When Clive pulled the curtain away from the front door to check who could have been outside, he was surprised to find the young girl who had pointed him in the direction of Honza during the trouble with the Cast Stones all those weeks before. The child's eyes lit up with recognition as she beheld Clive.

"You! You helped before, with the pickpocket thing!" She exclaimed. "Please, I need help again – have you seen Honza around anywhere?"

Clive knelt so that he was on her level and replied, "I haven't seen Honza, no. Why?"

The girl deflated. "He said he'd meet us at the peach vendor this morning, but he never showed up! And when we asked around, nobody'd seen him! I'm worried…"

Clive's feet were a little sore, but the stone had faded completely from his skin and the pain was nothing he could not manage. Joshua had ordered him to stay put in the house for his safety, but Clive could handle himself, especially with Torgal by his side. Torgal had been pacing the whole morning; it was obvious the hound was growing antsy with being kept inside. And if it was only a search for a missing child…

How dangerous could it truly be?

"I'll look for him," Clive declared and drew himself back up to his full height with a nod. "Torgal and I will make fast work of this. Why don't you go to the peach vendor and wait? Honza might just be running late and still turn up there."

"Thank you, sir!" The girl called and turned to head back to the market.

Clive retrieved a hunting knife from the storeroom, bemoaning the absence of the lovely blade he had lost in the battle on Origin, and pulled the hood of his cloak up to cover his face.

"Wait!" Kihel cried when she saw he was making to leave. "You can't just—"

"I'll be right back," Clive said briefly and stepped out into the daytime sun with Torgal at his side. "Well, boy, what say we try to find some clues?"

Torgal woofed softly and wagged his tail, clearly happy to be on the move once more.

Clive patted the wolf's head. "That's what I thought."

()

Later, when Clive and his dear companions would be relaxing upon the deck of the Enterprise as she sailed away from the bay bordering Boklad, Clive would explain that he truly believed the search for Honza would be a simple, safe task. He would say that the true danger of the mission did not reveal itself until it was far too late to return to Kihel's house and await help. When describing where it all began to go wrong, he would neglect to mention that the three suspicious men he asked for information directed him toward Laetney's Cleft with no true details about Honza's location. He would fail to mention that all three of the men he asked noticed his scar and focused with some intensity on Torgal's presence and Clive's lack of a formidable weapon.

Obviously, there was no way Clive could have predicted that his search for Honza would go so wrong.

Obviously.

Clive had forgotten how stiflingly hot and dry the Steps of the Forgotten became in the Dhalmekian sunlight, close to the coast though the area was. His and Torgal's walk toward Laetney's Cleft was slow due to Clive's sore feet, but Torgal seemed to have fun bullying the local fauna and Clive enjoyed watching him have fun. Buoyed, Clive soldiered on.

The pair of them approached Laetney's Cleft and after searching for several moments, Clive found no trace of Honza nor, indeed, anyone else. He was about to turn and leave when a piece of fabric fluttered in the breeze and caught his attention. Stuck in a crack in the tall rock face was a remnant from a cloth sack of some variety – not of interest and not of note. Clive sighed, slightly miffed at being directed to a dead end on his search.

Behind him, Torgal growled.

"My, my, seems that bastard finally told a truth – Cid the Outlaw, an' his mutt, too."

Clive winced and turned to find himself and Torgal surrounded by who Clive could only imagine were remnants of the Cast Stones poised to take vengeance for their fallen comrades.

Damn it all. Joshua was going to murder him.

Torgal stood dutifully between Clive and the Cast Stones men, snarling with his mouth open. Clive thought he spied lightning arcing between Torgal's teeth.

"You know what you've done," the leader hissed, drawing a shortsword from his waist, "let's cut to the point, shall we?"

Clive pulled out his knife and spun it between his fingers a few times.

"We shall," Clive replied. "Sic 'em, Torgal!"

()

The fight was longer and bloodier than most of Clive's skirmishes, bereft as he was of the magics of which he could typically make use. By the time he had killed only one of the Cast Stones zealots, Clive's knife was nigh useless and he was forced to hastily retrieve the fallen man's sword to use for himself. Fighting without magic was far more work. He recalled the days of training before he had received the Blessing of the Phoenix – Lord Murdoch hauling him out of the bailey and to the physicker by the arm, Clive bloodied and bruised because he had overestimated his speed or strength, again.

