A month and a half had passed since the Battle of Nomos as it was called, a smaller part of the Burning of Themis. Most all of the duchy's citizens and even the duke himself had been evacuated to Ylisstol by the majority of the Shepherds and Pegasus Knights while a small number stayed behind to clear out and assess the ruined capital. Nicola and Maribelle were two of those who had chosen to stay, both working tirelessly to rescue as many people as possible while making the city as clear as possible for the eventual reconstruction effort.

Nicola had mainly helped with the latter, breaking down and moving large amounts of stone to make Maribelle's rescue attempts much easier when he wasn't fighting off any stragglers from the attack. Many people saw him do both of these things, ranging from the civilians he'd saved to the few Shepherds and Pegasus Knights that had chosen to stay to the Wing Commander and Duke of Themis himself. That led to a great deal of recognition and said recognition led to a great deal of tedium.

One such bit of tedium was the upcoming ceremony to honor those who had helped defend and aid the Themis duchy. Nicola had been chosen for said ceremony, much to his chagrin and intense protest. He didn't risk his life for some reward or fame, he risked his life because people had been in danger and he refused to sit there and do nothing. The fact that the supposed perpetrator knew him from before he'd arrived on Ylisse was just icing on the proverbial cake. It was rather unfortunate that others didn't see it that way and, despite there being a swell of unrest from a small group, wanted to praise him for things he'd done without a second thought. More unfortunate was the fact that he could not simply skip out on the event: Maribelle, Virion and a number of servants were sent to keep an eye on him and help him prepare for the event.

The scowl on his face had hardly left it since then.

"Is this really necessary?"

Yes.

"Yes, without question, Nicola."

"And I have to dress up?"

Yes, doing otherwise defeats the purpose of the ceremony.

"Indeed, you are being hailed as a hero within the halidom, it only makes sense that you appear at your best, Nicola."

"And you aren't, Maribelle?" The spearman winced as the noblewoman pulled at another loose strand of hair, attempting to get the unruly mass of green to cooperate for the second time.

"I have... prior obligations that must be attended to," she replied, voice taking on an uncharacteristically dour tone. "Besides, this is a high honor for you, Nicola. Few foreigners earn the recognition of the Ylissean nobility, let alone the Wing Commander and the Exalt."

"I did what anyone would—ow, be a bit gentler would you—do."

"Oaf, must I inform you once more that not just anyone could have lifted and moved around the debris and collapsed stone in the manner in which you did," Maribelle chided as she tied a band around the majority of his now pulled back hair. A decently sized section escaped at the last moment, giving the former summoner a loose bang of sorts, much to Maribelle's exasperation. Regardless, she continued. "Nor cloud they have moved as much stone in a single go as you. I dare say your inhuman strength played a large role in this. Your strength and, if the rumors are to be believed, your spearmanship."

The former summoner grimaced. He wanted no part of the ceremony, though he could understand why he was being made to participate. After he'd recovered from his endeavors across the Themis duchy, he had immediately gone to work helping the rescue efforts headed by the Pegasus Knights and clearing a wide enough path for the Shepherd's terrestrial mounts and cart. It helped that he could, with a bit of direction from the then awake and woefully glib Apollyon, clear out the crests of ash that made Nomos look like a desert of grey and white. Apollyon was the better hand at manipulating ash by far, pounding the basics of doing so properly into Nicola's head once he realized his other was just shaping and moving the substance with no real focus or goal. By the time the formless voice was done Nicola could do more than make blades or simple walls of ash, now capable of more actively displacing the ash or shaping it into important shapes, though his ability paled compared to Apollyon's by far. Another thing to master if he had time.

Speaking of Apollyon, the voice did not mention what it and Maribelle discussed while he was unconscious.

Ask her. That had been the rather unhelpful reply, more so considering Maribelle wasn't the most keen on repeating herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that the noblewoman was currently fussing with his hair while Virion looked around for a suitable set of formal clothes he could wear to the event, neither being things he wanted to happen. It was required however and the two of them were the best suited for the job he found rather begrudgingly.

"If I leave you to it, you'll show up with an unkempt knot of hair and call it a day," Maribelle huffed. "With that aside, your hair, though far shorter, is similar to my own. If anyone would know how to style your hair it would be me. Now cease moving before I pull out a clump by accident."

