"Great minds are always feared by lesser minds."

― Dan Brown, The Lost Symbol

He was standing on an unknown cliff, staring down at an unfamiliar landscape. The sound of war erupted all around him, and the air smelled of blood and cinders. He couldn't tell friend from foe, his eyes burned from the ashes that billowed up from below.

In a word, it was hell.

His left arm protested against every movement, cracking painfully and making him see stars. He knew he had to push forward; it was a coward's death to die now while his comrades fought below.

His mind screamed at him to move, but his body simply would not respond. Why couldn't he move?!

A soft tug came from behind him, and he crooned his neck to see. His sword clambered to the ground below, his knees finally giving out.

Elizabeth, no older than the last day he saw her - her hair still tangled with wild grass and flowers - stood behind him. Her face was bloodied, her gown stained in both old and fresh blood. She looked at him with lifeless eyes, filled with nothing but hatred.

Elizabeth! He tried to say, but his mouth would not open.

"Why didn't you try to save me?" She said, voice gurgling and guttural. "Why didn't you try to look for me?"

Guilt washed over him. That wasn't true. He had spent every day for months begging Denzel to tell him what had happened. He had pestered the adults and the clergy for just as long. He had even went as far as to venture out of the village himself. But, unable to speak, he was unable to explain how hard he had tried.

Even when she was right in front of him, he still couldn't reach her.

She cocked her head to the side, tangled hair falling around her small body like a mangled halo. She reached behind her, pulling out a twisted knife - the same etchings as his parents decorating it's blade.

"Why did you forget about me?"

Meliodas sprang awake. His skin was clammy with sweat and his bedsheets were tangled in and around his legs as if he had been kicking through the night. He slapped himself on the cheeks hard, attempting to awaken his senses back to the real world.

He hadn't had that dream since he was a child. So why now?

Sunlight had already begun to shine through the cracks of his window panes. It was still early morning, but there was no point in trying to fall back asleep now. The last thing he needed was to go back to that dream…

Throwing off his damp sheets and shedding his soiled sleeping clothes, Meliodas strutted towards his wash basin. He splashed his face and body with the freezing cold liquid, grateful for the way it alerted his senses. Shivering, he dried off quickly, dressing in simple cotton clothing and clasping the dagger against his arm as he headed out towards the training area.

He unsheathed the blade absentmindedly as he went, twirling it expertly between nimble fingers. Its weight had always been a comfort for him, a way to still his mind. But now… now all he could think of was the dream.

Turning the dagger on its side, he examined the etchings that glinted in the early morning light. He had never given them much thought, simply passing it off as some decoration. It was never anything more than the last keepsake he had of his parents. Where it had come from or what it had been used for before had never crossed his mind. But, seeing the way that Mael had observed it had him thinking twice.

If nothing else, maybe it could be a topic for the grueling task he had set out before him. Maybe this was his ticket to making his time with Mael more than just hostile.

Meliodas grimaced. Great. He had almost forgotten about the mission. Dread weighed him down instantly. Just think, it's only a few weeks, at most.

Nope. That wasn't helping.

He gripped the dagger tight. He had never been in the best standing of Ludociel, but for him to assign him on this mission with his little brother was too much. There were plenty of other soldiers just as capable as he was - if not more - who could have assisted Mael in escorting the holy woman back.

It was no use pondering the intentions of a madman. With a sigh, Meliodas placed the dagger back in it's rightful place, rounding the bend that would lead to the courtyards. The garrison was empty this time of day, only those returning from night duties or those assigned with early morning tasks wandered the halls.

A swish of white caught his eye, the unmistakable robes that the clergy women wore. She was leaning against a small stone ledge that looked out onto the courtyard, her elbows propping up her head. She looked almost dreamy, as if she still wasn't entirely awake.

Quietly, Meliodas approached her, leaning on the window beside her. "Can't sleep?"

She jumped slightly, obviously not paying enough attention to notice him approaching. "Oh!" the holy woman exclaimed, clutching at her chest, "I'm sorry. I must not have heard you come over."

Meliodas leaned forward, gazing out onto the courtyard, imagining what it was that stole her attention. "oh my!" she continued, not giving him a chance to respond, you're the guy who saved me the other day!"

"Meliodas." He said with a warm smile, balancing the weight of his head against his hand.

"Meliodas." She repeated. She bowed deeply, her hair covering her face. "Thank you very much for rescuing me. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

He waved the formality away, tapping against the stone beside him, signaling for her to join him again. "Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're okay….?"

"Diane!" She finished for him. A light blush dusted her cheeks. She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers as she took her spot beside him once more, covering her mouth with the lock as she returned her gaze out the window. "Sorry, I've always been told I need to work on my manners."

"Please, some novice knight like myself doesn't do well with pleasantries." He chuckled. "I'm not some noble, you can be as casual with me as you wish."

"I couldn't do that!" Diane exclaimed, "I really do owe you more respect than that! Who knows what would have become of me if those thugs had it their way…. If you hadn't shown up when you had…"

Meliodas placed his hand gently over her own, stopping her from rambling on further. "It's no good to think about the possibilities." He said, shaking his head. "Trust me. Nothing good comes from it."

