It was late afternoon by the time they emerged from the mountain path. Darien led the way, still weary from their battle earlier, but eager to catch up with Mercedes. The pawns were alert as ever, but had been relatively quiet since leaving the cottage. Darien thought they might have been perturbed by what they learned from the two nameless gentlemen. She, on the other hand, had far too many questions to be concerned about an unknown order bitter toward a figure from legend; even if she was this person.

Darien looked ahead and paused. The horizon seemed to disappear before them. She jogged forward and stared down at the plains below.

The realm of Gran Soren was vast, and stretched far below Darien and the pawns. The grey clouds shadowed the lands, letting through only thin rays of sunlight. There were grassy plains that varied between hills and flatness. Trees and thick bushes dotted the land, and a river snaked in a wide, half circle across the territory.

Most impressive, however, was the stone castle resting upon the wide hill in the middle of it all. Gran Soren, the capital city of Gransys. From where they stood, Darien saw that the castle's outer wall was the shortest, albeit still massive. Beyond the first layer was another, but taller and consisted of high towers. There were more walls within, but paled in comparison to the center, where the main castle stood in the back, towering above the rest. Gran Soren's numerous ensigns waved in the breeze.

In the near vicinity of the capital were square acres of crop fields and grape orchards. There were smaller structures near the castle's walls; decrepit walls and houses which seemed to have sustained damage long ago, as if the capital itself was once larger.

Darien felt the vastness of Gransys like a wave from the Cassardis sea. She was overwhelmed and enthusiastic at once, and it wasn't unlike the same euphoria she felt when she faced the dragon.

Darien glanced at Rook who stared evenly at the land below. She turned toward her pawn. Zillah's face held the familiar indifference she normally wore, but Darien swore there was something, a gleam, in the archer's eyes. And the way the pawn just stared at the land below – lacking will or no, she was reacting.

Darien felt a smile spread across her face.

"Arisen!"

Rook tapped her shoulder and then gestured to the path ahead of them. "One of captain's men, Master."

Two knights jogged up to them. Darien instantly recognized one as Ser Georg.

"Arisen," he said, "I'm pleased you still draw breath." He shook her hand. "The captain had to keep moving whilst the hydra's blood drew the beasts, but she ill liked the idea of entering Gran Soren without you. And so did we."

Ser Georg led Darien and the pawns to the rest of the company. The group had rested near the front gate, positioning themselves behind one of the tall, crumbling walls so they couldn't be seen from across the plains – bandits were a problem even this close to the city's walls.

The men cheered at Darien's approach. Some were injured, but well supported by their comrades.

Mercedes gave the slightest grin. "Good of you to join us, Arisen. I worried your heroics might have ended your journey."

"If I'd known my plan would work so well," Darien said, "I might have reconsidered."

"I've yet to discern if you are plagued by ill luck or fortune."

Darien shrugged. "I'll let you know as soon as I do."

The captain faced the knights. "Come, men! The capital awaits us."

She turned, and led the company over the stone bridge before the gate. It was bigger up close, and Darien had to tilt her head back to see it in its entirety. The twin set of doorways opened inward into Gran Soren.

Darien noticed that even the weariest knight lifted his head upon entering the capital. The stone-paved streets were wide, enough for the ox and cart to pass with the soldiers marching alongside. There were buildings of different sizes, all architecturally similar, but some appeared newly built while others seemed as old as the outer wall.

A small crowd gathered around them, each pushing to get a closer look at the hydra's head. Darien didn't know what she expected of them, Gran Soren folk. Many of them lacked the sun-touched skin that Cassardis folk did, and their clothing was different.

Darien noticed those few people in the second story buildings watch them through opened windows. The group entered a circular clearing where a stone fountain was centered. A few small stands were set up, although the owners had abandoned them to watch the company walk by.

Mercedes stopped and let the group move on ahead. She turned toward Darien. "I'll make for the castle directly to offer my report to His Grace. I'll have word sent for you, friend. Pray, sojourn in the capital awhile."

