Renault walked through the busy marketplace, his footsteps drowned out by the hustle and bustle of Bulgar's citizenry. He certainly presented a strange sight—few Eliminean priests were possessed of his chiseled features and toned muscles—but the commercial center of Sacae found many outlandish travelers passing through it, and the bishop drew little attention as he worked his way through the crowd. Striding briskly past an armory and a blacksmith, the bishop was reminded of what he hoped was the last war he would ever have to fight in. It had been weeks since Eliwood's army had returned victorious from the Dread Isle, but Renault still remembered the final battle with Nergal as if it happened yesterday.

The bishop was no stranger to combat, and had seen many wars in his supernaturally long life. Before taking on the vestments of Elimine, he himself had cut short many lives at the end of a blade. Yet the end of Eliwood's campaign was truly unrivalled by anything Renault had experienced before. He had never encountered opponents as implacable as Nergal's twisted morphs, nor had he ever seen dark magic comparable to the warlock's black arcana. Even more memorable than the villains of Valor, however, were the heroes that rose to meet them. Renault would never forget the image of the pirate's axe smashing through morphs left and right, or the Archsage Athos finally defeating Nergal, ripping apart his shield of darkness with the holy power of the Arial spell. And, of course, there was the dragon Nergal unleashed with his dying breath. Renault smiled as he imagined bards all across the land retelling the story of Eliwood's desperate charge against the beast, spurring his mount through its fiery breath and thrusting the Durandal straight through its scaly chest.

Despite all the great warriors he met in Eliwood's army, the extraordinary adventures he had, a single face stood out from all the others in the turbulent seas of Renault's memory. He sighed as he thought again of Lyndis, her beauty surpassed only by the clarity that shone within her bright green eyes. Renault did not say a single word to her after the campaign was over. He had disappeared in the night as if he never existed, and he wondered if the first friend he had in years took any note of his departure.

"What foolishness." he murmured to himself, his voice lost in the din of the marketplace. "Why would she remember a pilgrim like me? She has likely forgotten I exist by now…"

Lost in his own thoughts, the distracted bishop didn't notice the woman walking straight towards him until he crashed into her. She reeled back, losing hold of the heavy bag she was carrying. It crashed to the ground, spilling forth its contents of food, blankets and other necessities.

"Forgive me, madam," Renault said, ashamed of his absent-mindedness. "I should have been more careful. Please, allow me to assist you."

"It's alright, I'm fine." the woman laughed, and bent down to collect her provisions. But when she looked up at the bishop, her eyes widened in shock. "Renault?"

The pilgrim stepped back, taken completely by surprise. He had honestly never expected to see that soft skin, that flowing hair, and those beautiful, verdant eyes again, but here they were. "Lyndis?" he gaped. "I…I apologize, I didn't expect to see you here!"

"Neither did I, Your Excellency." Sadness dimmed her eyes for a moment, and she burst forth with a question. "Where have you been? You simply vanished after the last battle…I didn't even have a chance to bid you farewell!"

Renault smiled. It warmed his heart to see his earlier predictions were wrong—Lyndis did remember him. "I'm sorry, Lyndis. I…did not wish to trouble you. I am on a pilgrimage, after all. I thought it was best to head off to my next destination as…quietly…as possible."

"I understand, Renault. But what brings you to Bulgar?"

"Nothing of great importance…I merely needed to purchase a few supplies, and then I would continue on my journey."

"So you won't be staying in Sacae for very long? This truly is a beautiful land. Are you not allowed to see what it has to offer?"

Renault shook his head. "I am not a tourist, Lyndis. I'm not journeying for sightseeing."

She drew back, and though she was still smiling, Renault could see he had hurt the girl. "I…apologize, Lyndis," he said. "I didn't mean to insult your homeland. Sacae is a lovely place…but the responsibilities of my pilgrimage will not allow me to enjoy such things. Please understand."

"I do, Your Excellency. But…" Lyndis looked down for a moment, concern etched into her features.

"What is it, Lyndis?"

She looked up at her friend. "You seem so…tired, Renault."

The old priest blinked, and stepped back. Wandering for so long, this was the first time he realized it. He was tired. So long had he walked the face of Elibe, and only now did he realize how heavy those steps were becoming. Weariness permeated every bone in his body. His heart beat laboriously within his chest, and the bishop understood the full weight of the pain, guilt, and regret it carried across all his travels. He gazed at Lyndis, the woman who perceived what nobody else, not even he, could see.

