The liquid slid past my tongue and down my throat, leaving a light sting in its wake. I'd not appreciated the estranged familiar inherit within my treasured black flask, probably a near worthless trinket in the hands of any other. Less than half of the amber alcohol was left inside, a stupid sentimental part of me had got the idea in my head to never allow it to empty. That if I kept refilling it with cheap rum that I'd manage to hold onto another shred of home.

Truthfully?

I fucking hate cheep beer, however I'm out of options at this point. Damn thing stopped tasting anywhere close to the same quite a while ago, but I suppose that comes part and parcel with what I was trying to do.

"puw," I released a soft chuff into the afternoon air, and the light trickling of water came back into focus. The soaked white ropes belonging to the priest working beside me appeared before my peripheral, pouring purified water into a barrel.

Sizzling silver hummed in my ear, reminiscent of the plague of mosquitoes that would've assaulted me around this time of year back home. Of other chores and odd jobs that my family had dragged me off to do, some were a bore and others so tiresome as expected from setting up a whole house. Resting in the summer sun, or at least trying to escape its wrath for a few minutes.

There had only been cheap beer back then too.

An idle thought crossed my mind, a minor correction at my previous sentiment. 'More so cold drinks in general, I wasn't old enough for alcohol for most of those projects.' The little observation made me chuckle to myself, worsening the all too sober realization that I was experiencing. Pain that stretched out for what felt like eternity, my bones shocked from underneath my skin and the liquid within the flask held in my hands dropped to ze-

pat~

My downward emotional spiral shattered instantly upon physical contact, the friendly gesture sending a load of adrenaline through my veins. It took an non-insignificant amount of willpower to dispel the mana that had gathered my grasp in under a split second. The glare I gave the priest crossed the language barrier if the sheepish look that I got back meant anything. It probably didn't help that I was holding up pulsing light from within my clenched fist that I'd raised, ready to cast.

I released a breath that I'd been keeping after the man backed up to give me some space, one that I chased away by taking another deep drink. Letting the bitter taste in my mouth chip ebb, my thoughts swirled together in my head. With an arm outstretched to the man. I offered him a drink from my flask, "One for you."

"One for me," Rolling his eyes at me, anxiety that supplied such tension in the air soon flowed out after taking a sip from the keepsake. Numbness leaked from my fingertips, the tension in my hand vanished only to be replaced by a dull tv level static.

"One for all," I giggled, taking the flask back to swish what liquid remained in the container for added theatrics. A hint of mania spilled into my laughter, leaving a ghost of a smile upon my lips as I glanced at the writing etched onto the flask. Only a few words that brought on a whole host of memories, 'Will You Be My Groomsman?'

Being able to joke like this again, god, it feels good in a way that words would never be able to convey. Taking the piss out of Christophe had quickly become a favored hobby of mine, the man took to lecturing captive roadside bandits as if he were my preacher. You'd think bandits would think twice about attacking an armed caravan, apparently not.

Does feel nice to not have to pull security for once.

Hah, could've played the part of security had I gone to the wedding in this state. Not that my brother needed that sort of help, can say that anyone ever had a bone to pick the guy.

Probably would've tased the man if only to get him to stop monologuing, it was lucky that his voice was smooth and rich enough for me to tolerate. My brother would've liked him, the imagery of the two manlets was crystal clear in my mind.

"sSNORT," It was an unsightly noise that came out of me, one made in an attempt to maintain composure despite the good cheer. Salazar dropped down to take a seat beside me, releasing a groan from allowing his body a moment's rest.

We'd been busy purifying water all morning.

It sounds boring, and it is, but it was either do this or dip into our alcohol reserves.

Never went super heavy into med classes while I was in college, more of a mechanics person myself, and I had dropped out of this semester anyway. . . That said, I still knew enough that relying on a drunken band of misfits only slighting better than my former dorm-mates wasn't the best idea. I also refused to allow the kids to get their hands on hard drink to stay hydrated.

If I could get them some juice boxes I would. . God, juice boxes, really? They're like. . . ten, I think? Ugh, this is why I'm single and why I shouldn't have children.

Regardless, I can't afford to let these morons get wasted on the job or railed by dysentery. Such is the reason behind me accompanying the only other magic user in our little entourage, imagine my surprise when I discovered that there are apparently two ways to purify water with magic.

