25. Nightfall

Tucked in the shadow of a dry, winding canyon, the ruins did seem a perfect place to hide. As far as Flynn knew, there was no record of such a place existing in Desier—there had really been no reason for the knights to scout so deeply into an otherwise barren land. Another lost relic of the past. Flynn turned away from the cliff's edge, careful not to stir any pebbles loose to bounce down to the canyon floor. It was still early, but sweat gathered under his collar, threatened to trickle down his back. He squinted into the sun and took a drink from a flask of water, allowing himself only a mouthful before returning it to his belt.

They stood in a semi-circle directly above the crumbling stone structures: Flynn, Tor, Kyan, Rita and Estellise, their Tecarri guide and two other knights. Unsure of what they would find at their destination, it was thought best that the expedition be kept small enough to remain inconspicuous, yet large enough to defend themselves if taken by surprise. Predictably, the girls had traveled beside the Tecarri woman who led them, one of them relaying messages back to the others whenever necessary. Mostly, though, they had walked in silence, passing only scrub and gnarled, leafless trees. In the daylight, many of the monsters slept in the shade of rocks or burrows; once, the group startled a lizard about the size of Repede. It hissed at them, scaly neck ruff flaring, before slipping down into a stony crevice. It was the most excitement of their trip before they reached the canyon.

Across from Flynn, Kyan dragged his sleeve across his forehead.

"Man, it's hot. I think I'm almost out of water; guess I should've taken it easier." He glanced over to pout at Tor, who automatically clamped his hand over his own water flask and shook his head, grinning.

A few steps away, the Tecarri woman—Flynn guessed if he wanted to know her name, he would have to ask Estellise—watched the exchange with wry amusement.

"It is only spring," she said. "Barely that. You would not do well here."

Kyan shrugged, holding up his canteen and shaking it beside his ear. "Then it's a good thing I'm not planning to stay any longer than I have to."

The woman snorted, the light fabric of her skirts swishing as she stepped back over to speak with Rita and Estellise. Flynn could only imagine what thoughts must be going through her mind, likely about the foolishness of men. Perhaps she would share those thoughts—he was pretty sure that was what women talked about when they were among themselves, anyway. The pointed glances that were sent back in the knights' direction only strengthened that assumption. Flynn shook his head before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

"So," said Kyan, "we're here. What now?"

Tor scratched his head. "Don't we have to make sure the extremists are actually here first?"

"Well, yeah. How are we going to do that?"

A smirk tugged at Flynn's lips. Technically, Tor outranked Kyan after his promotion, but the other knight had difficulties remembering to call his best friend sir. While protocol was important, Flynn imagined that had Yuri remained in the knights, they would have had a similar issue. Of course, it was a moot point. Yuri didn't like to sir anyone. That was part of the problem.

"—alright?"

He snapped his eyes up to find himself under Tor's gaze and cleared his throat—he really couldn't afford to drift like that. Wasn't putting distance between them supposed to prevent this type of distraction? Flynn didn't want to think about the fact that maybe nothing could, now. But no. He was here for a reason; to move forward, to do things the right way.

"They're here." Flynn spoke firmly, meeting the eyes of each of the knights around him in turn.

"How—" Kyan swallowed. "I mean, with all due respect, sir…" So he did know how to be subordinate, after a fashion. Flynn allowed a small, tight smile.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm certain. The dirt around the central tower is too smooth, like they were hiding footprints. I also found a bolt from a crossbow—if it were old, it would be buried in the sand. And Estellise says the Tecarri don't come here."

Kyan sighed, looking down at his boots. "Let me guess. They think it's haunted…sir?" He grimaced when Flynn nodded once. The other knights muttered to themselves, before Tor broke in cheerfully.

"None of that, now. This culture lets women make all the decisions—are we really going to get shaken up over some local superstition?"

"Uh, Tor…" Kyan frowned, gaze settling on a point behind him. Tor turned and nearly jumped when he found the Tecarri guide at his shoulder.

Her arms were crossed, but she seemed otherwise unruffled. She spoke softly, in an even tone with little emotion.

"There was a battle, long ago. No time to bury the fallen. Now they refuse to leave this place. We should not linger."

