They talked for a long time, but not about Shana. Dart and Haschel seemed very focused on the explanation of dragoons, but they didn't know what to make of her. She could tell.

Meru even had the decency not to ask about it. Or maybe she just assumed that whatever had happened was tied to Shana's dragoon abilities.

But it wasn't.

Rose was right. And Shana could feel it.

Something was at war within her, but she couldn't figure out what. As her mind remembered only a couple hours ago, she shut her eyes tightly and pulled her knees to her chest as she lay on the soft grass. She didn't remember anything between the screaming voices in her head and waking up to Dart frantic above her. Something had pushed her out of her own mind and taken her over. What was it?

And then again, after the battle. She felt her consciousness being pushed aside while the virage knelt before her. She'd fought to keep herself in place, but she wasn't strong enough.

And Dart… Was he trying to save her? Die for her? What had he hoped to accomplish?

A deep-seated terror shook her soul as she recalled that blue light and the shattering virage.

All at once, memories of Serdio resurfaced, of so long ago that she'd nearly forgotten. She defeated the serpent the same way, with some foreign power that couldn't really be hers. That, she suspected, was why she'd been taken by Sandora.

She shivered again as she recalled Hellena Prison. Why had they wanted her so badly? Did they expect her to be able to control the power? How had they even known about it?

Her heart became a heavy weight in her chest as a lump formed in her throat. She felt broken and useless. With all her might, she missed Lavitz and his listening ear. As she began to cry, she fought desperately to stifle the sounds.

What am I?


The next morning, the group arose and silently ate a small breakfast before heading out. Haschel swung a backpack on his shoulders and gave the dreary and reserved Shana a grin before tapping her shoulder. She tried to return the smile, but it was less than half-hearted, and Haschel decided not to press. He followed Dart as he led the group north farther up the valley.

For the next hour or so, it felt as if they had all made an agreement not to discuss the previous day. Conversation was strained, if it existed at all, and there was no mention of the virage. Haschel wasn't sure what to think about it, but he didn't want to be the first to break the treaty. He had many questions, though many answers he had already deduced. Shana's reaction to the virage and her odd power to destroy it were not normal, and everyone was aware of that fact. Most acutely, Shana was aware of it. The stress and pressure of her situation was vividly evident on her face, and Haschel wished that he could help her relieve it, but he knew that there was nothing he could do.

He flexed his hand and made a fist, observing as tiny crackles of electricity jumped about his knuckles. The battle with the virage had been his first battle as a dragoon, and he'd loved every second of it, except the part where Albert had almost died. Being able to fully unleash his magic was almost intoxicating, and he had impressed even himself with his enhanced agility. Part of him wanted to test the limits of that agility in a proper duel with one of the other dragoons, but now was not the time.

Quiet though the group was, Meru decided to interrupt it and start talking to Shana. Tuning his ears to the pair trailing just behind him, Haschel listened attentively to make sure that Meru wouldn't bother Shana with questions. To his surprise, nothing of the sort happened.

"I really like this valley," said Meru. "So peaceful."

"It is," replied Shana simply.

"It kind of reminds me of where I grew up. We had this really big hill just outside town that had a spring on the other side. We would run around it and roll down it and splash in the little pond that formed at the bottom."

"That sounds like fun," smiled Shana. "Where are you from?"

"Up north," said Meru. "It was a lot colder there than it is here, so we couldn't go in the water all the time."

"We had a creek where I grew up," added Shana. "Dart and I would play there all day whenever we got the chance. I got in trouble several times for going when it was really cold outside." She chuckled. "There was ice everywhere and I got my feet soaked."

"You and Dart grew up together?" laughed Meru.

Haschel glanced up to see if Dart had heard his name, but he hadn't made any indication of it. Either he was focused on something else, or he was hiding his interest very well.

"We did," said Shana. "I think he came to Seles as a child right after I was born. I've never really known life without him. Until he left, anyway."

Shana continued to explain the basics of Dart's origins and her own relationship with him. To Haschel's surprise, she even included details about Lavitz's death and Dart's decline afterward. Her description of the accident in the forest outside Bale held Meru's attention for quite some time, though several times during this part, Shana's voice was so quiet that Haschel couldn't quite make out what she said. He gathered that she was trying to partly justify Dart's actions while also holding him responsible for them, and he perceived once more Shana's deep care for Dart. Distant as they had been recently, it was clear that she still held him in high regard.