Admittedly, the Salazar made me feel like a cheap Chinese knock off of a mage when we started to get to work near the waterfall here. Holding his hands up to the edge with a barrel lying underneath to catch the purified water, palms buzzing with white light that sparkled in the sunlight. Or that may have just been a trick of the light, though a more sensible part deep within the depths of my brain hummed at the presence of ignited mana.

Certainly seemed to do the trick though.

Simple boiling had been the approach that I'd taken, hadn't really had the stamina to keep up a spell like the priest appeared to be versed in. The method was slower, but in the weeks that I first became acquainted with magic, using the ability to make campfires seemed like good practice at the time. Took me a hot minute to copy the energy signature, felt a bit like finding the right frequency in the batman Arkham games.

Never thought I'd miss gaming till the sun comes up.

"Pah," Releasing a small huff to break the albeit comfortable silence between us, my joints cracked as I rose to my feet. Brushing off imaginary dust from my robes, I stowed the near empty flask to get a firm grip on the kegs that we'd filled.

"I'm going to go grab some of the [others] to take the water back," Salazar turned to address me as he stood up, tapping the lid to one of the kegs with his healing staff. Forgoing the attempt to carry the containers full of water, and I probably would've been in the same predicament months ago. Course that was then, and this is now. He swung around to finish off his instructions before leaving, "Just sit tight [alright]-"

"MMhhmm," Groaning as I did so, the handles belonging to two kegs creaked as they were simultaneously lifted into the air. Fighting the odd bandit here and there certainly proved to be a viable replacement for the gym. Even if it was more bloody, it sure beats a gym membership. With a hint of sass to my voice I responded. "No-pe."

"Oh. . ." The priest squinted at me, eyeing the assortment of barrels waiting and ready to be transported. Mulling over the situation inside of his head he nodded in my direction, joining me as we made our way back to camp. The other four kegs left to be collected once we'd returned with some help, "That works too I [suppose], just be [careful] with them and take a break if you need to [adjust] your grip. I'll be right back with some, [reluctant helpers] in a few [minutes]."

The sensation of adrenaline, or at least the strength I associated with pushing myself buzzed in my veins.

And yet, my heart dared not beat too quickly.

How strange.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Aside from the random incident to break up the monotony, my days had become a cycle broken up by sleep.

These fucking rascals constantly challenged me over that assumption.

"I should've sent you to permanently be with your parents in the forever after," I muttered under my breath, clutching both sides of the head belonging to one of the wolf pups. Little bugger once again scratched at my legs to climb up high enough to lick my face, squirming in my grip to escape and do. The puppy had extended its head and tongue trying to lick my face even from its trapped place between my two hands when I raised the creature up to my face. "You're lucky that you little fuckers are so cute."

I let myself collapse onto the bench beside Anna, unceremoniously dropping the juvenile wolf back onto the floor. Campfire raging in the background as the puppy clambered back on to its feet, releasing a light 'yip!' at being dumped onto the ground.

"Aww," Anna wore a cheeky grin, handing me her mug as she sent a hand through the animal's ears. One's too big for the puppy's tiny frame. Taking the cup into my hands and up to my nose, it soon became clear that it held a hint of honey. "How can you be so mean to her Adolf, she loves you! Hey you go, your a good girl aren't you?~"

Tilting my head back as I idly listened to Anna. I took a drink, "Hhmhmm."

The redhead gave me a blank stare, one that I returned in the form of a smallest of shit eating grins.

She swiped the cup from me whilst in the middle of taking a second sip from her cup, and I quite literally bit down on my tongue to refrain from pissing her off. Who am I kidding, the alcohol I'd been in the middle of downing came back up as I let out a rough cackle at the whole thing. Being of the opinion that it had been entirely worth it.

Truly, I've suffered a loss unlike any other.

"[Damnit] Adolf. You know that you [could've] just asked," Anna huffed as she took back her drink, downing a large portion of it once it was back into her possession. Letting out a brief snort, I kicked my feet up to be closer to the fire and rolled my eyes at the young woman. "Bring your own booze next time if [you're] just going to steal a drink from under my nose. And to think that I [bothered] to grab an extra beer for you."

Twisting her . Leaning over to me briefly, yet long enough for me to catch a whiff of the thick presence of alcohol on her breath.

She's an angel, a damn angel sent from above I say! One of the penny pinching money grubbing variety, but still, an angel all the same.

"No fun in that," My response was placating, no small amount of mischievous intention lingered on the words I spoke to her. She didn't seem too annoyed by my actions, feeling the buzz travel down my throat as I looked over at her forced me to really see her under new light. I hoped that she could parse through my intention into my genuine gratitude, as uncomfortable as speaking about my feelings might make me feel at times. Her assistance had been invaluable, "Anna, tha-anks."

