A/N: Thank you again for reading thus far, and I greatly appreciate all your feedback, and viewership. Not all of my chapters are going to be out of the park, and that's okay. To quote Big-Sis Prim, "You can't stomp off the stage over one mistake. You have to push on." And that's what I'm going to do. Now, to raise the curtain and, maestro, let the music play!

"My feet hurt!"

The travelers had spent a few hours marching through the Cobbleston Gap. The steep, uneven elevation of the terrain, the rocky firmness of the paved roads, and the thin air were all endemic of the Highlands Region. Olberic was at home in these lands, and moved quicker than usual through the terrain.

Tressa, however, was not as thrilled. She voiced her complaints as the party ascended up a steep hill. The rocky ground was not good on her heels.

"The Highlands Region is among the most treacherous in Orsterra." Cyrus said. "Not only is the terrain voluminous, but the roads themselves are fraught with danger, especially with the fall of Hornburg."

"It's a good thing that we have a brave knight protecting us then." Primrose purred, gently stroking Octo's mane as the beast toiled beneath her. "It's a dangerous world for a group of pretty girls to travel undefended."

"I get that, but…" Tressa continued. "I wish they could protect us from the rigors of, you know, adventuring."

"The life of adventure, the never-ending quest for fulfillment, cannot be accomplished without sacrifice. We all need to make contributions."

"Well that's easy for you to say, on your high horse… er, mule."

"Maybe you two should switch places for a bit." Suggested Ophilia.

"I like that idea!"

"Splendid." Olberic came to a pause, tightening the reins to bring Octo to a full stop. "I appreciate you looking after the young ones."

The dancer frowned as she slid off the mule. "Now, there's no need to be snide."

Despite her short stature, Tressa had no issues getting on the pack mule by herself. She sprawled herself all over Octo's back in an appreciative embrace.

'I'm going to stab him one of these days…' Primrose thought to herself.

The travelers happened upon a clearing just to the side of the road. The perfectly flat elevation, soft grasses, and isolation from general threats made it ideal to set up camp. Alfyn got to work at once to kindle a fire, while H'aanit and Olberic labored to find proper seating.

To everyone's surprise, the Huntress rolled a fairly large boulder off to the side. It complimented the several smaller ones already there, and could seat multiple people. It wasn't pampering, but it would do.

The lot of them were grateful for just a chance to rest their worn heels. Not Olberic, who was by now used to the treatment of the terrain.

Cyrus was curled up on the larger rock, map open, with Tressa eagerly looking over his shoulder. "According to this, we aren't terribly far from Cobbleston. We could seek accommodation there and replenish our supplies."

The merchant's eyes lit up. "We can use all this money I found there as well!"

Olberic grunted and turned away. This gave Primrose an idea, and she gently nudged him with her elbow.

"Say, big guy, we could use this chance for you to show me around town. A Knight always keeps his word." She purred huskily.

"Not happening, not yet." He replied curtly, not so much as turning to face her. "Should you go ahead, I will not stop you, but I'm not going."

"Well, there goes my plans for a romantic night for two…"

He didn't dignify that with a response as she walked back to camp. He instead preoccupied himself with looking around the camp, ensuring that everything was as it should be.

He quickly noticed that one thing wasn't.

"Where's Alfyn?" he asked.

The rest of them looked around for the green-vested Apothecary, but he was not to be seen.

"I doen not now." H'aanit spoke. "Nor does Linde, whom seeth everything."

"Maybe he's out getting herbs and got lost?" Inquired Ophilia.

It wasn't that Olberic was afraid that Alfyn wouldn't be handle himself on his own. It was that his presence stayed Therion, who seemed increasingly brooding today. It would be of great importance to rally their entire party.

"Tressa, come with me." He called out.

The merchant perked up, surprised. "M-me?"

"Yes, we are going to find Alfyn. The rest of you can stay here in case he comes back."

Tressa quickly sat up, making sure she carried her makeshift spear given to her by Captain Leon, and ran to meet the Warrior. H'aanit thought it were an odd choice.

"I would have founden him faster," she thought out loud. "Perchance there is another reason for this."

