Hikaru: School has started, and I will write as I have had for Glow of the Teriques--with a synopsis already in place and such, I will update at the end of each week, no later than two if the chapter or school gives me a little difficulty.

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It was with a sense of purpose that Leneth and Alain headed out into the Triet Desert again, a purpose that went beyond simply reaching the city of Luin in good time. They knew Tethe'alla's goals for the war, and the means of stopping at least one of those many goals was right at their doorstep.

As they traveled throughout the desert, Alain noticed that Leneth was awfully withdrawn. In all his years of knowing Leneth, Alain knew that it was unlike Leneth to keep to himself; usually he and Liath would interact with people at every available opportunity. But a lot had happened since that training day in the Iselia Woods--for the first time Leneth was allowed outside the village, he was separated from his family, and he shouldered quite a heavy burden as war loomed on the horizon.

Leneth had said to Alain before that he knew very little about his parents' history and he would make it his goal to find out about their lives, no matter how long it took. As deeply entangled in the web of world's intrigue Alain knew his parents were, undoubtedly Leneth and Liath's parents had spectacular pasts, certainly not ... ordinary.

Alain had tried asking his parents before what their lives had been like prior to their settlement of Iselia. He knew his mother had lived in Iselia all her life and some point or another journeyed the rest of the world with Leneth's parents and other people, Waltharia's mage teacher one of them. His father merely chuckled and said that Alain wouldn't believe how he lived before if he told him.

But now that Kratos had suddenly revealed the secret of the world's most powerful weapon, Alain had a feeling that their parents would no longer be able to freely keep them blissfully ignorant, no matter how much they wished to.

As Leneth surely had concerns of his own that he would not voice, so Alain did as well. When he had searched in the water a day and a half prior for the Tethe'allan summoner, it seemed as if ... the summoner, Frio, had known he was being searched for. In fact, he seemed to look up from the deck of the ironclad ship he was traveling on, at the sky it had appeared, but to Alain it felt as if Frio were looking directly at him.

"Who are you?" Frio had asked, a mischievous smirk placed on his lips. "Who seeks the summoner Frio L. Kestrel of Tethe'alla?"

He had seemed ... amused, at the very least. He had known that someone had sought him, sought his name, country of origin, and purpose. And he had deliberately answered, all the while smirking.

Alain pondered this as he and Leneth trudged through the impossible sea of sand, due northwest to the Ossa Trail. It would be at least another day or two until the trail, and then a few days more before they got out of the pass. Then it would be on to Izoold ... or past it, depending on the situation there.

The vanguard all over Sylvarant was nothing to sneeze at, but it wasn't to be overestimated, either.

Frio ... he looked ... somewhat familiar. He had short silver hair, blue eyes ... the way he carried himself, his demeanor--and then it hit him. Frio reminded Alain rather forcefully of the man called Genis Sage, Waltharia's teacher in all things related to mana and magick. Were they of blood relation? Or was Alain merely imagining things?

Still, it was hard to get the idea out of his head. Frio looked to be the sort of person who took care only of his own interests and then some, easygoing but certainly not carefree. Cool, almost. He was nothing like the gentle but firm teacher Alain and Waltharia had known in their childhood.

Genis Sage had visited Iselia often when he taught Waltharia the workings of magick. As Withi and her understanding of magick and her abilities to manipulate it grew, Genis visited less and less. He had an ... older sister, Alain thought. Yes, but Raine Sage, a healer, had visited even less often than her brother did. She was a restless researcher with a kind and no-nonsense demeanor, at least she was the last time Alain saw her, and he was still a small child at the time.

Leneth suddenly stopped mid-step. Alain nearly bumped into him but managed not to. It was noon, the sun at its highest peak. Needless to say, the heat was quite stifling.

"What if ... Izoold is under Tethe'allan control by the time we get there?"

Alain almost gaped, and the heat was doing nothing to help his temper.

"You weren't this hesitant back at the city! You were quite insistent on even antagonizing the Tethe'allans when we got there."

