Yuan's words echoed in Kratos' mind, painfully. He fully deserved Yuan's rebuke, but it had indeed taken him by surprise. He wasn't sure which distressed him more: his own behavior or the fact that Yuan attacked him with that.

Kratos went over the argument in his head once again, trying to figure out where and why he lost his temper. He was annoyed almost beyond endurance with the way Yuan was behaving like a lovesick puppy with Martel and told him so. "Jealous?" Yuan countered, playfully.

"Absolutely not. We just don't have the time or freedom to entertain a courtship right now. Wait until we've formed the pacts, at least."

"Wh- I'm not courting her, Kratos!" Defensive, and justifiably. Kratos' words had been spat out in disgust. "What's wrong with being friendly?"

"You're being more than friendly!" Kratos snapped back.

"What's gotten into you, Kratos? Knock it off!"

"I'd ask you what's gotten into you," Kratos snarled, "except I know already! This isn't the manor out in the middle of nowhere, being pampered and spoiled by your parents and getting anything you want!"

"Pampered and spoiled by my parents? At least I was wanted by them!"

That's right, Kratos, the knight thought bitterly. You're not wanted, and don't you forget it again.

The knight seriously considered returning, and apologizing. That would probably be for the best; he said he'd help Mithos and he needed to, unless they disowned him. It was better to do it and get it over with than to put it off. That decided, Kratos stood and tried to orient himself again. It was dark by now, and although he didn't have any trouble seeing, he was no longer sure what direction he had come from.

It took the knight only a few moments to find a clearing in the trees and use the stars to get his bearings. Once he was pointed in the right direction, he imagined the trek would be swift. However, when the bushes moved unexpectedly, Kratos drew his sword, automatically, staring into the bush intensely. "You gave yourself away," Kratos called, his voice not betraying any of the inner turmoil he felt. "Show yourself!"

The response was a whimper, inhuman and pained. The bushes moved again, and this time a paw stuck out of the bushes and tried to pull a body forward, but failed. A wounded animal?

Still cautious, Kratos crept forward and moved the branches of the bushes out of the way. The creature whimpered and recoiled as Kratos looked on it, eyes wide. It was rather small, a puppy, with light blue fur and large, floppy ears that no dog would have. It took Kratos a moment, but he finally identified the creature as a Protozone. They were magical creatures, fiercely loyal… and being killed off in the war, because both sides were using them in battles.

Kratos also saw why the pup was whimpering. Its left front leg was bent at an odd angle, swollen and bloody. The knight sheathed his sword and knelt to examine the creature; it growled softly at him and snapped its jaws at his hands as he reached for the leg. Knowing it was intelligent, and understood at least some human language, Kratos scolded, "Stop that. I want to help you."

It seemed to understand him, and stopped growling. Kratos very gingerly touched the injured leg, testing the bone. The Protozone yelped and the knight withdrew his hands, looking at it grimly, trying to piece together in his head what could have injured the creature so badly. That looked almost like a wound a hunter's trap would inflict. The thing had probably gotten caught, but managed to get itself out. It dragged itself away and into the bushes, so that the hunter, when he or she returned, wouldn't be able to find it.

In any event, Kratos wouldn't be able to move it in the condition it was in. "I have to splint your leg," Kratos told the thing quietly, "and then I would like to take you to Mesanton, to see if there's a doctor who can treat animals. Splinting your leg will hurt," Kratos warned. "Will you let me do it?"

The creature's response was to nuzzle its nose under Kratos' hand and nudge him. Taking that as an affirmative, Kratos gathered a few sticks that were straight enough to work, and pulled up a vine to bind them to the creature's leg. He cut the vine with his sword, and as he worked, he talked to the thing, trying to keep it distracted from the pain. He talked, at first, about his argument with Yuan.

By the time the Protozone's leg was splinted, Kratos had worked out a few things in himself. Yuan's insult had been a defensive response, obviously; driven to outright cruelty by the strain they were all already under. That was probably why Kratos was so surly himself. That had to be it.

The creature's leg was straightened and bound, and Kratos lifted it in his arms easily. There was no way it would be able to walk all the way to Mesanton. As he walked, he realized a serious problem. "I don't know what to call you," Kratos mused. "Do you have a name?" Of course, the creature didn't respond to him, just whuffed softly and nuzzled the knight's arm. "It's said that the first beings on this world were Protozones," Kratos continued musing to himself. "What was the ancient Elven word for that? Noishe, I think…"

The creature barked, a young, impish sound that seemed to Kratos to sound like a noise of pleasure. "You want to be called that? Noishe?" Again, the creature barked, sounding happy, and Kratos smiled. "Nip my arm if I'm wrong and you don't like that name."

