Chapter Ten

Prudentia

Genis sighed and kicked at the thousandth stone for the thousandth time on this trail they'd walked on for a thousand miles. The occasional monster would show itself, usually an oversized insect or a couple of bears, so at least he'd gotten time to sharpen his skills a bit. But there was one persistent thought that hovered in the back of his head, even after the battles, and he found himself speaking it aloud into the warm afternoon air.

"The Desians are half-elves…?"

Raine gave him a startled look, but it was Kratos who responded in a factual tone. "Yes. It's said they are almost entirely composed of half-elves."

Lloyd eyed his best friend curiously. "Why'd you bring that up all of the sudden?"

"I was just thinking… they're of the same blood as I am." He blinked, and the unwelcome memory of that poor man's snapped neck burned behind his eyes. He shuddered. "How can they do such terrible things?"

"Ah, that's right," Lloyd said hesitantly. "You're an elf."

Genis cleared his throat, looking a bit diffident. "Y-yeah."

"I know what you mean," Lloyd sighed. He waved one hand in front of his face, absently swatting away a group of gnats. His expression fell grim. "When I think about how they're at least half-human, I wonder how they can do the things they do."

"'Human' has more than one meaning," Sara offered. Her right thumb brushed across the Exsphere on the back of her left hand. "To really call yourself human, you've got to care for others at least a little bit. ...As far as I'm concerned, the Desians aren't human at all."

"Why are they like that, though?" Genis asked, almost desperate. "There has to be some reason…"

Kratos narrowed his eyes. His head tilted to one side pensively. "Don't you think they've been persecuted?"

Those unforgiving cold onyx walls of Iselia's human ranch rose up in Lloyd's thoughts, and how they'd haunted him and his village for most of his life. He thought of Marble, and the other pale, withered bodies he'd seen milling about the ranch's courtyard like a herd of wandering ghosts.

"That's because they treat us like cattle," he said lividly.

Kratos looked away. Overhead, a pair of birds tweeted an avian conversation, and he glanced up to see one flee the trees in a flustered hurry. "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?..."

Confusion scrunched up Lloyd's face. Although, really, he should've expected such a weird, cryptic response from the mercenary, whose normal rhetoric seemed to consist of either scolding him or wistfully mumbling strange phrases. "What?"

The breath left Kratos' lungs in a long, resigned sigh. "...Nothing."

"It wouldn't matter if we knew," Sara said. Kratos looked at her inquisitively, though the distant mountains held her attention. "Even if we traced discrimination back to its origin thousands of years ago, and we knew exactly who to blame… it wouldn't matter. Someone, somewhere, would just screw it all up again."

Raine shook her head, frowning. "That's a defeatist attitude. Hopelessness is the easy way out. Actually making a change is the difficult path."

Sara met the Professor's gaze, her shoulders squaring. She smirked cynically. "Oh, I'm not defeatist - I'm a realist. Ignoring reality won't change anything, either. The world's not all candy and rainbows."

"That sounds so nice," Colette exclaimed suddenly, looking to the sky. "A world made entirely of candy and rainbows!"

"I could eat everything!" Lloyd agreed excitedly.

"Not if I do first!" Genis challenged.

"Oh, I bet bridges would be made from taffy! And clouds from cotton candy, and trees from licorice, and…"

Kratos sighed a second time, only Raine and Sara now joined in.

"Well," Sara began, countering Kratos' look of disdain with a sheepish smile. "It's better than hangmen and death quotas, at least."

He didn't return it, but that brooding countenance softened into something close to agreeance. "...Indeed."

The Grand Priest stared at Lloyd like he'd sprouted a third eye. "You say you… want the Spiritua Statue?"

Lloyd nodded again. "I know it's a brazen request, but it's for the world regeneration."

Colette was beside him, and her big blue eyes were earnest and pleading. "Please, Father."

That seemed to do the trick, because after only a few moments, the Priest relented with a soft smile. He cleared his throat and idly adjusted the tall, regal hat atop his balding head. "If the Chosen asks, then we will of course not hesitate to lend our aid." He glanced at another, much younger priest over his shoulder. "...Bring the statue here."

Instead of doing just that, however, the second priest began sweating profusely, his pudgy face turning an uncomfortable shade of tomato-red. "M… my most humble apologies!"