Clive's stolen blade flashed through the air, through the throat of one of his attackers, and through the belly of another. From several meters away, he could hear men screaming while lightning struck during one of Torgal's leaps.

There was only one man still near Clive.

Clive whipped off his cloak and flung it at the man before dashing after it and slashing his blade diagonally with as much force as he could muster. The man's body collapsed to the ground with a thud beneath the discarded cloak. Clive looked to his right to see Torgal's teeth around one's throat, his muzzle dripping with pink and red viscera.

Four, Clive counted quickly, and Torgal took care of three – where were the other five?

Over to his left – four corpses on the ground, red seeping across the dusty soil. There was only one Cast Stones member left standing, and there was a silver blade stuck right through his chest.

The thin blade was pulled backwards and out of the wound it had made. When the man collapsed to the dusty ground aided by a leather boot, a woman appeared from behind him.

How was she here?

She whipped her rapier through the air once to dispense with the crimson which covered it. Her silver hair was mussed, there were tired circles beneath her furious icy blue eyes, and blood was splattered across her face. Jill Warrick looked exhausted and angry beyond all reason.

And Clive had never seen anyone more beautiful in all his life.

"Jill!" The name came from his mouth, though he did not consciously say it.

Jill focused on him.

"Clive…" Jill exhaled sharply and the anger drained from her expression.

Between one breath and the next, Jill had trembling arms wrapped tightly around Clive's shoulders, her face pressed against his neck. Clive settled an arm about her waist and clasped the back of her head with his other hand and just held.

"You're alive," Jill murmured shakily against his skin. Her voice was choked with disbelief. "You came back to me."

Clive's heart ached. She had thought him dead? How long had she held the weight of that grief?

"I promised, didn't I?" Clive turned his head slightly to press his lips to her hair. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

A wild, strangled sob ripped out of Jill's throat and when she drew back to appraise Clive more fully there were tears running down her lovely face, dragging the blood in the damp paths they made.

"And you—" her breath hitched, "you're unharmed."

"Hale and whole," Clive confirmed softly. He reached out and brushed what tears he could see from her cheeks with his thumbs, but more only appeared when he did so. "Oh, Jill…" His throat grew tight. He so hated seeing her cry, and moisture brimmed in his own eyes.

She captured his hands and held them against her face as though she were afraid of letting him go. Jill's shoulders shook a little with the effort to contain herself.

"Come here?" Clive asked, loathe to part from her.

Jill sniffled and returned to his arms. Clive held her gladly and simply marveled. How was Jill here? Why?

When Clive had laid on the beach staring up at the moon, he had resigned himself to never seeing Jill again. He had come to terms with the fact that he would die and that all he could leave her was a world free of the cage Ultima had made. He had imagined Jill and Torgal at the bow of a sailboat off to somewhere new and mysterious – the adventure would continue without Clive, and the pain of that knowledge had been crushing, but that was alright. Jill deserved her freedom, at least, in any form it took. In any form she wanted it to take, on her own terms.

Clive had made peace with dying on that beach, but he gladly would have sold the moon's silvery glow, Metia's fiery shimmering, and each and every other star in the sky to hold Jill once more. He might even have sold his own newfound freedom to feel as powerful as he did when she stood at his side. That he lived, now, to hold her and stand beside her again was more than Clive felt he had the right to ask for.

Her tears soaked into his shirt.

"All is well," Clive assured quietly, "and if anything is not, we will make it well." He held her as tight as he dared, and the two of them swayed gently back and forth.

"You are in so much trouble," Jill declared after a time, laughing a little even through her tears. "Joshua is in a rage," she said, "you'll be lucky to leave that encounter unscathed."

Oh, Clive could imagine Joshua's anger. Clive had intended to search for and find Honza in a much quicker fashion than had transpired, and he certainly had not intended to be beset by indignant members of the Cast Stones in the process. Where Clive had expected to be away from Kihel's home for only a few moments…

And, indeed, how much upset had he caused Jill?

