Valkyrie Profile:

Lenneth Novelization AU:

Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release.

Chapter Thirty-Six:

Lucien I

On the Threshold of Fate

"Looks like everyone's gone down t' the cellar already," Ingrid said.

She, Gloria, and their grandmother, Bedelia had arrived at the rear of an old building. The Yngvi rune was chalked onto its back wall. It was the Silver Saviors' signal that a meeting was in session. The abandoned, decaying structure was a reminder of the cities' better days. It was now overrun with moss and vines, and even trees grew up its sides. The half-dwarven cousins shared serious looks. Bedelia strode past them, taking the lead.

"Well, ye comin'?" the old ex-assassin asked them.

"Yes, Grandmama," Ingrid and Gloria answered at once.

They followed her close, knowing they were going to have to help Bedelia climb inside. As they crossed the dirt lot, Gloria recalled the mayor's speech. After Boyd had announced his plans to hang Barren, the three had hurried home. Bedelia, Ingrid, and Gloria had scarcely arrived, intending only to stay long enough to begin preparing to rally everyone to hold council. Instead, they were suddenly called by someone pounding on their door again. They hadn't answered, because they understood what four quick knocks followed by three slow ones meant: come to the old Marley & Marley Mint for a briefing.

Bedelia and the younger women stopped by a window with no glass, where they discreetly looked around to ensure they were not being watched or followed. Ingrid and Gloria were able to rely on the enhanced hearing that came with their mixed blood, and could discern no human activity nearby. So, both girls came up on either side of their grandmother, hooking their arms behind her back and under her legs as they lifted her up through the window.

"Thank ye kindly, girls," Bedelia told them.

Then she stuck her feet through the window and slid off their arms, landing on her feet in the dark hallway. Ingrid nodded towards the window, silently telling Glora to go first. The blonde grabbed the windowsill and pulled herself up as Ingrid stood watch. Her hawkish eyes scanned their surroundings. Under the sinking sun's light, she could faintly make out the red outlines of warm-blooded creatures around them.

"Alright, I'll pull you in," she heard Glora say.

"Yeah," the pinkette half-dwarf answered.

She turned and reached up, taking Gloria's hands and was pulled up into the dark hall as well.

"Rrf," Ingrid grunted as she hopped onto the dark wooden floor.

Bedelia stood across from them with her back to the wall as she looked back and forth up and down the hall with an arrow already notched in her bow. Most of the windows were boarded, limiting Bedelia's ability to see.

"Anythin'?" she asked her granddaughters.

"Nothin', Granny," Ingrid answered.

To the half-dwarven girls, it was as though the dust and cobweb laden wall-mounted oil lamps were full and lit. The only infrared auras they could see were those of small animals. The larger ones were all in the basement. It looked like a cluster of at least fifty people down there.

"Nay," Ingrid answered.

"Just down in the basement. Looks like the meeting's already underway," Gloria added.

"Then let us git movin'," Bedelia said.

They went left from the window. In their trek, the other halls weren't much better. They were all dark, cluttered, and filthy. Most importantly, it was empty of all life except species of rodents that had inhabited it and the Silver Saviors who held their meetings in its cellar. Near the center of the first floor, they found the mossy stone stair to the subterranean level. Ingrid and Gloria stopped, looked, and listened. They only heard the squeaks and saw the little red auras of mice and rats.

"All clear," Gloria said.

Then Ingrid went first, followed by Bedelia. Gloria went last, keeping her ears attuned to their surroundings just in case. Ingrid stopped at the thick, wooden door at the bottom, and rapped on the door to the rhythm of "Shave and a haircut." Someone answered with three consecutive knocks, to which Ingrid replied with two more. She paused, counted to three, and followed that up with four more raps.

"Who's there?" the guard called from the other side.

"It's Little Pink, Old Bow, and Goldilocks," Ingrid recited the password. "We've stepped in looking to check up on some old friends."

"Friends? A rare thing to find in these troubled times," the person inside said their first part of the code.