The creature repeated its happy bark. Kratos laughed, his dreary mood forgotten momentarily. "Noishe it is," he told the thing.

The "conversation" now turned to Tethe'alla, and the circumstances that led the knight to be in Sylvarant. Somehow, having a captive audience to vent everything that happened, and so fast, made the knight feel better, and he suspected that telling Noishe about himself made the creature trust him more. They arrived in Mesanton just after morning; Kratos checked a room and got some information. He rested with Noishe until the innkeeper told him that the doctor would be accepting patients.

Fortunately, the doctor agreed to heal Noishe without hesitation. "This thing should be a national treasure," the Elven doctor told him when Kratos tried to pay. "There are only a handful of Protozones left. Keep your money; my reward is knowing that I'm helping to keep them alive a little longer."

The doctor's healing was complete; the little Protozone pup didn't need a splint any longer. By then it was midday, and Kratos mused about not being hungry or particularly sleepy; instead, he walked through the streets of Mesanton, admiring it. The city was built on a lake, buildings standing on little islands in the middle of it and connected by beautifully crafted bridges. While Triet was his hometown here, Kratos had no desire to return to it; and he had no intention on returning to Tethe'alla, whether he was eventually cleared of the Prince's murder or not.

Perhaps, he thought with a little smile as he leaned against a bridge handrail and two small, laughing children ran past him and Noishe, he'd settle here when this was all over.

The children disappeared on the other end of the bridge and burst into a building; a friend's house, perhaps. Kratos turned his attention back to the serene horizon and his eyes widened as his gaze fixed on something in the distance, and traveling towards them fast. "What the hell-?"


The mood was dark and worried as the half-elves walked. The path to Mesanton was clear, and they moved quickly; nothing was there to obstruct them. A few monsters crossed their paths, but most skittered away, frightened themselves. Yuan and Martel shared a fanciful hypothesis that Kratos had been through and had successfully defended himself against their brothers and sisters, and that was what made them so fearful.

Mithos didn't see the humor in this, at all, and nearly walked into Yuan's arm as they came to a clearing and he thrust it out, halting their progress. "Wait. Something's been here." The blue-haired half-elf ventured into the clearing, moving carefully. "Something more than a monster." He pointed at the base of a tree. "A human sat there a number of hours ago. It looks like the impression is just the right size to be Kratos."

Yuan visualized the scene, trying to place the human knight there and trace his movements. The way the dirt and leaves were disturbed seemed to say that Kratos rose, and started walking back the way they had just come, but something stopped him. What was it?

Martel and Mithos exchanged looks as Yuan traced Kratos' footsteps in the clearing. "I didn't realize you knew tracking," Martel said finally, softly.

"Of course I know tracking," Yuan replied, mildly amused. "I live in the middle of nowhere. Deliveries from Meltokio are quite often delayed. If the household didn't know tracking, we'd have starved to death long ago."

"You need hunting for that," Mithos clipped.

"Not going to catch anything if you can't track it," Yuan retorted, kneeling beside a cluster of bushes and a discoloration on the ground. He scooped some of the discolored dirt up with two of his fingers and examined it. He paled, and then sniffed at it delicately. "Blood."

Martel suppressed a cry of dismay as Yuan stood, wiping his hands on his tunic. "I don't think the blood is Kratos'," he said after a second. His gaze swept over the clearing once more, and he said, finally, "It's not. Kratos came here and stopped to cool himself off. Once he was calm again, he decided to return to us, but there was a wounded animal here; four-legged, probably. The wound was in one of the creature's legs or paws." Yuan pointed at a vine, and continued, "Kratos used some sticks and that vine- you can see, it's been cut with a blade- and splinted the wound. He probably felt that it was more urgent to get the animal to a doctor than to return to us, and went ahead to Mesanton with the animal."

"Genius!" Mithos beamed. "How'd you do that?"

"Years of practice," Yuan answered off-handedly, "and I might not be right. Come on; if Kratos is already in Mesanton, he's probably starting to get worried about us. Let's go."

The air of despair lifted, and the half-elves traveled faster than they had before. Mithos' spirits soared; the human hadn't abandoned them. He just helped a being that needed his help more than they did at that moment. Why he cared so much that Kratos hadn't left them behind was a mystery to the young man, but it was one for Mithos to work out later. Now? Now was a time to find the knight and apologize for his horrible behavior towards him.