"Would the good Lady Warrick come to rescue me from the ire of my brother, as she spared me from the blades of my assassins?" Clive asked.

Jill pulled back slightly from their coupling to look upon Clive's face. To Clive's immense relief, Jill appeared as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The light of mirth was once again at home in her eyes.

"Not a chance," Jill asserted. "You've sown and now you must reap – murderous little brother and all."

"Then I will endure the wrath of the Archduke Regent and endeavor to return to your side once more," Clive gathered up Jill's left hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles while holding her gaze, "My Lady."

And Founder, instead of even wishing for an embrace, Clive would certainly have sold all the heavenly bodies simply to see her smile like that again. He looked upon her, solidly awestruck and stunned into silence.

"If you believe you'll be going anywhere without me, you are sorely mistaken," Jill replied.

She slid her hands into Clive's hair, pulled his head down, and kissed him hard.

Clive and Jill stood together, wrapped up in each other in the sunlight, invincible.

()

Before Jill, Clive, and Torgal started back to Kihel's house to meet up with everyone else, Jill took the time to greet Torgal. The hound padded his way up to meet her with his tail wagging rapidly.

Jill knelt next to Torgal and rested her head on his while smoothing the fur behind his ears.

"You left the Hideaway to search for him, didn't you?" Jill asked, "You found him. Thank you, Torgal. Thank you so much for finding him."

"Finest hound in all the realm," Clive added. He delivered his own pats to Torgal's back and the hound grumbled at him contentedly. "Shall we go?" Clive asked while extending his hand.

"Let's," Jill said and accepted it.

Clive imagined they made quite the terrifying sight, bloodied and dirtied though they were from their scuffle, but all care for the perception of others faded from his mind with Jill's fingers tangled in his.

The three of them began the walk back to Kihel's house.

((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))

Torgal had not planned on killing any men that day, though the activity had brought him back to Jill, so he could not complain.

Protecting Jill was Torgal's third job, and Torgal knew this for several reasons.

The first was that Clive had told him so under his breath one day when Jill fled from a room in tears. The woman in the long dress who had caused such upset followed afterwards, smugness rolling off her in waves.

"We need to keep her safe from my mother," Clive had sighed and rested his chin on Torgal's tiny head, "else I fear she may shatter to pieces."

The second was that Jill smelled so much like Torgal's first home – ice, snow, frozen, the pack was stalking foxes through the cold and the moon was bright and full overhead, but Torgal's legs were too small and he was not fast enough to follow through the tall snowdrifts, and by the time he made it through the pack was gone and he could not find them, he was small, he was too small – and Torgal needed to protect the only piece of home he had found.

The third was that when Torgal first met Jill, it felt as if he were huddled up with his pack once more. Her presence was cool and comforting, and when he fell asleep near her he would swear that long-nailed, frigid hands carded through his fur and icy lips pressed to his muzzle. Something simply felt correct.

So, protecting Jill was Torgal's third job.

Satisfied that Clive and Jill both were within range once more, Torgal happily led the way back to the home of the child and the sire she had adopted.

((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))

Gav didn't want to admit it, but he had been worried.

Clive's brother was alive, the Prince was alive, and Clive himself was alive, but Gav had only seen two of the three of them and everyone's search for Clive had turned up nothing.

They'd found 'Honza' at the marketplace safe and sound, and that was all well and good, but Jill, Clive, and Torgal had all been missing.

His relief when the trio had appeared in front of Kihel's house nearly knocked him over.

They'd been covered in blood but unharmed, themselves, and as soon as he could Gav had dragged Clive into a hug.

"You didn't come back before Tarja found out I was in charge, you shit," Gav had choked out, "the woman was practically breathin' fire and I had to hide for days!"

"Good to see you, too, Gav," Clive had chuckled.

Gav had scarcely relinquished his hold on Clive when Joshua's fist came out of nowhere and slammed into Clive's jaw with a force Gav was surprised the man could muster from his lanky arms. Clive had rocked back on his heels, stunned.

"I deserved that," Clive had admitted without any anger.

