The next two days slid by slowly and uneventfully. Dart expertly managed to avoid Shana for the greater part of that time, as he had felt the awkward tension between them as soon as he had seen her after healing his wound. Much more difficult, however, was avoiding Lavitz, who kept trying to bring up the strange new group dynamic to discuss it with him. Dart had no desire to do so, and spent his days at the arena with the excuse of "sizing up his competition" when Lavitz wanted to stay back at the inn, and spending time in the room whenever Lavitz felt like watching matches. Occasionally, he actually wandered around Lohan alone when he couldn't be sure what Lavitz was planning. A small part of him wanted to ask about any letters that may have come from Bale, but the risk of a personal conversation was too great.

For the first time, Dart truly appreciated Rose's company. She never seemed to care about anything personal going on with their group, and she never asked about it. He actually found himself seeking her out more than once, and asked her to go watch a couple matches with him so that she could point out the contestants' flaws. It was a fun activity when her criticism was directed at someone other than him.

The day before his match, after eating lunch alone downstairs, he came to the girls' room to find Rose and knocked on the door. To his dismay, Shana opened it, and for the first time in two days, they stood face to face. Her unamused eyes bored into his, and he shied away from them.

"I was just... going to go see the next match..." he mumbled awkwardly. "I was going to invite... Rose..."

She smirked. "I kind of feel like seeing a match. Why don't we all go? We can invite Lavitz, too."

Internally, he cringed at her falsely positive voice. She was still angry.

She turned and said, "Rose, Dart wants to go to the arena. You want to come along?"

From the doorway, Dart saw Rose shrug and set down a book. She stood and strapped on her rapier before heading to the door. The trio walked down the stairs in an awkward silence.

Upon reaching the first floor of the inn, they found Lavitz writing furiously on a piece of parchment, a plate of untouched food sitting near him. He didn't notice them until they were standing next to the table, at which point he looked up from his work. A look of confusion and amusement crossed his face, and Dart spoke up quickly before he could ask about what was happening.

"What are you writing?"

"Letter to Bale. Even though it hasn't been long, I still haven't received any response from the others, and I just wanted to be thorough. You know, maybe they got lost or something." Lavitz's eyes flitted between Dart and Shana repeatedly, searching for something.

"Um, well," interrupted Dart, shifting his weight nervously. "We're all going to the next match, if you want to tag along."

"Yeah, no problem," replied Lavitz. "I can finish this tonight and mail it tomorrow." He quickly folded up the letter and tucked it into his pocket, tossed the pen onto the table, and grabbed a piece of bread off the plate. "Let's go."

As they meandered through the streets toward the arena, Dart led the group in an effort to stay as far away from Shana as possible. However, unwelcome though expected, Lavitz managed to catch up to him, and as soon as they walked astride one another, he decided to ask questions.

"Are you ever going to talk to me about what happened?" he asked, quietly enough that the girls could not hear him.

"Nope," replied Dart flatly. It was no use feigning ignorance; Shana had probably already told him all about it anyway.

After a heavy sigh, Lavitz said, "Well, you guys are going to have to get over this at some point. Better sooner than later. Rose and I are at our wits' end trying to keep you two occupied. I'd like us to be able to hang out again without it being weird."

"It's not that weird."

"You keep telling yourself that, buddy."

Dart glanced nervously behind him to Shana, who was avoiding looking at him with a determined eye. He shook his head, then ignored Lavitz's meaningful stare.

They reached the arena and sat down in the Hero's Box with fifteen minutes to spare before the next match. Dart was quite proud of himself for having managed to maneuver Rose into sitting between him and Shana, and he was content to have Lavitz on his other side. Perhaps with Lavitz having gotten his questioning out of the way, Dart would be able to talk strategy with both of them for this round.

The bracket had many more names printed on it, with almost all of the first tier's matches having been completed. Dart scanned through the names of the warriors who had made it to the second round and noticed that there was only one match left before the second-tier matches began. His eyes hovered over one name, though, that sounded familiar to him, although he could not quite place it.

