"How many do you think we cut down?" Indech asked, standing beside Cichol as they both watched the retreating fleet. Before too long, they were over the horizon and gone, but they both knew that the King of Liberation would be back. If he could return from escaping Fhirdiad, then he would return from such a crushing defeat.

"Hundreds, possibly. Thousands." Cichol replied, his voice feigning coldness. "Too many to count."

"And here he goes," Indech grumbled, flipping his hands up and walking around before slapping his knees once. "They were conscripts. Does it not bother you? Cethleann is back in the capital healing wounded as we speak and yet, here we are, destroying the lives of people who had nothing to do with Sothis' murder. Had nothing to do with our kindred's murder. I know it bothers you as much as I. It is only the two of us here, Cichol, there is no reason to act so frigid."

Cichol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Even Hera is not comparable to you when it comes to guilting someone, Indech."

"It is one of my few talents. Now answer the question."

"I cannot, and will not, spare a thought towards our enemy, no matter how innocent they might be. It is not a matter of morality, Indech; they fight to kill us, and we defend by killing them. It need not be more complicated than that," Cichol finally replied. "I have my own to protect, and the rest of you have your need for vengeance."

"Vengeance? Or justice?" Indech asked.

"A fine line that I will not cross, nor even approach. Nemesis poses a danger to all, not just us. If there is anyone to blame for this, it is he."

Indech took a step back, away from the cliff edge facing the sea, nodding his head. "A fair answer. I almost wasn't expecting one from you, Cichol. Perhaps I will ask Macuil next."

"His perspective is likely to be a fair bit cynical than my own," Cichol sighed, "I doubt he will ever truly open himself up again. He has always been hardheaded."

"And not just because he has horns up there, yeah?"

Cichol was going to respond, asking what Indech meant, before figuring it out himself and biting back a scathing remark.

"You are…" Cichol began before sighing.

"I am what I am, and you could not live without me," Indech finished, smiling as he held his hands behind his back.

"Why can you not be quieter while around me, as you are with everyone else who is not me?" Cichol asked, shaking his head. "You are the strangest of us."

"It means I stand out, so I will take that as a compliment."

Grumbling, Cichol turned to Indech. "Do you think she has been doing well?"

Indech raised a brow. "Cryptic. Who could this 'she' be, I wonder?"

"You know exactly who I mean."

Snapping his fingers, Indech spoke. "Of course, you mean her! Truly, I do believe she has been doing much, much better since we picked that lost stray off the road. There is a spring to her step that was not that before, even with Nemesis knocking on our metaphorical door."

Cichol finally had a smile spread across his lips. "So she has. Good to know it is not only I who has seen that. Perhaps with this, there will be peace after this is over after all."

Indech snorted. "You and I both know that is wishful thinking at best, Cichol. Were we to win against Nemesis, completely and utterly, there would be another monarch, another murderer, to take his place. Nemesis is merely the most recent of these murderous dastards to gain a semblance of power. Who will be the next, I wonder?"

Cichol sighed. "Such a way with words. Am I not allowed this one moment of respite?"

"Not while I draw breath, no," Indech replied, chortling to himself. "If Macuil were here, he would no doubt say something much more cynical."

"So you have said."

"It is true, and you know it, and you cannot convince me otherwise."

Cichol groaned. "I miss Hera. Cethleann. They are much more pleasant to talk to than you. I would settle for Ashton right now, or perhaps even Wilhelm. Anyone except you."

The final flash of light before the sun set over the horizon was followed by silence before Indech laughed and Cichol chided him.

"How many casualties?"

Ella walked around Roland's desk, her hand outlining the rim as dim torchlight made her shadow dance about the canvas.

"A hundred or so," Ella replied, her voice firm. "The bodies have not been counted yet, and there's no tell how many were simply eviscerated with magic."

Roland grumbled, rubbing his forehead as he propped his head on the desk. "It may not seem costly, but I feel as if every one of those lost lives is like a stab through my heart."