"Noxroot, and Addlewart, and Essence of Grape, oh my!"

Alfyn was busily filling Zeph's satchel with every herb he found. He never knew that the Highlands Region had such an abundance of flora and fauna, and he made a mental note to return here when his quest was complete. The snow-tipped mountains and rugged terrain hid green gold in those hills.

In his haste to pluck these natural gifts, he eventually realized he separated from the rest of the main group. Gadzooks, he thought, he only went to grab a few plants. How time flies!

'I should really get back to the group… wherever they are.'

With the Satchel as full as it can be, the Apothecary set off to find his compatriots. The terrain was rugged and ridged, but he had no doubts to his ability to reunite with them. On the trail downhill, he went.

That is, until he saw a man kneeling in pain.

"Help!"

Alfyn instinctively rushed over to the man, checking to see his condition. Upon closer inspection, the man seemed to be rather young, of about his own age. He had pure blonde hair, tied in a ponytail much like his own, but much more orderly. His deep blue cape was only rivaled by his striking eyes, which emanated divine blessing in spite of his distress.

"What's wrong sir? You seem to be clutching your leg."

The blue-eyed stranger looked up, relieved to see a friendly face. "Fancy meeting you here around these parts. I was just in a scuffle with a group of monsters, and I got roughed up real hard. My leg took some damage in the fight."

"Do you mind releasing it for a sec? I'm an Apothecary and I'm here to help."

"Thank the Gods, then!" The stranger released his leg, which showed several bruises. "You wouldn't happen to have a Healing Grape on you, would you?"

"Is that all? I should have one around here somewhere…" The Apothecary dug into his bag, sifting through all the herbs he accumulated. It amazed him at just how many there were in the bag. If he carried this thing around, he'd be as strong as Olberic in no time! But reality kicked in, and he found the Grape for him. "Here it is."

"Thank you, stranger." The man eagerly accepted the Grape, and upon consumption, rapidly displayed signs of recovery. He rocketed to his feet. "I feel incredible!"

"I'm glad I could help!" Alfyn smiled as he stood up as well. "My name is Alfyn, who are you?"

"My name is Kit, and I thank you again."

"You don't look to be from around these parts, though I would say the same. What brings you out here?"

"That is a simple question. I came here in search of my father. I haven't seen him in many years, and I only have rumors to go on. If I want to continue my quest, I'll need to change my strategy."

Kit started to walk off in a westerly direction. "May our paths cross again, Alfyn."

"This is incredible, you can see everything from up here!"

Tressa was already lost when she took in the view from the top. Olberic had led her to a high hill in the area, which gave them a perfect view of the pass. To the north, she could see the port of Rippletide and the blue sea. To the southeast, she could see a massive settlement in the hills, which Olberic identified as Stonegard.

"Precisely, which will make the search for Alfyn much simpler. One can see everything within half a day's journey from here."

"This must be one of your favorite spots since you knew it so well."

"I would take a trip out here in my more recent years when I wanted some air."

"It's so cool!... I don't know why you didn't invite Primrose out here."

"I- What are you talking about?"

"I mean, I overhead you two talking about romance, and all the ways she interacts with you, and how you help her like the knights in the fairy tales…"

He took a deep sigh. "The one thing to learn when interacting with that woman, is that when she flirts with you, she wants something of you, not you. In time, you will see what I've seen."

'But the hero is always supposed to get the girl in the end, at least that's what Ma and Pa told me,' she thought.

Olberic took several paces back, and then turned to face Tressa, spear in his hands. "Come, the reason I brought you here was to train you, as I promised."

Tressa's eyes grew like saucers. "Oh man, this is so cool!" She pulled out her own spear.

"Your first lesson will be proper grip and posture. Do as I do."

And so, she copied her mentor's movements, albeit sloppily. It took several tries, but she eventually got it.

"Sir Olberic, is the spear a cool weapon?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Captain Leon was known for his spearman ship, and they're my favorite weapon, but you never see fearsome warriors wielding spears in battle or in the books. It's all swords, bows, and magic…"

He couldn't help but smile. "It is indeed a cool weapon. I've fought many a battle with spearmen on both sides of the fight."