She nearly had when she saw his ears, longer than those of a human and ending in defined points, after pulling back the vast majority of his hair after making him wash it twice and run a fine toothed comb through it. She grumbled at how easily the comb went through his dark locks despite how tangled it should have been.

"Roguish and dashing you may be, but for this event you must look the part of a man of prestige," Virion smirked as he laid out a neatly folded set of clothing from his own wardrobe. The spearman was thankful the teal haired nobleman had clothes that weren't made entirely of frills and ruffles, but was mildly concerned that such clothes were the ones he chose to wear most commonly. "It would reflect poorly on the ceremony as a whole if you didn't look your best as the one being honored."

The issue was, Nicola didn't want to be honored. As far as he was concerned he'd done nothing out of the ordinary, which was perhaps part of the issue. Using his strength and, when his repertoire was more diverse, magic to help people was a common occurrence in Zenith, not because the people there were needy but because one could count the number of peaceful days before something eventful happened on a single hand at any given point. Sometimes it was a hostile nation attacking Askr or a neighboring village, settlement or ally requesting help. Other times it was being woken up before the sun rose to deal with whatever new ruins had been dug up or what oddity had been awakened between Askran and Emblan meddling—the miles wide chaotic rift of fragmented worlds and wild magic known as the Tempest and the floating fortresses that sky pirates from other worlds kept attack immediately came to mind. He wasn't always called to deal with those issues specifically, but the Order of Heroes often was and he had to help out in one way or another when that did happen.

Not that he minded, helping others was second nature to him.

Yes, to your detriment. Or do you not recall the tongue lashings you received for foregoing rest or pushing yourself too hard?

He had not. The Askran princess, his best friend and fiancé before her passing, was quite stern with him when it came to overworking himself for all that she would do the same when it came to diplomatic treatise and improving relationships between people. She wasn't as terrifying in a battle as her brother or Nifl's princess, but she more than made up for it with charisma and charm capable of breaking the bindings on those forced to serve other nations.

A rueful smile crossed his face. He would miss Sharena, truly and utterly. Her death would always stick with him as a reminder that he couldn't do everything, even if he wanted to. Even if he was moving on slowly. He would avenge her and those who fell to the Goddess of Death, then perhaps he could forgive himself for the lives lost using Angraboda's Heart.

"Oaf, retain your composure," Maribelle warned, gently. "Should you cry now, bringing you to a presentable state will become far more difficult."

"I'm not going to cry," Nicola huffed. "I was simply reminiscing."

"Truly?" He felt the noblewoman give him a hard look. "Hm, I suppose you are correct."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means I misread the look on your face, though perhaps not entirely. I believe you were taken by nostalgia for a moment, the painful longing sort rather than the wistful memories of good times past."

"And if I wasn't?"

"You'd be far more shrewd and hard to read than your eyes entail."

Right, his eyes did change colors. Supposedly. He hadn't exactly seen that in action bar the reflection he saw before he passed out months ago. Perhaps that had to do with him lacking a mirror or many reflective surfaces in his borrowed and soon to be vacated room. He didn't really need one in his opinion, he'd kept himself groomed for so long without a mirror that all the necessary processes were second nature, but having one on hand to see what the others saw when his eyes changed colors was something to look into. He'd do that when the Anna accompanying the Shepherds wasn't the only real merchant he could purchase from, he wasn't going to pay upwards of thrice the price for something he didn't need. With that being said...

"What color are my eyes now?" Nicola didn't expect Maribelle to stop what she was doing and peer down at his face, golden curls hanging loosely as wine red eyes locked with his.

"Ash grey again, the same they were when we spoke after your return." She soon got back to work.

"And what was that talk about? I don't recall having it."

"You did say to expect something along those lines then, though I thought you'd bring this up weeks ago, if not on the same day," Maribelle breathed. "We talked about your past—how devastation on par with what occurred in my home was all too commonplace back in your homeland. You also made me promise, if it was within my power, to stop you from losing yourself in grief or madness. When I suggested asking that of someone more capable of soothing you, you specifically said that it would require a firm hand rather than a soft touch to reach you if you lost yourself." That explained her insistence when he tried blaming himself for the attack then. "You also made a grave promise, that when the time came you would reveal the truth about yourself in full once you were ready and that I should hold from mentioning your... additional oddities until you were ready to address them."

