Chapter XII: Armiger

After the war was done, and negotiations were settled, everyone returned home. And from there, Quinn soon fell into a steady routine.

After three weeks at sea, the ships carrying the vanguard and the rest of the army home docked in Bannish ports, and Quinn returned to Tristan with the others. There, at the castle, he and the rest of the vanguard watched as Uther was crowned, and Oswald was laid to rest. After, the many members of the vanguard went their separate ways. Uther, of course, had to remain in Tristan, as Bannon's new head of state. Fiona, Gwin, and Julius returned to their regular duties within the army. Elizabeth journeyed back to Morley to return Balor, swearing she would return swiftly to Uther's side if he should need her aid. Noel remained at the Abbey to undergo training as a future Archon, with Francis at her side. Evangelyne, her retainers, Orion, Yonah, and Espada remained in Tristan as well, awaiting new assignments from Mother Agnes. Juno disappeared into the city without a word, presumably to look for work. Curiously, Raquel chose to stay at the Abbey, Gideon faithfully remaining at her side, to resume… whatever studies she was engaged in- if the letters Quinn received regularly from Francis were to be believed, she was making quite a nuisance of herself. And as for Quinn himself…

He returned to the Arcane College, along with Gail, Malcolm, and Professor Isaac, to resume his studies. Lindow accompanied him, quickly becoming bored with the academic life. And so, at long last, peace returned to Quinn's life.

But, Quinn couldn't help but feel… bored by his new routine. His bed was strangely uncomfortable, the food at the College seemed flavorless compared to Gwin's cooking, and more than once, Quinn headed out into the wilderness outside Corburg to give his old axe a few swings undisturbed. And throughout that time, he received no sign of what Ingrid was up to- no visits, no letters, not even a mention in the occasional letter from Mother Agnes. He knew he shouldn't have been disappointed. He knew just how important Ingrid's investigation was. But he hated the feeling of helplessness. Of knowing that Ingrid was working so hard, while he was doing nothing. But as much as he wanted to help, Quinn knew he didn't have the inquisitor's skill in subterfuge- if he tried, he would be found easily, putting both himself and her in danger. And the last thing he wanted was to endanger Ingrid. So, all he could do was sit, and wait.

A month passed. Then two. Then three. Then, almost a whole year had passed.

Then, on one warm morning, a knock came to Quinn's dormitory door. Isaac had been called away by Mother Agnes for an assignment, so it couldn't have been Malcolm rousing him to ensure he wouldn't be late for classes. Quinn staggered to the door, grumbling, "Gail had better not have gotten herself stuck on the roof again."

But the person at the door wasn't Malcolm. Or Gail. Or Lindow. Or anyone else Quinn had been expecting.

Standing in the hallway just outside the door was a woman, dressed in white, her arms clasped behind her back. Her clothes, which he once thought strange, were now a familiar, comforting sight- a white coat with dark brass buttons, white pants, and a white cap, along with black gloves, black boots, and a black belt with a white sword hanging from it, all immaculately clean. Once, she'd been the tallest woman he'd ever met, but now, he was tall enough to look her in the eye. Her clothes, her hair, her eyes… not a single detail of her had seemingly changed since he'd last seen her.

She removed her cap, letting her hair fall down her back, and gave Quinn a small, but genuine smile of happiness. "It's been a long time, Quinn."

Quinn didn't reply. He simply turned his back to the inquisitor and walked to the chest of drawers in his quarters. He rifled through the drawers until he found what he was looking for- his axe. He'd lost count of how many times he'd had this dream. But by now, he knew how to end it. All he had to do was run his palm across the blade of his axe, and he would wake up-

"Agh!"

A sharp pain shot through his hand, followed by the sensation of blood flowing down his palm. Quinn looked down at his bleeding hand, before slowly turning to Ingrid, eyes wide.

Still, he didn't say anything. He simply ran up to the inquisitor, throwing his arms around her in a tight embrace. He held her, silently reveling in the sensation of being in Ingrid's presence. He was glad she couldn't see his face. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself by crying in front of her. He was an adult now, after all.

Wordlessly, Ingrid's hand slipped around his back, and she returned his embrace. After a moment, she finally said, "You've gotten taller again."

"I'm so happy to see you again," he said. "I'm glad you're okay. I was… I mean, I know I shouldn't have been worried, but it's been so long since I heard from you…" It was with the utmost reluctance that he finally pulled back. "So. What did you find?"

But Ingrid shook her head. "Not here," she replied. "I need to report my findings directly to Mother Agnes. But that's why I came here first. I want you to hear this, too. Now hurry and get dressed. We need to leave."

Quinn hurriedly dressed himself, not in his College uniform, but in his Order garb. Even after months of not wearing it, it fit him perfectly.

As soon as Quinn was dressed, the two began walking down the darkened corridor to the College's main courtyard. "So," Ingrid began, "how have your studies been progressing?"

"Oh, things have been going well," Quinn replied. "The professor's been away for the last few weeks, so me, and Gail and Malcolm were studying under some of the other teachers here…" Ordinarily, he wouldn't have bothered Ingrid with such idle pleasantries. But after months on end away, he wanted to take in as much of her as he could- how she walked, the sound of her voice…

But it didn't take long to reach the courtyard, where a man was waiting. "Ah, good. There you are." Isaac said.

Quinn suddenly stopped. "Professor?" he asked. "I thought you were on assignment."

Isaac pushed his glasses up slightly. "Oh, I am. It just so happens my assignment was to meet with Ingrid and send her to the Abbey. Now, I just need you to stand clear…" The professor hadn't changed much in the year since the war, though after one of his assignments, he'd changed his glasses to ones with darkened lenses. He never told Quinn exactly what had happened, only that he'd been hurt in a way that made him sensitive to light.

With Bifrost, Isaac created a shimmering portal. Sweat was beginning to form on his brow. "Go on," he huffed. "It's best not to keep Mother Agnes waiting." Without a word, Ingrid stepped through the portal. Quinn uttered a quick "Thank you, Professor," before following her.