Blaming a language barrier of all things seemed like a cop out, but I was more than willing to cash such an excuse in until I got more settled in. This whole fucking mess had been anything but normal, even so, it was nice to relax as if it was. To pretend.

I'd have to get her something nice as a thank you, better than empty words anyhow.

We entered a sort of comfortable silence after that, sat close by one of three fires that had been set up. It was technically dinnertime, or supper, or something. Christophe was cooking today I think, probably shouldn't have grabbed some food to offset the alcohol, but I'd not felt up to the task at the time. The girls joined us later, the puppies tired and fed as they napped at our feet, while the twins danced around talking with me. Going through Anna as their inbetween to request that I reheat the food they allowed to go cold. With the fire popping healthy, we left to get some food of our own. Both of us had decided to refill our drinks, though Anna seemed to almost be swaying on her feet by the end of it. Waving me off when I offered a hand, a trick of the light she assured me.

She didn't seem so eager to shoo me away when she saw me chill my own drink, "Nice trick, you mind?"

"Tada~," There wasn't much to say, ice cubes were the least I could do really, but if the look Anna gave me was anything to go by. . . Well, there's a certain bliss that can only be obtained through a cold drink for a sweltering night. Sometimes I wondered whether strange weather was typical for this 'place', it should've been springtime right about now. Felt like spring at least.

Using magic for alcohol though?

Well, conjuring dry ice from thin air was surprisingly tedious, but doable in practice. Straight up dropping the temperature of an object without creating ice was still beyond me, even if I felt like I was close to figuring it out.

It was amusing, chasing away sobriety had only ever been really palatable to me in the weeks that I'd first spent alone in this land. A real funny feeling snuck into my chest in keeping an eye on how alcohol might change me, sneaking up and loosening the bolts on my temper so to speak. With each day that came to pass, ignoring the pull magic had over me became more and more preferable.

No small or easy task to ignore. Magic that lingered was magic that festered, and that led toward unstable magic. I'd experimented a tad, and the result had not been pretty. Necessitating a vulnerary levels of bad, but simply bringing magic forth to be used had become distracting since that point. And experimenting while drunk had been worse, brief, but definitely worse.

Doing so made me feel diminished, like putting together a spell required taking myself apart to fuel the process. Prolonging a spell only made the nausea, for lack of a better word, worse than if I were to follow through with an intended target. Using a tome seemed to help with the strange yet non-physical sensation, lessening the load for a few castings. Ironically, squeezing mana between my fingers seemed the best way to shape my perception of such foreign energy. My hands acting as a focus for magic that my body could only see as a threat, such a conclusion was the only one that made sense.

There was no easy way to clean off the filth off of my hands, not when practicing just made them dirty all over again.

The kids had come back to roost, choosing to take our place when we left to eat and talk with the others. The puppies finally tired themselves out, and all three of them curled up in a cuddle pile to sleep the rest of the night away.

Neither we're wearing either article of clothing that I'd lent them prior, but that was to be expected with how much warmer the days and nights had become lately. Anna had gotten Burni a sunhat in the time since then, the shy girl didn't venture out far without us, but she still made good use of it. Edi just seemed to have gotten into the habit of cutting her hair short, a task I had helped her with to stay one step ahead of the heat. Anna had complained about it being a waste.

Both of the kids swarmed Anna when we approached, a sea of quickened chatter that I failed to keep up with. I'd not been of much help, but I'd like to think they'd appreciate having some people looking out for them. Anna had more they could benefit from aside from killing. A similar case occurred with other subjects they needed help with more often than you'd think.

The pups training was simple by comparison.

I wasn't particularly close to either of the girls, couldn't really say that we had much time to bond in whatever form such a thing ought to take. Well, Edi and I had achieved some sort of understanding, which is more than I can say in the case of her more anxiety ridden sister.

I'm not good with kids, never have been. Did my best, just hoped that keeping them alive up till now would've been enough. Kinda hoped that I died, at least that made things simple and not left me with such a strange ache in my chest. My old man would've just told me to walk it off, and Mom always said that idle hands lead to the devil's mischief.

Too late for that Ma, can't run from what I fucked up.

.

. .

. . .

. .

.

Christophe makes quite the sight for sore eyes.

Not so much for my ears.

