The chilling cascade of nature's force smothered the area in its frozen grip, gentle flakes of ice implanting unnoticeable marks across the rocky environment, as swaying winds sweeped a glacial blanket into the mard horizon. Torn and crooked sails flapped in the biting force, while calm seas lapped against the ship's devastated hull. A trio of bodies lay silently on the crisp ground, the loving ruffle of the environment and mild crackle of feet on ice doing nothing to disturb their rest from the once volatile storm that had flung them there.

Until, the soothing warmth of a healing arte and its viridescent gleam rung the ravenette's mind from unconsciousness. A young boy, adorned in the noble white he had long gotten used to - head splayed with golden locks and lifeless green eyes - crouched over her fallen form. She couldn't help but feel that familiar image slide over her vision; disrupting the reality she had seen. "Laphi...cet?" the daemon murmured dimly, pupils sunken with haze while her eyelids weighed heavily. The innocent visage faded away soon enough, as she quickly analysed the figure before her. "A malak?!"

The malak jumped up in surprise, and attempted to dash off with an ornamental object in his hands; a golden compass. However, as his small feet tapped against the ground rapidly, a sudden interjection disrupted his escape. A great feral werewolf stomped towards him, fangs bared in aggressive craving, and crimson eyes that tracked him wildly. As it approached, it crushed a unusual mass of wood that had been circled on the snowy rock. It paid no attention, and continued its prowl over the young malakhim.

Despite being a stranger, a form of untamed hair that contrasted the bleached blanket whipped in front of him protectively, arms laid out for combat. "Stay back!" Velvet ordered, as another scent of gloom appeared overhead; the shriek of a bird signalling its attack. A diving mist of darkness sang towards her, the eagle-like daemon cawing in earnest, until she span with a twisting kick that sent it flailing into a mass of white. The bird struggled and cried out, its wing having been severed by her unseen blade. Sighting her turned back for a moment, the other beast snarled and pounced right over to its prey, overcome by untempered hunger.

"DEVOUR!" the monster roared in volatile wrath.

Slash!

The pulsating appendage reeled around as it burst from its reins, as Velvet yelled out with a cleave, tearing her claw right through its heaving chest and rendering it into a gory mess. A part of her enjoyed the gouging of flesh and wrenching apart of its ribcage, but she shovelled the morbid curiosity down, and pounced towards the downed daemon. Her ravenous limb sprung towards the meal, grasping its lifeless carcass as its serrations tore it apart hungrily. The veins pumped brightly as the arm devoured its flesh, while Velvet stared onwards, uncaring of the eruption of ivory as the miasma succumbed to the ingestion; the body falling apart at the seams as the daemonblight vanished.

"My word, a daemon-muncher! You really ARE a box of horrors, aren't you," a mock voice exclaimed from behind. Velvet didn't bother looking to catch a glimpse of the grinning witch to spare her sanity.

A set of footsteps approached with a steady crunch in the surrounding snow. "Sorry, if I had a weapon I would have helped, I promise." The samurai stood behind the leftover human corpse on the ground, a sincere tone in his voice despite the obvious blade stored across his back.

Velvet turned to stare with a disbelieving look in her eyes. "You're wearing one."

"Oh, nah. I can't use this." The daemoness raised an irritated brow. "Sorry, long story--"

"And the child?" She asked exasperatedly, cutting off Rokurou's petty reasoning. While she did, the daemon stalked over to the writhing bird that had quietened to hostile whimpers.

Crunch!

And stomped right onto it with her boot, not even bothering to consume its weak flesh.

Magilou stretched her arms behind her neck casually with a whistle, "The little brat? Scampered off somewhere."

"You ought to be scampering off yourselves, especially since one of you already seemed to have made that choice," she coldly asserted, before glancing quizzically at a the distinct blade forced into the snow, quickly recognising the unique throwing knife. The other two soon came to the realisation that the mysterious man from before, had disappeared into the freezing curtain ahead of them.

The samurai simply shrugged, "Oh well, that's a shame. I was looking forward to our rematch," he complained in slight disappointment. "But for me? My debt is still not repaid. Until it is, I will not leave your side," Rokurou stated confidently.

