Dart stood on the balcony of Indels Castle in the cool spring evening, hearing the bustle of the city below him. Though his eyes were focused on the lights below, his mind was anywhere but here, instead focused on the distant past far southeast of Bale.

Growing up with Shana had been the highlight of his childhood. Every day that he could manage, he'd run off to play with her, going on adventure after adventure in the fields and woods surrounding Seles. They'd run into all sorts of trouble together, and on multiple occasions, one or both of them had hurt themselves. He remembered once when Shana had fallen and cut her leg on a bramble, leaving a long gash that had spouted blood for quite a while. She still had a scar.

A year or so later, they'd both fallen out of a tree, and Dart had broken his arm and Shana her ankle. It had been a rough trek back to town.

He could have named a dozen or more times when Shana had injured herself while being around him. It had always seemed as if they needed to up the stakes on their adventures with each successive outing, and too often it had led them to bruises, cuts, and broken bones. But never, in all the thirteen years that they'd spent together, had Dart ever physically hurt her.

He would never be able to say that again.

It had been ten days since they'd rushed frantically back to Indels Castle from the woods, and he still hadn't seen her since she'd woken up, although he was mostly sure that she would have been strong enough to heal herself completely by now. Or at least, she'd have healed the worst of the damage. But he'd been expertly avoiding her, mostly by hiding in his room and never coming out. But he knew that the inevitable must occur, and so he'd left his room and ventured to the balcony, knowing full well that someone would tell Shana and that she would come to speak with him.

So now, he waited expectantly, forcing himself to remember each and every time she'd been hurt under his watch.

At long last, the distant sound of footsteps greeted his ears as they approached the doorway behind him, and his fingers tightened around the railing. The steps paused at the door, however, and his heart jumped in a most unpleasant way. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe, hoping that would somehow prepare him for this conversation.

He wasn't sure what she would say. Most of him believed that she'd offer forgiveness, as she seemed to be so adept at doing. But there was also a part of him that couldn't believe that she could ever forgive him. As far as he was concerned, she shouldn't. He'd done the unforgiveable. Without Rose's dark magic, there was a good chance that he would have killed her. He looked down at his left arm, tightly bound, but hidden under his loose sleeve. Although Rose had probably told Shana about it, he didn't want her to know if he could help it. It served as a very prominent reminder to keep himself in check.

"Hi," came her soft voice.

He bowed his head and clenched his jaw.

"Can I join you?"

He nodded stiffly. Her footsteps came closer until they settled next to him, and a quick glance to his left showed her in a stunning dress, designed for comfort and yet somehow presenting her as the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her hair was down and flowing chaotically across her shoulders and back, just as the light breeze whipped it about, exposing her bare shoulders for a second at a time.

Dart caught his breath and immediately looked away from her. There was no sign of her injuries; dragoon magic really was remarkable.

For a time, they stood in silence. More than once, Shana glanced at him, but he stalwartly refused to turn his head. He was nervous though; he fidgeted with his hands, waiting for the inevitable.

After an unbearable amount of time, she finally spoke.

"I don't blame you," she said.

He chuckled. As he expected. "You should."

"But I understand. You weren't your best self."

"What I did was unforgiveable," he said in a disgusted voice.

"Maybe to some people."

He shook his head. "Don't… don't do that. Don't try to pass this off as not a big deal."

There was a pause, and then Shana sighed lightly. "It was a big deal. I understand the danger I was in. And it's something that we're going to have to talk about, but before we did, I wanted you to know that I forgive you."

She moved her hand toward him until it rested on his wounded forearm, and he instinctively jerked away. Any amount of pressure would set off the pain, and he reacted before thinking. His right hand flew to his arm in some sort of a defense as Shana's expression grew to indignation mingled with worry.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"It's nothing," he muttered, pulling his sleeve over his wrist.

Reaching forward again, Shana grabbed Dart's hand with a surprising amount of force and slowly pulled his sleeve up to his elbow. The bandage was exposed, running almost the length of his forearm, fresh enough that no fluids were leaking through yet. For that, he was grateful.

"How did this happen?" she pried.

"It… it doesn't matter."

"Dart, why do you always do that? Just talk to me."