"I think I'll do just that," Darien said.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Darien and the pawns got lost amongst the streets. Rook tried at first to inform the Arisen of certain key points in the city and its history, but grew silent when he must have realized that his words fell on deaf ears. Zillah stared quietly at her surroundings, but Darien guessed her pawn was soaking in the sights just as much as her.

Soon the sky grew dark, and the air cooler. Darien leaned against the side of the massive wall near the fountain square. She just realized the ache in her feet, and the slight sting of her wounded shoulder when she stretched her arms.

Rook was the one to suggest they head to the inn before nightfall, but by the time they found what they were looking for, the streets had emptied. Darien couldn't read the signs in the dark, but Zillah managed to make out the Union Inn with her uncanny eyesight.

Darien pushed the right of the two doors opened and stepped in. The open room was lit by candlelight. Directly across from the entrance was the reception desk. To the left was what Darien assumed to be the tavern where tables and chairs sat near a fireplace. To the right of the desk was a hallway leading to the guest rooms.

The front desk was unmanned. Darien looked at the back room and then turned toward the right, where there was a dark hallway. "Hello?"

Not five seconds passed when a man came swiftly from the back room. He had sleek, tan skin with slight traces of stubble across his mouth. Despite the late hour, he was dressed well, in a tan, unbuttoned coat and a white cravat around his neck.

"I apologize, ser," he said, moving behind the front desk. He paused and glanced at the pawns before turning his attention back to her. His eyes widened. "Are you the Arisen the men of the Corps spoke of? You've a plainer air than I'd expected."

Darien raised her right eyebrow. "Did you expect wings?"

The man cleared his throat. "Ah, forgive me. I spoke poorly. I'd simply imagined a sort of figure pulled right from legend. Pray, allow me to begin anew." He bowed low enough for the front tip of his hat to brush the desk. "I am Asalam, and this is my inn, though we deal in a number of trades here. I hope this is the first of many visits, ser. I am at your service."

Darien couldn't place Asalam's accent, but decided against asking about it. "Well met. Do you have any rooms for the night?"

"Of course." He leaned forward and began jotting something into the ledger before him. In place of a name, he wrote "Arisen." "I assume one bed will suffice, ser."

Darien frowne. Zillah quickly said, "One bed for you, Master, since pawns needn't sleep."

Darien scratched the back of her neck. "Ah, of course. Yes. One bed, please."

Asalam ducked behind the desk and retrieved a single key. "That will be 500 gold."

"I uh," Darien brought out her purse. She looked at her meager funds, 750 gold exactly. Darien was reluctant to spend so much and leave so little for food and equipment, but too embarrassed to back out.

Zillah dropped a handful of coins on the desk. "This should cover half of it."

Darien tried not to look relieved as she paid the rest. She briefly wondered where and when the pawn had acquired the coin. She also wondered why the pawn's front tunic was damp and her boots wet.

"Very good, ser," Asalam said. "Pray, follow me to your room."

"Arisen," Rook said, "By your leave, I shall leave you and Zillah for the night."

Darien turned back. "Are you sure?"

The mage nodded. "I am. The room will be cramped with the three of us. If you have need of me, you only need summon me at the rift."

"I understand. Thank you, Rook." Then, she added, "Good night?"

The pawn bowed and exited. Darien felt a little guilty, but followed the inn keeper to her room.

Asalam lit the two candles resting upon the small, wooden table before he left with a bow. Her quarters weren't that small, but Rook's departure did give them generous space to move around. Darien immediately went to the bed and fell face forward onto the quilt. It was comfortable. Maybe not 500 gold comfortable, but Darien accepted it. She rolled over on her back and kicked off her boots.

Zillah look around the room, and then her eyes fell to the fighter.

"Tomorrow," Darien said, sitting up, "We should find the pawn guild Rook spoke of."

"As you wish, Master."

