Hm... Hmmmm... Oh! There you are Mi'liege. Have you seen this atrocious green mist. Heavens forbid you have to step through it. Oh? You would like to hear more of the story? Well, I do hope that you can find a comfortable place to sit by the bonfire. Perhaps one of these boxes shall suit thy royal needs. If anything I would hope that you would come. But not this soon...

Oh? You are wondering how I got here? That is quite simply a stroll through the woods for me. Nothing these old bones cannot do. But nevertheless a tip for you, Mi'liege. There is a young woman just beyond the safety of this pyre, and I do believe that the task she may set for you may require two hands. For she has a most wonderful chest... To store her many stones.

Hm? Why are you blushing Mi'Liege? Did you take my words into the wrong context? I say, the young heir has quite the rampant mind if I may say so myself.

However, be wary for that girl is quite oblivious to her surroundings and may forget who she was speaking to down the line.

Now where was I... Ah, Yes.

The day was like any other...

...

The crystal blue sky shined down light like a glorious incandescent father. Raining his love upon the Mother Earth and her children.

Alva climbed up the gravel path towards the Cathedral. His hair whipping against the wind and his white under cloth shirt representing the purity of the religious ground his tread upon.

...

As Alva climbed and followed the cathedral path he could not shake the foreboding feeling that he felt in his body. That perhaps something had gone horribly awry. He feared for his sister, for she was not guarded like the other living saints that he had heard about in scripture instead she was guarded by the seemingly remarkable anonymous reputation she had gain. While other Saints would revel in glory and pride that is their status. Serrata simply enjoyed the peace and quiet of their village. Preferring to not be known and sought after. For she was a beautiful and nubile young lady. Though most eligible young men in the village feared her Brother's spear or axe.

After all, Alva was the resident huntsman in the village and caught most of the untamed yet very tasty meat in the forests that neighbor the village. That was to say that he wasn't the only hunter, rather he was the best and youngest when compared to the others.

Alva climbed the hand carved and meticulously cared stairs up towards the Cathedral. His thoughts were not on how he should bow and scrape his knees upon the ground but rather how he could approach his sister while avoiding getting his ear pulled and yelled into. Perhaps the berries he had slung over his shoulder would be a sufficient sacrifice to her. Though that meant he would have to find something else to placate and offset his mostly meat, dried root, and water diet. Maybe he would try one of the fancier root fruits that were popular in the village. Potatoes? He thought to himself as he opened the almost too simple to be considered regal doors.

After all... The village can only provide so much in the name of a saint. Living or no, what the village could provide had already stripped the precious resources of the village. Thus it was good they were not associated with any of the nearby kingdoms. But such things would mean that the simple and humble life would be the farthest one could go in means of comfort.

Alva would often question the need to have such regal doors but most thoughts he had would end at the door as he entered the quiet and religious atmosphere of the cathedral.

"... And thus the advent of fire had ushered in the age of man and from that flame the power of miracles was given to a select few to provide and to protect those who did not have the power to do so themselves! Praise the holy fire and may it illuminate your lives in the passing." Echoed a voice from the podium of the Cathedral. The emanated from a slightly obese man, though it was often hard to tell how obese the man was due to his very loose and expensive cloth that consisted of his robes.

"Praise the fire! Praise upon the young saint!" Crowed the religious fanatics that knelt and prostrated themselves upon the altar and podium.

"Mmmh." Was all Alva said as he hugged the left wall. Heading towards the healing chapel where his twin resided. Often one must pay a hefty fee in order to enter but none would bar entrance to the family of the saint. For fear of the saint retaliating or protesting in her own scary but unique way. Alva shuddered at another horrible memory that appeared in his mind as he stared at the large black spot on the doorway into the healing chapel. Many would-be-suitors... Sadly wouldn't be returning home to their families- if any at all survived the first wave or the second or the third.

Alva nodded to the man who encompassed the space in front of the simple wooden door. Alva would often have a staring contest with the man, thinking and devising hundreds of ways on how to best to kill the man but never acting on those plans- for fear of his sister finding out.

The man stared back at Alva before he knocked on the door. And the two began their staring contest. Obviously waiting on the young saint to open the door. Waiting times would often be from two to ten minutes by Alva's estimations depending on the time of day, which was currently midmorning, how many people were in the Cathedral itself, to which Alva could count a few less than the usual, and whether or not the slightly large door wall had eaten or not, to which the wall of flesh did not as evident by the still full jug of water next to man and on the wall.

