The farther into Fhirdiad the duo went, the more disgusted Ashton in particular became.

Ashton saw gallows with young men hanging from frayed ropes, gently swaying in the warm breeze. Across the street,a brigade of hooded men make their way into a house, while screaming could be heard from within. At the mouth of a nearby alley,a fist fight between two people, one man and one woman, for a loaf of bread. He stopped looking when he saw the woman bite the man.

The closer they got to the castle, at least, the easier it got; the buildings became more dense, but they had either long been evacuated, or the screams were far in the distance.

"Savages," Roland muttered. "Brutal savages. I had heard of the horrors going on in this city, but to see it firsthand…"

"So much for a 'Free Kingdom', eh?" Ashton replied, trying not to let his voice crack.

"What a free kingdom it is," Roland sighed, before narrowing his eyes. "It feels more like a fallen kingdom. This was one of the northernmost city states – perhaps it was not the nicest place to live beforehand, but only the Eternal Flame can compare to this place now."

"For the natives, yeah," Ashton agreed, "but there's nothing we can do for these people now. Not on our own."

Roland looked down as they stopped in their tracks, just within sight of what looked like the castle gates. "I know, Ashton. But still, do you feel nothing? Nothing for these people? Nothing for what they are going through?"

Ashton resisted the urge to lunge forward and grab the nobleman by his breastplate. He was able to, but he still took a step forward preemptively.

"Of course I do," Ashton hissed, pressing his hand against a cold stone wall to steady himself. "Was it because of what I just said? Did it sound bad? Probably. God- look. Just because I'm being pragmatic doesn't mean that I don't wanna help these people. I want to! But we can't. We're only two people, Roland. Two people against an entire city full of berserkers, and whoever that guy was back in the battle who turned your men into mincemeat."

"An Elite," Roland replied airily, "he was an Elite. By the Goddess."

"You told me about them earlier,but with the way you're talking about it now, it only reinforces my point. We stand no chance. Our only hope is to get your Saint out of that castle. Especially now that we're in the city. Don't quit on me now."

"I won't," Roland said resolutely, "The stakes are too high. I need to finish this, for my father and for my entire bloodline. Saint Cethleann will be carried to safety."

"That's a good man," Ashton said, patting him on the shoulder.

Now, if only I had someone to give me a pep talk.

Roland didn't seem the kind for it, at least, not at that moment. It was something Ashton would have to rely on himself for.

When they reached the gates, leaving most of the hell that was Fhirdiad behind them, Ashton's eyes widened in surprise.

Just… one person?

No doubt, there were more either within the castle itself or maybe even inside the walls. However, all Ashton could see was one person, tapping his foot against the ground with his arms crossed, and an axe strapped across his back.

Roland leaned over to Ashton, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do not underestimate these barbarians."

"But one man?" Ashton asked. "Only one? To guard such an important area? I knew there probably wouldn't be many people here – they would be elsewhere, washing the gore off their weapons. But only one person's here. This is…"

"Perhaps this is not where they are keeping Saint Cethleann, then." Roland's tone sounded tired and shredded from the cold winds."Perhaps she is being held in some dingy basement somewhere."

"If she is, then this little infiltration mission was doomed from the start," Ashton said, "we'll keep going no matter how unlikely it seems."

Roland shrugged. "It is better than searching every basement for her, I agree. At worst, we can find the escape route and leave."

Ashton's jaw clenched. "I am not leaving empty-handed."

Roland raised a brow.

Waving a hand, Ashton continued, "Circle around him while I talk to him, and bash him over the head while we're talking. Don't wait for a signal; just do it when you think he's completely distracted."

"I will try," Roland said.

Ashton nodded and waited for Roland to take his position. After a few more moments, he approached the gate guard. The gate itself looked worse for wear; the stonework had taken a hit, possibly from catapults or magic, and several walls looked to be on the verge of crumbling. It was too late to pull out, however. They were in it for the long term, so to speak.

"Stop," the man said, holding out his hand. "What is your business here?"

"None of your business," Ashton said, moving in close.

"No, friend, it is my business," the guard growled, hand on his axe's handle. "If anyone should know people's business around here, it's me."

"And who said you should know my business?"

"Maurice, of the Ten Elites!" the guard boasted, "he stationed me here himself! To guard this entrance!"

"Just you?" Ashton said, raising a brow as he tried not to stare at Roland slowly moving across the side. "You're all that's here?"

