Ch. VIII: Dullahan

The world was quiet, save for the faint whistling as the wind blew through the tall grass. Such quiet after being pursued by an enemy would normally be comforting… but for Quinn, this desolation was anything but.

"Miss Ingrid!" he shouted. "Captain!" His voice echoed over the rolling grass… but no answer came. He shouted again, "Captain! Miss Ingrid!" But again, there was no answer. He whirled around, shivering as a cold sweat overcame him. He thought, there would be a trail, a path he'd made as he pushed through the grass… but there was nothing. No signs to indicate which direction he'd come from.

He looked up to the sky- above him, unfamiliar stars glinted. Under Professor Isaac's tutelage at the College, he'd read in books about how sailors and other navigators could use the stars to orient themselves. But… he didn't have that skill. And even if he did know it, it wouldn't help him find the others. He looked around- all around him, the grass swayed in the breeze, but there were no lights in the darkness, nothing to indicate another living soul was anywhere nearby.

Quinn sat down, the tall grass engulfing him completely. He put his hand on his chest, and made himself take deep breaths. He had to remain calm. He had to come up with a plan. "Alright…" he said to himself. "What can we do?"

In truth, there was little he could do. No one had answered his calls, and he didn't have any torches… not that lighting a fire with all this grass about would be a very wise decision. And trying to find his way in the dark would probably only bring him further away from the others, rather than closer. He said out loud again, "I… guess I'll have to wait until morning."

Quinn couldn't say when he'd fallen asleep, but he was awakened by the sensation of something cold and wet touching his face. He jolted, and crawled back instinctively. But he found himself facing not an enemy or wild beast, but a black wolf, which morphed into a black-haired girl. "Good guy!" Noel exclaimed.

"Noel," Quinn replied. "How did you…" He trailed off, realizing tracking someone by their scent would have been easy for a wolf, and asked instead, "Where's everyone else?"

Noel touched her chin with her finger, thinking, before exclaiming, "Noel forgot!"

Quinn sighed. But, the grass around them rustled, and Francis emerged. "you found him," he said. "Excellent work, Noel." He turned to Quinn. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Quinn replied, quickly rising to his feet. "Where's everyone else?"

"Looking for you," he replied. He beckoned- Noel leapt up and began following the hooded man, and Quinn followed her. "Everyone else stopped before crossing the treeline and regrouped. That's when we noticed you were missing."

It didn't take long for Francis to guide Quinn to the others, gathered before the break separating the forest from the grassy fields. As soon as she laid eyes on him, Ingrid raced towards them arms outstretched as though preparing an embrace. "Quinn!" But as soon as she reached Quinn, she stopped, as if realizing she wasn't alone. She merely laid her hands on his shoulders and gripped him firmly. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Quinn, oh thank goodness!" Another person rushed toward the two, much less reserved about her display of affection, nearly knocking Quinn off his feet with her embrace. "We all thought you'd been captured!" Gail rambled. "Miss Ingrid was up all night making everyone look for you!"

Quinn gently pushed the two away. "I'm just fine, really. See?" He looked around. "But, uh… where are we exactly?"

"An excellent question…" Uther replied. The captain looked out over the field, the mountains at his back. Before him, the swaying grass seemed to stretch on forever- there were no trees, no breaks, no landmarks of any kind.

"I believe I may know where we are," Julius said. Sweeping his gaze over their surroundings, he said, "I have not seen it for myself, but I believe we may be in the Sythic Sea."

"Uh… you might wanna get a new pair of glasses," Juno said, looking around. "I'm not seeing any water around here."

Julius adjusted his glasses, eyes narrowed. "The 'Sythic Sea' is a name referring to the grasslands that dominate most of northern Sythia. It is a poetic name that does not refer to any actual bodies of water."

Quinn looked out over the vast plain. He could understand how this place got such a name- the grass rippling under the winds did resemble swelling waves on the ocean.

"Wait, back up- did you say Sythia?" Fiona asked. She paled. "Then… that means…"

Lindow crossed his arms over his chest, replying, "We're on Kherson's turf."

"Well," Gwin began, "at least we don't have to worry about the Browns finding us."

"We need to press forward," Uther said. "We can't risk going back the way we came."

"But where are we supposed to go?" Quinn asked.

The group was quiet, before Julius stepped forward. He looked around, before pointing to something to the north. "There." Quinn followed the priest's arm, to a jagged mountain that resembled an arrowhead. It was massive, rising even higher than the mountains surrounding it. "Mt. Felhold," he said. "Aurea's tallest mountain."

"Felhold?" Quinn asked, looking to Ingrid. "Like that fort you mentioned, Miss Ingrid?"

Ingrid nodded. "The very same. Fort Felhold lies at the foot of that mountain. And what's more, it's close to the Hessian border."

"Then we have our destination," Uther replied. "Let's move." With that, the captain spurred his horse forward.

The vanguard set out, advancing toward the massive mountain. Quinn had noticed a strange dark patch on the mountainside facing towards them. But the vanguard drew closer, the patch began to change- in time, he realized it wasn't some strange rock formation, but rather, nothing at all. A massive, perfectly circular hole had been blasted into the side of Mt. Felhold- the dark patch was the shadowed interior of this hole, where sunlight couldn't reach. "Wow," Gwin said. "It really does have a hole in it."

"How'd it get there?" Quinn asked.

"That hole was caused by Bannon's Ring of Power, Balor, during the first War of the Ronde," Ingrid explained. "It is the only time that Balor missed its intended target."

"Miss Inquisitor," Uther interrupted. "Please, allow me to tell this tale. It is my family's history, after all." Ingrid obliged, and Uther told his tale.

It began in the year 414, thirty-one years after Bannon had been settled by the Burgundians and shortly after the Conquest of Morley. A secret meeting was held between the Morleyan clans- their king had been slain in battle by the Burgundians, and they debated whether to continue to fight, or surrender. Then, a mysterious white-haired woman appeared amongst them, and presented a ring embedded with a red gemstone. She said, "Whosoever amongst you that can wear this ring and live, he shall have the strength to drive the foreigners from this land and unite the isles of Bannon under his name." A few men stepped forward. But when the first slipped the ring onto his finger, his body burst into flame, and he burned until only ashes remained. Another tried, but he too was burned to ash. After, none dared to even touch the ring. Save for one.

His name was Oswald, of Clan Maybury, a clan so small many didn't recognize the name. But, when he put on the ring, rather than burning, he looked to the sky, and a brilliant beam of light shone from his eyes. In awe, the other clan leaders knelt before Oswald, pledging their service to him. Oswald himself looked for the woman, to ask her about the ring. But, the woman had gone, just as suddenly as she had appeared. Unperturbed, Oswald declared that they would continue to fight against the Burgundians.

When they met the Burgundians on the battlefield days later, everyone learned the ring's true, terrifying power. As before, beams of light shone from Oswald's eyes- the beams incinerated anything they touched, and could bend at impossible angles to ensure they never missed their target. In terror, the Burgundians fled, abandoning towns, forts, and in time, Morley itself, sailing back to the Bannish mainland. Emboldened, Oswald and the Morleyans pursued the Burgundians, cutting a swath through the main island, before reaching Tristan. Here, they killed the island's magistrate and burned down his manor. A few Burgundians fled back to their homeland, but Oswald didn't follow them. His victory was celebrated, and he was formally crowned as king of both Morley and Bannon.