Even with Shana's attempts to make Dart relatable, Meru was vehemently against any attempts to justify him, and Haschel had to keep from laughing at some of her demands. To Haschel's delight, even Shana giggled at some of these responses, and Haschel all at once realized that this joy was Meru's intent when she had started the conversation. Though she pretended to be naïve and ignorant, Haschel could see Meru's maturity hidden below the surface. She had dared to tread where no one else had, despite her newness in their social dynamic, and had used her own humor to bring happiness back to Shana, even if only for a time.

With the silence broken, conversation began to spring up throughout the party, and Haschel found himself discussing trivial things with Albert and Dart. As they talked about minutia of running a kingdom and the differences between Bale and Fletz, Dart held his head a little higher and smiled a little more than he had before they'd entered the valley. It appeared that some confidence had returned at their defeat of the virage. Dart's trepidation toward their mission had lessened as he realized that he wasn't useless to them after all.

So content was the party in their travels that they'd all but forgotten their purpose for coming here. The sun was bright, the air cooler thanks to their higher altitude, and the grass lush beneath their feet. Birds could even be heard from the outcrops far above their heads. Conversation and laughter flowed. But the peace in the valley was brought to an abrupt end as the grass transitioned sharply to a worn cobblestone road. They paused, gazing before them to where the road turned up a hill before curving out of their sight. Just over a ridge, a structure could be seen poking its head over the mountain. All too quickly, they recalled that they were now in bandit territory.

For a moment, Haschel thought that he saw a shimmer of movement to the right. Peering at the crest of the ridge, he waited for something to appear, but nothing came.

"I think we made it," he announced.

"We must be careful," said Albert. "Keep your weapons ready; be prepared for an ambush."

The group nodded, and the sounds of metal rang out softly as swords were drawn.

"Let's go get ourselves a dragoon spirit," muttered Dart before he stepped forward.

They followed the road around the curve, revealing a mighty stone wall blocking their path. Behind it could be seen large buildings built into the mountain faces, but Haschel could make out few details from this distance. He settled his sights on the wall, at least eight feet thick and thirty high, broken only by a massive stone door at the center. As they approached, Shana nocked an arrow in preparation, and Haschel clenched his fists.

"Who goes there?" came a shrill voice from somewhere in front of them.

"We've come to speak with your leader!" called Dart in return.

"What for?"

"He has something of mine. And I'd like it back."

"The Gehrich Gang isn't in the habit of returning things."

"Maybe he'd be willing to make an exception."

"We should just kill them," muttered Haschel. "It would be a lot faster and easier."

"I agree," said Rose.

Shana pulled on her bowstring.

"Gehrich doesn't make exceptions," sneered the bandit. "Get 'em!"

An arrow whistled from their left, and Albert flicked his wrist and cast it aside with a gale. Shana fired in that direction, and a thwump and cry of pain indicated that she had reached her target. Another arrow came from the right, and then the left again, each yielding the same results.

"How many more men are you willing to lose?" called Dart. "Take us to Gehrich, and this can all be over."

An eerie silence came over the valley, and the group watched carefully. There seemed to be no movement anywhere around them, and for a moment, Haschel was worried that they hadn't heard Dart's challenge. Several long moments passed, and then finally a response came.

"He will see you," replied the bandit, and a loud grinding sound came out from the gate as it started to open.

Keeping their minds and weapons ready, the group moved forward. As they passed through the wall, Haschel noted the intricate carvings on the gate of various animals and people who seemed to be far too large to be human.

"I guess it really is a giganto ruin," he said.

"That's kind of sad," said Meru.

"How so?"

"There are no more giganto," she shrugged. "And one of the last of their cities has been taken by bandits. They can't have been respectful to the giganto culture that's preserved here."

"That's probably true," nodded Haschel. "But imagine these short little bandits trying to sleep on a giganto bed."

Meru stifled a giggle.

And as they entered the old city, Meru's fears became apparent. Giganto buildings, each with oversized windows, doors, and steps, were built into the rock on either side of the road. Their architecture struck Haschel as odd, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the sweeping buttresses supporting the wide roofs, or perhaps it was simply how they seemed to tower over the group. Whatever the reason, Haschel frowned at the way the bandits had taken over the city. Banners and flags had taken over the ancient carvings that decorated each edifice, and trash was strewn about the ground.

Seven bandits appeared in front of them, one slightly taller than the rest and boasting oddly angular features. Haschel sized him up as one who had some level of martial arts training, as his exposed arms were far more toned than his lesser companions. It was this bandit who stepped forward to speak.

"We'll take you to Gehrich," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But be careful; we have dozens of archers placed throughout camp ready to end all your bloody lives."