"Yeah, but ... now that we're going to the actual place, it's a little unnerving."

Alain nodded, Leneth was right in that regard. Talking about something and then actually facing it were two different matters entirely.

"I'm not doubting it." Leneth said suddenly. "I know we have to go there ... the summoner's going there, too, and we have to keep him away from the Spirits. Who knows where he'll be once we finally reach Luin? Even if you use angel's sight, there's no guaranteeing anything."

Alain narrowed his eyes as he looked to the horizon--still desert, desert, and more desert up ahead. And if they didn't start moving again soon, they'd be stuck in the desert for at least half a day longer than they had to be.

"If Izoold is taken by the time we get there," Alain said carefully, "it's most likely by sea, not land. It would take a few more days for the vanguard at Izoold to fully surrender to Tethe'alla, and that's after they claim the waters around it. As long as we can get past it before they actually land, we should be in the clear."

Leneth grimaced.

"But then we'd have a dagger behind us."

Alain sighed as he started walking again, and to his relief it didn't take Leneth long to follow. War was war, there was no changing that, and there was little two lone teenagers could do on their own. It was especially hard to recognize that they really could do nothing anyway; one of their biggest goals emphasized not getting caught by Tethe'allan forces. Not when another part of the Eternal Sword lay so close within Tethe'alla's reach.

The most concentrated parts of Sylvarant's army--vanguard, more like--were in Luin and Palmacosta, the most developed cities in Sylvarant. Luin, while built on the water, had the most ground forces, and Palmacosta carried the majority of the Sylvarantian Navy, although they were little nothings compared to Tethe'alla's ironclad magitech ships. In the other cities of Sylvarant, the vanguards strengthened the militias, and Alain knew from personal experience how tough they could be.

Iselia's vanguard and militia were, anyway.

Night fell, and they made camp. All the while Alain stressed about the situation at Izoold, and about the summoner. While everything wouldn't necessarily be lost if Frio L. Kestrel managed the pact with Origin, it would be a mighty blow, and make guarding the Eternal Sword all the more important.

Meanwhile, there were more ... immediate concerns. How did Sylvarant plan on winning the war, even if the Eternal Sword were kept out of reach? Tethe'alla was the technological superpower; it would be only a matter of time before Sylvarant would be completely overtaken. Who would protect the Sword then? The elves? But the elves were few and humans, Tethe'allans particularly, many.

Alain heaved a sigh, shifting in his bedroll. Sylvarant was in very deep trouble if this wore on.

Alain himself had said there was nothing they could do about Izoold, even admitted that Tethe'alla winning there was a likelihood, no, a probability. Once Tethe'alla landed their forces there, they had two choices: invade the desert to the west, or head on to the prize of Sylvarant's capital in the north. It was unlikely they would squander their forces by sending half in each direction, if anything Tethe'alla did its deeds systematically, and however long it would take, more troops would be brought in from Tethe'alla's bases.

The thought made Alain's stomach squirm. Systematically Tethe'alla would conquer Sylvarant. If the Latheon forces weren't already massing, eventually they would invade Iselia and push southward, into the desert. Thus, leaving the Izoold forces to push ahead to the capital.

Two birds with one stone. Overwhelm Sylvarant, and easily win the war when the capital was taken.

Easily won.

Alain pounded his forehead with a closed fist, trying to think.

Was this inevitable? The entire time he was growing up, ignorant of the giant right on his doorstep? Had Sylvarant instigated the war during his childhood, or had Tethe'alla only bided its time, waited until the time was right to attack?

He thought.

Tethe'alla's previous king, Queen Hilda's father, had been a sickly man, hardly fit to lead--and win--a war of such scale. Whereas the current king, King Hugh, the king consort of the old king's daughter, was young, vibrant and held in his hands great power. From what Alain had heard about Tethe'alla, it seemed the young king was no fool when it came to ruling--or war.