News of Oswald's victory eventually reached Burgundy. Outraged, the Burgundians quickly raised and launched a fleet to take back the islands. But Oswald was ready. With Balor, he sank ship after ship. But the ring began to take its toll. And when only a few ships remained, the heat from Balor's beams caused his eyes to burst in their sockets. The last beam Oswald fired shot over the sea, and disappeared over the horizon. Still, Oswald had sunk sixteen Burgundian ships, and Bannish forces made short work of the survivors. The Burgundians would attempt to invade twice more, but each force was driven back, and the First War of the Ronde ended with Bannon keeping its independence. For his valor in driving back the Burgundians, Oswald was beloved by the native Bannish people, and was seen as a just king, despite his blindness.

Quinn was silent, marveling at the story Uther had told. He'd never had the chance to study history while being taught by Professor Isaac, so he had no idea that Bannon had such a story behind it. It certainly made his travels thus far seem… completely unremarkable in comparison. But Quinn's ruminations were interrupted when Julius spoke up: "That was quite the tale, Captain. I must admit, you never struck me as dramaturge."

Uther laughed, scratching his beard. "Hah, I hardly do the tale justice," he replied. "If only I was half the storyteller my grandfather was…" He looked ahead. "Ah. It's seems we've arrived."

Just like with the Abbey, the name of "Fort Felhold" was far more modest than the reality- the group of buildings nestled at the base of the mountain was much closer to a town in size than a simple fortress. The walls were crumbling, covered in worn scars of a battle long past; but beneath the damage and the overgrowth, there was no mistaking those white walls, those silver roof tiles. Just as Ingrid had said, this place had once belonged to the Order.

The group passed through the massive rotting gates. The outer walls had hidden the damage within. Scattered everywhere were massive stones bigger than a man, no doubt launched by catapults. Not a single building stood unscathed, whether crushed by stones, or blackened by flames. Grass, wild flowers, and vines grew everywhere, from cracks in the stones beneath their feet, to the roofs above them- it was apparent that whatever had happened, no human had dared set foot in this place since. "This is some pretty serious damage," Juno said, looking at one of the damaged buildings. "A lot worse than what your average bandit could do. What happened here?"

"It was about… seventy years ago now, shortly after a conflict known as Gaspar's Revolt," Ingrid said. She was stiff, her eyes focused ahead. "Kherson began moving into Sythia, allegedly to bring local raiders to heel. But then, they attacked Felhold, the Order's headquarters in Sythia without warning. Officially, Kherson claims Sythian raiders were using Felhold for refuge, though Mother Agnes and Master Evangelyne believe that in truth, they were trying to seize the Ring here, Vukodlak. After Felhold had fallen, the Khersonians stormed the Order stronghold in their capital, Mozyr, and expelled all Order agents within their borders. From there, they've continued to expand, conquering the nations of western Aurea one after another.

"Kherson came to a halt after conquering Alytus some twenty years ago, but there are concerns they could resume their expansion any day. Hessen and Burgundy are the most worried, since they share borders with Kherson."

The group finally came to a stop near the center of the fort. Their path had led them to a small square- the road behind led back to the gate, while the road ahead led to a crumbling keep that nonetheless stood above the other buildings. "We made it," Quinn said.

"Should we set up camp here, Captain?" Fiona asked

"Certainly," Uther replied, and dismounted. "I believe we've more than earned a rest."

Gwin leapt out of his saddle. "Great! It'll be nice to put some proper food in everyone's stomachs. I just hope I haven't gotten too rusty over the last few days."

The small square buzzed with activity as the vanguard unpacked their equipment. Quinn busied himself by raising the tents, aided by Uther. Although they were surrounded by buildings, Uther advised they not enter them, fearing that the damage and decay they had suffered could cause them to collapse from any disturbances.

With a deep breath, Quinn stepped away from his work, and wiped his brow. He looked around- the others were similarly busying themselves… all except one. Noel stood nearby at the edge of their camp, motionless. "Noel?" he called. But she didn't respond. He moved closer to her- she remained motionless, staring intently at one of the buildings at the edge of the square. "Noel, what is it?"

"Something here," she replied.

Quinn furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, 'something?'"

"No talk. Listen."

Quinn listened. But above the noise of the others, he couldn't hear anything. "I think that's just-" But then, beneath the din, he noticed something- a regular tap sound. He looked back at the others- the taps continued, but didn't match up with anything the others were doing.

Uther took notice of the two, and approached. "Quinn, is something the matter?"

"Could you have everyone quiet down for a moment? Noel and I heard something."

Uther furrowed his brow, listening for a moment, before turning to the camp. "Everyone, hold!" he ordered. "We may not be alone here."

Everyone stopped. In the silence, the regular tap of wood against stone could be heard clearly. What's more, each tap was louder than the last, as if whatever was making the sound was moving toward them. Any thoughts that the sound was something natural was quashed when the vanguard heard a faint voice accompany it:

"That's weird. I was sure I heard something just now."

The voice seemed to belong to a boy. And from the sound, and how Noel's gaze tracked the taps, it seemed the boy was just outside the square, on the other side of the building, moving toward the road. Nobody in the vanguard spoke, but all rested their hands warily on their weapons. After a few seconds, something emerged from behind the building and stepped into the road. It was…

…a boy, with messy dark-brown hair, wearing simple clothes in earthy shades, a wooden crutch tucked under his right arm. He put his crutch forward, making a loud tap against the stone ground, before swinging himself forward. "It sounded like it was coming from around here," the boy said to himself. He stopped. "Well, I'd better get back to finding those hollyhocks. Miss Raquel'll have my heeaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!" The boy turned his gaze to the square. When he laid eyes on the vanguard, he screamed, and stumbled back. His crutch slipped out from under his arm, and he fell back, eyes fixed on the group.

One of the vanguard stepped forward. To Quinn's surprise, it wasn't Ingrid as he'd expected, but Francis. "Don't be frightened," he said, in a calming tone.

The boy crawled back, blindly reaching for his crutch as he refused to take his eyes off the vanguard. "Who are you people!"

"We're travelers, making our way to Hessen," Francis replied. "We… thought this place was abandoned."

The boy took several deep breaths as he looked at Francis and the others. "…you don't look you're with any of the local tribes," he finally said. He looked around, grabbing his crutch, and slowly trying to rise to his feet.

Francis took a step toward the boy. "Do you need any help?"

"No, no, I… I can get it." With a grunt, the boy pushed himself back onto his feet, placing his crutch under his arm. It seemed strange to Quinn that the boy would struggle so much… until he saw the boy's right leg. It was… shriveled, almost skeletal, with dark, discolored skin pulled tightly over the bones. It seemed much shorter than the boy's left leg as well, as it swayed limply as the boy moved.

Ingrid finally stepped forward. "A boy your age shouldn't be living in a place like this by himself."

"I'm not by myself," the boy replied. "I live with the person who took me in." After a pause, he added, "…She's a witch."

"I… see." Ingrid turned, and walked to Uther and Quinn with an odd expression. "What do you make of this, Captain?"

"Hard to say," Uther replied. "Though, witch or not, we should meet with this person. If there is someone here, that would make us trespassers. And the last thing we'd want is to draw any unnecessary attention."

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest. "If anyone is trespassing, it's this 'witch.'"

"We can talk to them at least, can't we?" Quinn asked. "It can't hurt. And… we're not really up for a fight right now."

Ingrid looked at Quinn silently, before sighing. "I suppose you raise a fair point."

The three turned back toward the boy. "We'd like to meet with this… witch, if that's alright," Uther said.

"Sure. We live in the keep over there." The boy pointed to the keep at the far end of the fort, rising from the foot of the mountain. "I'll take you to her."

"Aright." Uther turned. "Everyone, form up!" The others gathered. "It seems someone's already settled here. The inquisitor, Quinn, and myself will be going to meet them."

"What about the rest of us, Boss?" Gwin asked.

"Stay here, finish setting up camp, and rest. We shouldn't be gone for long."