It was that or risk her bringing it up at a less than opportune time. I believe that Maribelle can be trusted, but only when you are comfortable with it. I neither gave her a timeframe nor an idea of when to expect such a revelation, so take as long as you need.

That's all fine and dandy, but what if I don't want to talk to anyone in this world about that, Apollyon?

Then I suspect that should anyone other than Maribelle, Emmeryn or Phila find out about your transformative traits you will have a very good explanation for it. The voice was dry in its sarcasm. I do not believe that you should open up to everyone about the secrets of your body, not unless you are given no choice in the matter. To those already aware of said secrets, however, knowing what is going on could allow them to help you keep said secrets secret, within reason. I would not bring up such a thing if not for two instances of you being found out occurring, though it isn't as if I don't have a thing or three in mind to prevent a third incident occurring.

And what pray tell are those plans?

The easiest thing would be to say that you've a rather potent curse on your person from Zenith, one that only flares when you are injured in an attempt to change you from man to beast. It would be a lie, but a plausible one. The issue being it would make Frederick a number of others much more wary of you and perhaps far less accepting. The second would be to claim you have the blood of dragons flowing through your veins, but it is not something you can control just yet. The issue there is–

I have no Dragonstone to prove that and anyone familiar with Manakete would question that and why I haven't lost my mind, no?

Indeed. It is that or they could accuse you of being an agent of the Fell Dragon or an evil dragon yourself. It doesn't exactly help that blessed weapons are effective in forcing parts of you to shift.

What about the third plan?

That one I will keep to myself at this time, less for secrecy and more to think more on the feasibility of it. When I've come to a conclusion in that regard I will let you know.

With that the voice ceased, leaving Nicola to stew in his thoughts as Maribelle finished working on his hair. Unlike Nicola, she did possess a mirror and she had no qualms with allowing the former summoner time to look over himself. His hair had grown longer, falling past his shoulders and partially down his back now, and it was fairly easy to make out green stands in the normally dark mass—a benefit of having not seen a barber in a long and unspecified length of time. His face looked a little thinner than he remembered and his complexion had lightened, but he had far fewer bags under his surprisingly silvery grey eyes and he looked properly awake for the first time in what felt like months.

"I guess they are silver," he remarked, paying a bit more attention to his hair. His normally wild hair had a bit more of an organized look to it, styled in a loose ponytail with long bangs that framed his face. The ends of said bangs had been curled slightly, Nicola having glared greatswords at Maribelle when she jested about styling his hair as she did hers.

"With how easy your hair is to work with, what would normally take an hour or so would only take half of one," she smirked past his glare. "Though I dare say it wouldn't suit you very well and I don't believe you would want to sit for much longer with how vehemently you were glaring at the walls while I worked."

Ah, he'd been doing that again. Another thing to work on.

"You would be correct. There's a reason I run a hand and possibly brush through my hair before I start the day, I can't be bothered to style it."

"And you wouldn't be inclined to cut it?"

"It stops growing once it gets a bit longer than this," he shrugged, gesturing vaguely to just above his elbow. "When it becomes too much to easily wash, I tie it off and cut off the excess with a pair of shears."

"Why shears," Maribelle's tone dropped.

"Most normal scissors I've tried using or had a barber use broke. It's either use a pair of shears or use some form of enchanted blade to cut through my hair and I'd much prefer to use the former."

Left unsaid was the fact that he'd tried to use an enchanted blade on his hair at some point. Maribelle wasn't going to question it, it wasn't worth the migraine that would entail.

"I have a different question. What are we going to do about your ears? I imagine–"

"I'll deal with that, Mari, no need to worry about it," Nicola said off handedly.

"...Mari?" There was a hint of confusion and something else in Maribelle's voice when she finally responded. Nicola wasn't quite sure what it was.

"You call me oaf, I'm calling you Mari. It's only fair."

"Not Pinky?" Her tone grew wry.

"Did you want to be called Pinky?"

"Understandable," the noblewoman sniffed, feigning haughtiness as her voice returned to normal. "I will allow this, but not in public venues. As much as I consider you a friend, the less rumors spread by other nobles the better."

"Reasonable, though wouldn't they say something regardless considering you helped out with my appearance today?"

