Thanks for the reviews!

It's time to clarify my formatting: Full italics signify that the paragraph is part of a flashback. In other cases, I use italics either for thoughts (full sentences) or for emphasis. I hope it's made sense so far.

Apparently, paragraphs ending with "))" now have that suffix automatically removed. Who is this supposed to help?


-Chris-

Chris stopped tapping her finger against her forehead when she heard the tent flap move and turned her head to see an unfamiliar woman enter the room.

"Milady, my name is Jena," she said. The accompanying curtsey was far from perfect, but her shoulder-length brown hair was beautifully arranged in two flat braids.

"Where is Sophia?" Chris wondered, twisting in the leather folding chair.

"She has returned home to deliver her sister's child, milady. She asked me to attend to you in the meanwhile," the woman explained.

"I see." Inwardly, Chris sighed. ((She looks like she might platter incessantly. I already miss Sophia,)) she thought. She felt a pang of irritation. ((Why did she not see me before she left?)) Sophia had been there when she arrived at the knights' camp on the Amur Plains the previous night, and had assisted her with the much needed cleaning of her clothes and armor—not to mention her own hygiene. That she was suddenly gone made Chris' spirits sink further, fixed as she was on Louis' recovery and the guilt she felt for how she had treated Hugo. ((Not that he does not deserve a good lesson. That boy is far too thoughtless and reckless.)) Being without both squire and attendant was uncomfortable; she did not like the feeling of Jena's hands in her hair as the maid braided her newly washed silver locks.

"Perhaps you don't remember me, milady; I served as Sir Galahad's chamber maid before his tragic death," Jena said.

"Truly?" Chris mumbled.

"That's right! Milady, you see, I had the good fortune of…" Jena droned on. Chris did her best to shut out the words spoken in order to save herself the pain of each syllable slamming against her mind. Her headache had returned, and it had intensified, if possible. As captain, Chris' duties were myriad in face of the truce negotiations, and the simple matter of how to arrange the delegation had already wrought complications. Despite herself, Chris found Jena's wordless drone calming, and as she sank into a welcome half-sleep, her mind wandered into the past…

Chris stalked across the courtyard with her fists rigid against her thighs. She tried to still her rage, but her emotions had spiraled well beyond her control, and the boisterous laughter of the squires assembled around the colonnade she had left behind fueled her anger.

She had gotten about halfway through the connecting corridor when she heard a stern voice. "You allow them to rile you much too easily."

Chris turned with a start. Before her stood none other than Sir Galahad, the Captain of the Knights. Even in the privacy of the knights' quarters around the high noon of a sunny day, he had opted to don the full raiment of a knight. It occurred to Chris that somehow—through sheer stubbornness, perhaps—he seemed unaffected by the midday heat.

"Milord!" she exclaimed, saluting hurriedly. "You surprised me."

He walked towards her slowly. "Why do you let their words affect you?" he wondered.

"Milord, why shouldn't I? They don't respect me!"

"Why should they respect you?" he retorted.

Chris stared at him. ((What does he mean? Is he saying I don't deserve respect?)) "Sir Galahad… Do you believe I'm cut out to be a knight?" she asked dejectedly.

"That is not my question to answer," he said. "Do you believe that you would make a fine knight?"

Frowning, Chris let her gaze run across the marble floor tiles. ((Would I?)) she wondered. "It's my desire to be a knight, like my father. I'll do what it takes, even if they never come to respect me," she said. She raised her eyes as she spoke and met Sir Galahad's gaze stubbornly.

"Then hear me out," the captain said, tapping his gauntleted fingers against the back of his wrist. "Anyone can master the sword and call herself a warrior. Three things, however, separate a knight from a common thug. Name those three things."

Chris was taken aback by the question, and the anger faded rapidly as she pondered her answer. ((What kind of answer does he want to hear? Should I know this? Sir Feren hasn't said anything of this…)) She opted for honesty. "I don't know, milord."

"Make a guess," he commanded.

"Dedication… strength… and honor," she said slowly. She looked at him intently, trying to gauge his immediate reaction to her words.

Sir Galahad smiled slightly. "Strength is a result of dedication. Honor is a part of something more important. But yes, dedication is correct. The true answer is dedication—in order to become a skillful knight; devotion—to the people under your care; and dignity—to make others admire you."

"I did not come here to be admired, milord," Chris said defiantly.