"…That reminds me. You said that you didn't know why you fight, correct?"

"And what of it?"

"You mentioned that you lost your purpose, yet you've gathered a group of strangers with disparate goals, and are now traveling with and fighting alongside them. You also have goals of your own."

"That is a complicated matter, going back to my days as a Knight…"

"…Then why did you become a Knight in the first place? Was it your parents' decision or…?"

She stopped herself from blathering any further, but it was too late. The Warrior in front of her let out a sigh, looking downwards at the ground.

"…I'm sorry-" She blurted out.

"It's quite alright," he cut her off. "It's a valid question, with an elongated answer."

"I'm all ears, Sir Olberic."

"Becoming a Knight, it's nothing like wearing the merchant's robes or the scholar's cowl. I not only swore to protect someone, it became the very meaning of my existence, the moment I discovered why I was born." Olberic shot his head to the sky, in ponderance of whether he should entertain this question. He looked back at his young ward. "Very well, I will tell you, but only while training."

"It's a deal!"

Rain descended on the grounds of Lubek. Nestled within a deep valley in the Kingdom of Hornburg, the tiny village rested in the heart of the land. It's situation and proximity to the royal court made it among the safest hamlets.

"Come on, you're going too slow!"

A young boy, not a day over eleven, tried sloshing through the puddles, doing his best to keep pace. His knees were already deep with caked mud and soot. His hands were equally filthy, having only recently fallen into one of said crevices and picked himself up. His speed was well-below average, but he refused to give up.

"I swear I'm going to catch you one day, Eva!"

The rain grew fiercer, and the townspeople retreated to the warmth of their shelters. But not him. This young lad wouldn't give up, not until he reached the barn at the end of the road. It was the fourth race they engaged in over the course of a week, and he had lost every one so far. But he insisted on a rematch every single time.

"Haha! About time you showed up!"

The boy panted fervently. He couldn't match her speed.

"I will beat you, one of these days."

"How many times have you said that, thus far?"

"It will happen, I swear it, Eva."

"Oh, and what's next? You're going to join the Knights of Hornburg and be the big hero?"

"You mock me now, but not whence I get there."

"The day that happens, I'll become yours, Olberic!"

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you'll find out, when you're old enough and it finally happens… I mean if!"

The wild child, unbraided brown hair draped over her, rushed again outside of the barn into the damp abyss, not a care in the world. He couldn't help but marvel at how the raindrops on her thick white dress never impeded her quick movements.

Olberic and Eva had been neighbors for their childhoods. Both scions of minor nobility, they lived in modest manors, where their every need was met. But while Eva's family was prosperous, Olberic's had fallen on hard times. His father had grown gravely ill, and the family estate grew short on funds. They had only their title of nobility to fall back upon, but it grew increasingly worthless as time went on. This mattered not to the lad, who viewed himself as one of the people anyhow.

As per custom in the Kingdom of Hornburg, all male descendants of nobility were bound to serve in the King's army. The Eisenbergs were exempted due to tenuous circumstances and inability to provision themselves, but it risked them losing their noble title. None of this made much sense to Olberic, who was too young to understand.

…

"Olberic!"

"Eva?"

As time passed, so too did the appearances of the two change. Olberic, now of the age of majority, was a mighty and tall young man. He towered above most others, and the brilliant vest gave him the moniker "The Blue Wall."

But he was not the only one to change. Eva too had grown into an exemplary young woman. Her brown hair extended even further down, draping over her cyan gown. Gone were the tomboyish antics of her childhood, and present were her courtly mannerisms. They had not seen each other in many years, but her sky-blue eyes remained a warm constant, and her embrace a comforting reminder.

"So, you've finally done it, Brand be damned."

"I told you I'd become a Knight of King Alfred. The ceremony was just as grand as it is spun by the bards."

"I would wager. If only your parents could have been around to see you…"

"My heart knows they would be doubtlessly proud, as would you… I missed you deeply, Eva."

"And I, you, Ric."