"Plausible deniability. Any of the number of servants in the area could have helped get you into presentable condition while myself and the noble more frills than man could have helped direct and coordinate their work."

"You wound me, madam," Virion said, returning with a coat. "I will have you know, I am just as much a man as dear Nicola there, we simply have different professions."

"Indeed, you're a member of the nobility, foreign though you may be, while he is a—"

"Technically, I'm also a noble," Nicola piped up, earning looks from the others as he unfolded the beige pants Virion brought. He made it halfway through pulling them on before continuing. "Did I not mention that before?"

"You did not," Maribelle grumbled, cheeks flushing pink as she turned away. Though she'd seen him practically naked when his clothes had been ruined in the Battle of Nomos and when she helped take care of his injuries while he'd been unconscious, Nicola actively changing before her wasn't something she was ready to see.

"No, my friend, you didn't," Virion affirmed, handing the former summoner a belt, which he loosely fastened.

"In my home I was a commoner, though I was elevated to noble status through my actions and merits," the dark haired youth explained, tugging the frilled shirt on. "Once you help prevent three tentatively allied kingdoms from war and ruin, you earn a bit of prestige and some attention from the monarchs of each. That's what happened to me and I was named a count, not that it really matters anymore."

He'd been against the appointment, vehemently so, but he'd been overruled by Askr's king and queen and further by Veronica and Nifl's prince turned king. Thankfully he was given a small number of people to watch over, but that didn't stop him from dreading the work it entailed or the numerous lessons on noble etiquette and poise that had been drilled into him. It was, however, the only way he'd been allowed to court Sharena officially, once her mother and father found that she fancied him. The one other upside was that he became rather good at handling paperwork and reading reports, but he hadn't been able to really use the things he'd learned from the appointment before everything was turned on its head. Another thing to blame on the Goddess of Death.

"Of course it matters," Maribelle exclaimed. "The fact that you were raised to nobility means, even in a foreign land, that you should be treated with some form of respect and dignity! The folk, common and otherwise, should still treat you as a noble, even if you would fall beneath their station, rather than as some unruly riffraff deserving of scorn."

"I am inclined to agree with the fair lady, Nicola," Virion nodded. "You may be a man of the people, but that does not mean that you should be treated any lesser than what your station entails."

"Even if all the people I would preside over are long dead and gone?" There was a brief lull in the conversation as the dark haired youth buttoned up the shirt.

"What?" Maribelle's eyes widened as Nicola gave a derisive sound.

"That's why it doesn't matter what my technical rank is as a noble, the people I would have ruled over died and that land was lost to a foe I don't possess the power to defeat. Not yet, at least."

He would defeat her, even if he couldn't find the weapon he was looking for. It was rather clear that there was more than one weapon across the world capable of defeating divine beings, their names and origins were simply lost or hidden. The Kingsfang had simply been the one he found a name for.

"I see, I misspoke then. My apologies," Maribelle began, but Nicola waved her off.

"You didn't know and I didn't think to tell you. Being fair, I didn't think it was important and I wouldn't stand to be treated any differently regardless."

"Truly?" Virion arched an eyebrow.

"Yes. At the end of the day, I'll just be Nicola, regardless of any titles and accolades I receive."

"I see..." Virion's expression grew complicated then contemplative. "It isn't to say that you don't understand nobility or titles, but that you don't see why they matter in relation to yourself if you receive them? They matter less to you than monikers based on your prowess or reputation, I presume?"

"Right."

"You'd make a great lord, but would be utterly out of your depth when it comes to politicking then," the archer nodded. "You see the world clearly and for what it should be, rather than wading into the murky lines of territories, treatises, dealings with enemies and prestige. That isn't a bad thing, if anything that's rather good."

"And why is that?"

"For one, it means you can't do everything and anything and you are keenly aware of that," the teal haired noble explained. "That's a good thing because it means that you are, to some degree, grounded and recognize your own limits. You wish to surpass them, I would think, but you do not believe yourself to be capable of all things."

"Right, it'd be silly to think that, especially when I've seen my limits rather clearly," Nicola nodded, wrestling with the ruffled collar of the borrowed shirt until Maribelle helped him fasten it. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it, you would have turned yourself into a wrinkled mess otherwise."