Though today took an especially long time as the two had blinked at least fifteen to sixteen times at least. Alva was about about to push the man aside when the door opened and his sister exited the room. Her long hair framing her face beautifully as her simple white dress left little to the imagination when it hugged her well proportioned body in all the right ways. If Alva wasn't related so closely to the young saint he too would be a part of the large burn mark that was upon the door and it's frame.

Saint Serrata was not one to be flirted with. She had dedicated her life to the art of healing and had taken a vow of a Celibate. Though celibacy did not hone her temper nor her tendency to summon bolts of light to smite those that annoy her. As those poor, poor suitors learned the hard way when Alva was injured in trying to prevent a stampede into the small healing chapel.

"Dear Brother! There you are I was perhaps wondering when you would appear. It is quite lonely here in the chapel and though I do enjoy the quiet of here. I do cherish the time we spend together as family." Serrata's soft and gentle voice masking the very scary side of her very well. Her face adorned with a gentle and happy smile.

Alva simply nodded and rubbed the top of his dear sister's head. She smiled even more as she wrapped her arms around him. It was a nice sibling reunion, though this happened like every four to five minutes between the two. While most would find that having contact with a Celibate would turn you into one, Alva was still male and had an hidden cache of "goods" that were meant for his eyes only.

But alas dear listener, I cannot tell you the details of the "goods" hidden away by Alva. For simply, I do not know the exact location of said "goods" but I shall leave that to your imagination. Now on with the story!

But Alva wondered about the veil she wore and gestured to it. He hadn't noticed it up to this point as he was oblivious to it. Nor was he expecting her to wear one.

"Oh! The Veil… Um, perhaps later. Yes! At a later time dear Brother! Are those berries I see? May we sit and share them?"

She offers a seat at her humble yet small table. Though her choice of clothing is no laughing matter. While the room is humble, the closet is not. Nope, if one wanted to be humble then they must dress humble, but not Saint Serrata she does whatever she wanted. Alva mentally punched that sort of thought out of his head. It wasn't as if she wanted to be humble. Serrata was a spoiled girl who wanted a spoiled life, but was unfortunately blessed with powers beyond her reckoning.

He took a seat at the humble table and presented his offering-no scratch that- his sacrifice to his younger sibling. Serrata looked at the sacrifice of wild, but safe to eat, berries with great interest and reached out to grab some. Alva took notice and slapped her hand. Making the no-no finger sign at her. Serrata looked at her older brother her face about to cry, but since she was wearing a veil it was hard to see.

Alva pointed at the nearby wash basin and washed his hands in the water, gesturing his sister to do the same. Though she was a saint, she was family first and foremost. And Alva wouldn't give her up for the world.

As they tucked into their meager snack of berries, Serrata was enjoying herself. Humming as she swung her feet from her chair, though she was tall enough to have both feet on the ground. Alva smiled at her.

…

Zullie hated the world. She hated everything. As one who used magic, it was obvious that many should have flocked to her in hopes of earning her trust. But rather she was hated and hunted. She wanted to engulf the world in flames in hopes of satisfying her anger against humanity. But… She wasn't like that. Yet.

Instead she casted a hex, one that her teacher had passed onto her, against a person who was following her. It wasn't very powerful but enough to dissuade the most advent of pursuers. Zullie continued running through the dark, avoiding trees and the occasional stump or fallen log. She was in a hurry to leave. Her staff and mace, while worn and appearing dull in the torch light. But the staff was a gift from her teacher, her teachings passed down to Zullie to continue on. Perhaps to pass on to Zullie's disciples should that ever happen. After all Leydian spellcasters were primarily well respected women, though men have been able to rise up to the level of the powerful witches they were however few in between centuries. Though many don't exist now due to a certain catastrophe regarding the trust of others and the secrets of the Leydian principles of magic.

Though not from the land itself, Zullie was always the good student and soon surpassed her teacher. Though not long after that pursuers in the name of knights from the nearby kingdom invaded the quiet and peaceful village where Zullie and her teacher resided. Thus gaining the permanent animosity of Zullie.

…

I wonder why I am telling you about this Zullie character, no? It is very simple. She is a very important person to this story. But hurry along now Mi'liege, lest you inhale the wrong fumes and be poisoned. But hold on, take these. They shall help with the toxic mist.

A/N: Thanks for waiting this long. As per usual I wish you all a good praising and a good day. Please remember to fa- NAHHHHHH, I'm just joshin' with ya. IN fact this Author's note is good for one thing. As of yet, Alva has not donned his signature armor nor has he met with waifu Zullie. So I'm thinkin' Ima lets ya decide on what weapons Alva should use from the combinations below. I will also be putting up a poll in my profile of which combinations I believe were possibilities. However, if you think you can come up with a better one then I shall put that on the poll as well or will count it as a single vote towards your combination.