The portal closed as soon as Quinn stepped through. And for good reason, as Quinn found himself in front of the audience chamber of the Abbey, in Bannon, hundreds of milla away. Quinn looked around- he never had the chance to spend much time in the Abbey, but its cloisters, and well-cared-for plants seemed unchanged since his last visit.

But his musings were interrupted when a voice called, "Quinn. Miss Inquisitor."

The two looked. Striding across the courtyard lawn was a man in battered grey armor, with short orange hair and a short orange beard. He, too, hadn't changed- the only difference was that he now wore a short cape of blue and silver, fixed to his armor by silver clasps. He smiled down at the two. "It seems I caught you at the perfect time."

"Captain Uther!" Quinn exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Uther crossed his arms. "Mother Agnes recently informed me that the Order was conducting its own investigation into Oswald's death, and invited me to hear what you've learned. I'll admit, I'm curious to see if you managed to succeed where we failed."

"I take it the official inquiry isn't faring well," Ingrid said.

Uther's smile faded. "Things aren't going well, I'll admit. Progress was always slow, but for the last few months, our investigation has stalled entirely. Since King Martel's passing in Narbeleth, Prince Gadolt has become exceptionally uncooperative."

Quinn blinked in surprise. Martel was dead? He didn't know. In truth, Quinn knew very little of what had happened in the world ever since returning to the College. Isaac had kept news to a minimum, saying it was so Quinn could focus entirely on his studies, but he had a suspicion that it was more so he wouldn't go out investigating on his own.

Ingrid, however, seemed unsurprised by the news. "So I've heard," she replied. "Burgundy's military is still recovering, but let's hope Gadolt doesn't do anything rash." She shook her head. "But, we shouldn't keep Mother Agnes waiting." Ingrid turned, and pushed open the doors to the audience chamber and entered.

The audience chamber of the Abbey hadn't changed. Not since the war began, not since the day Quinn had first set foot in that hall nearly four years ago. Mother Agnes and Evangelyne were there, waiting, Agnes seated on her throne, and Evangelyne standing at her right hand. Even with her eyes shut, one could always tell when Agnes was looking at them. Ingrid approached the dais, and knelt. Quinn did the same, though Uther remained standing. "Mother Agnes," the inquisitor began. "I have returned, as requested."

"Hey, perfect timing," Evangelyne said. "We were just talking about your investigation."

Agnes held up a hand, silencing Evangelyne. "Welcome home, Ingrid, Quinn. And thank you for coming, Uther. Now…" Agnes leaned forward. "Please share all that you've learned in your investigation, Ingrid."

Ingrid looked away, adjusting her cap. "My investigation… has not uncovered any evidence of a conspiracy surrounding King Oswald's assassination, Mother Agnes."

Agnes sat up in her throne, eyes opening slightly. "That's rather surprising. I sent you because you have the ability to find things others might miss."

Ingrid hung her head. "Unfortunately, there isn't just a lack of evidence, but a complete absence of any leads to follow." She looked up to Agnes again. "However, I find the lack of leads in itself to be suspicious."

"What do you mean by that?" Uther asked.

Ingrid began to explain: "Documents from around the date of Oswald's assassination are absent from the Hessians' records. Individuals who may have information from around that time have vanished under mysterious circumstances, as well. Of particular note is the disappearance of Captain Joachim of the Hessian Sixth Regiment, the scouts under his command who allegedly first sighted the Burgundians advancing toward the Hessian border, and Commander Varrot, commander of the Burgundian garrison at Couteau Bridge." The inquisitor stood. "I believe there is evidence that a third party is involved in the war, but that they are attempting to systematically erase all traces of their involvement."

Uther rubbed his chin with his hand. "I'll grant that the disappearances are suspicious…" the captain began, "…but missing documents is hardly evidence of a conspiracy."

Ingrid glanced to Uther. "As their ally, I would hope you would realize just how seriously Hessen takes documentation. Their records of all their military activities would fill every shelf in the Abbey's library. That any records would be missing would be enough to cause suspicion. That seemingly all records around a particular point in time are absent…"

But Agnes interrupted. "While you make a compelling argument, Ingrid," she began, "I'm afraid I must agree with Uther. Missing documents and a lack of witnesses are not on their own proof of a third party's involvement. We need something more… compelling."

Ingrid looked… shocked, in a way Quinn had never seen before. Clearly, she had expected Mother Agnes to take her side. She brought her hand to her chin, in thought…

But at that moment, a voice rang out. "Make no mistake- the evidence you seek does exist. But you won't find it. Not on this side of Kherson's border, at least."

Everyone looked around. The unfamiliar voice seemed to come from every direction at once. But there were no unfamiliar faces in the room. And there were no shadows to hide in, no outcroppings or pillars for an intruder to hide behind.

Agnes stood, eyes open, her irises glowing red. "Show yourself."

A man… appeared in front of the dais, in front of Ingrid. He didn't emerge from the shadows- one moment, he wasn't there, and the next, he simply… was. He was an older man, tall and pale, with thin white hair and a gaunt face. He wore a long black coat that reached his ankles, a black undershirt, black trousers… all of his clothes were black.

"That uniform…" Ingrid said, drawing her sword. "You're Khersonian."

But the inquisitor stopped when Mother Agnes held out her hand. "Valerian Aulstyne," Agnes said. "Khersonian Consul for Alytus. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I'm surprised you recognized me," the man- Valerian- said. "The Consuls aren't well-known outside Kherson's borders."

"It is my job to know things," Agnes said coldly as she looked down at the intruder. "Now… why are you here?"

Valerian turned his gaze to Ingrid for a moment. "Your agent has given the Imperial Intelligence Service quite the headache. The Imperium has a vested interest in creating conditions favorable to their interests in western Aurea, but takes great pains to erase any signs of direct intervention. But recently, they've been so busy covering their tracks abroad that they've been neglecting internal affairs. Eyes that were once on me have been moved elsewhere." He narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to make Reman regret being so careless."

Agnes shut her eyes, tilting her head slightly. "You're defecting?"

"Defecting?" Valerian scoffed. "My loyalties were never with the Imperium. I want what any true Alyt wants- to see the flag of my forefathers, flying freely over my homeland." He pointed at Agnes. "And you can help me make that dream a reality."