While the witch coiled her hair absentmindedly, replying as if her choice is unimportant. "I can hardly scamper off until I know from whence I'm scampering. We're lost, stranded, shipwreck survivors, no?" She twirled dramatically as she rose her speech, before slumping over in mild boredom. "Although, it may be a little boring without that flashy malak. He's the most interesting one here, if not for Miss Brooding Daemoness over here." Magilou rolled her eyes at the pensive ravenette, ignorant of the annoyed twitch in her left hand.

Velvet sighed heavily again, distraught at still being stuck with two of the three inmates from the island. Nevertheless, at least she didn't have to deal with Sarid's ridiculous pleasantries.

Fwoosh!

Her blade sang out of its sheathe as she whirled around instantly, aiming to immediately behead the sudden ambusher - clad in blending colors - suddenly appeared from nothingness. The blade screeched across a still dripping kunai that was hastily drawn, before the figure jumped away. "Whoa! Hey, we need to stop meeting like this," a dreadfully familiar voice mused from the daemon's instinctual response, his serious look vanishing into thin air.

Velvet's wristblade stayed raised at the white-haired malak as he inched away from its deadly aura, a bundle of items displayed in his left arm. She grumbled with a sharp look, "I could kill you now, and be done with it. Saves me the headache dealing with you later," Velvet darkly threatened. The glare she gave didn't reveal a hint of falsity in her statement.

The half-malak sweat-dropped with closed eyes and a nervous smile, "Well, I didn't think you'd hate me that much. But, you've already destroyed my campfire so I guess we'll be moving anyway." Sarid shrugged at the questioning gaze from the daemon as she looked over to the trodden mess, the blade still not faltering at his neck.

"...Why are you still here? You're a malak, hanging around with daemons," she grimly questioned, ignoring the witch's shouts of objection.

His laxed expression dropped into one of seriousness at the question. "We all have our secrets, don't we?" Seeing the daemon's glare hardened at his vague answer. "Let's just say, I've got important business to deal with in Loegres, and it seems you all are heading there anyway," his face broke into another closed smile, which shook on its foundation as Velvet still didn't relent. "...I also brought some food with me?" The malak attempted to negotiate.

"Oh, my saviour! I've been freezing for too long, and I am starving!" Magilou cried out in seemingly mock excitement, bounding over to the assortment of goods he carried. With a huff, Velvet's blade slipped away as she peered at him suspiciously.

'A malak... scavenging food? Something isn't right...'

"Well, seeing as we may be lost, I expect this might come in handy." Ignoring the shouts of anger at the poor food quality from a certain witch - obviously scavenged from the environment - Velvet turned to check out what the samurai had revealed. In his outstretched hand, hung an old and simple map of the lands they recided in.

"A map? Was that left by the child?" Velvet wondered to herself as her finger laid on her chin.

"Looks to me like we're in Northgand," Rokurou assessed.

The daemon woman frowned at how far they had been set away from their goal, "Northgand? Then if we're to reach the capital in Midgand, we've no choice but to patch up our ship."

"What're your plans once you reach Loegres," the samurai simply asked. Velvet did not respond. "...Something worth breaking out of prison for."

"Wahchoi!" An overly dramatic sneeze erupted from their strange comrade, the witch doubling over in exhausted melancholy. "Guwahhh... can't we stand around and chat somewhere nicer? Somewhere with soup to warm the body, and tales to warm the heart..." she grieved sadly, distraught expression facing the unblemished blanket. Suddenly, she rose with a pep in her step and zoomed over to the baffled half-malak. "You're a malak, right? Can't you just make some fire for little old me?" Magilou bounced repeatedly on the spot with anticipation.

Stuffing their resources into poorly kept bag, Sarid blew off her request with a shake of his head. "I'm not some personal heater. I'll collapse in the snow by the hour," he stated with a mild scowl. The irritating witch responded with a fiendish snort and placed her hands behind her back.

