Despite it all, Sorey had begun to enjoy his journey. Traveling through uncharted lands, drawing maps every evening as he went far from civilisation. Not only was this exciting, it was also practical.

After some deliberation with the maps they possessed, he and Mikleo realised that Elysia lay almost exactly north of Lastonbell; the main issue this presented was the mountain range between the two. After their and Edna's recent experiments with transportation, the men decided to try it anyway; this way they could skip at least a month of travel, although it also cost them a return visit in Marlind.

In this very moment, Sorey was speedwalking. He did so most of the time since parting with Edna, his improved body able to keep up the pace without tiring for most of the day. From time to time he fell into a run, but always made sure not to expend too much energy. In addition, Mikleo assisted whenever the terrain became steeper than a gentle slope; a floating water platform would form and carry him upward, to the next stretch of even terrain. All in all, they made good progress. His thoughts and feelings had settled, allowing him to consider the greater problems more calmly.

Into an overcast afternoon however, Sorey's tranquility was shattered by a howl and breaking shrubbery; he turned on his path to intercept whatever it was instantly. When he found a man in traveling gear fleeing from a hellionised wolf, the sight had Sorey once again act without thinking; he dashed forward at blinding speed and slashed at the hellion, a water whip flicking over his shoulder to hit the beast's snout. It flinched back and squeaked, but continued to growl despite the faint, dark line on its flank.

Human and hellion squared off for a moment, but then the wolf turned tail after all; perhaps it had decided not to fight three people, or so Sorey reasoned. Regardless, his heart clenched as he beheld the trail of inky darkness left behind; Malevolence he could not quell because Lailah was gone.

Taking a shaky breath, the erstwhile shepherd calmed himself; he failed and then rather sought a distraction. The wolf had not fought to its death, but rather tried to hunt a meal; this was normal for wolves. The creatures were less aggressive than he recalled them being. Or perhaps he had just never really waited to see if they acted differently.

"T-Thank you," a breathless voice broke into his thoughts; the traveler faced him with open gratitude, though he was still panting. Then he broke into coughs, which had Sorey dart forward in worry.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine." The man coughed again and sighed heavily. "Got a little sick the last few days," he admitted then. "This little run would have been easier with a clear nose."

"I guess so," Sorey agreed while the other traveler muttered something to himself. "What are you doing out here?"

"Hm? Ah. I'm a cartographer, you see? The wilderness in these parts has been unexplored for a long while, so I'm mapping it out." The man gave a little bow and introduced himself by name, which Sorey returned a moment later. "What about yourself?"

Having no real response to give without having to explain what happened recently, Sorey shrugged. "I'm mostly just traveling, but I drew some maps on the way if you're interested? They probably won't be as good as yours, but they can help."

It was as he assumed; Sorey mainly drew from memory in the time between dinner and sleep, but he had covered a lot of ground his new acquaintance yet lacked. He was paid three hundred Gald for what he had and the cartographer made a copy. "It may be dangerous work," the man offered idly as he worked, "but it pays well and I get to see places few people will ever see. That's what adventure is like, eh?"

"Yeah." Sorey could not help but smile, feeling like he met a kindred spirit out in the wilds. At the same time his mission remained in the back of his mind, ever present and urgent; reminding himself of it however, hearing the cartographer cough again also reminded Sorey of the fact he was supposed to gather prayers. Or rather, fond thoughts of any kind; 'prayer' was just a catch-all term. Right now, he had a chance to do so. "Say, I could let my friend take a look at your sickness."

Mikleo perked up instantly, having sat next to them in idle thought; the other human needed a moment longer, though he appeared interested. "You know a good herbalist nearby?"

"Ah, no. He's a seraph."

"Heh, good one. What would a seraph do out here in the wilds?" Dismissing his claim, the other man returned his full attention to the maps he copied on a small plate. Sorey exchanged an exasperated but also understanding look with his brother, then motioned for Mikleo to do his thing. He received a nod in return and moments later his new acquaintance gasped, dropping the charcoal stick he had been sketching with. A faint glow surrounded his entire body, clearing away the sickness; Mikleo's blessing soothed his raw throat, made the faint headache he felt fade, and even freed the man's nose. What it did not remove was the wide-eyed stare now directed at Sorey, who smiled a little sheepishly.

"Mikleo can't cure any bad injuries, but colds and coughs and such are exactly in his domain. You should be more resilient to anything like that for a while, too." The man sputtered in clear shock before bowing deeply, thanking 'the kind seraph'. Mikleo just huffed and made a dismissive motion, which Sorey translated without missing a beat: "He says he's happy to help, and to take care on your journey." Seeing that the maps were almost entirely copied, it was about time to say goodbye.