Haschel and his companions were wholly unperturbed by this threat, but they agreed nonetheless, and the group started a trek through the ancient home of gigantos. It almost felt like they were tourists, huddled in a group, muttering occasionally about something interesting about one of the buildings. Eventually, the narrow valley widened into what seemed like a town square of sorts: a large, circular space with a courtyard in the middle, many staircases leading off into other buildings. At the far end, a grand staircase led into a place of obvious reverence, higher than the rest, burrowed into the mountainside. Two massive torches marked the lower end of the railings, burning fiercely despite the warm summer air.

Just as they were about to reach the stairs, the bandit leading them stopped and twirled around.

"You must relinquish your weapons," he growled.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," retorted Dart.

"It is if you wish to speak to Gehrich," replied the bandit with an air of confidence that almost made Haschel laugh.

Albert whispered something to Dart, and Dart's jaw stiffened.

"If that is what is necessary," said Albert, holding out his lance, "then we will comply."

A short bandit came forward and snatched the weapon away before turning expectantly to the others. Shana and Meru handed theirs over with only a little hesitation, but Rose and Dart resisted.

"You, too, old man," snarled a man right in front of Haschel, who laughed in response.

"I don't carry weapons, you idiot," he chuckled, holding his hands out in demonstration.

The bandit growled in response but moved on anyway before coming to stand before Dart. To Haschel's great surprise, Rose actually handed over her rapier first, and it was only after this that Dart finally relinquished control of his sword. No doubt, he was afraid of his ability to fight without one, being already somewhat crippled without his dragoon spirit. His arm wound would only add to his frustration.

The weaponless group proceeded forward, each a little more uneasy. Haschel glanced at Rose, recalling her anxiety and apprehension in the Black Castle, the last time she'd been without a weapon. He was proud of her for being able to go without it, and he wished he could say something, but she was on the other side of their little bubble.

Part of him felt guilty, being the only one not stripped of his weapons. Although, he conceded to himself, Shana, Albert, and Rose all still carried perhaps the strongest weapons available in their dragoon magic. His heart went out to Dart, who must surely be feeling more exposed than ever. However, every time he glanced in Dart's direction, he saw only a great determination in his eyes. Haschel grinned; maybe Dart really was changing.

As they crossed the square, Haschel's ears suddenly tuned in to laughter on his right. Turning quickly, he saw a passageway leading underneath a building, and a bandit carried a small barrel down into it, giggling as he went. Shortly after, the sounds of various metals clanking onto a floor cascaded out, and Haschel pointed it out to Dart.

"Maybe where they keep their treasure," he whispered.

Dart nodded seriously, and his eyes glinted with hope.

They began their climb up the stairs, large beams of wood placed between each giant step to make it easier to ascend. Glancing behind them, Haschel saw perhaps three dozen bandits following them, eyeing them suspiciously. Although he wasn't exactly worried, his shoulders still stiffened as he made sure to stay alert. Powerful as they were, numbers could still overwhelm. Maybe.

After reaching the top of the stairs, they passed through a wide tunnel that opened into a massive room supported by several sizable pillars around the edges. The room had to be as large as the competition tent in Lohan, and it even reminded Haschel of an arena, multiple carvings of gigantos ringing the ceiling far above them. Rings of seats tiered their way around the center of the room, each of them far too large for humans but filled with them just the same. Perhaps two hundred bandits now watched them carefully from the stands, whispers and murmurs running through the crowd.

Haschel couldn't decide if they had interrupted an important family meeting or if the bandits were just that quick to assemble, but the extra stragglers finding their way out of four other tunnels lent themselves to the latter explanation. Either way, they now had a group of spectators judging them, and Haschel was much less confident in their ability to quell so many at once.

But, perhaps, if they were clever enough, they could make it out of here without too much fighting.

He glanced behind him and noticed that their weapons had been tossed to the side near the entrance. Still within reach, he considered.

They continued forward. Near the center of the room stood a massive pillar supporting the high ceiling, and at its base was a throne large enough for a giganto and much too large for the man who now sat in it. He sat lazily, slumped to one side and supporting his head with his hand. He had a slender form, though Haschel could make out his muscle definition even from this distance. His dark brown hair ran down to his shoulders, and a headband wrapped around his brow.

It was with sudden clarity that Haschel realized the reason for his familiarity with the name of this bandit gang. He knew this man. He knew Gehrich.

As the group approached, Gehrich stood, hand on his hip, gazing at them with what he probably thought was an intimidating stare.

"I've been told you want to speak to me," he called out to them. "What do you want?"

"One of your men took something from me," said Dart boldly. "I came to take back what is mine."

"You might want to be a little more specific," laughed Gehrich.

