It has been three days since you and your companions escaped from Sho-Battai.
The morning after the escape, you met with Jezka and Noff among everyone else who survived. Jezka planned to leave the Empire and head south and convinced Noff to join forces with her. She also wanted you to go with her, willing to take the risk of the bounty you no doubt would have long placed on your head by this point with probably enough zeroes to make you the target of many.
You made it clear to both her and everyone else that you wouldn't be going with them. Jezka, while disappointed, wasn't surprised by your refusal. While you didn't give voice to your intention to rescue Weiss, both she and Noff knew you enough to make a guess. Fortunately, both were content to keep it to themselves.
So you parted ways on amiable terms. Most of the surviving mercenaries and the manor staff chose to go with them, having been won over by Jezka's charisma and Noff's steady leadership. The rest scattered to the four winds in smaller groups, hoping to slip under the notice of any pursuing party sent after them.
Nines and Ezra weren't among the survivors. You didn't know when or how those two fell. The rush from the manor to the city gates had been hectic and you had been focused on keeping Blake safe and moving in the right direction.
It was only when the whole group came to a stop to rest far out of the sight of the city that you remembered them. Yet, they were nowhere to be found which only meant they must have been left behind, dead or alive.
You feel guilty over their fates. Perhaps if you had paid more attention…
No, such thinking is pointless now.
It's time to make a decision.
The food rations you and your companions took from the Weiss' mansion will last you a week at most. You also don't have any tents and have been sharing body heat at night to resist the frigid desert cold. And despite how cuddling with four different women under heavy blankets every night might sound to some like a dream, the reality is a lot more uncomfortable considering that one of the said women is a shek and the other is a feral catgirl who hates the said shek's guts.
Your body would be covered in scratches by now if it weren't for your aura. There is also the matter of sand and how it gets in everywhere.
The good news is that you and Valentine both agree that you are not being followed. Whoever Lord of Sho-Battai might have sent after is probably following the tracks of Jezka's group. This gives you and your companions relative freedom to move.
The bad news is that, according to Zena a good chunk of the Imperial Guard is currently present in the said city. You had figured that Weiss' arrest wasn't the work of a single noble when you learned it was backed by an imperial edict. But to move such a large portion of the fucking Imperial Guard can only be done on the orders of the Emperor's or the Inner Circle.
This means that trying to sneak back into Sho-Battai on your own is not a viable option. The moment you are spotted, you would be dogpiled by not only the city's own samurai but also the United Cities' very best warriors.
Valentine assures you that she can do it on her own.
While you believe her, you are reluctant to let her take that risk… Not without you by her side at the very least and definitely not when you have another option available.
There is a clan of shinobi who have a hideout nearby that is only four days of travel on foot. The shinobi of this clan are all smugglers and thieves and the clan itself subsists on black market trade.
As such, they know all the ways to get into any of the Empire's cities without the notice of the samurai protecting them. Moreso, these shinobi also deal in information trade and there is a good chance that they might know where Weiss is being held.
And the leader of this shinobi clan owes you a blood debt.
Valentine agrees with your choice of action once you inform the group of your plan. Zena, on the other hand, seems leery of trusting criminals. You understand ex-protege's concerns perfectly but you know from personal experience that this specific clan honors their word and debts enough that they won't sell you out to the authorities.
However, you can't guarantee that they will help. They might decide the risk of drawing Noble Circle's wrath too much of an ask. They might also have undergone a change in leadership and the new chief might not recognize the debt of his predecessor.
But even in that case, you can at least restock your group's provisions and buy camping supplies.
Zena accepts your reasoning without any protest. Her faith in you seems to have not waned despite the years that passed since you resigned from your post as a samurai.
She remains as reliable as she ever was back when she was your second-in-command.
With Valentine and Zena on board, your next course of action is decided.
Morena is content to follow your lead as always. The shek warrior rarely speaks, yet watches you very closely. You can't help but feel that she is judging and analyzing every action you take.
Meanwhile, Blake has become a lot more docile and obedient. You don't really know whether it's because recovery of her brain or simply the lack of strangers around her that has led to the catgirl's change in behavior. Regardless, it is a welcome change.
Your group makes good time, mainly because all your companions are fit and can keep a heavy pace. With no need to take breaks beyond setting camp at night, which consists of making a fire and huddling together next to it under heavy blankets, you arrive at your destination two days ahead of your guess.
