They walked in silence to the Askran palace. Averill, with his eyes fixed on the guiding Felicia's back, cared not for conversation. Tiki, filled with thoughts spurred by their time in the market, dared not break his focus with more idle curiosity. Felicia led them away from the market street, up the roads winding away from the city proper, towards the palace rising above the rest of the realm. Their barracks dwelled in its shadow, the resplendent reach of Askran architecture in full view wherever they walked, but never had Averill considered that he might see the inside so soon.

Much like the Order's own halls, the palace shone with white-gold standards, each bearing the mark of the Askran kingdom. They lined the hall leading to the throne room, great banners of fine cloth embroidered with gold thread. Guards stood tirelessly at regular intervals, each adorned with a crest marking their station, and a spear sharp enough to enforce it. On the walls, in portraits as tall as he, stood proud men and women; rulers of the eons before.

Averill grinned. Tiki, at his side, noticed this and spoke in hushed tones. "Have you met royalty before?"

"What? No – nobles, once or twice. Never met a king before."

"Pray, do as I do when we are admitted into the throne room."

He made a noise somewhere between "Mm," and "Uhuh," his eye wandering still about the hall. Tiki kept her eyes forward, meeting Alfonse's at the far end of the hall. He smiled, nudging Anna to grasp her attention from a talk with one of the guards. They met just before the great doors of the throne room, each one beautifully carved with Askran designs. "What's this about?" asked Averill, folding his arms.

Anna thanked Felicia, dismissing her before addressing the hyur. Her part complete, she wasted no time escaping from their presence, heels clicking frantically as she balanced a polite walk and speedy retreat. "Are you in the habit of petrifying everyone you meet?"

"Not usually. I can't help how I look."

"Were your appearance the only issue…" Anna grumbled, massaging the bridge of her nose. "We summoned you here to speak with His Majesty regarding your arrival, and the realm you were summoned from."

Averill looked over Anna's shoulder to Alfonse, fidgeting quietly a mere step away. "Why do you need me to talk about that?"

"It is traditional for new Heroes to meet with King Gustav," Tiki added, "'Tis a formality, yes, but a necessary one – by his leave do we serve Askr, and by his grace are our binding Contracts kept from exploitation."

Averill grumbled, a mixture of disappointment and inconvenience warping his expression. Anna sighed, tempering her patience. "It won't be long. Alfonse, will you brief them whilst I brief the King?"

Alfonse broke from his distraction, clearing his throat. "Of course."

Anna departed, escorted inside the throne room by one of the guards. Averill fixated on Alfonse, who continued to refuse his eye. "You look about as happy as I feel."

"Yes, well…" The prince began, crossing his arms and steeling himself to countenance Averill's mangled visage. "It is a little more than your meeting the King that brings us here."

To Averill's surprise, Tiki asked before he did. She spoke over him. "What is it?"

"As – Tiki, as you know – it's customary for us to search the archives regarding the realms of new Heroes. Given the manner of his arrival – your arrival, sorry – we wanted to find out if Askr has encountered Eorzean Heroes before."

Tiki glanced to Averill, who sold his expression to stoicism. "And?" He rasped.

"We didn't find anything," Alfonse replied quickly, "Or, rather, there was nothing to find. Askr has no record of ever meeting Eorzea, not in the millenia since its founding."

"Not a single record?" she confirmed, "Then that would mean-"

"Yes," nodded Alfonse, voice taken by a sudden reverence; and with it, like a creeping shadow, the same wariness that beset Felicia, "Averill is from a realm Askr has never reached before."

"Then I might rest knowing you've not ripped another from hearth and home."

Tiki's suffering smile earned a small look from Alfonse. Unapologetic, Averill looked to the door. "If you do not wish to be here…" the prince prompted, trailing off.

"Nay – I'm here. Might as well meet the man behind it all. How long must we wait?"

"Anna should be finished briefing him. I'll check."

Alfonse ventured into the throne room, leaving Tiki and Averill to a weighted silence. As it became apparent that the prince had joined whatever conversation delayed Anna, for they could here naught beyond the ancient doors, the hyur cleared his throat and began to speak. "What's he like?"

"The King?" Tiki clarified. He nodded. "He loves his people, treasures his family. The war might tax a lesser man, but King Gustav stands firm at the heart of the conflict."

His arms began to unfurl. "Met a few, have you?"

"Less than a handful. Why?"

"Less than a handful…" he whispered, stifling a laugh. "How does he compare?"

"Very different times and very different circumstances surround their histories. 'Twould be unfair to judge them."

"You're too kind."

"Perhaps it is you who is too sharp," she mused, "Do you judge yourself as harshly as you judge others?"

