Author's Note: I've basically concluded that Ochette is the glue that holds this group together. Also, with this chapter I'm caught up with exporting the current chapters from Ao3 to this site. Meaning that from this point onward, updates are going to be more or less synchronized.

Chapter 6: Crackridge Anchorage

The ship had arrived at Crackridge Anchorage by morning. Everyone seemed like they had a decent amount of sleep...a luxury that Crick felt sorely deprived of. There was too much on his mind, which prevented him from getting as much sleep as he should have.

You see, Temenos' sudden departure meant that it fell to Crick to tell a story in his place. Thus, he found himself recounting the battle with the Felvarg. Leaving out key points (such as the evidence that Temenos found) left a sour taste in his mouth, but Crick didn't see a reason to divulge that information. Temenos might trust them well enough, but Crick frankly had a harder time of it.

Besides, he hadn't expected this storytelling hour to last much longer than this. Temenos' departure meant that Throné and Osvald were the final two. While Crick wasn't so sure about Throné being willing to tell a story, Osvald most likely would not. The scholar had proven to be a quiet sort, not talking unless he deemed it necessary.

After a moment of silence, Throné spoke up; "I'm not the best at this storytelling thing...but why not? Might as well."

Then she launched into her story. Strangely enough, her story was that of a captive snake who wished for freedom. She had spent her whole life taking from others to survive, until she found herself fighting a childhood friend. It was when she came out of that battle victorious that she realized that freedom wasn't just going to come to her; the snake needed to fight for her own freedom.

"So she set off, looking for the ones that placed her in captivity in the first place...her parents," Throné finished. "Because the only way she could ever be free is to take their lives."

It would only be in hindsight that Crick would realize why Throné chose to end her story there.

Crick hadn't expected to be wrong about Osvald's willingness to talk, so it shocked him when the scholar spoke up. He spoke of a man who had an idyllic life - a beautiful family, a thriving career and an overall pleasant life in the Harborlands - until a colleague murdered his family and framed him for it. The innocent man was imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, and lost five years of his life for it. After he made his escape, he had absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back and the fire in his breast - burning with anger and the desire to kill the colleague who took everything from him.

Unlike with Throné's story, there was absolutely no doubt that the story Osvald told was his own. Even if Osvald had framed the story like he was telling someone else's tale, there could be no other explanation for how his eyes burned with more emotion than Crick had ever seen on him.

To say that Crick was distressed would be an understatement. Osvald's case was not unfamiliar to him at all; he recalled hearing about it during his training to become a Sanctum Knight. Familicide was a heinous crime, and it did not take much for the gossips within the Sacred Guard to dismiss the accused as guilty. Crick was not one to partake in gossip, but at the time he found himself agreeing. As much as he disagreed with his own parents, the thought of killing them never even crossed his mind. How someone could do that was beyond him. Learning that the defendant had been framed put a whole other perspective on the case, and Crick felt horrible.

Suffice to say, sleep did not come easily for Crick that night.

Temenos was oddly quiet this morning. Crick had no way of knowing how Ochette's story would have affected him, but it seemed like there was more to this than Temenos would have liked to let on. His sluggish movements and the way he instantly gravitated towards the first place that offered coffee spoke of his exhaustion more than anything else. Crick found himself wondering if he also got a sleepless night.

Ochette seemed to pick up on Temenos' exhaustion as well. She approached Crick without the usual pep in her step. In fact, she seemed almost guilty as she called out, "Hey, Bro?"

"Yes?" Crick answered. At that moment, he found himself unable to contain his curiosity any further; "Apologies, but I've been meaning to ask...why call me that?"

"You mean Bro?" Ochette tilted her head as she answered, "It was actually hard thinkin' of a nickname for you at first. I did think about Cricket, but that's Mahina's favorite food. I don't want to disappoint her every time I call for you."

"Understandable," Crick nodded, although he did not truly understand. From what little he knew of malamowls, they were intelligent creatures with a talent for magic. Surely Mahina would not get confused if she went with that nickname for him...right?