She lifted her hand up to his face and turned it toward her. For the first time in almost a fortnight, he looked into her eyes. Within them swam a sea of love and care, like nothing he'd ever seen before. As he stood there, head bowed slightly to meet her gaze, her hand along his jaw, he wanted nothing more than to press his lips against hers. But the immense amount of guilt that sat on his soul rendered him motionless. He could never be worthy of such a woman as Shana.

After a moment, when it became clear to her that he wasn't going to speak, Shana's face turned sour and stony, the hurt visible in her eyes, and she took a step back.

"I'm not pretending that this wasn't a problem," she said, as if the last minute hadn't happened. "I almost died. I'm very aware of that. I used to be able to count on you for everything. I used to feel the safest when I was with you. But now…" Dart turned toward the city once more. He couldn't bear to hear it. Her words cut him more deeply than Rose ever had. "Now, that's something that will have to be rebuilt. But I'm willing to try if you are."

Leaning on the rail, Dart put his face in his hands. He'd broken something so pure and precious to him, and even though Shana seemed to think that they could go back to the way things were, he wasn't so sure. Every time he thought that it might be possible, he saw her in that bed again. He would do all he could to make recompense – protect her, carry her, love her – but all from a distance.

"Don't you see?" he said, turning. "We can't go back. I don't deserve you Shana, and I never will. Everything bad that's happened to you has been because of me. I can't keep you safe. I can't even keep you happy. You would have been better off if I'd never even come to Seles."

"Don't say that," she whispered, pools building in her eyes. "You bring so much joy into my life."

"I'm not worth it, Shana."

"So you just want me to give up? On…" She blinked, and a tear fell down her cheek. "On everything?"

"What could I possibly give you? I'm broken."

Her head shook slightly. "We all are."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment before she turned and quickly walked away, wiping her face as she went. He turned glumly back to the city, feeling his despair settle over him like a heavy blanket. Tears pressed on his eyelids, and before he could contain them, he fell to his knees, sobs overtaking him as he mourned the death of a relationship.


The next three days through the barrens were peaceful but wholly unbearable. The summer Tiberoan heat oppressed them relentlessly, and for the first time in a very long time, Dart felt every bit of it. Every day, the cloudless sky did nothing to hide them from the sun's piercing rays, and sweat drenched them all from head to toe. Even the horses watered the ground with their perspiration. And what was worse – they were running low on water. Thanks to the bandit raid, they were unnervingly nearing the end of their supply, and they were still too far from Donau. They began to be even more sparing with it, but quickly the group realized that they were nearing dangerous levels of dehydration.

Since he'd gotten his dragoon spirit, Dart couldn't remember a time when he'd been hot enough to work up a sweat. Not in Mount Villude surrounded by lava, or even wrapped in a wreath of his own fire did he ever feel uncomfortably warm. Now, however, he was not a dragoon, but a mere human facing the elements. Each day wore on him so much more than he remembered, and every night, it was all he could do to keep from falling asleep as soon as he sat on the ground. His body was sore from riding horses all day, and his energy was sapped from enduring the sun and heat. And on top of all that, he'd developed a terrible burn across his face, neck, and arms that had turned his skin so red that blisters had started forming. Even the lightest touch of cloth seared him as if it were a hot iron.

And yet, the mornings found him feeling better and more restored. Had it not been for his sunburns mysteriously feeling soothed and calmed every morning, Dart would have attributed this to good rest and the cooler evenings. But he knew that it was Shana's handiwork. For that, he was intensely grateful, though he never communicated this to her. She believed that she was being surreptitious, and he would let her continue to believe that.

By the middle of the third day after the bandit attack, the landscape started to shift. At long last, the rocks and sand began to give way to greenery. At first, it was just a few cacti spotted here and there, and then several bushes. Only a few hours past noon, tall rock walls and canyons were nowhere in sight, and were instead replaced by fields of reddish-brown sand, with only a few towers of rock to be seen. Wind whipped in from the north, not only cooling them, but bringing with it a small amount of humidity from the northern bay, giving a slight reprieve to their dry and cracked lips. Bushes were soon accompanied by a rare tuft of grass, and they even saw an occasional low tree. By nightfall, they were able to set up a camp in soil instead of sand, resting under the protection of a large tree forming an umbrella over them.