As they drew nearer to Mesanton, though, their moods drifted down once more; something wasn't right. The closer they got, the clearer their view of the lake city was and the more certain they were that there was something dreadfully wrong. It was finally Yuan who saw it for sure: "The buildings are all ruined…"

Mithos wanted to dash right into the destroyed city; Martel held him back. After a quick discussion, they moved forward slower, with Yuan in front, his butterfly blade held at ready. Martel followed behind her little brother, her staff in her hands and prepared to cast any spells she had to.

Mithos himself did not draw a weapon, and his older companions didn't ask him to. He preferred to fight with magic. It was less likely he'd hit one of his companions, in this set up, and besides, he was embarrassed by the toy. He wanted a sword.

Indeed, the city was a ghost town; it appeared as though a hurricane had ripped through it. Yuan was the one who spotted the injured swordsman, and dashed to him with a cry. With Yuan out of the way, Martel and Mithos could both see what distressed the man so; they joined him, both of them just as fearful for Kratos as Yuan was.

Yuan and Martel fell to their knees beside the battered and torn Knight, and Martel immediately began checking for the worst of his wounds. Their ministrations stirred him from the pained reverie he was in; "Y-Yuan?"

"Don't talk, Kratos," Yuan replied tensely, searching the debris around them for a fairly straight stick. The Knight's arm was broken and needed to be splinted.

Kratos didn't listen. "Th-that wasn't an ordinary storm," he coughed. "Someone attacked this city. Mithos, c-can you communicate with Efreet?"

Kratos' speech was broken by his coughing and gasps of pain. "Will you shut up?" Yuan snapped at him angrily, although his anger wasn't directed at the Knight. Knowing it probably sounded that way, Yuan bowed his head and started working on splinting Kratos' arm. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"For what?" Somehow Kratos managed a smile. Despite the dire circumstances, Martel smiled herself. She had been right after all.

Mithos interrupted them. "Efreet thinks something's gone wrong with Sylph," he told them. "Their summoner tried to do something he couldn't, or tried to do something they didn't have the mana for, or whatever, but they're out of control."

"Sylph did this?" Yuan said in horror.

Kratos tried to speak, coughed, and then rasped, "I'm no summoner, but I don't think that was Sylph."

The conversation was interrupted by a shrill scream. "Damn it!" Kratos cried, and before any of his companions could stop him, he was on his feet and dashing towards the sound of the scream. The others followed, voicing their protests at his actions, in time to see Kratos cut down a monster that was menacing a child. As the thing died and its body fell to the ground and vanished, Kratos yelled again, this time in pain as one of the wounds in his abdomen tore further. "That was stupid," Yuan snapped as he knelt next to his friend once again, examining the makeshift bandage; it was already starting to bleed through again. "Martel!"

"I know," the half-elf woman said softly, kneeling beside Yuan. Once again she laid her hands on Kratos's stomach, a healing spell on her lips.

"Is he… is the boy all right?" Kratos whispered.

"I think so," Mithos replied, staring hard at the raggedy child Kratos rescued. "You're a half-elf," he said to the child in wonder.

The boy's reaction to this revelation was to run. "Wait!" Mithos cried, but the child paid him no heed. Mithos turned to the trio on the ground, stunned. "Did you know he was a half-elf?" Mithos asked.

"It doesn't matter," Kratos wheezed.

"Should we go after him?" Martel asked, concerned.

Yuan shook his head. "He wouldn't come with us anyway. I think he's too afraid of persecution. He looked like he's had to take care of himself for a while, anyway. Things might actually be easier for him without all the people around to harass him."

"We should head for Asgard then," Kratos said, struggling back to his feet. "Sylph's summoner lives there. If Mithos is right and Sylph is out of control, he might need help."

Kratos' plan made sense, but all three of them wondered how Kratos was going to be able to make the journey from the ruined Mesanton to Asgard. Granted, it was only about a half a day's trek, but he was already in bad shape. Yuan and Martel kept their hands on him as he found his balance, and then wondered who Kratos was referring to when he called out, "Noishe! Noishe, where are you? Come back, I got help!"

A loud bark echoed in the empty, devastated streets of Mesanton. All three of Kratos' companions started as a Protozone pup bounded around a corner and down the street, straight for Kratos. The puppy looked like it was about to crash into Kratos' legs, but stopped short, looking up at him and wagging its tail frantically. It yipped a few times, the sound almost having a human quality to it. "We're going to Asgard," Kratos told it. "Do you want to come with?"

Noishe barked and nipped at Kratos' pant leg. "I'll be okay to walk," Kratos said. "We can rest if I need to. Right?" The knight turned to his companions for confirmation, who just nodded numbly. "See? We'll be okay. So are you coming with?"

The Protozone pup yelped, and started towards the southern city exit. "I guess he's coming with," Kratos said with a slight smile. "Let's go."