Before you, nestled among the dunes, lay the remains of an old village.
The decayed fenceposts and withered stalks of dry weed are the only signs that this place was a farm once upon a time. You have difficulty imagining any plant, let alone actual crops, other than cacti growing among the sands. Yet, there are more ruins like this scattered around the Great Desert suggesting that it was possible to grow crops in these lands in the past.
Except this one is not 'abandoned' like the others.
"We are being watched," Zena states. Her hand is on the hilt of her sword while her eyes scan the ruined buildings.
You nod, well aware of the fact, before walking past the rusted water tanks and the broken well. You walk between the two rows of dead fields before coming to a stop in the middle, a good distance away from the two buildings that are still standing.
There, you take a deep breath and then shout with all your might.
"LET THE OLD MAN KNOW! WOLF HAS COME TO COLLECT HIS DEBT!"
No answer comes other than the howling of the desert winds but you know that your voice is heard. So you wait. Your patience is rewarded when two ninjas clad in heavy desert cloaks step out from the building to the left. One of them walks up to you while the other waits by the door.
The ninja comes to a stop in front of you, just in the range of your reach.
"The chief welcomes you and your companions," the soft-spoken voice of a man comes from behind the cloth mask the ninja wears. "Follow me, I will lead you to him."
You follow the ninja into the house with your companions at your back. Inside is empty aside from the collapsed stairway and the debris scattered around. The floor has long since rotted away and been devoured by sand.
"I'm afraid others need their eyes to be covered first," the guide tells you before pulling out several strips of thick, heavy cloth. "While the chief trusts you, the same trust isn't offered to them."
Neither Zena nor Morena are enthused by the idea but still allow the guide to tie a strip around their heads. Valentine gives the blindfold a dismissive look but makes no protests either.
Blake, however, proves less than cooperative. She immediately begins hissing when the ninja tries to approach her. The man comes to a halt, caught off-guard by Blake's reaction. Before he can get himself mauled by the feral catgirl, you intervene.
"She is suffering from a mind disease," you explain to him. "She is not capable of revealing anyone's secrets."
The guide, probably intimidated by the feral woman making noises that no human can or should, decides to take your word for it. Thus, with everyone prepared the guide walks up to the wreckage of the stairway and begins tapping at one of the iron bars in a rhythm that you recognize is some sort of code.
In response, something begins to shift under the sand. Slowly, an opening appears on the floor leading down a narrow passage with stairs carved from stone leading down into underground.
The guide steps into the passage first. Seeing as how everyone except Blake has their eyes covered, you try to think of a way to get them all down the stairs safely…
That is until Valentine simply grabs Morena's arm and starts guiding the shek down. She doesn't seem to be hindered or inconvenienced by the blindfold in any way. You wonder for a second if she has a way to see through the thick cloth or is employing another trick.
Still, with Morena taken care of, that leaves only Zena to you. You grab your ex-protege's arm and carefully help her down the stairs with Blake following after you.
You and your companions are led through dimly lit tunnels illuminated by electric lights bolted to the stone walls.
Zena walks by your side, holding to your left shoulder with her right hand. Your left arm is wrapped around her waist to steer the blindfolded girl away from walking into the walls and to support her in case she loses her footing.
To your right, you can feel Blake pressing herself against you from behind. Ever since you stepped into the tunnels, she has been on edge. You hope that she is tense because of the underground environment rather than any danger she is sensing.
Up ahead is Valentine and Morena. Side by side, the size difference between the two is put into stark relief. Valentine is a tall woman, not only standing taller than most human women but also men. Yet, Morena is still a head taller than her and considerably more bulky, making Valentine look small.
And still, Valentine not only steers the blindfolded shek warrior with ease but also keeps her upright when she stumbles. That your lover can support the weight of the much larger and heavier shek woman, with all the heavy equipment Morena is carrying, only belies the physical strength Valentine has under the soft fat of her voluptuous curves.
Unfortunately, you are not in the correct headspace to admire said curves and the very shapely rear swaying rhythmically with every step Valentine takes. You are tense and alert, ready in case of a betrayal even though you know it is only a small possibility. Your focus is split between your surroundings, the safety of your companions, and Weiss.
Weiss hasn't left your mind ever since Sho-Battai.
The group eventually comes to a step before a large metal gate set at the end of the tunnel. Before the gate, the tunnel widens enough to allow you and your companions to stand side by side, except Blake who stays behind you.
