Chapter 18

Marth quietly shut the door after the healer joined him. Krystal didn't—or couldn't—meet his gaze, and she bit her lip nervously, afraid of whatever accusations she expected him to throw at her. Instead of bitter words, she jumped as she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"You feel guilty," he said; it wasn't a question, but an observation. "Krystal, this isn't your fault. You'll tear yourself apart if you continue to accept blame for actions that weren't your own."

"Abel wouldn't be like this if not for me," she pointed out quietly.

"He also wouldn't be alive now if you hadn't helped Lena heal him," Marth argued. "If this hadn't happened, something else inevitably would have."

Raising her dark eyes to meet Marth's, she bit down on her bottom lip in frustration. "I'm supposed to be strong!" She burst out angrily. "I was too weak to resist the dark magic, and in consequence I did horrible things. How can I say that I have a strong will when I can't even keep control of my own mind?"

In spite of the situation, Marth smiled. "Is that what you're worried about? That people think you're weak?" He shook his head, laughing lightly. "I've seen the way people look at you," he explained himself against her offended stare. "The only thing I see is respect and admiration. The only one who blames you for this is yourself."

Krystal averted her gaze once again, tightly crossing her arms over her chest. As much as she fought it, a little part of her knew he was right. With a sigh, she turned to look at the closed door that led to the room where the sleeping soldier still lay. "I just want them to be well again." She cast a quick glance in Marth's direction. "I don't know if he's told you this, but I often was trapped in the same cell as Cain."

"He did," Marth gave a small nod. "He's credited you with saving his life on more than one occasion."

Her cheeks reddening slightly from the praise, Krystal raised her hand to move a few dark purple strands of hair out of her face. After a moment of hesitation, she continued. "While stuck in there, they did some… pretty horrible things." She shuddered slightly as she spoke, remembering how Cain was often thrown into the cell by the guard's harsh shove, collapsing into puddles of his own blood. Sometimes he wasn't even conscious at the time of return, and Krystal had feared the worst every time she saw his limp body that left trails of dark red stains as it was dragged across the floor.

"Krystal?" She jumped as Marth waved his hand in her face, his expression concerned. "Are you alright?"

Nodding, she swallowed hard. She had spaced out for a moment, caught up in the memories. "Anyway, what I was trying to say was that even though Cain's body might be healing, he might experience exactly what happened to me just now, in thinking about it. However, my memories of it are only secondary, and I can't possibly imagine what he must have had to go through. Something could trigger a flashback, or even if he just thinks about it, it could turn nasty very quickly." Although the hallway was warm, a shiver ran down her spine. "The point is, I think you should keep an eye on him, alright?"

Marth nodded, understanding what she meant. "I'll be on the lookout for anything," he promised her, with an attempt at a reassuring smile. "You could use a bit of rest yourself, you know. There's warm food and drink on the first floor; you deserve a hot meal and a good night's rest. After all, what would we do if the cleric was the one that needed healing?"

Krystal smiled as he respectfully acknowledged her concerns and easily lightened the situation. She knew he was a good speaker, but it still surprised her just how charismatic he could be even in normal conversation. "I guess you're right," she murmured, her expression much more relaxed than a few minutes prior.

"Send Kelgar my way if you see him, would you?" Marth requested, turning to leave.

"Sure. Oh, and Marth?"

"Hm?" The prince glanced back over his shoulder. Krystal hesitated for just a moment, taking a quick but deep breath.

"Thanks."

He grinned at her in response, nodding his head once more. She returned the smile, and watched as he walked down the steps to the floor below. She stood alone in silence for a while, thinking about what Marth had said. With a quiet sigh, she brushed her hair out of her face again and finally descended as well.


Prince Marth sat with his legs crossed at a table in his small room at the inn, papers neatly arranged across the wooden surface. His eyes were narrowed as he studied the maps and documents. A knock at the door stole his attention away from the papers, and he rose from his seat to answer.

The door opened to reveal Kelgar who was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He straightened when he realized his knock had been answered, and cleared his throat. "I heard you wanted to see me?"

Opening the door wider to allow Kelgar to enter, Marth nodded. Quietly shutting it behind him, the purple-haired man stood in the middle of the room, looking around suspiciously.

Marth couldn't help but find Kelgar's awkwardness amusing, and he let out a short laugh as he resumed his seat, comfortably crossing his legs again. He gestured for Kelgar to sit as well.

"What's this about?" Kelgar sat stiffly, eyes narrowed. Ever since he had met the Altean he had wondered how trustworthy he could possibly appear to them; after all, he had worked at an enemy fort for over five years. He constantly worried that they would attempt to label him a traitor, even though he had only been there for his sister's sake. Besides, he never even talked to any of the prisoners that came in there. All he did was guard duty, not—

"No need to be so strained, Kel." Kelgar jumped as Marth interrupted his thoughts. The prince leaned back in his chair to create a less formal atmosphere and hopefully decrease the tension that radiated from the soldier. "I called you here to thank you." Kelgar's eyes widened in genuine surprise as Marth continued. "We would never have been able to rescue Cain without your help." He paused for a moment, his ocean blue eyes studying Kelgar's reactions. "You showed considerable talent with an axe in that fort. We could use a man like you in the League. What do you say?"

Taken aback, Kelgar stammered over his words at first. "I don't mean any disrespect, but I did it for Krystal's sake, not the League's." He scratched the back of his head, thinking about how to phrase his thoughts. "I appreciate the offer, but it's been five years since Krystal and I have seen our home village. Some people are fine with the travelling life of a soldier, but I prefer to live a stable, peaceful life. I've no taste for warfare, you see?" He hesitated again. "Besides, there's uh…" A blush began to rise to his cheeks. "Well, there's a girl I'm a bit sweet on back home," he admitted, a crooked smile working its way onto his face.

Listening calmly to Kelgar's explanation, Marth nodded politely when he finished. "I see; it was worth a shot to ask. In any case, you still have my gratitude." He absentmindedly straightened the papers on the table. "If Abel continues improving at his current rate, we'll be on our way in about three days. You're welcome to change your mind at any time."

Thinking for a moment, Kelgar began to slowly nod his head. "That's around when Krystal and I were planning to head out," he agreed. Glancing down towards the papers, he immediately raised his gaze, not wanting to accidentally see something that wasn't meant for his eyes. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"That was all, thank you," Marth waved his hand lightly in dismissal. "Maybe you could teach Ogma's three men some axe tricks if you've got the time," he suggested, his smile broadening.

As Kelgar stood to leave, he returned the grin. "Maybe, yeah?" He snorted lightly, and gave Marth a respectful bow before leaving the cramped inn room.