Quinn blinked. He knew those words. From his vision.

"I can assure you, no one in this room has any love for Kherson," Uther said. "But we have no reason to help you. Your homeland's independence is a matter strictly between you and Kherson."

Valerian looked to Uther, touching the brim of his cap. "That is not entirely true, my good Captain."

Agnes stepped down from the dais, and loomed over Valerian. "Explain," she ordered.

The man in black reached into his coat, and pulled out a roll of parchment. "Recently, a letter came into my possession. Penned by Emperor Reman II himself, addressed to your ally, the Graf of Corburg. This letter not only proves that the two were conspiring together, but that Bannon's recent war with Burgundy was deliberately started under false pretenses."

Quinn looked to Ingrid. She looked back at him in turn. This was it- the evidence that she had been looking for.

Agnes held out her hand. "Let us see that letter."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Valerian replied, tucking the letter back into his coat.

Evangelyne stepped down, a pair of tendrils bursting from her shoulders, tipped by sharp blades of bone. "Agnes wasn't asking."

But Valerian reached into his pocket and pulled out something else- a golden ring. He slipped it onto his finger, and in an instant, vanished.

"I believe I've given you more than enough to work with," Valerian's voice said, from all directions. "But know this: I will be watching you. And if you choose to pursue the lead I've given you, I'll accept it as a tacit agreement to my offer."

Evangelyne strode to where the man had been standing, sniffing the air, her teeth lengthened into sharp fangs. She looked back to Agnes. "I've got his scent. You want me to track him down?"

"No," Agnes replied, stepping onto the dais, and seating herself in her throne. "You recognized his Ring, did you not? There won't be a trail for you to follow."

Quinn realized what Agnes had said. "Wait. That guy had a Ring of Power?" he asked.

"Indeed," Agnes replied. "Gyges. It makes its wearer imperceptible to all senses, and able to slip past any barrier. We thought it lost forever, with Kherson's conquest of Alytus." Agnes looked to Ingrid. "It appears I must apologize to you, Ingrid. The Imperial Intelligence Service is a force to be reckoned with. Covering their tracks in the way you described would be trivial for them."

Quinn should have been relieved. This was exactly the break Ingrid needed. But… "How can we be sure that guy is telling the truth?" he asked.

Uther had been glowering silently ever since Valerian revealed himself. But he finally spoke, replying, "We won't. Unless we speak to Graf Alibert directly."

"You seem troubled by this news, Uther," Agnes said. "Please, don't restrain yourself on my part. Speak your mind."

Uther hesitated for several moments before answering. "…Alibert is a good man, a friend of my late father. That he could be accused of such treachery…" He looked down, clenching his hand into a fist. "I vowed to uncover the truth of why Oswald was killed, but I pray to whatever gods will listen that that man is lying."

Lithe 14, 707

A week and a half later, Quinn and Ingrid were once again back in Hessen. The reason for the delay was twofold: first, they had returned by ship. And second, they were far from alone. Uther had spared no expense in calling back together all the members of the vanguard to meet with Graf Alibert. Agnes had thought the effort excessive, but ultimately allowed it- after all, if Kherson truly was involved, it was best not to take any chances.

The vanguard had arrived at port in the night, and so waited until morning to set out. Professor Isaac, Gail, and Malcolm came to meet them, and began to guide them, not to Corburg as Quinn expected, but to the countryside east of the city. Quinn asked as they traveled, "Wouldn't it be safer to live in the city?"

"That's rich people for you," Lindow said, with an edge to his voice. "Treating being poor like some disease you can catch."

Hours passed, and the sun began to set. Graf Alibert's estate was still some distance away; aside from the usual risks of traveling under the cloak of darkness, Uther decided that if a confrontation were to occur, the vanguard should be fully rested and ready for battle. So, they set up camp, and settled in for the night. Once everything was done, Quinn sat by one of the many fires in the camp, simply taking in the sensation of being close to everyone, listening in on the conversations around him.

"…it's a shame we won't be stopping in the city," Gwin said from somewhere behind him. "I've heard the Hessians have some special techniques that keep food fresh for long campaigns."

"The city? You mean Corburg?" Juno asked in reply. "The first mercenary crew I joined used to work out of there, you know. Got a lot of good memories from the taverns around there."

But a moan from directly across from him drew Quinn's attention: "Mmmmmmgghh…" It was Noel. She was laying with her face resting against an open book, not reading it. Seated next to her was Julius, seemingly unmoved by the younger girl's plight.

"I would ask that you show the learning material I brought more respect, Noel," he said, as calm and impassive as ever. "Now, please continue."

Noel's response was a short, muffled, "Don't wanna."

"Noel." Julius narrowed his eyes slightly.

The girl finally sprang up, looking at the priest. "Is too hard! Can't Master just read for Noel?"

"That would defeat the purpose," Julius answered calmly. "You must understand, this is about more than simply reading. It is about developing independence. You will not always be able to rely on your master to solve your problems for you."

Noel dropped her head into her book again, letting out another long moan.

Julius tapped his temple for a moment, thinking, before saying "Besides, I am sure Francis would be happy to see you developing new skills."

Noel picked herself up again. "Master would… be happy with Noel?" She took the book in her hands. "Noel can keep going!"

Julius let the smallest of smiles pass over his lips. "Very well. Now, let us continue where you left off."

"Okay!" Noel looked down at her book… and quickly furrowed her brow. "…smart guy? What's an 'Enderi?' Is it tasty?"

Julius simply sighed in response.

"You seem pleased about something," a voice said, snapping Quinn back to his senses. He looked- it was Isaac. The professor took a seat next to him. "Care to share?"

Quinn smiled. He couldn't help himself. "It's nice, being with everyone like this again," he replied. "I missed it." He did. Sure, there were hard times, and more than his fair share of bad memories, but there were good memories as well. And the feeling of closeness to everyone.

Quinn's smile disappeared. "But anyway, I've been meaning to ask, what's the deal with this 'Graf' guy we're going to meet? Is he Hessen's king?"