She turned away without waiting for any of the men to respond—they looked at each other with varying degrees of bafflement and concern. Before anyone could be the first to speak, Estellise bounded into view, squeezing herself between Tor and Kyan in the middle of their circle.

"It's amazing," she said, a bit breathlessly. "Do you know where we are?"

More shuffling. Someone coughed, short and dry.

"If you've learned something, please tell us," said Flynn. Estellise turned toward him, eyes bright. When she spoke, it was in the measured, lilting tone of recitation.

"Many centuries ago, the emperor Orlen, known for his wisdom and strength in battle, had two sons. Both were brave and handsome, but opposite in every way: Brinn had hair as fiery as his temper, while his younger brother, Estel, was kind and fair of feature. When the brothers reached adulthood, each was given rule over a portion of their father's empire."

Flynn blinked, interrupting as she paused for breath. "Estel. Does that mean that you…?"

Estellise's cheeks flushed, darkening spots of pink left there by the relentless sun. She nodded. "I was named after the prince. Many nobles have former royals as their namesakes."

Well, Flynn could see why the story might be close to her heart, then. "I'm sorry. Please continue."

She nodded, took another breath. "The lands under the princes' control were meant to be equal in size and importance, but Brinn was jealous of his brother's territories: Hypionia, a land of fertile soil, temples and sun-drenched forests. It suited Estel, just as the Coliseum battles and bustling trade of Nordopolica was a better fit for Brinn's nature.

"But his veins ran hot with envy, believing that his father had favored Estel and given him a land of dust. Even controlling the second largest city of the Empire was not enough for him. So Brinn provoked his brother, drew Estel away from the people that loved him and into a feud he never wanted. During this time, their father died—not wishing his eldest son to become Emperor after him, the matter of succession was left unresolved. This only fueled Brinn's hatred.

"Eventually, it came down to a confrontation between their armies, deep in Brinn's land. The Commandant at that time, a man named Delarist, was loyal to Estel and had a tower constructed to hold against his brother's men. There was a long, fierce battle in the desert heat; they ran out of water in Delarist's tower long before they were in danger of running out of food, and Estel was forced to surrender. He met his brother alone, to negotiate a truce and some type of compromise regarding his lands. To end the fighting, it was said, he was even willing to give up his claim to the throne, though few thought Brinn to be the better choice.

"They met as the sun was rising, and Brinn was consumed by rage and jealousy. He murdered his brother, who had come to meet him bearing no weapons, as they had agreed. With that action, the battle was finished. Brinn became Emperor, though he was never loved, and many thought him mad: he destroyed the beautiful cities of Hypionia that he had so envied and let the temple fall into disrepair. This is why only the smallest settlements exist there…at least, until Aurnion was built."

Estellise tilted her head, frowning, the last words spoken like an afterthought and not part of the narrative. She blinked in the sun, coming back out of the past and to herself.

"This is Delarist's Tower," she said in a hushed tone. Her gaze drifted over to the stone structure, just visible from where they stood. "The canyon below us is where Prince Estel made his last stand. It's been lost for ages."

No one spoke for a moment; Kyan studied his boots again, mouthed wow and darted a glance over at Tor, who wore an expression of contemplation.

Flynn had never been a dedicated student of history; he was taught the basics in his early days as a knight, heard some stories through the years, but this was not one with which he was familiar. Even as Commandant, there were simply too many rulers to keep track of them all, certainly not tales of princes who died before they could ever sit the throne. It was intriguing, though—when he had thought of the tower as a lost relic, he had not imagined it could be an important one.

"Thank you, Estellise. As always, you are a master storyteller." Flynn smiled, while Estellise dipped her head in slightly embarrassed acknowledgement.

"You guys?" Rita, who had apparently walked over at some point during Estellise's narration, spoke up from beside her. "Do you hear that? Maybe we should move away from the cliff…"

Flynn stopped to listen; faintly, a grinding noise, stone on stone. In wordless agreement, everyone backed away several paces as the noise grew louder until it abruptly stopped with a metallic clang. It had come from below, reverberating on the canyon walls for several seconds after.

"That sounded like old gears grinding together," said Rita, who would know. "We're definitely not alone."