"Oh, boo hoo. I didn't know you were so unreliable--"

"Enough." Velvet stalked over with a clenched jaw, the strange blonde quickly getting on her nerves as well. Suddenly, she swiped the bag that dangled in Sarid's hands, and thrust it open with a judging look.

"Hey, what are you--" the half-malak was interrupted as she hummed unnoticeably with approval, and flung it back into his hands roughly.

The daemon crossed her arms and began to address their supplies. "If you want to stay alive, you - and only you - take care of that bag," she ordered with furrowed brows. "I'm not letting you slow me down with human problems." Velvet sneered as she enunciated the specific word, eyeing him skeptically.

Sarid's expression didn't give away any confirmation, but it tightened slightly at her underhand distrust.

Rokurou, sensing the rising tension once again, cut in to focus their attention elsewhere. "Well, There's a city called Hellawes nearby we can rest in. Can't promise they're much for conversation, but we'll find more food and a shipwright there." The daemoness turned her view to the weaving trenchs ahead, and nodded confidently, before the group began their venture into the Figahl Icecaps.

As they travelled through the land of dancing white and the dots of stray corpses, the witch started her own conversation through the repetitive crunching of snow. "Velvet, you know that kid?" she wondered with a bubbly expression, "I thought I heard you call him by name."

The daemon in question stilled with a cold exterior, a shift of memories resurging from her mind. "No, I don't know any malakhim. Not anymore," she stared deeply at the ring she idly twisted on her finger.

Magilou's face curved upwards mischievously, "Anymore...? Hmm..." Her eyes trailed over to the half-malak striding at their backs, his gaze zipping between outcrops and bare foliage.

"What?" Velvet asked sternly.

"How about your little guard dog over there?" the witch ridiculed as she referred to the malak, relishing in the burst of annoyance that shot over the daemoness.

She huffed and swatted the air with her hand, "Him? Found him in the prison, apparently he's 'special', not that I know why." For the briefest of moments, Velvet could've sworn she saw Magilou bear a contemplative look, until it was washed away by a shrug and passive smirk.

"Well, whoever that other little malak was, there was something different about him, that's for sure."

The samurai promptly stepped up next to them to participate, "You can say that again. Using healing artes on a daemon without being ordered to?"

"And he stole that compass too! For being an exorcist's malak, he's a greedy little imp," Magilou playfully added on.

"Well, we did help ourselves to a certain map of his, so..."

The witch gasped dramatically, apparently taking offense to being lumped in with the other criminals. "I consider myself an island of virtue in this sea of wickedness."

"I guess..." Rokurou mused.

"Hey! It's not funny if you agree with me!"

"You think?"

Velvet turned away from the bickering lot, lost in her own thoughts as she evaluated her new life. "So, this is how escaped prisoner's behave." Her view soon glanced to the trudging malak at their backs, a slight shiver in his movement while he scowered the area. "So, what the hell is he still doing here?" the daemon hissed with distaste, finding his presence irritating through the constant prodding at a particular sense she doesn't want to indulge in right now. However, his human-like reactions kept spurring theories to spread through her head.

Soon after battling the daemonised wildlife and violent remnants of humanity, the group soon came upon a wallowing cliffside paired with the gentle foaming sea, riddled with icy flakes of the icecaps. With a disgusting crack, Rokurou stretched and peered over the chilling depths; a carefree expression his frightening features. "So nice to be free again, able to move these bones how I want!"

Magilou soon skidded over, grinning over - more like under - his squared shoulders. "So, Rokurou. What got you chained up in that mold-hole?" she brightly wondered, bouncing near the edge without fear.

"Ties back home. It's complicated," he vaguely blew off her nosey interest.

Nonetheless, his response stretched another mischievous grin over her gremlin-like face as a glint of green shone in her lidded eyes. "Ohoho, then are you really sure to be taking on further debts?" Magilou wickedly advised.

However, the samurai was undeterred by her warning, "It's a teaching of House Rangetsu. 'Pay what you owe'," he recited with unwavering confidence.

"Well! What a civilised family you've got."

"Were you in for long?" Velvet questioned, suddenly appearing at the man's side.

"Three years, maybe. That's why I know so little about the state of the world," he answered with a distraught cross of his arms, but the wolfish grin that soon reappeared said much about his true feelings.

