Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 29-04-23.

Sorry for the delay, but I've been mentally unwell. As usual sigh. Also, due to this community being almost completely dead across the board, I am taking a break from writing. I can't take it anymore. I've been here this entire time and I've watched it die in front of me.

Either way, I might've put far too much foreshadowing in this chapter… I am curious to know what everyone is predicting. Please, I am being direct here. I am also looking for chapter critiques: specifically I need to know what Natsuki and Viola's interaction feels like. Is there tension?


CHAPTER XXIV
Wintercearig
(Winter-Sorrowed)

XVIII • CMI Monandæg of Ærra Geola
(The 18th Day of Moon's Day, Preceding Yuletide, 901)

The blasted laboratory's chasm is vast and eerily silent. So great is this emptiness, that Natsuki's unable to prepare herself mentally.

Taking a step back, she internally curses as she bumps into Viola.

It is unfortunate, for due to her being the lightest, she will be going inside this devastated domain.

They're checking the laboratory for any sign of life—as impossible as this may seem. If they find anything of technological value they are going to destroy it. How unfortunate.

"Be careful on your way down." The Arcewælcyrge warns, resting a hand on her back. She is nervous, isn't she? Easing close without moving her hand, she sas: "Natsuki, if you have trouble, do not be afraid to pull on the rope. I will get you out of there." She promises her, testing the rope fastened around Natsuki's waist. In final precaution, Viola tests its tautness before gently pressing her forward. "Go."

Natsuki nods, slowly scrambling down into the carnage. The process is painstaking—bits of debris and shattered wood acting as dangerous hazards. Lumbering down the sharp slope, Natsuki halts within the centre of the chaos.

It's true. Her eyes swept the area, looking towards the fragmented metallic stairs. Within the explosion, they must have been crushed beneath the pressure. But, where is the rest of it? The rubble is making it impossible to find anything. Only…

The hairs on the back of Natsuki's neck rise in reaction to the oddest sensation. What… is that? She looks to Viola above who is still at the chasm's edge.

Something's wrong.

"Wælcyrge."

Natsuki sees the light behind her eyes before it totally engulfs her. Luminary Light tears down Natsuki's environment, manipulating her surroundings into pure argent.

"The Lord of Frenzy's unexpected return has reinvigorated the leylines. But the explosions were n—"

Wait, is that Miyú? Natsuki looks around, but the blinding whiteness is her only reality. She winces, pressing her hands to her face as she releases a pained sigh. Her ears are ringing…!

"—leylines—" The Guardian of Grimmsyll materialises before Natsuki within a shimmering glow. "—are the spiritual outl—" Her words become garbled, her form fizzling out into transparency. "—y-o—r—"

"—W-what are you saying?!" Natsuki freezes upon the sound of her voice. It sounded distorted and far deeper. Is this due to her warping senses or something more sinister?

"—souls have tied far quicker than any other Wælcyrge in history. You must—plunge toge—"

Plunge together? To do what?!

Miyú's body implodes into silvery sparkles across the pulverised laboratory, knocking Natsuki off her feet. Flashes of unknown realities trigger within Natsuki's mind eye: The collapse of the Tell Aswad, the Aswad Stone, Grimmsyll's Heart, Rena Sayers, Sakura Hazakura, Maria G—

"—Natsuki?"

"Natsuki?" Her name is repeated several times distantly, before gradually her vision starts to return. Natsuki discovers she's lying on her back against the rubble. Staring up at Viola, she notices that her Arcewælcyrge looks concerned. "H-huh?"

"Oh, thank the Gods'." Viola drags her up into an embrace, hiding her face into Natsuki's shoulder. "For a moment I thought you had died."

Since when had Viola gotten down here? The rope had been removed from Natsuki's waist and is instead coiled neatly beside them. As well as this, a standard lantern had been brought down.

How long had she been knocked out?

"I-I didn't." Natsuki timidly hovers her hands above Viola's cuirass backplate. After a moment, the Arcewælcyrge eases away, her sights setting upon the mangled tunnel door.

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah, I think." Natsuki heaves upwards with Viola's help, feeling unsteady upon the rubble. "Miyú said—"

"—I know. I saw everything."

Worse, the mention of leylines concerns Viola. Yukino had warned of this within her letter. But they had no time for this.

Silence falls as Viola picks up the rope and lantern then heads for the heavy door. Here they stoop past it into a passageway, rubble having been blasted inside by several feet.

"It looks to be an old escape tunnel." Viola says, lowering her lantern enough so they can see their feet. The walls are bejewelled by rough pickaxe cuts. This is definitely an old cistern route.

"...What do you think she meant by that? A plunge?" Natsuki asks within the darkness, overstrung by the way her voice carries. Her echo returns moments later like a hiss, putting her on edge instantly. That just sounds horrifying!

"I think… Maybe she wants us to have sex."

Natsuki stumbles.

"Ah, Natsuki?" Viola stops, looking at her former Ánhere bewilderedly.

Natsuki had tripped upon a stone and is now on her hands and knees. The Arcewælcyrge quickly sets the lantern down, twisting around fully to kneel. "Are you al—"

"—H-how can you be so casual about that?" Natsuki mumbles.

"About w—"

"—S-sex!" Natsuki peers away into the darkness which luckily did not betray her blushing. "How are you so sure it's… t-that?"

"It is simply an inkling I have. That is all." Viola presses her hands down upon Natsuki's shoulders, soothing her. Is it just that, though? Viola catches Natsuki's eyes, searching past their hesitation until they stilled. "Come, we can discuss this later. We must find Helene and Irina." Her scarlet eyes twinkle in the lantern-light, telling Natsuki there's far more she's thinking.

Her Wælcyrge could only release a heavy sigh. "You're right—as always."

The minutes surpass them until eventually they are greeted by a dead end. Upon the rough stone floor is an entranceway that has long since been sealed. Or, perhaps not…? Are these sealed stairs? Viola examines the large bricks barring their access. Kneeling, she smoothes a hand along picked blocks.

"They were always down here." Natsuki muttered, seeming confident in her next choice of words. "They got crushed, didn't t—" Wait… what is that?

"I… very likely." Viola stands and turns around, peering into the long, gloomy corridor. She did not notice Natsuki picking up an item.

They have failed. She is sure of it.

"What is this?" Natsuki askes as she offers it to Viola. "I swear I've seen it before somewhere…"

What? Viola takes it and hovers their lantern aloft in order to inspect this mysterious object. It appears to be a small slab of stone with engraved patterns upon it. Angling it around, Viola holds a breath suddenly. On this end are electronic pins—"This inserts into something." She realises, now looking towards the stairs and pinpointing a disguised lid within the wall.

Natsuki watches her head for the wall in confusion. That is until the lid is swung open and a fried console is revealed to them. "Wait, it goes in there?" She peers over Viola's shoulder.

"It seems the case, but it has been destroyed." Viola tries inserting this object into the console. As expected, nothing happens.

"They got away." Natsuki recognises, though her face drops upon her next question: "But… how did they destroy that thing if this entrance was sealed?"

"I… I honestly do not know, Natsuki."

The trip back has been fraught with solemn condemnation but hopefulness.

How did this happen? So many people are missing or confirmed dead. Worse yet, their most brilliant minds—Shiro and Mahya—were presumably deceased. Yohko and Irina too are obviously lost, but where? Out of everyone, only Nina and Erstin have been discovered alive from a seemingly impossible feat.

How does one survive for so long without food or water? Erstin had told them that they had stowed away in the Spymaster's office, yet… No. Truthfully, Viola is suspicious.

Clearly the servant girl has not revealed their entire story.

"...It is probable that Helene and Woods have escaped the laboratory's collapse." Viola states within the HQ tent. Easing forward against the table, she points an index towards its location on the map. "Around here is the escape tunnel which Wælcyrge Kruger and myself explored. There is a peculiar stairway which is sealed up deeper underground."

"Wait, really? Is there no way inside?" Midori languishes into her seat at the adjacent end of the table. She has just sat down beside Haruka who has been depressed enough already.

The Captain of the Guard visibly perks up at this new titbit of information. "We must get them out then!"