Lloyd gave the now repeatedly-bowing priest a curious look. "What's wrong?"

"This Spiritua Statue is actually a fake I had placed here," he mumbled dejectedly.

Sara held one hand over her scowling face. "Of course it is."

Rather flustered, the Grand Priest's mustache practically bristled. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I lost the real Spiritua Statue on a pilgrimage a year ago…"

"The pilgrimage is the Church of Martel's spiritual training journey, right? Why would you take the statue along with you?" Lloyd asked.

The Grand Priest sighed in resignation. "The halo on the head of the Spiritua statue is made of diamond. We always take it with us when we go out on pilgrimages in order to protect it from thieves."

"On the trip last year, I followed that custom as usual, and brought the statue with me to Thoda Island," tomato-face continued. "But there, I… accidentally dropped it into the geyser."

Raine's glare could've pierced through Hakonesia Peak itself, but it was Lloyd who said what everyone was thinking: "Why'd you have to take it to a place like that?!"

"I am terribly sorry…" More fervently prostrate bows. "I was so moved upon seeing the geyser for the first time… By the time I realized it, the statue had fallen onto the rocks on the on the other side of the geyser. Desperate, I paid a visit to a dwarf who lives in Iselia and had him make something just like it."

Genis' eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that'd be Dirk."

"Dad…" Lloyd wondered aloud. He thought back to his home, mentally scanning walls of Dirk's work area for any memory of such a statue. "Just what kind of jobs are you doing?"

"Well then," Kratos began, his smooth voice once again bringing everyone back to reality. "What shall we do now? Do you think the fake will fool that old man?"

Raine grimaced and fought off a wave of nausea. "That doesn't seem likely. It's well-built, but it's still a fake. That collector was… many things… but he wasn't a fool."

"Um, um…" Colette's hands wrung together before she finally forced the words out. "How about if we go get the real one?"

That wave of nausea rose again with a vengeance. Raine dug her staff into the floor and gripped it for stability against memory-induced seasickness. "Y-you… want to go all the way to Thoda Island? And into a geyser?"

"Yeah, that's the problem." Lloyd gulped. "Even I'll pass on getting hit with boiling water."

"Oh, my, Lloyd," the Professor beamed. "You remembered that a geyser is a geological formation that erupts with boiling water… I'm so proud!"

"Lloyd, you're amazing!" Colette added sincerely.

The teen shrugged, absently inspecting the back of his hand. "Of course. Everyone knows that."

Genis elbowed his friend in the ribs. "I bet you just guessed…"

"Sh… shut up…"

Kratos frowned. "...Humph."

"If only we could stop the geyser," Colette said.

"Oh, we won't need to," Sara assured, grinning. "Iona can get it for us. Dragons can't be burned. In fact, she's used that exact geyser as a bathtub before."

Lloyd blinked. "W-wow, really?"

"It gets rid of scale-mites."

Genis recoiled, feeling suddenly itchy. "Eww…"

"Alright then, problem solved!" Lloyd was already halfway to the front door. "Let's go!"

"It's nearly sunset," the Professor observed, peering out the ancient window beside her shoulder. "And we're already here. Let's just spend the night. We can leave first thing in the morning."

Dinner had been made and promptly eaten - a cheese risotto by Genis that went over very well for all involved. Now with full bellies, Lloyd and Genis had both already made their way back upstairs to bed, but Kratos, Sara, Raine and Colette remained outside by the fire, not quite ready for sleep. Raine was perusing an old book with Colette, who sat beside her, listening intently. Across from them, Kratos was nearing the last sips of his hot tea, while Sara stood nearby, facing the northern mountains. She remained still at first, both hands at her sides as she stared ahead with intent, narrowed eyes - but then one hand would lash out, her claws slicing through the night air. Her palm would glow for a moment, flames flickering across its surface. Just as quickly as it appeared, however, the fire would fade into harmless smoke.

This happened each time - and with each attempt ending in a various string of curses. Kratos watched her, admittedly a bit entertained, as he finished his tea. Every failed try fanned her anger, which lessened her concentration, which brought about more anger in an endless, ridiculous cycle she was obviously failing to recognize.

"Ahh! ...Hyah! ...Ugh!" Breathing hard, Sara growled and glared down at her fingers like she wanted to pry them off. "Dammit… Stay lit, stupid hand..."