"I cannot tell if you are humble or largely self-deprecating, my friend," Virion sighed as Nicola neatly tucked in his shirt and fiddled with his sleeves. He gestured for the youth to hold out his arms and he slipped a dark grey vest on his person once he complied. Once Nicola finished buttoning the vest, the noble handed him a marine blue coat with golden embroidery. "As strong as you are, that is not your only good trait."

"Is my strength even a good trait, outside of situations like Nomos and battles?"

"Why of course it is, especially with the fine control you appear to have over it," Virion assuaged. "Were you unable to control your strength, it would be a terrible burden without question, but instead you show rather fine control over power that could easily harm others or yourself if you were not careful. Besides that, you have a heart in the right place and you–"

"Let's not get his head too large now, shall we," Maribelle hastily interrupted. "Regardless, you are more than your strength Nicola and if you attempt to blame yourself for Nomos once more..."

The noblewoman gave him a fierce glare, telling him not to test her on the matter. When it became clear that he would not, she relented.

"Now if only we could get you to wear another set of boots," Maribelle sighed instead, eyeing the worn, but still completely intact boots Nicola put on to complete his outfit. Virion passed him a pair of white gloves to properly finish the outfit and both nobles looked over the spearman to ensure nothing was off about his appearance.

"What do you think milady?"

"He's passable at the very least. If his shoes were different I might have mistaken him for another noble from afar. I doubt anyone else will mind, barring Sir Frederick, however."

"I concur there. Perhaps we can find another pair of more suitable shoes in the meantime."

"The boots stay," Nicola said almost immediately. "These have served me well for the past few years, I'm keeping them until I outgrow them or they break down. Whichever happens first."

Virion winced. He knew that sort of stubbornness rather well, the sort where a person was nigh immovable from their stance. His vassal was stubborn in the same manner, both in person and in the letters she'd sent him recently, though her stubbornness was aimed more at refining him into a proper gentleman—as if he wasn't already, his philandering had slowed to a crawl after she'd promised to hang him from the top of his manse if another maiden complained about his then deplorable behavior. In his youth and inexperience he hadn't expected her to follow through with said promise—a threat was meant to cow and stop behavior by using the consequence as a deterrent, a promise was a guarantee if it was within the ability of the person making it. At least she was safe according to her most recent letter, as safe as one could be leading resistance against a tyrant.

"V-very well, we'll leave the shoes alone."

"With that all said and done, is there anything else that needs to be done?"

"Interested in the ceremony now, are we," Maribelle teased.

"No, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to moving my things and finding myself a place to stay outside the palace."

"You could always join the Shepherds. Prince Chrom would absolutely be willing to accommodate you."

"I could, but I'm not interested in doing so. We've been over this."

"Yes and I believe that decision is rather silly. You spend a great deal of time around the Shepherds when you aren't off training with the Wing Commander or off at the Mage's College. What difference would it make if you joined them? I imagine Chrom would be perfectly willing to allow you to continue as you are, save for when the Shepherds are needed."

"You're correct in that regard. Chrom would be accommodating if he felt he needed to be. The issue isn't with him, it's with me."

"You still believe you aren't ready or able to join them?"

"Yes and before you start, it's not due to a lack of ability. There are some things I need to work through and some answers I need to find before I can consider joining the prince or deciding whether or not I simply need to move on."

"Settle down, both of you," Virion sighed, seeing the tension rise in the room. That had been a point of contention between Nicola and most of the Shepherds: he was a Shepherd in all but name, helping them when he was free to and spending his time with them if he wasn't otherwise preoccupied, but he adamantly refused to join the group. To some, like Vaike and Sully and Frederick, it was an offense and slight towards the group or its leader. To others, notably Chrom and Robin, it was no issue at all. Virion was a more neutral party in that regard, sharing that stance with the swordsman the prince had recruited from Regna Ferox and the halidom's princess, where the remaining members of the Shepherds fell to either side of the issue in varying shades.