"Well, at least someone acts like he cares," Ella grumbled. "My mother would never so much as look at casualty reports, meanwhile you have me collecting them personally and relaying them to you. Is that something your father taught you?"

"My father has taught me precious little of compassion," Roland grunted. "I know how to operate our lands, run them smoothly so that my father needn't so much as lift a finger, but I had to learn myself to care for the common man, no matter how destitute or unremarkable."

"Did Ashton help with that, I wonder?" Ella mused aloud, kneeling as she stared at Roland. "Did getting your ass saved by him all those years ago make you go soft?"

"Even before then, I made attempts," Roland replied, leaning back in his chair and placing his inked feather in it well. "I will not lie and say he did not have a hand in it. Truthfully, the both of you are the greatest friends I have. So please, in coming battles, do not throw away your life recklessly. I would never forgive you."

"Well now, just what I needed. Your grumbling busybody of a ghost haunting my every step," Ella chuckled, pushing herself away from the table. "Your family make any headway with that engagement, by the way? Sorry if it's an uncomfortable topic but I'd rather talk about anything else right now."

Roland snorted. "And by what right do you request this information? This is sensitive even among the Aegir family."

"Because I wanna know if my best friend is going to get hitched to a woman he hates or can at least tolerate," Ella shot back. "Goddess knows that if my own mother pressed me into a marriage, I'd fight it. I probably wouldn't win but I'd fight it. She knows better, though."

Roland tapped a finger against the table once before standing up, his face blank.

"Truthfully, I do not know what to think," Roland replied with a sigh. "You know… Come, walk with me. I tire of this stuffy atmosphere."

Ella shrugged as Roland led the way out of the tent. Despite it being the middle of winter, it was an unseasonably pleasant night. The moon hung low over the horizon, and off in the distance the Oghma Mountains rolled up to touch the sky. Stars glittered in the night like diamonds, their solemn glow creating a brilliant light show.

The camp the two were in charge of was relatively quiet, with only a few soldiers and guardsmen up and about, who occasionally gave the two nods as they passed by.

"Truthfully, my old friend? It has been proceeding smoothly," Roland finally said, "so much so that a dowry has already been sent. By this time next moon, I could be a married man."

"I wasn't asking if the proposal was going through, I was asking if you wanted it, if you liked it," Ella pressed. "I know your family's honor is important you, for some Goddess forsaken reason, but you must have an opinion of your own. Let it out."

If Ella's eyes weren't deceiving her, she could have sworn she saw Roland's face light up in a blush as he wiped at his forehead conspicuously.

"Lady Bellona is by all accounts, an incredible woman," Roland began, "she has an immaculate track record not just as a knight in the Emperor's guard, but also a long history of helping commoners and such against bandits and wild animals. She is incredible, and I have never met her."

Ella did a double take. "Never… met her?"

"Her family was interested, and had the greatest offer among all of the others, despite being of a lower standing house," Roland replied, frowning. "I have no doubt that we would be fast friends should we meet, but I do not know her perspective on this marriage, nor do I know if we would be compatible as a couple. I do not know, and that seems to frighten only me, and nobody else."

"I mean, huh," Ella wiped her forehead of a few errant hairs. "I expected her to be some kind of conniving harpy, I wasn't thinking about a war goddess."

"Surprising," Roland commented.

"Oh, shut it," Ella snapped, "Anyway, hmmm. That's actually better than I was expecting. You know what I think you should do?"

Roland raised a brow, stopping in his tracks as Ella turned to face him.

"Go and meet her, before this whole thing becomes official. Get to know her. Judging from what you've told me, you two would be amazing," Ella answered, a small smirk appearing on her face afterward. "I never took you for a married man, Roland, but I gotta say, I think it'll suit you if you've got a woman like that keeping you in line."

"As if I need to be kept in line to begin with," Roland scoffed. "I am the heir of House Aegir, and my manners are immaculate."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say. You know, if you find out she's not your type-" Ella stopped, shaking her head while clicking her tongue. "No, nevermind. Ashton's already stolen. Too bad. You lost your chance there."