Despite his near-certainty of the extremists' presence there, ice settled in Flynn's stomach. Had they opened a gate of some kind? There was no way for anyone to immediately reach the visitors at the top of the canyon, at least—to get between the two points, one would have to walk a narrow trail that switched back and forth along the cliff face. Flynn hoped that they had managed to conceal themselves quickly enough and wondered how long they could safely remain there. Whether the echo of sound and voices worked both ways.

"As I suspected. Now that it's confirmed, may I suggest a plan of action…"

He had everyone's attention, eight pairs of eyes on him, blue and green and brown. The Tecarri woman, for whom the matter was of little concern, seemed to be listening out of curiosity. Flynn stood firm, let the words fall sharp in the desert air.

"We attack. Immediately."

Kyan's mouth opened and closed. "What, like…now? Sir?"

Beside him, Tor rolled his eyes emphatically.

"Of course not now. We'd have to get the rest of the knights. If this is even a good idea." He darted a nervous glance over at Flynn, who frowned.

"We discussed this, Altiren. The element of surprise will not last long. They may even know we're here already."

He ran a hand over sweat-dark red curls, expelled a breath that sounded thick with frustration. "And if they have prisoners? We'd be risking their lives, sir."

"You know your part in this," said Flynn, letting the statement speak for itself. Tor understood the plan; they had discussed every contingency at length in the morning's early hours.

Tor laughed with a touch of bitterness, and even Kyan looked startled. "With all due respect, sir," he said, sounding anything but, "the honor of scouting ahead and rescuing prisoners is dubious at best, considering the blind risk involved. What happened to watch and wait?"

"Tor…" Estellise frowned, laying a hand along his arm. "I trust Flynn. Are you feeling alright?"

He smiled down at her, tight and brief, melting a little back into himself. "I'm…a little overheated. It just seems like we don't know enough yet. About numbers, about the tower itself. Sir…it could be a bloodbath. I don't like those kind of odds."

Flynn tilted his head, acknowledging these concerns. Still, he refused to repeat Dahngrest, a month of observation and information gathering that had resulted in the tragic death of a friend, his murderer killed out of anger and a desire for revenge. Considering everything, their plan was the best option that Flynn could determine—active, rather than passive. He made sure that everyone could hear him clearly.

"We will return here tonight, before the moon rises. For now, we should go back and make our preparations."

As they marched back along a trail of stone and sand, Flynn thought about trust: who to place it in, how far someone could go before it breaks. There was still ice in his stomach, heavy and bitter cold.

Out of sheer force of habit, Yuri entered the capital city through the Lower Quarter's gate. It was the more indirect route, especially with the castle as his ultimate destination, but it didn't quite feel right coming in any other way. He and Judy left Ba'ul to do whatever it was that the Entelexeia did whenever he wasn't ferrying them around. When Yuri had asked Judy about it once, she had claimed breezily that Ba'ul was very private about such things. But her eyes shone like it was a private joke, and he wondered not for the first time what exactly transferred through those antennae of hers when they communicated.

As they strode up the ramp that ran along the quarter's canal, Yuri was doing a mental countdown. Four. Three. Two.

"Yuri!"

His arm was clasped heartily as Hanks approached. The older man liked to pretend that Yuri was a troublemaking nuisance that the Lower Quarter was better off rid of—and Yuri himself wasn't all that inclined to disagree—but it was belied by the gruff affection reflected in his eyes, the way they crinkled a little at the corners. He exchanged nods with Judy, reached out to Repede, who deigned to let him briefly scratch behind his ear.

"So," he said, arms crossed. "What brings you back to our corner of the world? More trouble, I'd wager. Doubt you've come all this way for a hot meal at the Comet, though they'd whip one up for you if ya poked your head in."

There was something about the light in this square, how the setting sun crept over the rooftops, through alleyways and cracked mortar, streaks and pools of golden warmth that lingered like the last days of summer. Yuri knew that if he touched the paving stones, the fountain's rim, they'd radiate that heat, would be dry and rough beneath his fingers. This was what it meant when they said 'home.'

"Yeah," said Yuri. "I know."

Some part of him wanted to watch the blue-gray shadows seep into familiar corners, slowly edging out the sun; he gazed up at the deepening blue of that patch of sky between the buildings, where as a kid he had often watched the clouds chase each other and dissolve. He smiled, tilted his head, and kept walking.