Kratos set down his cup and approached her quietly. "You lack the refinement to properly control fire. You won't get anywhere that way."

Sara turned to face him with wide eyes, a bit startled. "Oh. Kratos." She frowned, meeting his even look with an acidic glare. "Well, gee, thanks for telling me something I already know. ...Smartass."

Slowly, he extended his own hand towards her, palm-up. "...Let me see your hand."

Her gaze flicked from his fingers to his eyes and back several times. His expression was unreadable and stony, unchanging.

"O...okay." Hesitantly, she rested the back of her hand against his offered palm. It was warm, which she found a bit surprising, given his typical icy demeanor.

The mercenary nodded. "Summon your flames. Softly," he emphasized. "Let it be gentle at first."

Sara swallowed hard and nodded back. "...Alright."

The very center of her hand tingled with warmth that began first at her Exsphere, then straight through bone and muscle to her palm. Small flames bloomed there, like a flower opening, petals spreading to kiss the moonlight. Their muted light cast dancing shadows across his veiled face.

"Controlling the fire element is all about using one's breath," Kratos continued. Their eyes met, cinnamon against chocolate. "Much like blowing out a candle, your flames will extinguish if met with excess air. The durability and strength of your fire depends entirely on the ability to keep your breathing smooth and even."

"My breath," she echoed quietly. The flames in her palm remained, though they twitched almost eagerly. "Okay. Smooth and even."

"Start by inhaling." His burgundy head tilted, gesturing to her hand. "The flames will shrink."

A long, purposeful breath entered her chest - sure enough, that quivering ball of fire reduced itself over halfway, from the size of an apple to that of a lime. "Do you see?"

"...Yes," she responded, awed.

His eyes glinted. "Now. Slowly, softly exhale."

That breath passed through her lips. Her palm's warmth grew remarkably, spreading into her fingers and wrist.

"Feel how they grow," Kratos continued gently. "But not -"

The tail end of her exhale came out as an excited rush. The flames blew apart and vanished, their dying sparks washing away with the night breeze.

"...Dammit," she muttered again.

"- too much."

Sara sighed, her shoulders slumping. What was this, the twentieth time she'd failed? Maybe this wasn't meant to be. Maybe she was kidding herself…

"Clearly, I'm still doing something wrong. Maybe I'm not cut out for magic…"

Kratos shook his head deliberately. "You are confined only by what you think of yourself. If you want to succeed, you will."

Oh. Well, then.

Her mouth fell open a little. Once again, he'd managed to make her feel utterly and wonderfully stupid for doubting herself. How did he always do that?

She stared at him for a few moments before finally whispering, "O-okay."

"Now," he began, steadfast and sincere. "Try again."

The world seemed to fall away behind him. His voice buzzed in her head as she closed her eyes. Bit by bit, the fire crawled back into her grasp. Beside the campfire, Raine and Colette glanced in her direction, watching curiously.

Kratos nodded. "Remember: control and persistence. Smooth and even. Let the flames work for you, not against you. Inhale."

Sara did. She was silent, feeling nothing but her own rushing blood and the consistent, comforting pressure of his palm on the back of her hand. Once again, the flickering flames began to shrink.

"Good. Remember that you are in control. Let out your breath. Feel the flames grow, bit by bit."

Another exhale. She reigned it in this time, concentrating, letting the warmth wash across her skin, welcoming it. When her lungs were empty, the fire still remained, and it felt hotter. Stronger. She stared down at it, stunned.

"Again," he commanded. "Just like that."

"Just…" Another cycle of breath. Another success. "...like that…" She started to smile, a tentative twitch of the corners of her mouth.

Kratos stepped back, dropping his hand to his side. She didn't seem to notice. "...With practice, you will know how far you can push the fire. Your flames are hottest just before they extinguish. Being able to balance them there, right on the edge of excess, is the true heart of fire magic."

Her face was lit up, from the fire's light as well as a sense of pride and accomplishment. She raised her hand in the air, swiveling her wrist, making the flames slide sinuously between and around her fingers. No matter the direction, they stayed needily glued to her skin, unwilling to let go.

"That makes total sense. I never thought of it that way before." She met his eyes, still smiling. "I always kind of thought I related to fire, so I figured this'd be easy. But as it turns out, it's too much like me: stubborn, not very approachable, and prone to violent outbursts."

