Ashton took the blows as best as he could, but even he had a limit.

Ella's attack was fierce, relentless. Even if they were only sparring, it was clear that she was treating it as if it were a real battle. They were only using wooden training weapons, and yet he felt each blow as if they were made of solid iron.

Gritting his teeth as another axe blow to the shoulder felt as if it reverberated throughout his entire body, Ashton lunged forward, attempting to catch Ella off balance. He succeeded, if only just, as she was pushed onto her heels. Her blue eyes widened marginally as Ashton slammed his wooden hammer forward, trying to hit her across the chest and finally end the match in a victory for him, of which he'd had precious few of since beginning his training.

Briefly seeing Ella smirk at him, Ashton's mouth opened just in time for him to shout as he fell to the ground in a dusty heap. He didn't pay attention to where Ella's axe had been, and he paid dearly for that.

"You make for a decent sparring partner, all things considered!" Ella laughed, standing over Ashton. "I would never have thought that, given you're supposed to be a stuffy priest."

"I used to be a football player," Ashton grunted out, leaving his hammer in the dirt as he placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the bright blue sky. "I was not a quarterback, but decently important all the same."

"What's 'football'? I think you mentioned it a while back but you never explained what it is," Ella asked, placing the butt of her axe on the ground as she wiped her forehead.

Ashton sat up, his gaze focused on the grassland that surrounded them. The Oghma Mountains still rose in the distance, but much smaller than before. There had been no ambush as they traveled through the mountain pass, and they were free to pursue the Elites through to the Tailtean Plains, just outside of Fhirdiad.

Try not to think about the last battle fought here. The Saints are here this time.

It would be less than a week until they made it to the city. In the time since the last battle, Ashton thought he had improved in combat somewhat, but there would be no way of knowing unless someone went to attack the healers again, which he prayed to the Goddess to not have happen.

Ashton had seen enough bloodshed already. Unfortunately, he thought, it wasn't likely to end anytime soon.

"What's the point in talking about it?" Ashton asked, shielding his eyes from the sun. "We don't have the materials to make a ball, and I doubt we'd be able to get several dozen men to learn the rules before the next battle."

Ella snorted. "Well, someone is a little dour today, huh?"

"I cannot help it. I-"

"And your speech is changing, too," Ella noted. "You're starting to sound less like an uneducated hick and more like a priest. Which makes sense, but it feels so weird. I have been able to see you change in real time, and I'm not sure I like it."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Ashton muttered.

"Ashton, if I was disappointed in you, I wouldn't let you train with me like this," Ella said, her face devoid of a smile. "Trust me on that."

Ashton got to his feet. "I don't know, Ella. Something about it seems wrong. I don't know what. I told Roland this and- well, I've told someone else too, but the more time passes, the more I think I won't be able to go back home, after all this."

Ella planted her axe into the ground and walked up to Ashton. "Is this place really so bad that you feel the need to get out of here?"

"There's a war going on, Ella."

"I know that, fool," Ella replied, tapping his shoulder. "You seemed to be doing alright at the priory, though, didn't you? You have us, too. Roland, me, I'm sure that Griselda woman is still walking around and, hell, I think she's a Hevring."

Ashton raised a brow. "A Hevring?"

"Another noble family," Ella waved off, "nothing important. Ministry of the Interior or something."

Ashton nodded slowly. "Right."

"Anyway, do you think we wouldn't miss you, if we suddenly woke up and disappeared?" Ella asked.

"There are plenty of people back home who miss me now that I have suddenly up and disappeared, Ella," Ashton answered, his voice low. "My father made it clear how much I mean to him long before I left. I'm one of the few good things in his life he has left, and I won't abandon him just because I've made a few friends here. My life may have been heading nowhere, but with this new perspective, maybe I could finally make something of myself – find work, meet someone, start a family, that kind of thing."

"Damn, only barely out of his teen years and he's already thinking of settling down," Ella laughed.

Ashton held his hands out to his sides. "Not like it matters anymore, does it? I never thought about this until I came here, you know. I suppose being put into several life-or-death situations will do that to a man. I do wish I could take a few of you with me, though."