Magilou soon threw herself inbetween the comfortable conversation with no sense of personal space, "Oh gosh, me too! Arte-wielding malakhim!? I've never seen such a thing! How much ELSE have I missed?" she urgently groaned, swiping the air childishly. "Used to be witches who had a monopoly on charms and hexes. Can you even comprehend what this'll do to business?" The gradual crunch of ice on the ground steadily grew louder, as the final member of their villainous entourage approached. Sarid soon appeared in the midst of the chatting group, a confused tick on his forehead as he shivered and sighed. "Oooh, hold my story of harrowing emotion, the new arrival is here to steal the show!" she wildly expressed, a newborn grin of interest twisting upon her mouth. "Do tell your story, our mystery malak."

The man breathed another tired sigh, the scent of decomposing devastation making it through his blocked nose, as the other pair turned with interest; even Velvet's eyes gleamed with a bit more focus. "Don't have much to tell unfortunately. Got thrown in after I mistakingly attacked an exorcist's malakhim, so I guess they didn't take too kindly to that." Sarid shrugged as if it was a minor matter. "Probably thought I was a daemon or something." The matter didn't pass easily like he expected, as the witch leapt over energetically at his tale.

"Attacking a malak... by mistake?! That's no trivial story my good man, please! You must tell us more!" she aggressively shouted, shaking his shoulders sporadically. Much to her despair, he raised his hands openly and shook his head.

"I can't recall much more than that, but I guess it surprised me, since I had no idea what a malak even looked like at the time," he lied through his teeth. "So, I may have been in there for around two years, give or take." Sarid winced slightly at the broken expression flashing over Magilou's features.

Trying his best to ignore the spellcaster's wails of disappointment, the samurai walked over with his signature smirk. "Well, I can't say they didn't deserve it, but that's more of a moral problem for you then me, isn't it?" he stated as his hand grasped his chin in thought. "But, even I want to hear more about your story. Excuse my words, but it isn't the most convincing thing I've heard." His feral pupils scanned the opposing man, both standing at relatively equal heights as they stared eachother down. A single crimson peered into deep blue. Rokurou had to give it to the malak, not a hint of fear was ever present in his cerulean irises, no matter what he did. Soon, the daemon relented. "I guess it doesn't matter, we've all got secrets," he fairly grinned, losing his tense posture.

Sarid's gaze relaxed as he blinked away the moisture in the air. However, as the haze fell away, a mass of black and glaring gold manifested into his vision. Velvet stood there, a disbelieving scowel on her face paired with crossed arms. His sight fell away with a silent curse. As he stifled another revealing sneeze, his thoughts wound around in his jumbled mind. He had been found out by the worst of them.

Eventually, a pointed hat of strange colour crept into view, while Magilou presented herself with an expectant smile.

Rokurou's face fell a bit as the worst arrived, and he predicted the ridiculous response he may recieve. "...Should I even ask while you were imprisoned?"

"Heh! Bagged for unlicensed witchcraft. It was a tale most wicked and foul!" she began with a climactic raise of her forefinger and thrilling glower.

Velvet harshly frowned at the mention of the past, her teeth gritting fiercely.

Mocking tears began to stream down the witch's face as she sprang forth, flailing substantially on the spot and getting dangerously close to the female daemon's naturally large area of personal space. "Care to hear more? You'll cry! I'll laugh! Emotions will touch the rafters!" she wildly paraded around the group, yelling spontaneously.

The daemon's fist tightened, as she held herself back from turning the fanatical fly into bright soup. "...No thank you," the woman reered off and away from the performance, signalling the conversation's end. Before the group continued on, Sarid sneezed one more time. And that was it. Velvet halted in the bombarding snow, letting the other pair stop with a hum. She didn't turn to address them. "Go on ahead."

The daemon and witch both wore their respective grins, until Magilou was quickly wrenched away from the soon to erupt scene, much to her dismay.