"We cannot." Viola solemnly shakes her head, confusing Haruka greatly. "We found this." She pushes the electronic slab within the table's centre which greatly fascinates the entire tent. "This is the key to unsteal the stairs. However, the console for it is damaged beyond repair. I have no genuine idea how they managed to do this."

"Then what will we do now?" Midori adds in. "Our rangers have almost hunted the entire population of deer now. We can't wait here forever."

"We've almost cleared up all the corpses now too." Chie says gravely, fiddling with her sling's bandages. "Our messengers to Wind never returned either. What are we doing about that?"

All eyes within the tent move to Viola glaring down at the parchment before herself. It details that around seventy percent of the Palace residents were either dead or missing. "It will be dangerous, but we must go to Wind."

As the Huntmaster stated, they truly can't wait for Yohko and Irina.

Releasing a tense breath, Viola's eyes pull level with the occupants at the table: Haruka, Chie, Midori, Sarah…

"We must bring everyone. The defenceless will be masticated by the undead if we leave them here."

"But…" Sarah motions the attention to herself. "It's rumoured that Wind has been overwhelmed by them as well. Nowhere is safe now."

"What else could we do?" Haruka couldn't believe herself, but she's agreeing with Viola for once. "The Arcewælcyrge's right. It'd be a slaughter either way." What on Earl awaits them at the capital?!

Once the meeting concludes, Viola exits the tent in a sombred fashion. Skywards she peers, watching the white clouds glide across the azure horizon. Their encampment is totally enshrouded by a blanket of snowfall. Puffing a breath, she pushes forward, intending to find Natsuki.

Trekking through camp, her tired gaze shifts between its inhabitants. Their surroundings were thick with morose sadness. Though miraculous is Altai's defeat, they have lost much.

The Weaver line is extinct, staff members, officials and friends are dead… The list continues.

Sliding a palm down her chilled face, Viola eventually spots Natsuki on the border of camp.

She is sitting atop a large fallen tree trunk overlooking the rolling hills. As Viola approaches, her crunching footfalls alerts the Wælcyrge who twists partially around. Within her hands sits a knife and an… arrow shaft? The guess seems correct, for a collection of fletching materials are next to Natsuki.

Their silent exchange is followed by Natsuki placing the knife within her lap. Brushing snow off the bark beside her, she motions her Arcewælcyrge to sit. Here they remain for a time, only the sounds of the camp, birds and carving resounding.

After another moment, Viola's gaze moves to Natsuki, watching her work.

It still surprises her that Natsuki has chosen blacksmithing. Though fletching is something entirely different. She supposes it makes sense. An army is forever running low on arrows. King Bruce II had even hired a personal fletcher. What had the role been again…? She could not remember.

"Did you make those arrowheads?" Viola broke the serenity.

"Hm, no. The hunters ran out earlier, so I'm helping use up the salvaged heads." As in taken from the corpses of both their own and their enemies. Mind you, nevertheless, Natsuki has to learn the crafting process herself. What's increasingly unfortunate is that they don't have the proper equipment to make these. Carving the shafts is painstaking and they should honestly be sanding them.

"It's weirdly satisfying, though." Natsuki makes four angled cuts, shaping one end of the shaft like a pyramid. Next she reaches for the glass jar beside her. Uncorking it, she then retrieves an arrowhead. Tipping it upside down, she flowed the liquid down its funnel.

Viola immediately recognises the smell—that's animal glue.

"But I guess it's to be expected. I have always been good at repetitive tasks." Passing the jar to Viola, Natsuki inserts the arrowhead on the shaft's carved end. She adds pressure to it for a moment, sighing. Condensation billowing from her lips, Natsuki says: "Before I got bogged down with work at Garderobe, I used to be a hobbyist mechanic. Blacksmithing reminds me of those times."

Ahh, there we go. Viola smiles vaguely, understanding the connection now. Her own Natsuki had been an avid motorcyclist.

"I even managed to rebuild an old motorcycle, once." Natsuki ties a taut knot around the arrowhead, cutting the end afterwards. "That thing is—was?—twice my age." Inspecting the incomplete arrow, Natsuki gently taps it. "Shiz—well, you didn't seem very impressed by my accomplishment." She laughs quietly. "I don't think you liked it very much." She looks at her, the Arcewælcyrge giving her a curious stare.

"I worried for you." Viola murmurs as Natsuki carefully cuts three lines down the other end of the shaft. "Was I possessive?" Natsuki scoffs instantaneously, causing her to slowly blink. Was it that bad?

"You would've slaughtered an entire regiment of Otome if they insulted me." The former Ánhere smiles in sad reminiscence before reality again makes her sigh. "So many are dead." Opening a wooden box, she takes a goose feather out. Splitting it in half, its ends are then trimmed at an angle.

"We will get through this. Somehow." Viola told her, adding: "I will make it work."

"I know." The glue is taken back, a trail oozing into one of the shaft's cuts. A halved feather is then fastidiously slotted inside and held there. "You insisted that you don't know how to lead an army, yet here we are."

"With Anh, perhaps. On my own? Only the Gods' know how I will perform." Another feather is dipped into a cut. "I cannot help it, Natsuki. To be a leader, we must have monumental luck and skill. One failure can ruin you forever."

"Don't I know it." Natsuki grumbles, clamping the arrow's middle between her legs as she reaches for another goose feather. The process is repeated, until the third strip is inserted against the shaft. "I was assassinated, but I guess it is my own fault for refusing Shiz—your—protection. You were needed at campus."

Still though! How she yearned to know the story of how Shizuru married Mai of all people. A solemness overwhelms her face. She's getting stuck in her head again.

"You were blindsided by the unexpected. That is not your fault."

"Maybe, but still. In the end I died."

With all three feathers inserted, Natsuki proceeds to wrap thread around their bottom ends. Another is then tied at the top. "All of my duties would have gone to other officials. Most probably to you, since you were the second-in-command." Admiring her handiwork, Natsuki finalises the product by carving a line where the bowstring will go. The complete arrow is left beside a neat row of others where it will dry.

"Judging by my grave, I lived well." Viola points out. How old had she been, again? In her nineties? She could not remember. "But, nevertheless…" Taking the knife from her former Ánhere, she set this tool aside. Clasping her hands to Natsuki's shoulders, she then repeats: "It is not your fault. Do not blame yourself for something out of your control. Instead, continue to grow yourself here as my chosen Wælcyrge."

She always knows what to say!


XIX • CMI Wigesdæg of Ærra Geola
(The 19th Day of Preceding Yuletide, Warrior's Day, 901)
One Day Later

"That's everyone accounted for." Sarah says, mounted atop her horse.

All the defenceless have been ushered onto the sparse waggons they had obtained from the Palace. Numerous horses are currently being attached to these waggons as the officials speak.

"You will lead the Knights in place of Hallard." Haruka orders. The Knight-Commander—due to her injury—is accompanying Aoi in one of these waggons.

Sarah nods, turning her gaze to Viola who is seated on her own horse. "Arcewælcyrge, should I relay the message to the others that we're ready?"

"Please do. Notify Captain Bianchi to have the Arles Guard protect the rear end. Also tell Yukino that I have received her messages." The Witch will know what she means.

The journey ahead of them is slowed down by the persistent snowfall. This winter is particularly harsh this year and it certainly upheld its notorious misery. During these short days, everyone becomes languid and less upbeat. Nor does it help things that the convoy is saddened with mourning.

Chilled, Viola closes her eyes briefly. A terrible gust of wind keeps whipping across her. She is sure that this biting cold is already making Natsuki miserable. Scarlet gaze veering rightwards, she calls for her former Ánhere who's riding Grimnir. "You say that you visited Wind once before, correct?"

Slipping a hand into the leather pouch by her thigh, Viola touches along a chilled band. The Sovereign's Ring is still safe and sound, at least.

"When I had to retrieve Graceburt's Anchor from the Wind Catacombs." Natsuki nods slowly, adjusting herself within her saddle faintly. Though that had only been some months ago, it still feels like aeons have passed. These days however, the days were so slow—and so blasted freezing! She hugs herself in some semblance to warm herself. Alas, her gambeson and armour allowed no such thing. 'Ah, figures…'

"The Heart of Vigour." Temporarily Viola had been forced to wear it along with her own, else she would expire. That Anchor beheld a monstrous stamina. It had filled her with a faux sense of achievement and strength. Odd indeed but gratefully sought during her unwell days.

