"Heavens, Kekoa! You'll pardon me for saying this, I hope, as a friend who cares deeply for your health, but-"

"Don't bother." Kekoa the Black swatted his hand, dispelling her concerns before they could take to the air. "Just dab, alright?"

Guiding the compress along Kekoa's inner forearm, Little Lady Healer released a deep sigh. Parallel lines of peeled-away skin awaited the sting of a sterile handkerchief. The depth and method of the marks suggested his felled foe to be a breed of Sword Rat. Leonora's heart squirmed like a worm caught in the bill of a sparrow. Kekoa could pretend the damage was trivial, if it pleased him; but the wounds betrayed his confidence, divulging to his mender all the secrets of his bitter, stinging pain. His pride was spared, however, for his benefactor's skill in her trade. Neither her steady hand nor her courteous composure revealed to him her wiggling worries.

The afternoon weather provided ample comfort, at the very least. While the day was hot, it was not unbearably so; it was cool enough to justify a brisk walk without the fear of pooling sweat. Where the light shined, the world burst into color. Sunbeams bounced off the mica in the slate grey roads. Green shrubs basked happily in the warmth. The cerulean skies, the clouds, and the air stood serenely still. Shadows clung to their corners, making no advance to the streets. The villagers, too, lingered in their own dark homes, exhausted after the morning hunt.

Leonora and Kekoa sat in the sweet shade of the young lady's porch canopy. As she began to wind bandages around his arm, they listened to the quiescence. Children giggled somewhere near the heart of town, far away from the unassuming cottage. Their parents had settled into after lunch teas or hour long naps. A washing board clicked and clacked, but strove for a cordial volume, reading the atmosphere wisely. The wood porch creaked lazily under the weight of its guests. Kekoa shifted in his seat and smacked his lips.

Glancing up from her work, Leonora said softly, "They have vastly more experience than I do, you know..."

"If I wanted experience, I'd go to my mother," spat Kekoa. "Are you almost done?"

"Almost, yes." Leonora suppressed the threat of a grin. An ancient Mrs. Shamoun might have dabbed ointment in Kekoa's poor arm with all the mercy of a fiend kraken, so thin was her patience. Well, like mother, like son.

Only a few bandages remained. The ointment would set at its own pace and smelled terribly pungent; but it was much gentler than those applied in the Hall of Prayers, with longer lasting effects. While Kekoa had never ventured to ask where she had obtained the ointment, Leonora felt he must have noticed the difference. After all, he visited her every other week with some kind of dressing request. There were other white mages in town for that kind of thing. Then again, perhaps they charged him a fee for their work or gave him lip for accompanying the weekly hunts. No one dared defy the orders of the previous Elder, who had deemed Kekoa unfit to battle. The Tuma twins made a point to enforce this, intervening on his behalf, persuading Kekoa from taking part in any serious combat.

If written orders with signed seals counted as persuasion, anyway. The man was a stubborn mule, if ever there was one.

For this reason, the villagers gossiped that Leonora's heart was perhaps too soft, and that she was too easily swayed to help the unjustified and undeserving. She had caught wind of the words by her childhood hobby of eavesdropping, but felt only a smidgen lonelier for it. Too easily people forgot all the honors that Kekoa had won in his past, conveniently overlooking the reason for his swelling arrogance. Once his powers had grown so strong, he claimed to hear the cries of Thunder and the cackles of Fire; a feat known only to the days of yore, when magic could be studied without the slightest restraint. He was almost elected Elder instead of Elias the Noble, but was believed too hot-headed a mage by some opposers, and lost by a dozen votes.

Certainly, Leonora conceded, an aging man should know his limits, but Kekoa did not contradict this notion. Upon closer inspection, one would note that he kept to the party and engaged only a battle in which he was certain of triumph. Yet, the townsfolk were not presented much of a chance to inspect, being solely subjected to Kekoa's grand boasts and overstated victories, for he had never really broken this forty-year habit, and the words he chose, needless to say, did very little to convince.