The young magi who accompanied the group to the border and his fast friend wearing the pot for a helm wanted the spearman to join, the former keen on showing off his growing repertoire of magic to him while the latter wanted to learn as much as he could from him after having seen his spearmanship in action. The older mage among the group and sweet Sumia similarly were interested in him joining, though the former was no doubt less interested in the young man as a person and more in his ability to manipulate ashes and cinders. The knights within the Shepherds he had very little read on, though the one who could vanish when he pleased seemed to dislike the spearman more than the one who was a rather talented chef but otherwise well rounded and balanced—making him an outlier among outliers in a group like the Shepherds, where everyone excelled at something. Maribelle was ambivalent towards him despite her harsh tone and insistence, she just did not want to lose track of her second friend, assuming Virion had read her correctly. Then there was the Anna among them, who he could not read and not for lack of trying. Then again, attempting to see an Anna's true intentions when she did not wish it known was a fool's errand.

Virion dismissed that line of reasoning as he gave the spearman another once over. Nicola could look dashing when he cleaned up, beyond his natural roguish charm. Why, if he'd been interested in learning and was far less introverted, Virion could see the youth stealing many hearts with just a smile. As he was now he was far too pure of heart to pull that off, but the way he quirked his eyes and the teasing smiles that occasionally graced his surprisingly soft features would definitely earn him some fans among the fairer sex. He had no right to be as handsome as he was with how little effort he put into himself.

"You clean up well, Nicola," the noble eventually said. "I believe Sir Frederick and your escort will arrive soon and we can make our way to the venue."

As if accenting the noble's words, crisp firm knocking came from the room's entrance.

"I'm coming in," a cool voice announced as the door swung open. Frederick strode into the room, wearing a simple black suit with an indigo tie in place of his usual armor. He looked over Nicola, cocking an eyebrow at the youth's shoes and pointed ears, but commented on neither. "I see that you are fully ready to go. Shall we get this over with?"

The knight and steward's tone made it clear that he was just as exasperated with the ceremony as Nicola was, if not more. Nicola simply needed to clean up and look nice for the event, Frederick had to do that and also manage getting all of the guests in order, ensuring that those being honored were ready or meaning a ready state and pass messages across the palace in record time. Despite all of that, he looked impeccable, without a single blemish on his crisp suit or a single hair out of place.

He wasn't alone either. Standing out in the hall was the wing commander's sister, wearing a modified set of armor compared to what a Pegasus Knight usually wore. This set had thick baggy white pants that tapered around the shins into a pair of silver armored boots. A sleeveless slim fitting tunic bearing the Ylissean crest, light blue in color, with silver gauntlets along her arms, a matching gorget along her neck and a simple sword at her side. Ylissean color scheme, but the garb was anything but Ylissean, unless the nation had a hidden contingent of Wyvern Riders hailing from a different nation with no known neighbors.

"Ready when you are Frederick, Aquila," Nicola nodded.

"Good," the knight breathed, sighing in relief. "Come along. Lady Aquila will escort you once we reach the venue. Until then, I will accompany you and explain the order of events."

"Understandable," Nicola looked back at Maribelle and Virion. "I'll see both of you after the event, I imagine?"

"Indeed."

"Perhaps. I may be busy for a short period of time after the ceremony begins and for some time after," Virion noted. "If not today, I'd be both open and willing to play a few games of chess on the morrow."

Nicola scrunched his face at the thought. He didn't really enjoy chess, not like Robin, Morgan or Virion. He still played because he was allegedly decent at it, but only when he wasn't focusing and agonizing over his moves. He hadn't played a match since the attack on Themis, more important things had clearly been preoccupying his time. With that said, perhaps taking some time to attempt to unwind was a good idea, there was only so much he could do otherwise and several people would get on his case if he kept pushing himself—member of their organization or not. He also needed to check back in with the smith Anna and get her assessment on Demna's condition, but that could wait. It would have to.

The trek through the palace was no different from any other to Nicola, excluding the occasional bows and much more attention being brought to him. He was happy people didn't try shaking his hands or anything similar as Frederick and Aquila escorted him to their destination, praise never sat well with him when he did what he felt was right. Not directed at him at least, it felt awkward. He kept quiet on that as they reached the courtyard, feeling more and more out of his depth as they walked and Frederick explained the order of events.

"The first thing on the agenda will be an address from lady Emmeryn, telling the people of the attack and the ultimate outcome. Once that is done, you and the others being honored will be escorted out and individually have your accolades told to the people. At this point you will stand before the Exalt and expected to take a knee as you are given your reward. Once everyone being honored by the event has been called out, you will all be given medals and escorted from the area." Frederick glanced back at the youth. "Do you have any questions thus far?"