They finished the last of their water that night, no longer able to spare any more. Though everyone was desperately thirsty, there was nothing else to quench them. The horses quickly lapped up the rest of their supply, and when all waterskins were dry, the group resigned themselves to the desperate hope that they would find a source of lifegiving water the next day.

Dart woke with a splitting headache the morning of what they expected to be the last day of their long journey. The rest of the group, oblivious to the pounding in his head, seemed in mostly good spirits. For the first time since leaving Fletz, there were spotted clouds in the sky, occasionally giving them a reprieve from the sun's harsh rays. After a quick bite to eat, they saddled up and continued their journey north, keeping a desperate eye out for any sign of water.

A few hours into the day, Dart began to have some trouble focusing on their path, as if his eyes were trying to see something that was not there. Occasionally, his eyes glossed over until he could see nothing, and he found himself nodding off in the saddle more than once. The third time it happened, he began to worry; he'd never felt this exhausted before. His throat and mouth were both dry, and even after swallowing multiple times, he couldn't find any moisture. He thought about speaking up, but he knew that he was the only one struggling and that it would do no good to complain. More than anything, he wished he had his dragoon spirit. With that, he would be doing just as well as the others, if not better.

Glancing down at his hands, he saw the dry, cracked skin beginning to peel away. Again, his vision blurred and faded to black, and the next moment he felt his weight shift dangerously to the side. He jerked back up into the saddle and licked his lips, trying to remember what water tasted like, as if that would keep him going. Nothing had ever sounded better to him than a long, cold drink from a mountain stream.

He held out as long as he could, but his condition was getting worse. Struggling to focus, he became vaguely aware that he was lagging behind just as his muscles refused to continue to hold him up, and his whole body went limp against his will. For a moment, he felt the terror of falling, but before he even hit the ground, he was already unconscious.

The next thing he knew, there was a bright light in his face as a soothing feeling spread from his head to his toes. Worried voices sounded around him, and he was barely able to focus on them, although he felt a little better every second.

"… need to find water," someone was saying. Dart couldn't decide who.

"Obviously. But there is no water!"

"There must be a river nearby."

Dart's eyes finally adjusted to the light, and they slowly focused on a face above him. Shana knelt by him, right hand on his forehead, eyes closed intently to focus on her magic. Behind her, the sun shone, illuminating every strand of her hair, and the light breeze whipped it to and fro. He just now noticed how sand seemed to be sticking to her hair in places, stalwartly refusing her many attempts to exile it. Small patches of dirt dotted her skin all over, but underneath, Dart could see that she was beginning to tan, adapting to the harsh sunlight.

"He's waking up!" came Haschel's voice.

Shana's eyes snapped open in surprise, and she smiled in relief before taking back her soothing hand.

Headache still pulsing but reduced, Dart slowly sat up and glanced around. Everyone was gathered around him, the horses standing nearby under the shade of a small tree.

"I'm okay," he muttered.

"No, you are severely dehydrated," said Albert emphatically. "We must find water."

"I'll go find some," offered Rose.

"We might as well all go," said Haschel, shrugging. "Dart's conscious, at least. We can have him ride with one of us to make sure that he doesn't fall off his horse again."

Putting a hand to his head, Dart tried to think past the pounding. With a vague awareness, he felt his left arm also pulsing with pain, although he'd gotten so accustomed to the feeling that he could almost ignore it. His thirst had subsided, but only slightly. Shana's magic could only do so much while she was in human form, and she could not produce water.

"Dart, can you make it?" asked Shana carefully.

Shakily, Dart stood, feeling his muscles resist every effort. But he managed it, and a second later stood freely, although he also felt as if he could collapse at any second.

"I think so," he said stubbornly.

"Ride with me," butted in Haschel. "I don't want you falling on your head, even if it gave us a laugh."

Nodding, Dart followed Haschel to his horse, painfully aware of all the others' eyes on his back as he did so. Carefully, he hoisted himself up, surprised to find the strength to do so, only to feel doubly exhausted from the effort. A moment later, Haschel swung up behind him, the rest mounted their horses, and they were on their way.