He rested one hand on his sword's hilt. His fingertips absently brushed along the crimson gem at its base. He watched her move, the way her outstretched arm gracefully twisted before her, serpentine and confident, as if she were performing a ritualistic dance to appease some ancient, scalding god.

"Becoming familiar with fire magic requires patience, persistence, and an open mind. It is the most volatile of all the elements." For some reason, his own voice felt strange and distant. It was soft, and seemed to be more air than words. "...But fire gives life in the form of the Sun, and the heat that fuels this planet's cycle."

She was laughing now, triumphantly, a joyous celebration. That hand was still undulating above her head, and her grin was blinding, as bright and brilliant as her newfound flames.

"Therefore, in a sense," he finished, "it is also… the most beautiful."

"Look. Look, Kratos! I've got it!"

He found himself smiling a little, too. "You learn quickly."

Sara's hand curled into a fist as she brought it against her chest. The fire vanished, though her fingers tingled with its warmth. "Well, I… have a good instructor." Her cheeks were still flushed with victory as she looked at him. "Thank you, Kratos."

"...It was nothing." He turned halfway, glaring at her over one broad shoulder. "Perhaps now you will be a bit more useful in battle."

Her chin tilted proudly. "Just watch me."

She was still practicing as he began to head inside. Kratos paused for a moment in the doorway, finding it difficult to look away. His feet felt strangely heavy. It took an inappropriate amount of will to move them any further.

"...Goodnight, Sara."

"Smooth and even. Slow, and soft…"

Lloyd couldn't sleep.

He laid on his back on the thin mattress, hands behind his head. He'd already counted every beam in the ceiling three times. Mentally, he'd gone over and practiced each one of his techniques. He turned onto his side, sighing, staring across the room at the small silhouette of Genis' shoulders. He thought he'd heard the boy move a few moments ago, so maybe he hadn't fallen asleep yet, either.

"Genis. You awake?"

"...No."

"You can't sleep either, huh?"

There was a pause as Genis turned onto his back. "...I guess not."

Lloyd's left hand was resting beside his face on the pillow. He turned it from side to side, intently watching the way the moonlight bounced off of his Exsphere's glassy surface. "Can I ask you something?"

Genis made a small noise of exasperation. "Duh, Lloyd. What?"

"What would you do if you were a half-elf?"

Lloyd couldn't see it, but Genis' sleepy eyes flew open wide.

"I mean," Lloyd continued thoughtfully. "Would you hate humans? Would you become a Desian? Or would… you try and get along with everyone else?"

Genis glanced at his friend. His mouth opened once, but no sound came out. He turned away again, shifting onto his side, though he couldn't seem to get comfortable. "I… I don't know, Lloyd. Why do you always think about stuff like this?"

"I can't help it," Lloyd muttered. "It's just how my brain works, I guess."

Genis huffed a laugh. "At least something in your brain works."

"Shut up! Fine then, go back to sleep."

Lloyd's sheets rustled as he whipped over to his other side. He glared out the window and at a stray cloud as it passed over the moon. From outside, he could just barely hear the distant buzzing of cicadas, a strangely comforting sound.

"...Lloyd?" came a small voice, after a long silence.

"Yeah?"

"I… I wouldn't be a Desian," Genis mumbled, barely audible. "I'm not sure what I'd do, but, I… I wouldn't do that."

Lloyd smiled a little and let out a long breath. "I know, Genis. Thanks… for answering me."

"You're… you're welcome."

Dawn exploded over the rocky horizon, a burst of gold and orange through the unmarred sky. As the sun climbed steadily heavenward, Colette pushed open the House of Salvation's front door and stepped outside. Her still somewhat bleary expression instantly brightened at the sight. She smiled wide, pausing for just a moment to take in an appreciative breath through her nose.

Lloyd, still groggy and rubbing his eyes, almost ran into her back. He blinked down at her beaming face inquisitively. The way the sun's rays lit up her smooth cheeks and shone on her flaxen hair was picturesque and appropriately angelic. She peered up at him, and he smiled back at her.

"It's a beautiful morning, Lloyd," she said.

He nodded. His chest felt suddenly, strangely full. "Y-yeah, Colette. It is."