"Do you remember me?" said Haschel suddenly, stepping forward. He felt all eyes on him, but as he met those of Gehrich, he felt an odd tingle in his chest.

"… Master?"

"You do remember," nodded Haschel. "You were once one of my prized pupils. You had so much potential."

"A potential I fulfilled, don't you think?" challenged Gehrich, gesturing to the crowd. "How many of your students have this many under their command?"

"What's going on?" whispered Dart in his ear.

"He's from Rouge," explained Haschel quickly. "A student from several decades ago. I kicked him out."

"And you were right to," sneered the bandit leader. "Without your incentive, I never would have ended up here. I never would have found my family."

"Family?" scoffed Haschel. "This horde of mindless buffoons? That's what you call family?"

"And what do you know of family?" spat Gehrich. "Your family left you. Or more accurately, you pushed them away."

Haschel stopped. Gehrich had left years before Claire. There was no way he could have known about her.

"What are you talking about?" he growled.

"I met her," said Gehrich proudly. "Your precious daughter came to me once she left. The only other of your disciples to have escaped, and she wanted help finding her way around the world."

Escaped. Anger flared within Haschel, and he bared his fists. "Where did she go?" he demanded.

"Why would I tell you?" shouted Gehrich. "You took everything from me!"

"What? I thought you were happy I threw you out."

"Maybe now, I see the greater story, but back then… When you kicked me out, I had nowhere to go. Nobody in Rouge would even speak to me anymore. Even my parents hated me. My sister couldn't stand to look at me. And so, I left. I left so that I could find somewhere that people would see me for who I am!"

"A psychopath?" asked Haschel. "Because that's what you were. You almost killed someone, and you enjoyed it."

"Nobody could ever understand me." Gehrich shook his head sadly. "Can't you see why I left? You ridiculed me into exile!"

"Where is Claire?"

"She hated you, you know."

"Where is she?" Haschel's voice trembled.

Gehrich sneered at him. "Let's make a deal. If you can best me, I'll tell you."

Haschel almost laughed as a murmur ran through the crowd.

"Gladly," he muttered, feeling the rage deep within him. He couldn't decide if he wanted to start with a show of magic or wait until the end of the fight to make it more dramatic.

"Haschel," said Dart behind him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your dragoon spirit back," responded Haschel nonchalantly as Gehrich began wrapping his hands. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're trying to prove something," came Shana's cool voice.

"Nonsense," waved Haschel. "You lot scoot back and I'll show this idiot what power looks like."

As Gehrich made his way off the platform, stretching his arms and shoulders, Dart approached Haschel and tapped his arm.

"She isn't here," he said quietly. "You know that."

"But he knows where she went," replied Haschel fiercely, eyes trained on Gehrich.

"Twenty years ago, maybe. But—"

"This is the first lead I've found," snapped Haschel, rounding on Dart and whispering furiously. "Ever. Twenty years of searching, and this is it. If she's alive, this is the only way I'll make my way to her. So back off, and let me handle this."

Empathy, understanding, or resignation – Haschel wasn't sure which – took over Dart's features as Meru tugged at his arm. The group shifted backward, leaving a wide expanse for the battle that was to follow.

What's it going to be? he thought to himself. Wait and see what Gehrich has to offer? Or just put him in his place right now?

Cheers and jeers rang out from the crowd of bandits as Haschel and Gehrich turned to each other.

Haschel's opponent seemed confident in his stance, a somewhat laughable concept to him. Haschel had been the Master of the Rouge School for two decades before he'd left, and Gehrich had trained there for perhaps six years. Not to mention, Haschel was a dragoon. His battle instincts, agility, strength, and reflexes were all heightened. Still, Gehrich clearly supposed himself to be the superior warrior.

The bandit leader ducked in quickly, relying on his speed to best the old man, but Haschel merely stepped to the side to avoid Gehrich's fist. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he thrust forward, landing a punch in Gehrich's belly. The vague echo of the bandits' response sounded in Haschel's mind as Gehrich nearly stumbled. Then reassessing his situation, Gehrich turned more tentatively to Haschel. As Gehrich punched again, Haschel pushed his arm aside and attacked, only to have Gehrich sweep it away.

They exchanged several blows, Haschel doing his best to let Gehrich seem on equal footing, maybe so that he could have a big finale, but Haschel could feel the dragoon's power pulling at him. Pushing it back down, he broke away for a moment to catch his breath.

Gehrich invited the pause, taking the time to nurse a bleeding lip.

"Looks like the old man isn't as old as he looks," he sneered.