Isaac adjusted his glasses. "Not exactly. You see, when Mother Agnes declared Hessen an independent nation, no king was crowned. Rather, the Moot, a council of nobles- 'Grafs,' in the native language- was assembled to rule the nation. In theory, all nobles with a seat on the Moot are equal, but some wield much more influence than others. The man we're going to meet, Alibert of House Berwick, the Graf of Corburg, is the wealthiest, and most influential of them all."

Quinn never had much of a mind for politics, but he understood enough to know that the Graf siding with Kherson would be bad for both Bannon and the rest of Hessen. But… "Why would the Graf want to help Kherson?"

"Why indeed," Isaac replied in a low voice. "Since Hessen's founding, House Berwick has been one of Bannon's strongest allies. What could the Imperium have offered for Alibert to betray our trust this way?" He was silent, before answering his own question: "I suppose we will find out soon enough."

Dawn came, and the vanguard struck camp and set out. They were surrounded on all sides by endless flat plains with not a single structure in sight. But soon, something began to rise on the road ahead, growing larger as they advanced. Until, finally, they arrived at Alibert's manor.

Quinn had seen the manor houses of the nobles in Tristain, but this house easily dwarfed them all. It was practically a castle in its own right. It even had its own wall and towers surrounding it.

Lindow let out an impressed whistle. "Now ain't that a sight? I've heard the stories, but-"

"Don't forget our purpose here," Ingrid said, cutting off the thief.

The vanguard approached the gate. As they did a guard shouted to them, "Halt! The Graf isn't taking visitors today! Return to where you came from!"

Uther dismounted. "Soldiers of Hessen, I am Uther, king of Bannon," he called in reply. "I apologize for not announcing my visit in advance, but I must speak urgently with the Graf."

The guards looked at one another. After one came down to inspect Uther's signet ring, verifying it was real, the guard replied. "Very well. We will allow you, and three members of your entourage to pass. But the rest will have to wait out here."

"Of course." Uther looked back. "Fiona, Miss Inquisitor, Quinn, you're with me. The rest of you are on standby, but keep your guard up. Gwin, you're in command until we return."

Gwin saluted. "Understood, Boss."

The gates were opened, and the guard led Uther and his chosen entourage around the manor house, to a garden in the back. It was much more colorful than the gardens in the Abbey, filled with flowers of every imaginable hue. And near the center, examining the blue flowers growing on a large shrub, a man stood. He was a rather hefty man with a red mustache, wearing flowing robes of blue and gold, but what stood out to Quinn was the large bald spot on top of his head. To Quinn, he resembled a much shorter, much portlier version of Foreman. Resemblance aside, something felt… off about the man, and his hand hovered just above the axe on his belt.

The guard stopped, as did Quinn and the others. "My Lord Graf, you have guests."

The portly man turned. "I told you I was not to receive-" But Alibert cut himself off upon laying eyes on Uther. "Ah, Your Majesty. What a… welcome surprise. I do wish you would've sent word- I'm… not exactly in a position to be entertaining guests at the moment."

"Oh, that's quite alright," Uther replied. "We don't intend to stay long." There was a hardness in the captain's voice, much as he tried to hide it.

Alibert noticed, and tensed up. "Really? I imagine your new responsibilities as king keep you very busy. Much too busy to drop by an old friend's just for a chat."

Uther smiled, but it was not a friendly smile. "You know, that's what I always liked about you, Alibert. You don't waste time with idle pleasantries. So…" Uther's eyes narrowed. "How fares Emperor Reman?"

Alibert blinked in surprise. He tried to hide it, but even Quinn could see his mounting apprehension. "I'm… afraid I don't know what you mean."

"I understand the roads can be quite dangerous these days," Uther continued. "It's quite a feat for a courier to travel all the way from Mozyr to Corburg without incident. A skill that Bannon's own agents would benefit from, I'm sure."

Alibert paled. He said nothing, simply putting his fingers in his mouth and letting out a shrill whistle.

At once, figures clad in black emerged, leaping down from the roof of the manor house, from windows, from trees and shrubs in the garden, about ten in all. It had been over a year, but Quinn recognized their outfits with ease. They wore the same clothes that the assassins who killed Oswald wore. The same outfit Lindow wore.

Alibert was unsurprised, but his guard stumbled back. "What the-"

But he never finished. At that moment, one of the figures in black rushed toward him, and stabbed him with their daggers- one in the throat, and the other in the side of his head. He didn't even have a chance to raise his spear. And as he fell, the assassin looked to Uther's entourage with dead, empty eyes.

"As I suspected," Ingrid said, drawing her blade. "Company assassins."

"Wait, you knew who these guys were!?" Quinn asked in shock, drawing his own weapon.

"You made a mistake coming here, Uther," Alibert said icily. "I don't know how you found out about my dealings, but that secret will die here. Along with you and your entourage."

Uther didn't respond. Gripping the reins he spurred his horse and charged toward Alibert, spear drawn back. But the assassin who just killed the guard darted between Uther and the Graf, and caught the captain's lance with his daggers. His body trembled from exertion, but his expression was placid and emotionless as he held the captain at bay. Uther wrenched himself free and pulled back, and shouted at Alibert, "You won't escape us!"

Alibert calmly turned his back to Uther. "I'm afraid that's where you're wrong, Uther. But please, by all means. Try to stop me."

The assassins closed in, surrounding them. They took advantage of their superior numbers, attacking each member of the group in pairs. Fiona forced her way through the ring of assassins; Uther stood his ground, thrusting his lance at the assassins attacking him, but they nimbly avoided his strikes. Ingrid, however showed no such difficulty cutting down her foes, felling one, and then the second with a single swing of her sword, as if she knew exactly what they were going to do. Which, from her comment earlier, she likely did.

But Quinn… Quinn charged directly towards Alibert. There was a flash, and without missing a beat, he turned around and slashed at an assassin chasing after him, his axe tearing their stomach open. The assassin didn't cry out, didn't flinch, didn't show any emotion at all, other than to make one last feeble swing with his dagger, before collapsing.

Quinn turned, but all at once, the ground shook, and he stumbled as a deafening roar filled his ears. He looked up, to see a massive beast with black scales had put itself between him and Alibert. A dragon? he thought. But no. There was only one dragon in Aurea, and she was all the way back in Bannon.