This time her hand draws towards another pouch by her opposite thigh. This one is cylindrical and houses Yukino's messages. Taking one, she rips its wax seal and begins to read.

Arcewælcyrge, firstly, thank you for granting me permission to study the converted SLAVE. It has been years since I last studied one. This unfortunately means I have no notes to compare this study with. Regardless, my experiment has bore fruit. Interestingly, his Aura—which I will describe as Ardour—was different from that of others.

What does she mean? Viola frowns subtly, her gaze occasionally flicking ahead to make sure her steed behaves.

Usually SLAVEs have a dormant Ardour which activates when their instincts kick in. This SLAVE is different. His Ardour is always active no matter the circumstances. It is a heavy and all-consuming Ardour which even I started having trouble against.

Viola pauses, staring at that final sentence. A feeling of dread broils within her stomach, not liking this information at all. Is it possible that they're evolving?

When the SLAVE was injured and participants were positioned farther away, his Ardour intensified. I'm not totally sure, but I suspect this may be the workings of pack leader instinct. I have only witnessed this once or twice, however. Large hordes will sometimes have a leader—like a herd of bovines, perhaps. Is this perhaps how SLAVE leaders transmit commands? More test samples are required for further research.

This is indeed troubling. Viola warily glances back at the pouch, feeling uneasy. Did she dare read the other message yet?

"I've been thinking…"

Focus cut short from the pouch, Viola turns her sights on Natsuki. "Yes?"

"Does the Old Tongue tend to speak in riddles?" Natsuki asks, struggling with her words as she palms Grimnir's neck encouragingly. "Huh—I mean, like… is it ever straightforward? Those voices never seem to make sense." It's beyond infuriating at this point. "Ever since that Anchor… ugh—found me in that… well, that place…" Natsuki mumbles. "Their riddles are becoming more and more frequent."

"Of madness chained in gold…" Viola murmurs aloud, testing the words. "Not exactly, no. It is written in a direct manner. It is just that a lot of context tends to be missing. Many available sources were written by artisans and the religious. This is because most people were illiterate."

"Illiteracy still seems rampant." Natsuki points out.

"Indeed." Viola rolls up Yukino's letter, placing it back into the pouch. Next the other is removed, its seal being broken. "Those voices—I still do not trust them. You have been recording them though, yes?"

"Yeah." Still they make no sense at all. Natsuki reaches for her own saddle's pouch, revealing a tied scroll.

They both fall quiet, reading their respective materials.

I hate seeing copies of people I kn— This sentence had angrily been scribbled asunder by Natsuki weeks ago. My mind tangles up when I see people from my past. It confuses me because— Ink stains this portion of the scroll, leaving a black pool. —sometimes they're totally different people with other motives. Everything's alien and familiar at the same time, it drives me insane.

Natsuki's eyes fall onto the translations.

Blæc Columne curnan, oþ Tell Aswad. Þær hit nu gen lifað... Oþ Ey Wæs Ofereode: The Black Column comes to the Black Temple. It is rushed beneath the earth... Until it is overcome. That makes no sense either way, Natsuki's face scrunches up. Has she remembered the quote correctly? It also doesn't explain how she can write the Old Tongue when it's spoken to her. Why is that?

Seo slæp ealle binom; of sorge and longaþ. Þæt Ic bi me sylfum, secgan wille, Ic wæs Wælcyrge. Columne Blæc curnan oþ Tell Aswad: She's completely sleep deprived; of sorrow and longing I, for myself, will declare that I was a Wælcyrge. The Black Column comes to the Black Temple. Examining this quote and the one before it, Natsuki pauses. She had suspected this for a while, but this did seem to be the same person. Or, well… it? Natsuki still has no idea what this entity even is.

Min sorg bið geniwad, ofer waþema gebind ong hrimcealde sæ. Hreosan hrim ond snaw hagle gemenged. Hwæt! Hu Ic geswincdagum. Eala Wælcyrge!: My sorrow is renewed… Over the binding of waves and along the icy-cold sea of frosty snowfall mixed with hail. Behold! How I often endured. Alas, for the Wælcyrge! This one sounds like it is hinting possible directions to her. But where… and why?

Ic hwile wæs sáwolwédan. We sigewang: I was soul-maddened for a while. We will overcome it.

The entity also insinuated that it was once a Wælcyrge. How is that possible? It definitely isn't Anh… Natsuki eyes Viola beside her who is still reading. "...Which seas are cold?"

Viola halts her reading, locking their gaze with a curious glance. "The Obsidian Ocean and the Argus Sea are especially cold." What is she searching for…? "Why? What are you curious about?"

"Hm. It's nothing, really." The former Ánhere lies through her teeth, casting her gaze elsewhere. A peculiar tree stump overgrown with exotic mushrooms is particularly fascinating suddenly. Natsuki peers at the snowy caps, humming under her breath. "I want to learn about other countries. Those are beside Altay and… Chaldea, right?" She hazard a guess on the latter.

"Yes." The Arcewælcyrge eyes her oddly. Though it is obvious Natsuki is up to something, Viola supposes she'll indulge her. "Northern Altay is a tundra while its southern coastline is temperate. Its Obsidian Ocean is turbulent and dangerous. The Argus Sea is more so, however…"

Natsuki tucks her scroll back into its pouch, giving the Arcewælcyrge her full attention attentively.

"Due to the contrasting temperatures from Windbloom, Remus, Chaldea and Romulus, the Sea is hectic. Our colder climate clashes with the southern continent's heat which forms hurricanes, tornadoes, waterspouts and even mælstroms. The people of Venta who reside in southern Windbloom prefer to call it the Morimaru. For us, that translates to the Dead Sea."

Natsuki has to admit, that is a much cooler name, but those people are odd. "They're the ones who go to battle naked and paint themselves… blue?" Natsuki frowns, judging her own answer with uncertainty. It sounds so outlandish but this is exactly what she has heard about those tribals.

"Oh." Viola laughs. "You have heard correctly. They do indeed go to battle nude as well as paint themselves in woad dye. They take their entire families to the battlefield, in fact. I saw them once. Their children and elderly will tend to their camp. The able-bodied men and women meanwhile will parlay in the battlefield. Those tactics certainly foiled Remus' plans of their precious Pax Lutetiae nonsense. They were foolish to send a mere few hundred men into Windbloom."

"Pax… what?" Natsuki stares blankly at her.

"Lutesian Peace. It is a catchphrase they like tossing about when stealing sovereign lands."

"Ah… interesting." Natsuki finds it awfully similar to the history of her previous homeworld. Lutesia had been broken up there as well. Though they certainly hadn't sounded this glorified. "Do they still do it?"

"I am unsure, actually. Last I heard there were usurpers attempting to take Imperator Sergius' imperial throne."

"Ah, right." Natsuki begins guiding Grimnir down the gentle slope they are now descending. "Remus is the Empire while Romulus is the Republic, isn't it?"

"Correct. They broke apart into separate countries some centuries ago. We do not know much about Romulus, though I am sure they are seizing Chaldea's land." All large nations are like this. Viola shakes her head at the fact, wisps of condensation releasing from her lips.

"It's started snowing again…" Natsuki mutters under her breath, twisting partially within her saddle. Reaching into the bag resting behind her, she rummages inside. "Are we close yet?"

"We have a few hours yet." Viola hesitantly procures the final letter from Yukino at last. This one she has been looking forward to the least. This is because it details the Queen's demise. Due to her duties, Viola was unable to interview Aoi Senoh regarding Mashiro's final words. Henceforth… the matter had been transferred to their Witch.

Alas, her attention is snatched away by Natsuki who's now wrapping herself within a cloak. "Would you like to borrow mine?" She asks, but the offer is quickly denied. Viola helplessly smiles Natsuki's way, eyes landing upon her letter instead.

There's truly no helping it, is there?

As you requested, I have completed the interview with Aoi Senoh. Due to the interview's length and limited parchment, I will be paraphrasing a great deal. I hope you understand.