"I think you've grown slower and sloppier since you left my tutelage," returned Haschel. "I actually believed that I might have a challenge, but that was before I saw your technique. Have you even trained since you left Rouge? Or did you let your muscles fade along with your memory of how to hold a proper stance?"

Gehrich growled in response and lunged forward again. Grinning, Haschel dodged once before allowing Gehrich to land a single hit on his chest. Despite his resilience, Haschel still felt the air flee his lungs, but he focused to overcome his mind's instinctual panic until his breath returned.

He considered using magic, and he felt the tingle of electricity on his fingertips, but he thought it might be too dramatic of a show for now. Still, short as the battle was, he grew tired of it.

As he landed a fist on Gehrich's jaw, Haschel once again allowed Gehrich to catch his breath.

"So you really spent twenty years running around the continent, and you couldn't find her?" asked Gehrich, breathing heavily.

"It's a big continent," retorted Haschel.

"Is it, though? Is it really so big that it would take two decades to find one person?"

"It took you thirty years to become a worthless piece of—"

"Look around you!" shouted Gehrich, holding his arms out to indicate the crowd. "I have built an empire!"

"Empire?" scoffed Haschel. "You and your bandits attack feeble old ladies and take the three potatoes they carry in their pockets. You run a hovel of ants, not an empire."

"It's better than your 'school of martial arts!' A bunch of kids hitting each other, and you called it progress? Learning? What did they learn besides how much you hate your own children?"

Fury shot through Haschel, and he dashed forward, his speed overwhelming Gehrich. He landed blow after blow, giving no time to the bandit leader for recovery or retaliation. As his anger threatened to take control of him, the dragoon within took advantage of his unstable mind and released a jolt of energy through his fist. His knuckles made contact with Gehrich's chest, and Haschel felt the massive jolt run through both of them as a loud pop rang out. Gehrich was thrown back, airborne for over a second before he smashed into the side of the pillar.

The fallen leader did not move, and tension rippled over the crowd.

"No, no, no…" mumbled Haschel. "I need him alive!"

He sprinted toward the limp body before placing his finger on the bandit leader's neck. He felt no pulse. His hand flew to Gehrich's chest, and he focused, struggling against his wild mind. Then he let out a tiny string of electricity before feeling again for a heartbeat. Nothing.

He tried once more, fully aware that his one and only lead on Claire might be wasting away with this pathetic excuse for a bandit. The spark ran through Gehrich, and a second later, he started to cough violently as his lungs tried to draw in new breath. Gehrich turned an eye to Haschel, but pain was written across his face.

"You broke me again," breathed Gehrich, though he appeared mostly intact. His scalp was bleeding, though not profusely, but Haschel assumed that several bones had been fractured at the forceful impact. Guilt came over him; the magic had been an accident.

"I didn't mean to," replied Haschel stiffly.

"Which time?"

"… Both." He recalled all the times he'd shouted angrily at a student as if that would make them try harder. "I was… too harsh a teacher. Claire showed me that."

"I can't feel my legs," said Gehrich with fear hidden in his voice. "I think… my back is broken."

"Where?" asked Haschel. "I have someone who can help."

Just as he was about to gesture to Shana, several shouts rang throughout the room. Glancing around, Haschel thought they sounded like they were coming from outside, and he stood at the ready, waiting. The surrounding bandits muttered anxiously as more screams bounced around the arena.

A bandit ran in from the tunnel on Haschel's left, terror written over him, and he shouted out, "We're under attack!"

Several dozen bandits rose to meet the challenge, but like a bottle of shaken ants, another fifty rushed to meet the party on the main floor. Rose and Dart rushed toward their pile of weapons, guarded stalwartly by three bandits, but Rose merely brushed them aside with her magic. As terror seized them, they screamed and ran away, and Rose grabbed her sword and tossed Dart's to him. Haschel trotted over while the rest of the weapons were retrieved and distributed, and the group stood in a circle around Shana, each of them ready to fight within thirty seconds of the announcement.

Chaos erupted, and Haschel found himself beset by multiple bandits at once. They posed no challenge, quick as he was, and soon they lay in a heap on the floor. His friends fared just as well, but the onslaught continued without rest for several minutes as the distant shouts echoed closer and closer. When several dozen enemies lay strewn about them, they had a chance to pause and discern what had caused the uproar. They turned their attention to the upper floor. It was hard to understand what was happening, but after three more bandits fell to the intruder, Haschel could finally make out the giant adversary.

Kongol was marching into the hall, swiping his great axe as he went, cleaving through wave after wave of bandits.

"Uh oh," said Haschel.

"I guess we were right," said Dart, shaking his head.

"Is that Kongol?" asked Meru.

Everyone nodded.