"Are you sure you want Roland to see the world you told us about?" Ella asked with a sardonic smile. "It would blow his little head up within moments."

"Point taken, but still," Ashton looked up to the sky again. "I hope one day I'll be able to do that. Maybe show her as well."

Ella stared at Ashton for a moment. Ashton looked behind him to see if something had happened before returning his gaze to her.

"Something wrong?"

"You mentioned someone without naming them earlier," Ella said, a smile forming on her lips, one that made his blood run cold. "Who is 'her'?"

"Uh, no one?" Ashton answered, his voice low.

"Oh, come now! It's just me, your old friend Ella! Surely you could spare some more than that?" Ella said leaning in close, that same smirk still on her face.

"…her name's Rhea," Ashton finally said, feeling his forehead sweat as he leaned back away from Ella. "I think she's another healer. Been talking to her a lot recently."

"Huh, I was expecting something more than that," Ella said, blinking.

Ashton frowned. "What were you expecting?"

"Well, something less normal. Something such as speaking to Lady Seiros and Cethleann. Imagine the tales written about such meetings!"

Ashton swallowed hard. "Yeah. That would be something, wouldn't it?"

Between training sessions with Ella and the occasional night spent speaking to Roland, Ashton's days began to slow to a crawl, returning to the monotony they had held before the last battle and during his days at the priory.

The only thing keeping him sane was the constant practice he was receiving for his Faith magic.

Ashton didn't truly understand how he did it – which probably explained why it was called 'Faith' magic. He had heard of Reason magic, and it sounded too complicated for one such as him. He was never one for mathematics, for divining what something should do based on a strict set of equations. Most mages could memorize such things, he had learned, and they were terrors on the battlefield.

Faith magic, however, was much more simpler, but the pool of people who could pull it off effectively was even slimmer.

It relied on faith, obviously, hence the name, but there was more to it than that.

Truthfully, Ashton didn't know how to explain it, exactly. Ever since he'd had that dream months before, it was almost like it had become second nature, like riding a bike or driving a car. Granted, he hadn't learned anything beyond a healing spell, but it was something.

The only thing Ashton could say for certain is that the source of it was outside of his body. He thought of what he wanted to do, felt as if he was asking for permission, and whatever damage he had before him was swallowed in a golden-green light, and the body before him would begin mending. It wasn't as fast as other healers he saw, but it was good enough. There were still soldiers who needed to either be healed before the next battle or were to have their pain eased.

Ashton could do without the moaning, though.

The stink of death had long left the tent he was in. By his side were fellow healers, all united in providing as much comfort as they could to the wounded.

Did I save these people…?

Ashton still found it hard to believe that he was responsible for what Seiros said he was. He didn't protect the people closest to him, but he protected those he couldn't even see? The more he thought about it, though, the more it made some amount of sense.

Wiping his brow, Ashton continued healing a soldier's side. While the source of Faith magic was outside his body, it was a struggle to use it for long periods of time, and the heat in the tent was stifling.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't get the chance to finish.

"You."

Ashton almost stood up the instant that word rang out through the tent. Even his fellow healers stopped their tasks to look at the newcomer.

Macuil.

It was impossible to mistake the saint for anyone else. What with his armored robes and hat, along with the executioner's sword strapped onto his back. He looked the part of a holy warrior. And he was staring straight at Ashton with forest-green eyes.

Macuil beckoned him. "You are coming with me. I need to have words with you."

Ashton looked around, hoping above hope that Macuil was speaking to someone else.

"Do I look like I am in the mood to be entertained?" Macuil asked suddenly. "No? Then stop acting the fool. You know I am talking to you."

Ashton gulped and stood up fully. "Alright."

He ignored the curious gazes of his fellow healers and followed Macuil outside of the tent.

"What sort of game are you playing, Easterling?" Macuil finally said, once they were out of earshot of anyone nearby.

He had taken Ashton to a secluded spot; on a grassy hill barely within view of the main camp. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds that dotted the Tailtean Plains. Soon they would be within sight of Fhirdiad. Ashton had been counting the days.

If the look on Macuil's face was any indication, Ashton's counting days were done. He would be surprised if he walked off that hilltop alive.