"There's more?"

"Unfortunately. Following this, you and the others will be taken to a banquet held in your honor and will more than likely be requisitioned by the nobility to join one of their many factions. Once the banquet is finished, you will be free to do as you please."

"Am I allowed to leave the banquet early?"

"To do so would be considered a major slight to all present unless a good reason was given." Nicola could feel the irritation in Frederick's voice for all that the knight kept his tone even. For once it wasn't directed at him. "I imagine I don't need to explain why that in particular would be a bad thing for you."

"You do not," Nicola said, biting back a sigh. So much for slinking off when everyone was preoccupied then. He wasn't going to deal with the church menacing him and a group of incensed nobles, not when he still had a few more things to look into before he officially left the halidom.

"If it makes you feel any better, the banquet was added at the very last minute," Aquila sighed. "If not for pressure from the nobility, the event would have been much smaller in scale."

"Indeed. I rather disliked having my schedule interrupted to make sure said banquet didn't become a disaster over the last few days," Frederick agreed. "But some things are outside of our lady's hands, especially when most dukes and duchesses of the halidom agree on the same idea."

Nicola bobbed his head along. While he wouldn't say he was accustomed to nobles such as these, he knew what it felt like to suddenly be told that everything had changed at the very last moment. That never felt good. Hopefully Emmeryn was taking that well, she didn't seem to be the sort to throw lavish parties and the like from what he knew of her. Maribelle was more likely to do such a thing, but on her terms only

Soon, the trio made their way away from the castle to the plaza in the middle of the capital. Nicola grimaced at the crowd of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people he saw gathering as the sun was obscured by plump white clouds across a cool blue sky. The crisp air and faint traces of snow marked a warmer winter day within the halidom, one of very few from what the spearman had been told.

Eventually, the group arrived in a small building adjoining the plaza, where a dozen or so other people waited alongside their own escorts.

"My role here is at an end," Frederick said once they arrived. "I believe I will see you at the banquet. I will not say play nice with the nobility, but do try to not leave a negative impression if they do approach you."

With that the knight left the building briskly, leaving Nicola and Aquila among the others there for the event. He easily recognized Stahl and Cordelia among the group, the former wearing a simple suit and tie while the latter fidgeted in a corner in a pure white dress with detached sleeves. Another person he presumed to be a Pegasus Knight waved at him once she saw him, earning a nod and wave from Aquila. He returned the wave and nodded to Stahl once the green haired man saw him, both flashing pleasant smiles. Nicola began making his way over to the other green haired man when he saw a swish of silvery white hair bob past the edge of his vision. His head turned and he saw a woman with back length silver hair tied in a ponytail not unlike his own, but higher on her head and with shorter bangs.

Rather than wear a dress they wore a sleeveless grey tunic over baggy trousers and boots for any environment.

There's no way.

It couldn't be.

Nicola made a beeline towards the person, muttering a quiet apology as he abruptly brushed past Stahl. Images were forming in his head, images of a face he'd long forgotten despite remembering the person it belonged to clearly. Their smile, their laugh, the frustrated pout they made when he teased them. Their mourning form when they lost friends and role models to unending conflict, their enraged look when he'd been ordered to go on what should have been a death sentence for all involved, their relieved expression when he returned in one piece.

He reached out to them and spoke the first word that came to mind.

"Sister?"

A/N: Back from my break. Took longer than expected, in part because starting a new arc is pretty tough for me, starting anything writing related compared to continuing it really. If it was just one story that'd be fine, but two more are coming along soon as well, though with vastly different main characters so there's issue with starting things up and making sure that I have their voices right. With that said, not much happened this chapter on paper, but there are a few subtle things hidden throughout aside from the rather notable reveal. More on the subtle things will come up in the future and next chapter will expand upon the end of this one. That one will be in two weeks, what with the Thanksgiving Holiday coming up and a few big things immediately after it, unless I finish it earlier than anticipated.

As usual, if you enjoyed this chapter and want to see things from other writers, consider visiting the Fanfiction Treehouse Discord Server (9XG3U7a). You don't need to be a writer to join or anything like that and the community is pretty active and comfy. Regardless of that, thank you for reading thus far and I'll see you with the next chapter or start of a new story.