Blind Devotion

by dnd4evr

While on the run from a haunting past, a half-orc warlock finds himself the chance companion of a blind elf doctor. Despite her quirks, he finds great comfort in her company, and the two make fast friends...even if their enemies are never far behind. All original characters that are HIGHLY INSPIRED by the cast of Critical Role.

23. The Seeds are Sown

[Author's Note: I want to apologize for taking so long to post this. New job, new house, lots of life changes basically, and the longer this delayed, the harder it got to start.
I'd like to personally thank wompertson for reaching out to me and keeping me going, Castonus for edits, encouragement, and PCs I could borrow, and fullmoon for sending a comment that finally got me out of my funk. I owe this chapter to them, and I'll do what I can to keep writing! Thank you!]

The ancestral home of the De Rolo family, Castle Whitestone was a grand, gothic affair that unabashedly reached to the heavens. The white stones of the Alabaster Peaks, from which the city gained its name, was the majority of its construction, and its eastward side shone from the reflected sunlight of that brisk morning. Banners emblazoned with the heraldry of Whitestone barely drifted in the breeze, their heavy construction making them nearly immovable to all but the most tenacious of wind, and the sun sparkled off the golden threads that made the Suntree at the center of the crest. Truly, Castle Whitestone was a testament to the indomitable spirit of its people, as it bore no visible influence of its past oppressors.

But scars run deep, and some will only fade if hidden from view. Several windows glinted a slightly different shade as their neighbors, as they had been more recently replaced. One tower shone slightly brighter, its stones newer than its brothers. As they walked toward the front steps, past the gate that separated the grounds of nobility from the city, Dahlia caught the mixed scent of a plethora of poisonous plants, including the infamous corpseweed that was so fond of rotting flesh. Even among the scents, she heard no voices, but she did hear the movement of attendants as they went about their tasks in the gardens. She was struck with the impression of reverent silence, similar to how one may hold their voice in a place of death and remembrance. Even in her blindness, it was quite clear to her that the distance of a generation was not enough to fade the scars of the Briarwoods' brief, but absolute, occupation.

To her seeing companions, what surrounded them was elegant opulence. Immaculate gardens flanked and bordered strange vents, mechanical mysteries, and wrought iron accents of benches and lamps that all were tinged with a ghastly, unnatural green glow. Although this was unknown to them, what caused these various contraptions to shine was the runoff from residuum manufacturing, deep below the grounds, that had been utilized in a way that was both visually impressive and minimally impactful. Truly, the current de Rolos lived up to their ancestors' ability to overcome adversity, as they had found a way not only to recover from their traumatic siege, but to flourish upon the once-blighted grounds.

The front doors of the mansion were at least two stories tall, although Jayce had little reference to compare them as even the Margrave's mansion, his only true experience with the living spaces of the elite, had been a utilitarian affair and had doubled as a military base of operations. In that way, stepping beyond the threshold of Castle de Rolo was akin to stepping into an entirely different world, where plush carpets softened his bootfalls and proudly painted, and in some cases clearly restored, portraits of previous de Rolos lined the hall that led to an impressive flight of stairs. The stairs rose three stories, ending in a platform brightly lit by the clear windows just beyond them, and upon the highest point were three figures, all of whom commanded attention at their silhouette alone.

The first, on the far left, was a slender woman of immaculate poise. Her white-streaked hair was neatly curled into a meticulous braided bun that refused to let a single stray hair escape, and her eyes were just as imposing. Even at the far distance between them, Jayce could feel her eyes raking over his form, searching for any sort of flaw or imperfection that may betray him as someone untrustworthy, or simply unworthy of her time. The sunlight bled the color from her form, making her long gown seemed black, as if in mourning, but as she descended to just a few steps above them, he came to realize she was simply in a dark navy blue which seemed to be the cardinal color of the de Rolos immortalized in paint around them.

Behind her, respectfully two steps back, were the other two figures, a man and a woman. The man had shockingly white hair, his eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles that sported additional, seemingly useless lenses on the outer corners of the main glasses. His widely-lapelled coat was immaculate, although the waistcoat pocket sported not a pocketwatch, but a small smattering of finesse tools, of which Jayce only recognized the screwdriver. Despite his clearly wizened age, he stood with confidence, and his limbs filled his coat and clothes with muscle that had not diminished much over the years. Jayce could easily envision the man as a traveling adventurer, although he was at a loss to determine exactly which weapon the man had favored.

The woman at his side brought no such ambiguity. While she had been dressed in a similar color to that of the first woman who led the procession, upon her back was a familiar bow, a twisted arch of vines that they had seen when she first appeared at the wall of Whitestone. She also opted for a pants suit instead of a dress, in a similar style to the bespeckled man next to her, that proved her armor she wore just that morning was not the reason she had held such a commanding presence. Her limbs moved with power and a fluid grace that could only be achieved by great warriors through years of trial.

Clearly, this was Lady Vex'ahlia, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt.

Sen stepped forward, bowed to the nobles, and spoke clearly; "My Lady Cassandra and her court, I present to you the ones who came to my aid in the early hours of the morning, the Ceylon Seven." Upon being announced, the group all bowed, with a gentle tug on Dahlia's arm from Jayce to help her understand what was expected of them in that moment. Sen stepped to the side to allow the Ceylon Seven to take center stage, and stood with his hands behind his back as if well versed in the current proceedings.

Lady Cassandra, her posture perfect, nodded slightly toward them. "Welcome, adventurers. Allow me to personally thank you for your rapid involvement and assistance with the matters of Whitestone. While I have only just been brought up to speed on current events, we take residuum theft seriously, and thus your reward will reflect that generously."

Jayce, as he expected to once again be the voice of the group, opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could slip past his lips, Jonathan stepped forward and spoke with the confidence of an orator.

"It was our absolute honor to come to the aid of Whitestone, Lord and Ladies de Rolo," Jonathan said proudly. With a hand placed on his heart, he bowed his head. "We await your generosity with the knowledge that you are keepers of your word."

Sen, with a look of disbelief, sighed and rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. If he was worried about his faux-pas that morning, Jonathan had just made a much bigger one.

With a smirk of amusement, Lord Percival de Rolo cleared his throat to gently grab everyone's attention. "Sir, as you are likely aware, I am Lord Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, but I am here in name only. Please speak to the heads of household, Lady Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo, the Matron and Wisdom of Whitestone, and Lady Vex'ahlia de Rolo, First Baroness of Whitestone, Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt, and Coinmistress to the Tal'Dorei Council. As you can see, their pedigrees are far more impressive than mine."

"Brother, behave!" Lady Cassandra hissed over her shoulder. "You insisted on coming!"

Lord Percival and Lady Vex'ahlia shared a knowing glance and a smile, but they swallowed any snarky comment they may have had in mind as Lady Cassandra cleared her throat to address the group once more.

Jayce, in an attempt to head off any other mistaken identities, grabbed Jonathan's arm as subtly as he could and, less subtly, pulled him back from the front of the group. He bowed once more, although not as deeply as during the initial introduction, and mimicked Jonathan's hand on his heart as he spoke, intentionally tamping down his accent. "Lady de Rolo, I apologize for my companion. We are plagued with naivete when it comes to the customs of Whitestone, but your fair and beautiful city has us wanting to learn. Please be patient with us."

Lady Cassandra took a brief moment to look Jayce over, sizing him up against whatever measure she had in mind. Finding him worthy, she nodded toward him as he stood up straight. "Thank you for your kind words, sir. Would you introduce us to your companions, and yourself?"

Jayce nodded back. "Of course, my lady. We are, as Sir-" And Jayce faltered. What was Sen's full name again? It wouldn't be a good impression if he only used Sen's nickname, so he quickly racked his brain as the seconds seemed to slip away faster and faster under Lady Cassandra's steel grey gaze. It had to be in there! What did he say when he first introduced himself?

A moment of inspiration struck him and the name snapped back to the front of his mind in full clarity, as well as the opportunity to add some prestigious titles of his own. "As Sir Sendori Ruasar Nind Vel'uss Yewl Hermet, the Undying Gunslinger, previous leader of the Heralds of the Storm, assistant to Lord Vax'ildan, introduced us earlier, we are the Ceylon Seven, comprised of Lady Dahlia of the Dawn, the Blind Surgeon and Cleric of Pelor, Jonathan Riddle, Wizard of Westruun, Zoe Riddle, Fleet of Foot and Fist, the beautiful Bera Brewpack, Songsmith and Traveling Poet, Gautha-"

"And Gauth, Al, and Jayce," Al snapped, pointing to the final members of the team. "Just get it out of your mouth and be done with it already!"

Jayce curled his lip and bit it before he snapped back with a far less patient comment, but more to annoy Al than to actually finish the introductions, he turned to Jonathan, who had just picked up Puffpaw from where she stood by his feet. "And finally, our eighth member, the Lady Puffpaw, our team mascot and Jonathan's familiar."

Puffpaw gave a slow blink of approval and purred.

Lord Percival chuckled at the display and turned to his wife, and from the look on his face he was hardly surprised to see her distracted and struggling to shape symbols and signs with her hands. Lady Vex'ahlia, her gaze decidedly in Sen's direction, was one of frustration as she made increasingly less subtle attempts at silent conversation in the poor confused drow's direction.

So "subtle" were these attempts that Lady Cassandra, who technically had her back to the whole display, sighed and turned to her sister-in-law in annoyance. After a few more seconds of Lady Vex'ahlia emphatically flailing through sign language, Lady Cassandra cleared her throat and lifted an eyebrow that clearly indicated she was waiting for an explanation.

Lady Vex'ahlia rolled her eyes and pointedly looked toward Sen. "Do you think they can help with the Briarwood problem?"

Lord Percival looked shocked and ever so briefly faltered. "Love, that's not something-"

Lady Vex'ahlia gently pressed a finger to her husband's lips. "Let him speak, darling. Then you. This is important."

With a clear look of discomfort, one mirrored by his sister, Lord Percival turned to Sen, who still stood off to the side and looked somewhat flustered by the sudden attention.

Taking a breath to recenter himself, Sen turned his body to better face his superiors and stated clearly, "My Lady Vex'ahlia, apologies for being difficult, regardless if it was unintentional. Yes, I do believe this team can help you with this problem. They are well organized and have solid experience from what I've seen." There was a slight pause before Sen added quickly, "However, I do have one request regarding this."

Lady Vex'ahlia nodded. "Name it."

With a fist to his chest to salute his matron, Sen stated, "I would like to be named your representative for this task. Your family was nothing but generous and kind to me even when your people were not. Allow me this chance to repay that kindness with my loyalty." Sen finished his request with a bow to show his devotion to it.

Lord Percival looked relieved and Lady Vex'ahlia peeked briefly at her husband before she answered. "Done. Now, the rest of you, you must learn the history of Whitestone before we ask anything else of you. What do you know of Whitestone's history involving the Briarwoods?"

Jayce looked across the faces of his companions. Dahlia looked as if she could answer, but was clearly anxious at the idea of doing so. Bera, on the other hand, caught his eye, nodded, and stepped forward.

"My ladies, as you are likely aware, I am a bard by trade. We banter and barter in gossip, rumors, tales, and legends, and as such, what I know is simply a tale. Please correct me on any mistake I may make, as I will recount to you only what I know."

Bera launched into the tale of the Briarwoods, a story that had once fascinated her as a ghost story, but one she now knew held truth in its words. Lady Delilah Briarwood and Lord Cyrus Briarwood were once nobles of esteem, no different than the elite of any city, save for their passionate and complete love and devotion to one another. It was this love that proved their undoing, as when Lord Cyrus fell to illness at a young age, Lady Delilah fell to madness seeking a cure to save him.

Her mania led her to a hidden repository of The Whispered One, a lich that fancied godhood, and Lady Delilah made a pact that bound both their souls to his service. Cyrus rose as a vampire, immortal and perfect, and Delilah became a necromancer of terrifying ability, matched only in level by her cold beauty. The Whispered One bade them to repay the debt by seeking out a terrible altar hidden beneath Whitestone, and to do so, they manipulated, lied, and beguiled everyone they met to eventually find themselves within the walls of Castle de Rolo.

Bera faltered in her retelling of the tale, her voice stolen as she saw the faces of Lord Percival and Lady Cassandra. Both were haunted by memories of that night, their eyes distant as they saw not what was before them, but what decades had left behind. As a mercy, Bera simply stated the next part of the story as the "death of the de Rolos", neglecting all detail as Lady Cassandra shuddered and turned away, suppressed tears choking her breath.

"The tales from here vary greatly, but I will recount what I am most familiar with," Bera quickly added. "It is said that Lord Percival managed to escape the Briarwoods and their undead hordes, suffering great injury to be presumed dead, and witnessing the death of his sister, Cassandra. Five years of building fury led to a vengeance terrible and absolute, one that nearly destroyed him when finally enacted upon his targets. Of course, there was much celebration when it was learned that Lady Cassandra had, in fact, survived, and many legends persist to this day of your restoration of this great and noble city."

"You have erred much, Miss Bera," Lord Percival said quietly. He stepped forward and held his sister, both in that moment finally looking their age in their silver years, before he passed her to his wife and stood before them all.

"There was no celebration when the Briarwoods fell to our efforts, and make no mistake, it was not my ability alone that defeated them. Many, many good men and women died in the rebellion, those I knew by name and those I knew in passing, for our freedom to be snatched from their claws. Lady Cassandra was their prisoner, but in the same way I was also a prisoner to a demon of vengeance; our limbs were free, but our minds were chained, doomed to follow the commands of whispered voices that demanded obedience and devotion. It was only upon the death of Cyrus and Delilah that our own freedom was even a possibility, and even then, I nearly succumbed to the darkness that poisoned my heart."

Lady Vex'ahlia stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder, her face filled with concern and compassion, even as she continued to hold Lady Cassandra to her chest. With the reminder that his closest companion still stood by his side, Lord Percival smiled softly and nodded his assurance that he would be alright, and then turned back to the group.

"There is no true tale in which the horrors of war vanish in the moment of victory. Remember that."