The cartographer caught himself and stood upright again, wearing a brighter smile. "Aye, I will," he agreed while shaking the younger man's hand. "Thank you, Sorey. Really. The same for you, kind Mikleo. I will pass on the word of your kindness."

They parted ways soon after that, leaving Sorey to continue on his original path. It only took minutes for Mikleo's voice to echo through his mind, though: "You could have said you're the shepherd."

"I'm kind of not right now, though," Sorey deflected the question. "Besides, you know I don't like flaunting a title. Especially if I haven't really earned it yet."

"It might have helped spread the story, though. You can't grow from prayers, but people would remember me in association." He had a point, but Sorey still did not like to flaunt.

"It will be fine," he reassured his brother. "Your blessing is actually pretty good for gathering prayers, isn't it? Seraph Mikleo, patron saint against the common cold." His joke actually had him chuckling quietly. The sigh it earned from Mikleo was mostly exasperated, though.

"You're not wrong. At least now you don't exploit my blessing to get around the consequences of exploring in the cold or jumping into rivers when you really shouldn't."

"Oh come on, when was the last time I did that? It must have been years!"

"Six weeks before we left Elysia."

"Oh. Really?"

Mikleo sighed again, but did not continue the conversation; Sorey returned to navigating the countryside, though his mind soon began to wander again. Mikleo's blessing was the only one he knew about and he wondered. "Say, did Edna ever tell you what her blessing is?"

"I don't think so," his brother returned after considering for a moment. "She might have thrown in a hint between the snark, but I didn't notice anything."

"The same for me. We never really talked about the others' blessings, huh?" He did not say it out loud, but they both thought of Lailah again; conversations they could have had with her but never did, bad puns she would never get to tell now. With those thoughts went his mood once again and he could not help but sigh.

"It's hard to believe. I know she's still there, but also... gone." Mikleo did not respond at first, though Sorey knew him well enough to guess. "...you miss her too, don't you?"

"Of course I do. No one deserves something like that." He paused before adding something else, more hopeful than they both were recently: "Perhaps we really can figure out a way to purify her. Then we can help Edna's brother, too."

"Yeah, that would be great. But we need to focus on Heldalf for now." Oh, he hated having to say it, but it remained the truth; as long as the Lord of Calamity went unchecked, he would continue to sow darkness and hellions. Unfortunately for Sorey, his mind picked that moment to remind him of yet another somewhat related matter; Alisha. She was a hellion as well, yet arguably still herself and continuously kind. Thinking of her brought back the wolf from earlier that day, too. "That wolf we fought, it ran away so fast. Didn't gramps say hellions are hyperaggressive?"

The first response his brother gave was a hum running through Sorey's head. "I guess so. Maybe it remained in control or something like that. You thought of Alisha, didn't you?"

"...yeah." There was just no way to keep things from Mikleo. "I'm still trying to figure it out. What do we do about her? Can we risk leaving her be? Would the human Alisha even want that?" Did she really not change, or did she change so much she could not recognise she had? How could they tell? It was at this point that Sorey realised he barely knew anything about his former squire. She had marched along on faith and a desire to help, yet never spoken much of herself to either of them.

"We should ask gramps when we get back," he finally decided. "I need his opinion."

"That's probably for the best," Mikleo agreed, then called him to attention. "Another hill, get ready." And so their ascent continued.

Far away, a group of rotund pig men and -women waddled around their lands, tending them as they always had. Becoming hellions did not change their daily duties or the money they earned, though the greater strength and speed made many a chore easier. They were content with their lives still.

Much to their surprise, that day saw a giant fox trot past them as they were busy bringing in the last of the harvest. They could not help but stop and stare, every last of them gobsmacked at the majestic creature and its rider; a young woman sat atop this beast, waving toward them as they passed by. Reluctantly, the kobold children waved back.

"Fear not and hold out," the woman's voice bridged the gap between them, full of strength and hope. "A shepherd has risen! He will return you to normal once his journey leads here, if you so desire!" Then she was past and rode away, leaving the farmers to chatter excitedly among each other. Alisha carried her along, having admitted that traveling like this was surprisingly fun for herself; thus they had continued despite having no pressing need for speed. As a result, the odd group of three reached the vast fields surrounding Pendrago within little more than two weeks despite several detours.

As they neared the outer city surrounding its great wall however, Margaret gave her mount a pat on the head and slid down her front leg. "I think we should go on foot now," she told her companions. Alisha immediately bowed her head in agreement, which was all Margaret had been waiting for. "Symonne?"

"On it," the petite seraph returned as she materialised next to them. "Ready."

Once she was given the okay, Alisha transformed back into human form; Margaret already fished a set of clothes out of their enchanted pouch. She held it out to the nude therion, who offered an appreciative smile. Alisha dressed swiftly, practice having made the motions ever easier and faster over the last weeks; Symonne's illusions hid them from view in the meantime.