"Perhaps I ought to relieve you of your sharp tongue…" Roland grumbled.

"Is that a threat, Sir Aegir?" Ella asked. "Threatening a young woman in the early hours of the night? How scandalous. I could have you thrown into the dungeons for this."

"I have spent enough time in prisons," Roland sniffed. "I am sick of them."

"You saved Cethleann once. Once."

"That was enough."

"Idiot," Ella replied, lightly shoving Roland. "Someone ought to humble. Hopefully this new lady of yours will be just the thing."

"I will not lie and say that I am not still nervous. This marriage, no matter how perfect it may seem on the surface, could still burn just as quickly as any kindling," Roland said, before a light smile spread across his lips. "But this conversation has been useful for putting my mind at ease. I thank you for that, old friend."

"Hey. Anytime," Ella replied, giving a thumbs up. "It is one of my many talents, I'll have you know."

"What are some other ones, then?" Roland asked.

"Well, Roland, I'm glad you asked. I could go on all night…"

"I-I thank you, my lady…" the soldier gasped out. "The pain is… nearly gone."

"Save your strength, brave warrior. Sleep now," Hera replied, gently rubbing the soldier's forehead. "When you awaken, all will be well."

Nodding slightly, the soldier turned his head to the side, and a moment later, his eyes closed. Hera let out a sigh as she stood up, the moans of the wounded surrounding her as others tended to them.

"Oh, well," a voice said beside her. Hera did not recognize it at first, until she turned to see a tan-skinned man with brown hair and a white robe staring at her. "It's been a long time. Hera, right?"

Hera smiled. "Ashton. Or shall I say, Sir Ashton. You have come a long way since I met you on that priory, years ago."

Ashton barked a laugh. "Do not remind me of that. I would rather leave things like that in the past. I was confused back then. I am better now, though."

"Better indeed, considering what my husband has told me," Hera replied, beckoning Ashton. "Perhaps we should retreat from this place. The others can deal with them. I wish to speak with you, one on one."

"Now that's enough to make me nervous," she heard Ashton grumble, barely audible.

The streets of Enbarr were recovering. New stone had been set to fill in the gaps in buildings, and rubble had been cleared from most of the main streets. The walls, while not entirely repaired, were patrolled at all times as the holes were mended. It was not a pleasant sight to Hera, all things considered. To see the city she had lived in for almost a hundred years fall into such disrepair, all from one attack – it filled her chest with a tightness that refused to leave.

Even if she did not know the man beside her very well, his company was welcome.

"I apologize that I haven't spoken to you very often," Ashton said quietly. "What with my new duties and what happened during the campaign a couple years back, I suppose it just kept slipping my mind. I wanted to meet with you, but I never got the chance."

"My husband has told me much about you, and Cethleann has sung your praises more times than I can count," Hera replied, crossing her arms. "You have proven yourself trustworthy time and time again. And you are rather bold, to court the main figure of our religion."

Ashton looked around suddenly, causing Hera to giggle.

"I'd, um, appreciate it if you kept that to yourself," Ashton whispered. "If the common man were to find out, or goddess forbid, Lycaon, I do not want to know what would happen to me."

"Nothing terrible, I assure you," Hera replied, closing her eyes as she felt the sun upon her face. "Nothing terrible happened to me."

Ashton nodded, sighing. "Probably. I suppose we are just being paranoid. Seiros is supposed to give the air of an infallible prophet and warrior. How would that work with her in a relationship to some basic Knight of Seiros?"

"Ah, but you are not simply a Knight of Seiros, are you?" Hera asked, causing Ashton to look at her with widened eyes. "I can feel it, just as you do for me. The Crest of Cichol runs through my veins, and I know the Crest of Seiros runs through yours."

"I need to learn how to do that," Ashton grumbled, "I do not like how everyone with a Crest is able to tell I have one too, but I cannot do it for everyone else. I feel as if I'm under a microscope."

"A microscope?" Hera asked, tilting her head. "What a strange word."