A slit on the gate, placed at eye level, opens revealing a pair of eyes. They stare at the guide first, then move on to you and your party before returning to the guide again.
"Desert winds howl," the hoarse voice of a woman calls out softly from behind the gate.
The ninja guiding you responds, "masking the sound of a single shadow."
The slit is promptly closed shut. You hear metal bolts sliding loudly out of their slots before the gate swings open, allowing your group entry.
The shinobi behind the gate close it again after your party is through. Once all the bolt locks are secured back in their places, Zena, Morena, and Valentine are allowed to remove their blindfolds.
Before you lies an underground hall illuminated by electric lamps. It looks to be mined out from the soil with walls and the floor made from smoothed rock. The ceiling curves up towards the middle and is taller than you by at least half your height again at its highest. Open passages line the walls at either side in irregular intervals and groups of three to four shinobi crowd around near most of the entrances.
You and your companions draw many stares as the guide leads you through. Blake slips under your cloak while Zena and Morena position themselves at your back on either side, guarding your blindspot. Valentine ignores them all, walking at your side as you follow the shinobi guiding you.
At the end of the hall is a set of wooden doors guarded by two shinobi. Once you reach them, the guide stops and turns to face you.
"The chief is waiting for you behind the doors," he states. "You may pass after leaving your weapons with me but others have to stay here."
You let out a sigh and then start the process of disarming yourself.
First, you unbuckle your nodachi's scabbard, with the sword still inside, from your belt and hand it over. Then you do the same for the two katanas you carry. Following those are the jitte and the knife you carry as sidearms along with the leather pouch holding your throwing stars. The last weapon you hand over is your broken longbow.
When you are finally finished, the shinobi tasked with taking custody of your weapons, a helper your guide called from the crowd, is left holding a small armory in her hands.
"You carry a lot of weapons," the guide comments.
You shrug in response. Any weapon you use in combat is put through a lot of stress. Bladed weapons especially wear down fast, their edges dull and chip with frequent use. The maintenance kits can only do so much to prolong a weapon's lifespan without a visit to a smith and you had quite a few blades break during combat.
As such, you made a habit of carrying spares and backups along with options for certain situations.
With all your weapons handed over, the shinobi guards open the doors for you without a word. You pass through and step into the home of the old Sand Devil.
Beyond the doors, you find a spacious and opulent room.
The walls, ceiling, and floor are all made of fine wood. You take off your dirty boots on the mat placed at the entrance before stepping onto the wooden parquets with your sock-clad feet. A couple of steps more take you onto a soft, woolen rug with vivid and colorful flower patterns.
Artworks painted on linen decorate the walls along with trophies in the form of weapons, armor pieces, tusks from beasts, and a particularly large skull of a beak thing. Up above, thick wooden beams hold up the ceiling. Lanterns are hung on them with chains, each holding not a candle but an electric lamp.
The whole place is a display of wealth and power.
Its owner waits for you in the middle of the room. He is seated on a cushion with a low table made from wood set before him. Two clay cups are placed on top, one before the old man and another towards the opposite side where an empty cushion awaits his guest.
You walk forward and take the offered seat without a word.
"Welcome to my home," the old man greets you.
You nod your head. "Thank you for hosting me."
The Sand Devil is a name known to everyone involved in United Cities' criminal underbelly. He is the boss of the biggest smuggling ring in the main Imperial territories and his clan controls half of the goods going into and out of the black market.
He is one of the biggest criminals in the United Cities.
Yet he is also one of the forces that keep the gears of the Empire's economy turning. He doesn't pose an existential threat to the system built by the nobles like the Tinfist. Nor does he inflict tangible damage to it like the bandit clans that plague the Empire.
Hence, he is mostly ignored by the authorities. Nobles see him as nothing more than a lowly thief, a criminal not worth their time or effort. The Trader's Guild, his biggest enemies, see him more as a competition than a legitimate threat. He has been playing a fine balancing act for many years and as a result he and his clan have profited greatly, growing rich and powerful.
In many ways, this man is an equal of the imperial nobles who rule their cities even though nobody knows his face or real name outside his loyal followers.
And now you sit across from him as his honored guest in the hidden heart of his operations across the Great Desert.
"My son and his wife were recently blessed with a child," the Sand Devil speaks. A hint of pride creeps into his voice as he continues, "A daughter, my granddaughter. She is small, loud, ugly, and perfect in every way."