"You aren't blushing anymore," the seraph girl commented while Alisha fastened her cape's clasps. "Are you developing a thing for exhibitionism?"

Unfortunately for Symonne, while both of her companions remained somewhat embarassed by her antics, they had grown used to them. Alisha merely shrugged, hiding her sheepishness effortlessly. "I do not think so. You are not enough of a jerk to suddenly make me visible, which was my original concern." Symonne sputtered, scandalised, but was prevented from complaining: "My thanks, either way. Your blessing is incredibly helpful for such matters."

The praise made any previous comments die on Symonne's lips and drew a faint smile from her. Both of her companions noted how starved she was for positive attention, though Margaret and Symonne quietly thought the same of Alisha.

With the therion dressed, they strolled up toward the gates of Pendrago. A town-sized outer city mostly made of wood and some stone surrounded them long before they reached, sitting in the massive walls' shadow. A capital city which had stood for over a thousand years and only grew greater since.

"I never thought it would look like this," Alisha admitted as they approached. "These walls may be the same height as Ladylake's, but I am certain they are twice as thick. The architecture is different, too. As if the wall in its entirety was crafted from a single block and not put together." Her idle musings stopped there as she realised neither of her companions would share her awe; Margaret stared at the walls with mixed feelings and Symonne watched Margaret.

Only when the human girl said nothing did her partner speak up: "That's because they were. Pendrago's entire wall was grown from the earth by seraphim, then polished and hardened. The only structures more incredible are, in order, the Shrinechurch that was built over centuries by human hands, the giant gate of Vortigern, now keeping closed off the cold of the far north, and... Artorius' Throne."

Vortigern was familiar to her, as was the Shrinechurch; it had been ages since she last saw it. Hearing the last name sent a jolt through Margaret, however; she needed long moments to even figure out what kind of structure this could be, had to remember that Symonne served under Melchior to realise what had happened. "Do you," she began weakly, voice cracked, "do you mean the Empyrean's Throne?"

"That's what they used to call it," Symonne confirmed her fear; an odd sort of blankness clouded her expression, leaving both human and therion unable to read her. Even had she shown what she felt, Margaret would have failed to notice; she was too busy agonising over this nonsensical change.

"They shouldn't have called it that, of all things," she muttered mostly to herself. Artorius had not deserved to be remembered thus, even the man Margaret used to be would agree with that. "It's a temple to the Empyreans, not to a man. No man." Absorbed in thought and unwilling to keep standing there, she began to walk; her companions followed, Alisha with curious concern but Symonne with cold certainty.

Thankfully, the sight of Pendrago's crowded town square distracted the group as a whole; it was even busier than Lastonbell, carefully cleaned stone buildings towering above the masses. Margaret even recognised the large fountain; it passed the test of time and remained, just like the town's layout.

"Margaret?" Someone pulled her arm, breaking through the cotton that formed around her very being. She blinked and turned to Alisha, whose worry was quite visible. "What is with you? I know Pendrago is impressive, but you never zone out like that."

"I..." She tried to put into words the feelings coursing through her, but found she had none. No way to describe the longing of a time long past, the guilt of her many failures, the joy of seeing at least a remnant of what once was. She glanced to Symonne, a quiet plea that was answered with a thumbs up. No one could listen in on the three travelers, even as Margaret began to trot forward. "I remember this city," she then admitted to her companions. "I remember walking these streets, and they are yet the same even after all this time. I carry a soul that lived before," Margaret then revealed to a surprised Alisha, "and I am sorry I didn't tell you yet. There was never a good time to bring it up. I know you have questions, but could I have some time to myself for now?"

She did not even look at them toward the end, barely even paying attention to the people around her. Symonne had to slap one pickpocket's hands because Margaret failed to notice. Nostalgia swallowed her whole, leaving nothing but to walk what was once known as Loegres; nothing but memories.

Much later, her companions would tell her about the rumours they heard while following her; about the elixir trade having picked up recently, a miraculous cure that was said to be created by Maotelus himself. But also about Van Aifread's bandit clan and their ever-growing influence in the north.

Before that however, Margaret explored. She went this way and that until, at last, excited chatter and a smaller crowd drew her to the shrinechurch; the seat of Rolance's entire clergy stood imposing from below, regardless of the many people tirelessly working to set up tables and benches in the vast courtyard leading up to it.

It was at this point that Margaret slowly recovered and left her funk; she began to listen and wondered what those around her talked about while watching the work. Asking one of the elderly men yielded a grandfatherly smile. "You must be travelers," he concluded with a sage nod, not even waiting for a response as he motioned for the preparations. "The church prepares another grand sermon to the Great Lords, just like every month. They keep the natural disasters at bay and Pendrago prosperous. There," he called, pointing out one person in particular. "Cardinal Forton oversees everything in person again."