"You're right, Lyndis," he sighed. "I am…tired. Very…tired."

She smiled knowingly. "It's not just your body that's worn out, Renault. I've seen my fair share of battles, and if fatigue was all you were suffering from, you could have just spent the night in an inn…"

The bishop merely nodded.

"Then why don't you spend some time in Sacae, Father?" Lyndis asked. "You body and soul are exhausted. You need a reprieve from your journey, Renault. Let me show you Sacae. Let me show you the plains I grew up on. I'll even let you stay in my home for a night! It may not be much, but you need rest…"

Renault shook his head. "I…I shouldn't, Lyndis. It isn't…proper. I should not place a burden upon you." He quickly turned and began to walk away, closing his eyes and trying to deny what he so desperately wanted. His penance would allow him no respite, and it was his duty to resist temptation.

Lyndis would not let him escape so easily, however. She grabbed the bishop's arm, pulling him towards her. "Please, Renault!" she cried, refusing to let him go. "Just one night…please…"

Renault was taken aback by the young woman's desperation. Yet as he looked at her face, he saw something more than concern for a simple pilgrim. Tears brimmed along the edges of her verdant eyes, and her lips trembled in a silent plea for his assent. The bishop realized that his companionship was important to this woman—she needed him.

A pang of guilt darkened the bishop's heart for a moment. He was a clergyman, and he had vows to uphold. His pilgrimage would allow him no wasteful dalliances to distract from his atonement. And in any case, by staying with the girl, he risked encouraging her infatuation with him, and would inevitably cause her pain.

He looked again at the distraught woman clinging to his arm. She truly did need him. How could he simply abandon her when all she desired was someone by her side? If his companionship was all she asked, he'd be a poor bishop indeed if he denied her that simple kindness.

And in any case, it wasn't as if they were running off on some lurid tryst together. She was simply offering him rest and repose, and the weary bishop desperately needed them. What was the harm in staying with her for a single night?

"Very well, Lyn," the bishop smiled. "My pilgrimage will do me little good if I am too exhausted to learn from it. A single night under your roof will do me no harm."

Lyndis beamed, clearly overjoyed by the priest's decision. Now holding his hand rather than his arm, she led him out of Bulgar's gates and towards the green ocean beyond.

Renault sighed as he walked across the grassy plains, and for once, his exhalation was a sign of satisfaction. The cool summer breeze swept over his face like a restorative balm, washing away all the troubles and cares of his weary heart. The fresh, clean air that filled his lungs infused his soul with new vigor. Renault felt the broadest, most sincere smile in years spread over his face. Lyndis watched her contented friend, warmed by the lift in spirits she had been able to affect in him.

"Lyn…you were correct." the bishop remarked." It seems this detour has been…good for me. I thank you."

"There's no need, Renault. I'm just glad to see a smile on your face."

The two friends walked silently together for the rest of the trip. Words were unnecessary to convey the serenity they both felt. The beauty of the quiet plains intermingled with the warmth of their companionship created a sort of intangible barrier around them, and not even the passage of time could intrude upon their shared sanctuary. Hours passed like minutes, and neither was aware of anything more than the soft whistle of the wind and the delicate crunch of grass under their partner's footsteps. Neither noticed that dusk had fallen when they reached their destination, an unassuming round hut—a ger, a traditional Sacaen dwelling.

"We're here!" Lyndis exclaimed. "This is my home. It's not much, but it will at least provide a roof over your head."

"It will suffice." Renault smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, Lyndis. I am indebted to you."

"Think nothing of it, Your Excellency."

They entered the small hut together, and it became obvious Lyn was not a rich woman. The walls of her hut bore no adornment other than traditional and ruggedly utilitarian Sacaen drapes. She had furnished her home with little more than simple cabinets, chests, and drawers, which contained little more than clothes and foodstuffs. A small cot in the center of the hut served as Lyndis' bed, but she relinquished that comfort for her guest. The plainswoman laid out a blanket upon the bare floor of the ger for herself.

Despite the spartan décor of his lodging, Renault found it not at all disagreeable. Indeed, he felt a certain comfort in the midst of a Sacaen's frugality. The place had wholesomeness, a purity, which would have been obscured by the ostentatious trappings of nobility. During his travels as a mercenary, the bishop had seen many a palace bedecked in all manner of opulence, yet such splendor had never evoked in Renault the same sense of security he felt within the walls of Lyndis' home.