"Then I thought about when we first met," Ochette continued. "I offered you food because you smelled like a really nice person - kind of like a big brother. So I went with 'Bro'!"

Crick had to remind himself that there was no way for Ochette to know how the sentiment would feel like a knife through the heart. He was actually the youngest in his family, so nothing stopped him from linking the sentiment to his own older brother.

Before Crick could ruminate on this, Ochette spoke up again; "So, is Temmy doing okay? He left so suddenly last night, and he looks super tired today. Is that my fault?"

"No! No, I don't believe so," Crick answered. Between his haste to assuage her worries and the fact that she got Osvald of all people to open up, Crick realized that Ochette was truly a force to be reckoned with. "We started traveling together rather recently. You had no way of knowing how Temenos would react to your story. In truth, his actions were a surprise for me as well."

"Oh." Ochette seemed genuinely confused. "Aren't you two friends?"

Crick had no answer for that. Yes, there was some kind of trust there - if only because they both found the pontiff's body and faced the Felvarg together. Crick honestly didn't think he would see Temenos again once the news of his reassignment reached him, but that assumption was rather short-lived. Being Temenos' bodyguard naturally meant traveling together...did that make them friends?

Was that reassignment Aelfric's way of saying that they should be? Temenos, quite possibly the most infuriating, stubborn, clever (and unfairly pretty) cleric he had ever met?

Crick should have been able to pinpoint how he felt about the concept of being Temenos' friend. The fact that he couldn't was downright unsettling.

"Crick, a word."

Crick didn't object when Temenos called him over. In fact, he was relieved; after last night, hopefully he would get some kind of idea as to what bothered him so much. While he didn't know what Temenos wished to speak of, surely it was related in some fashion?

He had long since lost count of how many surprises Temenos would throw at him. This was just another to add to the pile.

"Back in Flamechurch, the Deputy said she would brief you of your duties as my bodyguard before she left Flamechurch, yes?" Temenos said. "If I were to ask you what exactly she said, would you tell me?"

What a strange question. Crick thought back to that moment; that particular briefing was, well...quite brief. Between Crick's haste to pack his things and the Deputy's own haste to leave Flamechurch, that conversation had lasted little more than five minutes. Because of this, there was not much that Deputy Cubayri could have said that she had not already; wherever Temenos went, he went. To be ready to lay down his own life if need be. These went without saying, as a Sanctum Knight and as a bodyguard.

When Crick told him as much, Temenos' mouth seemed to form into a flat line and his eyes narrowed. "That was truly all? Nothing worth noting?"

The Deputy's voice seemed to echo in Crick's mind at this; "I assume you've heard plenty about him from the other knights, so I'll be brief. Be mindful of who you're guarding. Temenos is far too mistrusting of the Order."

Crick pursed his lips at the memory. By that time, he had already figured that much about Temenos. A cleric so brazen as to openly question the gods clearly had some kind of mistrust. In fact, he wore his doubt like it was a badge of honor. Still, Crick found some degree of truth in actions speaking louder than words. So he did not think too much on Deputy Cubayri's warning until just now. To think of an Inquisitor that did not trust the church...

"...I don't think I should say. Not because she swore me to secrecy," Crick hastily added when he noticed Temenos' eyes narrow even further. "It's, um...not very nice."

Temenos exhaled through his nose. Oddly, he seemed to relax at that answer.

"Did she say I was sickening, or too loud?"

Crick was thrown off. "What?"

"I'm not oblivious to the Sacred Guard's opinion of me, least of all hers." Temenos crossed his arms. "So, I can take it. What did she say?"

Despite Temenos' words, Crick hesitated before he answered; "She said you were too mistrusting of the Order."

Temenos' eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "I must admit, I'm impressed. I hear those two insults coming from her mouth so often. I would have thought that was all she could say about me."