"Then you came to the wrong place," Sir Galahad said. "A knight's duty is to her people, and that duty includes an obligation to ensure that the knighthood survives. The knight, through conduct and appearance, inspires children to aspire to become knights themselves. None of us will live forever."

Chris anxiously shifted her weight from her right to her left leg as she considered the captain's words. "What does that mean for me?" she wondered.

Sir Galahad shook his head. "You should understand, and you will, once you think about it. The mere image of a knight should instill pride into the hearts of all Zexens. You have the face of a lady, yet you speak like a boy and act like a tomboy."

"But milord," Chris protested, "I want to be a knight, not a fragile doll!"

Sir Galahad snorted. "You do not know what you speak of. You were born with the curse of beauty, and these boys will never respect you unless you act in a manner they expect of you."

"The curse of… what?" Chris said in confusion. She frowned. "I won't act for anyone!" ((This is stupid! Even if he's the captain, this is just stupid!)) she thought.

"Playing a role does not have to be constricting, if you can choose your own part," Sir Galahad said.

Chris looked at the floor. "I don't know if… if it's something I can do." ((I'm not cut out for this. But… I can't give up on it. There's nothing I'd rather do,)) she resolved.

"Oh? If you change your mind, perhaps you would like to take up the duties of a squire."

"W-what? Milord… I do, but…" she sputtered. She searched Sir Galahad's face, but he seemed naught but sincere, and his features betrayed no emotion. ((I can't give up this chance.)) She drew a deep breath. "I've… I have changed my mind. I will give it my all."

"Excellent," Sir Galahad said. "Leo is more than prepared to take his vows; I shall need a new squire, then."

"What! Milord, what're you saying?" Chris gaped in surprise.

Sir Galahad laughed. "I will not settle for a half-hearted squire. Are you sure?"

Chris immediately sank to a knee and lowered her head. "I swear it. Milord, I will not let you down."

"We shall make a knight out of you yet," her captain promised.

Jena's voice snapped Chris back into the present. "There, Lady Chris! All done. You have such beautiful hair… I would positively kill for such silvery locks…" She sighed foppishly. "You should wear your hair down more often, though I don't know if you'd like to be held responsible for what it'd do to the men…" Jena laughed.

Chris stood up and stretched her shoulders. "Thank you for your assistance, Jena," she said simply. ((Save me from her prattle, please.)) Without another word, she ducked underneath the tent flap and stepped out of her pavilion and into the camp.

-Hugo-

The wind sang through the streets of Vinay as Hugo and his friends approached the Guild Hall. It ruffled Hugo's hair, and the voice of the wind spirits made him feel a great measure of relief for the fact that the ironheads had found no method of keeping them out of their city, as they had with the poor earth spirits beneath. ((They'll be punished in time, without a doubt,)) he comforted himself.

As the three of them drew closer, Hugo could see that there was some sort of commotion at the front door. The stone steps that led up to the building were occupied not just by a pair of guards, but also by three people that Hugo had to assume were foreigners. Though the two men—one of whom had the strangest dark skin tone—were wearing identical garments that suggested some manner of occupation or clanship, the young woman was dressed in the most flamboyant manner. She had to use one hand to hold onto her hat in the breeze, but she used her other hand to punctuate her words as she spoke to the guards. She seemed furious, and Hugo could tell that the guardsmen were at the edge of their patience.

"I wonder what that's about," Lulu said.

Sergeant Joe shook his head. "That's really none of our concern, Lu. We'd better not get involved."

"Well, it looks like she's got about as much love for the ironheads as we do," Hugo chuckled.

"She strikes me as a person who doesn't have much love for anyone," Sergeant Joe pointed out.

Just as her associates managed to physically restrain and drag the young lady from her perch on the top of the stairs, Hugo stepped up in her place and addressed the guardsmen.

"I'm Hugo, son of Chief Lucia of the Karayans," he informed them. "I've brought a message from Chief Lucia to the Zexen Council."

The guardsmen shared a look before one of them—a man with a strangely trimmed mustache—spoke up. "You'll have to wait. The council's too busy to see you."

"What!" Hugo burst out.

"Hugo," Sergeant Joe warned.

"The council is preoccupied. You'll have to wait, like everyone else," the guard explained.

"Rubbish!" Hugo exclaimed. "This message is from Chief Lucia! Didn't you hear me?"