The boy turned, and limped toward the keep, with Quinn, Ingrid, and Uther following. As they walked, Quinn heard Gail say, "Werewolves, witches… what'll we run into next? Dragons?"

"Funny you should say that," Julius replied. "As I recall, your Order's leader, Mother Agnes…" But the priest's words faded as Quinn walked with Ingrid and Uther to the keep.

The keep itself was not as badly damaged as other buildings Quinn and the rest of the vanguard had seen, but it nonetheless bore scars of battle- as the four entered, they stepped over the gates, two massive slabs of wood and iron, battered right off their hinges and left to rot where they fell in the antechamber. The boy led Quinn and the others to a flight of stairs at the heart of the keep, and slowly began to climb. Their progress had already been slow, as they waited for the boy to hobble along, but here, they came to a near-standstill as they watched the boy slowly, carefully climb, one step at a time.

"Uh, do you…" Quinn began.

"It's fine, really," the boy quickly replied. "I climb these stairs twice a day. I can manage."

In time, they made it to the second landing. Here, the boy stopped in front of a door and looked back at the three. "This is my master's laboratory," he said. "Let me talk to her. Miss Raquel doesn't really… like visitors, but I might be able to convince her." With that, he pushed the door open.

The room beyond was a large hall with a high ceiling. Quinn was reminded of the libraries at the Abbey and the College- in fact, judging from the shelves lining the walls, the room had likely been a library at some point. But all the books were gone now, leaving the shelves bare, and many had fallen, or collapsed on themselves from rot.

But what waited near the far end of the room was what caught Quinn's attention. A number of old wooden tables were gathered in a circle, with parchments, glass vessels of all shapes and sizes, and various leaves and flowers laid across them. And at the center of all of them was a woman, leaning over one of the tables. Her back was turned, so the only feature Quinn could distinguish was her hair- a light brown, almost orange, streaming down to her waist from beneath her pointed, wide-brimmed hat.

The boy quickly began crossing the room. "Miss Raquel!"

The woman began to turn. "You're back awfully early, Gideon. Did you actually get what I needed this time? I told you, I need hollyhocks or else-"

The woman trailed off when she laid eyes on the group. Quinn and the others were left similarly speechless upon laying eyes on the woman. Her attire left… little to the imagination- a black sleeveless top with a white fringe that barely seemed to contain her… chest, and a sweeping cloth of deep purple tied around her waist that still seemed to leave much of the woman's legs exposed. After just a glance, Quinn looked away, his face heating up- he couldn't help but be reminded of the first time he'd met Evangelyne. The woman stared in shock, before pointing at the group, a small fireball igniting at her fingertips. "You have three seconds to get the hell away from my assistant."

Ingrid reached for her sword. "Go ahead," the woman said. "Try it. I'll smoke you and that whole half of the room before you could even finish blinking." Ingrid froze.

"W-Wait, Miss Raquel!" The boy hobbled forward. "These guys aren't from the tribes! Look!"

The woman looked them over, but didn't lower her hand, nor extinguish the flame burning at her fingertips.

Uther began to approach the woman, his arms raised slightly. "What the boy said is true," he began. "We aren't from this area. I'm Uther, Captain of-"

"I don't care," the woman snapped. "Leave. Now."

"We were simply looking for a place to rest for the night on our way to Hessen. After that, we'll be on our way."

Still, the woman wouldn't stand down. "This place is already taken. Sorry, but you're gonna have to find somewhere else."

Uther crept forward. "Come now, let's be civil. I'm sure we can come to-"

The fireball at the woman's fingertips shot forward. It went far to the group's left, striking the wall. The bookcase there exploded, showering the group with hot splinters. The woman then pointed at Uther, another fireball floating in front of her fingertips. "The next one won't miss."

Ingrid quickly spoke: "I see that we're not welcome. We'll be on our way."

The fireball extinguished itself, but the witch continued to point at the three. "Good." She glanced to the boy. "Gideon, see to it that these people leave. And that they don't come back."

"Yes… Miss Raquel," the boy- Gideon replied hesitantly. He limped across the room and through the door; Quinn, Ingrid, and Uther followed.

"Oh, and make sure you bring me those hollyhocks when you're done," the woman said. She flicked her wrist, and the door slammed behind them.

Gideon sighed, adjusting himself on his crutch. "I'm really sorry," he said. "Miss Raquel is… well, she's always like that, to be honest. But I didn't think she'd get so upset."

The boy began to descend the stairs- the climb down proved just as slow as their ascent. "Hey," Gideon said. "I know Miss Raquel told you to leave, but… I'll let you stay. At least, for the night. There's a few spots that are out of view of the keep. Just, uh… don't climb any stairs you find out in town, okay? They're pretty unstable."

"That woman… Raquel," Ingrid began. Her expression was… strange, but Quinn couldn't place why. "What's your relationship to her?"

"I'm her assistant," Gideon replied.

Silence fell on the group for a few moments, before Ingrid asked coldly, "Gideon… is that woman keeping you here against your will?" Now, Quinn recognized the inquisitor's tone, her expression- it was the same way she'd looked at Foreman, spoken to Foreman, when she'd taken Quinn from Lamorak.

"What, no!" Gideon protested. "She took me in after my tribe cast me out. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her." Ingrid said nothing else to Gideon, though Quinn couldn't help but notice that the grim expression remained on her face, until they reached the camp.

Uther explained what happened to the others. Almost instantly, protests went up when he told them they would have to move the camp. "Oh come on, we just finished setting up!" Quinn distinctly heard Gail shout.

"I know this situation isn't ideal," Uther began, his voice stern, "but at least we can enjoy the safety of sturdy walls, at least for tonight. You have your orders everyone. Let's get to it."

As the vanguard broke down their camp, Gideon watched, shifting uncomfortably. Eventually, he said, "Well, I have things I need to get back to. Bye."

As the group watched him depart, Gail said, "Seems like a nice kid. Sounds like his lady friend is a different story, though. Reminds me of a certain someone I know."

"And just what are you trying to imply by that?" Ingrid asked icily, her gaze turning to Gail.

Gail squeaked. "Eep! Uh, n-nothing!"

Night fell. The vanguard had relocated their camp to a side street just north of the square. Though they were hidden from the keep under daylight, once night had come, they had to keep their single fire low, to avoid detection. In the low light, the buildings around them cast eerie silhouettes, looking more like the mangled shadows of malformed beasts, than the homes of people long passed. Although the day was clear, the night sky above was solid black, and no stars could be seen.

Quinn sat in front of the fire with the others, warm stew settling in his stomach, the vanguard's days of constant travel catching up with him. But before he slipped into unconsciousness, Gail asked, "It sure is spooky out here, isn't it?" He looked over to his left, where Gail was sitting rather close, looking up at the surrounding buildings.

Yawning, Quinn replied, "I'm sure if Malcolm we're here, he'd have some scary stories to tell us." His thoughts drifted to Professor Isaac's second student. Even outside the Professor's lessons, Malcolm always seemed to be writing something in a small, leather-bound journal he always kept on hand. He claimed it was so he'd be ready if inspiration ever struck him- he adored stories, and hoped to one day write tales of his own.

"Now that you mention it, do you think we'll get to see Malcolm again soon?" Gail asked. She looked to Quinn, eyes shimmering in the flickering firelight.

"Most likely." But it was not Quinn who said this, but Ingrid, standing on the opposite side of the fire. "Once we bring Noel to the Cathedral, we'll need to meet with Master Isaac to get an assessment of our situation. So, it's safe to say his student will likely be close by."

Any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of bare feet hitting the stony street, coming from the fortress gate. Noel's voice could be heard, shouting something, but she was too far away for her words to be distinguishable. Ingrid looked in the direction of the sound was coming from, and sighed. "Noel…" she mumbled.