It's unfortunate, really. She's been so rushed off her feet that she hadn't managed to spare time for Aoi. Chie has mentioned very little as well—predictively protective, mayhaps? Gods', Viola has no idea. She carefully brushes snowflakes from the parchment, reading further.

Kanzaki's assault had been abrupt and instantaneous. Before any of us could understand what had happened, a quarter of the guards were killed. I still have no idea what went on. It's like the Altains had appeared through the floor itself.

What? Viola stares at this paragraph. How very strange… Had they dug trenches beneath the battlements? That isn't feasible though: There was no evidence of tunnelling nor any use of sapping. Unless… Had they used hooks to gain access atop the walls?

Again Viola is conflicted. No, neither does this make reasonable sense. Armour, weapons and gear are far too heavy. Though it is sensible and vital to wear armour, under certain circumstances it is also a death sentence. They would have been sitting ducks climbing the battlements via hook.

The Queen and I were immediately under house arrest. For a while I managed to get snippets of information from the other servants. There were outlandish rumours and conspiracies forming among the ranks. One was that the Altains had disguised themselves like our Knights. Another meanwhile is that they dressed in drag, seducing the guards.

She… Has she read that correctly? Viola drags a palm along her chilled face in semblance of regaining logic. Dressed in drag? Attempting to seduce their guards? That's humanity for you, she supposes. "Natsuki, what are your thoughts regarding the Altains invading the Palace? How do you believe they managed it?"

"Dunno." Natsuki peers at her beneath her frosted cloak hood, sniffing from the cold. "But it couldn't have been completely by force. There were no signs of siege equipment and it's practically impossible to scale the walls. I think they somehow knew about the sewer or cistern."

"It is likely. I am reading Yukino's findings. The Palace was in total confusion as to how the Altains infiltrated past the walls. It is like they…" She shakes her head slowly, attempting to find the correct words. "...appeared from nowhere?"

"Like Miyú?"

"Perhaps."

At some point the undead attacked. I don't know when it started but I think it was on the top storey. The Altains kept whispering but I couldn't understand them. They sounded terrified. This is when we were cut off from the rest of the servants. Kanzaki said everyone was dead.

Were SLAVEs purposefully planted into the Palace? But that's just insane if it's the case! At this point Viola truly has no idea how Kanzaki succeeded. At this rate, she expects them to have the ability to phase through walls.

Eventually the Altains had us rounded up into the throne room. For the entire day they kept returning injured. Many never appeared again. We had assumed the undead were responsible for this. Though, as we later learned in the encampment, it was our Knights who were responsible. I still genuinely have no idea how they survived this.

Neither does Viola, honestly. They were easily outmatched one to nine yet through tooth and nail they had persevered. However, the ending paragraph is what clings to her the most.

The Queen's final wish is that the next leader must serve justice to our enemies. She regrets being unable to stabilise the country and make her people happy. She requests that this is strictly followed but our traditions and culture aren't abandoned. A leader is needed quickly but they must be chosen carefully.

With this, the letter concludes.

Their next encounter is upon the road leading to Wind.

For several minutes the occasional refugee has passed by nervously, hiding their faces within their cloaks.

What would drive them to feel afraid of them? Viola turns slightly in her saddle to observe a crowd walk in the opposite direction. Their snowy footfalls hurry upon reaching the Knights, making her frown. Realisation then hits her. "Something dreadful has happened with the Wind Army."

"Huh?" Haruka looks at her from the opposite side of Natsuki. "How do you know?"

"Every person who has passed us is giving the Knights looks of terror."

Natsuki nods in agreement, having noticed it as well. "She's right. Some of them up ahead have been leaving the road completely when they spot us."

Haruka heaves a breath at this. "Hold the front, I'm going to check the Knights." With this, the Captain of the Guard reins her horse around and trots down the line.

"You there!" Viola raises her voice at a crowd, causing them to nearly jump out of their skins. "What has happened in the capital? Why do you fear the Knights so profoundly?"

"Y-you are—" A man stammers, recognising who she is. "T-the undead! They've slaughtered them all!" He covers his mouth with his hood, rushing ahead with the others.

'What?' Scarlet and virid irises lock as Viola and Natsuki catch each other's gaze.

Viola tries again with a new crowd. "What has happened in the capital?"

"U-undead. Aren't yo—I-I—sorry—"

Fear slew any similarity of reliability for them. It is becoming clear they will find out for themselves.

Luckily—or mayhaps regrettably—the entrance to Wind comes into view. A great stone wall greets them as they turn the corner. Soldiers guard its immense gatehouse, only letting a trickle of people through.

Voices of anger and confusion start coming into earshot. Behind the portcullis, there's carnage.

"What has happened?" Viola says as the convoy begins stopping. Two soldiers with halberds glance at each other. "Well?"

"Arcewælcyrge Viola?" Behind them, the amassing crowd heaves at the portcullis, vainly attempting to lift it. "Gods' calm them down before they start a stampede!" One of the guards shouts orders behind them, rallying the others to calm the crowd. "The Wind Army was able to hold the undead back for several days. Some of them went down into the Wind Catacombs to put a stop to it."

"It?" Viola questioned. "Explain yourself!"

"T-the Royal Scholar is working on the problem." The man rushes his explanation. "He thinks something's down there that might stop the undead swarming the city."

Shiro's alive? He is here? "Takamura Shiro is alive?" Viola questions him further. "Take us to him, immediately." This meant others might be here!

The capital is in total bedlam.

Soldiers are running to and fro attempting to evacuate panicking peasants. Sometimes, a maddened citizen will take the nearest weapon and demand to help. People such as these are quickly refused and forcefully carted off before they make a scene.

Many others simply freeze up, unable to do a thing, whilst others mindlessly flee. Yet within the carnage, they are yet to see a single SLAVE.

"Every night the undead flood from the Catacombs. Their numbers are unending, but so far we have held them at bay every time." Wind's Captain of the Guard explains, his hands clasped behind himself. His face is grizzled, eyes grey, nose hooked and a streak of grey runs through his beard. "We couldn't have done it without the help of your Royal Scholar." He imparts, flicking invisible dirt from his silver breastplate.

"You are the new Captain, aren't you?" Haruka asked him. John Smith?"

"Sir. Smith." He corrects her with the faintest smile inside his eyes.

"Sir Smith." Viola starts, remembering his knighthood fairly well. It had been a few months prior to her finding Natsuki. "We have news from Guadeloupe Palace, but it cannot be revealed here."

John nods, understanding. "Very well. Follow me, I will take you to the Wall."

'The Wall…?'

Soon enough, the convoy's officials are brought to this mysterious Wall through Saint Monica's Street. It is a direct route that takes them to Wind Cathedral. It gently slopes upwards, giving them a brilliant showcase of the Cathedral. Or, well—would have, for a large palisade wall now blocks the view.

"Every sunfall, the undying flood from the Cathedral entrance." John has them climb the makeshift battlements, brushing past a dozen archers. Here they are given a panorama of the holy site's gothic architecture. Framework which unfortunately is painted in blood. "Salt, holy water and fire has been used to prevent the undead from passing the Wall." He points to the clear signs of charring and strife on the paved floor.

This extends for several yards with the added decoration of guts, body parts and other unmentionables.

"What's your estimated kill count?" Chie asks, peering down to the ground that is ten feet away. A pile of corpses are located here, getting dragged through the small gatehouse by soldiers.

"The hundreds, possibly within the thousands. I am unsure."

The Knight-Commander nods, satisfied for now. "Impressive." — 'But, there's only so many dead housed within the Catacombs. Unless…' Chie did not dare finish that internal question, for it would mean their end.

Next they are herded into the nearby complexes which are being used by the Wind Army.

Stepping inside, Natsuki's gaze searches what appeared to be a repurposed inn. Weapons, armour, clothes and rations are strewn everyplace. Off to the side a simple set of stairs lead to an atrium overlooking the bar.

"Follow me, please." The Wind Captain guides them up these stairs and down a long corridor. At the end is not a wall. Rather, it had been torn through, leading to the next building.

Natsuki peers out this corridor's crown-glass windows. It turns out this is the perfect vantage point. This building's balcony is positioned beside the Cathedral Square. Bows and arrows are stacked within this corridor, awaiting their archers.