Just before the half-malak could do as she asked and stepped around her still form, she tore him from his feet with a violent sieze of his collar. Dangling in the air from her superhuman strength, she glowered at him while her free fist balled in agitation. Her veil of darkness bristled behind her back, the natural winds seeming to grow more hysteric as the tension bubbled over. Gasping for strained breath from the sudden action, he stared worriedly into her abyssal eyes, threatening to drop him into their depths.

"Explain. Now." The ravenette snarled at him threateningly, her bandaged arm trembling in its mental cage as Sarid steadily recovered his composure from the sudden action. Sarid couldn't feel his feet touch the ground, and her expression tightened by the second. In his unbecoming silence, the daemon hissed and slammed him into the nearby wall - stone crumbling down from its perch - the fierce force jarring his mind into a mess once again as he spluttered. "I've had enough with this!" she wildly spat, her analytical pupils searching his own for a single answer. "First, your constant wheezing at my back, then your unwillingness to kill anyone, now your upfront deception?! Tell me, who and what are you?" Silence. Velvet's face darkened. "I hold no qualms in ripping you apart, 'malak'. Do you want to take your chances?" she aggressively stated, raising her bandaged hand grimly.

Sarid's eyes sharpened as a despairing feeling welled from deep within.

Fwoosh!

Then, he disappeared from her grip. Growling in irritation, the daemon's leg wheeled around through pierced winds, aiming to careen right into the sudden presence behind her. It swung freely and right into the sidelined wall with a crack! The man falling right under it, he evading a lethal blow that could've ended it all right there. Wrenching her stuck limb from the devastated stone, she prepared to continue her unrelenting assault, until a desperate raised hand stopped the daemon in her tracks. Sarid released a drawn out breath as he held his free hand disarmingly, the other equipped with his kunai slowly trailing towards the ground. "Fine. I'll tell you," he begrudgingly relented, his cerulean irises still steeled for any hostility.

Velvet's golden eyes were honed the exact same, staring terribly as she watched him place down his weapon; the crafted object only as strange as he was. "You expected this," she accused with a cross of her arms. She stared as he rose from his crouch slowly, as if she were a dangerous predator. Velvet inwardly smirked at such a thought.

"Of course. I knew my lies were too quick and unrefined, that I'd be found out, just didn't think this early," he said with acceptance. "It seems the weather didn't want me getting far either," he ticked with annoyance.

Her eyebrow pulled upwards as she waited for an explanation, finger tapping her toughened bicep incessantly. "If your answer is acceptable, I may let you live," she coldly asserted. Velvet scanned his shivering form; resilient, but still naturally affected by climate. 'Combined with the food he collected earlier, he's no normal malak, that's for sure,' she silently assessed.

With a gathering sigh, Sarid pulled together his words for a feasible explanation that wouldn't get him killed. "I'm not a complete malak, no. I was born a half-malak," he revealed. Brows furrowing, the daemon waited for more as her thoughts led to different conclusions. She had barely known about normal malakhim, now there's half-malakhim? What a headache. "Sarid Barloc. Born from a human father, and a malak mother, I was instantly resonant, compared to the typical population. So, I've dealt with daemons my whole life," he explained.

Velvet couldn't help but show some sort of interest in his story, but one thing bothered her. "I would believe it, if not for the fact that the Opening would now be around ten years ago. I don't think you're ten years old," she easily sensed, placing an impatient arm upon her hip; jaw clenched mildly.

Sarid didn't show it, but he had cursed in his mind. He had been so caught up in his honesty, that he let important information slip - info that wouldn't make sense in this timeline. Holding his composure together, he reached for scraps to pull his story into fact. "Malakhim have existed for much longer than we have, Velvet, my father was most likely extremely resonant. We all have ties to the people of old," he confidently reasoned. Many holes could be poked in his story, but he was banking on the life of who stood before him; someone with not much more information than even he. "Therefore, we were isolated from the rest of the world. I didn't see another malak until the situation at Loegres."

However, the reason of his story's passing wasn't what he expected, as the daemon he stood before didn't have an immediate reaction; finding a sudden interest in her bound appendage. Velvet peered deep into it, past its cloth vestiges, and felt the feral desire shiver under her malformed skin. 'So, that's why...' she mused in her head. 'The filling power of a malak, mixed with the easy consumption of a tasteful human, completely removing that horrible flavour. An appetising meal,' she sarcastically wondered with disgust. The gentle rumbling of her daemonic cells were inclined to agree.