They followed his pointing and found a woman clad in the white robes of a priestess; her elaborate hat did nothing to hide high cheekbones and an almost gaunt appearance. She appeared to direct the people as they set up.

"We are truly blessed to have such a hard-working woman in charge," the elder continued joyfully. Symonne left them to poke around at that point.

"She looks like she enjoys her work," Alisha observed. Margaret agreed, seeing the cardinal's smile quite clearly even from a distance.

Then however, something odd happened. As Forton wandered down the rows of benches to talk to two acolytes, a careless swipe of her hand caught Symonne. The seraph girl was as surprised as her companions when long, dainty fingers closed around her wrist and pulled her along; the Cardinal made no indication that she heard her frantic attempts to talk or make peace. As if she had already been watching them, the older woman marched straight toward Margaret and Alisha with a hint of a smile.

"Travelers," she began, letting go of Symonne at that moment, "and armed ones at that. You two do not strike me as the usual kind of mercenaries. What brings you to Pendrago?" Neither woman knew what to make of that, seeing how there were so many responses one could give.

Ultimately, Alisha spoke up for the three of them: "Curiousity, mainly. None of us has ever been to the capital before." She would love to reveal their personal mission of helping the people, but they encountered quite a bit of incredulity before and decided to drop it. "Neither of us heard about the goings-on. This kind man mentioned that such sermons are held regularly, but is there a particular reason for them?"

The Cardinal considered Alisha for a moment even as she exchanged pleasantries with the elder she motioned for. "In a way," she then confirmed calmly. "About a year ago, Pendrago faced a horrible rainstorm. The downpour would not cease for weeks, coming close to destroying most crops just before the harvest."

"I heard of that," Margaret chimed in when Cardinal Forton left a pause. "Velvet was here at the time, but she wasn't around for however you solved it?"

She received a kind smile, but one that all three girls could tell was more a mask than honest. "Why, we called together the faithful and offered our prayers to the Great Lords, so that whatever transgression they saw to punish would be forgiven instead. That very evening, the rain stopped and we saw a sunset again." The crowd around them murmured in agreement.

"I see," Margaret offered kindly. "How magnanimous of the Great Lords to forgive." She did not break eye contact with the cardinal and saw her eyes widen fractionally; they both understood the other knew enough, but neither revealed their knowledge.

"Indeed," Forton agreed instead. "But enough of that, I see weary travelers before me. May I offer you a cup of tea?"

"Of course. Thank you very much."

They followed the older woman without complaint, Alisha more curious than Margaret. The human girl reminded herself not to make such decisions on her own in the future; she had been dragging her friends around ever since they reached Pendrago. They ought to make plans together, even though they were swept up in other matters.

Just as they entered and marched past the empty chapel however, they found another odd sight; the room's head was adorned with an elaborate throne carved out of rock. On top of this throne lounged a chubby, fluffy cat that eyed them with either disdain or interest. Forton nodded to the feline, who inclined her head back and made it clear they were dealing with a seraph; Margaret huffed quietly. "I am a little surprised to find you having such strong resonance, Cardinal," she began, broaching the subject with care. "Though in hindsight, I shouldn't have been."

Curiously, the woman herself said nothing at first. It was the cat who chuckled, then addressed them in a pleasant alto: "My, what an odd group. Welcome, Margaret, Alisha, Symonne." All three started at being addressed by name, but the seraph girl stepped forward with widening eyes.

"Morgrim? I had no idea you were here."

Another chuckle. "I have been here a while. You, however, I have not seen since the Age of the Gods. I did not even know you had an actual name until a week ago, when Laphicet informed me." The cat seraph rolled onto her back before the gaping girls, kicking empty air and revealing a red ribbon tied to her hindleg. All three stood dumbfounded until a quiet chuckle reminded them of the fifth presence in the room.

"As amusing as it is," Forton began curtly, "I am afraid you are mistaken about my resonance." She smiled humourlessly, offering a nod to Alisha. "But considering the company you keep, it should not be a problem, no?" Her meaning was clear enough, though the gravitas of the situation vanished when Morgrim playfully hopped onto the cardinal's head, pushing off her hat without a care.

"Always so strict, my dear. You should, how do they say? Let your hair down once in a while. Or your tail, if you prefer."

"Off of my head."

"I think not."

And the cat proceeded to lounge on Runette Forton's head with as much ease as the solid stone she throned on before. The cardinal rolled her eyes at no one in particular, though Margaret's giggle made her throw a sharp look to the girl. Swallowing her mirth with better success than Symonne, she quickly put on a smile. "About that tea? I would like to discuss a few things with you, Cardinal."

She received a nod and they were once again led deeper into the Shrinechurch. However, all three exchanged silly grins the moment Forton's head was turned; the fuzzy hat she now wore was just too ridiculous on the stern woman.