"He's big," she admitted.

The few bandits still remaining in the tiered seats began to flee as they realized their hopeless situation, and for a moment, Haschel considered chasing after them. But his eyes fell to Gehrich, still lying helpless on the ground and straining to keep a tearful eye on the slaughter of his bandit horde.

Haschel couldn't decide whether the man deserved Shana's healing, but he was certain that he would not leave him crippled for the rest of his life.

For a moment, they watched Kongol as he rampaged through the remaining stalwart bandits. Haschel estimated that he must have killed over a hundred by now, and the crowd had thinned considerably. They had only a minute or so before the giganto would descend on them.

"Shana," said Haschel suddenly. She turned to him. "Can you heal Gehrich? His back is broken."

"I can try," she replied firmly before trotting over to him.

"You!" thundered a voice throughout the room, stopping Shana in her tracks. Haschel had waited too long. The group turned to see Kongol watching them carefully as three bandits ran screaming down one of the tunnels. "Why are you here? Why have you defiled the Holy City?"

Somehow, despite his complete knowledge of how easily they could overpower Kongol, Haschel still felt a twinge of fear inside him.

"We only came to take back something they stole from us!" called Dart, gesturing to the slew of bandits surrounding them. "We mean no harm and no disrespect."

Kongol hesitated, then began heavy footsteps down to meet them. Haschel noted that the steps were perfectly sized to Kongol's legs, giant as they may have seemed in comparison to the bandits. Shana hovered by Gehrich as the giganto approached, and the rest prepared to defend themselves.

Upon seeing him more closely, Haschel noted that Kongol no longer wore his great battle armor, but little more than spotty fur armor with matching boots and bracers. Much of his arms and legs were still exposed, along with most of his chest; Haschel found himself slightly jealous of his muscular build. He still wore face paint, two red stripes down across his eyes, and his black hair formed a short mohawk over his tan scalp. He glared at them, dark brown eyes sizing them up as if they were little more than pieces of paper standing in his way. His heavy axe hung in his right hand, threatening to cleave them in two just as it had the bandits.

He stood menacingly before them.

"Are you here to kill us?" asked Dart, surprisingly calm given the circumstances.

"No," replied Kongol, though somewhat hesitant.

"Then why are you here?"

Kongol waited a moment more before glancing at the bandits.

"To find my people."

"I'm so sorry," said Shana quietly, and Kongol's fierce eyes snapped to her.

She cowered for just a moment before raising herself up once more. Then after wrapping her bow around her, she cautiously stepped forward.

"You didn't expect to find this," she reasoned. "You were hoping there were still some giganto here."

He nodded stiffly. For a moment, Haschel thought he saw sorrow cloud Kongol's face, but it was gone an instant later.

"These bandits desecrated the Holy City of the gigantos," explained Kongol. "My people are gone, and their homes are now repurposed as homes for swine. I will purge the city. Will you help me?"

"Why do you want our help?" asked Haschel.

"You are strong," said Kongol simply. "You defeated me; you can defeat the bandits."

Gehrich coughed once, and Kongol turned to him in an instant. Then growling, he charged forward and grabbed Gehrich by the throat and lifted him in the air.

"No, wait!" screamed Haschel as Shana rushed to intervene.

With a mighty thud, Kongol shoved Gehrich into the great pillar, and Haschel was surprised that Gehrich hadn't been knocked unconscious.

"You defiled my people's city!" roared Kongol as the ground trembled. Haschel exchanged a confused glance with Dart, and he noticed Rose's furrowed brow.

"I'm... sorry," sputtered Gehrich as his face turned bright red. His hands grasped uselessly at Kongol's.

"We need him!" shouted Haschel, jumping up next to Kongol.

In any other situation, he would have laughed to see himself, small as he was, trying to wrestle a giganto. But, small as he was, he grabbed onto Kongol's arm and pulled as hard as he dared. Though he knew that Gehrich was responsible for a tremendous amount of suffering in Tiberoa, Haschel needed to know where to find Claire.

Surprised eyes turned to Haschel, and Kongol's grip slackened slightly.

"Need him?"

"Yes, alive!" pleaded Haschel.

"Why should he get to live when my people did not?"

"He knows… something," sputtered Haschel.

"Sometimes," said Albert more clearly, "the best way to honor those who have fallen is to show kindness to those who remain."

Kongol looked at Albert, and then Haschel, and then Dart, and then finally landed on Shana.

"Kindness… You showed me kindness," he whispered.

"Then do the same for this man," she replied with a gentle smile.