Over the past couple days, Dart had grown accustomed to the feel of the arena, and he was now quite comfortable here. He could feel the familiar air of excitement rustle through the crowd as the time approached for the match to start, and he found himself watching eagerly to see who might be going this time around. As they stepped into the arena and made their way toward the circle - or what was left of the circle; surely they would repaint it soon - Dart immediately began to size them up. One wore simple leather armor and wielded a short sword; the other was draped with chainmail and carried a shield and longsword. Leaning to his right, Dart consulted Rose.

"Which one will win?"

"It's hard to say," she replied. "I'd say the one with the short sword, but the other man has a shield. Such a thing can't be ignored."

"I agree, but I don't think shield-guy will win."

"'Shield-guy'?" asked Rose, eyebrow raised.

"What, do you want me to say 'the one with the shield' every time?"

"Suit yourself," she said as she turned back to the arena.

The announcer rang out the names of the fighters, the bell tolled, and the fight began. The two men immediately bounced into a dance of steel as they bandied about the arena, striking and defending blows. They were markedly more adept than most of the warriors Dart had seen thus far, and he now turned to Lavitz.

"Who do you think is going to win this one?" he asked.

"The guy with the chainmail," answered Lavitz.

"I disagree; look at the footwork. The other guy is much neater and more skillful."

"But the guy with the longsword has greater reach. He's landed more blows so far."

"I'll bet you five gold pieces that the guy in leather armor wins," challenged Dart.

Lavitz turned to him skeptically. "I've been paying your room and board out of my own pocket for a week now."

"Aw, you're no fun," complained Dart.

He watched the match for another minute or so before turning back to Rose.

"Do you gamble, Rose?"

"No," she replied, not bothering to look at him.

He sighed heavily, eyeing the superior footwork of the one warrior. After a time, his eyes drifted over to Shana. She sat at attention, clearly engaged in the fight, grimacing whenever blood was drawn. He admitted to himself that he didn't like the uncomfortable strain that had been placed on their relationship, and that he wished things had gone differently. All he really wanted, though, was for things to go back to normal with her, but he was afraid that it would be too difficult to achieve.

Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer wildly, and Dart swung back to see the man in leather armor surrendering the fight. He cursed just as Lavitz began to laugh.

"Man, I should have taken that bet," he said, punching Dart lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah."

He glanced over at Shana again, this time their eyes meeting, and he quickly turned away. He had to figure out something to say. He just needed some time alone with her; having Lavitz and Rose overhear their conversation was not what he wanted. He thought about simply asking her to walk with him around the arena, but then the others would know exactly what was going on. I'll just wait, he thought, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Do you want to stay and watch the next match?" asked Lavitz. Indicating the chart, he added, "It looks like it will be the first of the second tier."

Dart studied the chart and saw the names of the two people fighting next, and once again, one of them seemed familiar. Perhaps if he stayed, he would be able to recognize the person.

"Sure," he replied. Then to Rose and Shana, "You guys okay with staying?"

They both nodded stiffly, and Dart glanced up at the clock. They had twenty minutes before the next round started, and the uncomfortable silence sitting over them had Dart's leg bouncing again.

Leaning close to his ear, Lavitz whispered, "Definitely not weird."

Shoving a chuckling Lavitz away from him, Dart rolled his eyes.

As the time neared for the match to start, Dart waited eagerly to see the contestants. At last they strolled out, one from each direction as usual. The one nearer them carried two short swords, already drawn and ready to slice. He was a tall man, limber, and strong.

The other, however, was intensely familiar to Dart. He wore a gray vest with matching pants, and carried no weapon. He was much shorter than his opponent, probably shorter than Dart, and had long, black hair tied back behind him. His well-tanned skin contrasted almost everyone else in the city, and even from here, Dart could make out a thick mustache. The man stepped forward purposefully, meeting his opponent in the circle, and readied himself. He placed his left foot forward, and readied his fists, wrapped tightly with some kind of cloth. Metal bracers glinted on his forearms.

"Oh!" cried Dart suddenly. "Haschel! Now I remember!"

"What?" asked Lavitz.