"Uh huh!" the man hummed, thumbing his chest as he let out a laugh. "Hand-picked, can you believe it?"

"I don't understand how that means you can know my business." Ashton crossed his arms.

The guard did a double take. "Y-you realize who you're talking to!? Whose authority I'm representing here?"

"All I know is that you still haven't given me a reason as to why I should state my business."

"You must have rocks in your head!" the man snarled, pointing a finger into Ashton's chest. "And you speak like a thrice-damned crow! Repeating that word, over and over! Business, business, business! I know that I am going to throw your business out of here if you continue to act-!"

A loud 'clang' resounded through the air as the guard went slack jawed. His eyes rolled up as he fell forward in a heap. Ashton blinked once before shaking his head.

"Is he dead?" Roland asked. "I hit him where I thought it would, but I-!"

"It doesn't matter; he's out of the picture," Ashton trudged forward without glancing down at the body of the guard. "He said he was the only one guarding this entrance, at least, and we still have a whole castle to search."

"Try the tallest tower first," Roland suggested, "if she is being held anywhere, it is likely there."

Ashton nodded. "Tower it is, then."

As Ashton and Roland made their way through the halls, the former could feel his heartbeat in his ears. Something wasn't right. Not only did it feel like they were being watched, but there were no other guards. The name the guard had said kept repeating in his head.

Maurice…

"Roland," Ashton said as they rounded another corner. "Something's not right."

"You feel it, too?" Roland asked, "yes, that uneasiness. No guardsmen, no one patrolling the halls… this is a trap."

"Go to the dungeons instead?" Ashton said, "maybe they threw her down there. This… I don't know. That 'Maurice' the guard was talking about. He's one of the Elites, right?"

"Yes. Is that the one who-?"

"I'd guess so, considering the guard named him," Ashton replied, "we'll go to the dungeons first. Wherever that is. I just wanna make sure we cover our bases before we go and trap ourselves."

Roland thought for a moment before nodding, the light from the nearby window barely illuminating his armor. "I will follow your lead, for now."

Ashton felt better once he'd gone with his gut extinct. Still, some part of him still felt like they were being watched.

Maurice.

The further they went into the castle; the further Ashton's mind began to darken.

Thoughts of the grisly death ahead, the sound of clanking armor and swords, the look of the man he'd beaten to death – it all came flooding back as they descended. Ashton supposed he couldn't hold it off forever, but he thought he'd be able to survive the rest of the day without it all threatening to spill out.

Ashton was just able to hold it back, just able to keep himself from clawing his way back up the stairs, past the flaming torches and out into Fhirdiad itself, where he no doubt would meet his end – but it would be in daylight. It was a screeching, animalistic thing that was not easily suppressed.

"Are you alright?"

Ashton nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd almost forgotten Roland was right behind him.

"Yeah," Ashton mumbled, "for now."

Roland was silent against after that, but Ashton could feel his eyes boring into the back of his head.

I can't keep this up forever.

Ashton was slowly falling apart at the seams, and yet he pressed on.

Soon, they reached the dungeons proper. They didn't smell as bad as Ashton was expecting, which was basically damning it with faint praise. The hallways could be charitably described as 'dreary'. Ashton had a few more choice words for it, but none of them were polite. Wall sconces lined the walls, draping the long hallway in an eerie glow that made Ashton's hair stand on end.

That same feeling of being watched that made him change course from the tower still hung at the back of his head, a constant reminder that something about it all was wrong.

They traveled down the hallway for a minute before Ashton was proven right, and he thanked any god that was listening that he trusted his gut.

When they stumbled upon Saint Cethleann, however, he was taken aback. He had expected a bloodied and beaten woman, barely recovering from the treatment of her captors. However, what he saw was what looked to be a young girl, perhaps no older than fifteen. Her cell was the only one with light emanating from it, with a single candle on a small wooden table. Beyond that, she wore white and purple robes, and had green hair that reached just to the small of her back. When Ashton and Roland saw her, she was sitting in her bed, her hands clasped together and looking down.

The moment she heard the duo, however, her green gaze shifted to them.

"I have nothing more to say to you," she said, her voice low. For her, it sounded wrong. Unnatural, like she was putting up a front. "If your intentions are not to talk, then I will be forced to-!"

"We're not here to interrogate you," Ashton said, grasping the bars. "We're here to get you out of here."