They made their way outside. Genis followed them, his eyes half-lidded, his shoulders crunched under the weight of his pack. Contrarily, his sister was wide awake and alert, peering distractedly at her map. Kratos followed a moment later, his eyes thinning as they met the sunlight. Sara was last, holding a tin thermos in one hand and sipping on the still-steaming coffee inside.

"Let's head out," Raine announced, rolling up her parchment map and sticking it back in its place in her overcoat. "I feel like a broken record, but we really can't afford to waste anymore time."

"Chosen One! Everyone!"

A storm of footfalls came from their left. Three Palmacosta Army soldiers, in full defensive armor, were jogging along the trail towards them - although it looked like it would've been a sprint still if not for their obvious exhaustion. They had apparently been travelling overnight, which meant that whatever reason gave them speed must have been important.

Colette stepped forward. "What is it?"

Their leader paused before the small girl, and gave her his best panting bow. "We have a message from Dorr. He would like you to temporarily postpone your journey of regeneration."

Raine flung her arms in the air with a growling sigh. The map fell from her breast pocket and wafted to the ground, and she completely gave into the rage-induced urge to stomp on it repeatedly.

Kratos frowned and took a dubious sidestep away from her. "What is this about?"

Sara had dashed back inside and returned with three cups of fresh water, which were handed to each of the soldiers and thankfully accepted. The leader downed his in one massive gulp before wiping his mouth and speaking. "A Church of Martel pilgrimage tour guide has been kidnapped by the Desians. In light of this, Dorr has decided that this is the time to gather Palmacosta's forces and launch an attack on the human ranch controlled by Magnius."

Genis exchanged a surprised glance with Lloyd. "Where do we come in?"

"We would like to ask you to rescue the kidnapped tour guide in concert with our attack."

Colette had a bad feeling about the answer, but asked anyway: "Who is the tour guide?"

The soldier passed the back of one hand across his dewy forehead. His stubbled face fell grim. "I believe you all know of her already. Her name is Chocolat."

Lloyd paled, his heart plummeting into his stomach. "Chocolat?!"

The Professor's exasperated frustration vanished instantly. "...Oh no."

"Chosen One." The soldier extended one giant, armored hand and just barely grasped Colette's with tender reverence. Hers looked like that of a tiny, frail doll, a speck of flesh lost in a sea of gleaming emerald metal and black leather. "Please help us."

She nodded resolutely and met Lloyd's gaze, a familiar, automatic glance that he returned with fervor. "Lloyd, let's help them."

"Yeah, of course!"

Raine allowed herself one last small sigh. "...Somehow, I thought you were going to say that."

"We can't just leave her." He shook his head of wispy chestnut hair. "No one deserves to be stuck in one of those ranches. I couldn't live with myself knowing I didn't at least try to help."

Sara was beside him, and she gave his shoulder an encouraging nudge with her own. "I like your style, kid." She met the soldier's gaze, tipping her mug in his direction. "We're with you."

"Thank you," the soldier breathed, and finally allowed himself to sit on one of the porch's benches. His armor scraped together unpleasantly. "Neil will inform you of the details once you reach the ranch. Thank you so much for your help."
"So where's this ranch?" Genis asked.

His sister surreptitiously picked up her map from the ground and dusted it off. "Not far from here, towards the Eastern shore."

Collectively, they all began walking once more, with Raine in the lead. Sara was giving Kratos an amused, expectant smirk. "What, no pinpoint-accurate measurements this time?"

He stared back at her flatly. "Nine-point-three miles."

"Ahh, there it is." She sipped her coffee loudly. "The day just doesn't seem right unless it starts with your nuggets of wisdom. Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Three hours, a dozen monster battles, and just over six miles later, it was time for a break. Although one would have likely happened regardless of the group's consensus - Lloyd and Genis both were in foul moods. Every attempt at working together resulted in a slew of passive-aggressive, snide comments about nothing in particular, a bunch of general whining complaints that the rest of their companions took no pleasure in hearing. The group seemed to be standing on the edge of a bed of coals, one foot inching steadily towards their blistering surface.

When Lloyd had furiously and carelessly attempted to sheath his left sword a total of three times before success and Genis had somehow managed to transform his kendama into a useless clump of knots, Raine had had enough.
"Alright!" Her shrill exclamation echoed through the trees. A couple of birds took off fearfully. Lloyd and Genis, who paused abruptly in their stride, wanted to do the same. "Out with it!"