Crick chose to ignore the jab Temenos launched at the Deputy's vocabulary. He wanted to come to her defense - that the Deputy had earned her rank through dedication and hard work like he had, and that she was a force to be reckoned with in a battle. It was simply for the sake of keeping the peace that Crick did not.

"So it's true?" he questioned. "About your mistrust?"

"Sometimes a brave soul will express discontent with the way things are run," Temenos answered. Something in his expression seemed to darken as he continued, "Not even members of the clergy are immune to that sort of discontent."

That wasn't a direct confirmation...but it wasn't a denial, either.

"Why?" Crick questioned. "I would have thought an Inquisitor-"

Temenos' expression seemed to contort for a quick moment (which concerned Crick greatly, for he thought that Temenos was hurt). "I just realized, our supply of grapes is running rather low. Shall I fetch you some as well, little lamb?"

Crick stopped and stared with wide eyes as Temenos turned on his heel and walked back to the little booth. Any concern he may have felt for Temenos' well-being was replaced with exasperation (and some anger). He really was infuriating! "Temenos, wait! I'm not-!"

That was when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jolted when he realized that it was Osvald that had approached.

"Leave him be," the scholar told him. Coming from him, Crick couldn't help thinking like it was some kind of command. What Osvald said next came as a surprise; "Give him time to wake up. He likely got less sleep than you did last night."

Crick would have had a hard time believing this if it was said by anyone else...but this was Osvald. He had proven to be very observant, to the point where he rivaled Temenos' level of perception. As much as Crick disagreed with his and Throné's...methods, Osvald's intelligence could not be denied.

"Truly?" Crick questioned. "I had no idea."

"You're ignorant of many things."

Crick tried his hardest to not flinch at Osvald's blunt assessment of him. Unperturbed, the scholar continued, "Still, you are young. You have time to learn."

"Learn what?" Crick's exasperation got the better of him, and he continued, "That stealing from others is the best way to survive in this life?"

Osvald's eyebrow quirked, and took the words with a remarkable level of calmness. "I never said that. Besides, very few people steal simply because they want to."

That shut Crick right up; the shame prevented him from forming any kind of comeback. Osvald took a moment to observe the knight's expression, which Crick noted with a bit of anxiety. What information could Osvald glean from scrutinizing him?

Osvald then said, "I'm only telling you this because we travel together, and will likely continue to do so for the foreseeable future. In my experience, a person's perspective can be boiled down to what they can and cannot accept. The more a person cannot accept, the more likely they are to act in ignorance."

Crick almost asked what brought this on, but he was certain that the man did not like repeating himself. This was probably the most he had heard the man talk at all. Instead, he simply pursed his lips and waited.

"My point being, it's not wise to jump to conclusions," Osvald continued. "It doesn't matter to me whether you take that advice to heart. But bear in mind that our traveling group may still get larger with time. What will you do then?"

Crick would have been embarrassed to admit that he hadn't thought about that. After all...if someone had told the Crick of the past that he would find himself in a group of myriad travelers, he would not have believed it. Who was to say that they wouldn't pick up some new travelers on the way to Canalbrine?

"...I'll give your words some thought," he finally conceded. After an awkward pause, he added; "I admit, it's hard to get used to."

Was he talking about traveling with so many different people, or the idea of broadening his perspective? Crick couldn't be sure of the answer; both terrified him for different reasons.

"Change of that magnitude doesn't happen overnight," Osvald nodded. "But so long as you make some kind of effort, I'll not judge."

Crick nodded. "Thank you."

"Hm." Osvald nodded, and said nothing more. A clear indicator that he was done talking, now that he had said his piece.

Mercifully, Crick didn't have much time to ruminate on Temenos and Osvald's words. The four had regrouped not long after, and they went on their way. Things fell into step, as if they had never left the Brightlands; Temenos and Throné's banter, Ochette's enthusiasm, and Osvald's silence.

Not quite as mercifully (for Crick, anyway), their first step was to walk through the Leaflands.