After a few moments, Noel appeared at the end of the street. "Scary lady!" she shouted. Ingrid turned to face the girl, but before she could say anything, Noel ran to her and threw herself at the inquisitor, almost knocking her off her feet. "Bad men! Bad men!"

Ingrid blinked in confusion. "What? 'Bad men?'"

Francis followed in the young girl's footsteps. "We have a problem," he said, a strange tone in his voice. "Come to the gates. Bring your weapons."

Bring your weapons. Those words instantly snapped Quinn out of his tired state. The others quickly got to their feet and left the alley- Quinn followed them through the fort, up a set of stairs to the top of the outer walls, and looked out onto the endless field beyond.

A line of lights stood in the fields, some five hundred peds from the gate. Quinn realized they were torches, held aloft by men mounted on horses- roughly ten in all. They wore simple, loose clothes of earthen shades- similar to Gideon's clothing, Quinn noticed. Their faces, arms, and chests, where they were exposed, were covered with black tattoos, depicting spirals and broken lines. Their weapons were varied- swords, axes, and bows- but each one of the men was armed. One unsheathed his sword, and let out a sharp cry in a language Quinn didn't understand- the others too raised their weapons, and answered the cry with one of their own.

"Who are they?" Quinn asked.

"A Sythic raiding party, I reckon," Julius replied.

"You idiots!" an angry woman's voice shouted.

The vanguard looked back- rapidly walking toward them was a woman, the same woman Quinn had met earlier. Raquel. Gideon was hobbling behind her on his crutch, calling "Miss Raquel, wait!" But Raquel didn't wait. She strode up to Uther, and jabbed an accusing finger directly into his breastplate.

"Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to get those savages to leave us alone!?" she roared. "To convince them this place was cursed? Do you? And you throw away all my hard work, just like that!"

With every sentence, she jabbed her finger against Uther's chest, until Uther reached up and grabbed her wrist. "If you've come to help us, then we would appreciate your assistance. But if you've come just to insult us, then I must ask that you stand aside." His words were polite enough, but the captain's tone made it abundantly clear that whatever patience he'd had before had evaporated in the face of the enemy.

"Help you?" Raquel asked in a small, incredulous voice. "You think I came here to help you?" The witch yanked her wrist out of Uther's grasp. "Oh no. This… is your mess. So you deal with it. And if I'm honest… I hope those savages gut you all like fish." She turned on her heel. "Let's go, Gideon. We're going back to the keep."

She walked past Gideon, who didn't move. Raquel stopped and looked back. "Gideon, we're going!"

Gideon looked to the witch, but still didn't move. "I'm… sorry, Miss Raquel," he said. "But I'm staying here."

Raquel returned to Gideon's side, laying a hand on his shoulder and gripping tightly. "Gideon." she said firmly. "We're going."

But, to Raquel's surprise, the boy pulled himself free from her grip. "No, Miss Raquel. I'm gonna help them." Gideon's voice, which before had been timid and quiet, was suddenly firm.

"You're going to help us?" Uther asked. His eyes fell on Gideon's crutch. "How?"

"Like this." The boy reached under his collar, and pulled out a small tube hanging from a cord around his neck. He blew into it, creating a shrill sound that echoed through the night.

A dark hole opened in the ground at Gideon's feet. And from its depths, something began to emerge. It pulled away from the darkness surrounding it, which clung to its body like tar, before climbing out of the hole and shaking itself off with a deep grunt. A skeletal creature stood before Quinn and the others. It had no muscles, no sinews, no flesh of any kind to speak of- only bones, bathed in an otherworldly red light, deep red lights glowing in its empty sockets. The others recoiled slightly, but without a moment's hesitation, Gideon climbed up on the creature's back. "I can't fight, but I can ride," he said. "And, Miss Raquel taught me healing magic. If you have a staff I can borrow, then I can mend any wounds you suffer."

After a moment of stunned silence, Uther looked to Julius. "Julius, do we have any staves to spare?"

"He can borrow mine. I should have a spare back at the camp, a moment please!" The priest said hurriedly, handing off the staff to the boy and racing down the stairs.

For several moments, Raquel stared at Gideon in a stunned silence. Then, her face contorting in anger, she strode to the battlements lining the fortress wall, and glanced back at Uther. "If Gideon comes out of this with so much as a scratch on him, there won't be enough of you left to bury." A fireball ignited at her fingertips. But this one was larger than the one she made in the keep- this one was the size of her fist. She pulled back her arm, and threw the fireball with all her might at the horsemen.

There was an explosion. Shouts, and whinnies rang out, and the dry grass erupted into flames. Raquel laughed, watching as the horsemen ran through the burning field. "Hahahaha! That's right! You'd better run, you damn animals!" But the horsemen weren't fleeing. They circled back, forming two lines separated by the blaze, with one fewer horse in their number. One of their number let out a harsh cry, which the others answered. Then, the two lines charged.

"Gail, witch, stay up here and cover us! Everyone else, to the gate! We'll form a defensive line there!" Uther shouted.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Raquel yelled harshly, but she remained where she was, forming another fireball and throwing it at the horsemen.

The rest of the vanguard raced down the stairs. Uther, Fiona, and Gwin let out loud whistles- in respone, their three horses came galloping to the gates, and the soldiers wasted no time mounting. "Juno," Uther continued, "you'll be at the front. Gwin, Fiona, take her flanks. Francis, Quinn, Inquisitor, form a line behind them. I'll bring up the rear."

"Got it!" Juno called, taking her position, and drawing a line in the soil with the blunt end of her spear. "Come on! Step past this line, I dare you!" she shouted, pounding her spear against her massive shield.

Quinn took his position, behind Gwin- on his right was Francis, then Ingrid. The fire spreading across the field kept the horsemen well-lit; they circled and paced, darting to avoid fireballs and gusts of wind that cut the grass like an invisible sword, the expanding walls of flames preventing them from advancing any further. But one spurred his horse onward- it leapt through the fire, and galloped toward the gate and the vanguard. The man screeched, waving his sword wildly over his head. "Everyone, hold firm!" Uther ordered.

But, as the horseman closed in, Juno rushed forward. "Haaah!" She thrust her spear, stabbing the horseman's mount in the chest. With a pained cry, the horse collapsed- the rider leapt out of his saddle, but before he could rise, Juno rushed toward him, and slammed the edge of her shield into the side of his face. He fell back and went limp. Juno laughed, bashing her spear and shield together again. "Hahaha! I hope that's not your best!" she shouted. Then, she suddenly raised her shield, blocking an arrow that another horseman had fired.

"Juno, get back in formation!" Uther ordered.

Francis rushed out, taking shelter behind Juno's shield. "I'll cover you! Come on!" he shouted. The two backed toward the gate, Francis firing at the horsemen- the enemies paced back and forth at the edge of the flames, firing back with their own bows, but the fires had spread too far, and burned too hot for them to come any closer.

At that moment, Quinn noticed something- on the horizon, far from the light of the flames, was a brilliant blue light. In seconds, the light grew brighter, and larger, revealing that it was… a blue flame, following in the wake of a black horse. A figure sat atop the horse, but even at its distance, Quinn could see that the figure was different from the other horsemen- the figure was dressed in armor of all black, and it seemed to have… no head.

Gwin leaned forward in his saddle; it seemed he too noticed the black-clad rider. "What the hell is that?"

A horseman far back from the others reined his horse to a stop, also spotting the strange rider in black. He shouted to the rider in his language, and the rider slowed to a stop. But the horseman must have realized something was wrong, because he turned his horse and tried to ride away. But with inhuman speed, the black rider drew his sword and slashed the man and his horse. The man, and the horse beneath him, fell, cleaved in two.