"I met a great man in the barracks, that I'd like you to meet. He's been nothing but a great friend, and only in this quick jaunt have I been able to separate myself from him…" His voice trailed off, his eyes growing more distant. "I-I fulfilled my promise to you…"

"Oh," sadness panged from the brunette debutante's voice, her expression growing downcast. "I-I don't know what to say…"

Olberic put his firm hands on her shoulders. "What do you mean?"

There was no response. He pressed further.

"I know it's been many years, but I've returned for you, Eva. My loyalty may be to King Alfred, but my essence shall be yours. Please allow me to-"

"We can't, Olberic."

"Why not?"

"Everhold."

"What!? You aren't speaking sense."

"Everhold. He came to our abode two fortnights ago, and spoke with my father. We are to be wed next spring."

He instantly backed away from his childhood friend. Lord Everhold was a duke of great influence. His domain was considerable, and was a trusted advisor of the King. He had been in service to Alfred longer than Olberic had been alive, and there was no way he could compete with a man of his resources, his resume, his repute.

"All those months sweating in the barracks, those years toiling in the mud, the slash marks upon my body… I bore them all to one day be worth of you. I've never felt a connection with another human being as I have you, nor will I again."

"I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Gods only know how my heart skipped when I saw you dismount that horse. But it's best that you forget me now. Do not think for a moment that you failed me…"

Olberic kneeled on one knee, mounting his longsword into the ground, his eyes parallel to it. "If I cannot have your hand, then please accept my blade, my lady. I pledge, until the end of my days, to protect thee from all dangers, external and within. The fires of my fight will only be matched by the passion within my chest."

She cocked her head, shaking her head in sadness, but sighing in defeat. "Very well, Sir Olberic. I humbly accept your pledge."

…

Years passed, and Olberic was taken to many a battlefield. He incurred several scars along the way, but none deterred his resolve. With Sir Erhardt at his side, he recovered from every wound, and never did he lose a single battle.

The two were recuperating at their campsite, laughing about the cowardly Birdmen they fought off many months before. Their chorus was interrupted by the trampling of iron horseshoes to the side.

"Sir Olberic! I have a missive for thee!" The caller called out.

The blue knight stood at attention. "What message do you have for me?"

"Reinforcements are desperately needed at Everhold Fortress. It's under siege as we speak."

"Everhold!? Erhart, we must make haste."

"No need to tell me twice!" The blonde brother boasted.

The ride to the mountainous fort was filled with twists, turns, and tribulations. Most of this came from the terrain itself, marked by tattered banners of the Kingdom of Hornburg, but the beasts contributed greatly as well. It was nothing that the Twin Blades of Hornburg hadn't confronted before, and they tore through them like a hot knife through butter.

Hack and Slash, they went on the besieging army. Some of them recognized the threat, but only when it was too late, for those that didn't flee in time were cut down. The battle had been won, and the only task remaining was to take account of everyone.

Erhardt opted to take care of the wounded, his knowledge of triage was far greater than what Olberic had gleamed. The latter entered the citadel to account for the missing. His heart skipped a beat every time he entered a new room, but was pleasantly surprised when he found large numbers of survivors within the halls.

His rounds were almost complete, only the uppermost level was left to be investigated. There was still a small number of souls left unaccounted for, and these were the ones he had the greatest interest in.

"Eva!" he called out. "Where are you?"

Despite housing a scant number of rooms, he felt that his investigation of the top tier took an eternity. Each room, he entered with trepidation, and each time he encountered nothing. No news was better than bad news, he thought, but his heart would not rest until he discovered the truth.

Finally, he came to the last room yet to be investigated, the master bedroom. He firmly gripped the metal door handles, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. It took every ounce of strength he had to open them, but he pulled back the wooden doors. He was to embrace reality face first.

A dark figure was hunched over in the center of the room. It wore a mask, covered completely from head to toe. The dark cape billowed in the gust erupting from the opening of the door. Beneath it was something even more horrifying.

There lay Eva, curled in a ball, drowned in a puddle of her own blood. She was clutching to her chest her newborn child, who was equally silent.

"Gah!" The Warrior charged in, sword unsheathed, claiming his righteous indignation. His sword failed to connect, and the hitman backflipped away. The figure escaped to the open window, where it was never to be seen again.