"Congratulations," you offer, raising your cup in a toast. The Sand Devil raises his own cup, and then the two of you drink. It is one of the best sake you have ever tasted.
"You once saved my son's life," the man states, acknowledging the debt he owes to you. "It's thanks to you that my daughter didn't become a widow and that I was able to learn the joys of being a grandfather."
You accept his gratitude. Yet both you and the Sand Devil know that you are not here for that. So, the man in front of you gets to the point.
"Tell me. What do you need?"
"Weiss Schnee."
"I know of her," the Sand Devil states. His next words catch you by surprise. "She had dealings with us in the past."
You weren't aware that Weiss did business with smugglers. She always felt too prim to mingle with criminals. Then again, considering a criminal has shown more honor and gratitude than all the imperial authorities combined…
"Last I heard, Lady Schnee has been arrested by the Imperial Guard acting on orders from Inner Circle. As for what crimes she is charged with, there are too many conflicting rumors but no concrete answer."
News travels fast it seems, at least to the ears of the Sand Devil. This only confirms that your decision to call on the debt was the correct choice. Now, you just need to make your request.
"I'm going to rescue her and I want your help."
You are aware that it is no simple favor you are asking of the Sand Devil. Your actions will make the United Cities your enemy. By helping you, the Sand Devil and his shinobi would risk that same fate.
"Just what is she worth to you?"
"Everything," you immediately answer, the swiftness of your response surprising you.
The old man looks you in the eye, his gaze focused and full of intent. Whatever the Sand Devil sees, it seems to have convinced him to make his decision.
"Very well. You'll have my help."
The Sand Devil tells you that it will take a day to send a message to his men in Sho-Battai and another day to get a response.
Two days. It will take two days to learn what happened to Weiss and where she is being held. Two days is fast, very fast. Faster than any courier on foot.
It is also two days you have to sit on your ass and wait while Weiss remains a captive.
Suffice it to say, you end up feeling utterly restless.
After your meeting with the Sand Devil, the same shinobi who guided you to the hideout leads you and your companions to a set of bedrooms for you all to use during your stay. Said bedrooms are barely more than cells with a simple bed to sleep on and a chest for personal storage in them but they are still leagues better than sleeping on sand in freezing cold.
Once your companions shed their backpacks and gear, you ask your guide to take you to where you can get some actual food instead of the ration packs you have been subsisting on for far too long of a time.
That is how you and your companions end up in the hideout's mess hall. It's a small enclosed space filled with four tables with benches on each side with only some free space to walk in between and a food service area at the end. It's also pretty crowded since it seems most of the off-duty shinobi hang out there.
Being forced into close proximity with so many strangers sets off Blake, who is already on edge due to being underground, something fierce.
Realizing this, you grab food for both yourself and Blake and head to the room assigned to you with the catgirl in tow.
Up until Sho-battai, it was Weiss who cared for Blake.
Sure, you watched over the catgirl the few times when Weiss had to go deal with stuff in person, but it was Weiss who handled keeping her fed, clean, and docile. It wasn't until after escaping Sho-Battai when all those duties fell onto you that you started to really appreciate just how much effort it all took.
"Stay still, Blake," you tell the catgirl, her delicate chin resting between your fingers. She lazily blinks, her cat-like eyes looking like amber gems under the dim light. You bring the piece of cloth held in your other hand up to her lips and gently wipe off the oily sauce smeared on and around them.
As far as foods go, meatwraps are delicious if a bit messy to eat.
Finished, you let go of Blake and stash the soiled cloth with the rest of your trash to be sorted out later. When you return to your seat on the bed, Blake lays her head down on your lap and claims your pant-clad thigh as her pillow.
As you stare down at her, you are struck by how much the catgirl has warmed up to you since you rescued her from the cannibal village. You remember how fearful of you she was back at the Last Hope's outpost, shying away from your presence in terror. Yet now, she is utterly relaxed in your presence.
'Like a stray feline.'
"Wolf?"
You are caught off-guard, hearing Blake call your name. Which you shouldn't be since you know well that she can speak simple words and even basic sentences. Yet…
"Where is… Weiss?"
All your thoughts come to a screeching halt at that question.
You try your best to explain it in the simplest words possible.
"Bad people took her."
"Bad people?" Blake parrots your words back. Yet she doesn't speak with the confused tone of someone failing to comprehend something. Rather she is simply asking for confirmation.