Eventually, she stifled her forefront interrogation as her arm slipped from her thoughts, finding his story believable enough to pass. "And your poor attempt at a reason why you were thrown in that prison? I do remember that praetor mentioning you being a traitor's son." The daemon continued to enquire upon his past however, finding his mere existence as an anomaly.

Unfortunately, the man didn't know any more than her, "Honestly, I have no idea what that was about. Besides, as unbelievable it may be, why would I lie about why I was thrown here? My memory is... blank, from any time before that," he attempted to argue, only pure honesty leaking from his mouth this time. She still looked unconvinced.

"Look me in the eyes, and say you are telling the truth."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Gulping silently, Sarid stepped forward, peered right into the daemon's unwavering soulless orbs, determined to prove his honesty. He spoke - unflinching - to the woman, "I am not lying, and I have no reason to." Velvet stared back, penetrating any hint of dishonesty in his words. But there were none. She sneered, stepping away from his irrational presence and clenched her left arm briefly, obviously agitated at her correction. Until, the half-malak wavered on his feet, and he almost stumbled over sporadically.

"ARTHUR!"

"Why did you kill him!?"

"His blood... on your hands!"

"Answer me... ANSWER ME! WHY!?"

Sarid steadied himself with a wince, the voices ricocheting around his skull violently, rendering his thoughts into a disgruntled heap. Velvet looked down at him quizzically, a disapproving look evident on her expression. "If you can't even stand near me for too long, just give up already," she coldly asserted, unaware of what had transpired. Piecing together his consciousness, the man looked up to the haze of blackness in his vision - contemplating what he had heard - while his senses cleared.

"No it's... Nevermind, don't worry about it," he weakly explained.

Velvet sighed in exasperation with a shake of her head. "Right then, 'half-malak', catch up. We won't wait for you," she ordered dispassionately, turning on her heel and stepping off into the trembling blizzard. Sarid had another moment to order his shaken thoughts, before leaping off into the veil of white; a determined but wanly face under his ruffling mass of spiky pale strands.

The diverse group soon encroached upon their destination in the billowing cold, as a giant wall - as high as the trees that neighboured them - bore down on them. Outfitted in defensive slots in their guard and towers that seemed to touch the deep blue sky, the city was formatted like a powerful castle, ready for any offensive. In addition, a handful of figures adorned in a familiar noble white stood guard outside its sizeable iron gate, scanning the rocky outcrops that surrounded them. Unfortunately, they weren't ready for the batch of misfits kneeling just at the side of the deathly slope into the shrill waters. "Exorcists," Velvet venomously spat as she pinpointed their stations.

Magilou balanced on one foot to peer over the formation, "Well that's just inconsiderate. Word of the prison break couldn't have travelled that easil-- hey!" Until she was pulled down hastily before she could wail around any longer.

Stuffing the vibrant baffoon back around the rock, Sarid peered from around the corner stealthily, catching any movement that came from their obstacles. "There's four of them. I could probably sneak in, but I'm not too confident about you three," he assessed with a sigh as he looked over the party's outfits, his sharpened eyes signalling his concentration in the situation.

Rokurou knelt calmly around the outcrop, "I somehow doubt they'll just let us in, looking the way we do." The samurai inched forward, anticipating a fight for access, until a stern look from the ravenette caused him to shift back in his place.

"Wait, who's that?"

Noticing their half-malak's abrupt confusion, the rest of the group turned to watch as the boy from earlier approached; golden compass in hand. "I-I apologise... about earlier. I didn't mean to steal this," he raised the ornament upward - his height meaning it only reached just above Velvet's head as she crouched - as he presented it to return. Seeing as the group didn't move, out of confusion or baffled awe, the little malak placed it on the ground in the crunchy snow.

"The compass..." Velvet muttered in surprise as the boy stood still for a moment, then robotically manuevered around the rock and returned from where he came from. Revealing a new path through they could take around the danger.