"Why in the seven hells did you bring an [imperial princess] upon your house [Christophe]," My thoughts drifted as my fingers turned the pages to my wind tome, half paying attention to the conversation taking place around me. Working on my understanding of the written word took a higher priority. While I'd gotten good at picking up on spoken social engagements, even my limited experience was nowhere close to the two nobles who seemed intent on speaking in riddles. Christophe had managed to turn the talk into a quick ordeal rather than one littered with prose, and for that I was grateful. Didn't solve the matter of his grandmother not liking me, "This is too far, too [foolish] even for you dear. If THIS [Magical] has put you up to [something] you need not [concern]-"

Maybe I thought politics would be different here, simpler and more black or white given the scenery that I'd grown accustomed to. I hadn't really considered how much this world would differ from mine, there had been far more important things. Suppose it's on me for assuming so little of a video game esk fever dream. . . Fuck!

The small pinprick of mana that I'd been channeling fizzled out of existence, the written runes on the pages of my tome suddenly ceased to cast a reflection. A flash of rage consumed my vision, the feeling quickly smothered in its infancy before it could take root.

"She was in [desperate] need, it makes no [difference] that it would be more [convenient] to [ignore] her pleas now! Time is not [something] that they have to spare," Christophe made his retort, slamming his hands onto the surface of her mahogany table. Sheepishly brushing off the dent left in the wood at his grandmother's disappointed glance before she took a sip from her tea. "Apologies. Adolf is a mage with far more valor than all of [Count Varley's] thugs [combined], more than I [rightly expected] from one like him to be [enlisted before] the crown."

My gaze shifted throughout the table we were sat, closer to a fancy outside patio table in truth. The estate that belonged to the lady of the house was a grand place, a castle built upon a hill overlooking the rest of the city and the walls protecting it. His grandmother sure knew how to pick good reestate. How was I so certain of their relation? The two bore the sort of regalia, with the same crest depicted on one of Christophe's pauldrons and on a small silver brooch pinned on her collar.

The odd symbol was also depicted all over the walls of the manor that we passed through, it's hard to miss. I returned to the task of trying to fiddle with my own mana while keeping part of my brain tuned into their conversation.

"Child, the fact still stands that to allow her the [benefit] of our [protection] would carry [repercussions]. Her [highness] is lucky to have your new friend at her [beckoning]," His grandmother's expression lightened as she idle gazed at the expanse gardens surrounding us, while they hadn't been a full garrison, but the sparse guards patrolling the streets gave off a certain impression. At her assertion I gave her a curt nod as my own form of acknowledgement, "But, [humanity] must fall in favor of our [greater sensibilities], or the aims of the [counciluate] will be our [damned torment. Attention] we shall [surely receive] if you keep [bragging] to every [barmaid willing] to lend you an ear."

'Arianrhod' had turned out to be a fortress city, a more intimidating destination once I realized what having a spiked square next to a name meant on my map. There wasn't much of the city to take not of from the outside, aside from the moat, towering walls that went 30 feet high, and smaller castle housed within. I overheard something about house or noble something relating to Christophe alongside someone called 'Eveline'.

Marchioness Eveline von Gaspard, as Salazar so fancifully put it her full title, had assigned us an escort when we arrived. The lady had us meet them a ways down the road in front of the city gates before we had even gotten close enough to line up to enter the city limits. It was a small entourage of perhaps a dozen cavaliers that met us halfway, while the noblewoman herself was sat at a table outside a bustling restaurant. Silk robes with an amber sash wrapped around her chest, silver hair with a touch of teal had been tied up into a braided bun. Springtime sun shone against a bronze circlet adorned upon her head, the bags underneath her eyes denoting no ignorance behind its weight.

The imagery of Christophe's odd half cape coming to mind, my wandering eye trying to find anything more interest than the bickering. Part of me made the link to Chrom and Emmeryn, though this was not quite like that. His grandmother had been a treat to meet, a graying old matron who happened to rule the area with an iron cane.

Words spoken by them held a certain steely determination that I couldn't imagine belonging to those royal siblings. It felt closer to the tone Fates carried when I once played through that game, and that worried me.

And so, we had left to speak with her at the behest of her guard captain. Well, Christophe dragged me along more like, but who's counting?

"[Grandmother], please! Come on I'm not that bad [anymore]," Christophe attempted a pitiful defense of his own past, and while the details of his embarrassment were beyond me. The second hand embarrassment was simple to understand. but I managed to keep a hold the spell I'd been attempting to craft. Unfortunately a muffled snort did get through given my own first hand experience with the man in taverns, "Gah, don't [encourage] her Adolf! Who's side are you on [anyway]?"