After a moment, Quinn recognized the beast from his studies: a wyvern. It wasn't a dragon, but it was no less dangerous. But, he was surprised. Wyverns were supposed to be native to Kherson. How in the world did-

The wyvern roared again, but suddenly stopped. It was then that Quinn realized that there was someone riding on the wyvern's back. A girl, with pink hair pulled into short pigtails, an axe in one hand, and reins in the other. She wore the same outfit, and had the same dead eyes as the other assassins. Quinn readied his axe, but the wyvern remained motionless, as its rider… sniffed the air. Then all of a sudden, her attention turned to Quinn. She leapt out of her saddle, still sniffing, making a direct path to Quinn. He began backing away. "You stay back!"

But the pink-haired girl didn't stop. She slipped in-between his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist, and buried her face into his chest. She… inhaled, deeply. Quinn could only stare down at her, too stunned to strike at her, or push her away, or do… anything, really. The girl inhaled again, and in a muffled voice, said, "You smell like soil." She then looked up at him, a gleam in her eye, and an… odd smile on her face. "I love you."

"Eugh- wha?" was all Quinn managed to stammer in response.

Then all at once, the girl pushed Quinn aside. She darted toward an assassin that had been creeping up behind him, and without a moment of hesitation, swung her axe at them. The blade buried itself in the assassin's chest. The girl wrenched the axe free, and struck again, splitting her comrade's skull.

The pink-haired girl regarded the body of her former comrade for a moment, before saying, "…My name is Anya." She looked back to him, splattered with blood, a smile on her face. "Just say the word, darling, and your enemies become mine." She hurried back to her wyvern, mounting it, and returned to Quinn's side.

Quinn looked around. The others had some new scratches, but otherwise seemed alright. The assassins aside from Anya were all dead. The only person left was Alibert himself. "Damned Company…" he spat. "Just as useless now as you were back then."

Uther rode up, pointing his spear at the Graf. "Give it up, Alibert! There's nowhere for you to run!" Quinn and the others hurried to his side, weapons ready.

Alibert regarded the group… and then smiled. "Oh, I've no intention of running," he replied. "In fact…" He raised his hand, a ring on his finger shining brilliantly. "You're right where I want you!"

Alibert thrust out his hand. All at once, weapons made of shining, glittering crystal appeared in the air, and flew toward the group. Everyone scattered. Quinn dived to the side, but he wasn't fast enough- a burning spread through his arm as a halberd left a deep gash in his bicep.

The crystalline weapons returned to the Graf in an instant, floating in a circle around him- swords, spears, axes… there must have been a dozen at least.

"Darling!" Anya screamed. She flew her wyvern directly towards Alibert- it reared back, snapping its jaws at him, but with a deftness that should have been impossible for a man his size, he leapt back. He held out his hand, a warhammer materializing in his grip. He swung with all his might, striking the wyvern's jaw, and sending it soaring back. Undaunted, Anya leapt from her saddle and charged, swinging her axe wildly.

But with inhuman speed, Alibert summoned a sword, and blocked the assassin's strike. "I hired you," he said coldly, "I brought you into my home, I gave you my trust… and this is how you repay me?" He darted back, calling the warhammer back to his hands, and swung at Anya. His swing hit its mark, sending Anya flying. "Pathetic."

Anya slid across the ground, coming to a stop near Quinn. She stood, her right arm flopping around limply. Undaunted, she simply grabbed her axe in her left hand, and prepared to charge.

But Quinn rushed forward, and grabbed her. "Wait, hang on!" he shouted. "You're just gonna get yourself killed!"

"Those weapons…" Ingrid said, her mouth falling open in shock. "That's… Armiger."

Uther looked to her. "The Ring of Mosk?" He looked back to Alibert, glaring. "So, that was Reman's bribe? Good to know your loyalties aren't bought cheaply."

Quinn recognized that name. Armiger. The very first Ring of Power ever discovered. It allowed its wielder to summon an arsenal of weapons, and granted mastery in their use. It once belonged to the Imperium of Mosk, until the nation was conquered by Kherson, and its Ring seized.

With a wave of his hand, the ring of weapons surrounding Alibert vanished. "The power of kings, paid for with the blood of a king. A fair trade, wouldn't you say?"

Uther charged, thrusting his lance; but Alibert summoned an enormous square shield to his hand, and blocked the blow. "Why? Why side with Kherson?" the captain bellowed.

Alibert extended his free hand- an axe appeared in his grasp, and he slashed upwards with it, breaking Uther's spear. His horse reared back, and the captain was thrown from his saddle.

"Because they gave me what Bannon couldn't," Alibert said. "The power to end the petty squabbles that have divided this nation for far too long. The power to grant Hessen its rightful place among the Great Powers of Aurea. To grant its people the rightful king they deserve."

Rising to his feet, Uther cast aside his broken lance, and drew the sword hanging at his belt. "Don't lie! You didn't do this for Hessen's people! You did this to sate your own selfish desires! If you were even half the king you pretend to be, you would know that you've doomed yourself and your nation!"

Alibert spread his arms wide. In response, the crystalline weapons appeared, their blades aimed at Uther. "Oh Uther, I don't need to pretend," he replied, a confident smile on his face. "I have wealth, influence… I'm already a king in all but name. And now that I have Armiger…"

But the Graf's words trailed off as Quinn stepped forward. "Quinn, wait!" Uther said, as Quinn passed. But Quinn ignored him. He stopped, just a few steps before the Graf, his gaze lowered. "How many?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?" Alibert asked, confused.

Quinn clenched his fists. "Do you have… any idea how many people died in the last war? And for what?"

Alibert crossed his arms with a dour expression. "A king must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good. A lesson I don't expect a boy to understand."

"You're right. I don't understand. But I do know one thing." Quinn tossed his axe away. "You're no king. And you never will be." Norn glowed. Black scales erupted from beneath his skin, covering Quinn's arm, twisting it into a black talon. He glared at Alibert. "Because you're going to die today."