"Yes."
There is a bit of silence in which Blake stares into empty air with a frown. You can see the metaphorical gears turning in her head, fighting and struggling to find the correct words in her ravaged brain to express herself.
"Need… save Weiss… Weiss is… important."
Once again, you are caught off-guard. Even though her speech is halting, this is longer and more complex than any other sentence Blake has spoken since her rescue. Yet, it is the emotion behind those words that truly surprise you. There is care, worry, and longing in them that is in no way simple or animalistic.
"I know. She's important to me as well."
Blake turns her head to look at you. Staring into her amber eyes, you feel ashamed. No matter how she may act, Blake is no animal. Your first impression of her along with the way she acts around you has warped your perception of her. But now that you can get a glimpse of the person she is, you look back on all your previous interactions with her and see that same spark of humanity in her actions.
"Wolf help… save Weiss?"
You can't help but smile, seeing the determination in Blake's eyes. She is not asking you to save Weiss. She has already resolved to save her friend herself. She is simply asking you for help.
"We will save her."
Blake breaks the stare and lays her cheek back on your leg. Her legs curl up and she wraps her arms around her own chest. When she next speaks, it is with that certain mix of sad and hopeful tone of someone seeking assurance and comfort.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Satisfied, she closes her eyes.
On habit, your arm, the one she is sleeping under, goes for her head but you catch yourself before your fingers make contact with her silky black hair. You remind yourself that Blake is a person and not your pet. Yet, just as you are about to pull your hand back, she pushes her head against it in a silent demand.
You give in.
Your fingers gently comb through her hair and rub against her scalp. You watch over her in silence as her breaths deepen, her posture slackens and she slowly falls asleep.
Unlike the catgirl in your lap, you don't feel like sleeping yet. Even if you did, you doubt that you would be able to.…
Whenever you are idle, your thoughts stray to Weiss. Your mind, fueled by your worries and fears, comes up with worst-case scenarios that sap your patience and feedback into your existing fears and worries.
You need to find a distraction, something that will help you turn your brain off for a while.
Lifting your fingers from Blake's head, you gently flick one of the furry ears on top of her head. A slight twitch is your only response, convincing you that the catgirl is deep asleep. You grab the pillow from the end of the bed and with utmost care and gentleness you lift Blake's head then swap your leg with it.
Your leg freed and Blake still asleep, you get up from the bed. Moving as silently as possible, you take a blanket from your backpack and put it over the sleeping catgirl before grabbing one of your katanas and heading out.
You wander through the underground base in search of something, anything to do that will keep you busy.
In your search, you come across the training hall. It is one of the bigger excavated rooms you have come across and is split by an invisible line in the middle. One side is filled with weights and machines for body training. The other side is occupied by training dummies, practice mats, and a larger mat for sparring along with racks filled with wooden weapons set against the walls.
It is here that you find both Zena and Morena.
The latter is busy with one of the machines, working with weights.
Your ex-protege, on the other hand, is on a practice mat, practicing with her katana. You move to her side and watch as she goes through the steps of a familiar kata.
"You have improved a lot," you comment once she finishes her current set. Startled, Zena whirls around to face you, making you smirk. "Still have to work on that awareness."
"Captain," Zena greets, only the slight flush of her cheeks betraying her embarrassment.
"You know, I haven't held that rank for years now," you remind her.
She considers that for a moment. "Sensei then."
"if you are going to call me that, then I'll have to take on the responsibility," you tell her with an easy tone before making your way to the nearest weapon rack and grabbing two wooden swords. You toss one to your ex-protege who deftly catches it. "Feeling up for a spar?"
Excitement in her eyes answers your question before she does. "Yes."
You motion with your head toward the empty sparring mat. Without any word spoken, the two of you move onto the mat and take positions across each other. You take a moment to inspect Zena's stance and posture even as you take your own combat stance.
There are no calls of "ready" or "begin" between the two of you. You had done away with those when you started Zena on proper spars. The rule has been that the bout starts when your student takes her stance.
Whether you attack first or she does depends entirely on the whims and decisions of the two of you.
This time, it's Zena who decides to take the initiative.
Her movements are fast, fluid, and precise. What is more, she is decisive and quick on her feet. The two of you exchange blows for several moments before you attempt to open her guard with a surprise parry. She reacts immediately with zero hesitation, preventing you from locking the blades together and denying you the opportunity to combine your strength with leverage.