Just then the bell rang, and Haschel's opponent lurched forward, swinging his swords expertly. Haschel caught each blow on his bracers, deftly sidestepped, and planted his fist in the man's diaphragm. The man exhaled violently, and during the slight pause, Haschel moved behind him, placing them back to back, and grabbed the man's neck. Then jumping dramatically forward, he pulled his opponent off his feet, flipped him, and slammed him face-first to the ground.

"Impressive," muttered Rose.

"I know him," continued Dart. "The guy fighting with his fists. I met him two or three years ago, in the east. Named Haschel, and a fearsome fighter. Obviously."

As Dart spoke, Haschel circled his downed enemy, who was still trying to catch his breath, and waited patiently for him to stand, like a lion circling its prey. Slowly, the man stumbled to his feet, panting and angry. He raised his swords defensively, this time waiting for Haschel to strike first. Smart boy, thought Dart. But Haschel was far too skilled; he quickly closed the distance between them with a speed that Dart had only seen bested by dragoons. With the flick of his bracers, Haschel knocked the swords out of the way, powering through his defenses. He struck twice in a row, then finished the attack by jumping and spinning forcefully, striking his opponent's cheekbone with his heel before landing gracefully.

Although Haschel readied himself for an attack, none came. The enemy was lying unconscious on the ground, face down, swords scattered about him. Haschel relaxed; an unconscious opponent meant that he had won the match, and the announcer soon claimed him the victor. He happily lifted both fists into the air, encouraging the crowd as they cheered furiously for his quick win.

"That took all of three minutes," said Lavitz. "Color me impressed."

"I should probably go say hello." Dart stood abruptly, eager to avoid the awkward silence that would follow the match, and stumbled past Lavitz.

"Whoa, take your time."

"Sorry," Dart muttered, casting one more backward glance to Shana before leaving. She watched him go - he could feel her eyes on his back - but he didn't feel like explaining himself to her. If he were honest, he wanted to be away from them for a while, and Haschel reminded him of a simpler time. A time when he didn't have to worry about Shana.

He'd met Haschel almost three years ago while traveling through a minor trading village in the wilds to the east. Haschel was playing cards at the local bar, cleaning men out left and right, when Dart decided to try his hand at the game. He'd never really played before, but he was a fast learner; maybe he could win a round or two and be on his way.

"Be careful, boy," Haschel had said to him with a raucous smile. "You're joining a dangerous game. This is a game for men."

Dart had sat down anyway, earning the jeering of several intrigued onlookers.

"I'm man enough for a simple card game," he'd said. Even almost all this time later, he could hear the youth in his voice, and Haschel had erupted into a deep belly laugh.

"I'm almost old enough to be your grandfather, boy! And you call yourself a man. You're what... eighteen? Twenty? You haven't even lived yet. But let's see how you do!"

Chuckling, Dart recalled the ease with which Haschel had defeated him. But they'd bonded quickly, and spent the rest of the evening drinking together, talking at the bar stool, and exchanging stories of their pasts. Dart had always been amazed at how easily their friendship had strengthened, and they'd spent several weeks traveling together before they had parted ways once again.

Now, Dart made his way to the waiting room on the other side of the arena, excited to be meeting an old friend. He nodded to the man guarding the steps and hurried down them, hearing voices in the room beyond.

"I'm just saying, you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to defeat me next round."

"What did you say? I'm just as good as you! Better, even!"

"'Immaturity of heart yields immaturity in battle,'" quoted the deeper voice. "You would be no match for me."

Peering out from the stairwell, Dart saw Haschel and another warrior, a victor from an earlier fight, facing each other. Haschel stood calmly with his hands clasped behind his back, but the other warrior had his hand on his sword hilt, anger written all over his face. Even as Dart watched, he unsheathed his sword and swung it at Haschel, but a second later, he lay in a heap on the floor. Dart raised an eyebrow at Haschel's quick movements.

"Hey, hey, hey!" called the tenant. "No fighting outside the arena!"

"He started it," said Haschel innocently.

"Ugh," grunted the man on the floor.

"You really shouldn't have done that before your own match, you know," taunted Haschel. "Now you'll be at a disadvantage. You're already wounded."

The man cursed at him before standing wearily. "I'll... I'll show you. Just wait until we meet in the arena!"