Despite some part of him protesting the help, Dart was grateful for Haschel's support. He felt somewhat reinvigorated from Shana's magic, but he could tell that it would not last long. Not if they didn't find any water. He tried to pay attention, to keep an eye out for any glint of a stream, but he could not focus long enough to be of much help. Eventually, as the sun began to sink downward, his hopes began to fall once more. They hadn't come as far as they'd thought.

He began to nod again, head bobbing forward until he hurriedly picked it back up, and Haschel's arm reached around him to steady him. The landscape had shifted once more, and grass now covered the landscape. Sparse trees began to show up, their leaves lushly green, hinting at periodic rains.

"We should reach Donau by midday tomorrow," announced Albert, snapping Dart to alertness. "We cannot reach the city by nightfall. We will have to set up camp soon so that Dart can rest."

"We can't," resisted Haschel. "We have to find water."

"He's right," said Shana quietly from somewhere to Dart's left.

"We cannot keep going, and yet we cannot stop," announced the king. His eyes turned to Dart. "What should we do?"

"Go ahead and set up camp," said Rose. "I'll go ahead to find water. I travel better in the dark anyway."

Without waiting for a consensus, she urged her horse forward and took off at a trot.

"Guess that settles it," muttered Haschel, directing them to one of the more sporadic trees and dismounting carefully.

With some help from Haschel and Albert, Dart eventually found himself on the ground, head lying on a bed of grass. He felt after some blades with his right hand and was surprised to find how soft this grass was; he'd expected it to be sharp and cruel. The others were talking and making camp, but Dart paid no attention. Instead, he was focused on the stars above him, just beginning to pop into appearance as the sun retreated beneath the horizon. Small and twinkling, so far away, and yet somehow so close that he felt he could reach out and touch them. They were always steady and strong, always fighting to push their light past the ever-present moon beating them back with its own shine. Now they seemed to pulse with life, dancing to Dart's sluggish heartbeat.

As he watched them, the sounds around him dissipated, and almost all sensation left his body. For several moments, he felt that he was floating through the sky, inching close to the stars every second. He fixed his eyes on one star in particular – one with a reddish hue – that seemed to flash every second or so like a candle flame. He tried to reach out and grasp it, but something held his arm back; he couldn't see what it was.

"Dart?"

A voice rang in his mind.

"I'm going to catch the star," he said clumsily in response, almost in irritation. He could very nearly feel the fire in his hand.

"Dart!"

A jolt brought him back to the ground, where gravity pulled him against the earth once more. The stars were just distant twinkles again, the sky ever darkening to brighten their lights.

"He's delirious," said Haschel nearby.

"Shana, can you do anything?" asked Albert from somewhere below Dart's feet, a worried tone hidden in his voice.

"I don't think so," came Shana's small reply. Her voice wavered, and Dart's heart struck a particularly loud beat. "It's not a wound, or a sickness really. He needs water, and I can't give him that." Why was her voice so far away? He wanted it to come closer.

"Shana," he mumbled. He tried to turn toward her, but all he could see were blades of grass, black specks performing a ballet before them. Was she really there? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Shana!" he called with more vigor.

"I'm here," she said hastily as she appeared in his field of vision. She seemed to glow in the darkness, her face scrunched in worry. The grass lay down beneath her as she sat next to him, and he smiled.

Dart felt as if he were dreaming. He used to have nightmares when he was young, terrifying dreams of an inability to move, no matter how much he struggled. But in none of those dreams had anyone ever come to rescue him. And now, an angel knelt next to him, alight with healing power.

"Are you going to save me?" he asked the angel. She smiled, but she didn't seem happy.

"Yes, Dart," she whispered. "I'll always be there when you need me."

"I've never met an angel before."

A look of confusion crossed her face. "What?" she asked, somewhat amused.

"I don't want to be rude." He wasn't even sure what he meant.

Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes. With her there, he felt that he could relax properly. Maybe it was time for a nap. She would keep him safe.

"Wait," she said, suddenly alert.

But his eyelids were held shut; he couldn't open them.

"No, wake up!"

He tried to speak, to justify his need for sleep, but his lips refused to form proper words. Instead, out came a jumble of syllables. If he hadn't been so tired, he might have cared that his ability to speak had left him. Instead, he was simply quite firm in his belief that sleep would cure all his woes, and a moment later, he was unconscious.


