Chapter 30: Separation

Author's Note: I'm done with my first year of college, so, hopefully, I can finish this up without any more distractions. I'm going to try to have this finished before Chapter 1's first birthday.

"…and I thought, 'So this is death. It's not so bad. The next thing I know, I'm waking up and looking at a bunch of beards. That was a couple of years ago."

The group around the fire stayed quiet as they somberly digested Elpida's past.

Finally, Raine said, "It doesn't make sense, Elpida. Why were you put in that Exsphere cave?"

"I don't know," the angel admitted. "Maybe it's because I'm so compatible with Exspheres." She shrugged.

She met the group stare. "What?"

"How do you know how compatible you are with Exspheres?"

"There was a party in Palmacosta after I gave my first sermon. I found Yuan and slipped a little something into his drink and he became very talkative. He's so adorable when he's drugged," she added with a sunny smile.

They had all suspected that Elpida was more devious than she'd previously let on, but suspicion did not come close to the truth.

"So now you know my story," she said. "What do w do now?"

They turned to Lloyd. He seemed not to notice. "These men were mercenaries and they had Exspheres. I think they were working for Joseph. We don't know where he is, so I think we should split up and check out different areas of this half of the continent and see if we can find anything."

"How will we get around?" Genis demanded. "The mana's not thick enough for us all to go different ways with the Rheairds. We need Sheena for those, remember?"

"That's easy. We go around the continent. One group will check out the area around here, the second will check around Hima, and the third will use the Rheairds and cover the northern chunk of the continent."

"Three groups and three people to a group?" Raine asked curiously.

"Sure. One fighter, one magic-user, and one healer per group," Lloyd said promptly.

"Wonders never cease," Raine murmured. "He's learned strategy."

"Sheena?" Lloyd asked. "Who do you want to go with on the Rheairds?"

Sheena glanced at the faces. "You and Zelos."

The remaining six immediately went into a discussion. "Hey, Bone Dome," Elpida said. "You're with me."

"I can heal some," Athan volunteered.

"Then come with me and Presea," Genis told him.

Raine walked over to Elpida and Ribs. "It seems I'm with you."

Elpida put on her best pout. "Is that so bad?"
"Not at all. I have questions for both of you."

"Right, gang." Lloyd stood up. "Let's get some sleep and tomorrow we'll split up."

A few days later, Genis woke up. For a moment, he thought it was still dark. However, a glance towards the east told him that it wasn't far until the sun peaked over the horizon. He might even be the first one up.

The half-elf rose to his feet, and scratched at his chin as he savored the silence. A metallic clink turned him around.

Athan was standing at an angle to a rock. He'd propped a small mirror against a dip in the surface and the monk was peacefully shaving with an old cutthroat razor.

"Pfft. Morning."

"Good morning," Genis said as he watched. He scratched an itch on his chin, thinking Athan looked strange with white foam on his face.

"You're up early," the monk noted.

"I went to sleep early last night." The half-elf had been tired. Their group had volunteered to make a loop around the area and then go to Asgard; there had been a lot of walking.

"Mmmhmm."

"Where'd you get that?" Genis asked, afire with curiosity.

Athan finished a stroke before saying, "What, this shaving set? It was my dad's, and when I was old enough, my mother gave it to me."

Genis watched the straight razor glide up the neck, follow the curve of the jaw, and move up a cheek.

Athan rinsed it in a small bowl of water after he was done. He dabbed at his face with a little towel, checking the mirror to make sure he got all the remnants of foam. He glanced at Genis. "You keep scratching your chin. Why?"

"It itches," Genis said, scratching harder.

Athan moved closer. "Let me see." He ran an experimental thumb across the bottom of Genis' chin, feeling very short, fine,hairs that were impossible to se. The monk grinned suddenly. "Congratulations. You're growing a beard."

"It's annoying," Genis said.

"Then I believe you're due for your first shave, then. Come on, you can use my set."

"Don't rush," Athan said. "Shave when there's not much chance there will be a crisis or a loud noise, so you don't rush and cut yourself." He passed the little sharpening stone a few times over the already slick blade. "Keep a sharp razor, too. And for Martel's sake, don't put the razor to any skin without lather on it. You'll peel your skin off, otherwise."

Then the monk watched as Genis hesitantly shaved himself. When the maturing young man was about halfway finished, Presea padded over to watch. It wasn't a bad first attempt at shaving, and the bleeding stop after Athan laid a hand on his shoulder, concentrated, and said, "There."

Athan began to clean and pack up the little kit. "Where do we go today?" he asked without looking up.

Presea, almost absently, ran a hand along Genis' freshly-shaven chin. She pulled her hand away when he blushed. "We're closed to Asgard and haven't seen anything. We may as well go there and take the time to restock. " She wrinkled her nose. "And we all need a bath. You two are starting to smell."