Haschel shrugged. "If you manage to make it to the next round, I'll be surprised." Then turning, he walked away from the seething man. As soon as he saw Dart, he stopped short.

"No way!" he cried, grinning wildly.

"Hey, Haschel!" laughed Dart, going up to him and wrapping him in a tight hug. "Man, it's good to see you!"

"And you, my friend! What are you doing here?"

"Same as you, it seems. Trying to win a Hero Competition."

"I'm just taking a break, although between you and me, I wouldn't really mind that winning prize."

Dart chuckled and said, "I believe you can win it! I just watched your match, and I was blown away. You've gotten even better in the past couple years."

"Oh-ho! Your flattery will not get you an easy win against me, boy!"

"Me, flatter?" scoffed Dart. "I would never!"

"Hm, I seem to remember a time when you flattered me into taking you to an old abandoned ruin in the middle of the woods."

"That was a very different situation. I'd never try such a thing again, you know."

Haschel laughed loudly, that same deep laugh that Dart remembered, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Ah, in any case," he said, "it's good to see you again."

"And you," returned Dart. Then suddenly, he remembered where he was. Such a long time had passed since his days in the east, and he no longer traveled alone. "Hey, why don't I introduce you to everybody?" The words came out before he thought about them. Hadn't he wanted to get away from the others? But maybe the new dynamic of Haschel among their ranks would kill some of the strain.

"You're traveling with people now? How interesting!" He snickered. "Let's go see these friends of yours."

They meandered up the stairs and through the sizeable crowd that was seizing the opportunity to gather more refreshments and explore the entertainment. Haschel winked and smiled at several women who passed by, and they gave him a scowl and wide berth in return. Dart chuckled. Same old Haschel, he thought.

Eventually, they made it back to the other side of the arena, where Lavitz, Shana, and Rose stood talking just outside the Hero's Box. Upon seeing Dart and Haschel approaching, Lavitz and Shana turned to greet them.

"Everyone," announced Dart. "This is my friend Haschel, who I met in my travels in the east. Haschel, this is Lavitz, Shana, and Rose."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Lavitz formally as he shook his hand.

"Oh, please, no need to be so uptight!" laughed Haschel before turning to Shana. "Shana," he said slowly. "I've heard quite a lot about you."

"You... have?" she asked, casting a glance over to Dart. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes! You're just as beautiful as Dart made you out to be. He's a stubborn one, but I think you'll suit him well."

"Haschel!" exclaimed Dart, hitting him hard on the shoulder. Then with a nervous laugh, he added, "He's... never serious. A jokester, this one."

"Give me some credit, Dart! I'm perfectly serious when I'm fighting."

Lavitz interrupted their awkward encounter, saying, "And you are a master of martial arts! I've never seen such control and precision before. Where did you learn?"

As he spoke, Dart glanced over to Shana, who was eyeing him, angry and wholly unamused.

"My hometown. I was actually the master of the Rouge School of Martial Arts before I left twenty years ago."

"Rouge... It doesn't sound familiar."

"It wouldn't. Few of us ever leave, and it lies far to the west."

"Are you from Tiberoa then?"

Haschel smiled. "A bit farther than that."

"So you must have traveled all over the world!" said Shana excitedly.

"Quite a bit of Endiness, yes! Never went north, though. Too cold for these old bones!"

As people milled about them, Dart began to feel uneasy. Soon enough, another match would be starting, and the crowd would be screaming and being annoyingly disruptive to their conversation.

"How about we go back to the inn, and talk there?" he offered.

"Yes, but first..." Haschel turned to Rose. "You are... exquisite," he said, taking her hand. The look that crossed her face could have killed a dozen men, but Haschel seemed unfazed, bending down to kiss her knuckles. "It is my great pleasure to meet you."

Snatching her right hand back forcefully, Rose placed her left hand on her sword hilt, advertising her formidability, and a slight halo of darkness, imperceptible unless you knew what to look for, surrounded her figure as she glared at Haschel. "Don't touch me again," she said, her calm voice contrasting her imposing demeanor.

"Very well," said Haschel, clearly taken aback by her intimidation tactics. Then turning back to Dart, "Shall we go?"