Cethleann's brows furrowed. She stood up from her bed and lightly moved forward. She couldn't have been more than around five feet tall. Ashton turned to Roland, as if looking for confirmation that they were staring at someone called a 'Saint' and not a small child pretending to be one.

"Then, who are you?" Cethleann asked, softly grasping the bars of her cell. "Now that I look at you, I can see you wear the same garb as the soldiers from before, but beneath it, you wear…"

"My name is Roland von Aegir," Roland said, bowing his head before continuing, "and my friend here is correct; we are here to save you."

"How did you get here?" Cethleann asked, "I have been kept under lock and key from the moment this city was captured. How were you able to make it past the guards?"

"Because there weren't any," Ashton answered, "we were gonna look for you up in that large tower at first but decided to come down here instead when we felt- well, for lack of a better term, when we felt like we were being watched."

Cethleann giggled. "It would be silly to hold me in such a place, yes?"

Ashton shrugged. "We didn't have very many options, really."

"We still do not," Roland said grimly, "we do not even have a way out."

"I know of one," Cethleann stated, stepping away from the bars. "I… admit to using it several times when the council grew too dull and long for my liking. It is in the larder, behind several cabinets. I believe the old lords of this castle intended for it to be used as an escape route. It is a long passage, but it will ensure that we are far away from enemy forces."

"A Saint wants to skimp out on meetings?" Ashton questioned.

Cethleann giggled guiltily. "I cannot give a reason, only that you would have to attend one to understand my plight!"

Ashton rolled his eyes before turning to Roland, eyes wide. "I just realized that we don't have a key."

Roland opened his mouth to respond before shutting it with an audible 'clump'. "Indeed, we do not."

"Some rescuers we are," Ashton mumbled, "I guess there's only one way we're getting through these bars."

Cethleann raised a brow. "What is your plan?"

"Pray that there's still no one around to hear this," Ashton replied, taking several steps back.

A moment later, a loud 'clang' rang through the halls. Cethleann jumped back, wide-eyed and holding her hands to her chest.

"What are you doing!?" she squeaked.

Ashton took a few steps back again, holding his shoulder forward. "Putting all that football practice into good use."

He rammed into the cell door again, this time a shrill shriek following. Ashton pulled back one last time before pushing himself forward with all his strength and weight. The metal cell door broke open, the sound of metal bending ringing throughout the hallway. The door had only bent a little bit, but the rusted hinges broke apart, and the door fell to the floor of Cethleann's cell. Ashton rubbed his shoulder, hissing.

"Never doing that again," he said, "never. That hurt."

"We could have used leverage!" Roland said, exasperatedly, slapping Ashton's shoulder. "We could have done anything else! You did not need to nearly maim yourself to open that door!"

"Yeah? I have a feeling we're running out of time," Ashton said, still rubbing his shoulder. "And we need to move through this castle again to find the larder. Maybe there'll be guards out there that will come down here to investigate whatever noise came from here, which would've happened if we'd used any other way too."

"You can try to explain that foolhardy strategy away all you wish," Roland growled, staring into Ashton's eyes. "And you may very well be right, but do not place so little value on yourself that you willingly harm yourself."

"I was going to be sacrificed on that battlefield," Ashton muttered, "don't talk to me about putting 'value' on myself when nobody did before we got this far."

Roland bit his tongue and looked away. Ashton sighed and turned to Cethleann, eyeing the barred door that had just fallen.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Cethleann nodded lightly, her green eyes wide as she looked up at Ashton.

The journey to the larder was uneventful. Nobody came to impede them – not a single guard or soldier ambushed them, fought them. Nothing. The further they went, the more Ashton began to feel panic settle in his heart. That horrible feeling of being watched never truly went away. Even when they made it to the larder, it only lessened.

"It is just through here," Cethleann stated, moving into the clumsily sorted room. "I am glad to see my, erm-"

"It helped us out, yeah," Ashton said, "but we need to hurry."

"Speak with a finer tongue, Ashton," Roland said, "you are talking to a Saint of the Church of Seiros!"

"I didn't realize you turned into a zealot when I wasn't looking," Ashton snapped back, looking through the small crack in the door. It was a small amount of movement, but enough to be noteworthy. "I'm serious. We need to go. No time for chit-chat."

"Your friend is right, Roland von Aegir," Cethleann acquiesced, bowing her head slightly. "Hold a moment. I will open it."