She assumes they are within the bedrooms to their left. Snores resound this hallway, until Natsuki stoops through the hole. A reverberation of activity swarms this next site. Shouts, whispers and laughter echoes, increasing louder as they enter the room.

"These are the servant quarters. For the time being the government and military are residing here." John discloses as he leads them down the stairs. Here a large table is situated, and around it are a dozen people.

Viola pushed through upon spotting two familiar faces.

"I will return before sunfall, I must brief my soldiers." With this, the Wind Captain departs, exiting from this storey's main entrance.

Natsuki watches Viola approach the table swiftly, recognising one of two people she's bee-lining towards. Takamura Shiro, their Royal Scholar, is here after all.

"Whoa." Chie breathes, standing beside her. "That's Rila Mariposa over there! She's the Royal Commander."

It is the platinum-haired woman who Viola's speaking to. Large curls are an abundance upon this woman's head—a majority being tied back in a ponytail. Yet the details do not end here. Small plaits coil along her skull, reaching her blue hairband. She is donned within the Wind leather and chain armour without a helmet. However, unlike everyone else Natsuki has seen, she wears a tabard. This cloth is a brilliant azure, patterned by glorious gold.

"She was a close friend of Arcewælcyrge Lu back in the day."

Natsuki quietly observes the two, watching as Shiro pushes his chair back to get up.

"I would say it is great to see you again, Shizuru, but all things considered…" Rila forces a smile, her icy eyes seeming less cold. "We've been in trouble for a long while now."

"We have only been told a few details. What has happened here?"

"Far too much has happened to explain it in one sitting." Shiro says, standing beside Rila. It turns out the platinum commander is tall indeed. He reaches her chin! Not that this says much, as Viola is taller than him as well. Both women were rather lanky for their sex. "We started receiving messages from Wind of a mystery in the Catacombs. I was quickly escorted by the Night Watch. By the time I arrived, we had lost a portion of the Royal Guard due to an issue in Guadeloupe. Suddenly, some weeks ago, the undead spewed out from the Catacombs—and even the city cemeteries."

The Arcewælcyrge will not reveal what has happened. Not yet, at least. "Our soldiers from the capital have been terrified." Viola remarks. "Do you have any theories as to why the undead are suddenly so aggressive?"

There are no available historical records of this ever happening, is there?

"My only guess is that the Heart of Vigour's removal did something. But this should have been an instantaneous reaction." Something else might be at work here. The problem is, he has no idea what that something is. "I've scoured our records but there's nothing." Which is honestly not surprising. Artefacts like the Anchor are stored there precisely because of this reason. Because they're dangerous!

"Perhaps thanks to Graceburt's seal being weakened, something chipped away at it." The Arcewælcyrge muses thoughtfully, brushing her fingers against her chin. Realisation sparking, her eyes pull towards her fellow officials. Yukino had mentioned the location of major leylines: The Palace, Ruins and… Wind Cathedral. "A moment, please." She raises her hand to them, pushing past numerous persons to reach Yukino.

"I read your letters." Viola murmurs softly enough that others could not hear. "I have news of the leylines, but we cannot discuss it here."

The Witch nods, slipping back into the crowd.

It is going to be a long night.


By the early afternoon, the Sun is already beginning to set.

The horizon is a deep orange that blends with pink then gets covered by foreboding clouds.

Lining the makeshift battlements, windows, rooftops and balconies, the archers and crossbowmen wait.

All is tense at the Wall.

The brittle silence is unbearable. So much so that a twig could snap underfoot, alerting the entire army.

Then, it happens.

As the Sun falls behind the rooftops, a deep shadow casts upon them. Dread profound, the tortured screams, gurgles and roars resound within the Catacombs below.

"Here they come!" A torchbearer yells above the deafening squall, throwing the fiery stake at the grand doors. Pitch oil gets set aflame, a blaze erupting before the entrance. It truly looks like the legendary Wyrmgeard: A place of fell dragons who will devour everything in their path.

Grotesque, shambling corpses scramble through the doors. Some were instantaneously caught ablaze within the pitch-fires. Others careen into the Wall—their fireball-induced bodies sending rotten ash billowing skywards into snowfall.

"Now! Cast the holy water!" The nuns from before—Zion and Raquel—dunked bowls into a fount beside them. Once partially full, they cast the water onto the SLAVEs below. Squeals and agonised howls rage from below, their skin frying.

In the middle of this carnage is Natsuki.

Identical to the battle with Kagutsuchi, she's supplying the archers with weaponry: Some of these arrows are even ones made by herself.

"Who needed the pitch oil?!" She yells over the chaos from outside.

Luck is with them for once. Wind is the capital, therefore they have ample supply of this stuff.

Outside on the balcony the archers are stationed. From here she is called by a woman—Rila, it turns out—from behind the corner. "Here!" She laxes her brow with her free hand, wafting a hand towards her.

Natsuki rushes to her, a small barrel within her arms.

"A sheaf each."

Natsuki nods, leaving the barrel by the Royal Commander's feet. Launching herself down the corridor, she bolts through the hole within the corridor's wall. Here a surplus of their supplies reside. "Sheaves, sheaves, sheaves…" Her eyes swept across the chests, barrels and floor quickly. There! Twenty-four arrows aren't going to last these archers long at all. She heaves for air, thinking swiftly. Picking up six sheaves instead, she huddles the wrapped arrows to her torso carefully.

This battle would last far into the night until the Sun rose once more.

Completely and utterly exhausted, Natsuki leans heavily against the balcony she has been supplying.

As rays of light shone against her face, she sighs a breath of relief.

How did these soldiers do this each and every night? Leaning her head against her arms, Natsuki feels she could fall asleep at that very moment.

"You're certainly Shizuru's, that's for definite." Rila clasps her leather gauntlet to Natsuki's shoulder, squeezing.

"Huh?" Natsuki stares at her wearily. "Is that a compliment?"

"Why of course it is!" The platinum Commander laughs heartily. "She will be most pleased." Easing downwards, Rila picks up her arrow sheaf, carrying it and her bow into the corridor. "Go on. You're dismissed."

Natsuki remains still for a moment, tiredly observing the rejoicing army within the square. They cheer and yell happily, smashing their shields, the Wall—anything—to make a racket. Natsuki could only yawn. 'They're so loud.' With that, she heaves to her full height, lumbering into the corridor where Rila is.

"The first week is always the roughest." Rila encourages, ushering her through to their supply stockpile. Here she leaves her bow and arrows, striding towards the stairs. "If I am needed, I will be taking a bath. Even though it isn't Bathday!" Her laughter fades, her footfalls becoming softer the further away she walks.

Gods', Natsuki's exhausted!

"There you are."

Upon hearing Viola's voice, Natsuki whirls around. The Arcewælcyrge steps through the hole in the wall gingerly, saying: "Where is the Commander?"

"She just went for a bath."

"Ah. That can wait, then." Viola smiles, wrapping her fingers around Natsuki's wrist to tug her closer. She had not parlayed in the battle, so the only armour she's wearing is her cuirass. "You look as though you will collapse at any moment."

"I sure feel it." Natsuki mutters, allowing Viola to lead her back the way she had come.

"There is a servant across the street who will show us our quarters."

Oh, right. They have been so busy that Natsuki had forgotten all about their sleeping arrangements.

Soon enough, they meet up with the servant who introduces them to their quarters.

"Here is your room for the unforeseeable future." Unthreading a large keyring from her belt, the keys jangle noisily. "If you need anything, this storey's servants are down that corridor." Pointing through an open doorway, the servant then unlocks the door. Afterwards, she hands the key to Viola and wordlessly departs.

Entering the room they are greeted by a simplistic but pristine sight. Oak floorboards, rough but plastered walls and a fireplace make this room. The focus object is a four poster bed right in front of them.

"It is freezing." Viola mutters, heading straight for the fireplace that is already stocked with wood.

"I think it's warmer outside." Natsuki remarked wryly, shutting the door.

"Perhaps." Viola struck a supplied match, hovering a hand before the flame. Once a log starts burning, she threw the match within one of the pile's crevices.