Humbled, Bera nodded and stepped back, her recounting complete. She desperately wished she could write every correction in her journal while the memory was still fresh, but she worried such an act would be considered rude in front of the nobles. Her experience with nobility was limited, but even she knew that acting with decorum was a far safer option than simply following her whims like she could in more equal company.

Lady Cassandra recovered, breathed deeply to center herself, and turned back to the Ceylon Seven assembled there. "It is here that your youth is a mark against you; you do not know the terror and horror that had plagued Whitestone while in their thrall. Even today, a generation and more hence, wayward citizens trust this rod more than the carrot we offer, and practice necromantic arts in secret." She paused once more to steady herself and then continued. "Based on the interrogation of the traitorous Grey Hunter, we believe this is yet again the case."

At this pause, Sen's old habits of leading a group took over and he stepped forward to speak. "My lady, was there anything else the traitor mentioned? A base or location where they would meet, for example?"

Lady Vex'ahlia shook her head and spoke for her sister-in-law. "No, but I was able to learn more about the Grey Hunter. Prior to her joining the order, she had a younger sister, but when I sent runners to find this family in the city, we could find no trace. I fear the worst for her, and I will not ignore the possibility that one of my own Hunters was forced into this arrangement."

At the mention of the possibly kidnapped young woman, Jayce's mind was filled with the memories of the prisoners in the Margrave's Keep, specifically the state in which he found Dahlia after just a few days in their clutches. "That sounds more'n likely, my Lady," he said confidently. "We will take the utmost care to look for this young woman, an' any other hostages while on the mission."

Lady Vex'ahlia nodded her approval. "I would expect no less from any group with Sendori's approval."

Sen nodded, trying to hide his pride at Vex'halia's praise. "We shall look into this. Would it be possible to speak to the Hunter or look at the map I gave you?"

Lady Vex'ahlia smiled at Sen. "Of course. You may do both."

Sen bowed politely. "Thank you, my lady." With a side glance to the group, particularly at Jayce, Sen added, "I would like to make one more request, if I may do so."

Lady Vex'ahlia nearly failed to suppress rolling her eyes and looked directly at Sen. "You may, but you're beginning to test my patience."

Sen looked slightly panicked for a second, but he steeled his gaze and spoke clearly. "I understand, my lady. I would just like to ask for a day so we can properly recover from the night's events and educate ourselves on this enemy. We will do our best when we are prepared for this task."

Lady Vex'ahlia huffed in frustration and crossed her arms. "While that isn't ideal, that is fair. Keep in mind, the longer this sits, the more convoluted it's bound to become."

Jayce quickly jumped in to help diffuse the tension. "Completely understand, ma'am. Just, speakin' from experience-" Jayce pointed to his face, which still sported the discoloring of a bruise, "-I'd rather face a magic user as my best self, an' we're all on barely hours of sleep."

"Ah. That's right, dear. Everything happened this very early morning," Lord Percival whispered to his wife.

Lady Vex'ahlia sighed in defeat. "That is fair. It wouldn't do us any good if you all collapsed from exhaustion before you found the threat."

Sen smiled with contentment and asked, "Is there anything my lady or my matron would wish to ask of us at this time?"

"I actually have inquiries for the Ceylon Seven," Lady Cassandra said, now that she had sufficiently recovered from the recounting of her worst traumas. "I have not forgotten the reward we owe you for your work, and should you be registered or associated with any guilds, we will speak to them on your behalf."

As Jayce had been the one to register their group with the Tal'Dorein Defenders, he answered every question to the best of his ability, which included the more recent name change. He did explain the mishap, as well as his hope that the error could be corrected expediently. Thankfully, Lady Cassandra was more amused than mistrusting, and still promised to write a letter of recommendation for their dossier at the guild.

Jonathan, ecstatic at the turn of events and the notion of continued favor with the de Rolos, nearly missed the coin that was passed out to his team. A decent one-hundred-fifty gold per head among them (with the exception of Puffpaw, who was only minorly insulted), was passed to them by Lady Vex'ahlia herself. Johnathan almost dropped the coins trying to think of something to say to the lady before him, but she moved on to the next hand faster than his mind could think at the moment. After the customary 10% was passed to Jayce for the party funds, they each had a sizable payment for a night's work at the behest of the de Rolo family.

"Consider this a retaining fee, a promise that more will come for your expected work tracking down the threat that had reared its head this dark morning," Lady Cassandra explained. "Spend your day of rest well, and tomorrow you shall be escorted to the prisoners for your own interrogation, and our own notes will be shared."

Jayce bowed in respect, his hand to his heart again as he had noticed both Jonathan and Sen had done while talking to the de Rolos. "Thank you kindly, my lady. We look forward to our continued partnership."

Summarily dismissed from the de Rolos' home, the Ceylon Seven were escorted from the grounds, with Sen jogging up from behind as he had a genial and quickly whispered conversation with Lord Percival before they left. Back on the city streets, Castle Whitestone looming over them to the north, Zoe turned to the group and held up a finger to pause while she suppressed a yawn.

"Ugh. Tired. So! As I understand it, we come back here before we head out?" she asked.

Al nodded, the lack of sleep from last night also beginning to creep up on him. "Right. Then we'll get the location, any access to the interrogation notes and/or prisoners, and all that. We're pretty much independent from there."

Jonathan cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, his head framed by Puffpaw across his shoulders. "I do want to say, I appreciate that you're all willing to share your expertise with adventuring. I know my sister and I have little experience in all of this, but you've taken good care of us, and I hope we're returning the favor with our skill."

Al shrugged. "Way I see it, it's easier to survive if we're all on the same page, and you do pull your weight, so that's something."

"And, Al, we were all idiots once," Gauth added with a mischievous grin.

Al instantly knew the moment Gauth was referencing and winced in embarrassment. The second Gauth noticed Al had recognized the reference, the goliath burst out laughing at the memory and prompted curious looks from all assembled.

While Sen was curious about the story, his pocketwatch confirmed he was indeed late for work, as he knew he would be since this meeting and his job started at the same time. Turning to the group, he said, "Alright everyone! While this was fun, I do need to get to work now. If you need me, I'll be at the college, the de Rolo lab. Meet back here tomorrow?"

"Until tomorrow," Jayce said brightly with a smile. As Sen left to head to his work with a wave goodbye, Jayce immediately whirled on Al and pointed at him. "And Al, don't you fuckin' bail! You are duty bound to tell us this story now!"

Al presented two middle-finger salutes and snapped, "You gotta catch me first, asshole!" before he darted away down the street.

For this, Gauth was prepared. Far louder than was necessary, Gauth yelled out, "Or I could tell the story!"

On cue, Al came dashing back, screaming, "Gauth you asshole don't you fucking dare!" so quickly the sentence seemed nearly one word, to which the others shared in Gauth's laughter.

"So, should I tell, or should you tell?" Gauth asked Al, who silently fumed at his side as the group walked back into the main streets of Whitestone.

"I'll tell the fucking story, you…gods-damn it there's got to be a better insult than 'asshole'," Al hissed.

"Oh! Oh! Jayce, go!" Zoe chirped, practically bouncing in her excitement.

Jayce chuckled and barely gave it any thought. "Toady bat-fowling imbecile?"

"Ooo that's mean," Zoe giggled.

Jayce shrugged. "Bit much for Gauth, though. Probably more appropriate for Al."

"Ouch," Jonathan snickered.

"Ha ha, bastards," Al grunted. "Fine. You want this fucking story? You got this fucking story. So, back in Emon-"

Al launched into the tale of his first job under the employment of Yoxsim, the gnome wizard who had extorted Al's expertise by stealing Al's locket, although he described the object simply as "something precious." So complete was Al's anger at Yoxsim, exacerbated by his more recent annoyance at his friend, that his tale was completely derailed in favor of a rant against the miniscule mage.

With much prodding from Gauth, Al finally went into the true body of the story; Al had been hired because of his infiltration skills as a penny-weighter, a thief who specialized in replacing artifacts and art with high-quality fakes, so the originals were never missed. Unfortunately, Yoxsim's requested job was not about replacing objects so much as they were about placing new things about a noble's home. The gnome mage had an array of magical stones that had to be exactly placed within walls, furniture, and the like, so that a client could spy upon the occupant at their leisure.

"Sounds like a massive invasion of privacy," Jonathan interrupted, his lip curled in disgust.

"I. Am. A. Rogue. I get paid for work, and I do it. Do I fucking care about laws?!" Al snapped.

"More story!" Gauth prodded, his voice tinged with a suppressed giggle as he poked Al in the head.

"Anyway," Al growled, batting away Gauth's further attempts to encourage him, "the asshole had written out a map of the floorplan, with X marking the location of the stones, including a number of feet in height. Some of them required I literally climb the curtains to carve out holes in the fucking ceiling. So, there I am, hanging off the chandelier in the man's bedroom, when he stumbles in, drunk as a fish swimming in brandy."

"Oh no!" Bera giggled. "Did you get caught?"

Al sighed in defeat and hung his head. "Yes."

"And how did you get out?" Gauth teased, his comment emphasized with an additional poke into Al's side.

Al rolled his eyes. "He looked up, said 'what the hell are you doing up there?', no panic or anything, so I blurted out that I was a nightmare fairy and I was collecting his bad dreams caught in the cobwebs between the candles."

"You what?!" Bera gasped, her words barely audible beyond Zoe's burst of laughter and everyone else's sputtering of giggles.

"I panicked, okay?! I don't usually have to deal with nobles in their own homes because I focus on slipping into the ranks of the servants! I'm not usually hanging from the fucking ceiling dressed like this! " Al yelled as he indicated his nearly-completely-black clothing.

"A nightmare fairy?!" Jayce wheezed, his stomach aching from the suppressed guffaw that threatened to burst out. "The fuck happen next?"

Al huffed and crossed his arms as they walked. "He said, 'Oh. Thanks,' and passed out on his bed. That's it."

"No, it's not," Gauth snickered.

Al shot Gauth a glare that threatened to stab him from the sharpness of his anger alone, but Gauth only laughed in response.

"How is there more to this?" Bera giggled.

"His escape," Gauth smiled.

"Gods-damn you, you bastard," Al mumbled. "Fine. Escape. I hopped down, ducked out the window, and ran. That's it."

"Liar," Gauth giggled. "I will tell the story-!"

"No! Fine! I didn't go out the window!" Al yelled. "I ducked out the door because I was so panicked I forgot I wasn't in disguise, and I bumped directly into the noble's mistress!"

"Oh no!" Zoe wheezed. "How'd you get out?"

"Thankfully, she was so drunk she also couldn't see straight," Al said quickly. "So she thought I was her lover. I tossed her back in the room-"

"And stole her clothes and ran out!" Gauth laughed.

Nearly everyone in the group burst out in gleeful mirth, although Dahlia and, understandably, Al abstained. Dahlia did giggle, but Al seemed so upset that she didn't have the heart to laugh out loud at his expense.

Al, his face red from embarrassment, glared at them all while they continued to walk toward Dawn's Square, in the center of town. It did nothing to dissuade their joy, but the laughter did briefly pause when Jonathan asked how Gauth came to know of the disastrous escapade.

Gauth, with a broad smile, shrugged in response. "He showed up in a dress and I got him drunk and asked him why. He told me everything."

"I hate you," Al grumbled.

"Seem's Al's got a habit of gettin' loose-lipped around alcohol," Jayce giggled. "Loose with his coin, too."

"That's it! I'm never drinking another drop of alcohol around any of you bastards!" Al snapped.

"Suit yerself," Jayce laughed before anyone else could cut in. "More for me!"

The avenue they walked widened past the most recent corner, a main thoroughfare of the city that had begun to slowly wake with the movement of the residents of the city. Familiar horse-drawn carts and buggies shared the road with strange contraptions, machines that glittered with the strange green glow of powered residuum as they rolled on tall wheels of brass. Upon seeing them, Zoe nearly jumped with glee and excitedly began rambling about the make and design of the mechanical carriages, of which their route through the more affluent end of Whitestone gave them a plethora of examples. Once she was reminded of the various advancements of Whitestone, Dahlia paused briefly and held her newly-gloved hand just above the stones, and smiled as she felt a slight updraft of warmth caress her bare fingertips.

"Everyone, the street really is warm!" Dahlia said with a smile as she stood up, her ears cocked toward the direction she had assumed they walked…but there was no response. No familiar voices returned her call, and upon realizing they had likely moved beyond her immediate vicinity, her heart began to pound in her chest.

"Guys? Jayce?" she called out, her mind struggling to drown out all other noise in her panic. She had to listen for them. "Jayce!?" she called louder, her heart pounding so hard it threatened to overpower any sound she may have otherwise heard. She strained her ears, concentrating with all her attention as her chest began to ache with anxious pain. She heard nothing, no familiar voices call back.

What happened? Why hadn't they noticed she was gone?

"Get out of the road, you imbecile!"

Dahlia threw herself forward, fear launching her feet in whatever direction she happened to be facing. A loud mechanical creature clanked and screeched and ground inches behind her, and an anemic breeze wafted past her from the construct's size alone. Its rider continued to swear and shout in her direction, bringing into question the soundness of her mental faculties, and in response, her own mind began to echo the sentiments.

She lost her own friends, and they didn't even notice. Why was she surprised? She was dead weight, after all; Blind and nearly useless in a fight, she was nearly always literally dragged along by Jayce, just to traverse a street. She was even carried into battle, as she couldn't walk on her own! Why would they even want her back? She should-

"No!" she yelled, her hands over her ears. "No, that's not right! It's not. I'm… I saved Sen's life, I healed their wounds, I…" she whispered. Another voice was in her mind. One initially alien to her, but familiar in its timber. Finally, in her mind, she heard her own voice, and while it was quiet, it reminded her of what was truly important in that moment.

"Edges, find the edges, then find a place where they can find me," she huffed. Dahlia struggled to her feet, her mind reeling from the ambush in her own thoughts, but she clenched her teeth in determination and breathed deeply through her nose to steady herself.

"Seems the medicine is finally kicking in," she mumbled. "I better thank Bera later."