Sylvarant had been divided during Alain's lifetime, of that he was sure. His parents talked about it often, formally uniting the cities of Sylvarant into one country. This war where great power was not on their side, would truly test the unity of the people of Sylvarant.

But no matter what scenarios Alain envision, no matter how the Luin Council would pull Sylvarant together to fight back, all Alain saw was a dark, turbulent future in Tethe'alla's all encompassing shadow.

Alain's mood improved little, if at all, during the next few days. He was irritable and jittery, jumping at shadows. The intense heat of the desert helped nothing, either.

So early in their journey, and already so severe a change.

Leneth had not thought so far in the future, however. Unlike Alain, he was fretting over what could be done to help the war effort now and still keep their current goals. He knew that any help at all would be most welcome if Tethe'alla truly was as powerful as Alain made it sound.

It was late afternoon by the time they made it to the beginnings of the Ossa Trail. It was deceptively quiet and even though they were only a few hours out of the desert, they already felt a massive change in the climate.

"Finally I can breathe!" Leneth said when they stopped at a stream to rest.

Alain didn't answer as he splashed his face and wet his hair with the cool water. His face was set in a grim countenance. He stared at the rippling water, mentally debating whether or not to search again for the summoner and check on Izoold, or to seek out his sister. No, he decided. Checking on Waltharia and Liath would only draw attention to them, of that he was sure. If Frio had somehow known he watched from so far with angel's sight, perhaps Tethe'alla had such means to track the presence of magickal activities.

If he had to look for something through the water, he might as well watch Frio again.

Alain sighed as he meditated, clearing all worry and concern from his mind. He felt his facial muscles relax, and the tension left his body in an orderly, gradual manner until he thought himself focused enough to see.

Within the water, they looked to be only shadows first, flickering and fleeting, but he held his focus and the shadows were clearer.

Izoold was well within sight of the Tethe'allan fleet, but they no longer approached. They had anchored at a respectful distance, and Alain at once saw why: the vanguard of Izoold had their ships deployed in the bay, and the ground forces were assembled. The battleship Frio was riding was at the forefront of the fleet--the flagship.

Frio looked up again, as he had before, as if sensing Alain watching him.

"Worried for Izoold?" the summoner asked in mock concern, a terrible grin upon his face. Alain's mouth ran dry. "We won't completely obliterate them ... assuming they don't resist when our admiral asks for their peaceful surrender."

Alain's frown deepened. If he could hear the summoner from this end ... could the summoner hear him? He was a summoner, after all, well honed in the ways of channeling mana.

Alain chose to try, and the thought of confusing poor Leneth never even crossed his mind.

"What is your objective, exactly?" Alain murmured.

On the deck of the Tethe'allan ironclad flagship, Frio laughed, although quietly so as not to draw attention to himself.

"Mine? Or Tethe'alla's?"

Alain felt his stomach fall into queasy hell. Frio or Tethe'alla's objective? As in separately, not one and the same?

The prospect was almost as scary as the thought of Old Mizuho acting on its own in regards to attacking New Mizuho.

"You have ambitions of your own?" Alain demanded, and didn't notice the bewildered look Leneth gave him.

On the ship, Frio shrugged.

"Tethe'alla itself wants only to win this war. The people of Tethe'alla despise you Sylvarantians. But there is gain to be had in Sylvarant--your rural ways left many natural resources available for use, and Tethe'alla with its heavy industrialization can use them effectively."

Alain set his mouth in a thin line. It was just as Kratos said: Tethe'alla wanted Sylvarant's natural resources to fuel its industrialized economy.

"You couldn't just ask nicely?" Alain muttered bitterly.

Frio laughed more loudly this time, attracting curious glances his way from the deckhands.

"As if Sylvarant would have easily offered trade with Tethe'alla. Sylvarant may be divided, but it is not run by fools. They would know Tethe'alla wanted what it had, and would have bargained so that they profit and we wouldn't. But Tethe'alla will have Sylvarant and more."