"What are you talking about?" Ashton asked, keeping his voice level.

"Do you think your actions would go unnoticed?" Macuil asked, looking down at Ashton. "That we would not notice these nightly sessions of yours?"

"Oh, you're talking about that," Ashton breathed out.

"What else could I possibly be speaking of?" Macuil scoffed.

"Any number of things, really," Ashton replied, his brows furrowing. "I'm not the one who starts those, you know. She's the one who comes to me."

"I find that hard to believe," Macuil said, crossing his arms.

"Why's that, Saint Macuil?"

Macuil bared his teeth for an instant before continuing. "Because Seiros and I are of the same mind. You humans are good for one thing: being tools. Blunt instruments we are using to avenge our people."

Ashton blinked. "You really do not care about what I'm hearing right now, are you?"

"Why should I? I have never made a big point to hide it, and I never will. This form I take now is barely tolerable to me. One day, I will shed it for good."

"That is going to be a lot to unpack later," Ashton said, clapping his hands together. "I don't have anything I can say to you, Saint Macuil. I have never forced these things upon Saint Seiros. I am to believe she has always done things of her own free will, and that of the Goddess."

"You expect me to believe you?" Macuil asked pointedly.

Ashton narrowed his eyes. "You would not have taken me out here if you would not believe a thing I said, Saint Macuil."

Macuil stared down at Ashton. Ashton could feel his palms sweating and his heart thundering in his chest. He felt smaller and more scared than ever before. It was like he was looking up at a massive dragon, ready to swallow him whole if he so much as moved in a way it didn't like.

Eventually, Macuil's gaze softened slightly. "I see."

Ashton blinked, feeling the burning sun on the back of his neck.

"Oh, do not act so surprised, Easterling," Macuil scoffed, turning around. "Seiros has never implied an attraction to your kind, but I suppose it is not impossible. I still believe Cichol made a mistake in taking a human woman as his wife, but I will not pry into the affairs of my the last of my kind so long as they know I will not partake in it."

"…So what was this, then?" Ashton asked. "A test?"

"Something to that effect, yes. You are sharper than most." Macuil observed, "Consider this a gift for impressing me, if only slightly: cease what you are doing. The next time she calls for you, do not heed it. Intermingling yourself with our affairs will only bring about your ruin."

Ashton snorted. "You want me to say no to the most powerful woman on the continent?"

"I am advising. What I want does not matter. Seiros herself has sought out my advice in battle, but little else. You would do well to heed my warnings, Easterling."

"I have a name," he replied. "It's Ashton. I am not an Easterling."

Macuil raised a brow. "Ah, yes. Hmm. Perhaps you are a little too light-skinned to be of their ilk. You are far more interesting than even I gave you credit for, are you not? That story you spun in front of us two years ago, it was true."

Ashton looked down, his lips thinning as a gust of warm summer wind blew past. "As true as the day I was born. I am guessing you have not found a way for me to return?"

"No," Macuil replied succinctly. "And I do not suspect we will, what with our minds on the war effort. You are better off thinking of another boon we can grant you. What will it be? Our blood? A title? The possibilities are endless, and Cichol and Cethleann will vouch for you. And from the sounds of it, Seiros will as well."

"But not you."

"Perish the thought! I would rather your kind remained in the caves they belong in, but compromises must be made."

"I would ask about all of this, about how you keep talking about 'your kind' and 'my kind', but I don't think you'd give me an answer, would you?" Ashton asked, crossing his arms.

Macuil walked past Ashton, whispering one thing into his ear.

"If you continue on this path, you will find out soon enough."

Macuil walked off, while Ashton stood stock still. He sighed, rubbing his forehead before pressing it against his mouth; he felt as if he was going to vomit. After a moment, his stomach settled down.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Ashton whispered softly.

When Ashton heard a fluttering at the entrance to the communal tent, he knew who it was. It was the eve of the second battle of Fhirdiad – well, Ashton had heard it would be more like a siege. They would surround the city, cut off all supply lines, and bombard it with magic and siege weapons. There were still innocent people in the city, Ashton knew, and the sound of all of that destruction made his hair stand on end.