"Almost done with what?" chimed in a third voice, sweet and familiar, though carried on a breath of disappointment. This guest's steps did not cause the boards to creak, so light were her feet. Kekoa released a hefty sigh, resigned to the inevitable prospect of a lecture.

"Fancy seeing you here, Lady Elder," said Leonora lightly, not looking up. "Have you come to persuade me to visit Troia on your behalf?"

"Apfff, so Palom shared the exciting news with you." Oh, but Porom would not be distracted. Not even politics could seduce the Lady Elder from the temptations of delivering a well-deserved lecture. "You would get thorough care at the Hall of Prayers, Kekoa, if you troubled yourself to visit. I see you've neglected to show discretion in today's hunt as well. Hyder reported that you threw yourself into battle with a Sword Rat, unaccompanied! Did I not ask you last week to please stay with the group?"

Leonora finished the last knot in Kekoa's bandages. He drew his arm away, tucking it under the wide sleeves of his carbon black robe. When Leonora lifted her gaze, both Porom and Kekoa stared each other down like a pair of pouting children. Kekoa parted his thin, dry lips to speak, but Porom cleared her throat abruptly, announcing to him that she was not yet finished.

"If there is a problem with your pension, you could easily have come to me." She spoke this urgently and firmly, but the sincerity in her eyes dulled any sharpness of her words. An Elder cares for the safety of her each citizen, after all. "I would have made the adjustment quick and painless. If you have problems with paperwork, you could have got Hyder to do it for you. He is among the most filial of your-"

"It's got nothing to do with my pension. You think I wouldn't tell it to your face, Lady Elder?" The black mage sniffed, taking up his rosary, adjusting his sleeves. "If you'll excuse me, ladies, my mother is in need of her late afternoon broth. That's a little more important than these quibbles, isn't it?"

He flashed Porom a toothy grin like Leonora had never before seen! His teeth shined a dazzling white, as if they were diamonds held up to the sunlight.

A nonplussed Porom stared wide-eyed as Kekoa took his leave. What was that smile supposed to mean? This man, whose face was always squished up as though he'd licked a lemon, why did he grin like a fool? Porom found the answer much too late. Kekoa was already out of earshot, a safe distance away from certain bossy, young ladies. That tricky-sticky man and his flash bomb of a smile!

Sighing, Porom plopped into the seat he vacated and poked the bottle of ointment lying on the table. Her pale pink bangs settled over her left eye. She didn't seem to know what to do with her legs. She crossed ankles at first, then opened her thighs. Her restless right foot tapped its toes.

"At least it's a lovely day outside," said Porom lightly. "It's not the worst day to get eaten alive."

"Well, you can't control what course of action people choose." Leonora tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Please don't blame yourself. You can lead a horse to water-"

"Yes, I know. Palom said that, too." Porom blew at her bang, but it only flapped like half-staff flag. "He's just so proud! I'm almost glad he was never our Elder. What would the state of this island be if an impassioned, old ninny like him was in charge?"

"You don't mean that…"

"I almost do." Porom rubbed her temples, leaning forward on her elbows. She didn't mean it, but the stress made her want to mean it. "He's a good man, and a wise one, too. It would be a damn shame to lose him. But, a Sword Rat? Palom and I have been kicking those things around since we were five years old. His strength has dwindled, and if he is not aware of it, then we must remind him."

"W-Well, but… You two were special, weren't you?" Leonora placed the bandages in her satchel, then plucked the vial of ointment from the table. She watched as the white paste settled at the base. "Prodigies, you know. And Kekoa has been especially sensitive about his magely pride ever since he retired. Though he has something of a reputation, you know the eyes of Mysidia are fixed on the new and rising talents, causing the old to be forgotten. Maybe it's just a matter of giving credit where it's due."