Frio was that confident in Tethe'alla's ability to win the war. Alain didn't doubt it either.

"What are you after, Frio?"

Frio drummed his fingers rhythmically on the deck railing of the battleship. He looked on as a lifeboat was sent from the flagship to the Izoold vanguard's front line of ships. Alain knew what this was: the messengers that would ask the Izoold fleet's flagship for a peaceful surrender.

"For the record," Frio said airily, "only the king and I know of what you Sylvarantians are guarding so jealously."

"Wait!" Alain said breathlessly; he sensed Frio pushing him away, forcibly severing their connection. "What pacts with which Spirits have you made! Frio!"

But it was too late--Alain was physically thrown back from the small riverbank, landing on his back.

Alain blinked, dizzy. The sky above was tinted pink and orange and gold--sunset. How long had he been entranced in the vision?

He saw Leneth hovering over him, and he looked angry.

"What the hell was that?" Leneth demanded as he helped Alain to sit upright.

Alain made his way to the stream again, splashing his face with water. It helped calm him.

"I saw Frio again. It seems the fleet's already met with the Izoold vanguard."

Leneth blanched quite visibly; they were on Izoold's doorstep.

"I don't hear any cannon fire," he offered somewhat lamely.

Alain shook his head.

"Battle hasn't started yet. Last I saw, the admiral of the fleet sent a boat of messengers to the Izoold flagship asking for a peaceful surrender."

And Alain had a gut feeling that the Izoold fleet and vanguard wouldn't back down so easily in the face of the obviously more powerful Tethe'allan fleet. Ironclad magitech battleships! Outnumbered and outgunned! Alain drew in a deep breath.

"Could we stop it?!" Leneth blurted out.

Alain stared at Leneth incredulously before he remembered that Leneth couldn't use the angel's sight. He had not seen what Alain had.

"I don't think we'll even get there in time to stop the battle. In the case that the ships are battling when we pass through, it'd be better to just ... move on."

Leneth gritted his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

"What about ... that summoner? Frio?" he ground out. "Couldn't we, I dunno, put him out of action?"

Alain glared, jaw set. "No. Frio is on the flagship of the fleet attacking Izoold. There's no way we could go after him without getting caught, and there's a good chance Frio might even be hoping to lure us in a trap. Better to move on quickly."

"Alain!" Leneth protested, but Alain cut him off.

"War is war, Leneth! I don't know about you, but I for one have enough sense about me to know the difference between what we want to do, and what we need to do. And right now, the need is more paramount."

Leneth clamped his mouth shut, fists clenched and shaking at his sides.

Alain had not readily believed it; Leneth was a ninja trained in New Mizuho, but … he had heard it often said from his parents that Leneth was very much like his father. Perfect morals and sense of justice, with virtually no wit about him to give thought to the immediate consequences of his actions, no matter how noble they were.

Liath, on the other hand, was more like her grandfather, Kratos. Had that been why Kratos had deigned to send her into the more dangerous path, leaving Leneth under Alain's eye? That certainly seemed like it.

But thinking of Liath made Alain think of Waltharia, and that made him uneasy at the least. Like their mother, Waltharia had a kind heart and a wish to be all the help she could be, but like Leneth, would be dangerous if she acted on her own. Good thing Liath was there to keep her safe.

Alain turned away from Leneth, beginning to set up camp; at sunset it was too late to continue traveling, and the mountain paths were dangerous at night. But it seemed Leneth had also inherited his father's hell-bent innate stubbornness.

"Are you saying we should condemn Izoold to Tethe'alla?"

Alain pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dig up his beaten and worn patience.

"Lenethano," he said sternly, "I will not have his conversation over and over if you in your heart doubt my intentions."

Leneth had fallen into hellish silence after that. It was a relief, but also a worry—it was not in Leneth's nature to clam up.

But as Alain finished setting up camp and the nighttime darkness fell over, all he could think of was the summoner Frio, and that malicious smirk of his.