"We heard you well enough," the other guard said. "The council doesn't have time. Maybe you didn't hear what we said."

Hugo's fingers twitched as he struggled to remain calm. ((Alright, there's no reason to get angry. Just tell them how it is,)) he thought.

"Isn't the council taking the truce seriously?" he demanded to know. "Chief Lucia speaks for all Karayans. Don't you want to damn war to end?"

The guards frowned, and the man on the left seemed to grow furious at Hugo's words. He twisted his grip on the spear in his hand, but remained silent. It was the mustached man who spoke up. "That's council business; it's none of our concern. We're just following orders, so you'll have to come back later."

Hugo drew a deep breath and placed his fists on his hips to keep them occupied. "Alright, how long?"

"If you leave your name and where you're staying, the council will contact you when they can fit you in," the guard explained.

"How long is that gonna take?" Hugo asked impatiently.

"A week or two, perhaps. The council is very busy."

"A week!" Hugo asked. He very nearly shouted the words. "That's outrageous!" ((Say that to the spirits. This is absurd!)) Without another word, Hugo turned on his heel and walked down the stairs. He was idly aware of Sergeant Joe's voice as his friend stepped up to the guards to speak with them. ((The message has got to be delivered, but a week? Or more… no, that's just impossible. Mother will be furious to hear this, and I don't know if I can wait that long before returning home,)) he mused.

"What're we gonna do, Hugo?" Lulu wondered as he walked up to stand next to him.

"I don't know, Lu. A week's way too long," he answered. Hugo's eyes roamed to the side, and he found himself watching the extravagantly dressed young lady shout at her visibly apologetic comrades. Her long brown hair flittered in the winds, and she had to keep brushing strands out of her face as she spoke.

"—two days! How dare they make me wait for two days!" she screamed.

((Two days?)) Hugo thought. Turning to Lulu, he smiled slightly. "I've got an idea."

The look that Lulu gave him was hardly encouraging, but Hugo ignored it.

"Hello," he said as he approached the woman. "I'm Hugo, the—"

She turned in one swift motion to regard him, and the fury written on her face was replaced with a self-confident smirk even as her companion cringed. "It must be a pleasure for you to meet me," she said. "I am Lilly Pendragon—yes, that Pendragon." The smug look on her face seemed to suggest that Hugo should know the name.

He never found the opportunity to properly introduce himself.

-Chris-

The intricate silliness of pride, respect and leadership was giving Chris a headache—well, she already had a headache, but it was magnified. As Salome had pointed out, the Grasslanders, while present in full force, would consider it an insult to send all of their leaders to meet with the knights. The barbarians well knew who the true leaders of Zexen were, and would not submit to the indignity of appearing weak before their enemies. Therefore, Salome had used great tact in arranging for a single leader from their camp to meet with a single of theirs—the only one that the barbarians would respect, as he put it. Chris sighed, and stepped into the pavilion at the heart of the plains.

The tent seemed cavernous for a mere two people; the woman sitting on the goose down cushions near the center somehow managed to appear large in spite of this. She was a tall woman, dressed in a skin-tight black fabric that left only her feet, hands and muscular shoulders bared. Around her bosom and waist, a colorful dress ending in a half-skirt was tightened against her body by a patterned bronze girdle decorated with rainbow tassels. She wore sandals, and bronze bands covered the black cloth over her ankles and wrists, while a separate collar sheltered her neck. A band of cloth held her silky blonde hair away from her face. Altogether, the outfit seemed outlandish to Chris.

Chris had studied Chief Lucia closely as she walked towards the ring of pillows at the center of the pavilion. While she attempted to find a comfortable way to sit, she smiled slightly at the Grasslander. ((How can she appear so stately while sitting in such a casual manner?)) Chris grumbled. ((I must seem stiff,)) she thought.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," Chris said, bowing her head ever so slightly. It was a formality; a slight measure of respect that Salome had suggested.

"Thank you, as well," Lucia complied. The smile on the woman's face suggested that she knew something that others did not. It was the kind of smile that irritated Chris.

"Let us rejoice for the fact that we are able to meet here today," Chris said, cautiously omitting the mention of the Goddess. She would have preferred to be able to speak freely, but each word spoken was part of a political dance, and until the music stopped, each step had to be in tune.