Yuri wanted to reach the castle before dusk. It wasn't, he told himself, that he couldn't afford to spend much time in the Lower Quarter at that moment. Wasn't the fact that every face he met would ask how Flynn was doing, would tell stories from their childhood with a nudge and a smile. Even if news had spread, as it surely would have by now, of what had happened up at the castle—he was their golden boy, their local hero, always.

Flynn often told Yuri how they asked after him and sang his praises whenever he wasn't around. Yuri still wasn't sure if he believed him, whether he wanted to. The idea always put an itch between his shoulder blades that he wasn't sure what to do with.

The castle gates loomed before him, iron bars rising into points, flanked by guards, stiff and anonymous both. But that wasn't the way he was going. Like his entrance through the Lower Quarter, some habits just weren't meant to be broken. The guards stood aside to let Judy and Repede through; all of Brave Vesperia were friends of the castle, free to come and go by order of Ioder and the Council. She would bring a message to the fair-haired Imperial candidate, inform him of everything that happened as one of the only people that they knew they could trust.

The guards watched the Krityan, all long legs and swaying hips; Yuri scaled the walls.

This was another sensation he had memorized: his fingernails digging in between bricks and stone, pushing off with his feet, nothing beneath them but air and a nasty fall. Exhilaration, but no fear. But this time, when he reached up and felt the windowsill jutting out above him, it wasn't to rap on the glass until a pair of hunched shoulders turned from the desk to greet him with a weary smile.

The window was open; small miracles. Yuri swung his legs over and stood inside, dusting off his hands. Not much had changed, which was almost more disconcerting than if it had. On the bed, the sheets and covers were peeled back, slightly rumpled—that was new. But other than a few scattered personal items…

"Yuri Lowell."

Yeah, his name was going to get worn out one of these days, with as much as people seemed to like to say it. Yuri turned, smirk at the ready. Eyes bore into his—almond-shaped, vividly colored. It made him think of blood and sea-salt, when Sodia looked startled like that. He rested his palms on his hips and tried not to.

"Sodia. Or am I supposed to call you Commandant? I think I'll pass."

Her face settled into something closer to normal when it came to him—frustration, tinged with guilt. "Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be with Flynn?"

Once, that would have held a lot more bitterness. Sodia sounded tired instead, looked it when Yuri examined her more carefully. It must have come with the territory. He shrugged.

"Flynn's off being Flynn. I have my own business to deal with. Came to check on Captain Leblanc."

Since he and Flynn had left the city, no news had reached them on Leblanc's status; he'd been unconscious when they walked out through the castle gates. He hoped the man had recovered; he'd been given a captainship after the official resignation of the elusive Captain Schwann, and for as much grief as Yuri had caused him over the years, they had a grudging, unspoken respect for each other.

Sodia was wavering a little on her feet. She brought a hand up, fingers pressed against her temple. "He should be in his quarters. Do you need…"

"I can find it, thanks." Yuri waved his hand through the air as he walked across the room. Paused in the doorway, his head half-turned. "I know it's hard to believe, but even Flynn sleeps sometimes."

He didn't wait for a response.

At night, the halls seemed even longer than usual, echoing footsteps and candlelight reflected within their glossy floors. If the guards were surprised to see him, Yuri would never be able to tell. They stood at attention as always, faces shielded by helmet visors, posted at doors or patrolling. He asked one—briefly, monosyllabic—where he could find Leblanc, followed a maze of stairs and twisting corridors before he reached the captain's quarters. For once, he knocked.

On the other side, there was rustling and heavy movement, until the door finally swung open—nudged open by Leblanc's shoulder, propped on crutches. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and taped along his cheek, where shiny pink scar tissue was just visible along the edges. After staring for a moment at his unexpected visitor, he grunted and waved him in.

"Yuri Lowell," he said. "If only you had simply knocked on my door when I was trying to put you in jail all those times."

This coaxed a smirk out of Yuri. "You know I can't make it that easy."

Leblanc hissed, almost indiscernibly, as he set his crutches against an armchair and sunk down into it. "Of course not. If I'm not mistaken, I'd almost say you enjoyed stirring up the brigade and sending us all on a merry chase, Lowell."

