And after the tragedy at Karaya Village, the first group we check in with is the… Zexen Knights? Anyway, see the first chapter for all the disclaimers and warnings.

~ * Tarnished Silver * ~

The clank of armored boots against stone echoed hollowly through the hallway. Chris Lightfellow held her head high with a confidence she didn't feel, her face schooled into the stoic mask of the proud commander. Her squire kept pace behind her, but the lad failed to keep anxiety from filling his gentle green eyes.

Chris rather envied the boy. Louis was only a lowly attendant; he wasn't expected to pretend aloofness, to act unattached to whatever horrors raged around him.

She caught many sympathetic looks being aimed their way. The citizens and soldiers of Brass Castle were very aware of the losses that had been incurred on the battlefield -- the same field that should have been the site of a meeting of peace, not war. The deaths of Sir Lanchet and Sir Myriam hit the fortress town especially hard, as both were local heroes, popular officers who now would have to be replaced. Chris didn't envy whoever would have to fill those shoes.

It would be so easy to pretend all of those pitying glances were being cast solely in Louis's direction. It was common knowledge that the squire of the Silver Maiden had also idolized Sir Myriam. They had shared an almost brotherly bond…

But Chris did not attempt such mental deception. She was very aware that the whispers spoke of far more than simply the loss of such noble men. The shadows also buzzed with rumors of the possibility of losing another popular knight to this tragedy.

Chris blinked rapidly, twice, thrice, ensuring the moisture she felt beginning to form in her eyes would not become anything more than a slight glisten in lavender irises. Her pace remained steady, a forced march that ended only when she reached the door she desired. One sharp rap on the banded wood, a moment's wait, then the portal swung open to reveal Salome.

"Come in, milady," he invited, stepping aside to admit his captain and her attendant.

Once they cleared the doorway, Salome eased it shut behind them and flicked the lock shut. They didn't need any unwanted visitors barging in, no matter how good their intentions may be. This was a matter for knights' ears alone.

The tactician's face was deeply lined, his deep green eyes speaking of exhaustion keenly felt in every bone in his body. Still, he held himself at attention, watching as the Silver Maiden crossed the chamber to stand beside the simple cot set up in the corner.

Borus Redrum lay there, stripped of his normal trappings. Rolls upon rolls of off-white cloth bandages replaced his knightly attire, some cleaner than others. A thick woven blanket was draped over his form, motionless save for the faint rise and fall of his swathed chest, leaving only his head and the top of his shoulders visible.

His sword lay off to one side atop a pile of what little remained of his battle garments. The top half of his armor had been unsalvageable, difficult enough to pry off his body without aggravating his already grievous wounds any more. The leg guards and boots, while mostly useless without their ruined mate, had been set aside, the still bloodstained fabric of the shredded bronze-trimmed robe underneath folded over that.

Roland sat atop a crate beside that pitiful pile, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed. At any other time, his comrades would have found such a position unusual for the dignified elf to place himself in. However, at this point it barely seemed worth noted. His condition was far preferable to that of the Swordsman of Rage.

The archer had only strayed from his injured associate's side once, parting ways with the others when they first reached the fortress's walls. He hadn't informed them of his reasons, letting his actions speak his defense when he returned with a Wind Rune newly embedded in his left hand and several containers of the strongest healing medicine sold in Brass Castle tucked in his pack. His Great Hawk rune was safely stored in a pouch on his belt.

Since his return, the elven knight had assisted the tactician in the long, arduous task of carefully stripping the swordsman of his armor and treating his wounds. Winds of sleep kept their younger comrade unconscious during their grim labor, wrapping him in blessed slumber as they cast healing spells upon his battered body.

Now both Salome and Roland were drained dry of magic. Rest would replenish those reservoirs, yet neither was inclined to resign himself to relaxation while one of their own lay suffering.

Gazing upon the results of their wearisome task, Chris wished she could find the heart to compliment them on their work. Somehow, the praise failed to come to her lips. Truly, they had worked a small miracle, and it was a testament to their skills and ability to work together so quickly and effectively that their patient was even still alive.

But…

(This can't be Borus. He's too still, too pale…)

Chris shook her head slowly, eyes squeezing shut so they wouldn't relay the harsh truth of the matter to her comprehending yet stubborn brain. Reality currently clashed too much with her memory of the Swordsman of Rage.