The swell and sway of the voices, sounds, noises around her finally began to build the world around her, soft shapes manifesting in the imaginary map she used to make her way through the city. Disoriented from the panicked leap, she was unsure which direction they had been heading previously, when she lost her group. Not even the sun was present, with its directional warmth hidden behind the deep clouds of the overcast morning. There had to be something to follow, anything to take her to the edge of the street where she could ground herself.

Bong. Bong. Bong-

A massive clock began to chime the hour, and Dahlia thought on it quickly. It was now nine in the morning, and with six more loud clangs from hidden bells, she rushed toward it before she lost the direction of the sound. Such a loud bell would be part of a clocktower, a landmark in the city, and with its accompanying tintinnabulation, she hoped her friends would also hear it and realize that she would head in such a direction.

Her darker thoughts threatened her again, but with effort, she pushed them back down. She breathed deeply to settle herself and continued to walk. Even with her new strength, afforded by a nightly sip of medicated honeyjack, the doubts never left her, but she refused to let them guide her. At the very least, if her friends never returned for her, then she would know for sure if she was truly just dead weight.

xXxXx

"You lost her?!"

The last two clangs of massive bells tolling the hour nearly drowned out Jonathan's voice as Jayce whirled on the mage. "You think I'm her keeper?! She's her own fuckin' woman, goddamnit! She ain't attached to my hip unless she asks me first! I ain't assumin' shit!"

Jonathan's face started to tinge red as his anger began to boil. "It's a crowded, loud city, full of people and dangers-!"

"Hey! Stop!" Zoe yelped as she literally shoved herself between the two of them. "What the hell, guys?! We need to find Dahlia, not scream at each other!"

"As much as I hate to admit it," Al grumbled, "we do need her, so there's no time to waste. We should split up. It's literally been, what, minutes? She can't have gone far. Two teams, head out in an angle like this-" Al held out his hands in a roughly 45-degree angle back the way they had come. "-and start getting loud. We know she's got incredible hearing, so she'll hear us and come running."

Bera nodded. "I could play something, and I can project my voice pretty loud."

"Good idea. Teams. Gauth, Jayce, Bera, you go that way. Jonathan, Zoe, you two head with me." Al landed a hand on each siblings' shoulder and looked at the others. "Any objections?"

Jonathan felt an alien sensation prickle across his skin, despite the fact that Al's hand had both Jonathan's coat and shirt between it and his shoulder. Instinctively, he glanced toward Al, who thankfully had given his full attention to Zoe on his other side. Jonathan felt his face go hot, despite the chill in the autumn air, and turned away, glad his blush hadn't been seen.

Why was his heart fluttering? Why did his skin react in such a way? Why did he seem to like it?

He winced and tried to steady himself with a subtle breath. There was no time for this strange, primal feeling welling up inside him. He had already decided to woo Dahlia, and he would not fail to do so. It was only a matter of time.

"Just because we've grown up nobles doesn't mean we paid attention!" Zoe snapped.

"Sorry, what?" Jonathan asked, genuinely confused.

The irony was too much to ignore and, despite the tension, the team spat out a few surprised giggles as Jonathan floundered in embarrassment. Al rolled his eyes and turned to the wizard at his side.

"Nobles go through pretentious classes, like oration and shit. So, you're on my team to project your voice like Bera, and hopefully we can get her attention. If not, I've got a bell, and while it's not ideal in a crowd, it's loud."

This time Zoe rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in a huff, but with Jonathan fully willing to agree, there was no room to argue. With a plan in place, the two teams split and began to trek back into the crowds behind them. Zoe hitched her step just enough to delay her pace, and fell into step next to her brother.

"I saw that," she teased, just before she turned and bellowed out Dahlia's name with enough volume to startle Al into almost tripping over his feet. The result was just as she intended; Al was further annoyed, and jogged ahead a few more steps to gather some space between him and the next impressive application of vocal acuity.

"Saw what?" Jonathan said with a wince. He couldn't look his sister in the eye. He already knew, but denial was a powerfully attractive option at the time.

Zoe bellowed out another attempt at Dahlia's name before she turned back to her brother. "Jon! The blush! You. Like. Al!"

"How could I like such an abrasive excuse for a humanoid being?!" Jonathan hissed under his breath. "He's rude, compulsive, and annoying!"

"Okay fine, but you like men," Zoe said with a smirk. "Al just happens to be a convenient stand in."

"If I like men, why am I not attracted to Jayce or Gauth?" Jonathan snapped back with a glare. Al glanced over his shoulder at the two of them, so Jonathan immediately broke the intense look with a turn and shout for Dahlia, albeit at a less impressive volume than his sister.

"I don't know, have you ever had either Jayce or Gauth jump to your defense and fend off a terrifying creature? Oh! Experiment!" Zoe paused briefly to call out Dahlia's name, then returned to watch her brother's increasingly uncomfortable visage as she spoke. "Imagine, if you will, Jayce. Standing there, sword in hand, shirtless, and human instead of-"

"Stop! Please stop!" Jonathan yelped. He grabbed the hood of his coat and yanked it over his head, his knuckles pressed into his eyes as he tried to force the image from his head. It was no secret that Jayce, whom he had never seen topless before, filled out his shirt and coat quite well. It was not hard to imagine the shoulders and chest of a well-built, dexterous man underneath those clothes, and the image was causing his heart to skip. He very much did not like the idea of being attracted to Jayce.

Thankfully, Jayce was actually green, and that made the mental image somewhat easier to ignore…but not by much.

"Are you serious right now?!" Jonathan hissed at his sister. "You're asking me to fantasize about a pathological liar who literally has a demon eating away his soul! What the hell, Zoe?!"

"He's hot though," Zoe grinned. "Meh, by some standards, anyway. I prefer softer bodies," she added with a wink.

"You. Are. Incorrigible," Jonathan whimpered in defeat.

"You love me," Zoe giggled.

"Hey! We haven't found Dahlia yet. Keep yelling!" Al called back.

Zoe and Jonathan, resigned to being human bullhorns, returned to yelling Dahlia's name at the top of their lungs for several long minutes as Al led them through the thickening crowds. At about the point Zoe became so frustrated with a lack of progress that she began implementing amusing voices for her shouts, Al suddenly motioned for them both to stop.

"What? Don't like squeaky mouse voice?" Zoe teased.

"No! Shush!" Al barked. Curious, the siblings quieted and listened to the air, where the typical sounds of crowds, the strange carriages, and music began to float past them.

Al had his ear tilted to the air, his eyes closed in concentration. Intrigued and impatient, Jonathan waited just long enough to note his sister was about to interrupt, and so politely cleared his throat instead.

"What are we listening for…?" Jonathan asked hesitantly as soon as he had Al's attention.

"The song! It's 'I Wish I Saved a Wish for Thee'!" Al yelped with excitement. "Dahlia knows, and more importantly, likes that song! She's blind, right? She'd move toward music, wouldn't she?"

"Holy shit, of course!" Zoe beamed, a fist smacked into her hand as she realized the point of Al's logic. "She can't see landmarks, so she'd listen for them!"

"Why are there even people playing on the streets this early?" Jonathan asked as he glanced around.

Al shrugged. "Hell if I know. Buskers, maybe?" Following Jonathan's gaze, Al also took in their surroundings, and nearly simultaneously, all three noticed the decorative banners and realized what was happening.

"Holy shit Civilization's Dawn is tomorrow!" Zoe and Jonathan yelped in unison. Prompted by the unintentional harmony, the siblings caught each other's gaze and immediately broke out into giggles, accented by Zoe's play punch into her brother's arm.

"This is not a good thing," Al hissed. "That means bigger crowds and more distractions, which makes it harder to find Dahlia, not easier. Fuck me…" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to split up. Keep yelling, and meet me in front of…that clock in an hour. Got it?"

The siblings followed Al's pointed finger towards a massive clocktower that loomed over the market square. Nearly ten stories tall and a marvel of architectural engineering, unlit stained glass facades served as backgrounds for mechanical characters, the visual history of Vox Machina on display for all to see. Its face was indeed a method of telling the hour, but upon its edge were beautiful details of the heavens that also marked the seasons, the phases of both Catha and Ruidis, and even the day of the year with surprisingly elegant design. Indeed, based on the date upon the lower rim of the clock face, Civilization's Dawn, the holy day of the Goddess Erathis, was the next day.

"Oh my gods oh my gods, Jon! Jon!" Zoe squealed, shaking her brother by the arm. "It's the clock! The clock!"

"Are you going to say everything twice?!" Jonathan warbled as he nearly lost his footing.

"No no I will I will not not," Zoe teased, perfectly aware of the double negatives in her statement.

Al rolled his eyes so hard he nearly made himself dizzy. He stepped between them and physically pushed the two siblings apart. "Would you two just go!? One hour. Be there."

"Fine, fine! We're going," Zoe mumbled. She happened to catch Jonathan's glance and mumbled, "We're going," a second time, prompting her brother to giggle, and a second shove from Al to finally get her to head out into the crowd.

Just as Jonathan turned to do the same, Al dropped his arm across Jonathan's shoulders and pulled him deeper into a different crowd, one that was already moving as they cleared space in the center for dancers to join in on the next song. Jonathan felt his shoulders instinctively tense and crawl up towards his ears, but with a gulp of determination, he managed to remain visibly calm.

"So, before you run off, I've got a few questions for you," Al whispered in his ear. It wasn't a particularly husky whisper, but due to the volume of the revelry around them, it was hardly quiet.

Jonathan felt his palms get cold and clammy, and so distracted himself by pulling out his new gloves to slip them on. "What do you want?" he asked as he tried his damnedest to look anywhere besides Al's face.

"A little bird told me you have a…an uncommon taste in partners," Al continued to whisper, his voice low and conspiratorial as he also looked around, but his target was for roving eyes and ears rather than a lost companion. The last thing he needed was to be discovered by an eavesdropping bigot with an early dose of liquid courage. "Is that true?"

Jonathan felt his face go hot with flustered embarrassment, but he was unable to tell if it was because of Al's proximity or accusation. Beside that point, how could he even answer such a vague question? While he was pretty sure that the statement had something to do with his recently discovered preferences, he barely understood his new feelings himself. His best chance was to deflect. "Who in the hell told you that?!" he gasped.

"You heard me," Al whispered harshly. "Now, is it true? Has your rather vocal pursuit of Dahlia been a ruse, or what?"

"There has been no ruse! I genuinely love her!" Jonathan shouted as he shoved Al off his shoulder. "How dare you assume otherwise? Do I need to drop to my knees and publicly declare all of her greatest features? Do I need to shout to the heavens about her lovely nature and purity? How dare you! And fuck you!"

"You're wooing a rock!" Al called out as Jonathan turned and shoved his way through the crowd. He had to get away from that damned rogue. "She doesn't see you or anyone that way! Not even Jayce!"

Jonathan felt a sharp pain through his heart, and a matching one through his skull. Puffpaw meowed loudly at his feet, as if begging him to catch his attention before anything went wrong, and Jonathan aggressively shook his head to try and regain his focus. He scooped up Puffpaw and almost shouldered people out of the way as he ran in whatever direction he could manage, their voices of shock and anger completely ignored as his mind screamed at him.

Al was wrong. He had seen through Puffpaw's eyes that Jayce had kissed Dahlia by the Sun Tree, and she let him. She definitely saw someone in a romantic way, and if it was going to be anyone, it should be himself. Of course, the distance was too great to see if they had truly touched lips or if the kiss was more platonic, but that wasn't important. Unlike Jayce, Jonathan wasn't some half-breed monster, possessed by a demon. He was clearly the better option. For Dahlia's sake, protection, and comfort, she couldn't choose Jayce, and all he had to do was show her that.

Al had to be wrong.

xXxXx

Jayce had nearly given up. Bera's plan to sing her original piece about Dahlia's triumph against the former Margrave of Westruun had backfired spectacularly, and had drawn a crowd so thick Gauth was stuck in the middle of the throngs of people with Bera perched on his shoulder. Intoxicated by the gleeful focus of pre-holiday crowds, Bera pointedly ignored Jayce's emphatic attempts to grab her attention by letting him wave his arms on the edge of the thick swarm of humanoids like a fool for a full stanza of her song.

Fortunately, Gauth, despite being stuck in a mob of much shorter beings, had some sense, and managed to wordlessly motion to meet up by the largest building he could see; the Grand Clocktower of Whitestone, on the edge of the square where they now found themselves. Jayce, who already had to struggle to see over the crowd, did his best to communicate that he understood with a thumbs-up before he headed out.

Frustrated and annoyed, Jayce rubbed both hands into his face as he walked away, disappointed in Bera's behavior. It was bad enough that she was acting irresponsibly, but Gauth had gotten roped up in her actions simply by way of being a convenient stepladder. The poor guy deserved better.

It was at that moment that a familiar smell wafted by Jayce as he slowly picked his way through the crowds. It was familiar in its components, but not in its composition; he could clearly pick out fry oil, fragrant cheese, and something sweet and acidic as he made his way over to a remarkably busy cart by the side of the road. What they combined to be was beyond him, but due to his recent frustrations, he figured he deserved a treat. After all, what better to assuage annoyances than deep fried street food?

Thankfully, the woman in front of him in line was more than willing to extoll the virtues of the fried treats at the cart as they waited. Jayce became increasingly excited for the food as he learned they were balls of shredded cheese, bound together by a batter fortified with garlic and other spices that were too subtle to identify. This was formed and deep fried with practiced speed in front of the customers, and then served in simple paper boats after being adorned with ribbons of a tangy barbeque sauce and spicy mustard.

Thus informed, Jayce politely declined the addition of the mustard and stepped away from the cart with a giddy grin on his face, his delectable prize gently steaming in his hands. Due to its freshness, the heat was far too intense to pop an entire cheese ball into his mouth at once, despite his temptation, so he nibbled at the crunchy outsides as he wandered the grounds. While the texture reminded him of the loukoumades from Westruun, the flavor was everything but sweet; savory, rich, and tangy from the sauce, it was a wonderful balance of sensations that filled him with warmth and contentment.