"Please," Averill grumbled, "I'm the worst of the bunch."

"Is that right?"

"Of course," he shrugged, "I labour under no delusions. Next to yourself, the others, I'm just another sword to be swung."

Tiki's smile faded. She looked down the hall, towards the palace exit and the barracks beyond. "Such is the way you wish to be seen, is it?"

"Does this matter?" Averill replied, his voice rippling with frustration. He began to itch his chest.

"Yes."

"No." He corrected, sighing, "No it doesn't."

"It matters to me." Tiki pressed, stepping closer. "Must you paint yourself in such shades? What do you gain by cutting yourself away from all civility?"

"Peace and bloody quiet, that's what." Averill growled. He matched her stare, straightened his back, glaring down with a deepening scowl. "Give me the silence of the wilds and the peace of one day – just one – without some child cowering as they would from a monster. That's all I need."

"Truly?"

"Truly!" He snapped, hearing the creak of the throne room's doors too late.

Anna cleared her throat, fixing them both with a look that bordered on murderous. "Are you quite finished with the bickering?"

"Aye." Averill snarled, relaxing fists he didn't realise he'd clenched. He tore from Tiki's scrutiny, pushing into the throne room. The manakete, after a quiet apology and a brief farewell, tore from the hall and strode from the palace.

Anna rolled her eyes, following Averill in. The inside of the throne room continued the trend of the rest of the palace, decorated with white-gold standards and gorgeous artwork. The throne dominated the room, at the crest of a long crimson carpet and carved from radiant marble, its arms the claws of a prideful, ancient white dragon sculpted to watch over those who entered the seat of Askr's power.

In that seat, in quiet discussion with his heir, sat Gustav. A tall man, stern-browed and broad-shouldered, clad in armour emblazoned with Askr's symbol. Such was the only decoration, though; the rest seemed perfectly battle-ready, as did the elegant blade resting against the arm of the throne. Indeed, if Tiki was to be believed, he could well have walked from the frontlines for this meeting alone. In him he saw Alfonse's steady temperament and Sharena's passionate fervour, each forged with experience the pair could only dream of achieving. Averill opened his stance, walking alongside Anna until they reached the foot of the stairs.

"My liege," said the Commander, saluting and bowing low, "May I present Averill Rooks, the Hero recently summoned from Eorzea."

Gustav ceased his conversation with Alfonse, looking down from the throne to the returning soldier and newly-arrived hyur. Showing deference, Anna did not notice what the others saw straight away. Alfonse frowned. "Averill, it is common courtesy to bow before royalty."

"Your royalty." Averill shrugged. Anna turned on the hyur, her eyes a blazing tangle of anger and horrified bewilderment. Gustav said nothing.

"Averill, you-!"

"Anna," he interrupted, tone even, matter-of-fact. "I am not Askran, and he is not my king."

"Even still, you walk our halls! Is a little respect so much to ask?"

"You ask for fealty, not respect. Does this meeting hang on so small a gesture?"

"No," spoke the king, raising a hand when she made to protest. "Peace, Commander. He speaks the truth."

The corner of Averill's mouth twitched upwards. Gustav swept from the top of the steps down to their level, crossing the gap in a few short strides. He towered head-and-shoulders over the hyur, a soul in full control of the might gifted to him. "My son and Anna have told me much, Hero of Eorzea."

"I'm not a Hero."

"Pray, do not misunderstand – in our tongue, you are. Such is the way our kingdoms have referred to those of the worlds beyond our own for eons. In the way that you might call us Askrans, or you might call a dragon a dragon – a Hero is a Hero."

Averill shifted, making to cross his arms, but Gustav only smiled. The warmth of a father spread across his grave complexion. "If the semantics trouble you so," he continued, "Shall we dispense with the formalities? No king or Hero, we – but Averill and Gustav. Will that set you at ease?"

Anna and Alfonse shared an awed glance as the consummate contrarian, standing in apparent defiance wherever they tread, simply nodded. Gustav offered a hand which Averill accepted, grasping firm and shaking once. "My son tells me there is naught in our archives about your realm, Averill. Though rare, 'tis not without precedent – the circumstances heralding your arrival, on the other hand…"

"What circumstances?"

"A rare confluence of events marked your summoning. The use of Breidablik, sealed away for many a year in the care of the Order; our current resurgent war with Embla; and the pillar of light announcing your arrival. In the full lifetime I've lived in service to Askr, never have I seen a Hero arrive in the manner you did."

Averill folded his arms, saddled with the burden borne purely by chance. He recalled the rumours of the citizenry, the title they'd foisted upon him. The Warrior of Light… "How is it Askr came into such a power?" He inquired, not for a moment hiding his curiosity. "Traversing worlds as easily as one might open a door – where I'm from, such magicks are almost impossible."