Natsuki meanwhile takes off her sabre and harnesses, leaving them on the closeby table. She then determinedly flops down against the bed.

By the Gods' though! She stares at the four poster bed's curtain above. This mattress is heavenly! "What is this bed made from?"

"It is very likely to be goose feathers. We receive a lot of imported goods from Remus—goose feathers and bedding are some of those." Viola sits down on the bed's edge beside Natsuki. She is so exhausted. Viola sighs, slowly edging off her boots. "I will sleep well."

They both will.

Natsuki contemplates their recent events, gaze transferring to Viola's back. Natsuki eyed a stiletto dagger sheathed at the small of Viola's back. When did she get that? "Hm." Removing whatever thought she had aside, she pulls her sleeve up to inspect her bandages. "What did they have you do in the command room, anyway?"

"Among other things? Strategise how we will flush out the SLAVEs from the Catacombs, mostly." Viola finally manages to pull off her boots and prop an ankle to her thigh. Here she firmly massages her foot. Everywhere aches yet she hasn't been in the battle. But she supposes it makes sense, it has been nonstop all night.

"What's Remus like?" Natsuki asks, rolling onto her side to face the Arcewælcyrge. "I want to know more."

"It is a cultural powerhouse and maritime trader." Viola explains, still soothing her foot. "They are our eastern neighbours. Recently the country has been quiet as civil war has broken loose. Last we heard, a regional lord is trying to seize control from the Imperator."

"Sounds familiar." Unable to help herself, Natsuki reaches for the stiletto attached to Viola's back. Slipping the blade from its scabbard, her gaze lifts, noticing that Viola hadn't detected the action. Huh, how has she managed this?

"They once controlled our entire continent."

"But not anymore?"

"Physically, yes. Culturally they have not vanished from Windbloom. Lutesia still has a firm grip on the country in terms of negotiations and trade."

"Hm, well…" Natsuki sheepishly unsheathes the woman's stiletto, rolling onto her back then heaving up. Legs dangling from the end of the bed, she mumbles under her breath. Her body feels like lead. "How long have we been awake?"

"Twenty-four hours at least."

"Shit." Natsuki curses, slipping off her boots and loosening her gambeson. She cannot be bothered to even change out of her clothes. Natsuki flopped back down unceremoniously.

Soon after, Viola relents massaging her feet and twists around. "Natsuki, the covers. Are you not getting inside?" She unbrandishes her arsenal of weaponry, setting them on the nearby table. Her cuirass came next, making a neat pile by Natsuki's.

"I guess." An umpteenth sigh releases from Natsuki before she scrambles languidly up the bed. Slipping inside, she lies on her back, continuing her staring contest skywards. Until, that is, Viola looms over her.

"Tonight you will not take part in the Wall's defence. There is a shift rotation."

"Oh, thank the Gods'." Natsuki groans, relief transmuting into confusion when her Arcewælcyrge cups her cheeks. What is she doing? "Q-quit it—"

"I am proud of you, you know?" Viola confesses, resting the side of her lower half down beside Natsuki. "During the first shift exchange, Rila briefed me that you were excellent."

"All I did was supply arrows." Natsuki frowns, hesitantly grasping Viola's forearms.

"You were the flank's supply chain who was stocktaking at every possible moment." Viola points out. "Rila's rangers are the best in the Kingdom. Nobody has ever defeated her division. Though you may believe your role is insignificant, it is vital to the Wall's survival."

As Viola engages Natsuki closer, Miyú's potential insinuation to sex flashes within Natsuki's mind. An intense flush oozes across her face. "I-I—"She breathes, her hands tightening around Viola's forearms.

"Natsuki—?"

Panicking, she presses her hands to Viola's shoulders, pushing her away. "N-no!" The outburst shocks both women who freeze. Twisting her fingers into Viola's gambeson, she rambles. "S-sorry, I panic—" The feeling wanes, and in its place, confusion starts. What?

She stares at Viola's face which is so close and her eyes closed. O-oh… so that's… A deep-seeded tranquillity overcomes her upon the realisation that Viola is kissing her. As quickly as it commences, it soon ends.

Left breathless, the former Ánhere could do nothing but stare at her.

"I am sorry I spooked you." Viola smiles, petting her palm along Natsuki's forehead. "Let us sleep?"

"I huh… yeah…"

Alas, for Natsuki now finds herself being used as a pillow. Grunting as the Arcewælcyrge weighs into her, she mumbles under her breath. "Move, you're heavy."

"It must be the muscle."

A scoff releases from Natsuki, the exhale lifting Viola faintly. Ah, whatever. Sinking further into the mattress, Natsuki gave an exhausted yawn. "I'm blaming you if I can't sleep…"

In the end, it would be the late afternoon when Natsuki next awakens to the sounds of battle.

She is the first to rouse.

Gaze bleary, she transfers her view from the bed's curtain to a cascade of brunette hair. Embraced by warmth, muscle and a hint of sweat, Natsuki hums as she stretches her legs.

Outside she could hear the telltale signs of combat. From the sounds of it, the Wall's defence has just been initiated.

Lifting her head, she peers towards the crown-glass window. Apart from the distant glow of torchlight, she could see nothing. With this, she allows her head to flop back down into the pillows.

Somehow Viola hasn't woken up yet which is rather strange. After all, her Arcewælcyrge's senses are hawklike. She truly is tired, isn't she?

Natsuki hesitated momentarily before performing the next action; her fingertips brushing through brunette tresses. "Hm…" She still scarcely believes how their relationship has developed. Why had Natsuki gone from being absolutely terrified of this woman to—well, this?

Whatever this is? She does not know and that concerns her.

Natsuki's mind wanders back to the KEY Shrines. During that time she had been sincerely petrified. The genuine terror she had experienced and that sad existence on the waggon had remained with her. There is potential it will stay within the dark recesses of her mind until her death.

Which is… Natsuki gnaws her lip, musing.

An abrupt explosion outside spooks her, making her bite her lip. Hissing, she groans in pain—now Viola is awake.

"...Natsuki?" Viola partially prised upwards, her expression hazy. What scared her so much?

"Sorry… 'noise outside, bit my lip."

Palming Natsuki's face somewhat blindly, Viola grazed her mouth with her fingertips. An evident mark is found here, a flap of skin remaining uselessly. The flinch she receives in reward says as much; it had hurt Natsuki.

"I am sorry." The Arcewælcyrge immediately apologises, subtracting her hand. "It hurts, yes?"

"It sure does." Natsuki scowles. But oh, who cares. She has a deep wound forming a scar within her forearm. This is nothing.

"I suppose I ought to get up—ah, Natsuki?" Viola had moved her hands either side of Natsuki in order to rise. Natsuki has other plans; her arms looping around her torso, disallowing her to move.

"N-no, wait."

"Whatever is the matter?"

"...Too tired." Natsuki mumbles into her vest.

"Well… I was not notified that I am needed." The Arcewælcyrge instantly gave in, faltering into her former Ánhere. The temptation of this girl is far too much, isn't it?

After a quiet moment of this interaction continuing, Natsuki suddenly asks: "Can you teach me to use other weapons?"

Now this piqued Viola's interest. She rests her hands atop Natsuki's shoulders, saying: "You must be more specific, there are so many."

"Stop teasing me…"

"Sorry." Viola chuckles. "Nevertheless, what kind of weaponry would you like to learn?"

"I don't really know." Natsuki confesses. "Anything cool will do."

"Cool?" Viola smiles, receiving a palm to the mouth.

"You know what I mean! Weapons with that kind of aura! Like… like a scimitar, or something. I was thinking about it, because back then—" The insinuation of her previous life. "—I was trained to use batons."

Viola moved her hand, carcessing it. "Batons, you say? I knew of someone who used those during mine." Viola hums, thinking back to the Carnival. Akane is yet to appear here. Would she ever? "Do you think you can still use them?"

"M-maybe?" Natsuki feels nervous under the Arcewælcyrge's petting of her hand. However, her gaze veers for the window as another explosion reverberates. A myriad of yells follow along with eerie silence. She had almost forgotten there's a battle going on outside. "S-shouldn't we check what's happening?"

"It is fine. I was notified this is a daily occurrence. If we are needed, the servants will fetch us."