My vision swam, drowned in a brief haze before I reigned in my magic. Something on the edge of my understanding came into range, and where my spell should've gotten back a 'dot'. Instead, my feedback came in the form of a 'dash'.

"Oh," Sucking in a nervous breath, a small grin played out upon my lips to keep the conversation going and buy time for me to process. An unsure one at that as I fully tuned them out in favor of chasing down my odd feeling brushing up against my soul. The Zephyr tome in front of me snapped shut to fully devote my attention, "The fun side."

Everything was just fine-

Oh. . .

Oh no.

"[Sothis] damn it Adolf. You [aren't helping]," Christophe spit out a frustrated sounding complaint, stuck with what sounded like straws left to grasp at. As much as I'd liked to add to the conversation, the prickling at the back of my brain had become impossible to ignore. I stepped out of my seat as Christophe spoke, "They're a bunch of [cowardly dastards], and even if the church won't push back [against] them [because] of their [useless pacifism]. We can [handle] them alone, it's [nothing] my men, nor any of us [haven't] dealt with [before]."

The air buzzed from my mana lighting up the space between me and the subject of my concern, a barely tangible amount of focussed energy searching. Signals from the area I focused my efforts returned to me with no issue, as if nothing but a simple had been standing there. The young man staring at us from behind the cover of the ever shifting crowds, it was decent concealment if I wasn't keeping an eye out.

Problem was he wasn't a tree. This needed to be dealt with, now.

How the hell am I supposed to get them to understand, damnit, this might not be anything worth getting concerned over. Ah, fuck it! Bringing the cup of tea up to my lips I finished the thing in a single go before speaking up.

"As much as I love this talk of ours, now is not the best time. My eyes and ears do find that my time here has left me with some acts to do now. But," It was probably the longest period of time I'd ever spoken to someone here, trying desperately to keep a level tone as I was freaking the fuck out inside. Christophe had become accustomed to my odd habits, a hand already on his ax to be ready at a moment's notice. He needed a reminder more than I of his assistance with this, "I will be back in some time soon. No need to help me with this mere task. Sing your words as if you were to best till the time I come back Chris-tophe, and I too bid you well Lady Gas-pard."

The noblewoman had practically snapped to attention, not quite shaken but clearly aware that the air around me had been tense compared to before. Both to different degrees held faces with questions on their lips, but refrained from prolonging me any more than they had to. As a testament to her noble birth and tutelage, Lady Gaspard replied to my request with the grace denoting her station. Words strung together with the tone denoting a professional's and with naught but a hint of heat, "[Settle] your [business] mage, do so [quickly] and [quietly]."

Giving as deep of a bow to both of them without drawing any more attention than the conversation suddenly cutting out might have caused, I left them to continue my search. My fingers flexed, and my grip on the spell I'd been casting tightened, leaving my hair to stand up.

It was glorified rader truthfully, and the technique doesn't work so well when you're trying to be subtle about it. Fortunately I knew what to look for.

What I wouldn't pay to know the hidden details to magic, the gains that would come from the work of others that had already toiled away at this shit. Individual benefit from collective work would have benefited me immensely, double checking my own assumption on magic had become tiresome after I'd mastered the fundamentals.

Humans make absolutely dogshit rader dishes, the reception is terrible to be frank, and the information that works its way back is so much worse. So I've had to make some shortcuts, and given that my body potentially lacks the same magical receptors or sensors that the native might have. My progress needed to be done carefully too.

Needless to say that my first course of attention was to grab a crepe, or whatever passes for a snack in this part of the city. An excuse to get closer was the only thing I needed.

Shoving mana into places that I really shouldn't, had been fun for as long as two minutes, and after just a chore. I don't think my body is able to do anything but reject mana like a bad organ transplant. The first time I infused mana to reach enhanced sensory abilities had left me sore all over, not to mention that I'm also a light sleeper. Getting chased after my self inflicted headache had been a horror show.

Hence, incredibly dense mana bursts that could flood an area, and depending on how much of the energy makes its way back to me. Little blips that shone with life in many directions, the speed and force behind them denoting distance and other pieces of information. Blah blah blah, its bargain bin magical rader and far much more complicated to actually implement in praxis. In a fight, it's useless, but pretty good at giving me a rough head count and placement of all the living creatures around me ahead of time. The perfect anti-ambush tool.