"Yes," Lucia said. "Let our peoples attempt to live in harmony rather than slaughter each other."

Chris bowed her head in agreement. "Then—"

"You really are as beautiful as they said," Lucia cut her off. "I didn't know that the Zexens allowed their women onto the battlefield," she added. Her upturned lips were indication of derision at the thought.

Realizing that the answer would demand tact, Chris hesitated before replying. When she spoke, she puffed herself up casually. "Most women choose not to fight." ((Rather far from the full truth, but I am not going to fuel her misconceptions of our culture,)) she thought. Irritated with the subject, Chris decided to turn it around. "You are beautiful as well. Besides, are there not more important things for women to aspire to?"

Lucia chuckled. "Agreed," she said. With a nod and a flourish of her hand, she went on. "You're strong, I will admit. It is good to handle this between women, rather than to trust 'manly rationality' to prevail over 'manly impulse.'"

"Yes," Chris agreed, moderating the smile that creased her lips. ((It is better to discuss this with a woman. Men react in unpredictable ways… Just like that insufferable boy.)) "Speaking of which…" she said. "I met a Grasslander, a Karayan, I believe, under the strangest of circumstances while I traveled here. His name is Hugo."

The chieftain's eyebrows rose, but if she was truly surprised, she hid it well. "Oh?"

"Yes..." ((Should I tell her everything? She will likely hear it from the boy when he returns. Still, before we know what has occurred, it will sound like an accusation, and drive a deeper wedge between our people. I am not sure whether this is the correct decision, but I will withhold the full story until the truce is written and signed.)) "There were some misunderstandings, but he and his comrades were safely on their way, last I saw them." ((As far as I know, that is. Well, Salome did say that the duck warrior and the other boy traveled towards Vinay. Hugo would have followed,)) she thought.

"Misunderstandings?" Lucia repeated curiously. Her lips tightened, and a slight frown crept into her features. "I don't like this turn of topics. Should I consider this a threat?" she asked.

Chris gaped in surprise. "What? No! Of course not… I… it was conversational, no more. I thought that perhaps you had an interest in knowing that the trio was on its way."

"Why would I doubt that?" Lucia wanted to know. Her eyes narrowed as she sat straight on her pillows. "You're hiding something, Silver Maiden."

Choosing her words carefully, Chris drew a deep breath. "Of course, you do not need to doubt… But if you would, could you leave a personal message with Hugo, from me?"

"What message?" Lucia wondered.

"Tell him that I apologize, for the way in which I treated him. I was mistaken."

Lucia nearly flew up from her pillows. "What? Have you harmed him!"

"N-no! It was an argument, nothing more!" she tried to assure.

The chieftain's eyes were flaring as she spoke. "If he… if the boys are harmed, there will be no truce."

Chris was taken aback by the steel edge to Lucia's words. "I assure you that no harm will come to the children through the designs of Zexen." ((This is absurd; it should be implied.)) "On my honor as a knight, I swear it. Please, we would do nothing to sully our honor or endanger the truce." The words that she spoke were galling, but she at least avoided using a pleading tone. Inside, she was furious. ((Captain Galahad has not yet been avenged; were it up to me alone, I would demand justice… but for the sake of our people—Zexens and Grasslanders both—the war must end,)) she thought.

Lucia leaned back onto her buttocks and unfolded her legs. "I'll trust you word, Silver Maiden."

"Please do not call me that, Chief Lucia," Chris asked.

Lucia smiled—for a moment, Chris thought that she saw a hint of embarrassment flush her cheeks—and nodded. "As you wish, Lady Chris. Forgive my outburst. So much for my words on male impulses… but this, at least, you will come to understand, one day."

Chris raised an eyebrow, but did not press the subject. ((Better not to touch her pride. I wonder what she means, though. Perhaps another time.)) "Thank you. If you insist on calling me 'Silver Maiden' or other nonsensical things, I shall have to refer to you with some similar names I have heard you called."

The chieftain grinned. "True? Please, what are these names?" she wondered, holding out her palms to Chris.

Chris cleared her throat before she worked up the courage to speak. "Well… the most imposing would be 'Burning Lioness.' Let me think… the tritest one would be 'The Striking Chieftain,' and the most embarrassing one… most likely 'Golden Bosom.'"

Lucia's smile had gone from a tomboyish grin to roaring laughter as Chris spoke.