Dart and Lavitz exchanged a comical glance as everyone agreed, and the group of five made their way back to the One-Eyed Crow, settling into a larger table that could seat all of them. It did not escape Dart's notice that Shana sat as far from him as possible, and he frowned. He needed to talk to her before his match tomorrow. Lavitz ordered a round of drinks for each of them, and soon enough they were engulfed in conversation. Dart had forgotten how much Haschel liked being the center of attention, and he easily kept Shana and Lavitz enraptured, quite often making jokes at Dart's expense. Much of the discussion circulated around the competition and the various contestants they had seen around Lohan, but occasionally Haschel managed to slip in a story of his time roaming Endiness. Those were the stories that had always intrigued Dart, and he listened to them avidly.

Almost two hours later, the excited voices died down to a standstill. Dart and Lavitz had drunk about half their drinks, while Haschel had already downed two mugs of ale. Shana's and Rose's drinks sat untouched.

"Master Haschel..." began Shana.

"Oh, please, just call me Haschel. 'Master Haschel' is far too formal a title for a man such as me."

"Okay then, Haschel," she laughed. "You said... that you left your hometown twenty years ago, but with everything you said about it, it sounds like it's a lovely place that you care for deeply. So... why did you leave?" Her voice had turned soft and careful.

For the first time since his match earlier that day, Haschel turned suddenly serious. His grin vanished, and he clasped his hands together and sighed before speaking.

"Twenty-five years ago, my daughter ran away from Rouge. Just got in a boat and sailed away in the middle of the night. We didn't even know about it until the next morning, and by then it was impossible to know where she had gone. So we waited for her to come back. She didn't, but her mother held out hope for another year before she fell ill, and it was after she died four years later that I decided to leave Rouge myself and go out in search of my daughter. The only child I ever had."

"Did you ever find her?" asked Shana quietly, barely audible over the inn's patrons, who were all beginning to convene for dinner.

"No," replied Haschel, shaking his head slightly. "I never did. But I still keep searching. But you know, twenty-five years is a long time. So occasionally, I allow myself a break, and do something like-" he grinned and shrugged, grabbing his glass for another swig "-join a Hero Competition."

"It couldn't have been an easy twenty years," said Lavitz.

"It had its ups and downs," said Haschel. "But enough about me! Dart!" He turned to Dart abruptly and elbowed his arm lightly. "What about you? You were chasing down that... thing... What was it called? The dark something or other?"

"The Black Monster?" asked Dart, amused. Rose stirred slightly in her corner. "No, man, I had the same amount of luck as you, I'm afraid."

"That's a pity. I was hoping you wouldn't follow in my footsteps. Oh, well! How did you wind up with this rabble?" Haschel gestured to the three across from him.

Dart cast a meaningful glance over to Lavitz before replying, "That's actually a really complicated story... And we probably shouldn't talk about it here. Maybe we could go up to our room?"

"Good idea," said Lavitz.

"Now I'm intrigued!" exclaimed Haschel. "Let us away! I want to hear every detail."

They made their way upstairs, and at the third floor, Rose excused herself and retreated to her room. Shana, however, followed them into the tiny, windowless room, and they all sat down as Dart began the story of his return to Seles. Over the next hour, Dart, with some help from Shana and Lavitz when he couldn't quite remember the details, filled Haschel in on all the events that had occurred since that fateful trip to Hellena Prison, with a skillful skirt around Shana's demonstration in the cave. Haschel sat enraptured the entire time, making particularly loud exclamations as Dart revealed the truth about their dragoon natures and their uses in battle. It took some time, and a demonstration of the glowing power of dragoon spirits, to convince Haschel that they weren't just joking with him. They spent extra time going over the lore they had learned from Minister Noish and how it pertained to both dragoons and the Black Monster, and finally discussed the journey to the dragon's nest, Shana's illness, and the prize found at Shirley's shrine.

"I can't believe this," Haschel said after a long, contemplative silence. "Dragoons, in our day and age. I mean, I heard that the dragon was killed, but I didn't think that far into it."

"Wait, you heard about the dragon?" interrupted Lavitz. "How?"