Cries of terror erupted among the horsemen, and they scattered in all directions, fleeing into the darkness, leaving only the rider in black. The rider pulled back on his reins, and his horse reared back, letting out a terrifying roar that no normal horse could have made. Blue fire erupted around the hooves of the horse, and engulfed the blade of his sword.

Quinn could only stare at the rider in shock. He… he'd seen him before. He knew he had. But, where… He jumped when something wrapped around his waist. He looked- it was Noel. She was shivering, eyes fixed on the black rider. "Good… guy…" she whispered.

Quinn looked down at Noel, gently trying to push her away. "It'll be okay," he said, his voice shaking. "We can take him down if we work together." His words were to reassure himself just as much as Noel, but they did little to slow his quickening pulse, to steady his now trembling hands.

As soon as the horse's hooves touched the ground, it began galloping toward the vanguard. The rider rode straight through the fires as though they weren't even there, without any sign of burns. From atop the gate, a fireball arced through the air, landing next to the rider with an ear-splitting explosion, but the rider emerged from the blaze unmarred. Francis, still hiding behind Juno and her shield, fired at the rider- but his arrows shattered against the rider's armor, not even leaving a mark where they struck. In moments, the rider had reached the hooded man, and raised his sword. Juno rushed in front of Francis, raising her shield- the rider's blow struck the shield, knocking Juno off her feet, and into Francis, sending both sprawling. The rider raised his sword once again.

"Master!" Noel pushed Quinn aside and ran toward the beast. As she did, she began to transform, but not into a wolf. The headless rider turned to "face" Noel, just in time for a hulking black… thing to seize his horse around the neck with its muscular arms. The horse tried to pull free, and the rider raised his sword to strike. But before he could, the thing twisted, and threw the horse back into the burning field, rider and all.

For a moment, the thing stood still: a grotesque, muscular beast covered in black fur, standing somewhere between man and wolf. But it only stood for a moment; with a snarling roar, it leapt into the field after the rider.

Gideon rode up to Francis and Juno, who were still struggling to climb back onto their feet. He pointed his staff first at the mercenary, then the hooded man; for a moment, they were bathed in a white light, before standing, their wounds vanishing. "Are you alright?" the boy asked.

"I'm fine," Juno replied. "But, what was that?"

Quinn stepped forward. "It was Noel." He looked to the rest of the vanguard. "Come on, we have to help her."

"How?" the mercenary asked. "That knight is damn strong. And nothing we've done has even scratched it yet."

Quinn was quiet for a moment, grip tightening on his axe. "I… I don't know," he admitted. "But we can't leave Noel to fight by herself."

Gwin glanced back to Uther. "What are your orders, Boss?"

"You heard Quinn," Uther replied, pointing his lance out into the field. "Move to support Noel."

Quinn and the rest of the vanguard hurried into the field- with the fires still burning strongly, it didn't take long to find the two black figures. Noel seemed to be holding her own quite well, relentlessly swiping her claws at the rider, leaving him no choice but to retreat. "Surround them!" Uther shouted. "Don't give him a chance to escape!" The vanguard spread out, trying to box in the rider. But right away, Quinn noticed something was wrong. Noel's attacks were quickly beginning to slow, and the rider had more and more time to evade her.

Then… there was a flash. The world was quiet, devoid of color and movement, save for the black rider and the black beast. Noel swiped her claws at the rider- his horse darted back, before rushing forward as he raised his sword and swung down. The blade cleaved through Noel's arm, and she staggered back, letting out an agonized cry. But before she could do anything, the rider drew back his sword, and let out a strong horizontal swing, that cut deep into Noel's chest.

When the world moved forward once again, Quinn rushed toward the rider. The rider's back was to him- he couldn't parry the coming blow. So, he'd have to draw the rider's attention. He drew back his arm, aiming his axe at the rider's horse.

"Heeyaaah- Gah!"

Quinn's cry was cut off when, rather than sinking into the horse's flesh, his axe… bounced off its skin, as though it were made of stone. The rider "looked" back at him, raising his sword. There was a flash- he saw the rider give a strong backhand swing. With his foresight, Quinn ducked under the attack and rushed forward, aiming his axe at the rider himself. Again, he swung, aiming at the rider's back- but once again, the axe bounced off the rider's armor, not even leaving a mark. Another flash- this time, the rider turned to face him, and let out a vertical swing from below. Quinn darted to the side, but retreated, rather than attack again.

It was no good. Even if he could see what the horseman was going to do, it didn't help if he couldn't hurt it. He glanced down at his ring. Would… that be able to hurt it? It might work, but… what about after? Would he be able to regain control of himself?

But then, he saw something strange. Noel's ears perked up, and she looked up to the sky, before turning and running away on all fours. Quinn heard Uther shout behind him "What- f-fall back! Everyone fall back, now!" He glanced up, to see what had caught the beast's attention.

A… red… line was streaking across the sky. It turned at hard angles as it moved, growing brighter and… hotter as it grew closer. "What…" he began.

"Hey get out of there!" Galloping hooves came to Quinn's ears, and before he knew what was happening, something grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away from the rider. He found himself being roughly pulled into a saddle, behind…

"F-Fiona?!" he stammered.

"Hang on!" she ordered. "And whatever you do, don't look back!"

Quinn looked back, just in time to see the red beam turn to the ground and strike the rider. There was a bright flash, and the air and ground rumbled violently. He was thrown off the horse; pain flared through his body as he hit the ground, back-first. "Gehah!" Slowly, his joints burning, Quinn climbed to his feet. His vision was… dark. He blinked, and slowly, the world came back into view.

The first thing he saw was a red figure, kneeling. "Dagda!" Fiona's voice said. "It's okay, Dagda. C'mon, up you go." The figure was indeed Fiona, kneeling next to her steed. Slowly, with labored breaths and shaking legs, the horse tried to rise from the ground.

A hard metallic footfall rang out. Quinn looked to its source: the headless black rider, emerging from a crater blasted into the ground. Its horse was gone, its left arm and shoulder was missing, black smoke pouring from its wound; but somehow it stood, still advancing, flaming sword in hand.

"How… how is it still alive?" Quinn stammered, slowly backing away. Fiona's horse was still down, and the beast Noel had transformed into was nowhere to be seen. He had no idea where everyone else was. He had to do something. Quinn's eyes fell on his ring once again. He struggled to remember Professor Isaac's lessons to waken the Rings of Power. He closed his eyes, concentrating all of his self into the ring on his finger.

Norn… hear me, he thought. Lend me your strength. Quinn felt the ring on his finger burn, the blue light shining from its gem. Black scales erupted from beneath it, covering his hand, spreading up his arm. He concentrated, tried to keep the dark that clawed at his mind at bay. He only needed a small portion, just enough to defeat his enemy, and the scales stopped when they reached his shoulder. Quinn opened his eyes, axe raised. The ring shone brightly, seeming to dim the surrounding flames. "Let's finish this," the told the headless rider.

With incredible speed, the rider charged, swinging his sword from the side. But even without Norn's foresight, Quinn parried the blow, sending the rider's sword flying from its hand. Quinn then swung with all his might, aiming at the rider's chest. The blow sent the black figure reeling, but proved too much for his axe- the handle snapped in two, and the blade spiralled through the air, before landing with a faint clang in the dirt. It seemed normal weapons couldn't hurt it. So, as the rider reeled, Quinn drew back his fist, and with a powerful cry, punched the rider with his scaled hand with all his might.

His fist punched through the rider's breastplate, through his chest, and out through his back. The rider did not cry out, or make any sound. Quinn pulled his arm back, and the rider collapsed onto his knees. He placed his hand on the ground, and strained, as though to rise, but before he could, the rider… dissolved into the same smoke that poured from his wound. The hot air from the flames carried the smoke up into the dark sky, where it vanished.