The ground beneath Quinn's feet buckled as he launched himself at the Graf, pulling back his arm for a deadly swipe. Alibert summoned a shield to his hands, and blocked the blow… but Quinn's claw left deep gouges in the shield, and it rapidly disintegrated in his grasp. Despite his weight, Alibert nimbly leapt back, a bow forming in his hands. He fired- the bow struck its mark, tearing away at the scales on his arm, but Quinn ignored the pain and charged. He swung, but with an unnatural deftness, the Graf evaded, before countering with a summoned lance. A flash. Quinn deflected the blow, before swiping his claw at the weapon, shattering it. Alibert leapt back, and thrust out his hand.

Another flash. Quinn ducked, evading the greatsword Alibert threw at him, and closed in. The Graf raised his arm, summoning a wall of weapons between him and Quinn. But with a single swing, the weapons shattered, as though they were made of glass. Before they could reform, Quinn grabbed the Graf's arm, and pulled, tearing his arm from his shoulder. The crystalline shards that had been Alibert's weapons vanished all at once, and he let out an agonized scream. But he was silenced when Quinn grabbed his head, and lifted him off the ground. The Graf struggled, but Quinn's grip was inescapable.

"W-W-Wait!" he stammered. "You don't have to kill me! I can give you anything you want! Money? Land? It's yours! Just name your price!"

"Really? Anything?" Quinn asked. "You can bring back Prince Merdraut? King Oswald? All the people who died in the war? You can do that?"

"Th-That's-" Alibert stammered.

But Quinn was done listening. His grip tightened. There was a loud crunch, and the Graf's struggling ceased. With a breath, he tossed the body aside. The scales on his arm retracted, and he stood in silence for a few moments. Then, Quinn said, "I'm sorry, Captain."

Uther blinked. "Quinn?"

"I know… I shouldn't have killed Alibert. We should have detained him so he could stand trial. But, I…" He trailed off. There was nothing left to say. Alibert was dead. But it didn't change anything. Everyone who'd died in the war were still dead. Quinn didn't feel proud. He didn't feel like he'd avenged anyone. He just felt… empty.

More silence. When it was finally broken, it was not Uther who spoke, but Ingrid: "That man possessed a Ring of Power, and posed a danger to everyone here. You acted to protect the lives of your comrades. You don't need to apologize for that."

Quinn sighed. Then, he felt something wrap around his arm. He looked down. It was the assassin girl, Anya. She was looking up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Darling, that was incredible," she said, as if in a daze. "And you look so wonderful covered in the blood of your enemies."

Then all at once, there was an explosion on the other side of the manor. Moments later, the rest of the vanguard came careening around the side of the house. "Majesty!" Elizabeth shouted.

"Boss!" Gwin called. "All these guys in black showed up out of nowhere and killed all the guards! Then they came after us! What happened?"

Uther looked back to Alibert's body. He replied, in a somber voice, "Alibert… betrayed us. It seems he was the one who ordered Oswald's death. And he was willing to kill us all to keep that secret."

"And so the truth is revealed," a voice said. A man suddenly appeared, clad in black. It was the man from the Abbey. Valerian.

"You again…" Ingrid said, resting a hand on her sword.

"I told you. I'd be watching." Valerian approached Alibert's body, and removed Armiger from his finger. "You heard him for yourself, saw the boon granted by Emperor Reman. But if all that still isn't enough…" He reached into his coat, and retrieved the letter, giving the rolled-up parchment to Uther.

Uther unrolled the letter, and he began to read it:

"Graf Alibert,

It is unfortunate your assassins were unable to neutralize Mother Agnes. However, the death of King Oswald will doubtlessly prove a tremendous blow to Bannon's morale. I must also commend your brilliance in falsifying a report of Burgundian troops advancing toward Hessen's southern border. Open war would greatly weaken both Bannon and Burgundy, placing the Imperium in a dominant position. For your assistance in advancing Imperial interests, I gift you the Ring of Power formerly belonging to Mosk, Armiger. I imagine you will put it to good use in rallying the nobles of Hessen under your banner."

A long silence hung over the group. "…Well?" Fiona finally asked. "Is it real?"

"…It is," Uther answered, and turned the letter around. Near the bottom, a symbol of some sort was pressed into a circle of red wax. "This is Emperor Reman's personal seal."

Valerian looked to Uther sternly. "Now, your majesty…" he said, "I believe we had an agreement."

A long silence settled over the group. It took a long time before Uther replied. "…you ask us to march to our deaths, then. Bannon cannot possibly hope to fight Kherson on its own. But, we have no allies to turn to. Burgundy is in no shape for war, and other Grafs in Hessen may be compromised."

Valerian crossed his arms over his chest. "Be that as it may, Kherson poses a threat not just to Bannon, but all nations in Aurea. If you can sway them, you'll have no shortage of allies. Surely, you can name at least one nation willing to aid you."

There was another silence, much shorter than the first. "The Confederation of Ulrich…" Uther muttered. "Oswald was negotiating an alliance with their leader, the Duke of Livonia, before his assassination. It has been some time, but he may still be willing to take up the offer."

"Doria has typically been neutral in international affairs, but if Kherson is preparing another expansion, it's possible we may be able to secure their support," Isaac added.

All eyes slowly turned to Juno. She quickly noticed. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"You're the only native Doric we know," Isaac replied. "Any insight you could provide into negotiating an alliance with them would be greatly appreciated."

Juno sighed. But after a moment, replied, "Doria isn't a unified country. It's made of a bunch of independent cities. But, only two of them really matter: Tharros and Coea. If we can convince both of them to help you, the other cities should fall in line behind them."

"If we can secure the cooperation of the Vanderijck Trade Guild as well, things will be much easier for us," Ingrid added.

Yonah perked up. "Oh, I can go to Vanderijck!" she said. "My family is friends with the Guild's Director. She'll listen to me. And Espada is from Navarro. He might know how to talk to them."

An answer came, not from Espada, but from Ingrid: "Navarro aiding us isn't likely, Master Yonah. Ever since Gaspar's Revolt, Navarro has been strongly opposed to the Order and its allies."

The masked swordsman looked to Ingrid. "That's true," he replied in a raspy voice. "But if Kherson is threatening to invade, I'm sure the clans would agree to at least a temporary alliance."