"Sandora found the body a while ago. I guess... about the time you all left for the shrine? For a few days, it was all anyone would talk about. Emperor Doel put out a huge bounty on the head of whoever's responsible. You were right to discuss this behind closed doors. If word got out that you were a bunch of dragoons who killed Doel's prized weapon, every person in this town would be trying to scoop you up and sell you to him."

"Oh, no..." said Shana suddenly.

"What?" asked Dart.

"Nobody knows about the dragon..."

"Yes..."

"... except maybe the doctor. He knew that I was affected by dragon poison. Do you think he'd... Do you think he'd turn us in?"

"I doubt it," said Lavitz. "He didn't seem to have any hatred for us, and I think word would have been out by now if he had intended to inform Doel's men. Sanator is a good man, and if my sources are correct, has no love of Imperial Sandora anyway. We should be... relatively safe."

"Relatively?" asked Dart. "Those men in Hoax saw me transform, and they saw Rose. The giganto, too. They must have told Doel about it. And then the dragon shows up dead just a couple weeks later? I don't think he'll see that as a coincidence."

"There was no description to go with the bounty," offered Haschel. "Either he must not want you as badly as it seems, or he hasn't put two and two together. If he were going to know, he would know by now."

"That is unsettling, though," said Lavitz. "Here's to hoping Doel doesn't really know anything."

They all agreed, and an uneasy silence filled the room. The possibility of being man-hunted by Doel's men was not a pleasing thought to Dart. He hadn't considered until now how much of a problem he'd posed to Sandora's war schemes, but he was suddenly afraid of what might be awaiting them, even within the city. His next match was tomorrow morning; would someone recognize him and turn them in? He had to hope in the fact that nothing had come up yet, and hope that their identities were not known to Emperor Doel.

The tension was thick in the room. After a few more minutes, Dart used the excuse of his match the next day to scatter the group. Haschel thanked them for a good time and kissed Shana's hand before leaving, bringing forth a wide grin as he did so. After Haschel had bounded down the stairs, Lavitz offered to bring Dart and Shana some food from the mess hall.

"No, thanks," said Dart. "I'm not really that hungry."

"Me, either," answered Shana. "But thank you, Lavitz."

"Suit yourselves," he said before heading down.

Shana muttered a soft farewell before heading out the door. Say something, Dart told himself. Say something now, before she leaves. His heart began to pound; he had no inkling of what he wanted to say, except that he wanted to fix what was broken.

"Shana!" he called, leaping up and out the door. She spun around, bewildered.

"Yeah?"

"Hang on a second. Can we... Can we talk?"

"Sure, what about?" Her pretending not to know of what he spoke irritated him slightly.

Just say it. Apologize. Doesn't matter what for, just apologize.

"I'm sorry... for the other night."

Her expression changed. Where she was innocently curious, she now seemed hurt and dejected. It was as if the night were happening all over again. He cringed to see her that way.

"Can we just... pretend it never happened and go back to how it was before?" he asked. "Back to normal?"

He wasn't even sure why he was apologizing, or what about that night had made things so strained between them, but he desperately wanted their friendship back, to know that she would be supporting him at his match tomorrow. He was prepared to do whatever it took. The slightest of smiles crossed her face, and Dart could not tell if it was genuine or forced.

"Yeah. We can do that."

A great sigh of relief escaped Dart, and he smiled broadly. "Great!" he said. "I'm glad."

What do I do now?

He held out his hand awkwardly, and she shook it as a smile curled her lips.

"Then I'll see you at my match tomorrow?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"Wonderful."

"Good night, Dart."

"Good night."

He turned and walked back into his room, closing the door behind him and sliding down it to sit on the floor. He could hear her soft footsteps walk to the girls' room, the door creaking open, then clicking shut. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about everything, but he knew that she would be there tomorrow, and that was all he really needed to know. Whatever strange relationship they had, he had come to rely on her and her support. At least now, she might not give him such angry looks anymore.

Standing stiffly, he removed his tunic and slid into his bed. As their awkward encounter in the hall sat heavy on his mind, he imagined a million different ways to tell her what he was really thinking, each of them much better than what he'd actually said. And in the back of his mind, there was a nagging feeling that she was less than content with how he'd gone about his apology.

Such an idiot, he thought.