Ashton waved a hand. "Not something you need to worry about. Nothing like it exists here. Just imagine looking at something in incredibly fine detail, so much so that nothing is hidden. That is how I feel."

"It will come to you in time," Hera said. "You are a first-generation bearer. Any children you might have a chance of it too, although considering who you have taken to bed, I do not think you should worry."

Ashton went quiet as the two walked the streets of Enbarr, looking to the ground before finally saying something again.

"I don't know if you know this, but… Seiros is pregnant," Ashton said.

"Oh, indeed?" Hera hummed, stopping. Ashton followed suit, his hands curling into fists. "How interesting."

"I haven't known you for very long, and yet you are the most cryptic person I have ever met. Well, most unflappable at the least," Ashton grunted, shaking his head as he moved to his right to lean against the wall.

People passed the duo by, unconcerned about the delicate conversation they were having. Hera wasn't worried about anyone overhearing them, especially with so many people about.

"What is it that worries you so?" Hera asked pointedly. "Is it perhaps being a father itself, or what you will do with said child while you and Seiros hide your relationship?"

Ashton opened his mouth for a moment, as if to say something, but quickly closed it. After a moment of thought, he spoke again.

"Both," he said, "both of them scare me. I never thought I would be a father. I never thought I would be in a relationship with a dragon in human form. I never even thought children would be a possibility in that respect, and yet here I stand, on the precipice, awaiting what lies below."

"How poetic," Hera noted. "And I will not belittle you and say that your worries have no merit. They are perfectly reasonable, and anyone who is a good person would have them. That is how I know you will do your very best."

Ashton snorted. "Well, at least someone has confidence."

"Confidence born of experience," Hera replied with a smirk. "I am almost one hundred years old, Ashton. I may not look it, but you also will not look much different in a hundred or so years, and neither will I, Goddess willing. I have seen these things countless times. I believe it will turn out alright for you and Seiros."

Ashton looked down, sighed, and nodded again.

"I knew finding and talking to you would be a good decision," Ashton said. "I'm glad I decided to help out with the wounded today. It's strange but, ever since I received my Crest, it has been easier than ever to heal people."

"So, you did not merely seek me out?"

"I kept forgetting, didn't I tell you?" Ashton snorted. "Either that or I kept putting it off for later. Like I said, being a part of the Knights or the Imperial army will do that."

"Well, I sincerely hope we can have conversations like these more often, Ashton," Hera said, walking past him. "It was good to finally speak with you again after so long!"

As she walked away, Hera heard Ashton mutter something under his breath.

"What was that?" she said suddenly, turning around.

Ashton waved a hand. "Nothing. Just, thank you, for that. I did not want to tell Seiros about that; she was dealing with her own demons before. No need to burden her with my own."

Hera raised a brow out that, but said nothing, and the two went there separate ways.

Macuil had seen the ships of Nemesis sail off into the ocean, out of reach.

Or perhaps not. If Macuil shed his human form, he could follow them as the Wind Caller, the feathered dragon, and sink their ships, destroy all that made them who they were, and send the accursed monstrosities they wielded deep below the waves, not to be seen again forever.

But Macuil knew better.

Nemesis was strong, and his Elites were of comparable strength. Even one such as Saladin, a mere child compared to his progenitors, was an incredible fighter, and the Elites themselves were beyond even him. He would not attack them without the help of his fellows, and they would not reveal themselves so readily.

All except Seiros, perhaps, and speaking of, Macuil could sense her approach. The woman could move fast when she wished – not but a few days prior she had been in Enbarr, no doubt coddling the lost pup she picked up off the side of the road. Something was different about her, however, as she came upon Macuil among his army, escorted by a platoon of her personal knights, causing gasps and prompting several of the priests to bow. Macuil himself couldn't help but scoff at their reverence. If only they knew the truth.

Once they were alone, Macuil spoke first.

"I had not expected to be visited by the great and powerful Seiros on this eve," Macuil said, his voice nearly toneless. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my fellow?"