Porom paused. Leonora chanced an upward glance as the creases smoothed in Lady Elder's brow. That was one worry soothed, at least. Long nights of hard work had culled out deep bags under her eyes. Her shoulders slouched, as if weighed down by the myriad of her other stately affairs. Oh, they must have been plenty: like sorting civil disputes between husbands and wives, Leonora fancied, or preparing for the next council meeting, or revising commercial contracts. Or nurturing diplomatic ties.

"He'd stop looking for glory if we just gave it to him," said Porom, nodding. She flashed a warm, easy smile in way of her old friend. "You're right, thank you. But I haven't forgotten your question from earlier. Palom told me that you've left his tutelage, now that you've learned all the Black Magic that you possibly could. In fact, the people may begin calling you Lady Sage once the word gets out."

"But I-I have rendered no service that warrants it." Leonora fiddled with the draping of her lavender himation, her gaze following the curving designs in its indigo borders. "Not yet, anyway. I'm still taking the time to consider what my next move will be. Where I want to go first, for instance, and what project I would like to explore…"

"To Palom, and many others, mastery over both schools of magic is service enough," said Porom. The miracle of a moment renewed her vigor. She sat up proudly, her shoulders broad, her neck tall. Her hair fell into place like practiced curtains of pale pink silk. By measure of majesty alone, she was fit to be Lady Elder.

Leonora smoothed the folds in her lap. Her heart shriveled in her chest. Porom stood for everything the people of Mysidia loved. She was dutiful, diligent and wise; she was brave, humble and true. Her magical prowess was unparalleled, and had been from a young age. Whenever she left the house, she was reminded that she was deeply adored and desperately admired. The people readily sang her praises, and she drank them in (rightly and justly, in healthy doses, for she was as awesome as they said, and awesomely modest). And Leonora may have felt inclined to shower her in praise, too, if it did not remind her of the wound in her soul that never would close.

Her hands balled into fists. Her heart throbbed. Leonora was just another orphan, living somewhere on the edge of town. Poor Leonora, they said, and smiled broadly through her. They watched her when she fell, when she cooked lopsided dishes and walked alone through the marketplace. They whispered among themselves, for she looked more like the Baronites who had laid siege to their home, as her father had been descended of them. Poor Leonora, they said, and visited her from time to time, and graciously offered their old clothes to her, and taught her a great many recipes. Poor Leonora, they said, but never stayed long enough to see her garden, or eat her cakes, or hear her stories.

She was indebted to their kindness, infinitely; but they had never loved her.

"You bring honor to our island with your talents," Porom continued. "Of course, I agree with you, and the people outside of Mysidia will, too. It's heartening to know you're still as humble as you've ever been. Though, from what I gather, you're telling me that you aren't in a position train a new Epopt in Troia. Is this a fair assumption to make?"

Leonora nodded, smiling faintly. "It's just a matter of timing, my lady. I've some feelings with which to deal and some plans to arrange. I really don't think I'm in the best state of mind to take off just yet."

The silence whispered something of a disappointment between them, but Porom made no sudden movements, nor uttered anything in response. Leonora felt her own shoulders slouch, knowing that the burden on Porom must have felt a pebble heavier. Her own heart clenched, riddled with guilt. Could she not be less selfish?

"Th-Though, if I may, my lady," said Leonora, abruptly, "might I suggest you respond to the request with a friendly rejection? You have a very convenient excuse coming in the next few months, might I add."

"You mean the Grand Feast, don't you?" Their gazes met. Porom looked more concerned than anything else. "It's still four months away, and the host nation has not been decided. I fear we would appear discourteous and inconsiderate, rather than thoughtful."

"Not so, my lady. It took about three months for Lord Palom to train me in elementary spells, and it took him a month to reach Troia. While the trip normally takes two weeks, we have reason to take more caution, meaning we could plan for a month's trip." Leonora set her hands in her lap and steadily met Porom's gaze. "It would be a safer bet in the grand scheme of things to allow for a gap of five months. One month to Troia, three months in Troia, and another month back to Mysidia. Additionally, I suggest you send Lord Palom in your stead, after the Grand Festival has taken place. This will keep the goodwill between our nations in tact, as we would be sending our greatest talent in Black Magic to service them."