Genis whipped around to face his sister, his small face flushed and fuming. "It's that Magnius guy!"

"Yeah," Lloyd agreed emphatically. He still had his right blade in his palm, and was glaring down at its shining surface with a furrowed brow and embroiled eyes. "He's… such a barbarian."

The Professor looked for a moment like she might begin another speech praising the teen's vocabulary usage, but instead she just nodded in agreement. "I couldn't have put it better myself. He's trying to rule everything through brute force and intimidation."

"The coward's way," Sara spat, idly inspecting her claws.

Lloyd thought of many things: gallows ropes, crooked necks, a young boy's far-too-old face as he accepted inevitable death. He remembered that boy's shoulders sliding down in resignation, and how their thin profile would have never had the chance to grow up broad and strong if Lloyd hadn't intervened. And now Magnius had gone and kidnapped their friend Chocolat, whose only crime was having a backbone and a sense of pride. Her mother Cacao, then, had been left alone… He winced at the thought of how sick with worry she must be.

He really shouldn't be thinking so hard. He knew it was bad for him and rarely ended well. But these thoughts were like a tornado, and whisked him away before he had a chance to stop them. It didn't help that his gut was urging him on, screaming for revenge and justice. The blade in his hand seemed to sing its agreement.

"That bastard… I'm going to make him pay."

Kratos' calm voice came like a blast of frigid wind: "Even that man is a living being. Defeating Magnius means taking a life."

Lloyd's sword sliced through the air as he turned to face the mercenary. "So, what, we should just stand by and let him take out his retribution on the people of Palmacosta?"

The absolute stillness and surety with which Kratos spoke made Lloyd uncomfortable. "No. What I'm saying is: to kill means to bear the responsibility for that life." Kratos paused. His eyes closed, which allowed Lloyd to remember to breathe. "...And you must never forget that."

Lloyd was not the only one affected. The rest of his group became thoughtfully silent, each member staring quietly at something, whether it was the ground, the azure sky, or anything in between.

Killing was a sadly normal part of this journey. By now, the lives of many monsters, Desians, and bandits had fallen victim to their collective purpose. It was easy to forget what that meant when it had become such a usual occurrence.

Lloyd honestly felt sick for a moment. But… that wouldn't do. He had goals to accomplish. He had friends to protect. The back of his left hand grew suddenly hot. He found himself nodding, almost as if his mother had really been there to agree with him.

His heart pounded solidly and with renewed purpose.

"...To bear the responsibility for a life…" He met Kratos' gaze. It was a bit easier this time. "...It seems I get excited a little too easily. I'll be careful."

There was a sharp schring of a sword being drawn, and Lloyd barely had time to widen his eyes before Kratos' blade was aimed at his neck.

"Then put your energy to good use," Kratos said, though his mouth was hidden from Lloyd's line of sight by his muscular, bunched shoulder. All Lloyd could see of the older man's face was one piercing, gemlike eye between bangs of burgundy hair. "Let us train."

Lloyd drew his sword's twin and stood ready, and though it might not have been as seamless or cool as Kratos' display, he felt confident it was worthy of at least some praise. He nodded resolutely, even though it brought his face closer to that cold, polished steel.

"How's that?" he asked, smiling.

"You're wide open."

That smile tumbled into a timid frown. "What?! How?"

Kratos lowered his blade just slightly. "Fighting with two swords deviates from the way in which swords were originally intended to be used. This increases your vulnerability."

"That's weird." Lloyd's eyes darted back and forth between his twin weapons. "If one sword has a power of 100, then using two will make it 200, right?"

The mercenary looked suddenly as if he were biting back a thousand words. "I have… heard you express a similar sentiment before. But… are you telling me this is the reason you have chosen to fight with two swords?"

"Yeah," came the factual, snarky reply. "So?"

Kratos' sword dropped until its tip brushed against the dirt. That intimidating expression was quickly replaced with one of dejection.

"Wh-what?" Lloyd growled. "Why do you look at me with pity?!"

"I'm sorry," Kratos sighed.

"I'll prove you wrong! Hi-yah!"

Pride flashed across the older man's impassive face. "Heh, that's the spirit."