Despite the coziness of her abode, however, Renault sensed an underlying gloom inside its confines. Loneliness permeated every inch of the little ger, and as Renault wandered about the small dwelling, he could feel the weight of the isolation Lyndis lived under—isolation almost as acute as his own. And as he watched the girl survey her empty hut with a sort of resigned sadness, he felt again that Lyndis had reasons other than simple generosity for bringing him here.

"This is a pleasant home, Lyn." Renault said. "Surely you share it with someone else?"

Lyndis shook her head. "I…live here alone."

"Is that so? I remember you mentioning to me that your mother was the daughter of the marquess of Caelin…could you not return there?"

"No, your excellency. My grandfather…died…a month ago. I abdicated rule of Caelin to Ostia and returned to the plains of my birth…"

"I see…Lyn, I apologize for my intrusion. Please accept my condolences on your loss."

"It is alright, Your Excellency." She looked down at the floor for a moment, then straight into Renault's eyes. "Father…please…if you could do one more favor for me…"

The priest nodded. "What would you ask of me?"

"Can…can you answer me one question?"

"I will try."

Lyndis sat down upon her cot, and invited Renault to do the same. She closed her eyes, sighed, and began. "We fought together on the Dread Isle. We fought together in the final battle against Nergal. You've seen me in combat…I am a skilled warrior, am I not?"

"You are, Lyn. One of the finest I've met."

"And yet…" her lips trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears. "And yet…what good has it done me?"

Renault blinked. "Lyndis? What do you mean?"

"My grandfather was the only family I had left. When I joined with Eliwood and Hector, I thought only of protecting him. Nergal's assassins had already made an attempt on his life, and I wanted to ensure they never did again. I traveled all across Elibe, fighting battle after battle, to stop Nergal and protect my grandfather. And when we finally defeated that blackheart, I thought I could finally see my grandfather again…"

"Lyn…you cannot blame yourself for your grandfather's death. He was old, and he was a human being. There was nothing you could have done."

"Then what was the point?" Lyndis cried, and tears ran freely down her cheeks. "I fought so hard…won so many battles…and I still couldn't save my grandfather. Why…what was it all for? Please…tell me…"

Renault was silent for a moment. He looked straight into Lyndis' wet eyes. "This is the true reason you brought me here…is it not?"

"I…I'm sorry, Renault." Lyndis sniffled. "I…I've been alone so long…I needed someone to talk to…please, forgive me. I was selfish…I'm…I'm so sorry…"

The bishop shook his head. "It's alright, Lyn. I am a man of the cloth…it is my responsibility to help those in need…and to be honest…I…understand how you feel. More than you know."

Lyndis blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I told you I used to be a mercenary. But…a long, long time ago…I…I used to work for Nergal."

Lyndis gasped in astonishment. "You were allied with Nergal?"

"I am old, Lyn. Very old. But once, I was young. And in my youth, I was foolish. I lived a brutal, violent life. I killed innumerable people for my own ends. But on one day, that all changed…I lost…my best friend…the man who had stood by me through all my terrible exploits. When he died, I wanted only one thing…to bring him back to me…"

Lyndis stared at him silently, and Renault could not tell if she was judging him or not. Regardless, he pressed on with his story.

"I wandered, blinded by my heartbreak…I was vulnerable. I was an easy target…and Nergal took advantage of that. His voice called out to me in the night…and I followed it. When I found him, I became his assistant. He promised to bring my friend back to me…and I believed him. I swallowed his lies, and helped him in his dark schemes…I helped him create his morphs…all because I thought he would revive my dead friend…"

"So you were taken in by Nergal as well?" Lyndis asked. "That foul monster…he has deceived so many people for his own ends…"

Renault shook his head. "Nergal is a liar, Lyndis…that is true. But I was a monster long before I met him. And I suppose Nergal is the one who showed me the error of my ways. When I was his servant, I committed crimes worse than any I ever had before…I slaughtered so many people to satiate his voracious appetite for quintessence. And then one day, I had finally acquired enough for him to fulfill his promise to me…he had enough to bring back my dead friend…but I was fooled. The creature he brought forth…was nothing more than a puppet. There was no light in its yellow eyes…it was just a soulless mannequin. I lashed out at my master, desiring revenge for his deception. Yet even the greatest mercenary in Elibe was no match for him. He banished me…cursed me into something less than human. And on that day…I learned that all my skill with a blade, all my amazing prowess in battle…could not bring my friend back to me…"

"Renault…"

"I understand exactly how you feel, my friend. I learned just the same lesson. A blade can end a thousand lives, but it cannot bring back a single one."