Darien sat on the edge of the bed and undid the clasp on her cape, letting it fall back over her shoulders. She moved to take off her tunic, but paused. Darien wasn't the shy sort when it came her body; Cassardis folk were not made of prim cloth. Still, Zillah's steady gaze was disquieting. Darien cleared her throat loudly. The pawn seemed to understand, and turned her back toward the Arisen.

Darien dressed down to her undergarments. She paused and looked down at the scar down her chest. Her beastband covered a portion of it, but she could still make out the top and bottom tips of the ugly mark. And it wasn't just a matter of seeing the scar: she could feel it. Part of her flesh where the heart should have been was slightly caved in; and when she pressed it, she could feel a portion of her rib was missing. It was an eerie sensation, her body's silence. No longer could she feel and hear the pulses – sounds that she never acknowledged, but did now that they were gone. She felt alive, but wondered if Arisen were actually well functioning undead. A discomforting thought.

Darien pulled the covers over herself and lay her head down on the pillow.

"Arisen," Zillah said, "might I give you something before you rest?"

"Hm?"

The pawn turned. She held a folded piece of parchment in her hand. "By Quina's request, I am meant to give you this."

"Quina gave you this?"

"To give to you. She asked I show you once you were settled somewhere. I believe this suffices."

Zillah passed on the letter, and sat on the side edge of the bed as if wanting to take as little space as necessary. Darien recognized her friend's neat handwriting, and sat up. She read quietly to herself:

Darien,

I know you, cos. I know the look on your face afore you decide to do something rash. You are going to leave. You hate saying goodbye, and for that you will leave with naught a word. That is why I have written this. To tell you that I know. To say you needn't worry. You feel that you must leave, for reasons I do not understand. I hope, then, that you too will understand why I cannot stay in Cassardis. I must find the cure to your ailment. For once I cannot help you, not with the knowledge I have now. But I swear I will find some way. You have always been there for me, and I hope to repay your kindness.

Please return to Cassardis once you have found your answers. I worry for Valmiro on his own, but I am sure our kinsmen will watch over him.

I am glad I was able to meet your companion. Zillah seems to be a kind soul, and someone who cares deeply for you. Please accept her help, and rely on her as you would me. You needn't be alone on your journey.

I will write you as soon as I am able.

Your friend,

Quina

Darien read the letter once, and then twice over. She then neatly folded it, and pondered over Quina's words.

"Is all well, Arisen?"

Darien lifted her eyes to the pawn. She forced a smile. "Quina worries for me."

Zillah tilted her head, but her eyes stayed focused on Darien.

"'Tis not uncommon for one's desire to help a friend," the pawn said.

Darien thought for a moment and felt a flash of wickedness within herself. How much could a pawn know of friendship? As far as she could tell, Zillah was motivated by some otherworldly instinct to protect Darien. Surely it couldn't be real in a sense. Darien had to remind herself of how little she actual knew of pawns, and kept her retort to herself. Another reason to pay a visit to the Pawn Guild.

"You made an impression on her," Darien said.

"Did I?"

Darien nodded. "I appreciate your help, but no one should go to such lengths to help me." She laid down, back toward the pawn, and pulled the covers over her shoulder.

"Why is that, Arisen?"

Darien sighed. "Because I can take care of myself." She closed her eyes. "I am going to sleep, now." Then, she added, "Please resist the urge to watch me sleep. 'Tis strange."

Darien waited. Finally, she felt the weight lift off her bed. The last thing she remembered before sleep overcame her was the shadow of the pawn against the wall. A quiet breath blew out the candles into darkness.

Author's Note: I'm not trying to update only once every month or so. I seriously suck at managing my time (and I got sidetracked by not-dragon's-dogma-things.) I'm going to try to write a bit every day, and have the newest chapter up in, at most, two weeks from now. Also, I'd like to welcome the new readers. I'm overjoyed that there are people out there reading this, and that there are still active Dragon's Dogma fans.