The stall was out the way, directly connected to the bakery that lay behind the saleswoman manning it. An alley cut into the line of buildings right next to it. With no pictures or listed prices to go off of, I just gestured at a macaron on display and handed over enough gold to cover the cost.

"Tsk," A fleck of heat born of my irritation slipped past my lips, prompted by the thought of how much a simple confectionery had cost me. Fuck me, 17 coins! Might as well just get a whole loaf of bread at this point.

Course I try to avoid using the default pulse in polite society, people haven't reacted to it, but the birds always scatter when I use it. Not to mention, the puppies had collectively whimpered in pain when I let one off with them close by. Rather not sonar some poor animal to death by accident if I could avoid it. All in all, it had proven to be a bit of ah, work in progress sort of project.

An additional pulse revealed that our stalker had taken my bait, and was closing in behind me. Yet not close enough for me to confront, so I took a turn to head for the alley with the intention of cutting off his ability to track me. Luring him closer to keep up.

Close enough to make out details now, one that did little to comfort my beating heart. Though the hairs on the back of my neck had settled from my sixth sense going off, the rest of my body tensed in preparation. My breath ached inside of my chest as I pressed myself against the wall, hidden deeper in the alley with frost being emitted from my lips.

The once shattered knife I kept reappeared in my hands, lighter yet just as whole than it used to be before the blade had melted away. What had worked once held precedent to work again, the afternoon sun coating the alley in shadow seemed to do little to truly keep me hidden. Emerald eyes locked onto mine as the man- no boy stepped into view, looking around in an ansty fashion before turning around in a huff. I had hesitated too long, and my shock officially overstayed its welcome.

It was over in an instant, and while most of the advantage from an ambush had been lost. I still happened to be the faster one. The boy released a groan that sounded like it belonged to an older man, or from someone half asleep. I had expected a pained yelp from the kick I sent into his chest. He made an attempt to stand before my forearm dug into his neck and my magically reforged knife leaned against his bare cheek.

He was shorter than I thought he'd be.

My lung was burning with the air stuck, greedily burning away while my racing heart failed to settle. Laying dazed against the brick wall, the kid's raging headache had given my own rage time to cool off. Remarkably similar to my nephew, and yet the differences shone through in the end. Case in point, gray hair usually only comes in with age, and certainly not looking like that.

"Talk," My tone was probably harsher than I'd like, a residual bit of unreasonable hate seemed to linger at the flood of memories. I buried them, a child he may be but this place had never been above involving the young and naive. Either as bait or recruits. I needed to know if he was alone or not, "Are you lone, and why are you here?"

We'd been out here long enough for the sun to shift over far enough to shine onto us, and the ice that I'd conjured to replace my melted blade flashed briefly under the solar spotlight. The kid was still out of it, but that made the perfect combination for my 'charismatic words' to entrench themselves. Evidently, it seemed to do the trick to compel the child to speak with little resistance pushing against my mana. Finally granting me the magically induced confession I'd been looking for, "Uugggh, n-no one sent me. . . I heard that my [brother] was [returning], and I [wished] to [uncover] your true [intentions] by [following] you."

I'd love to say that hypnosis or mind control was something that I was capable of doing, such feats were beyond me. And considering what information I'd managed to scrape together about how magic functioned, likely also impossible in the metaphysical sense. It was simply easier to use social engineering to make people tell on themselves, not my fault superstitious criminals made assumptions when foreign magical energy flooded their bodies.

Generally I didn't tend to get much mileage out of it, but what I managed to sparse from his answer concerned me. Honestly, that damn spell was more or less a glorified shot of magical adrenaline for all it was worth, but in this case it helped me uncover something that the kid had refrained from divulging. The relative ease with which he was able to respond despite pushing against his throat was the first clue.

Not taking a single breath in over a minute was what truly unnerved me.

"Who sent you? Who made you? What do you want?" Barely restrained, a rush of queries dug into the child's frame. A temporary resistance that he managed to conjure up shattered in an instant, his eyes dilated as his body continued to recover from my injection of mana. My last question echoed inside of my mind as the one that I had actually wanted to ask from the very beginning, ". . .What are you?"

"No one. . . [Nothing]. . . I'm [nothing]," The kid ended up being more cognizant than before, even if the hazy look in his eyes remained. I might have hit him a tad too hard in retrospect if the soul searching look on his face meant anything. His answers rolled out gradually without my forearm bearing down on his chest, "But a [monster] that Lord [Gaspard decided] to [offer] me a [second chance] that I don't [deserve]. . . I don't know why."