Quinn stood, taking several deep breaths. The fires were finally beginning to die down, leaving the fields dark. He looked down at his arm, and let out a long breath- the blue light shining from his ring went out, and the scales retracted. He was… himself once more. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief… until the ground shook from a heavy footfall. He turned, reflexively reaching for his belt, but then remembered his axe was broken. It was the beast- Noel. She approached quietly, without any growls or other aggressive signs, before shifting back to the black-haired girl he recognized. "Waoh… Noel didn't know good guy could do that!" she said excitedly.

"Noel… you're okay," Quinn said. "You surprised me, too." He looked back to the crater. That beam of light must have made it. "But," he began, "where did that light come from?"

"Light came from the sky," Noel replied. She pointed to the sky above the fort. "Over there." She looked, but leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as if noticing something. "Wait… something still there!"

Up above the fort, Quinn could see something in the sky. It was… a horse. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but sure enough, hanging in the sky above the fort was a horse with a pure white coat, keeping itself aloft with two enormous feathery white wings. Someone was mounted on its back, but from the distance and the darkness, he couldn't see any details. The horse dipped, and dove toward the ground, and with a great flap of its wings, it slowed itself and landed gracefully in the grass nearby- Quinn had to shield his eyes from the debris it sent up. The person mounted on its back climbed off, and approached.

In the fading light, Quinn could see that the person had red hair, cut short, and wore a red coat with white pants. They were lightly armored, with only a breastplate and a pair of tassets hanging from their belt. He raised his fist once he noticed the spear in the stranger's hands. He may not have been armed, but the Ring could make short work of a normal person- he knew that for a fact. But, to his surprise, the stranger stabbed their spear into the ground, before bending down on one knee, and asked:

"Are yew… Quinn?"

Quinn relaxed, but only slightly. He wasn't sure what to make of this stranger, but it seemed at the very least, they weren't here to fight. "Uh… I am," he replied.

"Is His Majesty, Lord Uther with yew?" Right away, Quinn noticed there was something… strange about the way the person spoke. Their enunciations and tone were… unusual, and if he didn't listen closely, their words quickly became unintelligible. The stranger's voice was oddly… husky as well- between it and their slight features, he couldn't quite tell if he was talking to a man or a woman.

"I am," Uther said. Quinn looked; the captain rode up slowly, before dismounting, the rest of the vanguard gathering. "But, who might you be?"

The stranger bowed their head, laying a hand on their chest. "Aye am Elizabeth Lecarde, heir to House Lecarde, Lords Protectors of the Isle of Morley. Aye pray yew will forgive me for mae lateness, Yer Majesty."

Uther stroked his beard for a moment, in thought, before replying, "Ah, yes, Lady Lecarde. I remember meeting with your father as we raised the army. Tell me, what brings you here?"

"Aye was chosen by Parliament to deliver yew this." Elizabeth removed a ring from her finger and held it out. Though it was too dark to see finer details, Quinn could see the gemstone set into the ring- it was a brilliant red, with a dark slit that made it resemble a cat's eye.

"Balor…" Uther muttered.

"Aye pray yew will also forgive mae indiscretion," Elizabeth continued. "Aye know this Ring is not mine to use, but…"

But Uther held up his hand. "It's alright. By using it, you may have very well saved us today. In fact… I want you to hold onto Balor for me."

Elizabeth looked up, the surprise clear on her face. "Majesty?"

Uther crossed his arms over his chest. "You're a pegasus knight, yes? From your vantage point above the battlefield, Balor would be more useful in your hands than in mine." He then said proudly, "And in any case, I've made it this far into my career without it- I've no intention of using it as a crutch now!" Uther laughed heartily.

Elizabeth lowered her hand, looking at the ring. After several moments, she owed her head, and slipped the ring on her finger. "As yew wish, Yer Majesty." She stood. "There is another reason Aye have come. Aye have been tasked to escort yew to a meeting with the commander of the Hessian forces at Fort Branden."

Quinn perked up. "The commander? That has to be the Professor!"

"How fares the Hessian front?" Uther asked.

For a few moments, Elizabeth was quiet. "The situation is… grim, as Aye understand it. But, Commander Isaac understands the situation better."

"I see." Uther turned, and mounted his horse. "We'll take you to our camp. I imagine after your journey, you could do with some rest."

Far away from Fort Felhold, in a city still held in the grip of winter, a castle stood. It was built of dark stone, its interior rooms and halls bare of any tapestries, paintings, or other opulent decorations that would be expected of an emperor's residence. The people of this harsh and unforgiving land looked down at such displays as a waste of resources better put to use elsewhere- even their rulers were not exempted from this.

In a hall that was just as spartan as the rest of the castle, a man sat on a simple wooden throne. His dark hair was cropped short, and he wore the black uniform of his nation's military. But he did not wear the uniform simply to impress others- he wore the uniform because he was a soldier, trained to fight. After all, a leader unwilling to fight to defend his nation had no right to call himself such.

In the man's hand were a number of documents, sent from his spies abroad. Graf Alibert's attempt to assassinate Mother Agnes had failed, but that was unsurprising- a woman like her would not be felled so easily by a mere assassin. Still, there had been an unexpected benefit. Oswald, the king of Bannon had been slain, and an incident at Tol Castell- coupled with reports of Burgundian soldiers moving along the Hessian border- led the Bannish Parliament to conclude Burgundy had been the culprits, and were mobilizing for war. And war between Bannon, Burgundy, and Hessen would leave all three weakened, and place him at an advantage. "I'll have to reward the good Graf," the man muttered as he read the reports.

At that moment, the doors at the far end of the throne room were thrown open, and a boy entered. He too wore the black uniform of the army- though he was not a soldier, his role was just as important. The boy crossed the room, standing before the man with his arms clasped in front of him- he did not kneel as other visitors did, but as the Imperial Hand, he did not need to. "Apologies for the intrusion, my lord. But there is something I wish to report."

"You may speak," the man replied, setting the documents aside.

The boy seemed hesitant. "It's Dullahan, my lord. She has… been destroyed."

"It is no small feat to strike down an Einherjar," the man said, clasping his hands. "Did you see Dullahan's enemies?"

The boy replied, "Yes, my lord," and described what he had seen through the eyes of his agent: The woman who fired beams of light from her eyes, the woman in white with blue hair.

"Balor," the man said. "And the Order's Inquisitor. They're a long way from Hessen."

"What is your will, my lord?" the boy asked. "Shall I send another Einherjar after them?" He held up his hand for emphasis, revealing a golden ring with a brilliant opal set into it.

But the man held up his hand, a sign for the boy to restrain himself. "There is no need, my boy. Dullahan will regenerate in time. And in any case, Balor and the inquisitor are but pawns in this game. And the movements of pawns can be predicted."

The boy lowered his hand. "As you will, my lord." He paused for a moment. "There was… another. Someone I couldn't identify from the spies' reports." He described this person as well, and his transformation: Black scales, a single horn that pointed forward from his temple, and three eyes that shone with a brilliant blue light.

The man's eyes widened slightly, and he leaned forward on his throne. "Are you certain?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, my lord."

The man slowly leaned back. "I… see." He looked away. "Leave me."

"Yes, my lord." The boy bowed, and departed.

The man sat on his throne, ruminating in silence. Black scales, blue eyes… the description matched what his father, and grandfather had told him of… her. The one who had revealed the truth of this land they called Aurea. But, she had never made a Ring of her own. Or at least, if she had, she had withheld such knowledge. But why resurface now, of all times? And who was this boy? Would she remain in the shadows, using him as her proxy? Or would she at long last emerge and take her place on the board?