"Yes you did, you fool!" The younger Rosfield had spat. Gav thought he looked rather like a puffed-up coeurl when he was angry. "You should count yourself lucky it was Jill who found you as I might've let your attackers finish their work!"

"No, you wouldn't have," Clive stated. He sounded entirely sure of himself and completely serious.

And Joshua's coeurl-like demeanor faded and he defeatedly muttered, "No, I wouldn't have," in agreement.

Jill was sneakily wiping at her eyes when she thought people couldn't see, and Gav caught her looking between Clive and Joshua as they tossed words back and forth with a gentle smile on her face.

Gav figured the lot of them would be having a conversation later about safety and some such else, but he allowed himself to simply stand peacefully in the knowledge that his best friend had saved the whole bloody world and managed to return alive. He also delivered a scratch or two behind Torgal's ears and made sure to thank him for going after Clive – the poor boy had put in a great deal of work, after all.

Maybe more than a scratch or two, Gav allowed, sitting on the floor beside Torgal and rubbing the wolf's belly while the others worked to remove the blood and gore from his fur.

((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))

It was perplexing, to say the least.

Mid had followed the journey of the tender boat across the water to the shore outside of Boklad and watched her friends disembark through her spyglass to ensure they arrived safely. Hours after the three of them made landfall, the strength of the currents just waned. A real head-scratcher, that.

The Enterprise simply sat in the placid waters of the bay waiting for its passengers to return with news, or Joshua and Dion and Torgal, or…or with nothing at all.

Mid had to prepare herself for if Jill, Jote, and Gav found nothing at all, because they bloody well might. Boklad had been a shot in the dark in the first place, with Gav's last scout only telling them that the men with Torgal had gone north from where he'd seen them near the Dzemekys lookout. Boklad was a good guess, and Mid was willing to try anywhere, but it was still just a guess.

So Mid found herself hoping, again.

Hoping for the men themselves and the hound that led them, or information about where they had run off to now, or—or anything, really.

She hoped that if Clive was alive, he was somewhere safe. Mid's dad had drilled it into her – you can live for three minutes with no air, three days with no water, and three weeks with no food. What if Clive had been somewhere, alive, but couldn't get fresh water? It had been more than a week since Origin fell, and…

Mid scribbled out the routes she'd marked on the map of Storm in the galley. Not there, because Gav had scouts in those mountains and none'd seen them, not that way because what was left of the Men of the Rock were staged there, not that way…

She put the charcoal down. What if they'd gotten through the Trader's Gate, somehow, and were in the ruins of Twinside? Could they have crossed the strait to Ash? Would they have managed in the wild currents that plagued the strait? Would Mid need to search Ash?

A bell rang, and Mid stood from her seat to make her way to the main deck so she could greet the returners.

The afternoon sun was bright and hot, and again Mid had to raise an arm to shield her eyes when she encountered it after so long in the dimly lit galley.

"Youse took your sweet time, didn'tya?" Mid asked, lighthearted as she could muster, "Nearly left wi'out…you…"

And for a moment Mid thought she was seeing things, she really did, because there was a significantly larger crowd of people on the deck just arrived from the mainland than Mid had been expecting. Jote, Gav, the Prince, Joshua, Torgal, a tall man with dark hair, a wide-eyed lass, and helping Jill off of the tender boat and onto the main deck of the Enterprise was Clive Rosfield.

Mid jumped at the man, threw her arms around his neck, and laughed.

Clive laughed right back and spun her around like he did when he was in a good mood.

When Clive set her back on her feet, lively blue eyes all humor and happiness, he asked, "Well, did you behave yourself, Mid?"

"Not even a little bit!" Mid said proudly, hands on her hips. "And I've somethin' to show you back at the Hideaway when we get there!"

Clive grinned wide. "I look forward to seeing it."

Mid wondered if it was more or less impressive that the model airship still functioned with a screwdriver in its hull, but she could decide that later – she had a vessel to captain, a home to return to, and good news to bear.

Her boots thudded against the solid wood planks as she dashed to tell the helmsman to set their bearing for home, though she took a moment to lean against a wall when the sensation finally overwhelmed her.

So that's what it felt like for hope to pay off.