Borus was supposed to be stomping about Brass Castle right now complaining about the treachery of the savages, not lying before her as a visual reminder of the results of such a deceitful display on behalf of the barbarians.

Louis shifted uncomfortably, finding the floorboards a far more bearable sight than the comatose knight was. The grim faces of his companions held little comfort for the lad. His eyes watered, but he didn't cry; if the knights could restrain their emotions, then so could he. What kind of squire would he be if he couldn't even follow the example his superiors set?

It was Salome who finally broke the silent tension gathering in the room, though his weary tone hinted he held no real desire to. Though he looked in Chris's direction, his gaze was averted away from her face, as if he wished not to make eye contact with his commander should she open her eyes.

"Milady, a summons has arrived from the Council regarding the failed negotiations yesterday," he reported.

Chris did open her eyes, though no more than a sliver. The pale lavender irises remained mostly veiled by her lashes, still fixated on the comatose Swordsman of Rage.

"News travels quickly," she observed, an undeniable twinge of bitterness in her tone.

"Several messengers did depart for Vinay once our forces began arriving back here in full," the tactician replied.

Chris allowed her eyes to briefly drift closed again, then abruptly turned away from the bed to face the rest of her companions. When they reopened, the firm visage of the Silver Maiden was back in place.

"I will have Roland and Louis accompany me back to the capital. Salome, you stay here and keep an eye on the movements of the Grasslanders."

"As you wish, milady," replied Salome with a courteous nod.

"Roland, how soon can you be prepared to depart?" she queried of the elven cavalier.

"If milady permits, I need only time to return my rune to its intended station," responded Roland, standing up even while speaking.

"Then do so," Chris nodded dismissal. Turning next to face her squire, she ordered, "Louis, I will prepare as well. Will you please check on our horses and ensure they are ready for a trip back to the capital?"

"Of course," and Louis forced a small smile along with his salute. "I'll have them ready and waiting at the gates, then, milady."

"Thank you, Louis."

The squire hurried off for the stables, Roland striding out at a much slower and more dignified pace. Chris followed shortly thereafter, leaving Salome alone with his patient. The strategist sighed, sinking further back into his seat, green eyes studying the younger knight.

(There was no choice given the circumstances,) he silently reminded himself. (Had we not raided the village, the allied Grasslanders would have slain far more of our men.)

Looking at the grievously wounded Borus, however, Salome wondered if the fallout from that decision would turn out to be worse than the alternative.

~ * ~

Experience with the Council's propensity to keep their precious Silver Maiden circulating through Zexen territory taught Chris how to prepare quickly and efficiently for departure. She bought a few vials of C-type Medicine from one of the local shopkeepers -- there was always the off chance she and Roland might run into one of the more powerful denizens of the forest. While the Council did supply high-quality medicine to their knights, Chris didn't want to waste any of it on whatever scrapes they might gain during their trip.

One brief session with the resident trainer later, Chris decided she was adequately prepared for the trip and started toward the gates. She wasn't overly surprised to encounter the other two members of the Six Mighty Knights in front of the fortress exit. From the solemn expressions on Leo and Percival's faces she knew that both were already aware of the situation.

"Lady Chris, is it true what the rumors claim?" Leo asked with an anxiety that was unusual for the axewielder. "Sir Myriam, Sir Lanchet and Sir Borus were all killed by the Grasslanders' betrayal at the treatise?"

"Almost. Borus is still alive, though admittedly in terrible condition," Chris gently corrected her comrade-in-arms. Her lavender eyes frosted as she went on, "However, the rest is sadly true. Sir Lanchet and Sir Myriam were killed in the attack."

Relief and regret colored the eyes of both swordsman and axeman at this report. While the revelation that one of their own was still alive was comforting, both had held on to the slim hope that all of the rumors they'd overheard were false. Still, some good news was better than none at all.

"Treacherous savages," muttered Leo, shaking his head. "If I had only managed to capture those dogs…"

"Dogs?" echoed Chris, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, that's…"

"It's a sorry story indeed, Lady Chris," Percival interjected with a knowing smirk. "Suffice to say a couple of strays gave us the runaround. But this is hardly the time or place for such frivolities."