"And I'd almost say you enjoyed the chasing." Yuri leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. "Good to see you up and kicking."

A snort, one brow raised as he regarded Yuri in the dim light. "Up and shuffling, more like. But not down for the count yet."

"Nah. I'm sure you'll be bellowing at me in no time."

Yuri's lips quirked; through the window, the moon was a bright crescent of white, creeping slowly above the rooftops.

Leblanc shifted in his chair with a fleeting grimace. "Well. As much as I make a habit of shooting the breeze with Zaphias' most wanted, I suspect this isn't a social visit."

"Hey, I got pardoned, remember?"

"Hmph."

"Anyway, you've heard about the extremists."

It wasn't a question. Leblanc nodded, stiffly. In his long years of service, the man had dealt with extremist plots more often than any other knight that Yuri knew of. It had to be killing him to be aware of their recent actions, to know they were planning something, and not be involved directly. Yuri wondered if anyone else had even thought to come to him like this. Considering Noran's apathy, he doubted it.

"So, I'm here to ask you for advice. Try not to keel over from shock."

Leblanc did look more than a little taken aback; after a moment, his mouth twitched.

"Is that right, Lowell. Didn't think I'd see the day." He laughed a little, low and under his breath. "I'm not going anywhere for a while, it seems, so I'll do what I can. What d'you need?"

"Names," said Yuri. "Locations, if you've got them. I need a place to start. Something big is about to go down here, and I don't want to be left holding the bag."

Leblanc's eyes flashed toward his, more alive and determined than the man that had hobbled to the door. "Hm. You and me both," he muttered, rummaging around on a side table for a sheet of paper and something to write with.

"Here's what I know for sure," he said, scrawling rapidly across the page. "Come back if it isn't enough; I'll see what I can do."

Yuri stepped away from the wall to take the list from Leblanc's outstretched hand.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll put this to good use."

They nodded to each other, and Yuri headed for the door. He paused just after passing the armchair when Leblanc began to speak once more.

"…Give Sir Schwann my regards. If you see him."

Yuri smiled, but didn't turn around.

"Got it. Will do."

Twilight swathed the desert in swiftly-cooling shadow. It was darkest here, where the canyon walls rose high and were untouched by the final gasps of daylight. As night fell, the tower's gates and parapets were lined with torches—most of the region's nocturnal monsters feared fire and hesitated to approach. Guards were posted in shifts of four hours, little to see but a strip of dark sand and stone in both directions, the occasional sharp-clawed bird swooping down for a meal.

The shape lumbering toward the current pair of guards in the distance was like a mirage at first, registered trance-like but unreal this late in their shift. They jostled to attention when it resolved into a cloaked rider, astride one of the shaggy beasts used for mounts and milk in the nearby village. It slowed to a trot at the far edge of the torchlight.

One of the guards cleared his throat before barking down from his post.

"There are arrows notched at every gap in these tower's walls, stranger." He wasn't sure if this was true, but it was close enough to remain a serious threat. "You'd best have good reason to be here."

The man—for man it had to be, tall with broad shoulders, no curve in the chest—let the beast's reins fall, lifted his hands slowly until they rested open and empty on either side of his head.

"I've come to warn you," he said. The hooded face briefly lifted to scan the sky. "I don't have much time, but…"

The second guard grunted. "Save your breath. We already know about the pitiful excuse for an attack that those Imperial dogs have planned."

The man tilted his head. "Do you? I see. Well, that makes things easier."

"I don't like men who are too cowardly to show their face," said the guard. His companion wondered wryly if he would be so bold if it were a Nameless One standing before him, rather than a defenseless stranger. "Show yourself, then, and state your business."

The rider slid back his hood with two hands, and his hair glinted like copper in the light of the torches.

"My name," he said, grim but confident, "is Tor. What would you say if I told you that I could get you Flynn Scifo?"

A/N: Ha, chapter is slightly earlier and longer than usual. But in a good way, I think. Hmm. I'm very curious to see what everyone makes of it all. (As a side note, I hope the whole "Estellise named after the prince" thing doesn't seem too contrived; when I was naming the brothers, it just felt right. Estel is pronounced like "est-uhl" rather than "est-ehl.")