It was late in the evening as the Regent of Faerghus sat in his ornate chair at the head of the grand table. On the other side of the chamber, there was a loud groan as the heavy wooden doors opened, revealing the Kingdom's Court Mage as the guards opened them and allowed Cornelia to enter the Regent's chamber. She kept a calm and unimposing expression as she stepped inside, yet Rufus continued to eye her warily before the doors closed shut behind her.

"My Lord," Cornelia greeted him, offering a sly smile and a bow. "It is wonderful to see you again after such a tumultuous week. I trust you are well?"

Rufus couldn't help but scoff. "I have no need for your pleasantries, witch. Word has already reached my ear that my nephew still lives. Care to explain?"

Cornelia's smile faded slightly, but she maintained her composure. "Indeed, the young prince managed to survive the incursion. However, as per your stipulation, there must be no trace leading back to you. Because after all, that rebellion was doomed to fail from the very beginning, was it not? Consider yourself fortunate that the mage I provided was killed in battle before he was to be interrogated."

Rufus narrowed his eyes at the woman, his anger barely contained. "That does little to console me. The rebellion was meant to be a death sentence for Dimitri, yet he still draws breath." After a moment's pause, the late King's older brother stood from his chair, hands clasped behind his back as he went to the open stone window and looked out toward the setting sun.

"It should already have ended that day," said the Regent out loud, as though talking to himself more than Cornelia. "Had the runt not survived, my right to rule Faerghus would've already been mine to claim. But now, with every passing day and every failed attempt to have him perish on the battlefield, the boy only seems to be getting stronger, and his bloodlust grows." He then turned to the Court Mage. "Have you ever witnessed the young Prince's true nature, Cornelia? Have you seen the feral beast he hides within?"

Cornelia tilted her head, a faint curiosity piqued by Rufus' words. "I have heard rumors, but I have not seen it with my own eyes. Do enlighten me, Regent."

Rufus' face was etched with frustration and fear. "Three years ago, during the rebellion in western Faerghus, I saw it for the first time." He paused, his gaze distant as he recalled the memory. "The battlefield was a slaughterhouse. He showed no mercy, no hesitation. He tore through the rebels with a brutality that left even the most hardened soldiers shaking with fear. It was as if he relished the bloodshed."

Cornelia listened intently, her expression showing great interest in the tale. "So your real intent is to rid your kingdom of this so-called feral beast, My Lord?"

The older man shook his head. "No. The throne on which my brother sat still belongs to me by right. Ridding ourselves of the beast would certainly remove one significant obstacle, but my claim to the throne stands regardless of his presence."

Cornelia's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Then our goal is twofold. Secure your claim while eliminating any threats that could challenge your rule."

Rufus nodded, his expression darkening. "Indeed. His growing strength and the loyalty from the other lords are troubling enough; and with the blessing of his Crest, if he were ever to discover who was truly behind the Tragedy of Duscur, none of us would be safe from his wrath."

x-x-x

Marianne stood outside of Prince Dimitri's dorm room, her hand raised as if preparing to knock. However, hesitation overcame her just as she was about to rap her knuckles against the wooden door. She stood there, contemplating whether to turn away, when the door suddenly opened, revealing Dimitri.

"Oh, Marianne," he said, surprised. "I had no idea you were out here. Forgive me, but I was just about to leave. Did you wish to speak with me?"

Marianne's cheeks flushed, and she clasped her hands nervously. "Y-yes, Your Highness. I… I just wanted to say thank you. F-For what you did earlier during the battle." Though she tried her best to make eye contact, her gaze eventually fell to her feet. "But- at the same time, I wanted to apologize."

Dimitri crossed his arms, his eyes filled with confusion. "Apologize for what exactly?"

"For putting myself in danger and forcing you to take the hit for me," Marianne said softly, her voice laden with guilt.

The prince laughed, a warm and reassuring sound. "Marianne, there's no need to apologize for that. I'm tougher than I look, you know." He rolled his shoulder to emphasize his point. "The worst I got was a sore shoulder."

Marianne almost managed a small smile at his words, but it quickly faded. "I appreciate your kindness, but… all the same, I think it's probably best if you keep your distance from me."

Dimitri frowned, and his expression shifted back to confusion. "Is that so…?" he asked regretfully.

"Yes."

Hearing her straightforward answer caused the crown prince to take a step back for a moment as he leaned on his elbow against the doorframe, seemingly lost in thought. "Forgive me, Marianne." He finally said, and the priestess looked up to see Dimitri looking at her with a determined, but also slightly defiant look. "But I will do no such thing."

The young noble girl's breathing hitched. "But- but why?"

"Because, Marianne, I don't regret risking my life for you, and I wouldn't have done any differently for any of the other Blue Lions. Protecting you is not a burden, it's something I do willingly and without hesitation."

"But... I don't want to be the reason you get hurt. I don't want anyone to suffer because of me."

Dimitri shook his head. "You are not the cause of any suffering, Marianne. As leaders, the dangers we face are part of our duty. We face them together, and your life is just as valuable as anyone else's." His eyes then lit up as he remembered something and stood up straight. "Oh, by the way, Mercedes informed me that you went to Professor Mimir and requested to remain as a permanent classmate with us. Is this true?"

Marianne's eyes widened slightly. "Y-yes, it is. I just… I just feel that I can grow and contribute more if I stay with the Blue Lions, all while under Professor Mimir and Sir Kratos' guidance."

Dimitri's smile broadened. "That is wonderful news, Marianne. We are honored to have you as a permanent member of our house, and I'm sure that Mercedes is very excited to have you stay with us."

Marianne blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "Th-thank you, Your Highness."