The dream flashed back in his mind, unsettling him further. Diane's gaze softened, sympathy laced in her face. He turned to look back out the window, hoping his unease didn't show in her body language.

"So!" Meliodas said cheerfully, "I've never been up North. Can you tell me what it's like?"

"You'll see for yourself soon enough." A harsh voice came from behind. They both turned to see Ludociel, standing with his arms behind his back. He tapped his foot impatiently, sneering down at Meliodas before turning his attention towards Diane.

"Lady Diane, I have not finished debriefing you. A moment, if you'd please?"

Diane turned to Meliodas ruefully. She mouthed a quick 'I'm sorry' before skipping off towards Ludociel, walking off in the direction of his office.

"And Meliodas," Ludociel paused, keeping his back towards him as he spoke. "If I were you I would spend this time preparing, not making friends."

Meliodas' eyes narrowed, another uneasy wave of skepticism pulsing through his veins. "Of course sir."

He turned back towards the courtyard, gazing out at the dirt and grass, a foul taste lingering in his mouth

Sweat dripped off of his face, dropping to the dirt below and instantly soaking into the parched soil. He was out of breath, his grip weak around the hilt of his training blade; but his mind was clear.

Replacing the wooden blade to its place on the rack, he took towards his room. The sun was already well over the horizon, leaving him little time to wash and prepare.

The garrison was already beginning to fill with bodies, each soldier dressed and equipped for the day as they returned from the mess hall of shower room. Meliodas said his greetings, and to other, his goodbyes as he walked through the cobblestone halls.

A cry caught his attention. He stopped, holding his breath and listening for the sound again. The cry came again, weak and raspy as it bounced off the walls, sounding like a ghosts wail. The sound was coming in the direction of the dungeons. But, it was far too early to begin interrogations, wasn't it?

Curiously overcame his common sense, and Meliodas crept up towards the large wooden doors of the dungeon. Carefully, he pushed the door open and peered inside. To his surprise, the room was empty, only prisoners chained up to the wall or leaning against the iron bars of cells inhabited the space.

When the prisoners saw him, they erupted into a flurry of curses in various languages. Others, accepting of their capture, simple turned their nose towards him, ignoring his presence entirely.

One prisoner glared towards him with piercing hatred. His eyes burned from the look alone, and Meliodas recognized him as the bandit Mael had captured the other day.

He was chained up uncomfortable against the wall, his wrists and hands a deep purple from prolonged pressure. His legs were limp under him, small whimpers of pain betrayed him as he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, failing each time.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Meliodas entered the dungeon room. The air was thick with evil - but in reality it was simply overly humid. The entire room stunk of mold and the iron scent of old blood. While prisoners were typically left to be dealt with by the royal guard of the city, that hardly stopped interrogators torturing them in the meantime.

Meliodas had never been assigned to dungeon duty, but Ban had. He did not envy his friend on those days, and many times the man had returned with a vacant look in his eyes.

"What, your companion had enough of me?" the bandit spat at Meliodas. "Or are you tired of the whore already?"

Meliodas cocked an eyebrow, "My companion? You mean the tall, hulking dumbass of a man?"

The bandit narrowed his eyes, clearly agitated that his provocations had failed. "Yeah, that's the one. The fucker who paralyzed me and then proceeded to torture a poor cripple."

In the dim light Meliodas could make out the purple bruises that wrapped around his body like some kind of morbid jewelry. His clothes were tattered and stained with blood in various places, particularly on his legs. Despite the nausea, Meliodas couldn't feel sympathy for the bandit. "Dangers of the occupation. You're one who kidnapped a holy woman."

The bandit scoffed, laughing pitifully between fits of coughs and winces of pain. "You can think whatever you want. We were only taking back what was rightfully ours."

"I would hold my tongue, if I were you." Meliodas whistled, thumbing at the hilt of his blade. "I may have a better temper than Mael, but even the saints have their limits."

The bandit seemed to consider his words for a moment, his eyes flitting between the sword at Meliodas' hip and his face. "You're not one of them." The bandit finally said. "One of the blue bloods, I mean. Nobility."

He did not respond.

"You can try to act all high and mighty, but it shows in your demeanor." The bandit continued. "You carry yourself like the rest of us. So, you understand, right?"

"No." Meliodas responded flatly. "I don't."

"They take everything from us. Our food, our money, our children. I used to be a farmer by the border, you know that? I had a wife and kids - two sons. My life was hard, but peaceful, until the church came, that is."

Meliodas remembered when the priest, Hendrickson had come to his small southern town of Caelfall. He remembered the way the townsfolk murmured their disapproval, his demands for increased provisions and taxes - the way his grandfather had been worked nearly to death for months afterwards simply to meet quota.

And... he took Elizabeth away.

"I can see it in your face, that you understand what I'm talking about." The bandit said all too eagerly. "They took my sons for their war, they increased our provision quotas until I had lost my farm. With no money and no home, my wife couldn't afford treatment when she was sick, so she died, painfully and slowly. I had no choice. I had to take back something in return, to make them pay for all they had done to us, to my family."