In truth, it mattered not to him what she did- he would act all the same, with, without, and even against her, if need be. But still, the man could not help but to be troubled by this news.

"Tiamat…" he muttered. "What are you after?"

Although dawn had come, the fort and the surrounding fields were still in darkness, blanketed by the shadows cast by the mountains. Even so, the members of the vanguard were awake, packing away their camp as they prepared to move on.

Elizabeth looked around the camp, a mixture of shock and disdain on her face. She turned to face Uther. "Yer Majesty, these accommodations are unfitting for one of yer status."

"If I'm to be perfectly honest, I actually find them rather comfortable," Uther replied. "But that aside, although I may be the most apparent heir, I'm not yet a king. And I will not place myself above any of the soldiers I fight alongside."

But as they worked, the vanguard was beholden to a strange sight- a covered wagon rolled down the road leading from the keep, laden with all sorts of materials, pulled by the strange skeletal creature Gideon had summoned the night before. Raquel and Gideon himself sat at the front. When the wagon passed alongside the camp, Raquel held up her fist, and the wagon came to a sudden halt. "So," she began. "You're finally leaving."

"We are," Uther replied.

Raquel looked away. "Hmph. Good riddance. You haven't even been here a full day, and look at all the trouble you brought with you."

Elizabeth strode up to the wagon with a dangerous expression. "Yew will address His Majesty with respect," she growled. "It is because of this man that yew still breathe- a man whose footsteps yew are not worthy to tread upon."

"Stand down, Elizabeth," Uther ordered. "I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me." The captain looked at the wagon the witch and her apprentice were riding. "Although, it seems you won't be staying, either."

"No thanks to you," Raquel snapped.

"Those riders that escaped…" Gideon began. "They'll come back, with the rest of their tribe. We can't fight all of them by ourselves, so we have to leave before they come."

Uther stepped forward. "Why not travel with us, then? We can escort you to the nearest town, at the very least."

Elizabeth looked back. "Majesty, are yew sure that's wise?"

Raquel looked away. "No thanks. You've already done enough."

But, Gideon laid a hand on the witch's shoulder. "Come on, Miss Raquel," he said.

Raquel looked to the boy, before slumping in her seat. "Fine," she said, exasperated. "But don't keep us waiting."

Further into the camp, away from Uther in the others, Quinn sat in a side alley, alone. The events of the previous knight played through his head. There was no mistaking it. The surroundings may have been different, but that headless rider he'd fought… it was the same as the one he saw in his vision. He hadn't told anyone of what he'd seen the day of his initiation, for good reason- he didn't recognize the figures he saw. It was possible that if he were more worldly, if he'd had more knowledge of state affairs, he might-

"Quinn."

Quinn jolted. He looked, to see Ingrid standing at the end of the alley, looking at him sternly. "You're supposed to be helping the others break camp."

Quinn stood. He wasn't sure what to make of that vision, but he could say at least one thing- it was real. It showed places and people that he would encounter. He had to tell her. He didn't know what his vision was leading to, but if it was an ill omen, maybe… he could avert it. Maybe, he could change the future. Quinn finally approached Ingrid, and said:

"That rider we fought last night… I've seen him before."

Ingrid blinked, clearly surprised by his words. "You have?" she asked. "Where?"

"At my initiation, when… when King Oswald was killed, I… I had a vision."

The situation was perfect. Her back was turned, hunched over a fallen tree, and his steps had been quiet. There was no way she could have heard his approach. His heart raced with anticipation. Today would finally be the day. After taking a long, quiet breath, he charged. "Heyaaah!"

Fiona stepped to the side, grabbing Gwin's arm. With ease, she rolled him over her back and threw him to the ground, on his stomach.

"Gah!" He cried out, and rolled onto his side, curling up slowly. "Aaagh… oh, that smarts…"

Fiona looked down at her brother, arms crossed. "Gwin, you should know by now that you can't sneak up on me," she said.

Gwin struggled to his feet. "Ah… what gave me away?"

She looked up, to a tree close to where Gwin had been hiding. "The birds up there went quiet for some reason. There's no large predators in this area, so it had to be a person. And… I know my brother better than anyone."

"Sharp as ever, Sis." Gwin dusted himself off. "So, what're up to?"

"Gathering firewood. Mind lending me a hand?"

"Sure! Bet I can carry more than you!"

Fiona shot her brother a look. "You know you can't."

A few minutes passed as the two gathered the needed wood. As they made their way back to camp, Gwin wavered under the weight of the massive bundle he'd made. Fiona looked over to him. "Are you sure you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I can manage. Just gotta- aagh!" He teetered, and fell. "Ow."

"Gwin…" Fiona began. "Why do you insist on these challenges? We aren't children anymore."

"I know," Gwin replied, as he fumbled with his bundle of firewood. "But, I think it's good practice."

Fiona glanced over. "Practice?"

"Well, you're the strongest fighter I know. And if I can keep pace with you, then I should be able to beat anyone." Gwin smiled. "And, if I actually manage to beat you, then aaaie!" Gwin wavered, and fell again.

Fiona looked down at her brother, unimpressed, before picking up the bundle he dropped and setting it on her shoulder. "I don't think that'll be happening anytime soon."

Night had fallen. Fiona sat in front of the campfire, sharpening her spear. As she ran a whetstone along her weapon's edge, Quinn approached. "Hey, Fiona? Do you have a moment?"

"Oh, hey… Quinn." There was a distinct pause, as though Fiona struggled for a moment to remember his name. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah. I was wondering about you and Gwin. The two of you seem kind of… close."

Fiona blinked in confusion. "Uh, I suppose. We are brother and sister- we're about as close as two people can get."

Quinn sat down next to the knight. "Oh. Brother and sister. That makes sense." He paused. "What's… it like?"

"Huh? What's what like?" Fiona asked, tilting her head.

"Having a sibling."

Fiona slowly set down her weapon and whetstone. "Where… is this coming from?"

Quinn scratched his head, looking away sheepishly. "Sorry. I know it's a strange question. But, I was curious."

"I'm guessing you don't have any siblings of your own?"

Quinn lowered his gaze. "I don't have… any family. Both of my parents died when I was young, and as far as I know, I don't have any siblings." He looked over to Fiona. "So… I don't really know what 'normal' families look like."

"…Well," Fiona began, hesitantly, "you don't have to share blood with someone for them to be family. Like that woman you're always with. Ingrid, right?"

"Uh… I don't… really think of Miss Ingrid like that." Quinn felt his face heat up as he said this, but he couldn't say why.

Fiona thought for a moment. "Is… there anyone else you're close to?"

This time, it was Quinn's turn to think. "I guess… there's my mentor, Professor Isaac. And Gail and Malcolm, too. When we students at the College, we were always together."

Fiona smiled. "See? You do have a family. Maybe not in blood, but definitely in spirit."

Quinn's face heated up again. "I don't know. It… kind of embarrassing to think of it like that."

Fiona smiled still, but her smile changed from friendly to… devious. "Speaking of embarrassing, that's a perk of family- you get to tell embarrassing stories about each other."

"Is that right?" Quinn asked.

"Yep. Like the time Gwin got kicked by a horse."

Quinn looked at the knight, unsure of how to reply. "Um… would Gwin be okay with you telling that story?"

She waved away his concern. "It's fine. Anyway, years ago, when Gwin and I were squires- knights in training- we were reshoeing our master's horses…"

Francis readied his bow, taking aim at a nearby tree. He let his arrow fly- it struck the tree, but slightly below and to the left of the spot he'd aimed toward. "Hmm… I just replaced the string," he mumbled. "Maybe the bow itself is wearing."

"Hey."

Francis looked- nearby, leaning against a tree, was Juno. "Did you need something?" he asked. "Has Uther called a meeting?"