"Gods damn, nothin' beats street food," Jayce beamed as he worked through the entirety of the fried treat. Three others remained in the paper boat, still steaming in the chilled air of autumn, and he briefly considered saving them for Dahlia once she was found. In the space of a moment, the taste still on his tongue, he decided against it; he would get her fresh fried curds, rather than risk giving her something cold. Fried food was best fresh, after all.

Distractions amounted aplenty around him, despite the holiday being on the morrow instead of that morning. Excited citizens of all shapes and sizes bustled from stall to stall in the pop-up market, animatedly chatting about trinkets and baubles that wouldn't normally cross their minds. Of course, vendors eager to capitalize on the high spirits of the holiday were more than willing to haggle in their favor, a frustration for the common patron that was ignored due to the elation of the upcoming event. Nearby, a small group of children danced to a particularly lively song by a trio of bards upon a crate and board stage, and Jayce paused, a steaming fried cheese ball nearly in his mouth, as he suddenly realized who else was in the dancing group.

Dahlia, her hands clasped in those of a familiar young blond girl, was twirling to the song with a beautiful smile on her face.

A whirlwind rush of relief and excitement forced him to forget the steaming fried ball in his hand, but his habits, unfortunately, did not. A victim of the maritime law to never waste food, Jayce's cry of Dahlia's name choked and died in his throat as his mouth was assaulted by the still shockingly hot oil trapped within the craigs of the fried treat. Again, habit took charge and rather than spit out the offending treat, he crunched down on the fried ball of cheese, and it exploded into an intense sensation of heat and pain.

Spurred on by his folly, Jayce bolted through the crowds toward the children, his muffled cries for Dahlia barely audible over the joyous music in the streets. Thankfully, even through his pain, he remembered her aversion to unexpected touch and skid to a stop on his heel just inches from the edge of the break in the crowd. Now with a moment to himself, he gasped and panted, waving cold air into his mouth as far more obvious than usual steam escaped with his breath.

"Mr. Green! Mr. Green!" Cindy's voice chirped with glee. "Miss Dahlia, it's your friend!"

Jayce looked up just in time for Dahlia to reach him, her left hand patting his shoulder and up to his neck as Cindy still held her right. He almost held his breath, his cheeks flushed with heat as her fingers brushed his jaw and lips, where she paused upon his scar.

"Hey," Jayce said with a nervous smile.

"Oh Dawn's light it is you!" she gasped. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed, her body relieved like a spring finally spared of tension. Cindy, at Jayce's hip, cheered and hopped as she pumped a victorious fist into the air.

"I'm gonna tell my uncles and Aunt Shimmer!" Cindy beamed. She immediately turned and raced off, squealing, "Stay right there!" as she dashed across the dance area.

Jayce wrapped his arms around Dahlia, his own relief escaping as a sigh as he settled into the hug and gave her a gentle squeeze in return. "Dahlia, when you fuckin' disappeared, I thought-"

His voice caught in his throat when Dahlia giggled into his shoulder, and he pulled back just enough to twist his head to look at her. "'Scuse me? What's so funny?" he asked, a smile creeping into his own voice.

"I just…Well, Cindy called you 'Mr. Green', and when I thought about it, I just realized you got me this coat so we could match. I just…really like that idea," Dahlia whispered into his collar. "You're my best friend, and I like knowing that other people can see that, even if I can't."

Jayce's heart fluttered in his chest. What should he even say to that? Was that the confession he wanted to hear? Or was it nothing more than the confirmation that she would not judge him as his fears wanted to believe? His mind raced. What was the safe option?

"So, I'm your best friend now?" Jayce chuckled, his nervousness swallowed back through more effort than he cared to admit.

"You have been for months," Dahlia said with a smile. She also pulled back, not enough to escape the hug, but enough to match his gaze, as best as she was able. "I've met no one who makes me laugh or as happy as you, and…" She paused just long enough to take a deep breath and settle herself. "-and our last conversation was said in frustration. I'm so sorry for those words," she said with quiet conviction. She took another breath to steady herself before she continued. "I am truly flattered by your confession, and my fear is why I am not ready to properly respond. I have affection for you, that will always be true, but I can't describe it as love in the way you expect. Until I have come to terms with what I feel, I will have no answer for you, but please, don't hold yourself back for my sake."

Dahlia stepped back, fully out of the hug this time, and placed a hand on her heart. "Jayce, you are a wonderful, funny, kind, and gentle person who deserves all the happiness in the world. If my hesitation takes too long, don't starve your heart for affection. Please, should you find someone willing to return your love with the passion you want, don't hesitate like I do."

Jayce's heart was pounding so hard he was nearly worried it would burst. She liked him, green skin and all. Perhaps it wasn't love just yet, but there was no denying she held no ill will against him for his confession. That in itself was a relief, and the rest uplifted his soul.

Emboldened, he gently took her free hand in his own and held it tenderly. "If it's all the same, ma'am, I think I'd rather wait," he said with a tender smile.

"Oh wow, that takes me back," Dahlia giggled. "Use my name, Jayce!"

Jayce laughed. "But it made me sound all suave an' classy!"

"See? See? It's Mr. Green!" Cindy's voice chirped. She had returned, almost dragging Shimmer behind her in her excitement, in the lead of a small parade of familiar faces. Shimmer, Cad, Benjamin, and Ashley (who was still in Cad's arms) all arrived with broad smiles on their faces.

"Jon! Good to see you again!" Shimmer beamed, her hand out for a shake. Jayce took it gladly and returned the smile, completely oblivious to the small cloud of dust that puffed from the contact of the enthusiastic shake.

"Jayce, ma'am. Jon's the other guy," Jayce laughed.

Shimmer grimaced. "Oh dammit. I couldn't-"

"Gippy jar!" Cindy chirped, her face the picture of innocent seriousness.

"-Remember," Shimmer giggled. She turned to Cindy at her hip. "Sorry, sweetie. I'll put in a gippy when we get home."

Cindy, appeased, nodded her approval.

"Where's the rest of you?" Benjamin asked as he looked around. Jayce nearly did a double take as he turned to the man, as he was not seated in a wheelchair, but clearly standing unassisted. All it took was a glance to notice impressive metal braces that wrapped around the man's legs, etched with magical runes and polished to a beautiful brass shine.

"Uh, they're… Sorry, didn't expect ya to stand," Jayce stammered. He cleared his throat to continue. "They're gonna meet up at the clock in about half an hour an' compare notes. Somehow, our healer got away from us, again."

"I'm so, so sorry," Dahlia whimpered, her face turned toward the ground again. "I was curious about the heated streets, and I thought I could follow your voices as I paused to check if it was true. I ended up losing you all in the noise."

"Let that be a lesson, Cindy, Ash," Shimmer cut in as she turned to the children. "A moment of distraction in the city can easily get you lost. That's why we always ask you to stay close."

"I will, Aunty!" Cindy nodded, her determination clear. Her brother, eager to please and live up to his older sister, immediately yelped out his own agreement, although it was hardly necessary as it was clear he preferred being carried.

"Sir, I apologize in advance if this is rude, but I gotta ask," Jayce said to Benjamin as Shimmer and Cad continued a quick conversation with the children. "How the hell's those legs work? I thought you were crippled!"

Benjamin couldn't help but beam a broad, proud smile. "I'm so glad you asked! I was paralyzed from the waist down during a cave in, years and years ago while adventuring. Really unlucky hit, all things considered, but I refused to quit. I wanted to see the world, and my own shortcomings wouldn't stop me."

"Ah. So…how's the legs work?" Jayce asked awkwardly. He very much hoped the prompt would encourage Benjamin to actually answer the question.

"All in good time," Benjamin teased, clearly aware of Jayce's discomfort. "As you know, my brother focuses on malicious magic, but his knowledge and talents are far more reaching. I have mechanical expertise, alchemical know-how, and the tools to make it happen. We put our heads together and, fueled by my sister-in-law's endless encouragement and creative ideas, we designed braces that allowed me to walk."

Benjamin motioned to the metal braces on his legs, the proud smile still plastered all over his face. "They tap into my own magical ability to function which, I admit, is not great, but it is more than enough to power a simple construct. And before you ask! My power is tied to my emotions. Crushed by Cad's disappearance, they had a tendency to lock up from a lack of power, and so the wheelchair was simply the more practical option while we were in town. That answer your question?"

"In spades!" Jayce said, impressed. "That somethin' you sendin' to the masses?"

"Eventually," Benjamin answered with a sigh. "As of yet, they're highly bespoke, so every order would have to be custom made. If there was a way to streamline the process, one day I do hope to sell the technology to hospitals all over Exandria, but before I can even get to that point, I'm still working out the, well, irritations. Case in point, locking up when I feel depressed or frustrated."

"Yeah, that ain't ideal," Jayce agreed.

"By the way, Jayce, why do you smell like cheese and sour?" Dahlia, having sensed the lull in their conversation, cut in as politely as possible. She had been catching whiffs of the scent for several minutes now, but for the life of her could not place the food Jayce must have consumed to adopt the odor. To her delight, Jayce immediately extolled the delights of the fried cheese balls and offered to purchase a portion for her, and Ashley, who had heard the word "cheese" at least four times by then, loudly announced he wanted one as well.

With direction provided, Jayce led Dahlia, Cad, Shimmer, Benjamin, Ashley, and a very excited and chatty Cindy to the stall where he had purchased the treats. With the exception of Ashley learning the cheese balls were not simply raw cheese and deciding, in that moment, that they were no longer edible, and the crossed path of an embarrassed local official who had denied assistance for Cad's rescue on merit that he was likely dead, peace was finally enjoyed by them all. Dahlia felt light in her heart, a bright and pervasive joy that warmed her soul and withered her doubt as they bid goodbye to the new friends and traveled to the clocktower to meet the rest of her companions.

xXxXx

Upon meeting the rest of the Ceylon Seven, Dahlia apologized profusely, and as a surprise to many, accepted a hug of relief from both Zoe and Jonathan. Bera gently teased her about her predilection to disappear, to which Dahlia again apologized. She blamed the shadow in her soul, which the others took to mean her curse, but she had hopeful news; Bera's tonic had started to show some semblance of effect, and had allowed her to hear her own voice in her mind when the doubt began to creep upon her. Unseen due to her small demeanor, Bera took a moment to retrieve her me-maw's book and hug it to her chest. Although she only knew of her recent ancestor through her family's stories and the journal, she was grateful for the consistently useful advice between the pages.

What followed was a serious discussion on avoiding separation in the future, mainly due to Dahlia's limitations, but of them all in general. With the addition of copious amounts of street food, especially where Gauth was involved, the suggestions and ideas were all jovial and hopeful. Jonathan especially had a rather rousing round of "hypothetical hang-ups" against Zoe, who clearly reveled in attempting to stump her brother's creative problem-solving with her equally creative problem-creating.

The most actionable change that occurred was that Puffpaw had shifted her usual perch from Jonathan's shoulder to Dahlia's, although the cat also felt perfectly comfortable both upon and within the shoulder bag Dahlia wore on her hip. Because of their connection, wherever Puffpaw was, both Jonathan and his familiar would be aware of the other's location, which would in turn lead them to Dahlia, should she be separated from the group again.

"It's surprisingly simple, but I think I prefer it," Dahlia said with a smile, Puffpaw purring contentedly in her arms. "Puffpaw is a sweetheart, and I find her presence reassuring and calming."

"Trust me, that's one of her best qualities," Zoe said with a smile. The group had drifted through the pre-holiday festivities to a row of simple carnival games, such as pelting piles of precariously balanced bottles with bags of beans, or throwing darts to strike moving targets on hand-turned gear-driven belts. Already, snippets of conversations were turning toward the morning parade, in which the de Rolos would inevitably make an appearance, and as such many were excited to attend and catch a glimpse of the famous Whitestone patrons. "Speaking of qualities, gotta love how big cities always celebrate early, right? Westruun did this too."

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, I can't remember a holiday where artisans and merchants wouldn't set up early, trying to get coins. The way the Hazel Festival popped up overnight in Turst Fields was almost startling."

"It's also a smaller holiday," Bera chipped in, her voice somewhat brusque. Her normally velvet voice was somewhat sore from performing earlier, and due to her height and the general noise, she grumbled at how she had to raise her volume just to be heard like the others. "Civilization's Dawn has an associated goddess as well, unlike the Hazel Festival."

"That is true, but regardless," Dahlia cut in with a smile, "I must say I'm thankful to you all. Despite my limitations and-" She winced, a hitch in her voice as she fought to maintain her speech, "-and my episodes, you have all been so kind, and surrounded by you all I feel safe for the first time in a very, very long time. Thank you, each of you, from the bottom of my heart."

"Aw, sweetheart, you're doing more to warm me up than the hot food!" Bera cooed.

Dahlia blushed lightly and awkwardly cleared her throat as the others chuckled at her fluster. The early evening had, indeed, gotten chillier, and whatever warmth was to be had was jealously guarded by small crowds that huddled around portable braziers or food stalls that offered cooked fare. The only other true gatherings of people were the beer gardens that dotted the square, all filled with revelers enjoying the imbibement that offered false warmth against the cold. It was as they passed one such gathering that Dahlia suddenly noticed a familiar voice.

She twisted out her arm to gently but quickly confirm Jayce's location, and once confirmed, she tapped his shoulder emphatically as she kept her attention on the voice as much as possible. "Jayce! Quick! Tell me, is Sen sitting over there?"

Jayce glanced around them as the rest of the Ceylon Seven noticed the pause and came to a stop. "Uh, where? I don't see 'im."

"Amazing how you can't spot a drow in a crowd of pasty white humans," Al snickered.

Jayce rolled his eyes. "You got a direction, Dahlia?"

Dahlia listened again, but the comment in Sen's voice had long since concluded. "No. He's-! Argh. I'm sorry. I must be hearing things."

"Ain't nothing wrong with wantin' t' say hi to a friend," Jayce said kindly. "I wouldn't mind a few words either. I'm still tryin' to figure out how you two went hurtlin' down that cliff last night. This morning? Fuck, I'm all confused."

"I think we all are," Jonathan said as he nodded in commiseration. "It was a crazy introduction to Whitestone, that's for sure."