"You OK with this? He could be working with the exorcists," the samurai warned as he watched the gears turn in Velvet's head.

"I'm following him," she simply stated, leaving no room for discussion.

The witch hummed in interest, "Hmm, is he your dessert?" she morbidly joked, as the daemon rose from her spot.

"If necessary," she coldly confirmed with a hardened glare.

As the group snuck around the beady eyes of the patrolling exorcists, they circled around the natural stone formations and caught the bristling scent of the sea.

"Looks like the kid went by the coast," Rokurou said as they all carefully - except a certain witch - stepped around the teetering drop into the icy depths, finding a neat and convienient pathway around their problem. Trudging through the carpet of white, they continued their venture; the daemoness keeping a keen eye on the tiny prints soon to be smothered by falling snow. Soon enough, they felt the path arch into a narrow slope, leading down into a lightless cave - harrowed by darkness and silence - their trail coming to an end as they felt the chilling floor dissipate into pure stone. Eventually, a wooden object laid against the rough cave system entered their vision at the dead end.

"There's a ladder," Velvet said, her unnatural eyes easily surveying the black, while their fellow witch and half-malak slightly stumbled along the unkempt area; the white-haired man trying his best not to walk into the potentially irate daemon woman at their front. Eventually, they all managed to make their way up the hidden ladder with some trouble, which soon cast their gaze over a large room scattered with boxes and other chests of resources. "A storehouse?" Velvet questioned as she looked over the countless items present.

Sarid leapt up next to her from the ladders opening, a dismayed look over his face as he silently mulled over the experience he had went through. "Being part-human is such a pain..." he groaned, much to the ravenette's gradual annoyance, until Magilou slid over with a sly smirk to worsen it even more.

"Was that 'part-human' I hear? Rokurou...!" she sang with delight. "You owe me fifty gald," the woman smiled brightly as her arms lay behind her shoulders. Their final member crept up from the opening with a disbelieving look on his face, obviously taken aback from the lost bet.

The samurai crossed his arms in denial, "I can't believe this...!" he complained behind his downcast face, "Whatever, I'll pay you after," Rokurou stated in irritation. As the witch skipped away into the mass of boxes, Velvet turned with a slight clench of her teeth.

"Of course she knew..."

While the daemoness quietly seethed in the corner pensively, the half-malak rolled his eyes and placed a finger on the boards of the storehouse in contemplation. Suddenly, his mind lit up with hundreds of signatures, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. "We're inside Hellawes now, but stay quiet, we have quite a crowd outside," he explained calmly.

However, while Velvet and Rokurou nodded in understanding, their resident gremlin paraded around the storehouse without a care in the world. Magilou abruptly began to sniff the open air like a dog, "That smell... Flamestone!" she cried in realisation. The black-haired beast furrowed her brows, before batting the moron over the head with a hush, sending her into the corner grumbling as she readjusted her hat. "Witch abuse...!" she quietly moped, hunched over dramatically.

Nonetheless, the other dsemon seemed fairly confused about the term. "Flamestone?" Rokurou wondered aloud.

Hearing his befuddlement, Magilou sprang into action, and jumped over with a mischievous smile; prepared to indulge in flaunting her knowledge. "Also known as--"

"Melchionite. A useful but rare mineral that helps create explosives and fuel." The witch's bubbly expression cracked as she doubled over, having her spotlight taken by the half-malak currently inspecting one of the crates. "It's found only in Northgand, but is highly valued in trade, which it seems Hellawes thrives off of," Sarid explained with amusement gleaming in his orbs, smudging some fallen particles between his finger while he spoke.

Rokurou couldn't hide his grin as he approached the man, "That's pretty interesting, Sarid. I didn't know you had a talent for that kind of information," he purposefully complimented; smirk widening as he saw Magilou flail wildly in dreadful disbelief.

Much to the two's surprise, another voice joined in. "Sounds dangerous... it's good you knew, we could've been in trouble had we not," Velvet dryly added, the kindling of a twitch playing on her lips as she watched Magilou writhe in mental agony.