"Please, Marianne, no need for such formalities. Just Dimitri will suffice."

"But, the rest of the Lions, don't they…?"

The prince couldn't help but laugh. "I keep telling them the same thing, yet they insist on using titles. Well, all except Felix, of course. It seems old habits die hard. But truly, I would prefer it if you just called me Dimitri."

At last, the blue-haired priestess, though still flustered, managed a small smile. "O-OK, of course… Dimitri."

Unbeknownst to them, just a little ways down the hall, Felix had been listening in on the two nobles' conversation, and a scowl was drawn across his lips as he silently closed his door shut.

x-x-x

Rhea had entered her private studies, where several of her mages were hard at work, pouring through materials of old scrolls, books and artifacts that littered every table within the room. Upon hearing the door open, one of the mages, an older man with a long gray beard, looked up from one of the many tomes spread before him.

"Your Grace," he greeted, rising from his seat and bowing slightly. The other mages followed suit, pausing their research to acknowledge Rhea's presence.

Rhea nodded in acknowledgment and moved to the table where the old man stood, her eyes scanning the numerous documents. "What news do you have regarding our guest, Kratos?" she asked, her voice calm, yet still carried a sense of urgency.

The head mage, Eadric, spoke uncomfortably. "Your Grace, I am afraid to say that our progress has been… minimal, so to speak."

The Archbishop frowned. "Explain."

"W-well, the truth is that none of us, even with our lifelong experience in studying magic, have ever seen anything quite like this. The first snag we ran into was trying to discover where the brigand had originally come from. Even with the strand of hair you'd provided us, we were unable to trace its origin within our known world."

Rhea's eyes narrowed, her impatience growing. "What do you mean by that, Eadric?"

Eadric swallowed nervously before he continued. "In our world, teleportation magic relies on the projection and placement of magic circles, which allow for near-instantaneous transportation within a limited range. However, these circles cannot work over vast distances, which was the second snag. But even if we were to somehow crack it, that strand of hair you provided does not resonate with any known magical signatures or locations within our world." Rhea's expression hardened, remaining silent as to allow the man to finish, who hesitated at first. "My Lady, from everything we've gathered, it's as if the realm Sir Kratos comes from doesn't even exist. His being here… it shouldn't even be a possibility."

"So you're telling me there is no way to send him back?" The Archbishop's gaze went cold.

Eadric nodded. "Indeed, My Lady. As it stands, the only way that Sir Kratos can return to his home world is if the Goddess herself wills it to happen."

Rhea clenched her fists, the knuckles turning white. "This complicates matters further." She muttered out loud, then to the head mage. "Thank you, Eadric. Your service is greatly appreciated. In the meantime, continue on with your work and inform me if any new developments arise."

Eadric bowed deeply. "Of course, Your Grace. We will not rest until we have exhausted every possibility."

x-x-x

"So," said Mimir after they'd finally returned to their dorm. "Our employer has decided to let old Lord Lonato off the hook?"

"It would seem that way," Kratos grunted.

"Well, not entirely, mind you. But still, I'd have never expected such leniency. Especially not from the Archbishop." Mimir paused. "Have you told wee Ashe of the verdict?"

"No. He needs to allow his emotions to run their course before we tell him anything. For now, it is best we allow him a night's rest."

"Aye, and not just him. The Blue Lions as a whole have had quite an emotional ordeal ever since that skirmish. I dare say, if not for the grueling training you put them through, I suspect our casualties would've been a lot higher."

"That was precisely the purpose." Kratos brushed him off.

"Oh, no doubt about it, Brother. However… with everything that's been happening as of late, I'm starting to fear that just the physical training isn't going to be enough for these lads."

"Explain." Said the Spartan.

"Brother, you have to remember. These are children we're talking about here. They may be young, clever, and obviously very intelligent in most cases, but they are only human; and human children, no less. Besides, I highly doubt that the Archbishop had spared Lonato out of the goodness of her heart. It is quite obvious that she means to gain our favor, and the students are no doubt one of several ways to achieve it."

"And so what do you suggest?"

"I suggest," The head began, "that perhaps we take a little more of a personal role in their development moving forward. I know we agreed to meddle in their affairs as little as possible while we were here, but now it has become quite clear that it is no longer a possibility. You remember the young lass, Marianne, aye? She chose to stay despite her recent misstep. The lads need us, Kratos."

"Even if that means playing directly into the woman's hands?" Kratos questioned Mimir. "You would allow your feelings to cloud your judgment for the sake and wellbeing of a select few?"

Mimir sighed, his gaze steady. "It's not about allowing my feelings to cloud my judgment, Kratos. These youngins are more than just soldiers in training. We have the opportunity to shape them into not just warriors, but wise and compassionate leaders. Is that not something Tyr himself had taught you?" Kratos remained silent for a moment, considering Mimir's words. "Not only that, but you saved a man's life. Sure, it might lead to some other messes in the future, but the fact remains that you chose to act despite what we'd agreed upon. You can't pretend as though you already don't care about what happens to any of the young whelps."

"I am not pretending." The Spartan growled.

"Then why do you hesitate?" Mimir pressed. "Why do you fight against what's already in your heart? You care for these students, Kratos. You see the potential in them, the same way you saw potential in your own son."

Kratos' expression darkened. "It is not my right. I do not wish to lead them down a path of ruin."

Mimir's eyes softened with understanding. "But that's precisely why you're the right person for this. You've seen the darkness, and you know how to navigate it. After all, when you looked into His Highness's eyes, that's what made you accept the role in the first place, was it not?"

This time, the Ghost of Sparta did not have an answer.