Gauth, as he was taller than nearly everyone by a good several feet, took a moment to look over the heads and shoulders of the people bustling about. Unfortunately, he had missed if Dahlia had indicated a direction, and therefore he had little idea which way he should look to find Sen amongst the others present. Thankfully, he was spotted first and enthusiastically called to.

"Hey, Candyman!"

Gauth looked over to see Sen, bundled up against the cold but no less jovial, standing from his seat at a temporary table with his employer, the clearly gleefully inebriated Vax'ildan de Rolo. With an enthusiastic wave, Sen confirmed his identity to the half-giant, who in turn brought the attention of the Ceylon Seven to the drow ahead of them.

"Sen! G'evenin'!" Jayce said brightly as they made their way over. "Celebrating early?"

"Nope! Celebrating on time! " Vax said brightly, although slightly slurred in his speech. "We made great progress today! And nobody died!"

"Not for lack of trying!" Sen laughed as he patted Vax's shoulder.

"Oh hell no you are not getting away from that comment without a story," Zoe giggled as she offered herself a seat. "Spill. How did you almost die, and how did you escape? I wanna hear this!"

Sen laughed. "We'll get to that. Everyone, sit! Sit where you can. Join us so I can properly introduce you all!" Sen said as he walked around the table and led Bera to have a seat to encourage the group to sit with them. Bera was more than willing to take the helping hand and gave her thanks with a flirtatious wink as Sen named each of the Ceylon Seven to Vax as they sat down.

Everyone quickly took a seat, and no one was surprised to see that Jonathan had chosen the seat directly next to Vax for himself. The second everyone was seated, Zoe could wait no longer and, beating out Al by half a breath, almost shouted, "Alright we're seated! Spill!"

Sen laughed again at her enthusiasm as he sat back down at the table. "Alright! Alright then. Vax, I'm assuming you have no qualms about me sharing what we did today?"

"Are you kidding? I trust you implicitly! Speak away!" Vax cheered, his mug up high.

"And you are drunk," Sen chuckled. "Alright! So I'm pretty sure no one here actually knows what Vax and I have been building, so to sum it up quickly, we're building a residuum powered bi-wheeled golem." Sen paused with a prideful smirk, waiting to see how the group would react to what he clearly thought was an impressive string of words.

The pregnant pause stretched longer as Sen looked over the others expectantly, his grin weakening ever so slightly from the lack of response.

"...And that is?" Al finally asked.

"Whatever it is, it would probably just fall over," Jonathan whispered to Zoe, who shrugged.

Sen sighed with a hung head. Righting himself, he asked, "Does anyone know what a bicycle is?"

"Oh! Oh! I know this one!" Zoe yelped, her hand raised almost as if she was still in school. Jonathan giggled, nodded, and quietly added a confirmation that such contraptions had recently become popular in Westruun among the elite.

"Describe it for the class?" Sen asked. He hoped she wasn't the only one who knew about the personal vehicles.

"They're pretty cool. They're two thin wheels with metal bits in the middle and a belty thing that turns the wheels when you use pedals with your feet," Zoe explained. "Thing is, if you can't balance, you can't get started, so you end up just falling on your face."

"More like shoulders and arms," Jonathan grumbled, his expression pained clearly from experience.

"...That doesn't help me," Dahlia whined.

"Oh! Hang on, Jon, you got paper? I could draw it out," Zoe offered.

"Still doesn't help me," Dahlia sighed.

Zoe winced in embarrassment, but Jayce jumped at the opportunity. "It'd still help, Zoe. Draw it out, an' I'll describe it. I'm a fair hand at word smithin', an' all."

Al rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Let me," Sen assured them. "Dahlia, do you remember the model you explored on the table this morning? All it was missing was a wheel at the front and at the back end longways."

Dahlia paused for a moment as she tried to recall the object. Finally released, Puffpaw jumped to the table and lounged regally on display as Dahlia's hands pantomimed manipulating an object, until she tilted her head and began to grin. "Oh… Oh! That makes a lot of sense now. I imagine the forward momentum would assist with balance, should sufficient speeds be met. Am I correct, sir?"

"Sen, convince her to live here. I think you like her," Vax giggled.

Sen rolled his eyes with a smile and nonchalantly commented, "Like a lotha dalninil maybe." Realizing what he said, Sen lightly blushed with his unease as he glanced at Dahlia.

Dahlia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I… I'm honored, sir. Thank you."

"Hang on, what'd he say?" Al cut in. "That wasn't elvish. If it was, that was the thickest accent I've ever heard."

Dahlia's jaw went tight in panic as she realized what may have been revealed by her comment, but instead, Vax added to the conversation.

"That's… Hang on, a little foggy here… Little…flower?" Vax said, the heel of his hand pressed on his forehead as he clearly dedicated his entire thought process to the translation.

"Close!" Sen praised, thankful Dahlia had taken it well. "Drowlish doesn't actually have a word for flower. It's actually 'little sister', although the word for sister has been used to describe flowers in the past. 'Little sister of the earth' or lotha dalninil d'l'har'dro for the full phrase."

"Really?" Al said slowly. "Dahlia, you know Drowlish?"

Dahlia smiled, although her smile was clearly tense. "I know several languages. Drowlish is one of them."

"And with how rare it is to hear in this country, I was pleasantly surprised too," Sen confirmed. "Now that we all have an idea of what we're working on, someone wanted to hear about my bout with death, correct?" Sen asked, leaning towards Zoe with a smirk almost as if to dare her to respond.

"Finally! Talk!" Zoe yelped as she slapped the table. "I want to hear this!"

Sen laughed at her enthusiasm. "Then talk I shall! For simplicity in the story I shall call our project a Motor-Bike. We have been working on this Motor-Bike for months, and while in theory it works, we couldn't get the battery system to work." Vax groaned in agony and dropped his head to the table, to which Sen flashed him a sympathetic smile. "While that was being worked on, we decided to use some powder we had in the lab to run it. It would run for eighteen seconds, but if it worked it would go faster than a horse. We both agreed eighteen seconds was short enough but thorough enough to safely test.

"We get to the track behind the main building of the school. It should be perfect for us as it runs the full length of the building and then some, and it loops back around on itself, so we had no worries of running out of track. I had on a thick leather coat, some plating on my legs just in case, and a helmet with a little padding inside just in case I crash. We set up the Motor-Bike, I mount it like a horse, and then I activated the engine. With no warning, it lurches forward, almost leaving me behind! This thing isn't the speed of one horse, no, it's almost three times as fast, and with exceedingly instant acceleration!

"So I'm holding on, concentrating on what's happening as anything could go wrong, and then something did. The reins Vax had installed to steer the bike ripped off; the vibration of the engine just too much with my added weight from pulling on them. Now with no way to control this machine moving at break-neck speeds, I lurched forward and grabbed the scaffolding holding the wheel on the front of the bike. Holding on for dear life, I steer it back on to the track and figure enough is enough, I need to stop. So I hit the brakes!" Sen intentionally paused, building the drama as he slowly stood with his speech.

"And it doesn't stop ."

Of course, Sen's flair for the dramatic forced him to pause in his speech, but in the span of less than a breath, Bera's patience completely expired.

"Oh bloody hell if you stop the story there I will personally tear your easily reachable balls off your crotch and feed them to you!" Bera yelped. Nearly half the table jumped, and most of them burst out laughing at the ridiculous threat. Zoe, in particular, had quite the trouble breathing and leaned heavily on Jonathan to wheeze through her guffaw.

After the second it took Sen's laughter to calm down, he promised, "I'll finish the story! I'll finish. Please spare my balls."

Bera crossed her arms and nodded with a huff. "I shall, condition pending on finishing your damn story! "

"As you wish," Sen confirmed with a wink to the bard. "My mind was racing. My heart was thrumming in my chest. I had to do something! I remembered then that when I checked the Motor-Bike before I started it, I made note of the piston that was supposed to clamp down on the back wheel. I glanced behind me, and there it was. The piston had been shaken loose! So I dangerously leaned to the side, my ear feeling like it was mere centimeters away from the ground, and I kicked that piston back into place! Righting myself, I almost tipped over the bike from the momentum, and I was running out of track before the turn. I had to balance, and I needed that brake to work! With another pull of the lever, it wobbled, it screamed from the friction, the bike threatening to throw itself in a pitch! But it slowed… And it came to a gentle halt. The test was over, and as I told Vax after, I… had notes." Sen sat back down, having finished his story. His face reflected the relief he had felt upon completing the test that morning.

Everyone paused in awe as the gravity of the close call hit them. Jonathan managed to collect his thoughts first, and asked, "How, uh, far did you go in those eighteen seconds? And you did travel the whole eighteen seconds, right?"

"The whole eighteen," Sen confirmed. "And in that time I traveled around…" Sen looked to Vax and asked, "It was around three hundred meters, right? That's what you measured?"

"Feet, Sen," Vax explained, his face still firmly plastered into the table. "Three hundred feet. We don't use that fancy meter system, even though…even though Dad's right. We really should. Makes more sense, you know?"

"Three-hundred goddamn feet in eighteen seconds?!" Al gasped. "You're fucking joking! No horse moves that fast! Only mages can!"

Sen leaned on the table in Al's direction with a flirtatious grin. "And now, so have I."

"I call bullshit," Al smirked back. "Prove it."

"We don't have to prove shit, you… What'd you call him, Sen? Catpaw?" Vax slurred. He finally picked up his face from the table to look at his friend, and of course there was now a very visible imprint of the wood grain on Vax's forehead.

"Catpaw," Sen confirmed with a chuckle. "And once we figure out the mechanics to make it affordable, you could try it yourself. A little patience is all you need."

"See? Sen's good with…with names'n'such'em…" Vax yawned. "Sen, why am I so tired?"

"And it's Al," Al grumbled under his breath.

"Because you are drunker than how well a roper hides like a rock. Stay here. I'll get you some water." Addressing the table, Sen asked, "Keep an eye on him for me?"

"Of course," Jayce laughed. "Ain't my first time keepin' an eye on a drunk."

"Actually, I say we need a round," Sen suddenly decided. "Someone willing to come with to help me carry it all?"

"I will carry," Gauth said as he rose from his seat. "I will ask about this motor-bike as well."

"Good man! This way, and I'll answer what I can." Sen led Guath away from the table to a nearby stall to order their drinks.

As Sen and Gauth stepped away and disappeared into the gathered crowds, Vax took a deep swig of his glass despite the vessel being practically empty. Al commiserated with Vax in the moment while the drunk lord looked surprised and disappointed.

"So, while we've got a second," Al said as he leaned on the table. "Tell me more about this motor-bike. What's it supposed to be for?"

Vax immediately took on the look of someone who had bitten a rather sour lemon. "Because," he hissed, his eyes narrowed, "too many children, my own youth included, have had their lives destroyed by a menace on our streets. I aim to replace those creatures before they do any more damage to us!"

"Gods above, did you lose a child?" Bera gasped.

Vax suppressed a burp and shook his head hard enough that he almost lost his seat at the table. Thankfully, Jayce was right next to him and steadied him before his seat could be lost. "No. I was merely a teen when I was bodily thrown and nearly lost the use of my legs. P-paralyzed…from the ribs down due to- I- Fuck, Sen? Sen ?!"

Dahlia reached across the table and placed her hand on Vax's arm. Her shudder was subtle, and only visible to her friends because they knew to look for it, but her touch did have the desired effect of calming Vax in Sen's absence. "Sir, please, there is no need to continue. Personal injury of that magnitude is traumatic, even if it has faded from view. Please don't feel the need to explain further than this."

Vax sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "Just give me another beer."

"Yer buddy's lookin' into that now," Jayce said with a smile. He patted Vax's shoulder in camaraderie, and thankfully the man seemed to appreciate the gesture. "'Sides, pretty sure whatever beast it was ain't gonna bother ya anymore, right?"

"Oh they will," Vax growled. "Gods-damned horses are all over the city. I can't escape the foul creatures."

"And now I'm glad Gauth isn't here," Al huffed in shock.

"No kidding," Bera mumbled, her own breath of relief politely hidden behind her knuckles.

"So…some horse bucked you, you got paralyzed, and-" Zoe began, quietly as she attempted to put the clues together. Dahlia gruffly cleared her throat and glared in Zoe's general direction, loud enough that Zoe made the wise decision to pause her thought mid-sentence.

"Whether he currently walks from magical or mundane care, we do not need to know the details, nor do we need to force him to relive the moment," Dahlia warned her. "Let's just enjoy the evening."

"I second that," Jonathan cut in. "We-"

"Lord de Rolo!"

Everyone turned to the flustered man who had just reached the table. With a gasp to catch his breath, he pulled out a leather folder and quickly produced some papers. "Lord de Rolo, I am so incredibly sorry to bother you now, but I need your signature before I can continue with next month's allotment budgeting."

"How can you be serious?" Vax whined. "It's the night before Civilization's Dawn! How is this important right now!?"

"I am so, so sorry, my lord," the man pleaded, "but this must be signed and sealed tonight before the holiday tomorrow. You know the offices will be closed."

"Just get my sister to do it. Or my father. Or my mother! Why not! Let's just go up the ladder!" Vax yelled, his arms waving about drunkenly as his emotions got the better of him.

"We're back!" Sen announced as if to suddenly grab everyone's attention with his approach. Directing his attention to the new man at the table, Sen continued, "My good sir, tell me you're not working on the eve of Civilization's Dawn, are you?"

The flustered man sighed heavily and presented the papers. "Unfortunately, I am. Last minute duties before everyone closes tomorrow."

"What's so important, anyway?" Jayce asked. "Allotment, right? Last time I heard that was about somethin' a little too important to leave to some last minute fuckery."

Sen took the papers and read over them thoroughly. His face grew confused for a moment before asking, "If I may, why is this being brought here? Lord Vax'ildan isn't on the board for these matters."

"I was about to ask," Jonathan mumbled.

The man winced and tensed as if he expected a strike. "I know, sir, but the board has already submitted their approval; we're just missing a signature from a representative of the patron family. I've already tried Lord Wolfe, Lady Leona, and even Lady Gwendolyn, as the patron Lord and Ladies themselves were unavailable in some sort of cabinet meeting. Please, sir, I just need a signature!"