Impressed, you decide to increase the pressure. Zena finds herself forced into backfoot yet doesn't falter. Against your superior strength and reach, she uses every trick you taught her. She puts the strength of her whole body with her swings. She uses the energy of your strikes to launch disruptive counter swings. She uses nimble footwork to avoid blade locks.
It's a vast improvement from the girl you remember training.
After several intense bouts, you and Zena step off the sparring mat.
Two of you take a seat on the closest wooden bench and rest in silence for a while. You lean against the stone wall and feel the cool rock press into your back. Then you turn to your right and look at Zena who has leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees. Her ponytail has begun to unravel, loose locks of straw blonde hair dangling in front of her face.
"With those skills, they should've made you a Captain," you tell your ex-protege, impressed by her performance. She would've easily gone toe to toe with you back when you were her Captain and won half the time.
"You and I both know that promotions aren't given on merit alone, sensei," Zena responds with her eyes on the floor between her feet. Then she shrugs, "Not that it matters anymore."
You can tell from her tone that she doesn't hold any resentment or bitter feelings over that. Far from it in fact, as both her tone and posture scream nonchalance. Yet, the fact remains that Zena threw away her safety, security, and stability along with years of hard work just for your sake.
"I'm sorry… For forcing you to give it all up. If there had-"
"Don't," she cuts you off. She then sits up straight, looks you straight in the eye, and states, "I would have thrown it all away to follow you even if half the city wasn't after your head."
Her hazel orbs glimmer with her burning resolve.
"Evading pursuers among the dunes, sleeping out in the freezing cold, subsisting on nothing but fucking food cubes and travel rations…"
There is no doubt or uncertainty in her voice…
"Despite all that, I've felt more happy and alive these past days than I did in all the years since you left."
…only a hint of bitterness which creeps in toward the end.
You are left speechless.
You expected Zena to be angry at you for forcing her to abandon her life as a samurai. Yet, your short conversation has revealed a whole other issue, one which you aren't even sure how to tackle.
Before you can gather your composure and formulate a response, Zena stands up. "Thank you for the spar, Sensei. I think I'm gonna go now and get some sleep on an actual bed."
You open your mouth to speak but then think better of it. It's clear to you that Zena doesn't wish to continue the conversation. Besides, you also need to digest everything she told you and perhaps get some advice before attempting to mend things.
So you bid your student goodnight and watch her leave.
Your mind wanders back to the times when you were still a samurai. You remember your first meeting with Zena. She was one of the conscripts thrown into the desert patrol as cannon fodder. She was the youngest in the squad and bullied by her peers, at least until you took her under your wing.
She ended up being the only conscript to survive because of that.
A grunt brings you out of your recollection. Turning to your left, you find yourself staring at Morena's muscular abs. Turning your head up, you meet the shek warrior's level stare.
"Battlemaster, I wish to test myself against you."
Sparring against Morena is painful.
The shek warrior puts significantly more force behind each of her strikes to the point that any you fail to dodge or block would have led to a bruise or even a broken bone, if not for your aura. Compounding this is that Morena's stamina is much higher than a human's. Whereas you could outlast Zena or even Valentine, you can't do the same to her.
And of course, you spar against her after having taken on Zena for multiple rounds.
To top it all off, Morena seems to have learned from her previous spars with you. She no longer swings her weapons wildly and overextends with mindless aggression. Her attacks are much more measured and her movements are a lot more efficient.
You have to actually put effort into creating openings in her guard now.
It's a challenge you find yourself enjoying, especially since you don't have to pull back your own strikes due to the shek's durable body.
Morena takes far longer to satisfy compared to Zena, leaving you tired by the end. But it is the sort of pleasant tiredness you get after a good workout session.
The two of you wipe the sweat off your bodies before leaving the training hall together in search of refreshments. Grabbing a jug of water and a pair of foodcubes from the hideout's stocks, you and your shek follower settle down in an empty corner of the mess hall.
There isn't much conversation between you and Morena. The shek warrior isn't one to speak unless she feels there is a need for words and there isn't much that needs to be said between the two of you at this moment. She has resolved to follow you through whatever comes next.
Unlike Morena, you aren't reserved with your own words. Moreso, despite having faced death together, you still know little about the shek woman. Here and now, you have an opportunity to change that.
"You know, I don't know much about you," you state after emptying your cup of its contents.