"Well… alright." Natsuki mumbles, falling silent again as she listens to the combat. There's a rush of activity upstairs—it sound like multiple people running around. Is there a weapon stockpile up there or something?

Hearing something clattering above, Natsuki started wondering how they had slept through all of this. "I sure haven't missed noise like this."

"Hm?"

"The dormitories at Garderobe—" Natsuki explains. "—It was so noisy at times." Then the moment Miss Maria stalked the corridors, silence would prevail. Oh, the respite she would receive from that! Reminiscing on days of yore, it actually saddens Natsuki to a degree.

She hated the sensation of loss and yearning. They intermingle into one of the worst experiences and is getting more severe lately. Ever since seeing her grave, in f—

"—I lived in Fuuka's accommodations. It was relatively quiet, but sometimes—"

"—It was a living nightmare?"

Viola chuckles. "It was certainly something. I did not realise that when music increases in volume, you can only hear its bass. The building quite literally would shake."

"Inconsiderate bastards." Natsuki muttered.

After a time, Natsuki released Viola and slipped out from beneath her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the blanket coils loosely around her. Gingerly touching along her busted lip, Natsuki examins her fingertips; a splodge of blood smearing one.

"What is wrong?"

"Bleeding."

No questions asked, the Arcewælcyrge prises herself from the bed and heads for a cabinet. Atop it is a basin, towel and jug. Collecting everything, she returns to Natsuki, setting everything on the floor. Whilst kneeling seiza, Natsuki wearily watches her pour water into the basin.

"This may sting." Viola warns, squeezing excess water from the towel and reaching towards Natsuki. Shuffling carefully on her knees, Viola then eases between Natsuki's legs, making Natsuki acutely self-conscious.

"W-watch it—" The former Ánhere mumbles nervously, leaning back against her hands slightly.

"Hush—it is fine." Upon the towel's contact with skin, a pained mumble muffled against it. After pressing down against the cut, Viola eases the towel away, inspecting it. "You certainly bit down hard. There is a lot of blood."

Just Natsuki's luck.

When this does not relent, Viola grasps Natsuki's hand and guides it to her mouth. "I will return shortly."

Viola heads for the door and unlocks it. Leaning partially out, she catches the attention of a servant within the corridor.

"Do you have any alcohol?"

Alc—oh no, not again. Natsuki's heart sinks upon the realisation. The alcohol used during her forearm's suturing had stung like a bitch. She certainly isn't looking forward to reliving that. Alas, the Wælcyrge could only sit there with the towel pressing her lips.

Soon Viola returns with a bottle—tankards included.

"It would be a shame if we did not drink this." Viola stops before Natsuki, reading the engraved bottle. Lutetice Anser DCCCXLIX. "It is Lutesian whiskey that is distilled during…" She rechecked the numerals. "—849." She uncorked the bottle, motioning for Natsuki to offer over the towel. "Would you care for a drink with me later, Natsuki?"

"If it doesn't kill me first."

"Come now, you are being overdramatic." Sitting beside Natsuki, Viola gingerly covers the bottle's end, allowing whiskey to seep into the fabric. Setting the bottle and tankards down on the floor carefully, she then partially turns to Natsuki.

"Relax." She says, cupping Natsuki's chin to guide her near. Covering Natsuki's mouth with the alcohol-soaked towel, she holds it there as Natsuki flinches.

Oh, isn't she just adorable!

Depending on whether Viola is needed, they will have the afternoon free. When did this last happen? Viola mulls upon this, watching the pain ebb away from Natsuki's face. "Is there anything you wish to do?" She asks her, easing the towel away.

Beads of blood stains the fabric, but Natsuki's lip doesn't seem to be bleeding as much.

"Can we leave the building?" Natsuki delicately touches along her lip, testing to see whether it bleeds. When it does, she takes the towel from her Arcewælcyrge.

"It is recommended we do not do so until the SLAVE activity has slowed down. Though the SLAVEs are controllable, the city is undergoing martial law." Natsuki looks at her with mild confusion. "The public—" Viola explains. "—There has been looting within the panic."

"Ah, 'makes sense."

An awkward silence forms.

"Sometimes…" Natsuki rests her forearms against her thighs, allowing the towel to droop between her knees. "I—" She does not know what she wants to say. Within frustration, she smears the heel of her palm against her temple. What is she trying to say?

A touch to her knee causes Natsuki's eyes to cast downwards. Viola has calmed the relentless bobbing of her leg.

Oh.

Natsuki shakes her head, letting her hand fall to clasp the Arcewælcyrge's own on her knee. "I don't know what I wanted to say."


XXI • CMI Moldedæg of Ærra Geola. Feorm of Gemænscipe
(The 21st Night Preceding Yuletide, Earl Day, 901)
The Feast of Community

A few minutes ago, one of the servants came knocking at their door.

She said that due to their timely arrival, a grand Yule feast has been organised. This year Yule has been mostly cancelled because of the SLAVEs. Other than this information, she is refusing to explain herself any further.

'I wonder why…?' Viola studies the servant's back who leads them down the winding corridors.

By her side is Natsuki who is still fussing with her lip. "Do not touch it." She rebukea her, seizing her wrist.

"I can't help it."

"Well, maybe I will simply have to hold your hand?"

Natsuki eyed her, mumbling incoherently before veering her gaze away.

"Stupid."

"What was that?" The Arcewælcyrge grins.

Unfortunately for them, their little performance is interrupted by the servant. They have already arrived at the location, it seems.

"Down this corridor are the stewards, they will take you to your seats."

"Thank you." Viola nods, moving forward as the servant stood aside for them. However, she is halted moments later, for Natsuki will not budge. After all, she's still holding Natsuki's wrist. "What is wrong?" She partially turns to regard the younger woman.

The servant leaves, head bowing. Whether this is to mind her own business or hide her amusement is unknown.

"I'm embarrassed." Natsuki mumbles only when she believes the servant is out of earshot.

"Whyever for?"

"The whole intimacy thing!"

Oh, bless Natsuki. Truly, her former Ánhere is adorable.

Before Natsuki knows it, she's sitting at a crowded table near the front. By rank they're seated. On the opposite side are John Smith, Haruka, Chie and Sarah. On Natsuki's side is Viola, herself, Laura and Fiar. Meanwhile, heading the table is Rila, the Royal Commander.

She still can't understand this strange hierarchy. Further down the table she spots Shiro and the Hauscarles. Where are Nao and Yukino? Aren't they considered important? It makes no sense to her… nevertheless, Natsuki's eyes transfer to her surroundings.

Mistletoe, holly, dried leaves and an odd collection of bells are scattered across this table.

She's unsure whether to marvel or find this feast disgustful. Platters, bowls, wooden slabs—anything—is filled to the brim. There is everything imaginable. From pork, pigeon, peacock, swan, goose, rabbit, hare, badger, venison, lamb—the list continued.

An assortment of alcohol is available—all of wine, mead and cider.

Bread, cheeses, vegetables, herbs, honey—you name it, everything's here.

As ridiculous as this all sounds, this preposterousness merely increases. "...Is that a rabbit's head sewn to a swan?" Natsuki's face scrunches up, staring at the thing on the platter before her. The swan's head has quite literally been chopped off and replaced by a rabbit's.

"Not quite entirely." Viola murmurs, idly rotating her wooden tankard on the table. "The swan's back has been stitched shut. Another animal is inside."

"B-but why?" Natsuki is clearly aghast.

"The nobility need to find amusement somehow." Chie chuckles on the other side of the table. "My father once had our servants sew ten chicken wings to a hare." Receiving a mere stare, she continues. "Sometimes it's done to symbolise legendary creatures of yore. But mostly it's just because we can."

"Interesting." Natsuki could only mumble, taking a large gulp of her cider. Ugh. Even though her lip stings, she feels the need for a few more pints of this.

"This—" At the head of the table, Rila rises from her chair, ringing one of the bells. The small instrument resonates throughout the banquet hall, signalling for the occupiers to silence. "—is a community feast which we have organised for you. Due to current circumstances, much of Yuletide has been cancelled. Instead—" She placed down the bell gingerly, disallowing it to ring out. "—we shall together celebrate community, memory, the Moon, Sun and our Wælcyrge as we did during Arcewælcyrge Mosse's time."