"So…it was all for nothing, then!" Lyndis shouted. "I fought so hard…I fought for my grandfather…but I'll never see him again!"

The bishop simply looked into the girl's grief-stricken eyes, unperturbed by her outburst. "It is true, Lyn. All your valor, heroism, and triumphs in battle were not enough to stay your grandfather's death…but they did stop great evil from consuming the land he loved. And at the very least, I believe they made him proud."

Lyndis shrank back, her eyes wide. She had never seen it that way before.

"Though I understand the way you feel, there is still a great difference between us, Lyndis. I fought for nothing more than myself…I killed simply for my own selfishness. But you fought for what you believed in…you fought to protect those you loved. If it were not for your efforts, all of Elibe would be nothing but ashes. Would not the Marquess of Caelin be happier with the knowledge that it was his daughter who saved his land?"

"Renault, I…" Lyndis smiled and wiped away her tears. "I thank you. You…you're the first person who ever said anything like that to me."

As he looked at her face, Renault could see her smile was genuine. For the first time since her grandfather's death, the young woman could feel something other than grief. "There's no need to thank me. As I said, it was merely my responsibility." The bishop smiled. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lyn…it truly means much to me. But I believe I should continue my pilgrimage as soon as possible…I have…a long road ahead of me."

He began to stand up, but suddenly, Lyndis hugged him with all of her might. "Wait, Renault!" she cried. "Please…don't leave yet. Stay with me…stay close to me…just for a while…just for this night…"

"Lyn?" The startled bishop began, but he saw words would be fruitless. He could do nothing more than return the girl's embrace. And as he did, he saw that his worst premonitions had come to pass.

She loved him.

And as he held her in his arms, Renault realized he loved her as well. She was the first person he had ever been able to talk so freely with, and he was the first man she was able to open her heart to. He felt more content next to this kindhearted plainswoman than he ever had before, and within his embrace, Lyndis was allowed to feel the affection and love fate had denied her for years.

Renault held Lyndis closer to him, and she offered no resistance. He felt her soft, luxurious skin, her hands caressing the taut flesh of his back. He felt the warmth of her breath upon his neck, and he felt the heat of her firm breasts against his chest. The girl's pliant, supple body bent within his arms, guided by his will. For the first time in centuries, the bishop's cheeks flushed with red, and he realized he could have this woman.

It had been a very, very long time since Renault had enjoyed any sort of carnal pleasure, and this was perhaps the first time a woman was giving herself to him of her own volition. And would it truly be such a terrible thing to accept her advances? The bishop had wandered for years on his solitary pilgrimage. He had lived the austere life of a clergyman long enough. Was he not allowed a single night of bliss?

Yet the bishop knew the answer would inevitably be no. Wherever he felt Lyn's delicate, skin, his gnarled, callused hands left tiny lacerations in their wake. As he felt the warmth of Lyndis' breath, he felt the chill of his own. The Sacaen's rich, loamy scent filled his nostrils, but underneath it was Renault's own aroma, the dry, dusty odor of secrets best left forgotten, and the noxious, sinister stench of forbidden texts best left closed. Holding this innocent girl in his arms, Renault was reminded of the humanity he had long since sacrificed, and as her fingers entwined themselves through his robes, he was reminded of the priestly vows he had taken.

He was a wanderer, condemned to be forever separated from the mass of humanity. He could never make this poor girl happy, and it would be cruel of him to continue the farce.

Renault simply held Lyndis, no more. She didn't mind. And after a while, her eyes closed with drowsiness rather than rapture, and her breath eased and slowed into a soft, steady rhythm. The bishop smiled, stood up, and gently laid the sleeping girl upon her bed. He lightly kissed her forehead, and silently exited out into the night.

"The plains are even more beautiful at night," Renault murmured to himself. The soft wind lavished him with its soothing touch, and the constellations glimmering above formed a starlit tapestry in the clear night sky. The silver light of the moon basked all the plains in an argent sheen, and the bishop felt a twinge of sadness as he realized he would never share a sight like this with Lyndis. He shook his head, accepting his fate as the truly righteous path. As he returned to his pilgrimage, only the moon and stars bore witness to his departure. The only traces of his existence he left behind him were his footprints tramped into the yielding grass, and after a while, the wind wiped even these away.