Porom nodded slowly, stroking her chin. "Your logic is sound, Leonora, except for a single gap. With Palom gone, my duties as Elder will double."

"We have traditionally only needed one Elder, my lady, who is assisted by two aides. Perhaps it is the appropriate time for you to select another one, in addition to Iyas, in case of circumstances such as this." When Porom looked worried, Leonora shook her head. "I do not suggest eliminating the Lord Elder's position altogether. Instead, I recommend Palom's tutelage to the next Epopt because he is the Lord Elder. It used to be that the Elder could not go abroad to cultivate foreign relationships in person, else business in Mysidia would suffer. Lord Palom is restless, and has always wished to see the world. This would give him that opportunity while in service to his country."

"S-Send Palom…" Porom closed a fist around the pendant hanging around her neck. It was as though Leonora had suggested she tear her own arm off-which was understandably difficult. "That does sound like the most efficient course of action. If I was inclined to ignore your needs, Leonora, I would ask you to be my advisor."

"Well, naturally, you would have to ask Lord Palom what he thinks. His mind is sharper than mine, milady, and it is his choice to make. But, well… if he doesn't want to go, then you could always switch roles."

"M-Me? Travel?" Porom shook her head quickly, eyes darting away. "I'll think about all that you have said, Leonora. On the other hand, I heard you and Palom were on more casual terms. I'm confused about all these titles, Leonora. I've already told you, many a time, to please call me Porom. Only Porom."

Leonora blushed darkly and rubbed her cheek. "My apologies, Lady-er, Porom. It's, ah…" She knew what truth she should tell. It was easier, by far, to hide behind courtesies. Less painful. Less vulnerable. "It's just confusing sometimes. I don't mean any ill by it."

Porom nodded sympathetically. Other friends had encountered similar dilemmas, so it was a credible account. "I would like to think we're friends, Leonora. You did have dinner with Palom the other night, didn't you?"

"Y-Yes." The Tuma Twins hid no secrets from one another. Did Porom know about that flower fiasco that Palom pretended he knew nothing about? Maybe they were both sparing her feelings. Then again, were that the case, Porom might have worn the guilt on her face as plainly as Palom had a few days prior. Leonora cleared her throat. "Did he… Did he say something to you about it?"

"Not a word," giggled Lady Elder. "Maybe he's too embarrassed about it all! You know how he gets about feelings, sometimes."

The giggles excited Leonora's natural inclination, and she could not help but chuckle herself. The ice in her chest melted ever so slightly. "All the time, more like. Feelings turn him into a squirmy-wormy, don't they?" A pause. "I think we're friends, Porom. Or, at least, I'd like to be… but you've always been busy with other things. When we were little girls, you were always studying. It was Palom who visited me, though he did not study much…"

"Everything was too easy for him, he said. I don't blame him, but I also used to wish he would behave better. I wanted a brother, not a pet or-or a son." Porom sighed. "Don't repeat that to him, though. He knows it already, and gods know we don't need to have another fight. The stress has been so high, it's a wonder we haven't scratched each other's eyes out."

"So he's...been on edge?"

"Moreso than the usual grouchiness, yes. Like he's been avoiding having any meaningful conversations with me lately. I chalk it up to exhaustion, but I've also got this nagging feeling he's hiding something from me." Porom twitched her shoulders and shook her head. "It must sound so silly to you, Leonora, that I should question my own twin brother. He'd tell me if it were something important to know."

"I don't think it's silly." Their eyes met. Leonora smiled small. "Maybe you should ask him about it. If there's nothing wrong, then he'll reassure you, won't he?"

It took Porom thirty seconds to consider this. Leonora watched as the notion clicked like a gear in the machine of her comprehension. Porom's sea blue eyes twinkled with a new, warm light, and her cheeks glowed rose. "You're right, Leonora. We have to make time in our lives for family relationships, too. Just because we're growing up doesn't mean we have to grow apart."