Ashton tapped his foot as Cethleann steadily moved a cabinet out of the way, revealing an outline in the stone wall. When she pushed against a single stone, the wall opened with the scraping of stone against stone. An echoing, dark cavern yawned before them, looking like the mouth of a giant beast. Ashton swallowed the growing lump in his throat as he took one of the torches in the room off the wall.

"Let's go," he said, "I'll lead the way. You guard her from the back, Roland."

Roland grunted. "So be it."

Ashton couldn't tell how long they were in that tunnel, walking endlessly into the dark passages of the world. He smelled nothing, barely felt anything, could barely see anything. If it wasn't for the footsteps of Cethleann and Roland behind him, he wouldn't even be able to tell if he was even there.

His torch was getting dimmer and dimmer as well. Soon, they would all be trapped in darkness.

Fortunately, after what felt like a century of silence and shadow, a pale light could be seen at the end. Stars, a moon – the sky opened up in front of them. Ashton let out a sigh of relief, finally away from the encroaching shadow that swamped his every step.

They were free, and Ashton had to resist the urge to fall to the floor and kiss the dirt.

"By the Goddess," Roland breathed out, "I thought we would never see the light again."

"You took that way to get away from meetings?" Ashton asked incredulously, "How did you survive!?"

Cethleann shrugged. "It is hard to explain. Most of the time I never made it this far – I simply walked up and down the tunnel, light in hand and taking comfort in its soft glow. It was a relaxing experience, but less so when we are likely being pursued."

Ashton grunted. "That's one way of putting it, I guess. Whatever. It's over now. And now we need to get as far away from Fhirdiad as possible."

"We need to find a safe place to make camp," Roland pointed out, "the sun is down, and there will be all manner of beasts on the prowl."

Blinking, Ashton asked, "What kind of 'beasts'?"

"Giant wolves," Cethleann piped up, as if she was talking about the weather rather than a big monster. "There are sand worms that can grow massive in the deserts far to the north. That is all my father told me of, however."

Ashton's mouth plopped open before closing again. "Anything else? Anything else that can murder us horribly?"

"Doubtless there are many more that can end our lives before we even make it halfway to Enbarr," Roland replied, wiping his breastplate. "Perhaps those terrible vultures-"

"Okay, fine, we'll make camp!" Ashton interrupted, holding his head. "Just, stop talking!"

A hand collided with a table, cracking it in two as a man stepped forward, his nostrils flared, and teeth bared.

"You let them escape!" he said, pointing an accusatory finger at the woman that had once been across from him. "You let them take the Saint and flee! We had her! The city was ours! Its people, ours! And now the greatest prize is stumbling away into the dark!"

The woman went to tap her fingers against the table, but upon remembering that it wasn't there, she settled for her thigh. "Greatest prize? Hardly. We both know your men would not be able to keep their hands off of her for long. And a woman like that, she would've found her way out eventually, or broken out with that other form of hers. We both know what she really was."

The man looked down, turned around, and ran a hand through his brown hair. "She was to be a gift," he said, "a way to entice Nemesis. A bargaining chip. And you ruined that, Lamine."

The woman named Lamine smiled. "Ah, yes, politics. How tiresome. Is this not so much more interesting? No doubt those three will move through the dark, making their way back to the Adrestian Empire's capital, where they will tell of what happened here. War will soon break out, you know, and with so many new players in this game, it is doubtless that it will become far more interesting. Now tell me, Maurice, what would Nemesis cherish more? A chance to crush his enemies, to prove his strength? Or for one of his underlings to bring him one of the last Nabateans on a silver platter?"

Maurice's lips thinned as he tried not to break down the door next. The Crest that flowed through his veins would ensure that more than the door could break.

"Fine, then," Maurice said, "the city is still ours."

"And your mean is running it into the ground," Lamine chastised, "you need to gain better control over them."

"They are men and women of some far-flung tribe; it does not surprise me that they would treat their enemies with such contempt," Maurice admitted, turning around and sitting back down, unable to rest his arms anywhere except on his legs because of the table he destroyed. "But, you are right. We need to spend more time currying the favor of those who are left, not pillaging and raping everything in sight."

"They followed my orders to leave those two fools alone; if you simply exert more control, they will listen to you."

