This chapter takes place before Chapter 10 in SFTD.

Storms were always an ordeal.

Even if Edgar had never walked among the Reapers as one of their own, he had learned of his own accord why they feared the things they did. Rain, for one. The ravens were built for the outdoors, to be outside constantly. He was not. Prolonged exposure to the elements would be a death knell for him, even for as bundled up as he was.

So when the percussion of thunder rang in the distance, a quiet dread gripped Edgar. He had been having his ravens watch the sky and silently hoping that the overcast wouldn't turn for the worse, but whatever god was out there, the Elders must've been obstructing them. After all, if there had been a merciful god at all, the Elders would've never touched ground. But, Edgar figured he would've never met his "court," either. Then again…

Shaking his head, Edgar half-turned the way he came. He was right between two Havens, by his judging. Advancing would be continuing his task and going to go for materials he'd use to beef up his coat–but it would bring him closer to the storm. Retreating would bring him into safety, but delay his errand. Choices…

He turned his head, regarding Nevermore, who sat on his shoulder. He and his companion shared a low mind-link with as close as they were and the irradiated raven seemed to get the question he was about to ask. "I think we should go forwards," Nevermore croaked. "You have already made the effort to walk this far, and night will be falling. I can send the scouts ahead to see how far the storm is."

Edgar nodded. "Very well. All else fails, I suppose you may extend your wings and act as an umbrella." He joked, but with Nevermore's size? It'd be viable.

Nevermore, however, took it literally, looking back to the path. "If it keeps you from illness, I will. I'll let them know of the plan." With that, Edgar could feel Nevermore sending out a pulse, and through Nevermore's eyes, he watched as some of his omen in the trees took flight, disappearing into the trees ahead.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Edgar took to walking once more. As loathe as he was to advance towards the storm, he could find shelter in the haven ahead. He was well-known around these parts—he did not possess the title Raven King for nothing—so room and board until the storm passed would be assured. It would just be the matter of getting there in a timely fashion.

Feeling a stick break under his foot, Edgar furrowed his brow and requested to look through Nevermore's eyes. With a burst of color, Edgar could see the world around him. The forest was getting denser in the direction they were walking in, and the floor was getting draped with fallen branches. Not wanting to stir up too much noise, Edgar kept his steps light and precise. Years of walking on his own like this lent to a natural stalk that only a Reaper could outmatch.

The trek was quiet. His ravens had nothing of note to report other than the storm. Even if there was nothing occurring, Edgar felt a teensy bit on edge, waiting for something to disturb the stillness. He even requested Nevermore to angle his head around, searching for threats of his own volition. It wasn't as if he didn't trust his court—Edgar had learned a natural paranoia through his time of wandering alone. He just... couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

Outside of more rumbles of closer thunder, nothing did. The forest broke, and Edgar stepped into a man-made clearing, the haven proudly standing in front of him. This had been one of the more well-developed havens he'd visited; if their leader was to be believed, they'd been host to XCOM themselves once or twice. I'll believe it when I see it, was his thoughts on the matter. He firmly believed in XCOM, though if he would join was another matter. If they wouldn't accept his court, then that was that.

With confident strides, Edgar made his way into town. There were people about, bringing in clothes from laundry lines and hoisting tarps to protect more vulnerable shelters. As his omen drew in their ranks closer to him, he saw through Nevermore's eyes how their heads turned, how one or two of them even perked up in recognition. Edgar lifted his head and eased into his more regal pace as he was in town proper. He had an image to uphold, after all.

As much as they recognized him, it seemed the residents were content to steer clear for now, more busy finishing up the preparations for the oncoming storm. He was certain there were rain collectors for the precious water, and he'd been to a haven or two before that had rudimentary machines that could draw power from lightning. He left them to their duties, focused on a shack central in town.

Rounding it to the door, he knocked. "Bastion." Edgar always sounded like he had a frog in his throat, and this was no exception. Maybe he played it up a little for anyone outside of his court... "I've come with supplies from Tranquility Falls."

"Ah, come in, Edgar!" Was the response from inside, and Edgar opened the door, letting himself in. The inside of the improvised home was a little homely, but there had been care put into the construction and little sentimentals added over time. The man that went by the codename "Bastion" was sitting at a desk. He was in his fifties at most, and it wasn't hard to tell he was ex-military. Edgar sat down as his ravens filed in, the last one catching the doorknob and finagling the door shut.

Edgar shrugged the backpack off of his back, setting it down. "I've got the tech that Denmother sent me with," he began, "and one of my ravens makes it a game of his to try and pick things off of ADVENT patrols without alerting them. So, I've got you an Elerium Core as extra."

Bastion grinned, pounding a fist on his desk heartily. "Excellent! You're a real good omen, Edgar. Here for your usual supplies?"

He nodded... but then hummed. "—If I may? I hate to leverage the core—I think I will give it to you regardless—but I've heard the seamstress here has an extra kit in her stores. I know she may be using it as spares in case her own tools break, but I've been meaning to secure one of my own." He gave a tired smile to convey his point. "I'd like to start patching up my own coat instead of bothering whichever haven I pass through to do it."

Chuckling, Bastion shook his head. "I'm sure I can swing that for you, Edgar. If you need a room for the night due to the storm, we've got a few extra beds to go around."

"Hardly need a bed," he muttered, "so long as you've got a room big enough for me and my court, I'll be fine."

"Even so. I'll check around." Bastion leaned over. "—the backpack a part of the deal?"

"Consider it so."

Bastion's grin remained. "Could always use some more of these for our runners. Thanks, Edgar. You're a bright spark as always."

Edgar smiled. As much as he liked his absentee reputation... he could get used to the warmth of others.