All eyes within the hall turned to their Wælcyrge.

"As is customary, we will open this feast with the First Night's traditional prayer." The Royal Commander summons a close-by servant who carries a scroll. Taking it from him, she rolls it open and raises her voice for all to hear.

"Hail to this day, and behold the sons of day.

Hail to the night, and to the daughters of the night.

Look upon us with kind eyes, and grant us courage.

Hail to this green Earl that gives to us all.

Show us good speech and wisdom.

Grant us healing hands and joy in this life. Hail…

Hail to the Gods who once loved us and have abandoned us."

Upon the conclusion of this prayer, cheers echoe in the hall, and the feast officially starts.

"Oh, Chie." Viola caught the Knight-Commander's attention. "Whatever is that story regarding the deer?"

"Oh, don't get me started!" A servant pulled up behind Chie, the slinged woman pointing to several portions of food. These were quickly hauled onto her plate, as well as cut up for the injured Knight-Commander. "One of the servant's had the grand idea of sticking heads all over it. All. Over. It. I don't think I'll ever look at a deer's arse the same way again." She sighs.

Natsuki is confident that no, she does not want to know.

Leaning forward in her chair, she reaches for portions of food. Pincering them between her carving knife and two-pronged fork, she takes a variety of things. All except… she pauses, staring at a plate of… whatever that is.

"That is marchpane." Viola says, having been watching her with amusement. "It is a sugar sculpture eaten for dessert."

"That's… edible?" Natsuki stares at it. This marchpane is an elaborate castle with tall spires. The amount of detail is ludicrous! Every single brick has been intricately carved into this dessert. "I feel the need to ask why again." She mutters with mental exhaustion.

"Wait until you see the suckets." Chie tells her.

"The what?"

Before the Knight-Commander could explain herself, Rila suddenly appears between Natsuki and Viola.

"Come with me for a moment."

The two Wælcyrge do so, being led out of the noisy hall and into another room. Here is a motley of all sorts of things. From hung clothes, foodstuff, weapons, beer—are those crowns?

"Today is the Second Night of Yuletide—the Feast of Community." Rila notifies as she closes the door behind them. The sound from the hall gets drowned out by the door, giving them respite. "If by luck, miracle or fate, you came to us during Yule."

"Oh, of course." Viola realised, only now noticing the connection. "Tomorrow will also be Night of the Ancestors."

It is an important event to mark the conclusion of Yuletide's First Quarter. It's a harrowing thought as many of their ancestors are now shambling cadavers.

"Though, you said that Yuletide has mostly been cancelled." Viola reminds Rila. "Will there only be a few nights celebrated?"

Natsuki meanwhile, wanders over to the crowns set upon crimson cushions. One is made from solid gold and bejewelled in all manner of gems. So many in fact, she cannot identify some of them. There were amethysts, rubies, garnets—and even pearls? This thing is probably worth ten of her life times.

The other crown meanwhile, is a brilliant silver coronet enshrouded in black metallic feathers. Like the other, this is decorated with masterfully cut gems: Quartz crystals, emeralds, coral and… is that onyx?

"We are indeed." Rila ushers Viola next to Natsuki. "As you're our Wælcyrge, I would like you both to perform the mead ceremony." She turns to Viola. "Do you remember when you did this with Anh?"

"It has… been a while." Viola confirms, her attention moving to two servants who have just entered. Within their arms were two beautiful cloaks of surprising origin.

"Are those made from feathers?" Natsuki asks as one of the servants steps before her.

"They are." Rila says, circling around her momentarily. The young Wælcyrge is donning her sword and gambeson—good. She summons the servant holding the black cloak. "You may put this on. It is made from raven feathers."

Raven feathers.

Natsuki stares at it in awe as the servant eyes her expectantly. Oh. She sheepishly turns around for him, immediately surprised by its weightlessness.

"It suits you." Rila commented. "A lot."

"You think so?" Gods' though, it's so light! Natsuki strokes along one of the feathers, pausing when Rila steps forward. The Royal Commander clipped the cloak together by its broach, this jewellery sporting the Windbloom star.

"I wouldn't tell you, otherwise." Rila grins, reaching for Natsuki's Anchor. The crystal gets alleviated briefly, now resting against the feathered cloak. "Make sure your Anchor is visible. It is a Wælcyrge's most important asset."

Next came the silver coronet.

All the while throughout the dressing, Natsuki had not noticed Viola.

Upon the coronet being placed atop Natsuki's head, she turns her sights on her Arcewælcyrge. Breath blown away, all she could do is feast her eyes upon Viola. The elder Wælcyrge is positioning the golden crown atop her own head, adjusting it carefully.

"She's—"

"—Beautiful, right?" The Royal Commander leans in, hushing into her ear. "Wælcyrge have two other names, actually. The Ravenmaiden and Swanmaiden."

"Those are swan feathers?" Natsuki whispers back. Edging faintly closer to Rila's voice as she gawks at Viola. Suddenly, viridian and crimson lock, and Natsuki feels excessively nervous suddenly. "H-huh."

"Go get her!" Rila joyously teases, giving her back a firm push.

Sent careening forward, Natsuki staggers into Viola's front. "S-sorry." She grumbles, but her eyes catch sight of an argent feather. It glides between their bodies, soundlessly falling to the floorboards below.

Kneeling down, she delicately picks up the feather, offering it to the Arcewælcyrge afterwards.

Silence plummets into the room and Natsuki has no idea why.

"You…" Viola is uncharacteristically shocked.

B-but what has she done?! Natsuki helplessly threw Rila a look whose eyebrows have lifted in surprise. To the servants she gazes, these peering elsewhere the moment she looks.

"Natsuki… I know you do not realise what you have done, so I will tell you." Viola says after a long pause. She motions for Natsuki to come forward, whispering into her ear. "To take the feather of a Wælcyrge is to take her hand in marriage."

Hand in—Natsuki's brow furrowed, unable to process this information quickly. Soon it did register, and a furious blush overcame her. "I—wait, what—"

Her Arcewælcyrge did not betray a hint of deceit. But alas, for the mead has just arrived…

Natsuki would not live this down anytime soon.


A/N: Who is "Sergius"? That's just Sergei. In the Otome Manga his name is Sergei August Taiki. Here he is the Imperator (Emperor) of Remus. His full name is Imperator Sergius Augustus Tiberius the Cruel. I had a lot of fun adjusting his name.

The Mai anime series has multiple John Smiths. I used Sifr's portrayal of John Smith since he's more intimidating.

For mediaeval table manners in England, there are a lot of social rules. I chose not to include some of them else the scene would become cluttered. To surmise them, here's a list:

- You were to bring your own knife and spoon (during the early centuries forks were seen as trashy). Bringing your own was due to hygiene.
- You washed your hands before and after the meal.
- Your seat depended entirely upon your social rank. Queen/King - Princess/Prince - Duchess/Duke - etc.
- When the food arrived, the servants/slaves presented it facing the highest ranked at all times. This would follow with multiple bows (lowering of the body, arm to the small of the back. Once the food was served, they would then continue this process backwards.
- This food was served to the highest ranks and moved down the table until eventually reaching the servants and then the slaves.
- Water was dangerous due to contamination and disease. Nearly everyone drank alcohol, including young children.

Now onto the review title awards! Yeah, you read that right.

Elizabeth Charlotte for the most reviews — 30 plus reviews, wow!
Cthulhu-Anne for being the most amusing —
༼ง ͟͠ل͜ ͠ຈ༽ ΨᴥΨ ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ ͜ʖ
Darwater for being the most enthusiastic — Deny Society, return to ShizNat.
Lastly, to PaperMasks for our recent discussions lately.

I recently updated Renascence. On the 1st June 2023 it will receive 15k more words. Alongside this, my decision will be made whether to continue it. Its continuation depends entirely upon reader engagement. If it has no critique and interest (critical reviews, not "pls updat author-sensei"), I will simply assume silent readers don't care. No, adding it to your alerts or favourites does not count. This tells me nothing. Am I being a bitch? Yes, because almost everyone ignores my questions.