Meliodas twirled a finger around the bevel. "Kidnapping an innocent woman will not get your revenge against the church." He was getting tired of his drivel. He had no reason to entertain this scum, anyways. He turned to leave, prepared to end the conversation with that. The bandit laughed, stopping him in his tracks.

"Do you really think you would be a mutt for the military if they had not interfered in your life? Honestly? Truly? They've taken something from all of us. A single woman isn't enough to get back at them."

Meliodas turned, taking a step forward, gripping at the hilt of his blade tight. "You make it sound like you plan to take more."

From this close, he could smell the rank on the man's breath as he grinned. A sly grin, one filled with malicious intent. If he were going to talk, Meliodas did not let him, punching him hard in the stomach and gripping at his shirt. He pulled him up off the ground effortlessly, his legs dangling like a dead fowls beneath him.

"I don't care about your motives, I think you're as sick as they come. If you thought you could win over my sympathy with a sob story, you were wrong." Meliodas was calculated, his anger never once showing in his voice despite his harsh words. "Bastards like you don't deserve anything but death."

The bandit coughed, but did not struggle. He grinned down at him, his expression never once changing. "Then what does that make you?"

Meliodas pinned him hard against the stone wall behind them, digging his elbow into his chest and pushing the air out from him. He smiled ruefully, cooing against his ear. "What about me?"

"You're helping them kill our own countrymen." He rasped, "I may be no better than scum, kidnapping a woman, but at least I don't have the blood of thousands of our countrymen on my hands."

The door creaked open, but he did not move. The bandit struggled weakly against his grip, eyes widening as he glanced towards the door.

"Meliodas!" Lucociel's stern voice cut through the mold in the air. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He loosened his grip only marginally. "Nothing sir. This one here was making too much noise. I could barely daydream the time away with the incessant moaning"

Ludociel looked from Meliodas to the bandit held up in his arms. He did not reprimand him for stepping out of line, or even for stepping into a post that was not his. He motioned for him to drop the man. Meliodas dropped him carelessly, a loud scream of pain erupting from him as his wrists took the brunt of his weight once again.

"Please, leave the vermin to the ones assigned to him." Ludociel said uncompassionately, scoffing as he said the word 'vermin'. "My brother has been looking for you. It's time to head out."

"Of course, Sir." He saluted, clicking his heels together at attention before heading out the door. He didn't once look back, but he already knew Ludociel was not following after him. The faint murmuring of chatter echoed through the door he had just come from, soon replaced with a gut wrenching scream.

He did not turn back.

Ban whistled through the sleepy halls of the garrison, listening to the eerie sounds echo back at him in an offbeat tune. He had just returned from his patrol of a nearby town, spending the rest of the remaining sunlit hours at it's bar. Needless to say, time moved very differently to a drunk, and by the time he had left the moon was already high in the sky.

His armor slacked against itself as he stumbled along, having loosened its fit to make it more comfortable. His head was beginning to pound with the beginnings of a hangover, his bed calling to him like a siren's song. If he was lucky, maybe the courier had arrived with a new letter from home.

He grinned like a madman imagining what his love would have written to him this time. What tales she had to recount, what she had eaten for dinner that was especially delicious - anything she could say would capture his imagination and set butterflies in his stomach. Elaine's face lighting up as she chewed thoughtfully, perhaps her brow furrowed in frustration as she struggled with some ancient text. Maybe she would have convinced her brother to allow her to marry this time.

Lost in his thoughts, Ban hardly noticed as Ludociel stalked through the halls ahead of him. His superior halted in his tracks, face locked in a seemingly permanent scowl as he spun on his heel to address Ban. He saluted him, continuing to whistle, but not stopping in his beeline towards his room.

"Soldier." Ludociel said sternly as he stepped in front of Ban, blocking him from moving any further. "It is well past any acceptable time to be returning."

Ban chuckled heartily, throwing an arm haphazardly around his superior's shoulders. "Come on, Cap'n! Think of it this way - at least I came back!"

He erupted in a fit of laughter. The humour was lost on Ludociel, who simply shrugged Ban off of him and continued on his way. Whatever he had wanted to say to him was now long forgotten.

"The courier came by today." Ludociel said annoyed before he turned the corner. "Since it took you so long to come back, I had them leave the letters in your room."

Slightly sobered by the promise of Elaine's sweet writings, Ban waved off Ludociel before rushing off towards his room. He nearly slammed the door off of it's hinges when he got there, rushing towards his desk which, as promised, held a number of parchment letters sealed with colourful, pressed wax.

Ban snatched up the pile of letters eagerly, shifting through each one. One from his sister, his mother, some addressed from bars of various towns, others threats and IOU's. Finally, he recognized the swooping lettering that could be from no one but Elaine. He tossed the other letters back on his desk, kicking his feet up as he plopped on his bed, letter pressed to his chest.

The letters scattered on his desk, a single piece of paper from Meliodas drifting peacefully to the ground underneath.