"Oh, no. I was just watching. I've gotta say, it's pretty rare for men out here to favor bows. Most prefer swords. Say it makes them feel like the heroes in their stories they heard when they were kids." Her eyes eventually turned to Francis's weapon. "That's a… pretty rough looking bow you've got there. Make it yourself?"

Francis nodded. "I did."

Juno leaned against the tree again, hand on her chin, before pushing herself away. "I wanna show you something. Wait here for a moment." And she hurried away.

A minute passed, then two. Francis waited, pondering if he should look for Juno, when the mercenary returned. "Sorry about that. Have a look at this."

She held up a bow. It was exquisitely made from some dark wood, with smooth curves, completely unlike the roughly made bow in Francis's hands.

"It's a fine weapon…" Francis said. "But, I thought you fought with a spear."

"Warriors of Coea are trained using five main weapons on the battlefield. The spear and the bow are two of them." She held it towards the hooded man. "Here. Try it out for yourself."

He looked up at the mercenary. "Are you sure?"

"Go ahead. I don't mind. Really."

Francis took the bow, turning to the tree he'd been using as a target. Slowly, he notched an arrow, and drew back the string. He aimed, and let his arrow fly.

The arrow hit directly where he aimed- and much more- it punched a hole straight through the trunk of the tree. Francis could only stare in shock.

"A whole world of difference, isn't it?" Juno asked, looking toward Francis with a sly smile. "That's what a real weapon can do." She stepped in front of him. "Tell you what- you can keep that bow. At least, until you can get a proper one of your own."

Francis looked down at the bow, then to Juno, surprised. "…Are you sure?" he asked.

"You said it yourself- I prefer the spear myself. But, I still know enough that I could give you some pointers. What do you say?"

Francis looked down at the bow again. "I think… I'll take you up on that. Everything I know I learned on my own, so it would be good to get some proper training."

"Alright." The mercenary stepped back. "First, let's start with something simple. Show me how you usually shoot."

Francis did just that- he notched an arrow, and held up his bow, drawing back the string.

The smile disappeared from Juno's face. "Okay, two things right away. First, if you're shooting from an upright stance, you hold the bow upright, too. Second, you don't need to draw so far back. The bow should do most of the work for you."

Francis turned his hand so the bow was upright, and slackened his grip on the string. "Like this?"

"Not quite. Spread your legs a little, so your feet are the same width as your shoulders…"

"Raquel! Hey, Raquel!" Gail called, approaching the witch's wagon. The vanguard had stopped for the night, and although she'd searched the camp, Gail could find no trace of the witch. The wagon was the only place she hadn't checked yet.

The door at the back of the wagon opened slightly, and Raquel peered out. "You don't have to yell."

"Oh hey, there you are!" She hurried to the wagon. "I wanted to ask you something. Do you have a moment?"

"You wouldn't leave if I said no, would you?" Raquel opened the door fully. "What is it?"

"Well, during the last battle, I noticed something: you don't use any tomes to cast spells? How do you do it?" Gail began bouncing up and down on her heels. "Oh, don't tell me! Is it a special bloodline going back thousands of years? Are the spells tattooed on your body?"

"That's ridiculous," Raquel replied. "I use these." She reached into the wagon, and held out a flask, full of some dark brown liquid.

Gail leaned in to look closer. "What is that?" She reached toward the flask, but Raquel pulled it out of her reach.

"What do you know of magic?" the witch asked.

"Well…" Gail was silent for a moment as she thought. "What we call 'magic…' is special energy carried through the air on the wind. The spells in tomes, like this one-" She held up her tome. "-are sets of instructions giving this energy certain properties and telling it to act in certain ways."

Raquel looked down at the girl in surprise. "You know more than you let on. But magic isn't just carried by the wind. It settles in certain objects, permeating them, and imbuing them with certain properties. My people knew how to extract this energy, and distill it into potions like this one." She held up the flask for emphasis. "From there, we could shape this energy, and unleash it however we wished." Raquel leaned forward. "You didn't think I made all these just for fun, did you?"

Gail held out her hand. "Can I try it? Just one?"

Raquel was silent, but eventually held out the flask. "Just-"

But before she could say anything else, Gail snatched the flask and began to drink from it. But as soon as the liquid touched her lips, she doubled over, retching and spitting loudly "Uuuagh! Ppth! Ptpth! Oh- oh it burns!"

Raquel laughed at the younger girl. "I was just about to tell you to drink it slowly."

Gail took several breaths, still spitting. "Ah, oh… I feel like I just… swallowed a sponge."

"Now," Raquel continued, "the energy should've had enough time to settle in your body. Hold up your hand, and concentrate."

"O-Okay." Gail did as she was asked. As she focused, there was a spark, and a small flame ignited over her fingertip. "Whoa!" she cried. "It really-" But then, the flame went out. "Wha- no! No don't go out!"

"It's alright," Raquel said. "The small dose you took wouldn't have lasted long. Just like how the spells in your tomes are used up with each cast, there's only a finite amount of energy that can be extracted from an object."

Gail looked to the witch hopefully, but Raquel cut her off: "I know what you're going to ask. No, I don't have any potions that contain wind essence. My element of choice is fire, so I have no need for them."

Gail's shoulder slumped, but she reluctantly said, "That's… probably for the best. I don't think I could drink another drop of that stuff."

Notes:

Raquel: A post-rework character, Raquel's initial inspiration was not a character, but a whole Fire Emblem class- the Witch, specifically. Over time, she took on elements from Dragon Crown's Sorceress and to a lesser extent, Blazblue's Nine, with all the fanservice such characters entail. For a while, Raquel didn't have much of a personality, though after some consideration and ironing out her backstory, I decided to make her hostile, belligerent, and somewhat immature. Archetype wise, she doesn't really fit into any of the standard spots. Her ideal voice actor would be Laura Landa.

Gideon: Gideon was created right alongside Raquel as her companion. Initially, I'd planned for Raquel and Gideon to have a relationship like that of Pit and Palutena from Kid Icarus- though Raquel significantly drifted away from Palutena's character, Gideon remained largely unchanged. Aside from Pit, he has two major inspirations- Forrest from Fates, as a male Troubadour (his creation would in fact motivate me to continue this trend), and Bran Stark from Game of Thrones, as a crippled character whose horse-riding skills compensate for his inability to walk on his own. His closest parallel in archetypes would be the Maria. His mount- a summoned skeletal horse- was a fairly late addition. Would be voiced by Antony del Rio, if he had a voice actor.

Elizabeth: Elizabeth was actually the second character to be inspired by Morag from Xenoblade 2, after Ingrid. This can be seen in my attempt to emulate a strong Scottish accent, and a few elements of her personality and backstory. Her appearance was also inspired by Hilde from Soulcalibur, and Cordelia from Awakening, although unlike the latter, she doesn't quite fall into the Catria archetype. Like her initial inspiration, Elizabeth was always intended to be very masculine, but it wasn't until fairly late that I decided to make her somewhat androgynous as well, which would technically make her a gender inversion of the "beautiful priest" archetype. If she had a voice actress, it would most likely be Erin Fitzgerald.
Elizabeth's Ring of Power, Balor, takes its name from the figure from Irish mythology, who could cause devastation when he opened his single eye. In terms of appearance and workings, it more closely emulates the Omega Beams used by Darkseid from the DC Universe.

Mt. Felhold: The word "félhold" means "crescent" in Hungarian, referring to the circular hole near the peak of the mountain. I just entered "crescent" into Wiktionary and picked the translation I liked the most.

The Dullahan: The Dullahan was inspired by the creature of the same name of Irish mythology. Further information about its nature will be revealed as the story progresses.