For what seemed like hours, Dart dreamed of water. First, he was near a stream, and he could hear a small waterfall in the distance, but he couldn't seem to find his way through the forest underbrush. Then, he stood on a bridge crossing a ravine, a roaring river raging beneath him, but there was no way down to it. And again, he came to a bubbling creek, but some force kept him rooted in place.

At last, he felt reprieve from this helplessness as he approached consciousness.

He first became aware of his parched mouth, drier than the barrens themselves. He swallowed in a vain attempt to summon saliva and immediately regretted it as the dry skin of his throat closed on itself. Forcing his eyes open, he looked around desperately for some water, but was taken aback by his surroundings. He was not in the grasslands anymore, but in a room.

He was lying in a bed decorated with red- and yellow-striped sheets, which starkly contrasted the calming blue walls. To his left across the room was a set of bunk beds, a small wooden ladder leading to the top. The middle of the room had a small dresser which held a large potted plant, its dark green leaves and bright red blossoms illuminated by the bright and powerful sun streaming through a large open window just behind it. And across from the window, a wooden door stood shut.

But to Dart, the most important thing in the room was a large pitcher of water on the dresser and the glass that sat near it. Despite the aching protest of his sore and thirsty muscles, he pushed himself out of the bed as quickly as he could, poured the water into the glass, and drank deeply, emptying the glass in mere seconds. He poured another and downed it almost as quickly. But right before he drank a third, he was reminded of a time when he was only sixteen when guzzling almost a gallon in a few minutes had led to his stomach being quite empty not long after. Reluctantly, he refrained from swallowing it too quickly and instead took it in small swigs.

Now that his mind was freed from such powerful thirst, he realized the peculiarity of his situation and peered out the window behind the dresser. This room was on the second floor – of an inn, he guessed – looking out over a street in a city that he did not recognize. The architecture was most definitely Tiberoan, but this was not Fletz. And unless the group had gone far out of the way, it only made sense that they were in the northern city of Donau.

The street below was cobblestone, but along the edge and covering the entire flat roof of the next building was greenery, both shrubs and flowers. At first glance, it had appeared haphazard, as if weeds had begun to take over the city. But upon closer inspection, Dart was able to see that all the plants were placed there purposefully and masterfully manicured. Something about it was deeply comforting to Dart as the scent of flowers wafted in to greet him.

Then it struck him: he had no idea where his companions were. Glancing about the room, he was relieved to notice packs near the bunk beds, leather armor tucked into a corner, and a lance leaning against the wall. He felt silly for thinking that they would dump him in a room and leave him there, even if it was only a fleeting thought, but it had been a fear of his ever since his dragoon spirit had been lost. He felt quite useless to them this way. And here he was, in Donau, the next stop on the hunt for Lloyd. Their meeting loomed over him like a taunt. He flexed his hand, wistfully imagining a tongue of flame in it, and sighed.

But there was nothing that he could do about that now.

Shaking off the negative feelings, he decided to explore the inn, even if he had no idea if the others were here. After a few more gulps of water, he marched his way toward the door and swung it wide.

After several minutes of exploring, he had a decent understanding of the simple layout of the inn. The rooms were situated on two floors, forming a U shape around a central lobby, which spanned the height of the building. Each room on the west side of the building, including his, had an open view of the lobby, each door opening onto a balcony overlooking the bright entrance. And everywhere inside, wherever there was any strand of sunlight, Dart found some variety of plant. Very few of them did he recognize, even with his extensive roamings in the wilderness to aid his identification. Nevertheless, it gave him a feeling of ease with nature so close at hand; Donau was a far cry from the stifling, bustling cities he'd come to know.

Of course, he decided this completely within the confines of this singular building. The thought occurred to him to leave and wander about and see how far the feeling extended, but then he considered his friends' reaction should they return when he wasn't there. So instead, he made his way to the lobby to wait.

There were several luxurious couches there, covered in a reddish-brown fabric that cleverly accented the rest of the room. As he sat, Dart sank into the couch that faced the door so that he could look out the oversized windows on either side of the entrance. At a counter to his left stood a man who didn't seem interested in talking, but kept his head down and avoided all eye contact. Dart respected that; he wasn't much in the mood to talk, either.