"Believe me, Chief Lucia, when I say that I have no power over these people," Chris said with a slight smile. "Were it so, I would have them deported—not to the Grasslands, naturally—or at least forbidden to speak," she joked.

"That's hilarious. Perhaps we are not so different, after all… There are other names for you as well—ones I doubt they've said to your face. Interested?" Lucia asked with a mischievous smile.

"In the interest of peace, yes," Chris said with a smile.

Despite Chris' best efforts, her cheeks were burning well before Lucia had finished.

-Hugo-

Although he had been quite proud of his plan in the initial stages of its execution, Hugo was beginning to rue the moment he had approached Lilly. The imperious young woman's passionate behavior was punctuated by a deep strain of self-importance, and each word she spoke seemed chosen either to boast her own achievements or coax words of adoration out of her listeners. Hugo could see how she had obtained such manners; her sycophantic assistants, Samus and Reed, bowed to her every whim, heaping praise upon her at every opportunity given. She was terribly spoiled, and Hugo could barely stand it.

In order to take advantage of the fact that Lilly had an appointment a mere two days into the future, Hugo had convinced the naïve woman that he would make an excellent guide to the sights of Vinay, and with Sergeant Joe's help, he had actually managed to keep up a decent charade as they explored the city together. Though she expressed interest in the prospect of seeing what the city had to offer, Lilly seemed thoroughly unimpressed by everything they had seen so far. In truth, Hugo had been more impressed himself.

After two days of listening to the Lilly's whims, carrying the items she purchased, and taking her verbal abuse, Hugo had finally managed to convince her that his presence would be useful during her meeting with the council. Ostensibly, the reason was that his familiarity with the people of Zexen would prevent her from making any mistakes—an explanation that seemed to sound agreeable to her companions. They had little faith in her diplomatic abilities, and after two days, Hugo was more than prepared to agree.

Just as they approached the Guild Hall, Lilly turned to Hugo. "Now, Hugo, I know that you're a simple boy without training in the fine art of subtlety, but try to behave when we meet the council."

Gritting his teeth, Hugo forced a calm nod. "Sure," he said.

"I'm sure you know a lot about the Zexen ways, but I know what I'm doing, so don't you interrupt me!" She wagged a finger at him to impress the seriousness of her words. The rapier sheathed at her leather-clad hip stood at a straight angle as she strutted with a hand on the hilt. Passersby gave her a wide berth.

"I'm sure," Hugo said.

"Hugo, it's impolite to speak to a lady in that manner! You must call me Miss Pendragon," Lilly said for perhaps the twentieth time.

"Got it," Hugo assured her.

"Oh, and remember to stay a few steps behind me. Servants must try to minimize their presence."

Hugo pressed his lips together in irritation as he nodded. ((Not yet… I'm so close, now. Spirits; it'll have been all in vain if I blow it now.)) "Let's go?" he suggested. Lilly raised no objections.

Hugo kept to the back of the group as they passed through the doors to the Guild Hall, but the guards—a different pair, today—spared him no notice. Lulu and Sergeant Joe had remained at the inn for the duration; there was no sense risking recognition to bring them with him. Without preamble, Lilly marched through the building and ascended the stairs as soon as she was informed of the council's whereabouts. The man who had supplied the information struggled to keep even strides with her. "L-lady Lilly, please!"

"I am going in!" Lilly announced as she pushed the door open. Hugo quickly followed through the open door before anyone tried to stop him.

The council's room was an opulent chamber within which an octagonal table stood. It occurred to Hugo that the piece of furniture must have been constructed at the spot, since it could impossibly fit through the door in any fashion. The table was flanked by as many chairs as it had sides, and seven of these were occupied by men dressed in snobbish Zexen clothes. Assistants scurried around the room as their masters conversed, poring over a mountain of papers. All eyes fell on Lilly as she swaggered into the room. Hugo gripped the rolled-up message underneath his cloak.

"Greetings, good sirs!" Lilly proclaimed. "I am Lilly Pendragon, daughter of President Gustav Pendragon of the Tinto Republic." Samus and Reed filtered into the room and exchanged worried glances as they took their positions at her sides.

"Oh, right," the man at the head of the table said. "We've been expecting you, Miss Pendragon. I am Councilor Rean. Please, have a seat."

"Yes, of course," Lilly agreed, stepping forward to sit down on the carved chair.