Gaspard, gaspard . . . where have I heard that word before. . . gas-

oh

"Gah! This was," A point blank pulse revealed what I already knew, an incomprehensible amount of dread stifled my bones as failing to detect a heartbeat. The veil of professionalism was getting harder to maintain with the hairs at the back of neck refusing to go down while we stared at each other. Trying desperately to hide the hint of mania threatening to invade the tone of my words, "A bad way to meet, my name is A'dolf. You?"

Just, God, Fuck, please don't be who I think you are. Please, please, please!

"Ashe," The kid lacked understanding, whatever had sent my mind racing at least seemed to be unintentional on his part. Despite knowing better. It didn't do much to stop my traitorous eyes from wandering from his eyes down to his teeth, "My [name's] Ashe, [please]. [Accept] my most [sincerest] of [apologies], I [shouldn't've] made [assumptions] about you sir mage."

FUCK!

. . .

Shit.

Focus, alright damage control.

"[Please] don't tell Christophe about this," The boy ended his speech with a sheepish look, one so reminiscent of the sort that Christophe would occasionally express. Relief can do wonders for stress, and my knees almost collapsed from under my own weight at the kid's nervous request.

Said relief was diminished in part by the boy's honest and wide smile, bearing canines large enough to be mistaken for fangs.

"Only if you do the same for me," Internally I was screaming, but shared a reassuring grin born of our mutual embarrassment to mask the sentiment. Pushing to try and get us out of this dark isolated alley as soon as possible, "Will you come with me? I am sure that he will like to see you, he has told me a lot of good when we came to talk of you."

"He has? N-no. I can't," Ashe's tone had become unbelievable, skeptical but eager for some morsel of truth that I might share with him. Both parts of me, the wary and sympathetic, both stopped arguing to hear him be done speaking.

"It's not my place, I've [already] asked his [family] for too much that I don't [rightly deserve]. It [would] not be fair, nor by any means just. . . I'm sorry."

What is it about this place that makes me stumble upon kids with issues so often. God, if I had a nickel for everytime that happened. . .

"Do not be. Chris-tophe is fond of war, but he has been at his best when he acts for your good and for the weak too. For now our path is one in the same," Ashe had just been a bit strange for a kid, but that didn't justify being so rapidly accepting of the need to kill him. In the end I recognized that he needed my advice more than I did breathing room, "He held my fate in his palm one day, and kept it from any harm. Side by side we have been many a week before I met you. Why do you hide from him like this, when it will lend less hurt to him to be with him now?"

"Hah, you're [probably] right about that. . . Yeah," The noises from the noisy street seemed so much more lively as the kid spoke, settling on his decision to accompany me. He offered a bow to me with a wave for me to go before himself, "[Father] would [definitely] be [pissed] if I ran off at this point with the [market] being as busy as it is. I guess that I can count on you and Christophe to cover for me right?"

"You need not even ask," Ashe's head popped up beside me at my reassurance, loudly releasing a sigh of relief as he kept pace. My pulses didn't reveal much in the end, leaving me with further questions as to how Christophe's kid brother had managed to replace his innate mana signature with one akin to that of a tree.

The walk back was a stiff one, the baked treat I had stuffed down my throat earlier sitting at the bottom of my stomach like a stone. God, why couldn't you have been less embarrassed and chosen to walk ahead of me.

I'm no coward when it comes to pain, but I still wanted this to be over with as soon as possible.

"[Dammit Christophe], could you stop [trying] to [provoke] the [counciluate] for once in your life. It's not worth the [trouble]! [However tragic] this all may be, the best case would be to take them back to the [Emperor]."

Thankfully, Christophe came to the rescue as always. Even if inadvertently so.

"There is no Emperor, don't dance around the truth. You taught me better. Even if you wont help me, I [refuse] to [simply abandon] my [duties] for my own sake. This is [especially important] given that their own [father] won't even bother to raise a hand in order to [protect] them. [Damned coward]-," There was veritable steaming coming out from Christophe's ears, and by some miracle our presence may have stopped him from blowing up. His mood changed on a dime when his grandmother gestured for him to turn around, "Wait what? Dad's [visiting]? Since when?! Ashe? Adolf, Ashe, hey come over you guys!"

The young lord's countenance lit up like the morning sun upon spotting us, stepping away like I once did to meet us halfway. It managed to release the tension from my shoulders, the steps I took were still careful but not laden with iron anymore. Looking back at the matriarch with one parting dig before he joined us, "I [refuse] your [request grandmother], for it would be [tantamount] to an [endorsement] of such evils. You'd be best off [remembering] that I am not Rhea."

