Author's Notes: These notes are lengthier than I wanted, but I felt some of them were necessary.

Celestial Exodus- I have responded to most of this via a reply to you, but there are some things that I think are important for everyone to read. You are 100% correct on Dycedarg's actions – they don't fit his character. I was actually hoping that somebody would bring this up. The reasoning will be revealed soon. I appreciate the con-crit, and at some point, I will probably review the previous chapters and look at possible revisions.

For everyone – chapters have been going up at an astonishing rate, I know, but I had the first several already planned. They'll probably slow down soon after the introspections, and the actual storyline goes into full progression.

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Rikk sat far from the fire. His cloak was pulled up, his hood cloaking his face. This was not unusual, as the young holy knight was typically covered in such a fashion. He shivered in the night, not for the chill, but for sheer rage. Alyssa was saved; that was the most important thing. His father however, one of the few people to show him kindness, was gone, murdered by the pompous Beoulve brat.

The young man felt little in the way of sorrow; his grief was portrayed in a channeled, destructive force of anger. Why he had allowed Daryn to talk him down from tracking down and killing Dycedarg on the spot, the holy knight would never understand. The traitorous bastard had stabbed his father and was going to torture and kill Alyssa. How could Daryn pardon such an act?

Rikk was not stupid. He knew his reaction was irrational, and it would have resulted in little more than his own death. Letting his anger continue unabated would cause problems, and so Daryn's closest friend allowed his mind to wander, and it latched onto the one thing that made Rikk happy: his adopted sibling, Alyssa.

The two had grown up together, raised in Orbonne Monastery. Many there were of noble birth, and treated Rikk as less than a piece of meat to feed to their hunting dogs. Alyssa was different, though. She had always shown him kindness; indeed, she always showed kindness to everyone. It was disconcerting in a way, how she managed to show this unconditional love and trust of every person that she came in contact with. Heart and soul, the girl was just a good person, and Rikk admired that. It was a feat he could never accomplish himself, and he knew it.

His anger began to melt at even the thought of Alyssa. Turning his head slightly, his eyes caught her sleeping form, and a small smile played at his lips, shaded as they were under the cloak. She had that effect on him, even when she wasn't trying. She was the only one who could ever calm his fits of anger, although Daryn could at least talk sense into the brash youth. Slowly, he turned his face away once more, sated for several moments before his mind turned once again to Dycedarg.

Almost immediately, the animosity returned in full force. Rikk's father had been a good man, showing little care for the young man's prior social status, instead caring for his ideals and dedication. That was the reasoning behind him adopting Rikk, and the holy knight would never forget that. It had been three years ago, when the forward force of the Hokuten had taken heavy losses during a battle. Orbonne Monastery allocated support, sending some of their acolytes to aid in the healing, along with a proper protection force for the journey. Alyssa was an acolyte, Rikk a guard.

The necessity of having a strike force of guardians proved all too true during the journey, as brigands attacked their meager camp in the middle of the night. The bandits were all too common, taking advantage of supply routes and minimal military staffing due to the war. Nonetheless, the nerve of attacking a camp of servants of the Cloth… well, it was in the past now. Still, Rikk's form quivered slightly at the thought.

Most of the swordsman had immediately engaged their foes, but Rikk moved directly to find Alyssa, his sense of loyalty overwhelming that of duty. He found her struggling to shield her guards with protective magic as a troupe of wizards, similarly protected by armed and armored brigands, rained destruction into the forces of the monastery.

He only had a glimpse of light as warning before he dove into his childhood friend, knocking her away. Pain and burning flashed through his body, and he didn't awake until several days later. Afterwards, the young holy knight was adopted into the nobility. The teasing from his peers didn't stop; indeed, it probably grew worse. But now he had a title. No longer was he a lapdog. And nobody would ever question his ability to protect Alyssa.

That was his duty now, all he cared about. As long as she was safe, he was alright. That was why he had ignored Daryn the day prior. Those that were dying to the arbalesters meant nothing to Rikk; the only thing that was of the slightest significance was the saving his little sister. Or rather, that was the only item of importance, before they ran into Dycedarg.

Rikk grit his teeth as the scene of the day before played through his every thought; his body quaked in sheer rage at what Beoulve had done. That little fucking prick had dared to lay a hand on his sister, and thought that he could get away with killing his father? Rikk would kill the snot-nosed little piece of shit, and he would enjoy it. It would not be quick. It would not be painless. He swore, then, that when Dycedarg paid for his actions, for tearing apart Rikk's entire life, that he would feel every piece of unimaginable agony that the Beoulve had put those four people through on that day. Except a few hours would not be the length of Rikk's plans; nay, he would draw it out for days, weeks, if he could.

Rikk would have went after Dycedarg immediately had they not been so rudely interrupted by a giant flying boulder. Even after this altercation in his passion-driven plans, had Daryn not had the audacity to calm the man, he would have been chasing after Dycedarg even now. How could the knight do such a thing? His brother had been mutilated and murdered as well – hell, Daryn had buried him. Still, he managed to convince Rikk to not pursue Dycedarg Beoulve.

Damn Daryn. He had hit every little button on Rikk that he knew: Alyssa's protection, loyalty to his friends, everything. He never said anything about Dycedarg's house, or the futility of pursuit; for how pissed Rikk was at the knight, he could not forget that Daryn knew his team well, and knew what to say, and indeed, what not to. He cursed Daryn again, anger still quivering through his bones.

What were they to do now? Were they to hide like dogs, treated as criminals and outcasts because they had been betrayed? Of course they were. Rikk would see an end to that, though. Oh, he would indeed. And that end would come with the slow, painful death of Dycedarg Beoulve. The holy knight swore, swore to God, that whatever happened, it would end with his blade and his enemy's flesh, Daryn's thoughts notwithstanding.

Rikk was the last to move when the sun broke the horizon. He heard the shuffling behind him, the others moving to break camp. His ears picked up on Alyssa stretching and yawning, and he could imagine her rubbing the sleep from her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the morning sun. He'd keep her safe. He had to keep her safe. Slowly, purposefully, he stood, forcing his body to stop responding to the anger that ran its course through his blood. Eventually, he began to aid in the breaking down of the camp. He'd keep her safe. And he'd make sure she was safe, always, by slaying Dycedarg Beoulve.