"I understand that you have come on behalf of the Tinto Republic to speak about the bandit problem?" Rean queried.

Lilly nodded. "Yes, we have become concerned that you are not doing enough to—"

"Before that," Hugo interrupted, gathering shocked stares from all involved.

"Hugo, how dare you!" Lilly exclaimed. "I must punish you thoroughly for this!"

Hugo continued as though nothing had occurred. "No, you don't," he said firmly. He had suffered her capricious will over the course of two days, but he no longer had to take her abuse. ((Blast, but it feels great to shut her up!)) he mused.

"I'm Hugo, son of Chief Lucia of the Karayans. I've come to deliver a message from Chief Lucia that concerns the truce."

Of the councilors, the man who had introduced himself as Rean seemed the least shocked, but the most annoyed. On the other hand, Lilly's mouth hung open as she gaped at Hugo in bewilderment. Samus and Reed looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Yes…" Rean said at last. "We didn't… expect you quite yet. We have been waiting for Chief Lucia's message." He clasped his hands, feigning a smile.

"So, here you go," Hugo said, leaning over the table to toss the message in Councilor Rean's lap. "Knock yourselves out. I'll give your regards to my mother."

Without a further word, Hugo turned and walked out of the room.

"Hugo…!" he heard Lilly call out.

He kept walking.

-Sarah-

Tapping the power of the Wind Rune in her pocket in order to fan the tunnel's pungent stench from her face, Sarah sighed. "Are you prepared, Yuber?" she asked.

He grinned, tapping his slender blades against each other. "Always," he said.

"Very well," Sarah said. She took a step forward and stared down the tunnel, trying to imagine the twisted path that the passage took on its way to the Great Hollow. ((I am still not convinced that the lizards are the ideal targets for our ruse… but I am not the tactician, I suppose,)) she thought. She turned to look at Yuber. "I will summon the illusions, then…" she said.

"No," he said. His blades swept through the air as he pointed them towards the ground. "Your puppets are useless," he explained with a sneer. "I'll summon something better."

"Do you not think that might be unwise?" Sarah wondered. ((I pray that this fool does not drag us down with him…)) she thought.

Yuber's voice was impassionate as he replied. "This cursed rune begs me to use it…" Rather than elaborating, the dark-clad man activated his True Rune with a flourish. Snaking veins of darkness emanated from his arm as the sigil of the Eightfold Rune appeared before Yuber.

Sarah gave a start as Yuber began to recite. His words were incomprehensible, hailing from some unknown tongue, but each syllable he intoned seemed to tear a gash in the fabric of the world, and caused Sarah to physically stagger. A howling noise rose from thin air as the ground began to boil with shadows in a circle around Yuber. His recitation continued, and thin, vertical lines of black color appeared in the air around him. Each one widened through staggered expansions as he spoke, causing lines to shift to portals. Within each portal, shapes began to materialize in black shadows and lavender light. Sarah stared at the scene that played out before her, and suddenly her mind went blank.

When her sight began to return, she was sitting on the ground. She felt a great confusion, and her vision was blurred as she tried to gain her bearings. She heard a voice, but could trace neither words nor meaning. Feeling the cold stone with her hands, Sarah blinked and tried to focus. She looked up, and saw Yuber's smiling face.

"Humans have such fragile minds," he said. "Not at all accustomed to the World of Emptiness. This world—and everything within it—is fragile… Remember that, little girl."

Sarah pressed her eyelids shut and stood up. She opened her eyes and composed herself to the best of her ability. "Do not exaggerate yourself, beast," she said icily. Glancing around, Sarah saw that a dozen amorphous shadow figures had been summoned through the power of the Eightfold Rune. Their bodies were writhing with black flames, and their skin was fused with pieces of dark armor. She passed her eyes over them, but made sure to avoid lingering on any single one. ((By the True Runes, he caught me off guard. I must not allow this to happen again…)) she resolved.

"I will weave an illusion for you and your pets, then…" she said,

"Must we?" Yuber taunted. The question seemed rhetoric.

Sarah tapped her staff against the rough stone floor. The power of the Chimera Rune mounted in the Water Crystal that capped the staff spread in a sphere of pale light around her. As it passed over the summoned shadows, their shapes altered and took on more solid forms, each one dressed and armed with proper equipment. Yuber seemed to shiver as the rune's influence veiled his true appearance. When the spell had dissipated, Sarah surveyed its lingering effects. The shadows seemed almost eerie in their armor, their faces hidden behind steel helmets. Though she was less than impressed with the details of the illusion, it did not seem likely that anyone would glean the true identity of the soldiers.