He hoped that casualties would be kept to a minimum.

Ashton got up, the shine of the moon casting the fields outside in a beautiful blue glow. Fireflies flew through the air lazily, shining as brightly as tiny stars. He took a moment to admire the serenity that surrounded him before continuing.

Ironically, Rhea brought him to a similar hill that Macuil interrogated him on several days prior. Ashton had to keep himself from laughing.

"My apologies for not speaking to you for some time," Rhea said, bowing her head. "My thoughts have been preoccupied lately, what with all that has been happening."

"I don't mind," Ashton replied, rubbing his shoulder. "I think I'm done recovering, anyway. Ready for battle whenever it happens."

"Are you sure you wish to fight? You are a healer," Rhea pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'm the one everyone is going to be aiming for when the enemy attacks. I need to learn how to defend myself, and with Ella's help I think I've gotten the hang of it. Well, somewhat."

Rhea pursed her lips before shaking her head.

"Be careful, then. Do not take unnecessary risks."

"Scared I will die on you?" Ashton asked.

Folding her hands together in front of her, Rhea's next words came out in a sharp whisper.

"Absolutely."

"Ah," Ashton hummed, tapping his foot. "I'm… sorry about that."

"You are agitated. More than usual," Rhea pointed out, craning her neck. "Is something the matter?"

More than you know, Seiros.

"A lot of things," Ashton replied. "Not sure how much I should get into them here, but… I got a visit from someone."

"Who? That is, if you wish to speak of it."

Ashton clenched his fists. "It was Saint Macuil."

The air felt as if it got colder once he said that. Not too much of a drop, but just enough to be noticeable. It was the ending of summer, but it should not have become so cold so quickly. Ashton turned to Rhea to see her staring at him with narrow eyes.

"Did he now?" Rhea said, turning away. "How… interesting."

"It was an interesting conversation, yeah. I will not let it bother me, though. Not with the coming battle," Ashton admitted with a shrug.

Rhea turned to him, her pupils narrowed dangerously. "What did he speak to you about?"

Ashton tried to come up with something to lie with, but quickly found that he had nothing to say other than the partial truth.

"He said our little nightly sojourns are… improper," Ashton said delicately, rubbing his forehead. "There was a bit more than that but that was the gist of it."

"I will- I am sure Saint Seiros will have words with him, then," Rhea said, turning away again. "It is not his right to meddle in the affairs of others."

Ashton kept to himself that he subtly implied that the Saints weren't human. Which, by extension, meant the woman next to him wasn't human. The more he thought about it, though, the less he seemed to care. Was it so strange, in a world full of magic, wyverns, and pegasi, that there'd be something that looked human and yet wasn't? Ashton idly wondered if Seiros was an elf.

"It did not bother me too much," Ashton said.

"Regardless, it is not he who should decide what is improper," Rhea replied succinctly. "Do not worry. I doubt he will bother you again."

Ashton looked down. "He also said that the Saints are no closer to finding a way home for me than they were when I first asked them."

Rhea pursed her lips. "Did he truly say that?"

"I cannot remember if it was implied or not," Ashton said, shrugging. "But that's basically what he said. And I'm inclined to believe him. The Saints are fighting a continent-spanning war. To ask them to help me was selfish."

"Perhaps it was, but what else were you to do?" Rhea asked.

Ashton closed his eyes. "Macuil listed a few examples. A title. A gift of their blood, something like that."

"Again, it is not for him to decide what others should do," Rhea said, a slight hiss to her voice that Ashton barely took notice of. "They will find a way home for you, but… you are right in thinking that the war has taken their minds off of such things. For the moment, at least. When the time comes, you will be repaid for your efforts. I am sure of it."

Ashton sighed. "I'm not sure it's an option anymore."

Rhea raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"If five of the most powerful people on the continent can't find a way for me to go home in the damn near two years I have been here, then I doubt anything will be able to send me home. It's… I do not blame them. Despite it all, I think I am starting to like it here."

There was a flash of something in Rhea's eyes, and Ashton couldn't look at her fast enough to see what her expression had been. He felt her place her hand against his shoulder, and he knew what was coming next.