Al huffed and crossed his arms. "What, are you expecting to be fired for this? You're acting like you'll literally lose a limb if you don't get this done."

"My apologies, sir, but this doesn't concern you," the attendant said quickly. "Lord Vax'ildan, please, just your signature, and I'll leave you be."

"This is getting really pushy," Bera whispered. Zoe, who was closest, nodded in agreement.

"Fine! Sen, you have my permission to sign on my behalf. All of you as witnesses," Vax huffed. "Just get it done!"

Sen nodded and read through it again. After a moment, he held out his hand for something to write with. Immediately, the attendant hurriedly passed over a pen and visibly breathed with relief when the signature was completed. In the meanwhile, Vax had accepted his new beer from Gauth and had already drunk half of it by the time the paper was returned to the flustered man.

"Thank you so, so much, Lord de Rolo," the man said with a deep bow. "Truely, I owe my future employment to you."

"Just get it filed and enjoy the holiday," Vax grumbled. "And Sen, thank you. Knowing my mood, you know how I would have signed that gods-damned thing."

Upon finally noticing which glass Vax had taken, Sen quickly grabbed it and switched the drink with a much more harmless one. "And that is exactly why you're cut off. No more beer for you, friend. You need to sober up for tonight."

"But now I'm curious," Zoe giggled. "What would you have signed?"

"Not my name, that's for sure," Vax mumbled. He took the glass and gave it a tentative sip before he threw his head back in annoyance. "Sen, I don't want cloud-piss. I want beer!" he whined.

The alternative name for water appealed to the immature humor of several members of the Ceylon Seven, and sent those affected into a fit of giggles. Even so, the interruption was the perfect time to salvage the conversation, and Vax insisted on learning the past history of the group in company. Jayce immediately launched into the tale of Dahlia's first ever festival game, and how she managed to land her first shot of Trebuchet absolutely perfectly.

Vax and Sen both protested the likelihood of such a feat, to which Zoe loudly announced more festival games would clear up any doubts faster than bandied words. The notion of the inebriated participation of festival folly was quite tempting, and with little prodding on Zoe's part, all involved were excited to explore the pre-holiday grounds.

Vax needed to be steadied as they walked, but Sen had no trouble offering his shoulder to lean. It was this act of friendship that drew the ire of a seated woman, a costumed performer perched upon a small seat above a large drum of water. The instant the group began to pass, she loudly declared her amusement at the idea of a walking distillery, and then vapidly apologized for mistaking the group's odor for being an innovative invention.

The woman's companion immediately noted the group and launched into his practiced busking. "Dunk the Dame Delilah! Douse the Disaster of Whitestone! Two copper a toss! Give it a try!" With a measured step, he easily blocked their forward momentum and plastered on a big smile. "Don't let her get away with such insults, sir! I'm sure you could easily hit the target despite a drink or two! She won't get the best of you, eh?"

"The man couldn't hit the ground if he threw straight down," the discount Delilah huffed and crossed her arms. "Clearly, I am perfectly fine upon this perch."

"Actually, this is perfect!" Zoe yelped with glee. "Dahlia, wanna give it a try?"

"I-I think I'd rather not," she mumbled. Puffpaw, back within her arms, purred and bumped her forehead to Dahlia's chin, and the gesture seemed to help her calm despite her fluster.

"Oh come on, we need to prove your aim!" Zoe smiled. "Two copper, right?"

"Don't waste your coin. It would be better spent on a brush for that mop you call hair," the performer spat.

Zoe smirked at the performer and slapped two copper into the busker's palm. With a fluid sleight of hand, the busker swapped the coins for a small wooden ball, and Zoe picked it up with glee.

"Okay, Dahlia, I'm gonna move you a bit," Zoe said quickly, barely a breath before she grabbed Dahlia's shoulders and positioned her in front of the target. "Now, target's straight ahead, about, eh, seven feet, three feet off the ground. It's small, maybe the size of your stomach, so it's not much to hit. You ready?"

"Honestly, she'd have better luck if she was blind" the performer haughtily griped.

"Lucky for you, she is!" Sen quipped back.

The performer instantly dropped character out of shock and threw a hand to her lips in embarrassment, but Zoe waved her off to show no harm was done. Flustered, the performer cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "She'll need it. I am perfectly dry upon my perch. None of the drunken idiots about today have even touched the target."

"Oh this is gonna be good," Jayce snickered under his breath.

Despite Al's feelings of jealousy toward Dahlia, he had to nod at Jayce's comment and agree. Gauth was already irritated at the costumed woman and clearly wanted a turn, so even if Dahlia missed, Al was more than sure the woman would end up soaked on that cold evening.

"Oh! This'll help," Jonathan smiled. He dashed over to the target and put his face right next to it, as close as he could wedge himself between the wooden disk and the cloth set up behind it. "Aim for about three inches to my right, Dahlia. Right where my voice is."

Dahlia listened closely, her head tilted slightly as she committed the spatial positioning to memory. With a nod, she gently placed Puffpaw on the ground, and then took the ball from Zoe. Everyone went quiet as they watched her. She concentrated, wound up, and released with all her might.

The ball whizzed through the air, but anemically. It landed a good foot in front of the target, bounced off the ground, and meekly thudded into Jonathan's boot. In a moment of panic, Jonathan twisted and rapped the target with his knuckles, hard enough to make a sound, but thankfully not hard enough to trigger the clamp that held the performer's seat parallel to the ground.

"You hit it!" Jonathan smiled, and he immediately wilted when he noticed Zoe drop her head into her hands and Bera gave him a head shake of disappointment.

"I heard it hit the ground, Jonathan," Dahlia whined, her face in her hands in embarrassment. She shouldn't have assumed she could hit a target just because she got lucky once.

With a face that clearly showed the performer didn't actually want to pick on a blind woman, the performer kept her voice vile as she hissed, "Good. Now you know what a failure you are."

"Five tosses a silver!" the busker beamed.

Gauth was prepared. His two copper were already in hand as he stepped up to the mark on the ground, his glare more than adequate to convey he wanted a turn. Cowed, the busker quickly exchanged the coppers for another wooden ball, and stepped farther back than he really needed to.

With barely any time for the others to register what just happened, Gauth pulled his arm back and whipped it hard at the target, the ball screeching through the air with practically murderous intent. It slammed into the far edge of the target, the wooden disk visibly wobbling the whole stand from the force, and then shot off rightward directly into the space Jonathan now occupied.

The ball cracked into Jonathan's ribs, winding him simultaneously as he screamed in shock. Jonathan stumbled backward, clutching his chest as he wheezed from the force a small wooden ball just beat into his side.

"Oops," Gauth mumbled, who very much at that moment wanted to be just as tall as Bera.

Bera, Zoe, Jayce, and Al all burst out laughing as Jonathan continued to stumble from the strike, his arms wrapped around his chest to staunch the pain. "What the hell, Gauth?!" Jonathan finally squeaked out, as his breath had finally returned.

"Your fault for standing next to a goddamn target!" Zoe laughed. "Oh man, Gauth, it's like you aimed that! That was perfect!"

"It was not intentional," Gauth mumbled as he huffed and looked away.

"Yes, you seem much better at striking your friends than me," the performer smirked.

"Another ball!" Gauth roared, his hand already digging through his bag for more copper pieces.

Having learned his lesson, Jonathan dashed back over to the group before the busker could pass over a third wooden ball. This time, Gauth's rage-fueled assault was successful, and struck the target with enough force that the mechanism triggered and the counterfeit Delilah dropped into the frigid water below. Her perfectly manicured hair and beautiful costume were clearly ruined by the brief dunk, and seeing the imitation of the noble-woman drenched and miserable was enough to send all of them into high spirits. Especially Gauth, who finally felt validated against the women's curated comments.

Thankfully, the woman knew enough magic to dry herself off with Prestidigitation, the multi-use cantrip common to most mages. This was especially noteworthy to Dahlia, who briefly worried the woman may suffer hypothermia from repeated dunkings in the small pool over the course of the night. Dry, make-up fixed, and reset upon her perch, the woman returned to tossing insults at passers-by just minutes after Gauth had unceremoniously dumped her from her seat.

"Crazy how fast they got that," Jayce mused as the group continued to walk along. "Sen, you got stuff like that where yer from?"

His eyes scanned the crowds surrounding them from habit, then Sen smirked. "Honestly, the best we ever did was fair food and plays. There were some games, sure, but those were more for the little kids. Nothing so…" Sen mumbled, "What's the word?" to himself before he turned back to the conversation. "- dramatic from my home," Sen responded.

"And do ya'll really live underground? I admit, I've been around, but I ain't been to Rexxentrum before. Pretty sure that was a human city, last I heard. Seat of the Dwendal Empire, right?" Jayce asked. He was thankful for a bit of a private moment as he tried to learn more about the drow in front of him. The others had moved ahead somewhat to look for more games to play, and as Vax had finally recovered his legs, his animated conversations between Dahlia and Jonathan had allowed him to drift away from Sen as well.

Sen chuckled to himself. "You pay attention, but Vax was mistaken; probably from the stress of the accident. I'm not from Rexxentrum. I'm from Rosohna, specifically a neighborhood called Hollow. The city kept growing, and as it went out, it also went down. My mother had lived there her whole life, and due to a fear of the sky she had hoped I would be just as calm in my ambitions. I was not so, especially once I started reading."

Jayce bit his tongue to avoid immediately blurting out that a fear of the sky sounded stupid to him. "Huh. You know why she got that fear?"

"Bad things happen under an open sky," Sen quoted. "The story goes she had once tried to explore her home city with some friends, and they were barely off the elevator when they were mugged. One of her friends died, and she still bears the scar on her arm. She felt if she never left the caves of Hollow, her friend would still be alive, and that pain would have never happened. She blamed the sky for being too open, and that anger became a fear and a warning she tried to pass down to me."

"Shit," Jayce said under his breath. "Please tell me they got the fuckers."

"As far as I know, they roam free still," Sen said somberly.

Jayce worked his tongue over his teeth as he thought about what Sen said. It was hard to believe all the horror stories he had been told about the drow were truly all false, but Sen's demeanor and open personality made Dahlia's point about his bias ever clearer. Just like him, Sen, and those he loved, had seen their fair share of hardships, and from Jayce's own experiences in multiple ports around the world, he knew bad luck could strike anywhere and without warning.

"Speakin' of bad luck," Jayce said suddenly, "goin' back to that whole cave clusterfuck the other night. You an' Dahlia dropped right off a cliff right in front of me. What the hell happened?"

"Oh! That." Sen sighed and did his best to match Jayce's gaze as he explained. "Since the path was deceptively thin, I had convinced Dalhia to allow me to belay the two of us down the edge instead of risking her slipping off. It was a sound plan at the time, and I have done it before. However, the wrench in the gearworks turned out to be that the dwarf had a fucking grenade launcher. Thankfully he aimed a little high and just hit my anchor, but gods damn I was not expecting that." A thought struck him, and Sen finished to himself, "I should see if I can make one myself, now that I think about it…"

"Wait, hang on, 'grenade'? Like those fuckin' handheld bombs?" Jayce asked in disbelief.

"One of those," Sen confirmed. "I guess that dwarf either was a thief and an alchemist or he knew one."

"How did it not fuckin' explode as soon as he launched it?!" Jayce yelped.

"That's the difference between a grenade and a bomb. A bomb explodes on impact. A grenade explodes after a timer has run out. Well, that or if it's shot out of a handheld cannon. That also technically qualifies as a grenade-."

Sen's body suddenly lurched as his knee locked mid-step, the wound from the previous night suddenly flaring angrily from the cold and constant abuse. As there was no visible blood or bandage, it was clear the wound had been magically treated, but some ghost of the injury still remained.

Jayce threw out his arms and caught Sen before the man could possibly fall. "Shit! You okay?"

Sen hissed to himself through the pain before he stood straight again and straightened his coat, giving a thankful nod in Jacye's direction. "I'm fine. Sniper shot my knee last night, and I guess the healing didn't work completely. I'll have to find a time to get it looked at." Clearly not proud of putting off his own health, Sen glanced at his sleeve and adjusted a simple red jeweled pin on his coat cuff before casually placing his hand in his pocket to play it off.

Jayce grimaced. "Ow. Lucky fuckin' shot." He made sure not to remove his hand until he was sure Sen had fully regained his footing. "You got it healed earlier, right? Did they make sure the bullet was gone first?"

"Haven't had a chance to," Sen admitted. "We went from the cave to my house to the de Rolo meeting and by then I was late to work. I've been with Vax all day working on our project, and honestly this is the first time today I've had a chance to relax a little bit."

"Want me to put in a good word with the resident healer?" Jayce said playfully. "Pretty sure her schedule's got an' opening or two."

Sen chuckled, "I would appreciate it. If she's got the time, I would love the second opinion. Actually on that note! I see she has a new coat."

"Yeah she loves it," Jayce smiled. "Damn pretty on her, too. Thanks again for the recommendation, Sen."

"Of course! I am curious though, how much did you pay for it?" Sen asked, a playful smirk hiding in his voice as he tried to keep his face neutral.

This time, Jayce came to a stop as the realization hit him hard. His eyes went wide and he twisted on his heel to dash back to the shop without a second thought. "Oh fuck! I forgot to pay!"

Sen laughed heartily as he grabbed Jayce by the back of his coat. "Hold! It's okay. I just wanted to make sure Eliot didn't charge you for a coat I paid for!"

"Holy shit, fuckin' balls…" Jayce wheezed into his hands. "Good fuckin' gods, Sen! That thing was over 200 gold! Let me pay ya back, please."

"He gave me a discount. And think of it as an apology for a poor first impression. Happy Civilisation's Dawn!" Sen said as he clapped Jayce on the shoulder and then left, using the chance to jog up to the group. He immediately extracted another beer from Vax's hand, commenting to remind Vax that he was still cut off as he gently chided his friend for still trying to imbibe.

Jayce was floored. His mind nearly reeled at the juxtaposition of the stories he knew and the man he had come to know, and he almost lost his balance with the dizziness that washed over him. He shook his head to clear it and steadied himself, then jogged to catch up with everyone else.