So he waited in silence for some time. He spent this time watching the shadows, trying to figure out what time of day it was. As best he could judge, it was early afternoon, but there was no way to tell how long he'd been unconscious. He recalled his delirium in the desert and immediately felt ashamed; suddenly he almost hoped his companions wouldn't return so soon.

But they took long enough for his distracted mind to wander. He had no idea how long it had been since he'd passed out in the grasslands south of Donau. He hoped that it had only been a day or so. Loud gurgles from his stomach announced that it had been uncomfortably long, but it gave no precise announcement. For a moment, he considered asking the clerk if they had any provisions for the inn's patrons, but thought better of it; still quite exhausted, conversation was aversive to him.

His mind and body felt as though he'd been traveling for months, though it had only been a couple weeks. Still, the thought of traversing the barrens again to go back to Fletz – or anywhere else in Tiberoa – was daunting to him. Nothing good had come of the barrens as of yet, and he was less than eager to experience more. For one, he'd been rendered helpless by the accursed Gehrich Gang, and that had led to his near death at the hands of the Tiberoan sun.

At least Shana had been there. Without her healing magic, he most assuredly would have died. He recalled her kind face and soothing touch, painful as it was to remember. Every time he looked at her, he saw what he'd given up. His mind drifted back to that night on the balcony when he'd pushed her away for good, and he cursed himself and his own stupidity. He'd been wracked with guilt and had let it consume him and push him to say such terrible things. But since then, he'd come to realize that she was right; they were all broken, just in different ways. The death of Lavitz had broken them all.

Deep regret swelled once more, mingled with grief as he considered how much he missed Lavitz's counsel. He'd stopped hearing his voice in the back of his mind. He was starting to forget little things about Lavitz, and it crushed his spirit to realize it.

The clerk dropped a pen on the counter, and Dart jumped slightly.

Swearing under his breath, he adjusted, leaning forward to rest on his knees, eyes intent on the greenery outside. Shana would surely love this town. Perhaps one day… maybe he could show her how much he cared. Maybe she would forgive him yet again and accept his love. But he'd broken her so many times that it would take a miracle.

A flicker of movement caught his attention once more, and he refocused to see his companions approaching the inn. They all wore sour expressions, as if they'd been severely disappointed and frustrated. Although, Dart had to admit, Rose's face was relatively unchanged.

As they opened the door, Dart put on a grin and said, "So you didn't forget about me, after all?"

To his inner delight, Haschel's, Albert's, and Shana's expressions all softened simultaneously, wide grins replacing frowns, as they saw that he was up and about.

"I knew a little sun wasn't going to keep you down!" laughed Haschel. Dart stood as the group approached and Haschel pulled him into a hug.

Patting him on the shoulder, Albert said, "It is truly good to see you awake and moving."

"We were worried about you," affirmed Shana.

They then spent the next several minutes questioning Dart about how he was feeling, and then Haschel dove into an animated and overdramatic explanation of the last day or two's events. After Dart had passed out the second time, Shana had tried to stabilize him, although it hadn't done much in the way of reviving him. Instead, she'd healed the burns on his skin, and they'd been forced to wait until Rose returned.

It was several hours before she had, but to everyone's delight, she'd found a stream. They'd forced him to swallow the water, bit by bit, but his rehydration had been a long and slow process. The next day, they'd traveled on horseback with Dart still unconscious, force-feeding him water every now and then. As Albert had predicted, it was only a six hour journey into Donau.

Filthy and worn, the party had not been received well by the residents of Donau, but it seemed that bandits were so common that instead of being shunned like in Fletz, the group had been treated with fear and a sort of reverence. After some kind words and reassurance, they'd been directed to this inn, the best inn in Donau, and put Dart in the best bed so that he could recover.

With a twinkle in his eye, Albert announced that Shana had stayed by his side all night, giving him periodic quaffs, to which Shana responded with a blush and a downward glance.

Turning his eye to her, Dart pondered this response. Perhaps his hopes were not misplaced after all. Heart beating loudly at the possibility, he turned back to Haschel as he finished his tale.

"And this morning, we figured that you would be okay for a few hours while we went out to investigate and ask after our favorite villain," he said.