With his rage eternally unsated, Olberic turned back to Eva, cradling her fallen form in his arms. He scanned the room for Lord Everhold, but he was nowhere to be seen. He knew the man, and he was nowhere near as agile as the mysterious murderer in front of him. It couldn't have been him, but that mattered little now.

His love was dead. He cried out to the Gods, "Why would you do this?"

He hugged his childhood friend closer to his chest, rubbing back his own tears. He plied back a spec on her blood-stained dress. It was an obsidian-colored sigil, or at least part of one, that must have been cut off in that exchange. It would clearly pass as something of import when together, but as it was now, it was undiscernible. Next to it lay a tuft of deep crimson hair.

He would never be the same again.

"After... that night, I redoubled my commitments to King Alfred. But my heart died with her. You asked why I became a Knight, and there is your answer."

"I'm sorry I asked, Olberic."

"Don't be, Tressa. I think we agree, the past is over."

"If you don't mind me asking… do you still…"

"…Have the sigil? Yes, I keep it on my person at all times, though it's doubtful I'll ever run into that coward again."

"Who? The killer or Everhold?"

"…Yes."

"...I was going to ask if you regretted it... Becoming a Knight, that is."

No answer.

"I mean, have you killed a man?"

Silence.

Having completed their spear training, Olberic walked over to the cliff's edge, where he gazed down upon the camp.

"I see that Alfyn has returned, and they are preparing dinner." He said.

"Wow, that was fast!" She replied.

"Tressa, do you know why I shared that story with you?"

"I, uh, I dunno."

"When I embraced Eva, her wounds were carved out by spearpoint."

"Th-then that means…"

"The spear is a formidable weapon. Though lacking the raw power of heavier weapons, its speed and precision allow it to make quick, efficient movements. More importantly, it is a weapon or neither evil nor good. It has been used dishonorably like the unknown killer, but also by your friend Leon Bastralle. Remember that weapons are innocent. It is the wielder of the blade, or the spear, that bears the guilt, the intent, the evil. In time, you will develop your own style, and I have no doubt it will suffice."

"Right. Thank you, Sir Olberic."

He examined the spear within his hands, eyeing it intently. "From that day forward, I educated myself in the spear. My size and strength keep the nimble potential of the point out of my reach, but I made great strides nonetheless. I aspire to reclaim that memory, and not let a weapon be associated purely with evil, but also for vindication. Not a day goes by when I wield this spear that I don't think of her, and how I fantasize about being the good and gallant knight of old…"

He smiled at his protégé, and turned back to the view below. He looked over to the side, to an area of higher elevation than the campsite below, and saw something terrifying.

"What's that?"

"I can't resist a homecooked meal!"

"All of our meals have been home-cooked, Alfyn…"

"Aww, don't be a buzzkill, Therion."

"Just making sure we're on the same page."

The reunited six travelers sat alongside the campsite, each preoccupying themselves with various tasks. Cyrus was devouring a book he purchased in Rippletide. Primrose was shaving her nails. Therion played with his bangle, while Ophilia drew lines in the dirt with her staff. They all ended up being hearts.

Alfyn was watching H'aanit hunched over the cooking pot. The aroma naturally drew him toward the bowl.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" He asked.

"Excusen me?" The huntress responded.

"I never knew you could cook."

"When my Master and I goen on the hunt, he doeth not knowe anything about cooking. So, it fallen to me."

"Do you mind if I add to your stew?"

She looked at him with guarded eyes. "What doen you have in mind?"

"Here, let me show ya…"

As the two chefs were discussing culinary contents, Therion grew increasingly restless. He suddenly leaped upward and started walking away.

"Where are you going, Therion?" Ophilia asked.

"Not here, that's for certain." He replied.

"Are you leaving us?"

"Bingo."

Everyone turned to face the thief. Primrose rushed to stand in his way, arms folded.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to get this damned bangle off of me. Unlike most of you, I have a delineated path ahead of me, mom."

"What you're doing doesn't make sense. We are stronger together."

Therion stopped in his tracks. The onlookers thought that he had ended his rant.

They were wrong.