"Macuil," Seiros replied icily, her ornate decorations upon her armor and the robe underneath glinting in the sunlight. It was a shame that they were camped in such a bright location, Macuil thought. It would have been better to be in a dense forest, so as to avoid such annoyances. "I require something of you."

"Is my being a warden not enough for you?" Macuil replied bitterly. "You charged me with overseeing the northern fortress city of Fhirdiad, did you not? Or have my ears finally failed me?"

"I ask that you cull your tongue," Seiros said, a hint of a growl entering her voice. Good, Macuil thought, just what he was looking for. "My tactician, my weaponsmith, I require a weapon of you."

"I have already designed an axe, that one for the runt of Gloucester," Macuil waved off. "I had it sent with a courier. If you are here, perhaps it has already been delivered."

Seiros shook her head. "This is different. I want one attuned to my crest. A hammer. One that will smite my enemies and keep its user safe."

Macuil raised a brow, his mind deciphering what she truly meant. It only took him a moment to connect the dots. When he did, he let out a laugh.

"Now!" Macuil chortled. "Now, this! This is glorious! I almost suspected you did not have it in you, Seiros!"

"Macuil," Seiros said, her voice low. "Do not."

"You need not worry. I did not raise a fuss with Hera, I will not reveal your secret here, Seiros," Macuil waved a hand, still chuckling to himself. "So, I suppose I will need to deal with that lost fool for much longer than anticipated. Or at least, until this war is at an end. My, but it cannot be stressed enough, this was something I never thought you would do. I suppose Wilhelm will need to turn his nose elsewhere?"

If looks could kill, then Seiros would have slaughtered Macuil a dozen times over. Truthfully, it only amused the cynical saint, but he would do as he was bid.

"I can have it at the capital within a week or so, if Fhirdiad does not mind a small show of light. Sometimes I believe these humans are almost intelligent, until they request someone to deal with the 'flickering will-o-the-wisps that stalk the fields at night'. Superstitious nonsense."

"Good," Seiros nodded. "Then my business here is concluded."

"Would you like to stay for a spot of tea, perhaps?" Macuil drawled. "I am sure I could have one of these useless fools prepare it. They are good for that much, at least."

"I pray that one day, you learn to love again, Macuil," Seiros replied, turning around. "Goodbye."

Macuil shrugged, a placid expression on his face. "You know as well as I that no one answers prayers anymore, Seiros."

Seiros stopped, and turned around to glare at Macuil, her eyes slitted and on full display.

"Do not test me," Seiros growled. "My patience runs thin."

Macuil smirked. "Very well, Lady Seiros. Oh, but do tell that Easterling that I said 'hello', yes?"

Within moments, Seiros was gone, leaving Macuil alone.

A hammer, is it? Hmph. I have not worked with one before, aside from my own. Perhaps this will not be so unpleasant after all.

Blutgang pulsed in its scabbard, and Maurice could feel his blood boil.

"I told you, young fool," Lamine chided, sitting beside the wounded warlord. The boat rocked, and Maurice's stomach felt like mush within his body. "That flame within you, it burns too bright."

"I will find him," Maurice mumbled, holding his sword close to himself. "I will find him again, and run this sword through his gut, and watch as he dies before me. Then the debt will be paid."

"You are lucky that Nemesis saw you as salvageable," Lamine sighed. "But I will not entertain your delusions. The others are hosting a meeting, and they will continue without you. Try not to expire during the night, Maurice."

When the foul woman left, Maurice could hear it whispering. Was it his weapon, calling out to him? Or was it the stone, engraved within the socket? He could hear it speak to him, calling to him, begging him to be used.

But it would have to wait.

When he returned, all would be as it was. He would destroy that creature, and set himself on the path he always dreamed of. Even if that dream was such a distant thing, only half-remembered, he would attain it.

I will be back. I will not die until our fight is finished.

Ashton.

One last glimpse at a life that ended over a thousand years ago. Rather bittersweet but we have some shit to get through before we go back to the present. This'll hopefully be the last short-ish Chapter; Chapter 16 is already 3k words long and isn't even halfway done yet lol.

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See you guys next time!