"Any news?" Dart asked reluctantly. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"None as of yet," said Albert. "But we also have several more places that we could check tomorrow."

Although he did his best to hide it, Dart's heart fell at this news. Here they were, nearly at the end of their short line of leads, with nothing in their hands but empty air to grasp. To make matters worse, without a royal guard to protect the city, Donau had become infested with the bandit vermin; even if someone like Lloyd had been spotted, the bandits were too numerous to be able to do anything about it.

"All I can figure," concluded Haschel, "is that at some point we have to deal with the bandits ourselves."

"How would we do that?" asked Albert.

Haschel shrugged. "Find their 'nest,' so to speak. Take out the leader, and the rest will scatter. We should go there even if we don't actually plan on routing them. They have Dart's dragoon spirit, and I daresay he wants it back before we fight Lloyd anyway."

"Yeah, I'd like it back," inserted Dart, trying to hide how desperately he felt this, "but we have no idea where they come from."

"So we ask around," said Shana. "We've done it before. Somebody in this town must know."

"What you're proposing," announced Rose, "could easily detract weeks from our timeline. Lloyd could be halfway across the continent by then."

This time Dart shrugged. "I think it's the best thing to do," he said. "I can't take him on without a dragoon spirit."

Watching him closely for a moment, Rose finally said, "Very well."

"Now…" mused Haschel. "I could use some relaxation time. With Dart up and about, we could go and get some actual food for once. Donau is clearly some kind of tourist destination for Tiberoans, and they've been down on business with the bandits. Let's go find ourselves a restaurant." His eyes grew wide. "Do you think they have any crab? I have a massive hankering for some crab."

"Only one way to find out!" grinned Dart. "I'm famished. I haven't eaten in… two days? I could use a good meal."

"One and a half," laughed Haschel. "You're so overdramatic about everything."

"Me?" asked Dart incredulously. "I'm the one who's overdramatic?"

"Maybe you just need some food," grinned Haschel. "Let's go get some dinner."

"That sounds great. But nothing salty. I think a little salt would dry me out like a slug right now."

Haschel wrapped his arms around Dart's shoulders and started guiding him toward the door. "You can join me in eating some crab. I know you grew up land-locked, and you need to try it." He threw his head behind him. "Albert, you have to come, too, because you have all the money."

The king sighed and shook his head. Coming to a silent understanding with the women, he dished them out a small number of coins so that they could find their own dinner and turned to follow Dart and Haschel.

"Are crabs salty?" asked Dart.

"I don't remember," replied Haschel. "It's been too long."


A man stood in the dark shadows at the back of the bar, watching the stage intently. He'd been hoping to stay out of sight as much as possible, but this situation demanded his direct attention. Still, he knew that he was being sought after, and as long as it was possible, he wanted to keep his progress unhindered by the irritating dragoons, who would undoubtedly show up here looking for him. He'd heard that the king of Serdio had left on a journey; Fletz would be their first stop, and then they'd move on to Donau. By his prediction, they'd be here within the next week or two. He sighed and ran a hand through his silvery hair. Time was running low, and it made him uncomfortable.

An old man came to announce the performance of tonight's entertainment, and Lloyd perked up again. Turning his stormy gray eyes to the stage once more, he watched closely as a dancer emerged from behind the fanciful red curtain. She was young, appearing as no more than a teenager to the loud-mouthed patrons, adorned in a brilliantly blue dancer's outfit twinged with bits of silver. Clearly at home in the spotlight, she began rousing the crowd before music started playing and she started her routine. But what had Lloyd's attention was not her dancing, but her hair. Peering at it from the corner, he saw it flash silver in the focused lighting. No doubt most would consider it to be dyed to match her outfit, but he knew better.

It was unnerving to him.

He couldn't decide whether he wanted to question her about her origin. For the entirety of her performance, he ran the possibilities in his mind, weighing the outcomes. In the end, he decided that it was sufficient merely to be aware of her presence in Tiberoa… at least for now. If he needed to, he could deal with her later.

Satisfied for the time being, he stole away through the door while all eyes focused on the dancer and headed down the empty street. Night had fallen, but he knew how the bright moon overhead illuminated his hair, making him a shining oddity as long as he was in town. So he kept to the shadows once more, avoiding the moonbeams as much as possible.