"They will find it, one day," Rhea said, "and when this war is over, and Nemesis lies dead, perhaps I will even go with you."

Ashton felt her slip his hand down his arm, as if testing his reaction. She should've know better considering how little, if any, resistance he had given last time, but at that point it was something of a game, and he felt he couldn't deny her that. Besides, her touch felt nice.

Soon enough, her hand grasped his, and he squeezed it comfortingly. It was surprisingly soft, with a little bit of roughness to her palms. As expected; she was a warrior, after all. He had heard of Saint Seiros on the field of battle, how she wielded her sword and shield and magic like a master. And yet, there she was, silently holding his hand.

All Ashton knew is that he didn't want her to stop.

"Is this too much?" she said after Ashton was silent for a while. "If you wish, I could-"

"It's fine," Ashton said. "I like it."

"Then," Rhea said breathlessly. "Would you be fine with this as well?"

Ashton felt her grasp his arm with hers, and in the next moment her head was on his shoulder. He wished he'd been sitting down – it would've been more romantic that way, but it still felt good to have her there, molding herself against him. He couldn't tell where that sudden warm feeling in his chest came from, or when it had first appeared, but in that moment he didn't particularly care.

A warm breeze passed them, and Ashton could feel her hair tickling his skin.

"One day," Ashton said. "When I know who you are. When I can call you by your real name."

"That day is fast approaching," Rhea whispered, causing the hair on the back of Ashton's neck to stand on end. "I promise."

"I hope so," Ashton replied.

They stood there, entangled with one another, until nearly sunrise.

Magic was in the air. Ashton could feel it. It made his heart thunder in his chest and his blood feel like it was boiling in his veins.

Thunder clouds had rolled in from the northwest, a rarity in the Tailtean Plains but not unheard of. Across the fields, Ashton could see the city of Fhirdiad, almost as broken as the day he had left it.

Ashton had been shuffled nearly a dozen times since the battle was poised to begin. At one moment he was slated to be sent to the front lines, just like the first battle he had when he first arrived. An hour later, and he'd be in the back again, protecting the healers. He had been given a warhammer, one that looked to be made of wrought iron and felt as if it weighed half a ton.

It would do.

As like all the other times before, Ashton heard and felt the battle before he heard it. He was directly in the middle of the army when the city of Fhirdiad exploded into a cacophony of noise. He heard the sounds of screams in the air, and mere minutes later he smelled iron and burning flesh.

I hate that smell.

Ashton knew that, from where he was, it was only a matter of time before the battle reached him. He still wasn't a soldier; no amount of training with Ella would be able to prepare him for true battle in the short amount of time they were given. Still, it would have to be enough.

A few moments later, with rain falling upon him and lightning shooting across the sky, thunder shaking the earth, Ashton knew that the original plan wasn't going to work.

Red lights surged forward, marks of the Elites taking to the field, and one that stood above all the others, nearly piercing the clouds themselves, shimmered and pulsed, giving Ashton a small headache.

And then the full brunt of Nemesis' army was upon them.

Ashton was glad that he had eventually settled on being within the army instead of back with the priests and priestesses. They were under better guard than last time, and they wouldn't need him to protect them. Not that he had a better chance against the maelstrom in front of him, but it made him feel slightly better.

I wonder when I decided this would be a good idea. This is not my war.

That wasn't true, though. Not anymore. As proven when a Kingdom soldier saw him and charged with an axe raised. He was a proper barbarian, wearing nothing but animal furs and a leather jerkin.

Ashton waited for him before surging forward just as his axe was poised to split his head in half. His shoulder connected with his gut, his years as a football player coming in handy as he fell to the muddy ground, his axe clattering to the ground. Ashton wasted no time in sending the head of his warhammer into the soldier's head, giving him a quick death.

It was only the start, Ashton knew. The battle had just begun.

Quickly, as the hellish sounds of war made his ears ring, Ashton did his best to catch people unaware and unprepared for him. He knew he likely wouldn't last long in a full confrontation. He'd gotten lucky with the first; it wouldn't last if he kept pushing it.