"The answer to your question lies at the heart of Askr's founding myth, and is a tale too long for our current climate. I'm sure Alfonse can delight you with the details – for the moment, suffice it to say that it is a blessing of the one who forged Askr in their image."

"Very well." Averill conceded. "Why did you call me here?"

Gustav shook his head. "This meeting was the request of my son. He believed, quite rightly, that we should not discuss matters pertaining to you and your allegiances without you here."

Averill leaned to look past the king, recognising Alfonse's request with a small nod. "What is there to discuss? I've been summoned, I've agreed to fight. Have you cause to doubt me?"

"Nay," assured Gustav, "You are a foreign soul, but a straightforward one. I believe your intent is genuine – what's more, you have already fought to protect my son, and for that you have my gratitude."

"Aye, well." Averill shrugged. "'Twas Chrom's action, more than mine, that spared him a grisly end."

"Your actions will speak louder than your modesty in these halls," spoke the king, taking to his throne, "Having tended the matter at hand, I wonder if you might lend your ear to the request of Askr's king?"

"You speak to me as king now?"

"I speak with you." Gustav clarified, "And ask a simple enough question; what do you make of Askr?"

Averill contemplated this. Had Tiki not taken him into the city proper, there would be no answer beyond the battles he'd fought and his brief experience in the Order. Seeing the city, the citizenry, most importantly, he found his answer rather easily. "I believe when they wake from their delusion, 'twill be a dark day for you and yours."

"Delusion?" asked Anna, brow furrowed.

"The war is far away. Battles on the border. Reports from lands further afield of a force howling at the gates." Averill continued, scratching the back of his neck, "But it will not stay that way. When the war takes them by the throat, when the horror knocks on their door…"

Gustav considered his words. For the first time in their conversation, he lost his geniality, adopting a ponderous frown. "That is what we're here for," Alfonse protested, "The Order-"

"-has failed." Averill cut in. "Don't fool yourself, lad. Embla's already breached your borders. You saw enemy Heroes so close to our gates, 'twas a miracle they were not prepared for the invasion. These are the last lines of your defence, and if we're careless, these will be the last days of Askr."

"Yours is a ferocious candour," Gustav mused, looking to Anna and Alfonse for confirmation. Anna, on the whole unimpressed by the hyuran's approach, merely folded her arms; Alfonse avoided his father's gaze, "But it seems you speak something close to the truth. How would you suggest we proceed?"

"You have tacticians and generals for such counsel." Averill replied, shaking his head, "I have survived wars – never fought in them."

"Are you not a soldier?"

"I'm what Eorzeans call an adventurer. Free men and women of every stripe, beholden to no purpose but their own. We go where we please and do as we wish, within the tolerance of the law. Without, for some." The hyur stared up at the king. "I might fight, and my strength serves in the defence of your realm, but smarter men than I guide the grander schemes. Ask Robin or Chrom, or the good Commander."

Gustav sat on his throne, leaning forward to pierce the hyur with a leader's stare. Averill kept his stance open, his gaze firm. He'd seen the look before – those trying to pierce the monstrous veil, peel back the scars to find the man underneath. The king hummed, apparently content, and slowly nodded. "I see. Then, if not your counsel, might I ask for one more answer?"

"I have neither the reason nor the ability to deny your asking."

"You have met with the people of Askr, fought with their Heroes. Until now, your Contract has been a matter undiscussed, your volition assumed. As protector of the realm and servant to her people, I ask – will you help us?"

"I've answered that already."

"No – you have but recited the conditions of your Contract. Your strength serves Askr, as the eldest magicks of our realm dictate, and the Order has your allegiance, but you have not answered me. Will you accept the plea of this struggling nation, and lend your sword to its defence?"

"You know the answer – why do you care if I say it?"

"Answer the question, Rooks." Anna's weary demand sparked a grin, which he quickly stifled. The king closed his eyes, beginning to explain:

"In a way, our people are much like you. We began as adventurers, explorers of realms alongside our Emblian brothers and sisters, and long have we held freedom in the highest regard. You are bound by Askr's Contract, yes, but it need not be so. Should you demand your freedom, it will be granted and secured by my power as king. I ask for your help because undoubtedly, we need it; you have seen it yourself. But it must be by choice. Not by duty or by circumstance. You must choose to help us – such is the right of those who possess a Hero's power."

As he listened, Alfonse saw the hyur's face change. He took on a peculiar expression, recollection buried in surprise, like he had opened a journal to a page he had no memory of writing. Gustav, too, saw it and gave Averill time to respond. He did so after a long, thoughtful silence. "Would you send me home if I refused?"