He lost his smile as he said this last. Chris nodded, then quietly pointed them in the direction of Borus's room. That done, both groups went their separate ways, Leo and Percival off to check on their wounded friend while Chris met her party at the gates.

Roland was already mounted while Louis stood beside her white stallion with the reins ready. Chris thanked her squire and took her seat. She didn't bother asking her elven companion if he had taken care of his business: she knew Roland well enough that the question would be meaningless.

"Are you prepared to depart, milady?" he asked.

"Yes, let's go," replied the captain. "The Council is surely waiting for our arrival."

With that, the two knights spurred their horses forward at a leisurely trot, with Louis following behind the riders. It was generally considered part of a squire's training for them to go without any sort of steed and the fact that he was apprenticed to one of the Six Mighty Knights made him the rule rather than the exception.

~ * ~

As Chris expected, the fact that it was only Roland, Louis and herself affected the rate at which they seemed to encounter monsters little. Holly Shrubs and Holly Fairies proved little real threat to the commander and archer, though the annoying little things chose to swarm the riders for a while.

Still, the most interesting thing they ran into on the road back was far from some local monster. As they followed the weaving pathway toward the edge of the forest, a pair of travelers came into view. One was clad in onyx armor, and looked disapprovingly down upon his panting, bent over partner.

"Uh… Master Fred, really," pleaded the younger traveler, "let's take a break for a bit… Please, Master Fred…"

"You just don't get it, do you, Rico?" the armored fighter shook his head, sounding disappointed. He launched into a speech that he sounded used to reciting: "If we rest, even for a moment, evil will prevail. Don't ever forget that, kid."

"I won't, Master. Really!"

Looking back up, the other shouldered her backpack, which looked almost as big as she was. She then gasped, looking past her partner to where Chris, Roland and Louis stood. Her already rosy dimples flushed red, and she ducked her head in a clumsy bow.

"Hmm?" the warrior turned around to see what she was looking at and stared intently at Chris.

"……… Looking for something?" Chris finally prompted, sick of being gaped at.

"Your armor… I suppose you are Zexen knights."

"You are quite right," replied Chris, nodding curtly before prompting, "And who might you be?"

"Allow me, madam." The swordsman executed a bow, then stood upright, proclaiming, "Fred Maximillian, the captain of the Maximillian Knights, at your service. I came from afar to carry out my grandfather's wish to conquer evil. I would like to learn anything you know that could help me."

"Greetings, Sir Fred. I am Chris Lightfellow of the Zexen Knights," Chris introduced herself. Uncertainty entered her voice as she inquired, "Just what do you mean, 'conquer evil'? Do you know anything about this, Roland?"

"…No, milady," the archer replied shortly with a curt shake of his head.

"There's a dark-skinned she-devil with a bow said to be running about wreaking chaos, accompanied by a lad and a duck-man," Fred supplied helpfully.

"Hmm…"

"I see," Fred said shortly, sensing he would not find the answers he sought here. "Sorry to have bothered you."

Chris didn't reply. The Maximillian knight looked down at the ground, grinding his teeth together briefly.

"Damn! I couldn't find a lead here, either…" he complained. Turning back to his companion, he proclaimed, "Rico, it seems we are off track. Let's head further north!"

"Yes, sir, yes!" nodded Rico enthusiastically. "But… could we rest for a few seconds?"

Completely ignoring her, Fred turned back to face Chris and nodded shortly, stating "We'll be off then. Safe travels to you."

With that, he turned and started up the higher path, while Rico gasped and hastily reshouldered her massive pack again.

"Sir! Wait!" she called out, giving chase. "Just a minute… I'm coming! Wait for me!"

Chris watched the pair hurry off, a softness touching her pale violet eyes briefly.

"I hope you find what you seek," she murmured quietly.

"…Hn. Evil is very much in the eye of the beholder," Roland observed in his usual dispassionate manner. "Seeking to eradicate it completely, while a noble cause, is also foolish. Such naiveté is unbecoming of a knight."

"I've never heard of the Maximillian knights before," Louis commented. "But he looked strong, anyway. I'm sure they'll be alright."

"……"

Chris nodded absently, uncertain how to reply to either of her companions. She then flicked the reins once, urging her ivory steed forward. Debates about the validity of such concepts as fighting 'evil' could come later. The Council was waiting for the return of their Silver Maiden…