Dahlia was right. They were just ghost stories.

xXxXx

The morning was dark, the clouds thick and low as they sprinkled the world with a patter of gentle rain. Zoe, who had been awake long before the others in her room, opened the door with as much hesitation as she could stomach to avoid as much noise as possible. Bera and Jonathan, on the beds behind her, stirred but snored softly, Bera's breathing especially muffled by the trundle's quilt.

It was the first night in a while that Zoe had not slept with Puffpaw, and she already sorely missed the familiar. She had spent years without the loving cat, and now that Puffpaw had returned, even if she had been a consistent presence for well over a month, Zoe still felt a pang of jealousy that Dahlia was now the favored companion. It made a lot of sense, of course, but the jealousy still tugged at her heart.

Her peek into the hallway was too cautious to glean any information. She cursed to herself; on the one hand, she didn't want to wake her brother and friend, but on the other, she wanted to talk to Dahlia alone, and Jayce had spent the night in her room again. She woke up early out of habit from nearly a decade of ingrained training at the Cobalt Soul, but if Jayce had no similar habits, explaining her intent to Dahlia's unspoken guardian would be difficult, if not impossible. She knew she was abrasive and brusque, and Jayce clearly had a short fuse when it came to his healer friend.

Zoe glanced over her shoulder again at the occupied beds and sighed. The longer she delayed, the more likely she would have to explain herself to the other members of the party. She took one last peek into the hallway to confirm it was clear, steeled her nerves, and quietly dashed over to Dahlia's door.

Zoe's room door latched with a heavy thunk as her hand gripped the handle on Dahlia's, and she winced hard. She could already hear her brother stirring, and now she had far less time to talk than she had hoped for if she had woken anyone in that room.

The doorknob rattled as Zoe gave it a quick tug to test it. It was locked. With a steadying breath, Zoe rapped her knuckle on the door and quietly called out Dahlia's name.

There was a moment of silence, but thankfully someone shifted inside. The door unlocked and opened, Dahlia behind it, her face already worn and tired that morning. "Good morning, Zoe. I'm assuming you'd like me to work on your hands again?"

Zoe hopped up to her toes to more easily look around Dahlia. The rooms weren't massive, but they were large, and had a few blind spots that a person could hide in. Even so, the room looked empty. In a fortuitous turn of events, Jayce seemed to be out of the room, and Dahlia was actually alone.

Except for Puffpaw. The cat was on one of the beds, peacefully grooming her paws.

"Fuh- No, Dahlia, no. But I gotta come in. Can I come in?" Zoe asked. Puffpaw immediately noticed Zoe's familiar voice and chirruped with excitement, easily leaping to the floor with soundless ease and had begun to rub her body against Zoe's leg before the monk had finished her question.

Dahlia blinked twice and took a look of concern and fear. It made Zoe feel sick to her stomach.

"Of course," Dahlia said quietly. She stepped out of the way and gestured to the room. "Feel free to take either bed. Just let me know which one so I can sit opposite."

"Right, sure," Zoe mumbled. She quickly scooped up Puffpaw and buried her face in the familiar's fur for a moment to comfort herself, but then chose the bed on her right as it seemed easiest to reach. Once there, she confirmed her seat and Dahlia nodded before she took a seat on the opposite bed.

"So!" Zoe yelped, her palms sweating under her hand wraps. She had to get the words out, even if it meant almost destroying another relationship. It was eating her up alive. "I wanted to ask you about the hag's hut-"

"Please stop," Dahlia hissed with a wince. Her fists clenched in her lap and her head turned away, almost as if she feared a physical strike. "Please. That witch forced those words from me. I don't want to speak of it."

"But that's the thing!" Zoe said, her voice inching toward a yell in her nervousness. "I don't want to hurt you, I want to help. I know a thing or two about abusive parents, and-"

"You have no idea," Dahlia growled. She pressed her fingers to her eyes, her shoulders tensed nearly to her ears. "This is a part of my past I do not want to share. Here, let me just work on your hands again. I'll do your feet this morning too."

"No! I'm done!" Zoe actually did yell as she jumped to her feet. "I'm done extorting you for…for hand and foot massages! It's not money, but it's a coerced trade, and it makes me feel like a rat! I'm fucking done!"

Dahlia's lips went tight as her eyes, fearful and wide, began to mist up with tears. "I…I don't know what else to trade. Please, on merit alone, can you keep this from the others? Please? If you will take nothing else?" she begged.

Zoe gulped back her trepidation and fought her own thoughts to find some sort of solution. Something to reassure Dahlia that she wasn't a threat. Fruitless, she whipped her gaze around the room, nearly falling into a panic as she failed to come up with an answer, when Puffpaw mewed softly by Dahlia's feet.

Zoe locked eyes with the blue-eyed siamese and nodded her understanding. Shifting to kneel in front of Dahlia, Zoe gently tapped the toe of Dahlia's boot, and kept her voice soft despite Dahlia's flinch away.

"May I work on your feet this time?"

Dahlia paused in shock, her head tilted in confusion. Zoe still counted it as a win as Dahlia's shoulders had finally relaxed to a more natural stance, but then Dahlia shook her head and hugged herself.

"No. Please no. I- Do you even know how?" Dahlia asked.

"Well, no, but I will if you teach me," Zoe said, intentionally adding a pleading tone in a desperate bid to be accepted by the healer.

"But, why? Why do this for me?" Dahlia whispered. Her voice was choked by a sob that lurked just below her surface, but at that moment, she was still in control.

"Because…" Zoe grimaced to herself. She was glad Dahlia couldn't see her facial expressions. Jayce had such a way with words, as did Jonathan, but right now the only words she had were her own, and she was afraid she would be desperately lacking.

She took a deep breath and recalled Bera's long dressing-down of Al in the Snowdrop Inn. Exactly why the man had been wrong to confront Jayce in the street, strategies he should have employed, why he should apologize to the man. It was a different situation, but similar enough that it could help her.

"Because you do everything you can to help us, and, dammit Dahlia, I literally can't even recall a single time you asked us for anything except like, you know, time or talking. Like you said to Bera the other time, you just like hearing us talk, and then after we lost you on the streets yesterday, you thanked us for making you feel safe! When we lost you! It's…It's not fair! We should be better!" Zoe dropped to her butt on the floor and crossed her legs, the heels of her hands pressed into her forehead as she bared her soul to her friend. "We need to be better. You can't see the world, and this world isn't made for people who can't see. We need to be better so you can have this world just like we do."

The room descended into silence as Zoe fought back her own emotions, a mixture of despair and rage that clamped around her throat and squeezed with an intangible but viscous force. She even felt tears begin to well in her eyes when there was a tap on her shoulder, and confused, Zoe looked up to whatever had called for her attention to her side, rather than Dahlia's seat in front of her.

Dahlia, kneeling next to her, gave her a soft smile and held her arms out wide. "May I hug you?"

Zoe squeaked out a yes and threw herself into the hug, almost with enough force to knock Dahlia back, but thankfully she managed to keep her balance. Zoe sniffled hard, her pride stronger than her despair at that moment, and she managed to hold back her tears of personal disappointment.

"See? This is what I'm talking about. You have so many secrets, and gods damn it, I know those things are heavy!" Zoe whined into Dahlia's shoulder. "But you still think about us first. I want to help. I really, really do. But…I also know you won't share until you're ready. I don't want to take from you anymore. I want to help. So… I'll wait. I'll keep Jon off your back too. No more trades for silence."

There was a moment of gentle quiet between them, one made lighter by the insistence of Puffpaw to be nestled directly in the center of the hug, that felt somewhat healing in the face of past traumas. Whatever turmoil had been present in Zoe's mind, she could barely comprehend what had passed through Dahlia's just before she spoke.

"In my home language," Dahlia began softly, a timid strain audible in her words, "there are three words for 'mother'. Mater , the woman who cares for the young; creatrix , the priestess who cares for her flock, and genetrix, the…I believe the Tal'Dorien word is 'matron' of a family. The Genetrix of my family is my direct mother, and she was very far from a mater. I was not a daughter to her, I was a tool, and my only regret for escaping that life is I was unable to bring my brother with me."

Zoe pulled back from the hug and saw Dahlia in a new light. They were more similar than she had originally thought.

"If it helps, my own father wanted me to be breeding stock for his bloodline. Literally called me his 'investment'," Zoe said with an awkward smile. "Can't really say it's the same, but maybe I do know a bit about what happened to you."

"Thank you, Zoe," Dahlia said with a genuine smile. "I promise, when I'm ready I'll tell the others, but for now, thank you for helping to shoulder my secrets. I do feel…lighter."

Zoe's face broke out in a hopeful grin. "And when you do tell everybody, we can hunt down your bitch of a mom and get your brother out of there, right? We'll save him. Trust me, I know brothers! After all, my brother's a massive dork, but I'd burn the world to keep him safe, you know?"

Dahlia giggled. "He is so, so very lucky to have you," she said. "But…yes, I'd like that. Thank you."

The conversation became more relaxed and open after that, especially as Zoe was eager to describe the benefits she had noticed from frequent hand and foot massages over the last extended week.

Their voices drifted inaudibly past the closed door, where Jayce had finally arrived. In the old tradition of Civilization's Dawn, he had gone for an early walk (assisted by Dahlia's strange sleeping habits, per his request for the wake-up call) to purchase breakfast pastries as a gift for the team, and his fist was nearly about to knock upon the door when Dahlia's voice squealed out at an alarming volume. In panic, Jayce abandoned the polite entrance and shouldered the door open, fear gripping his heart as he immediately scanned the room for threats.

What he saw instead was Zoe, laughing, sitting on the floor and chiding Dahlia for her all-too-sensitive feet, of which one of the offending limbs was in Zoe's lap. Dahlia was twisted strangely, her face buried in her arms as she was sprawled across the floor, her muffled gasps for air accented by her twitches of restrained laughter as Zoe attempted, and failed, to work her thumbs into Dahlia's foot.

Upon noting Jayce's expression, Zoe collapsed into loud guffaws that did nothing but provide confusion for their half-orc companion and the growing company of the remaining Ceylon Seven behind him. Finally, after many false starts and a glazed doughnut to help her settle, Zoe explained the massage lesson and the subsequent discovery that Dahlia was ticklish.

With elated moods and large smiles, Civilization's Dawn had begun.

xXxXx

The drizzle-soaked walk to Castle Whitestone did little to dampen their spirits as they gently teased Dahlia for her ticklish nature, to which she responded by teasing Zoe for an improper grip. Jonathan immediately offered to be a test subject, but then rescinded his offer when he realized Zoe would be demonstrating on him instead of Dahlia. Zoe's sarcastic complaint of wounded pride prompted more giggles from them as they arrived at the gates, where a far more serious atmosphere forced even the most tone-deaf of them to fall to silence.

Thankful for the distraction, Al was relieved to note no one had noticed he had slipped away for most of the night. He had attempted to connect with Sen for that midnight rendezvous, and was still embarrassed at his lack of success, and his second somewhat violent encounter with Sen's small gaggle of repeat stray visitors. The scratches were easy to hide, but quite sore across his arm.

The guards at the gate recognized them immediately and led them to the eastern edge of the grounds, past the flocks of people all gathered for the morning holiday demonstration by the Whitestone Rifle Corps. Normally, such a joyous atmosphere would have influenced them as well, but the Pale Guard's dark and serious demeanor was too powerful to ignore. They passed into the shadows of the tall, foreboding castle as, just yards away, children squealed with awe at the impressive might of the military of Whitestone.

Jonathan winced with every crack of the rifles that echoed around the stone walls. His head had begun to ache that morning, with his joints stiff and his mood irritable. He was glad his sister's mood had been infectious, but he truly wished they had not been conscripted to interrogate a prisoner on that drizzling day. He was overcome with a desire to simply sleep.

Finally, after their quiet guide had shown them a door that led to a subterranean staircase, a familiar face greeted them in the claustrophobic halls of the prison below the de Rolos' ancestral home. In contrast to the general atmosphere usually afforded such a place, Sen himself was strangely elated, despite clearly dressed for battle. His armor and weapons were on full display as he confirmed details with the Pale Guard on duty, with the only clue to his strange mood tucked under his arm and hidden within a flimsy wooden box.

The guard at the top of the stairs pulled a string as the upper door shut, signaling both the arrival of the Ceylon Seven and the locking of the only entrance to the prison below. Sen and the guard involved in the conversion both looked up in unison to see the new arrivals.

"Good morning!" Sen greeted the group, turning to face them properly. "I trust everyone slept well?"

"Better'n on the road, that much's clear," Jayce said with an anxious smile. "Gotta admit, didn't think we'd be the ones involved in an interrogation, but we're determined t' see this through."

"First time interrogating someone?" Sen asked.

"Let's just go with that so we don't incriminate anyone," Al cut in. "Besides, what's in the box? Tools? Poisons and acids?"

"Al, shut the fuck up," Jayce hissed. "This ain't pleasant business for anyone involved."

"And on a gods-damned holiday no less," Jonathan mumbled under his breath.

"The box is not at all related to our job today," Sen admitted as he pulled out the box from under his arm and opened the lid. "Since we had to work over the holiday, I thought it would be nice to participate a little bit before we had to start. Happy Civilisation's Dawn, everyone." With a bright smile, Sen started pulling out small bags and handed them out to their intended recipients.

One by one in the group, each person ended up with a small bag of assorted sugar plums, as well as a more personal gift. Bera's bag had a lovely fabric flower sewn on a ribbon for her hair tied around her bag, and Jonathan's bag was tied shut with a silken cord that sported a glass charm cut like a jewel. Gauth, Dahlia, and Al all got additional bags, with extra cinnamon drops, chocolate truffles, and something that looked like crystal sugar respectively, and most notably, Zoe received a small box that contained a pastry from the Slayer's Cake; a creampuff painted with chocolate to look like a siamese cat's face, with small chocolate ears to complete the look.

Jayce glanced at everyone's gifts with growing confusion, as he had only received one bag. As Zoe spazzed about her little treat ("It's a cream-Puff-paw!" she squealed) and Jonathan eventually figured out his gift was a collar for Puffpaw, Jayce glanced inside his small pouch to find a letter.