Gehrich's face was now nearing a shade of purple as Kongol grunted and dropped him. The bandit leader's useless legs crumpled beneath him, and Haschel heard another crack as his ankle snapped from the force. Then in coughings and sputters, Gehrich struggled to survive.

Dropping to the ground, Haschel lifted Gehrich to help him bring in more air. His neck was bruised, and his ankle was already swollen; Haschel took comfort in the knowledge that Gehrich could not feel the broken bone.

Shana knelt, too, and began to try to heal the worst of the damage. Magical light ran over Gehrich's ankle and legs, healing minor cuts and scrapes and working to set the bone back in place. She then placed a hand on Gehrich's abdomen and concentrated, light flowing from her hand.

"Witchcraft," muttered a horrified Kongol.

"Magic," corrected Rose.

Suddenly Gehrich let out a shout of pain, and Shana jerked back in fear.

"My ankle!" he complained. "I can feel it now."

"Did you not fix it?" demanded Haschel.

"I tried," replied Shana. "My magic isn't strong enough to heal bones. Not like this."

"My back… hurts too," grimaced Gehrich, his face contorted in pain. "It was better before."

"You must have healed his back, but not the bones," muttered Haschel. "He can feel now."

"I'm sorry," said Shana, tears in her eyes. "I was trying to help."

Closing his eyes, Haschel placed a hand on Gehrich's chest, reaching out with his mind. Thanks to several weeks of practice in Bale, he sensed the tiny jumps of electricity running through Gehrich's body, and he felt larger ones stemming from his back and ankle. He grabbed hold of those impulses and held them still, keeping them from flowing up to Gehrich's mind. He felt the body relax, and opening his eyes, he saw relief across the bandit leader's face.

"I'm sorry this happened," said Haschel. "I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

"I understand," replied Gehrich, his voice broken and scratched. "You were trying to best me."

Despite her unsurety, Shana continued with her attempts to heal, focusing carefully to penetrate to the bone with her magic.

"I was too forceful," admitted Haschel. "I always have been. That's why you left, and that's why my daughter left."

"She ran away because of you, but she didn't hate you," coughed Gehrich. "Far from it. She loved you. She cried so much when she tried to tell me what happened."

Despite his lack of respect for Gehrich, these words still caught Haschel. The idea that leaving Rouge was painful for Claire was not something he'd ever considered. He'd always assumed that she was happy to leave and never return. Still, he needed to find her. If he could just have one more conversation with her, apologize and beg her forgiveness, he could die a happy man, whether or not she obliged.

"Where did she go?" pleaded Haschel.

"North… that's… all I remember."

"To Mille Seseau?"

Of course, he thought to himself. She always hated the humidity.

"She didn't say, but… she wasn't like me. I always wanted to be great and have people to lead. She just wanted some peace and quiet. Freedom."

So not a big city, he mused.

"But there's more that I have to confess," muttered Gehrich. His eyes fluttered for a moment, and Haschel feared the worst.

"What is it?" prodded Haschel, trying to keep Gehrich awake.

"The princess…" he mumbled. "She hired us to attack the people. She wanted them to be afraid and depend on her for guidance. But she's… fake."

"Fake?" Haschel shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The real princess is hidden in the castle, away from the king so he wouldn't be able to find her. Only magic can release her."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm dying," said Gehrich simply. "Who better to tell my sins than my master?"

"You're not going to die," insisted Haschel, though he could see Gehrich slipping away.

"Redeem me." His voice was barely a whisper. "Stop her… from taking over. Bring peace back…"

His eyes closed, and his body fell limp. Shana's magic ceased, and she stood slowly as a tear fell to the ground. Gingerly, Haschel laid Gehrich down and stood.

"An imposter?" remarked Albert. "We should address this as soon as possible."

"He died," said Kongol. "What was the purpose of 'kindness?'"

"He told us what we needed to know," replied Haschel, his mind north in Mille Seseau.

"We can't leave yet," announced Dart. "I have to find my dragoon spirit."

"And Lynn is around here somewhere," inserted Meru.

"If we help Kongol purge the rest of the bandits," offered Albert, "we could search for the dragoon spirit and Lynn simultaneously."

"I agree," nodded Dart.

"I'm going to bury him," said Haschel, eyes still trained on Gehrich's body.

"So Haschel buries Gehrich," repeated Dart. "Meru, Albert, and Rose can go that way, and Shana, Kongol, and I can go that way. Meet back here?" His hands gestured to each person in turn. "You alright with that, Kongol?"

The group turned to the giganto, hesitant at his response, but he merely nodded stiffly.

"You all have fun," said Haschel as he knelt next to Gehrich once more.