"It seems you have no shortage of options," Valerian said. "Where you go from here is up to you. But from this time forward, I'll follow your lead."

"You're coming with us?" Quinn asked.

Valerian nodded. "Of course. I fully reviewed the Imperium's archives, so I can assist in both negotiating with other nations, and in countering the Imperium's tactics. That aside, the exploits of your vanguard are well known even in Kherson. It would be remiss of me to pass up the opportunity to bear witness to your skills."

Again, silence fell. But eventually, Quinn stepped forward. "Well… I think we'd all be glad to have your help," he said, and extended his hand.

Valerian took Quinn's hand, and shook it. "You're… Quinn, yes? The Order's newest Archon?"

"Second newest," Quinn replied. "Though our newest is still in training. Why?"

Valerian looked down at Quinn. "The Emperor himself expressed interest in you. Though I must say, you're much… plainer than the intelligence reports led me to believe."

"Umm…" Quinn… wasn't quite sure how to respond to that comment.

Ingrid cleared her throat. "Putting that aside… we have things we need to see to."

"Agreed," Uther replied. "We'll need to return to Bannon and share this news with Parliament. Not to mention we need to make preparations, and choose our first destination. But first, we need to secure the area." He looked to the rest of the vanguard. "We'll split into two teams. One will check the perimeter of the estate, while the other sweeps the inside of the manor. Don't hesitate to engage…"

As Uther gave orders, Lindow approached Quinn, eyeing Anya warily. "Hey kid, I don't mean to worry you, but you've got a…"

"I know," he replied.

Julius took notice, and adjusted his glasses. "I believe I said this before, Quinn, but you have an uncanny ability to draw the most unusual characters to yourself…"

Night had fallen. The vanguard chose to use Alibert's estate as a base for the night, but kept to the grounds outside- the manor house, they discovered, was filled with the corpses of servants, cut down to the last man. After assessing their wounds, Julius concluded they had been slain by the assassins- and Anya confirmed that the Graf's whistle had been a signal, instructing the assassins to kill everyone in the immediate area other than himself, regardless of allegiance. It seemed Alibert was willing to do whatever was necessary not only to secure his power, but to ensure that there would be no witnesses to his misdeeds.

Lindow sat by the fire, sharpening his blades with a whetstone. He quickly noticed a strange presence. One that he was quickly becoming familiar with. Sure enough, when he looked up, Ingrid was nearby, watching him.

"Miss Inquisitor," he said cheerfully. "What brings you around?"

But Ingrid didn't reply. She approached Lindow and looked down at him.

The thief looked up at the inquisitor in turn. "Um…"

Then, Ingrid reached out, brushing her hand against Lindow's face.

Lindow quickly pushed her hand aside and shot up to his feet, backing away. "Ah- Hey, hands off!"

"I knew it," Ingrid finally said.

Lindow narrowed his eyes. "Oh? Care to share your revelation with the rest of the class?"

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest. "You can drop the act now, Erik."

Lindow jolted, mouth agape for a moment… before masking his shock. "…Figures you would've seen through me. You were the best of our class, after her."

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Who's your target? Or is this an internal affairs matter?" As she spoke, her hand moved to the hilt of her sword.

"Would you believe me if I chose option C: none of the above?" Lindow asked in reply.

Ingrid narrowed her eyes at the thief, saying nothing.

Lindow sighed, and sat down. "Look, I've been trying to find a way out of the Company for years now. Saw my chance, and I took it. Same as you."

Ingrid narrowed her eyes further. "Don't compare us. We're nothing alike."

Lindow looked up at ingrid. "That isn't true. And you know it."

Ingrid gritted her teeth, and asked, "Were you planning to tell Quinn about any of this?"

"Were you?" Lindow asked in return.

Ingrid didn't answer.

"You know, it's funny," the thief said. "You jump on my back all the time about being untrustworthy, when you're hiding the exact same thing from the kid as me."

"It's for his own good," Ingrid snapped.

Lindow turned his attention back to sharpening his knives. "Yeah. The handlers used to say that too, didn't they?"

Ingrid opened her mouth… but shut it again. She turned on her heel and stalked away, before she did something she would regret.

Lindow watched Ingrid leave in silence, and sighed. "Well… it's not like I have much of a high ground to stand on."

Far from the camp, Ingrid leaned against the wall of the manor house, taking deep breaths. Her anger soon subsided, and her heart slowed to a steady pace. As much as she didn't like to think about her days in the Company, she wouldn't deny that they had taught her many useful skills, not all of them related to combat.

But her heart rate jumped back up when she heard Quinn call out, "Miss Ingrid!" Footsteps approached. "Here you are. What are you doing over here by yourself?"

She turned to face him, but said nothing.

Upon seeing her expression, Quinn took a wary step back. "Uh… is now a bad time?"

The inquisitor shook her head, trying to return to a neutral emotion. "It's nothing. What did you need?"

Quinn was still visibly wary, but asked, "You… weren't always a member of the Order, right?"

Ingrid nodded. "That's right."

"What was your life like before that? Before you joined the Order?"

Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest. "You remember what I said about personal questions, right?"

Quinn scratched his head nervously. "Yeah, I know. But, it feels like you know everything about me. When we first met in Grimhold, that was my whole life. Wake up, work the mines, go to sleep. I mean, I didn't always dig- when I was younger, Foreman had me pushing carts of ore. And before that, I worked the vents that brought fresh air into the mine." Quinn lowered his gaze. "I've been doing some thinking, and I just realized that for all the time we've known each other… I barely know anything about you. I wanted… I thought… I just…" He trailed off, unsure how to continue.

Ingrid was quiet. After several seconds, she asked, "Are you sure you want to know?"

Quinn nodded. "I am."

"You're absolutely certain?" she asked.

Quinn gave Ingrid a look. "Come on Miss Ingrid, how bad could it be?"

Ingrid… turned her back to Quinn. "…I used to be an assassin."

Quinn felt the blood drain out of him. "…what?"

"I was a member of a group of assassins here in Hessen, known as 'the Company.'"

Quinn didn't say anything. What could he say to something like that?