"You got the coat already. Enjoy the candy!" it read.

Jayce rolled his eyes but smiled and nodded his thanks to Sen, who smiled knowingly back.

"Oh, Zoe," Sen cut in, "I still feel bad about how Mischief treated you, so this is from the both of us as an apology. I hope that's okay."

"Nah, it's fine," Zoe giggled. She held up the creampuff to her cheek as she presented the pastry to the others. "I mean, look how adorable this is! It looks just like Lady Puffpaw!"

"And you're about to eat it, which gives me concerns," Jonathan smiled.

"Oh hush and let the girl enjoy her treat," Bera chided. She expertly tied up her hair with the ribbon, but the volume of her copious curls clearly showed such a restraint would be short lived. Even so, Bera wore it with pride and bowed with a flourish to Sen as she said her thanks. Sen, ever the gentleman, bowed back with a wink.

Dahlia began to fidget with her still unopened gifts in her palms. "Sir Sendori, I appreciate your generosity and I truly feel it is undeserving of us, and so I am grateful; however, I feel the situation in which we find ourselves is highly inappropriate, as we're here to interrogate and-" She visibly gulped, as if the next thought was literally bitter. "-potentially torture the captives from the mountain caves. How can you be so…well, chipper?"

Sen sighed and then explained, "Because right now I'm not working. Once we walk through that threshold, work begins, and with the horrible timing of this I wanted you all to have at least a moment where you got to enjoy the holiday. So with that said, are we ready to start working?"

"I-I don't condone this," Dahlia whimpered, the gifts hugged to her stomach. Jayce, closest to her arm, tapped it twice above the elbow and then rested his palm against her forearm.

"Dahlia, I know it ain't ideal, but those assholes are the only clue we got as to why Sen's lab got raided, why they stole residuum, and who the fuck's in charge. If they ain't gonna talk, what've we got?" he asked softly.

"Honestly, one of them can't talk," Al grumbled. "Unless we can use some sort of telepathy magic to get his memories out."

"Better than some other options," Zoe whispered to herself, her face pale from disgust as she clearly recalled back to a specific potion in Westruun.

A voice, male, piped up from the doorway to the cells beyond. "That won't work."

Everyone turned to see a grey tiefling, his skin nearly the same color as the grey cloak about his shoulders, at attention next to the doorway. He gave a loose salute to Sen with a nod, then turned to the Ceylon Seven directly.

"The prison beyond this point is under the influence of an anti-magic field, to prevent malicious parties from scrying on the occupants. The Mistress of the Grey Hunt has determined it works in our favor if their employers believe they are dead, rather than know they are in our hands."

"That's actually a pretty good idea," Jonathan said with an impressed nod. "That really does limit our options though."

"That it does," Sen agreed. "Now, I am well traveled and can spin a tale, but when it comes to interrogation I'm not the strongest we have. Anyone here willing to step up?"

Gauth cracked his knuckles and grinned like a predator about to play with its food. "No magic does not change my strength."

"And I've got a few tricks," Zoe smiled, her hand raised like a tyke in school again.

"I think the better question'd be who's stayin' behind?" Jayce asked, as he looked over the others. To no one's surprise, Dahlia immediately stated her desire to remain out of the proceedings, and once pressed, Bera also expressed distaste.

"I have a feeling my constitution would be better suited to keeping Dahlia company," Bera chuckled nervously.

"For which I am grateful," Dahlia said with a nod.

"Then let's get this started." Handing the box off to the first guard Sen was speaking to when the group came in, Sen nodded to the grey tiefling. "Will you lead the way?"

The tiefling nodded with a smile and shifted a holstered rifle across his shoulder. The weapon was a work of art, hand-crafted with care and set with inlaid mother-of-pearl that was etched with intricate, knotted patterns along the rifle's stock. Careful, tiny notches created a corrugated pattern just next to the firing chamber, an impressive display of confirmed targets, although it was not clear what targets those marks had counted. Details Sen noticed.

"If you don't mind me asking," Sen asked as he indicated the rifle, "Is that Eyebite?"

The grey Grey Hunter beamed with pride. "Indeed it is. Been tinkering with it a bit, so I can't say I'm surprised it's still got the longest accuracy in the Grey Hunters."

With a childlike glint in his eye, Sen asked, "I have to know. Longest shot; what was it?"

The tiefling smirked and pulled the rifle in front to more easily show it off. "973 yards, straight into a target's pupil," he easily recounted. "The bullet barely had the velocity to pierce the cornea but did enough damage to permanently blind the perp."

Although they normally had a palpable contention between them, Jayce and Jonathan shared a look of shock, awe, and fear in response to the tiefling's almost nonchalant comment. It was clear, if they had been against real Grey Hunters just a few nights before, they would have been in far greater danger and may not have survived.

Sen smirked. "Looks like I'll have to try and beat it if I can. Any advice?"

"Sir, beggin' yer pardon," Jayce cut in, his nervousness only barely perceptible in his voice, "we got work to do today. Granted, the day off was sorely needed, but it's still lost time, and whoever's behind this probably ain't waitin' around."

The Grey Hunter nodded. "In that case, welcome to the Whitestone dungeons. They're the only prisoners in there right now, so just keep walking until some dwarf starts hissing at you." He chuckled. "Pretty funny how he tries to keep swearing and screaming and he barely sounds more threatening than a cat in heat."

"Nothing about what happened to him is funny," Sen warned, his demeanor visibly darker.

"But it was deserved," the Grey Hunter grinned, his smile more like that of a predator than of amusement. "No one threatens Whitestone."

The hallway fell to a brief silence as those gathered waited for a second half of the comment, some condition that was applied to anyone who tried to threaten the somewhat sovereign city. Instead, it slowly dawned on them that the comment was not a threat, but a promise. It was a truth that was upheld by the Grey Hunters, at the very least the Grey Hunter before them, and any attempt to disrupt the peace of Whitestone would be personally attended to by the Grey Hunters, including the very impressive sniper in front of them.

Even Gauth, who stood a full foot and a half over the Grey Hunter, felt small in front of the man.

"Then let's get to work," Jayce said firmly, partly to end the conversation, and partly to spur his own feet into movement. With a nod to the others, he began the trek down the long hallway, past a turn toward the left, and down yet another long stone corridor flanked by iron-barred rooms of meager means.

Tucked away into a back corner, far from the few rooms that offered just a slit of corrugated sunlight to peek through yet more iron bars, the jawless dwarf and the humiliated Grey Huntress were chained to the far walls of their cell. Jayce, Zoe, and Gauth led the way as Al, Jonathan, and Sen brought up the rear, although Jonathan began to stall. His neck was stiff and his eyes felt pained, but he couldn't be sure why his vision was not adjusting well to the low light. He paused briefly to rub some life back into his face, unfortunately next to the jawless dwarf as the others continued to the only prisoner who could really speak.

A clang and a garbled roar of fury startled Jonathan enough to nearly launch him across the thin corridor, into the bars of the opposite cell. The dwarf, the thin, scarred skin across his throat bulging with every swallow and gasp, gurgled a laugh at the pale wizard who scrambled to keep his footing, the chains clattering as they came to rest back against the wall.

"Keep up, Jon. He ain't gonna help," Jayce called back.

Irritated and slightly embarrassed, Jonathan flashed the dwarf two middle fingers, which the dwarf returned despite his arms chained to be stretched above his head. Jonathan jogged to catch up as the others crowded around the Grey Huntress, a few cells down.

"Mornin' miss. I'd say 'happy Civilization's Dawn', but I got the feelin' you couldn't give a flyin' fuck about that," Jayce said to her. She scowled at him, but he shrugged it off. "Regardless, we got a fair idea who's pullin' strings here, and we want answers. Just confirm a few things, and we'll put in a kind word, got it?"

While Jayce himself has never fielded an interrogation before, he had read multiple books that included one in the narrative. Based on that, and that alone, he hoped he could manipulate the conversation enough to have her trust them, just enough to betray the enemies of Whitestone before things went too far.

Jayce glanced over to the others to gauge their opinions. Gauth looked conflicted, his previous fire and eagerness tamped down by the defeated, almost withered form of the Grey Hunter chained to the wall. Zoe looked determined, but concerned, her fists clenching and unclenching as her eyes darted around in some unseen calculation, and her brother stood next to her, squinting as he rolled his neck in stiffness. It was almost odd to see them without Puffpaw, but the familiar had stayed behind with Dahlia, per last night's agreement.

Al kept to the back of the group, his eyes always on the lookout for anything suspicious as he glanced down both directions of the dungeon corridor. He seemed to have little opinion about what was happening, so long as he could keep his exits clear. Sen, at Jayce's side, pulled out a journal filled with loose papers, and began quietly skimming through them. The dark elf glanced up while halfway through a page, caught Jayce's gaze, and nodded in understanding. With a short turn of the book, Jayce could see a transcript that had the Grey Huntress's name clearly marked for the records: Evelyn Wystin.

Jayce turned back to the Grey Huntress, her arms chained to the wall as she kneeled before them. Her gaze was dark and feral, but her body was limp and weak. Inspired, Jayce bent down to kneel in front of the bars, similar to how she currently sat on her heels, and looked her in the eye from her level.

With a sigh, he looked right into her eyes as he spoke. "Miss Wystin, yer in a damn awful bind, but you ain't gotta worry about rovin' ears. They got some anti-magic shit blockin' all attempts to scry, so whatever you say is safe between us."

Evelyn Wystin puffed up her chest, a scowl on her face, before she spat directly at Jayce and growled deep in her throat. "Prove it, orc spawn. Even the last interrogators got little else than that spit from me."

Jayce took in a deep breath to steady himself and wiped the spit from his cheek, inwardly glad it didn't land more centrally on his face. "Fine. If magic ain't gonna work back here, that means not even innate magic, yeah?"

"That's the assumption," she hissed.

Jayce snapped out his arm and tried to summon his weapon, the falchion that once belonged to his captain. A familiar sensation of ice crackled along his bones, down to his palm, where a tongue of blue-black flame flashed to life…and then immediately sputtered out of existence as the magic, forced to unwind, recoiled back into his arm with a fury.

With a cry of unexpected pain, Jayce grabbed his arm to staunch the spasm that afflicted the limb. He sucked air through his teeth as he briefly saw stars and released the breath once the pain had finally passed.

"There. See? No magic," Jayce huffed. He stretched out the affected arm and flexed his fingers, which had gone numb from the attempt to summon his blade. "And t' sweeten the deal, we're only here for one thing; we want to see your sister home safe, and that's the whole gods-damn truth. Let the guards deal with the other fuckers. What you see here is a dedicated team for search and rescue."

Evelyn's eyes darted over Jayce's form, clearly searching for any hint of a lie, any excuse to cage herself back up and hold her tongue in her sister's defense. Finding none, her anger began to well up in her throat and tears of rage threatened to blur her vision. Knowing the day, she knew this was her last chance.

"Do I have your fucking word you will find Teagan and keep her safe from those necrophiliac assholes?" Evelyn choked, as her anger had nearly clenched her throat shut as she inwardly seethed.

"Every fuckin' word I got," Jayce said gravely, his hand on his heart. "I swear against the lives of my closest friends I'll get Teagan home safe and sound, whatever it takes."

"I'll hold you to that, greenskin," Evelyn growled. "You've only got one chance, and that's today."

Jayce blinked in confusion. "Today?"

Evelyn nodded. "There's going to be three attacks that I know about: One is going to attack the de Rolos during the parade, one is going to attack the campus, and the third is going to infiltrate the Whitestone Castle during the shitstorm while the guards rush off to save the students."

The group almost recoiled in shock as they processed what they heard. Three coordinated attacks? How many bodies did this unknown enemy have to throw at everything? Targeting the de Rolos made sense, as they were the leaders of Whitestone and incredible warriors in their own right, but wouldn't it make more sense if they had thrown their entire strength at the de Rolos?

Jonathan parsed through the comment as Evelyn, unprompted, continued with a detailed description of the compound that supposedly hid in the nearby mountains to the north, nestled in the Alabaster Sierras that surrounded Whitestone on three sides. An attack on the de Rolos, an attack on the college, and an infiltration unit in the castle while the "guards rush off."

Inspiration struck him as the fight in the cave came back. The group of ramshackle Grey Hunter imitators had been desperate to procure a bag of residuum crystals, even at great peril to themselves. What if Evelyn had wanted the bag to buy her sister's freedom? As a true Grey Hunter, it made sense that she would be at least somewhat in charge of that group, but then why attack the castle?

A stabbing pain behind his eyes invaded his thoughts and forced them to a sudden halt as he gripped his head in pain. Jonathan hissed in annoyance and then fought to return to his train of thought, only to notice that Jayce's face had disappeared.

The strange irregularity immediately caught Jonathan's attention, and his eyes snapped to Jayce's head, only to note his face had returned. Unfortunately, now immediately to Jayce's left, a strange void of crystalline fractals began to slowly spread, devouring everything in his left-side vision until his head began to throb from the attempt to make sense of it all.

"Damn it all!" Jonathan swore loudly enough that everyone paused and immediately turned to him. He was about to fall into immeasurable pain at the worst possible time. "Quick, Sen, how are residuum crystals and Castle Whitestone connected?!"

Stunned at the sudden question, Sen organized his thoughts quickly and then responded, "The refinery. Has to be. It's located under the castle."

"Then that has to be the real target!" Jonathan nearly yelled. Already his head was starting to swim as pressure began to build behind his eyes. "Why else throw so many enemies at different targets? To distract from the real goal!"

"Then we've got no time to lose," Jayce said quickly. He stood up and brushed himself off as he turned to the others. "Sir Sen, we gotta tell the de Rolos-"

The dungeon shook as the ground underneath them pitched from the force of distant explosives, triggered in hidden locations along the castle's west-side foundation. The same foundation that shared a wall with the underground dungeon. The same dungeon that now collapsed around them, conveniently destroying the particular cells that housed very specific prisoners.

The timetable had apparently moved up, and had included a plan to literally bury loose ends.