"If you so wished."

"Sire!" Anna protested; a swift hand cut her off.

"No questions asked?" asked Averill.

"You may leave without fear of judgement or repercussion. Far be it from any of us to begrudge a soul shorn from its home for wishing to return."

"Aye. Aye…" He folded his arms, good eye closing for one final moment, before he spoke again, "I'll fight. I've seen one empire tear through my home. 'Twould be wrong of me to let another tear through yours."

The king smiled, bowing his head. "You have my thanks. Fight well, Averill. I daresay we shall have great need of your strength in the days to come."

"Aye," he nodded; and then, to Anna, "Am I dismissed?"

"Yes," she replied all to quickly, in a sharp breath betraying anger restrained. She released the rest when the door closed behind him. "Good grief…"

"He is rather different to the others." Gustav chuckled, his eyes on the door. "You've grown too used to a knight's etiquette, Anna."

"All he wants to do is fight and disagree!" the commander exclaimed, ending on a huff, "Forgive me, sire. Perhaps I am struggling with him."

"Perhaps he knows he can get a rise out of you." Gustav suggested, with a warm smile in his son's direction. "When you two were much younger, your sister would oft behave the same."

Alfonse flushed red at the mention of his childhood, causing the king to break into laughter. "That doesn't seem relevant."

"It is perfectly relevant – to the pair of you. Perhaps our Eorzean adventurer is testing the boundaries he is so accustomed to lacking."

"Maybe. We'll see." Anna sighed. "Tiki and Chrom seem to get more than two decent words out of him, but he's managed to rile her, too."

"Give him time," Gustav concluded. His tone shifted, taking on a harsher command. "Now, Commander. Let us continue with the council…"

The Gate stood tall, proud, silent. Tiki sat before it, her mind far away as her eyes absently trailed the designs carved into the stone. She followed every curve, thoughts turning as they did, contemplation twisting into reverie, into pensiveness. Knees drawn up to her chest, hugged close by the wrap of her arms, she wondered in the shifting breeze, the roar of her previous company long-faded into a plaguing whisper.

She heard the footsteps of approaching Heroes but did not turn until they made themselves known, locking herself up with her thoughts for a moment longer, if only to glean some clarity from the mist.

Chrom cleared his throat, the death knell of her distraction, "There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know."

Tiki rose, masking her sigh with a sweep of her cape. She smiled when she faced him. "Is there? I wasn't sure."

He mirrored her expression, accepting the invitation to stand before the Gate. "Are you here for the summoning?"

"No – so soon?"

"We have the Orbs, and our lack of numbers is felt most keenly." Chrom sighed. "Whilst we wait for word from Matthew, there is naught to do but shore up our strength, make ready. If we can summon, we should not wait."

"Is that so wise?" Tiki inquired, holding one arm with her hand, gaze slipping. "Given the sentiment that troubled our last attempt…"

"Even Averill has accepted the necessity of our plight." Chrom turned from the Gate to its other watcher, trying to assuage the manakete. "Besides – he is surely the exception, not the rule."

"Or good fortune has graced our every summoning," came the whispered rebuke, "Just because a thing has been one way does not mean it should be so."

"Hm…" Chrom found no answer for her, and so changed the subject, "Speaking of our errant newcomer…?"

"He meets with the king."

"You didn't go with him?"

"I did-" Tiki began, "At least, I should have liked to. He made his company rather difficult."

"Oh?" Chrom smirked, "That seems most unlike him."

She rolled her eyes, easing into a smile as she recounted their visit to the city to Chrom. "I know not what troubles him so about their title, but his discomfort around the citizenry achieved quite the opposite of what I intended – and when we spoke of it, 'twas as if he was aware of his supposed impact on others, rather than any distress suffered from being in a crowd."

"Not everyone sees past scars so easily." Chrom suggested, "And not everyone is comfortable around others of different stripes. He reminds me of Lon'qu, in a way."

Tiki remembered Lon'qu, the proud swordsman, and in doing so began to see Chrom's point. "Did I ever tell you what he said when he first joined the Shepherds?" asked he. She shook her head. "His services were offered by the West-Khan for our campaign against the Mad King. When I asked if he was comfortable with the arrangement, he said only this; 'He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear.'"

The old comrades shared a laugh in a memory from a world away, and Tiki felt the pangs of longing more keenly than she ever had before Averill laid them bare. "Tiki-" Chrom began, "I know what you're going to say, but…"

"I cannot," she replied, gripping her arm tighter, "I cannot, Chrom. 'Tis a miracle that we should meet like this, before your time, but if we are ever to return to our world, your future must remain thus."