Across the table, Morena's eyes rise from her cup to your face. "What do you wish to know?"
"Anything you are willing to share about yourself and your past?"
"There is not much worth speaking," she answers. It's obvious that she believes there is nothing to tell rather than this being an attempt by her to deflect your questioning. So you decide to prod her a little.
"What is your favorite color?"
She shrugs. "There isn't one."
"What about your favorite food?"
"Meat."
The conversation, if it can be even called such, continues between you and Morena continues like this for a while. You ask questions about her and her interests to which she replies with short, often one-word, answers. For anyone unfamiliar with Sheks, Morena would come off as disinterested. But you can recognize the famed Shek disposition for stoicism.
"Tell me about your family," you finally ask.
For the first time since this conversation began, Morena's face shows emotion. It's difficult to decipher the exact emotion from the shek's facial features, but if asked, you would say she looks melancholic.
"My mother was a warrior and I never knew my father. According to her, they were comrades. When she got pregnant, mother was forced to return to Squin where she gave birth to me," she states. Then a moment passes in silence. You begin to think that is all you are getting when Morena continues, "She took care of me until I could talk, run, and fight, then left for the front lines. When I grew big enough to become a warrior, the war with the Holy Nation had ended, and mother was dead."
Morena's recollection of her childhood makes you think of your own.
You wonder what it is like to have a parent. While you know what a parent is, or rather is supposed to be, you didn't have any parents when you were a child. The closest you had was that old Samurai who had shared his food with you and taught you how to defend yourself.
So, you can't reliably judge whether Morena's mother was a good or a bad parent. But you think she was a good one. She had cared enough to raise her daughter and didn't seem to demand or expect anything from Morena in return.
"Do you miss your mother?" you ask.
"She resides beyond the Gateway, feasting at Kral's table."
Perhaps for a Shek, who all aspire to earn their place at Kral's side in their afterlife, that would be enough. Yet you can see the wistful look in Morena's eyes. Looking at her, you can't help but think that her response was intended to placate the longing in her own heart just as much as to satisfy your curiosity.
Unfortunately, you find yourself ill-equipped to help. The only idea that comes to your mind is to grab some alcohol and get both Morena and yourself drunk but that's something you can't afford to do in your current situation.
Besides, Morena and Shek in general do not express sadness like humans do. They don't cry, or visibly show their grief, or even talk it out with others.
In the end, you simply sit with her in silence until Morena reasserts her stoic self.
When you return to your room, you find Blake curled up under the blanket, still asleep.
Fortunately, your room has an extra bed since you figured that Blake would be sleeping in the same room as you. You take off your shirt and then the weapon belt along with your sword in its scabbard. You place down the sheathed sword, still affixed to the discarded belt, next to the empty bed before laying down on the mattress.
Tired both physically and mentally, you manage to fall asleep… But your sleep is neither peaceful nor restful.
You dream of Rem.
She is on the ground, with a bloody wound on her chest. You rush to her side and drop to your knees, splashing the blood pooled around her body. She reaches toward you with a shaking hand and you grasp the dainty appendage in your own. In her teary eyes, you see fear and pain. She opens her mouth to speak but only blood passes from her lips, expelled by a single cough that wracks her whole body.
You can't save her.
The wound in her chest is fatal. There is nothing you can do but watch as Rem's struggles grow weaker and weaker until she goes limp after letting out one last shuddering breath.
Then the sky blue hair turns snow white in color as it grows longer. Rem's face begins to shift, her soft and round features giving way to sharper, more refined ones. Her eyes retain their color, but they narrow and become sharper.
A thin, faint scar appears over her left eye, marring the smooth, pale skin.
You look down in horror at the corpse of Weiss Schnee.
Her eyes, dull and lifeless, stare back at you.
You bolt up from the bed with a gasp.
It takes a moment for your breathing to even out. You run a hand through your hair, feeling the cold sweat run down your back. The mattress under you is also damp with sweat, making you feel glad that you didn't go to sleep in your only shirt.
Realizing you won't be getting any sleep soon, you rise from the bed. Checking on Blake, you see that she is still asleep before heading out of the room once again.
It's then you discover a big downside of this underground base. It is the lack of easy access to fresh air along with the sight of the endless night sky and free space to roam. Your surroundings don't help with your current state of mind either.
It hadn't bothered you before, but now the network of narrow tunnels looks especially cramped. You can't help but feel constricted and trapped. Rather than wandering around aimlessly and making it worse, you lean your back against the wall, close your eyes, and take deep breaths to get your nerves under control.