Yuber snorted. "I haven't fought with just one sword in a few years," he remarked. "Rather short, aren't I?" His voice, though proper for the illusion, seemed incongruous with his true nature.

Sarah looked at him. In his new shape, he was about her height. "You will get used to it," she said, "Lady Chris."

The shadow knights followed in his footsteps as Yuber took off through the tunnel. Within seconds, she could no longer see his silver hair.

-Bazba-

The Great Hollow was at peace during the restive hour as Bazba swept his tail against the warm stone floor. With the lion's share of the clan's warriors at the truce negotiations, the cavernous chamber was silent. Therefore, it came as an even greater surprise when the silence was broken.

"Kill them all!" the crude voice of a human female called out as the sound of footsteps thundered through the Great Hollow.

Bazba turned, raising his three-bladed glaive in shock. "Who goes there?" he rumbled, running down the slope that connected the terrace with the floor. "To arms!" he called out, waving his clawed hand to rouse his fellow warriors. "Defend the hollow!"

His blood pumped in anger as he saw the intruders who filtered in through the side tunnel. At the mouth of the tunnel, two of his warriors lay slain. "Ironheads! The truce was a lie!" he roared.

"I won't be satisfied until your kind is wiped from the earth," the female said with a laugh as she raised her blood-stained sword. "Time to die, lizard!"

Bazba felt his scales contract at the insult, and he charged with a great bellow, raising his weapon overhead.

The silver-haired knight sidestepped his attack with surprising ease and raised her blade. She made as if to strike, but the attack was a feint. She laughed, jumping to the side.

Bazba growled as he hefted his weapon from where it had smashed into the stone. "You! You're the Silver Maiden… of the ironhead knights! How dare you? Cowards!"

"Oh yes!" she hissed. "And tonight, my fame burgeons! Once I've wiped you out, I'll be a true hero!"

"Not when I skewer you!" Bazba screamed. The sound of clashing weapons sounded all through the cavern as his warriors engaged the intruders. He rushed, twisting his weapon in a wide circle as he came around with an overhead swing.

The knight dodged to the side and smacked her weapon into the handle of his glaive. "Not bad, frog," she said. "Time to die, though."

Bazba threw himself sideways as the knight struck out. The attack was quick—faster than he had thought possible—and the sword cut through the scales at his side. He roared in pain, and fell to the ground.

"Oh well. Not bad, dodging that. Not good enough, though," she taunted. "I guess it's fine if you're alive," she said with a shrug. He struggled to breathe as she stepped out of his field of vision.

Bazba was still conscious when the Silver Maiden returned with the decapitated head of his chieftain.

-?-

The sudden tug at his consciousness caused him to jolt right out of his seat. He stood up and drew his greatsword over his shoulder in a single motion.

((Finally,)) he thought. ((It was only a matter of time before he became careless…)).

He held the blade parallel to the ground in his right hand, pointing it at the darkness. As the wind sang, the glyphs upon the blade shone with a crimson light in the sanctity of the night air. The familiar sensation faded within moments, but the excitement that accompanied it had set his mind ablaze. During that short lapse, he had gleaned the location of his prey.

His armor made no sound as he began to walk.


Author's Notes: Since the knights call Chris "milady," it stands to reason that Chris would have called Sir Galahad "milord." Also, it's a bit unusual how the Zexens refer to people by their first names (Lady Chris, Sir Salome…) rather than by their surnames. Quite unusual, especially for Japanese people! It does seem to be put into system, though, so I'm running with it. It would seem to suggest a lack of inherited titles. Still, "Lady Lightfellow" doesn't sound too bad…

I hope that this chapter did not seem too abrupt: I don't want to dwell too much on these intermediary events.

Sorry for the extended description of Lucia's clothes: I don't usually think that it's useful to go into such detail, but sometimes I like to practice writing descriptions.

Once again, pardon the change of pace. Did I manage to make it entertaining? Let me know! From the next chapter on, things will pick up pace… My favorite strategist once said that "nothing's as good for business as a war," and I think that applies quite well, here. If you liked or disliked anything, I'd appreciate reviews!