"Doesn't make sense? Doesn't make sense! I'll tell you what doesn't make sense. This hodge-podge band of boonies doesn't make sense. None of us have overlapping goals, or destinations. We are all getting in each other's way, and our tasks could be more readily completed on our own. But no, we are stupidly slowing each other down like crabs in a bucket."

He continued. "Look at yourself, Primrose. You spent years plying your trade to get a lead on one man, and the moment you get that lead, you put it off to help some mentally deficient huntress, who stole your mule mind you, save her 'master?'"

Cyrus by this time closed his book, standing up to confront the thief. "That's enough, Therion. It's only logical to help others in their time of need, so that they can themselves lend their aid to in yours. Think ahead."

Therion would take no prisoners. "That's rich coming from you, highbrow. Don't speak to me about logic when you couldn't even see the ramifications of getting too close with your Princess, of all the people in the world. Let's not forget that the only reason you're here is your own lack of foresight."

Alfyn couldn't take this anymore. "You're crossing the line, Therion. I like you, but I can't approve of what you're saying."

The white-haired man turned to his "buddy" this time. "Oh, Alfyn, Alfyn. Then there's you. Of the lot of us, I respect you the least. You have no concrete goals, you have no delineated path, you have no true motivation, other than to be a do-gooder and 'heal the sick.' You were saved as a young child, and dedicated yourself to become an Apothecary in gratitude? Great, but that's already been accomplished. You go with the flow, you don't drop the hammer on anything. Your goals are too easy to fail, and the bar too low to be of any note. Even the kid has a book pointing her in a direction. Have you any idea where your mission takes you? When you can consider it done? For all you know, these people could be taking you in the wrong direction, and you let it happen."

The Apothecary looked away, his face softened. "I… I never knew you really thought of me… that way…"

"Anyways, I'm just going off now. I'm going to get this fool's bangle off of me, and if I don't… well, I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

Therion walked away from the camp, taking the trail to the north. The remaining five were speechless.

"…Perhaps it be besten if I leave as well." H'aanit said, breaking the silence.

"Not you too!" Ophilia squeaked.

"He is not without a pointe. Our goals are different… separate. Mine is of urgency, but you all have your own quests to fulfill, and mine detracts from it."

The huntress stood up, gathering her belongings, and motioned to Linde to join her.

"We need to stick together!"

"For what, Ophilia?"

The cleric was startled to hear Alfyn, of all people, say something. His voice was cracked, tears staining his cheeks.

"He-he's right, you know…"

"Alfyn…"

"GreeeeeeeeeeeeeeK!"

The five, plus Therion, froze and looked upwards to the sound of the screech. They saw a horrifying sight at the top of the hill.

"Highland Ratkings?" Cyrus uttered. "What are they doing up here?"

"Those things are huge!" Primrose added.

"There's at least four of them, and they're just as tough as they look. But they usually only live in the southern Highlands. What would they be doing up here?"

"That's anyone's guess, professor."

"I'm not sure we all can take them…"

"Greeeeeeeeek!"

The Ratkings took sight of the camp, and tumbled down the trail toward them. First on their sights was Therion, who instantly regretted his decision.

The six of them, still sore, arose and took formation.

"This fight is a mismatch…" Therion stated flatly.

"What was it you said before?" Primrose snarked back. "You'd rather die on your feet than live on your knees?"

As she brandished her dagger, Lady Azelhart had done well to mask her insecurity. She wasn't a stranger to violence, and had been trained well by her father, but this was different. It was a different kind of fear from the night her father died, or when she confronted Helgenish. The confidence and swagger that she wore as a necklace had been ripped from her neck. The illusion of confidence melted away in the façade.

In short, she was scared. She closed her eyes as the enemy grew closer.

This wasn't how everything was going to end. Not now. Not before…

Pew

She flashed open her brilliant green eyes, taking in what was in front of her. A blaze of blue bellied before her, mounted atop the monster's head. It removed something from the aforementioned spot, dislodged itself, and landed directly in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late."

She relaxed, leaning on her hip. "Better late than never."

The injured monster, now enraged, growled at its other Ratkings, preparing a counterattack.

"Careful now," she continued. "We'll have to work together to stop them."