"Indeed? Perhaps they only did so because they feared your magic," Maurice muttered, looking beyond Lamine to the world outside. Being so high up on that tower, looking above the liberated city of Fhirdiad, he felt so disconnected from the earth. "Many do. I don't."

Lamine raised a brow. "Is that a threat, Maurice?"

"Not if you do not want it to be," Maurice replied, standing back up and placing a hand against the side of the opened window. He looked down into Fhirdiad, watching the fires slowly burn out, and over the city walls, the remains of the battle from the previous day. So many bodies, and all for the wyverns and vultures to eat.

"Is it because I commanded your men? Have you already forgotten the advice I have given you? It has been a scant few seconds!" Lamine said, placing a hand against her chest. "And here I sat, thinking you and I were friends. Comrades!"

"Spare me your acting," Maurice replied, "you and I have never been friends, and it is only through Nemesis' recommendation that we work together. You were right before, but do not presume that I will make that same mistake again."

"Hmph," Lamine hummed, standing up and fluffing out her fur-lined robe. "Then I will be gone from this place. Do make sure that it is in proper shape for when the rest of our 'comrades' arrive. I will find a more quiet place to set-up my workshop. Oh, and Maurice, dear?"

Maurice was silent.

"Do be sure that sword of yours is not the end of you," Lamine said, placing a lock of white hair behind her ear. "At times, you fight like such a beast, I can scarcely believe you are human."

When Lamine left, Maurice heard the sound of her closing the door over and over again in his head. It echoed forever.

Blutgang glowed in its scabbard, ready to draw blood again.

The cool night air washed over Ashton like gentle ocean waves, calm and brisk. Under the glow of an alien moon and stars he did not recognize, it wasn't surprising he had a hard time finding sleep. Fortunately, Roland and Cethleann didn't have much luck either. From the light of their hastily crafted fire, he saw Roland occasionally glancing off into the night, as if looking for some invisible attacker, while Cethleann stared into the flames, completely transfixed by it. Ashton tapped a finger against his knee, trying to find a way to start a conversation.

"Cethleann," Ashton finally said, tapping his knee as crickets chirped all around them. "You're a Saint, right?"

"He speaks," Roland commented, "but he repeats what I have already told him."

"I am, yes," Cethleann replied, "A Saint in the Church of Seiros, although at times I feel less like a Saint and more like a common cleric! This position can be quite boring sometimes."

Ashton blinked. "You consider an entire city being sacked and you being held prisoner, 'boring'?"

Cethleann giggled. "That is the most interesting thing that has happened to me so far, I must admit. Although, I would rather that had not happened at all."

"You and me both, milady," Roland said, bowing his head. "My men gave their lives so that we had a chance at getting to you, and who knows what happened to my father and his allies."

Ashton raised his head a bit higher. "They weren't on the battlefield, were they?"

Shaking his head, Roland replied, "Not in person. He was supposed to bring in his troops from either side of the field, but clearly something went wrong – there were no reinforcements, no help from either of his allies. I know not what became of him, and I doubt I will receive an answer until we are in Enbarr."

Ashton looked down. "I'm… sorry to hear that, man."

"I did not want anyone to sacrifice themselves for my sake," Cethleann said, her voice breaking slightly as she rubbed at her eyes. "If I have seemed carefree throughout this journey, please, do not think it is because I do not value the lives of those lost on the battlefield or in defense of Fhirdiad. I am merely…"

"It's how you deal with stress," Ashton said, "I get it. Trust me, I do. I don't know how I haven't fallen apart already after all this."

Roland nodded. "We have not addressed that, have we?"

"I want to know if they'll help me," Ashton murmured, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "I want to go home, Roland."

Cethleann blinked confusedly, looking from Roland to Ashton several times.

"I feel I am lost," she said, "You wish to go home? I am sure transport can be arranged for you when we return to Enbarr. No doubt there are several there who would be grateful for what you have done."

Ashton shook his head. "It's not as simple as getting on a boat and sailing off into the sunset, Cethleann. I'm not from here."

"I can see that you are not from Fódlan," Cethleann said, "but perhaps we can-!"

"I'm not from this world," Ashton stated plainly, "I'm from somewhere completely different from here. Where I come from, we don't use swords or spears, no plate armor, or magic. Machines, logic, that's what we used. Nothing like this. Not anymore."

Cethleann leaned forward. "If that is true, then how? How did you get here?"

Ashton shrugged. "I don't know. One minute, I was walking out of the funeral, the next, I was right in the middle of a strategy meeting between Roland's father and his two cronies."