"If I can spare my people – spare Emm – one day of pain, just one…"

"Chrom," Tiki whispered, shaking her head more fiercely, "Please."

As quickly as it had arrived, the laughter failed to grim silence. Chrom balled his fist but relented. "Is Lykala ready?" asked she, gentle.

"I'll go check."

Chrom span to leave, his step hesitating for a moment before he committed. Tiki bowed her head, eyes closed.

"So it's not just places people get ripped from."

Mint eyes snapped open again. Averill, the source of Chrom's pause, approached. "When did you return?"

"Just now. That sounded important." He gestured to the back of the departing Shepherd. Tiki's shoulders slumped.

"We share a world, but as you say – we are not of the same time. The Chrom I know is from his future, near the end of his journey. Every private moment we share, he asks – begs – to know how he might walk such a path better…"

"You think he's beholden to the path you've seen him walk?"

"I know that if any one trial is not suffered, one victory changed, one battle avoided, it might irrevocably change our world for the worse. And I will not speak of it to anyone, lest you think of asking."

"Never crossed my mind." Averill shrugged. "Your choice is yours, and his destiny is his."

"Precisely." She turned to him, unsmiling, eyes searching. "How was your meeting with the king?"

"I think Anna might make an attempt on my life after it – but the man himself was fine. He must be loved."

"What did you do?"

Averill flashed with feigned offence. "What did I do?"

"You certainly implied your fault in her ire – or is this her general rage being directed towards your life?"

"Wouldn't be the first time – but nay, not for the moment. I didn't bow when she wanted me to."

"I can see why that might irk her." Tiki mused. "She stands on few ceremonies, our Commander, but her respect for King Gustav is absolute. What did you speak of?"

"A few things. Apparently Askr has no records of Eorzea, or its champions. I'm the first to be summoned."

"Is that so?"

"Aye. Surprised they didn't ask more about it, actually."

"If I know Alfonse's curiosity, he will not be able to help himself."

"Aye. Time will tell – at the least, if you find my corse upon the morn, you'll know who to search for the knife."

"Duly noted." A wind whipped between them, rustling Tiki's hair. She fussed with it as she contemplated her next words. "Have you calmed from our time in the city?"

"Calmed?"

"You seemed most troubled by our trip. 'Twas not my intent to disturb you."

"It wasn't your fault. If I fell to rancour every time someone called me something I disliked, we'd most likely never have this conversation. Guess I never expected to hear it so far from home."

"That title?" A nod. Tiki took his calm as her opportunity. "What does it mean to you?"

"It…" Averill looked around. "They are heroes, in the truest sense of the word. Adventurers of every stripe who stepped up in our darkest hours to spare us from calamity. 'Tis no mere title to pass upon to an idiot who gets summoned. A Warrior of Light earns the name, through tireless effort and painful sacrifice."

"Have you not done so?" she asked, "By your scars…"

"These?" Averill gestured roughly to his mangled visage, "Nay. These are lessons. Mistakes. I have suffered such wounds in selfish pursuits and reckless ventures, not from saving the realm. The idea that I could ever be called a Hero tickles me."

Tiki closed her eyes, wondering what kind of mistakes cost a man so much of the handsome stride of his youth. "However you earned them before," she concluded, nodding firmly, "You fought to protect Alfonse's life – Chrom's too, against Embla's Heroes. That is heroism enough for me."

He scoffed. Tiki confronted him, turning his way to ensure his attention. "'Tis true! Your actions speak ever louder than your claims."

Averill's derision softened. Faced with a plea so earnest, he felt his blood stir and his smile grow into a kindly curl. It warmed him so, filled his scars and wound back the savage toll of time. "It matters not," he spoke, quiet, "Whatever my actions, I am what I am. I made my peace with it a long time ago."

"Averill…"

"It's alright." he chuckled, "That you try so to convince me warms the heart, it does. I've never known a beautiful woman so convinced of my virtues, but you need not force it. Let us be about our business without such tired distractions, eh? Surely there are more interesting things than how the world chooses to see one tired, mangled vagrant."

The manakete sighed. Where the swell of his warmth gave Averill more of his youth back, the draining of hers wound her eyes forward. The hyur marvelled as eyes far older than even her tired smile suggested met his. "As you wish."

"Come on, now…" He began, too late in his attempt to assuage. Tiki stood, rising to meet those who joined them now. She directed Averill to their presence.

Chrom, Lykala, Anna. All approached in a line, the summoner between his protectors, and in his hand sat a relic of most curious design. Tiki bowed her head.

"It's time."