Ashton could feel an immense pressure after what felt like an eternity of battle. It was the same feeling he got when Maurice stood behind him, carrying the abomination he called a weapon. Ashton couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it felt as if his stomach was doing jumping-jacks inside him. He couldn't tell if it was sweat or rain pouring down his face.

In seconds, Ashton was knocked off his feet as a shockwave spread out through the ranks of the Kingdom and Empire soldiers. It was as if a bomb had gone off, and the sky above looked like it had cracked under the strain. The clouds parted slightly, allowing a faint trickle of sunlight to descend upon the land.

When Ashton was able to pull himself up, he saw what he could only describe as a battle of the gods.

He could see Seiros, her sword and shield shining in the light available. By her side were Cichol and Macuil, their own weapons as bright as her own. She looked like a warrior goddess; Ashton wouldn't be surprised if she actually turned out to be one.

Facing her was a tall, grizzled man. Scars went up his face and bare-chested body. What little armor he wore was blackened as if it had been burned, and a black capre adorned his shoulders and fluttered in the wind. His eyes almost appeared to glow a dark red.

Nemesis.

In his hand was a sword, not unlike Maurice's. But something was different about it that Ashton couldn't place. Even so, it didn't diminish the grisly nature of it. If anything, its size and appearance affected him more than Maurice's ever did. It was like looking at a badly mauled corpse.

Ashton expected there to be an exchange of words. Something, anything before they started coming to blows. But there were none. In an instant, they were upon each other, and Ashton was sent sprawling to the ground again as Seiros and Nemesis clashed.

It was like being too close to a tornado, or looking at the wall of a hurricane. Their blows were so forceful, so beyond him he could barely keep himself upright.

Before long, however, the battle that surrounded him began in earnest again, and Ashton had no choice but to keep fighting. He smashed and he swung his hammer, making sure to hit as many Kingdom soldiers as was physically possible. With each swing, however, her could feel the muscles in his body straining. It became harder and harder to keep it up.

Thankfully, however, he wouldn't need to. Not for much longer. The skies began to clear as the world around him grew quieter and quieter. It became harder for Ashton to perceive anything, and he felt himself drop to his knees, exhausted.

Let them kill me. I've had enough.

Ashton expected a sword to swing out of nowhere to take his head clean off, but nothing came. All that surrounded him were bodies, both of Kingdom and Empire soldiers alike. The sun beamed down on him as the last remnants of the storm were blown away by a cold wind.

Before Ashton completely collapsed, he felt a hand on his shoulder steady him. He looked up to see two people standing beside him. He recognized one as Cichol, and the other – he had seen her so many times in a simple robe that gazing upon her in her full regalia again almost came as a shock. She was the one holding him up.

"Is… is it over?" Ashton rasped.

Seiros nodded, but her face was still unreadable. "Yes."

Ashton let out a breath. "Good. Good."

"Nemesis still lives. He and his Elites have been routed, along with what remains of their troops," Cichol stated, causing Seiros' eye to twitch almost imperceptibly. "Regardless, this battle is over."

Ashton nodded his head, looking up. "Guess I finally got to see you without that robe, huh?"

Seiros' face bloomed into a smile, and Ashton could hardly believe that a hateful expression had been in its face just moments before.

"I wonder, when did you first figure out that it was I?" Seiros asked as she knelt by Ashton.

"The moment we met," Ashton replied in a whisper. "Well, a little bit after that. I recognized your face, even if you were trying to hide it. I guess Saint Cichol knows, too."

Cichol snorted, crossing his arms. "I am the one she came to for 'advice'. Nonetheless, I will leave you two to… whatever it is you are doing. Macuil is currently purging the city, and I need to make sure that he does not go too far."

"Thank you, my friend," Seiros said. "I will be with you in a while."

As Cichol left, Ashton looked around. Only dead bodies surrounded them; nobody living was staring at them. He sighed and leaned into Seiros, and she graciously accepted the unspoken request. She wrapped her arms around Ashton's neck.

"I'm… glad we didn't need to bombard the city," Ashton whispered. "There could be innocent people in there. Good thing Nemesis decided to come to us, huh?"

"I would much rather you had not fought at all, but if it is your wish, I cannot stop you," Seiros lightly chastised.

