. If only to a degree.



It was another two days after his arrival in Brodudika before the Knight was finally 'home'. The tall, reinforced wooden gates of the village split apart once he reached them, opening to allow the Knight entry.

"Welcome back, m'Lord. I trust your mission went well?" asked Thorald as he descended the steps to the upper platform along the walls.

"Heard about it already? Word travels fast," said the Knight.

"Miss Rowan and miss Vix mentioned it in passing when they returned," responded Thorald with a shrug.

"I see. It was a successful mission. The Duke and Knight-Commander were satisfied with my debriefing. At ease," concluded the Knight as he moved onwards, the guard captain giving the Knight a salute before returning to his post; a seat in one of the towers on either side of the gate.



A spark lit up the darkness. It was a little thing, spurred by a lot of effort. But it was something. The young Elvish girl smiled widely, excited by her achievement, only to frown as she was plunged back into darkness once more. That's right. I have to focus.

And again. And again. The tip of her wand sparked once more. And then, finally, it lit up, a small flame hovering over the tip of the magical instrument. Success!

And then it was gone. Damn it!

...But it was something. Septimus would be proud. And Syria...maybe.