"'Cronies'?" Roland repeated, "you do know those were two heads of Adrestian noble houses, yes? And my father?"

"They threw me in a dungeon," Ashton murmured, "then they threw me into your army with the express purpose of having me killed so I wouldn't cause too much trouble for them. I'm sorry if I'm not feeling too charitable describing them, Roland."

"Wait," Cethleann said, "you were sent out onto the battlefield? They did not ask for your side of the story? Not a single question?"

"Well, they heard it whether they wanted to or not," Ashton grunted, "but either they didn't believe me, or they didn't care. Kept calling me an 'Easterling' or something, too."

Cethleann looked at Ashton for a few seconds before nodding. "Yes, I can see why they would think that. But that is… that does not make it right."

"I'm not going to waste time talking about if it was fair or not," Ashton said, "I am here now, and that's what matters. And I want to know, Cethleann: can you help me? Can the other Saints help me? I know there are others thanks to Roland."

"There are four others, besides myself," Cethleann said, "Macuil, Indech, Cichol – my father – and then the namesake for the church: Saint Seiros. If there is anyone in this land who can help you, then it is them. I am only a healer, Ashton. I do not know of other worlds and lands beyond this small plain. But when we return to Enbarr, I promise you: I, and the other Saints, will do everything in our power to help you."

Ashton wiped at his eyes.

"That goes double for me," Roland added, "you saved my life on this day. And while we may not see eye to eye, know that I will forever be grateful for that."

"Good God!" Ashton exclaimed, his breathing labored, "Please, uh, stop with all this mushiness, okay? I can't take much more of this."

"Oh? By the Goddess, is he blushing?" Cethleann asked.

"I believe he is, Saint Cethleann," Roland replied, and Ashton could almost visualize the smirk on his face. "Perhaps we should stop as he asked. Before long, I imagine fire is going to start spewing out of his ears."

"Now that would be a sight!" Cethleann laughed, "I would very much like to see that!"

"No you wouldn't," Ashton mumbled, "it'd burn down this whole forest. And then where would we take cover?"

"Ah, but you see, we could use it as a weapon," Roland suggested, "prevent the enemy from getting close. It could serve as a viable alternative to magic."

I'm sorry, Liz. I'm stealing a joke from you. Hopefully I'll be able to apologize in person.

"You want to know what else is a viable alternative to magic?" Ashton asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your face."

"Hmhm, perhaps," Roland said, his face betraying what he was trying to convey.

"You two are funny," Cethleann said, smiling. "I like you."

Ashton tried not to laugh but failed.

Ashton didn't know how long they traveled through Fódlan's countryside. Time seemed like such a distant and transient thing, as if it wasn't even there. Days had no meaning. The sun rose and fell, they would rest, and then they would keep moving. Whenever they traveled through woods, they were quiet except for the chatter of birdsong, and when they crossed a field, there were no bandits, no vagabonds come to take their belongings or enemy soldiers finding them at last.

Still, Ashton had to admit that the landscape was beautiful. Several times he found himself staring off into the distance to gaze at distant mountains, or watch a babbling river as they passed it by. After some time, however, those distant mountains became far less distant. Soon, they were in some mountain pass, trying not to freeze to death as snow fell down upon them. It was only a light dusting, but Ashton's clothes were not meant for the cold. Cethleann and Roland seemed to be almost completely unaffected. For Roland, he could suppose that his plate armor, despite the rust that was accumulating on it, gave him more protection. For Cethleann, he had no answer.

They would talk back and forth, although usually conversation would peter out before long. There was not much to talk about on the road to Enbarr. All Ashton could do in those long stretches of silence was imagine what the capital looked like. Fhirdiad had been a poor introduction to cities in Fódlan, and considering just how butchered that city had been, Enbarr was probably in much better shape. Ashton continued to wonder idly as they moved forward.

The closer they got, the more villages they walked past. Roland had been a decent hunter; he would go out at random intervals to spear a boar, and one time a bear, and bring it back to cook. One time, he and Ashton thought about fishing instead, much to Cethleann's excitement.

They hadn't caught a single thing, and Roland sported a new scar across his chin. It wasn't the worst experience in the world.

Ashton wished they could have stopped in those villages, but getting Cethleann to Enbarr was paramount, and after what must have been another week, they were within sight of the grand capital of the Adrestian Empire.