"Can't sleep?" you hear a familiar, husky voice ask.
Opening your eyes, you find Valentine standing before you. Her mask is missing, allowing you to see her full lips and the scar crossing them on the left side. Her single, blood-red eye gazes impassively at you. You notice the waterskin in her hand when she offers it to you. You accept and drink from it, gulping down cool, refreshing water until it is emptied. Then you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and return the waterskin before answering her question.
"Yeah."
"I've something in my room that can help with that," she offers with an even voice.
"That sounds good."
You push away from the wall and follow after Valentine. It is a short walk to her room, which turns out to be a bit more furnished than yours. There is a foldable chair along with a small table set up in the corner opposite her bed. You spy a device on top of the table, some sort of portable stove from the looks of it with a metal pitcher placed on top.
Valentine seats you on her bed before moving to the table, coincidentally giving you a clear view of her rear. It is a distracting view, allowing you to simply turn your brain off and appreciate the sight while she works.
Eventually, she turns around, holding in her hands two clay mugs filled with steaming liquid. She offers one of them to you before grabbing the empty chair with her freed hand and taking a seat across from you.
You bring the mug up to your lips and take a small sip. A bitter taste fills your mouth causing your face to scrunch up. A warmth begins to spread through your body as the drink makes its way down your throat. After taking a couple more sips, your mind begins to clear and your nerves settle down.
Raising your eyes from the mug cradled in your hands, you look at Valentine. "Never took you for a tea person."
"I'm not," she admits. "Easter, one of my coworkers, possesses an unnecessary amount of knowledge about teas and I absorbed some of it through osmosis."
There is a hint of annoyance in Valentine's voice. Yet knowing her, she wouldn't have spent so much time in Easter's company if she didn't enjoy it, definitely not long enough to pick up second-hand knowledge of her coworker's hobbies.
You nod before taking another sip from your mug, letting the warmth chase the last lingering effects of the nightmare you had. Tea isn't one of your preferred drinks either: too expensive with little taste. That said, you can't deny whatever Valentine has prepared is effective.
Turning your attention back to her, you let your eyes rest on your…
Friend?
Ally? Lover?
You realize you never really put a name on the relationship between you and Valentine. What started as a simple 'beneficial agreement based on mutual attraction' has grown into something much more complex and intimate. It's something that neither you nor Valentine cared to define and you have simply come to accept the last hope operative as someone you can trust to have your back in any situation.
And surprisingly enough, Valentine has not let you down.
"What are we?" you softly speak, breaking the comfortable silence which existed the moment prior.
Valentine responds with a curious look, raising a single, questioning eyebrow.
"I mean, what we have between you and me," you try to explain. You are hesitant to speak the next question, mostly because you know it will put you on a collision course with Valentine. Yet, you muster your courage, deciding that it needs to be voiced.
"Are we lovers?"
Valentine remains silent for a moment, staring at you with her lone, blood-red eye. There is no clue or hint on her face as to what she is thinking. You wait patiently until she responds.
"What do you think?"
"I think we are," you admit, feeling unsure. You feel that you are too intimate with Valentine to be just friends, but you can't also say for sure that she feels the same as you. It's why you want to clarify what's between the two of you. "And I want to know what you think as well."
Valentine lets out a sigh. "I think you're needlessly complicating things," she says, giving off an air of boredom and apathy. "We're what we are. But if you need to put a label on what's between us, then go ahead."
"That's not- I'm just trying to understand where we stand with each other!"
"What's so hard to understand?" she asks.
You hold yourself back from answering.
There are lots of things you don't understand about her. Why is she here, ready to risk her own life to help you when she should have returned to her group? Why is she so insistent on keeping you at a distance despite going so far for your sake? Why is she being evasive instead of giving you a straight answer?
"I'm here to help you rescue Weiss," she continues once it becomes obvious that you are not taking the bait. "And when she is safely back in your arms, we'll part ways."
Then she rises up from her seat. With the confined quarters you two are in, it doesn't even take her a full step before she is upon you. She places her hands on your shoulders and pushes you against the wall, bending down and leaning over you in the process. You get a perfect view of her bountiful cleavage straining against the cloth shirt she is wearing as she stares you down.
"Until then, you can treat me however you wish. Keep me at an arms-length or hold me close, it's up to you."