Athan grinned. "No, Presea. You're starting to smell. We're starting to stink."

The walk to Asgard wouldn't have been so bad, except the morning heated rapidly, and there was no breeze. Athan seemed unaffected, apart from the sweat rolling down his face and sometimes dripping off the end of his nose. Genis panted sometimes, but he found he could keep going by simply not thinking about it. Presea, however, had been raised in the coolness of Ozette. She bore the heat in stoic silenc, but she was looking forward to Asgard and its perpetual cool wind.

The trio knew immediately something was wrong. The city seemed unusually empty, and a somewhat slapdash gate had been installed in the only path to the city. A bored-looking man in mismatched armor rose from a chair. "State your names and business."

Athan spoke quickly, before the other two. "Athan Donu, Genis Sage, and Presea Combatir, here to stay at an inn."

"That expensive inn is now the home of Damien," The official went on, "ruler of this district."

"Oh, I'm sorry, but we've just sailed back here from a trip to Tethe'alla. When did the change of government occur?"

"When Lord Joseph established him as ruler of Sylvarant and divided this continent into districts."

"Thanks. You've been helpful." Athan dipped a hand into a pocket, coming out with a handful of Gald.

The man showed a bit of interest for the first time and reached for the tip.

Athan punched him with his free hand. He dropped the Gald onto the man's comatose form. Then the monk rounded on his companions. "Get your weapons ready. Now."

Genis unfurled his whip while Presea unshouldered the Gaia Cleaver.

Athan popped his knuckles, then turned his attention to the little gat. His slanted eyes narrowed. A punch smashed a pole, sending splinters flying from the break. A kick snapped another one. The monk demolished the gate and came through, his face a grim mask.

Several armor-clad me were rushing towards them. Athan counted nine before they stopped in front of the group. One shouldered his way to the front. "You're under arrest for crimes against the Asgard district. Drop your weapons!"

Athan's grin spread almost from ear to ear. "Don't have any." He spun and lashed out with a foot. The kicked snapped the man's arm to an odd angle, and then Athan, Genis, and Presea were rushed by the others.

"What do you think you're doing?" Genis demanded as he snapped his whip out. The weapon curled around the soldier's sword several times. The man tried to jerk his sword back as Genis hauled on the whip.

Two pieces of sword fell to the ground.

"He pissed me off," Athan answered as he punched a deep dent into a breastplate and the chest behind it. He heard a wet crunch and whirled around to see Presea jerk her axe out of the chest of a man who had been sneaking up.

Genis lashed out with his whip, the dense line of mythril cutting through the mercencary's breastplate even as it sliced through miscellaneous organs. The half-elf snapped his arm out, muttering a quick chant, then leveled a hand at mercenary approaching.

The spell Grave activated right under him, causing quite a mess.

The fight was brutal and one-sided. Athan took out the last two by grabbing a man's arm and whirling around twice to build up momentum.

The man's flight carried him into a comrade, who had the misfortune to be standing on the edge of the canyon that bordered the city. Athan watched the pair go over almost clinically. "That's all of them."

Presea hit his arm, and then pointed. "More are coming!"

Inside the Cool Breeze inn, a mercenary hammered at the door to a room. "Lord Damien!"

When that failed to produce results, he steeled himself, and went in.

Damien was asleep in his bed. The soldier knew that Damien rarely left his room before noon, but he had never imagined that his commander spent the time sleeping in!

He shook Damien's shoulder. "Wake up, sir!" He glanced sharply at the nightstand, where Damien's whip was laying. Had it moved just then? He shook off the thought. "Sir, wake up! There are intruders!"

He finally lost patience with his gently snoring commander. "Get up you damn lazy—"

Damien's golden-glowing eyes opened into instant alertness. A hand snatched up the handle of the whip.

The soldier wasn't ever sure what happened next. Damien's arm stayed where it was, but the end of that thick whip snapped over like a striking scorpion.

Damien watched his underling collapse to his knees, and the man's head drop onto Damien's chest, with the end of the whip still touching his forehead.. "That was excessive," he murmured, though he didn't sound upset.

The whip's end curled back from where it had struck the man's forehead, the several-inch-long, knife-shaped stinger coming out bloody.

The thought came into Damien's mind. Hunger. The end of the whip trailed slowly across the floor, leaving a light scratch across the wooden boards.

"You will be sated with these intruders," Damien promised as he pushed the dead man off of him.

The thought next was an imperative. Kill.

The six inches of white bone, angled and slender like a single-edged knife, began to drip a clear fluid from its point, drawing a sizzling line across the floor.