Ingrid continued: "On the surface, Hessen appears peaceful, but in truth, the nobles compete fiercely for influence. They'll use any means to gain an upper hand. Nothing is beneath them, not even murder. So, the Company was born, to fulfill their needs."

Quinn finally found his voice again. "…why?"

"Because most lack the skills the Company offers," Ingrid replied, matter-of-factly.

Quinn shook his head. "No, why… why did you join something like that? How could you?" He tried to circle around her, to look at her face-to-face, but she turned, keeping her back to him.

"Nobody chooses to join the Company, Quinn," she replied.

Quinn's anger abated. There was something in Ingrid's tone, something he'd never heard before. "What do you mean?"

She dropped her gaze. "I was… an orphan. The Company took me in; me, and others like me. We were raised to be living weapons. Taught that our contract was the only thing that mattered, and that we were expected to fulfill it at any cost, even our own lives. Broken down, and reshaped into something… less than human."

Ingrid… shuddered. She turned slightly, but wouldn't look at Quinn. "I'm sorry, Quinn. I… don't think I can talk about this anymore right now."

Ingrid walked away without another word. Quinn didn't follow. He was too stunned by what he saw.

On the spot where Ingrid had been standing, the ground was wet with tears.

In another part of the camp, Gwin was busy washing dishes. It was one of his responsibilities as the camp cook, though he didn't mind it- most of the time, the plates and bowls were practically sparkling clean already, so cleanup was easy. Occasionally, Uther would assign someone to assist him, but with just the vanguard, the workload was small enough to handle on his own.

Just as he was scrubbing the last few bowls, he heard footsteps approaching from behind, and Fiona say, "Hey, Gwin."

Gwin glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, his sister was there, looking down at him. "Hey Fiona. I hope you weren't still hungry. I just finished cleaning everything up."

She circled around to his front, and knelt down. "No, I just wanted to see what you were up to."

"Oh. I see," Gwin replied. He knew that wasn't true. Even when they were young, his sister had never been one for idle banter. If she was here, it was because she had something to say.

And sure enough, Fiona eventually said, "You know, Gwin, I've been doing some thinking."

"About what?" he asked.

"Well, you know how you've never been able to beat me in a fight, right?" she asked in return.

Gwin shook his head, as memories of painful defeats filled his mind. "Don't remind me."

"I've been thinking," Fiona continued, "and I thought, maybe we should try something different. Something less… physical."

"Like what? A cooking contest?" Gwin asked.

"Actually," she said abruptly, "that's exactly what I was thinking."

"Seriously?" Gwin looked up. "I mean, I am confident with what Dad taught me, but…" He trailed off. No. This… could actually have been the break he needed. If nothing else, he should at least hear Fiona out. "…What did you have in mind?"

"Simple:" she replied, "we both gather up ingredients and prepare breakfast tomorrow. We'll let the others decide who the better cook is."

Gwin was quiet. It was simple. Almost… too simple. But excitement welled up in him. "Yeah… yeah! I can't believe I never thought of this before! Maybe I can't beat you in martial arts, but culinary arts, now that's a whole other story." Gwin quickly got to his feet. "Did you have something in mind already? If you did, I can let you borrow my cooking utensils. Just let me know so I can give you what you need…"

Dawn came. Gwin had spent all night preparing his ultimate dish- a mixed meat-and-vegetable stew. Perhaps not the most exquisite meal, but he was quite proud of it all the same. It sat on a table next to Fiona's dish: a platter stacked with stuffed rolls. From a good distance away, Fiona and Gwin watched the table.

"Are you sure we have to keep our distance?" Fiona asked.

"We want to make sure everyone's impartial," Gwin replied. "If they knew who cooked which dish, it might affect their choice." He noticed someone approaching. "Someone's coming."

The brother and sister watched as Quinn approached the table. "Huh. Gwin isn't serving breakfast today?" he asked, before noticing a sign placed on the table. "'Choose.'" He looked at the pot, then the platter. He leaned over, sniffing each in turn, before grabbing a bowl and dipping it into the pot. Gwin grinned, before Quinn grabbed a roll and wandered off.

The two looked at one another. Gwin quickly said, "Uh, that one doesn't count."

In time, other members of the vanguard came. And in every instance, they grabbed one of Fiona's rolls. Even from their distance, they could hear the others praise the rolls- the tenderness of the meat, the softness of the bread… At first, Fiona had been pleasantly surprised by how popular her recipe had been. But her surprise turned quickly to dismay at seeing Gwin's rapidly falling expression.

Eventually, the last member of the vanguard had come and gone. Fiona's platter was empty. Gwin's pot was almost completely untouched.

Fiona looked up at her brother, mind racing as she tried to think of something to say. "Gwin, I… this- this wasn't-"

But Gwin shook his head. "No, it's fine," he replied. "I'm not angry."

That was true- his tone wasn't angry. Rather, he sounded utterly defeated. Which Fiona found more hurtful than his anger ever could have been. "Gwin…" she said.

"We should… just focus on cleaning up," Gwin continued. "We have to head out soon." He walked slowly to the table, and began cleaning up in silence.

Graf Alibert of Bernitz: A character made to be an ally turned traitor. The closest archetype would be the Jiol, as a nobleman seeking to expand his own power. His appearance was largely taken from Oscar of the Tellius series of Fire Emblem games, and if he were to have a voice actor, it would ideally be Richard Epcar.
The Ring of Power wielded by Alibert, Armiger, is named after the ability of the same name from Final Fantasy XV. Armiger's status as the first Ring of Power discovered in the history of the story references how Armiger was the first Ring of Power created after the story's revision (As a sidenote, the Rings of Power were also inspired by the Ring of the Lucii from the same game, though no Ring shares its specific powerset).

Anya: Anya was inspired by a number of different characters. Her appearance was inspired by Presea from Tales of Symphonia, her class as a wyvern rider and role as an assassin were taken from Beruka of Fates, and her bloodlust from Peri of Fates. She would also be the character to inherit Zara's stalker tendencies, making her something of a Tharja expy as well. If she were to have a voice actor, it would ideally be Wendee Lee.