I stepped away from the reunited siblings, halfway allowing myself to collapse into the seat I had left behind. Christophe's grandmother offered me a sympathetic cup of tea, the aroma steadied me until I was ready to drink my fill.

"The [imperial princesses] will find no [friends] in [Fargues], it would be a [surprise] if any ended up [allying themselves] with her house. But you [already] know this," The tone she shared with me, even if they felt the same and may have told the same story. It felt more genuine when addressed to me. Family had a special way of knowing what buttons to push, it was something that I had become deeply familiar with myself. Funny to think about as I once took part in both sides of this sort of argument, "Don't you?"

"It is true that they will not be safe here, this is not easy for both. I have an idea you may come to like," Anna, the rest of the convoy, and the girls were in the market while we were having this discrete exchange. Soon joined by the brothers as Christophe brought the kid before him for them to meet, "One day, they will find them, and I will kill to keep them away. Time is not on my side, I know that. So I ask of you one act from your kin."

"Make your [request binder] of [beo'wolves]," Her chuckle came after I was done, elden eyes twinkled with the sort of understanding that only grew from age. A small crackle of power traveled through the air between us, "Be it [within reason] of mine, and your [humility]. [Blessings] such as these are [earned], yes?"

"Yes, it is why I only ask that you let Chris-tophe come with me, and set his soul at rest. I wish to take them to your king," . , "It is what I ask of your kin now, the only act that I can. Chris-tophe is uh, troublesome, yes? But he will have to hear what is true from the king, that we did try."

Our little stretch of the market falls silent, or perhaps just our table where the tension feels calm yet thick. There was nothing to really do but stare at the shenanigans that Christophe had gotten into with his brother.

Firmly patting his younger brother's shoulder with a grin on his lips as he seemingly makes some sort of joke at his expense. Edelgard's eyebrows twitched, forming a frown in the same instance that the tone of their meeting changed.

Edi and Ashe had been making greetings to each other, only to be cut short by a man with too much whimsy to be healthy in the long term. The overly awkward exchange of greeting between Edi and Ashe came apart at the seams, with the latter snapping to a much deeper bow than before. Burni looked like a deer caught in headlights when coming to this city, seemingly trying to be on her best behavior. She finally stepped out from behind Anna, giggling at the exchange with Christophe cackling alongside her. It was an overly formal thing that clearly didn't belong to children, but expected of them to try and mimic in their case.

Whole thing was so damn similar, but not the same, and it hurt to watch.

A single frame of the scene playing out in front of me was captured between my fingertips, I hadn't fully realized when exactly my phone entered my hands. Held on my phone's screen, a clean view of everyone adorned my gallery, a few of different stages as the conversation developed. While my phone was held limply in my hands leaning against the wooden table, abandoned in favor of trying to breathe in the moment.

Yet safely stored for me to remember.

The moment passed, with a flash from my phone prompting a curious look from Eveline before she finally responded. Curiosity was there, but we both seemed to acknowledge that the time we shared was for business and not pleasure.

"You won't be able to [escape] with your lives if your pleas fall on deaf ears," She was warning me, both of us knew the risks and so no breath had to be wasted on testing my understanding of them. A bitter and lonely part of me muttered that it was because she only cared for her only family, an assumption that I buried. Professionalism was something I desperately needed to keep from my tone of voice. Her own words displayed how much more experience had in the art, "It is a good plan, [better] than [waiting] for a [massacre]. I'll pray that your [attempt] to shine true, so that in your [trying] times will not have been for [nothing]."

"It is good to try, than to live and know bad will make a pile of the dead with no one to stop them."

"[Goddess], you two are more [similar] than you [rightly] know. Huh, a magical with a heart, and I thought I've seen everything."

It was a compromise, not perfect for either of us, but one where we had achieved an understanding. The rest of tea drinking was left to be unmolested by heavier topics, and instead enjoyed with decent pleasant company. Idly listening to stories of her family as wind chimes rattled with the last vestiges of winter's ferocity. Beckoning in spring to come in full force, if the decorative window side potted flowers in mid bloom was anything to go by.

"I can see why he [wishes] to fight with you. . . keep him from [getting] too in over his head will you?" Her hands lay on top of each other as she too stood leaning against her cane, gazing at the same sight as I. Maybe seeing the same thing I did in them.

"You have my word."