"I don't know why I did. Maybe the last battle awoke something in me. I dunno. I'm exhausted, but somehow I feel…"

"Please, do not speak anymore. I can feel you trembling," Seiros said.

Ashton reached a hand up, letting go of his hammer and grasping one of her hands in his.

"I feel fine. I'm just… uh, a bit nervous," Ashton murmured.

"Whatever for?"

"Well, I've never… really been held in this way," Ashton answered, turning away as he could feel his cheeks heat up.

Seiros leaned her head forward. "Would you like me to stop?"

Ashton shook his head. "It feels nice, I just don't know how to… react to it, is what I'm saying."

Seiros hummed. "Perhaps we should go somewhere less filthy. Let me help you up."

"What if someone sees you?" Ashton asked.

"I do not particularly care. Let them," Seiros replied, hooking one arm beneath Ashton's and hoisting him up with a surprising amount of strength. Ashton already knew she was incredibly strong, but he couldn't help but marvel at how secure he felt.

"Wait," Ashton wheezed. "Er, before we go, can I ask you something?"

Seiros stood there holding him, raising a brow and waiting for him to continue.

"Do you…" he began before coughing a little. "Is there anywhere in Enbarr we could go to grab a bite to eat when we get back?"

Macuil's sweep of the city was swift and brutal. The remnants of the Kingdom army were scattered and unable to mount a swift defense with the loss of their leaders, and whatever resistance they were able to put up was swiftly squashed beneath his heel.

That was, until they made it to the last quadrant of the city.

Fhirdiad was virtually a crumbling ruin. Two years of occupation and a city of humanity is turned into nothing but a mark on the earth. Macuil wondered if he would outlast the city completely or not. It was while he was in these ruminations that a soldier came upon him, one of his own.

"My Lord, we have located the last group of barbarians!" the armored knight said, riding up to Macuil.

Macuil scowled. "Why are you telling me this? You know your orders already: slaughter those who stay, and chase out those who are attempting to flee. Do your duty."

"Would that I could, sir! But these ones surrendered! He calls himself the son of Gloucester." The knight said, bowing his head. "I thought it prudent that I-!"

Macuil looked up, his eyes wide. "A son of Gloucester, you say?"

"I do not have the means to confirm, sir, but he surrendered his weapons and offered whatever information he knows in exchange for his life."

"Why would I kill such a valuable asset?" Macuil asked aloud. "Oh, Seiros will love this. I wonder how she will react."

"Sir?" the knight said, concern coloring his tone.

"Nevermind," Macuil waved off. "Chain him and bring him to whichever dungeon is the closest, preferably the castle's. When Saint Seiros arrives, bring her to him."

The knight bowed his head again. "It will be done, Saint Macuil."

As the knight trotted off, Macuil's mind was filled with dozens of plans. A hostage, maybe? A liar? Perhaps. If it was true, however, then maybe it could be used to his advantage. Nemesis had escaped. Nothing in the world would be able to catch the murderer and his allies. And Macuil doubted that Seiros would leave Fódlan undefended. Nemesis could be anywhere within a week. Even in their true forms, it would be difficult.

The war ahead was likely to be a long and arduous one, if Macuil's suspicions were correct. There were always going to be turncoats. How lucky they were that the first one would be in their favor.

"Very well, then," Macuil whispered to himself as men and women moved to and fro around him, the sound of their armor clanking drowned out by his own thoughts. "Let us see where this leads us…"

I hope you appreciate me tearing myself away from Elden Ring to post this chapter. Fucking hell, that game is tearing me apart and I love it.

Anyway, so yeah, I thought I'd clear the mist and just put down the pairings for good. Yes, it's gonna be OC/Rhea, and I only have a slight bit of shame for that. Still, I like to think I'm doing it justice so far. It may seem like it's going by fast and - well that's because it is. Alex and Liz didn't even meet their love interests until around this time in-story, funnily enough. I guess Ashton is just a chad that way.

Also, hopefully, this fic can pull you away from... recent events, if only for a moment. I know that's what I'm doing when writing it.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Here's a link to our Discord server: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

See you guys next week!