Thanks to the late hour, he made his way quickly and quietly to the edge of Donau, but before he could escape completely, he heard voices nearby. He halted, listening intently.

"Please, sirs." A gentle voice, kind but terrified and wavering. "My errand is not with you. Let me pass, and I won't bother you anymore."

"But we just need your help with something," came a deep, gravelly voice. Sly. Evil. Sickening. "It won't take long." Then came a guttural laugh, and Lloyd closed his eyes in frustration.

For a moment, he stood, warring with himself. The situation was clear to him, and he felt a need to intervene. And yet… if he did, his presence would be known. If the dragoons arrived, they would hear of this incident with the silver-haired man and know that they were on the right track.

"No, please!" cried the voice. He heard scuffling and a muffled scream.

Eyes snapping open with his decision, he turned and sprinted toward the sounds, only a short distance away. He turned into a dark alley cast with shadows and saw two bandits and a young woman. She'd been pushed to the ground, one of the bandits holding her arms with a hand over her mouth as she sobbed, the other fiddling with his trousers.

Upon seeing the silhouette behind the bandits, the girl screamed as loudly as she could, and Lloyd now spied the shimmer of tears on her cheeks, her eyes imploring him with every ounce of her being.

The bandit closer to Lloyd turned, his pants partially unbuttoned, and met Lloyd's eyes with a fierce gaze.

"Get outta here," he snapped, waving his hand. "You have no business with us."

"By all means, continue," said Lloyd with a snide grin. The bandit peered at him and glanced to the ground, where Lloyd could see a scabbard. Finding the odds heavily in his favor, Lloyd drew his sword and poked it into the ground, placing both hands on the hilt in a relaxed posture. "… If you want to die," he added with an air of malice.

"You little punk!" said the bandit. "You think you can take me? I'm twice your size!"

The bandit was, in fact, correct. He stood about five inches taller than Lloyd and was twice his girth. Perhaps some of it was muscle, but it wouldn't have mattered even if all of it was.

"Why don't we go a round and find out?" sneered Lloyd.

The bandit knelt and grabbed his feeble sword, charging toward Lloyd with all his might. While it was probably quite a deft action, to Lloyd this man was merely a sluggish brute. He sidestepped, pierced the bandit in the heart, and withdrew his sword in one fluid movement.

As his companion fell to the ground dead, the other bandit quickly released the girl and stood up, hands held up in surrender. The girl hurried to scoot away from him, hugging the wall in terror.

"Look, man, I don't want any trouble," he said.

"Then go," growled Lloyd.

Hesitantly, the second bandit moved forward before sprinting toward the exit – toward Lloyd. But Lloyd used his speed against him. Holding out his sword at the last second, Lloyd sliced the bandit's neck as he ran, and he fell bleeding to the earth.

Lloyd's attention turned to the girl, who was still crying on the ground. Now that the bandits were taken care of, Lloyd took the time to pay attention to her.

Her face held a childlike innocence that Lloyd had not seen in many years, and her blonde hair was braided and yet still long enough to reach her hip. Her blue dress was clearly well-made, and Lloyd wondered at the quality; it did not seem to match the people of Donau. Indeed, as the woman slowly stood, eyeing him warily, Lloyd saw that the way she held herself was not the same as civilians. She was a noble.

That's fortunate, he thought dismally. News of this would permeate all of Tiberoa soon.

"You saved me," she said as if she were just now realizing what had happened.

"It was nothing," replied Lloyd, sheathing his sword and stiffening. He'd done his deed; it was time for him to leave. He turned and took several steps before she called out.

"Wait!" she cried. Sighing, he paused. "Can I at least have your name?"

Her voice was so kind, reminding him of an earlier time in his life. Turning his head slightly, he answered before thinking.

"Lloyd," he said quietly. Then before anything else could escape him, he turned and marched into the darkness, leaving the girl behind him and not bothering to look back.

Cursing himself, he finally made it to the northern edge of town and propelled himself through the grass. He'd been so careful to stay out of sight and be inconspicuous, and then he'd thrown it all away in an instant. Not only had he intervened, but he'd left his name. He might as well have planted a beacon for the dragoons to come find.