It didn't take long for the dam to burst, as the witch sprang up from her weakened position with fake tears pooling between her anguished eyes. "What do you mean!? I, the Great Magilou, was about to answer in the most detailed way possible that your feeble minds could never comprehend!" she angrily yelled. "What about the sulfur that makes the explosions? What about the oil to make the fuel!? This is mediocre plagiarism, I tell you!" Sarid, Velvet and Rokurou all watched incredulously, as the noise she was generating most likely blew any cover they had.

Choosing to ignore Magilou's temper tantrum, the other trio faced away and attempted to speak over the frantic noises of the mentally ill. "Looks like that boy got away," the samurai stated as he quickly scanned the surroundings.

The daemoness shrugged, the boy's existence already slipping from her thoughts as she focused on the task at hand. "Well, as Sarid said, we're in the city now."

"Let's scout for the maritime guild, then," Rokurou said, already focusing on the doorway out. "Whoever's in charge of all these storehouses must have their hands in the shipping trade and shipbuilding.

"And we could use a true sailor if we can find one," Velvet reminded with a contemplative look, after their horrible attempts only hours before.

Magilou suddenly sprang back into the conversation, completely forgetting about the instance she had just experienced. "Now that's a plan I can endorse! We dodged the sea's murderous grasp this time, but who's to say our luck will hold?" she fiendishly said with a dark grin, quickly inching away at Velvet's tensed fist.

"And stock up on resources, while we're at it," Sarid lastly interjected, pleasing Rokurou at the mere link to weaponry. "I don't know about you all, but a simple wrong timing can end me instantly, I'm not too confident in running in without other options," he tiredly explained with a grim expression, annoyed at the weakness of his own flesh.

The Yaksha bore his wolfish grin as he beamed at the thought, "Don't worry too much, you did well against me!" he attempted to argue. Until, the mention brought back another thought on his mind. "Oh right! We still need to have our duel," he proudly posed with a strangely friendly look. "I've gotta test your mettle if you can run with us," he stated, leaning towards the dulled half-malak.

"He doesn't have to prove anything. He's useful enough," a dispassionate voice interrupted harshly. Rokurou raised a brow at the woman's uncharacteristic interjection. The half-malak in question simply sent a meaningful nod at the somewhat absent daemon that stood off to the side impatiently.

The other daemon shrugged with a closed smile. "Oh, well I'm still looking forward to our duel!" the samurai cheered, hoisting himself back with a joyful chuckle; truly displaying his nature as a war daemon. "But, we need to look for some weapons if I'm going to be of any use in a fight," he excitedly said.

"You're... still wearing one," Velvet spoke with a tiresome glance.

"Nope. Not an option."

A few moments later, they once again felt the blistering cold lay into their skin; flakes of ice and snow nesting in the diverse colours of their hair. Before them, lay various ships with flapping sails and hefty hulls gently swaying on the calm bubbling ocean - the calls of wildlife circling throughout the hustle of the Hellawes docks. Around the squared concrete adorned in silky white, were dotted crowds conversing about the trade, while few hasty market stalls settled against the aged bricked walls of the city; proposing their products to the busy citizens. Far off into the endless deep blue, was the haze of chilling frost that settled over the lapping surface, the faint icy storm propelling its reaches far and wide across the frozen lands of Northgand.

As the group readily approached the overbearing gate that seperated the docks from the city centre, they caught the eyes of many townspeople, but it soon relaxed into welcoming gazes as their appearance cemented them as foreign travelers in the view of the residents. Conversations were loud, and many obnoxious, easy to capitalise on for information. However, Velvet soon found out one thing from the words spread from ear to ear; 'the exorcists are seen as heroes, Artorias is seen as a hero... Well, I suppose to normal people... they are,' she inwardly wondered to herself, catching the calm and peaceful faces of the citizens while surrounded by the ones that stole her life away.

Protectors of everyone, but saviours of nobody.

Velvet scoffed to herself silently, fists balled in frustration from the cruel games of reality, while the group that followed stayed silent at her heels.

The guards at the gate didn't stop her as she shoved the gate open fiercely, a storm brewing at her call.