To say Ashton wasn't blown away by its splendor would be correct, but it also wasn't terrible by any means. Definitely better than what Fhirdiad had looked like.

A large wall surrounded most of the city, with farms set up all around the outside, no doubt supplying food for the thousands of people who lived within the capital. The buildings inside the wall looked to be mostly constructed of stone, with flat, square roofs and tinted windows. Towering above it all, just like at Fhirdiad but somehow even more extravagant and eye-catching, was the palace. It sat right in the middle of the city, and its domed peaks sparkled like freshly fallen snow.

"Are they just going to let us in through the front door?" Ashton asked, looking to his companions.

"I see no reason why not," Roland replied, "besides the fact that I am a noble, and Cethleann is with us, news of the battle north might not have reached this far south yet."

"We reached this far south, Roland," Ashton pointed out, "And I'm not seeing a lot of activity down there. The city could be on lockdown."

"They will let us in," Cethleann stated, clasping her hands together. "I am sure of it."

"Need you more reassurance than the words of a Saint, Ashton?" Roland asked with a raised brow.

"I just don't want to be put in a cell again," Ashton muttered, "but fine. Alright. Let's go, then."

The closer they got to Enbarr, the more nervous Ashton became. The walls became massive juggernauts above him, eclipsing the sun and drenching him in shadow. Meanwhile, he could see men – guardsmen watched them approach from above, and the small glints he could see from them confirmed that they were either aiming spears or nocking arrows.

News of the battle has reached here.

"Stop right there!" a feminine voice called out, as armed and armored guards fanned out from the giant entrance into Enbarr. A woman with long, light blue hair and black-colored armor stepped out in front of them, flanked on either side by guardsmen. Ashton looked up to see that his suspicions were correct; they would be on the receiving end of dozens of arrows if any of them made the wrong move.

The woman looked between the trio, either not recognizing Saint Cethleann for who she was or not caring. "State your business in Enbarr. Now."

"Ella von Bergliez," Roland said, stepping forward, "Second daughter of Ada and Stefan von Bergliez, little sister of Sophia von Bergliez, may she rest well. Do you not recognize me?"

Ella squinted at that, marching up to Roland with a hand on her sword the entire time. Once she was close enough, she let out a small laugh.

"Roland," Ella said, grasping his shoulder and eyeing the pelts he still wore. "I'd thought you as good as dead. You should know that news of a battle far to the north has reached Enbarr. The city has been under martial law for several nights. Orders from my father and yours."

Roland let out a breath. "My father lives?"

"Much to his regret, if rumors are to be believed. But that is not important right now. Who are these people with you?" Ella asked.

"This man's name is Ashton," Roland said, patting Ashton on the shoulder. "He is the one who saved me, and is the reason I am here."

"An Easterling saved you? Ella asked, raising a brow as she crossed her arms.

"Not an Easterling," Ashton said, "I'm not from here, but I am not an Easterling. I don't even know who they are."

"…Uh huh," Ella said, nodding, "for the moment, I'll just say that I believe you. And who is this?"

"You are speaking to Saint Cethleann, daughter of-!" Roland began, before Ella took a step back as if he had just backhanded her.

"S-Saint Cethleann?" Ella stammered, placing a hand against her breastplate before bowing. "My apologies, Your Grace! I did not mean to offend you by barring entry-!"

"Please!" Cethleann piped up, Ashton seeing the beginning of a blush on her cheeks. "There is no need for apologies, Captain! You have a job to do, and from what I have seen, you have done it admirably."

"After Ashton saved me from a grisly death, we were able to sneak our way into Fhirdiad, and steal away Saint Cethleann without the Free Kingdom knowing of our presence," Roland said, "And it is time we returned her to her rightful place."

"I'll be damned," Ella breathed out, wiping her brow. "Well then, I think you're in luck. The Council is in session right now, and they will definitely want to see this. Come with me."

With that, she turned around, and the trio were led into Enbarr proper.

And another Chapter bites the dust.

I'm having some issues already writing through this lol. Currently getting through Chapter 5 and it has been a struggle. Not to do with anything in this fic, more like something else in my life. I won't bore you guys with the details, but hopefully it won't affect this story's updates. Big thanks to Stormtide_Leviathan for looking this over, as always, even if he didn't finish it-

*is shot*

Anyway, here's a link to our Discord: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

See you guys next time!