A painfully awkward silence followed the others as they left the room through the upper tunnels, and Haschel lifted Gehrich and carried him through the main entrance. Sunlight assaulted his vision, and he squinted for a moment while he tried to find open earth. At last, he spotted what looked like an old flower bed far to his right, and he carefully descended the steps into the large, open square.

He wasn't sure why he was so focused on this burial. He'd always disliked Gehrich, even almost thirty years ago when he was a young student. Something about him had been off-putting, something peculiar that had forced Haschel to be mentally defensive. It had felt as if Gehrich had a seething, fierce desire to cause pain in those around him. Because of this, Haschel had always held him at arm's length. Upon his near-fatal injury of a fellow student, Gehrich had earned himself banishment from the Rouge School. Haschel recalled his wrath, and he'd almost expected a fight in retaliation, much like the one he'd received today. But none came. Instead, Gehrich had simply left the next day, never to be seen again.

Upon reaching the open stretch of earth, Haschel set Gehrich's body on the ground and glanced around, realizing at this moment that he had no tools to help dig a grave. He held up his hand and shot an arc of purple electricity at the ground, but it only served to spray the surrounding area with earth; it would be difficult to fill in the grave with the contents scattered across the town square. Sighing, he trudged toward the nearest building and poked his head inside.

After rustling around for several minutes and tackling a particularly large spider, he finally found a shovel and made his way outside. As he began to dig the grave, he heard sporadic shouts and other signs of battle off in the distance, and he supposed that his companions had found more bandits hiding in dusty corners of the city. He considered their interactions with Kongol and wondered at how easily the others had seemed to accept him. Perhaps their acceptance was merely temporary, but Haschel recalled Dart's and Shana's peculiar mercy in the Black Castle. Here they were slaughtering bandits without a second thought, but Kongol had been different. Was it because of his race? It seemed a strong possibility that he was the last of his kind. To have killed him would have been genocide.

Still, Haschel felt a certain unease about having the giant with them. There was no real need to bring him along, and his presence would only bring about an onslaught of questions and odd gazes everywhere they went. Their entire journey so far had been defined by secrecy, by keeping their dragoon nature and the king's true identity hidden. The king was now known; was it their fate to be discovered as warriors of legend next?

He paused, his breath slightly labored but noticeably lessened thanks to the continual recharging power of his dragoon spirit. His eyes turned to Gehrich, his lifeless body still gazing up at the blue sky overhead. At least, whatever happened next, Haschel finally had a direction to head in.

Swearing, he cursed himself for never having gone north. He'd considered it many times, but there had been too many distractions. For too long, his journey to find his daughter had really been an exploration of the continent's finest ales. He'd given up. He now realized that he'd given up long ago, perhaps within six months of leaving Rouge. He'd visit new places under the guise of searching, but in truth, it had just served his own wanderlust. Or maybe, he'd been afraid to find Claire.

Yes, that was it, he admitted to himself as he continued digging the six-foot grave. He'd been less than ambitious in his search because he was afraid of what he'd find. Gehrich had said that Claire loved him, but he'd spent twenty-five years believing the opposite. He was afraid that he'd find her, and she would spit in his face, burning him with her hatred.

Part of him wanted to sprint the whole way to Mille Seseau.

Part of him never wanted to go at all.

Judging the grave to be deep enough, he tossed aside the shovel and placed Gehrich's body inside. Then working much more quickly this time, he covered it up and tamped down the loose earth before standing awkwardly to the side.

Shouts from the others in the main hall echoed through the courtyard, but he didn't try to discern joy or anger. He focused as best he could.

"I guess I should say something," he mumbled to himself. Then he cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. "At least, that's what your mom would want me to do. I think."

He chuckled to himself. He recalled several times that Gehrich's mother had expressed a deep disdain for her son's erratic behavior. But he knew that she'd loved him, and she had mourned his departure for several years.

"I trained you when you were just a boy, and you showed great promise in the Rouge art. You struggled. And you grew frustrated. And I think that frustration led to your incapacitation of young Alfyn. You made some poor decisions…"

This is a funeral service, he scolded himself. Think of something positive.

"… But even in your frustration, you found a way to build it into something powerful. In the end… In the end, you chose to do what was right… sort of… Gods, this is hard. I hated you." He laughed. "Blah, blah, blah, may your soul rest in peace, so on and so forth…" He waved toward the grave. "We're done here."

Turning back toward the sounds of his friends, he sighed, unsure as to how he felt about all this. In the end, he knew that he couldn't just go traipsing off to Mille Seseau without everyone else, and especially not with leaving the country in turmoil.

No, they had a princess to save.