Without turning back to speak to her, Olberic said. "Leave this to me."

He cocked his weapon of choice, his long spear, toward the Rats. He waited until they closed the distance, axes at their ready, thirsting for his blood.

This would be their downfall.

He began a rapid thrust volley at the primary Ratking, injuring it into a stun, and knocking it over. Olberic moved over to the next target, emptying an uncountable number of thrusts into it, until it too fell over, deceased. With the grace of a dancer, and the ferocity of a lion, he continued his thrusts into each of the Ratkings, until all were at his feet.

"That… was… amazing!" Tressa squealed, running up to the Knight. "You did all of that, with just a spear?"

The man in blue smiled, wiping the blood off of the tip. "Aye. That was an old technique of mine, called the 'Thousand Spears.' It took me years to master."

"Could I learn it too?"

"One day, Tressa, one day."

He wanted to heap praise on Tressa, but he knew that there was a more pressing matter at hand. He looked at Therion, and his expression said it all.

"You're free to leave if you want to. I'm not your master."

"Tch. No need to tell me twice." Therion sighed. "Here comes the 'but…'"

"…But it would benefit you to stay."

"Convince me."

Having finished cleaning the blood off his spear, Olberic sheathed the weapon. He turned to face the rest of the group, who were looking on with uncertainty.

"What Therion said was not without some merit. Our goals are different, our worldviews are disparate, and our paths are divergent. We share little in common except for the facts that we have such little in common, and we each are traveling across the land on some sort of quest. Despite our appreciation for one another's help, one would think it would be in our best interest to diverge."

None of them said a word. Not one raised a hand in objection. Not even Cyrus.

Primrose beamed across the crowd as he spoke. What were they, truly? A holier-than-thou Sister, an inarticulate huntress, an ivory tower highbrow, a fool, a scoundrel, a child, and herself, a whore. All led by a disgraced knight. They were all flawed, they were all incomplete, and none of them…

"…can finish their quest alone, no matter whether or not they admit it." Olberic continued. "You've seen the monsters before us just moments ago. The migration patterns are unusual, this is true, but it's but a taste of what's to come. Our foes will overwhelm us, if not in strength, in wit, in circumstance, in experience. I should know, for I chase to defeat a man who is my superior in every respect…"

"You're not doing a good job, old man."

"Just so, I may not. But were you confident enough to complete your task on your own, you wouldn't have even entertained our offer back in Boulderfall. The outer rings of Orsterra are filled with dangers that no one of us can overcome individually, but together, we are stronger than the sum of our parts. Each of us can contribute something to our quest, and…" he paused, looking over at Tressa, "…can learn something new from each other. We are eight paths but travel one common road. You do not have to join each other in holy matrimony, but our union will bolster us all."

The next several seconds felt like an eternity. The last words coming from the man in blue echoed through the valley, and not a snark was uttered in rejection. Therion sighed and walked back.

"What's for dinner, Alfyn… and H'aanit?" He asked.

"Alfyn."

"It's getting late, Therion. What's up?"

The thief stayed silent for several seconds. Though nightfall had come and the others retired to their lodgings, he wanted to ensure that they were alone.

"...I'm sorry."

Alfyn responded with his own muteness. The two simply stood there, on the corner of their setup, for several seconds.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like everything you said was wrong."

"You reminded me of someone I used to know, many years ago."

"Oh really?" Alfyn finally turned to his "best buddy" this time. "Who?"

Therion turned his head to the night sky. He loved gazing at the night sky, but the only constellation he could see was Sagidarius.

"Me."

A/N: Olberic's design and character are based both on European Knights and Samurai. I've been channeling a lot of Sir Lancelot when I see him, personally.

Also, my side project has been to transcribe all the chapter banters for each character, since there doesn't exist a text-based version of them yet. Yep. All of them. At least I'm halfway done!

Any pairing in this story would be slow to build, but there would be dedicated development when the time is right in the context of this story. I just worry it would heavy hand the story and detract from other elements. My apologies, but I personally view that way as most rewarding in the long run.

But enough of that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one will feature H'aanit some more. Until then, Happy Trails!