"All the more reason to hold them close and keep in contact," Ingrid recited her second part.

"Wise words to leave the world less troubled."

"Less trouble than we found it, right?" Ingrid said, and the password exchange was completed.

The door creaked open a crack, and the green-eyed tanned face of Betty appeared. She held up a lantern to see who was there. Ingrid leaned to the side, letting her see Bedelia and Gloria. Betty let out a visible "Whew."

"We've started. They just finished saying 'Hello'," Betty pulled the door open and stepped back, letting the trio in.

Ingrid moved aside, allowing her grandmother to enter first. Bedelia stepped into the massive cellar and stopped short. Ingrid almost walked right into her.

"Huh? Granny?" she asked.

"Hey, why are we dawdling?" Gloria asked from the rear.

"Hey, ladies. You miss me?" a very familiar voice asked.

Ingrid and Gloria both gasped, now understanding why their grandmother had paused just inside the door. She'd been surprised by who she saw. Ingrid and Gloria both pushed forward to peer around the elder.

"Gah!" Bedelia grunted as they unintentionally shoved her.

She cast an irritated eye on her granddaughters as they peered around her shoulders.

"Lucien?" Ingrid and Gloria both cried.

In the middle of the cellar, Lucien sat at the head of a large meeting table. Claire, Maximillian, Rusty, and few others were seated along the sides, leaving some chairs towards the far end free for the old ex-assassin and the half-blood girls. There were Fifty or perhaps sixty Silver Saviors gathered in the cellar, total. Some were posted around the various entrances into the cellar. Others stood around. Some sat on the hard stone floor or on old boxes or ragged bags of abandoned and unused goods.

"Thank the gods! You're all alive!" Gloria cheered.

Then, in their excitement and relief, she and Ingrid pushed past Bedelia and ran over to the table.

"Gah! Fools girls!" Bedelia dusted herself off and straightened out her clothing. "Have I not taught ye to mind yer manners yet?"

Behind her, Betty covered her mouth to suppress a laugh as she closed the door. When the elder looked back with a disgruntled glare, the emerald-eyed girl turned away nonchalantly, as though she had seen and heard nothing. At the table, Ingrid and Gloria were full of questions. Lucien found himself chuckling as he tried to calm them despite their current circumstances.

"Yes, we were able to drop off the surviving refugees with Al," Lucien said. His eyes twitched with melancholy as he thought of all the ones they lost in the Turgen Mountains. "Then, Claire, Rusty, Joe, Taran and I took a route over the eastern side of the mountains to get back here. We returned just today."

"Today?" Gloria asked. "When? Do you know about the speech Mayor Boyd gave this afternoon?"

Lucien's face darkened, and she knew at once he'd heard it.

"We were just in time to listen," he answered quietly.

"Yeah, Lady Gefjon has smiled down on us," Maximillian said, smiling without joy. "This whole damn town's about to go to war with itself, but at least we don't have to stop 'n' tell the boss about it."

"Oh, I'm just glad you're all back!" Ingrid exclaimed.

She walked over to Claire and hugged her from behind. "Come 'ere, you!"

"Urk!" Claire wheezed as the air was squeezed out her by the girl who sometimes forgot her own strength. She gave Ingrid a weak, awkward grin and reached up, affectionately tapping her arm. "Glad to see you alive, too, Little Pink."

"Ay, the Sheriff's stunt's thrown all out of order," Bedelia approached the table.

She sat down in an empty chair, looking Lucien up and down all the while, getting a read on him.

"Not as badly as I would have thought," Lucien said. "The destruction isn't half as bad as I was anticipating."

"Ain't been a good week, though, Lad," one of the other leaders at the table said. "Everyone's been cullin' wasp nasties since that night. It only didn't get too bad 'cause, accordin' to Maxi and the rest who returned with a few of the refugees, Odin's Valkyrie slew The Wasp Queen."

"Don't know how ye missed it. They practically lit the sky like Yamatoese fireworks," Maximillian said.

"Praise the Valkyrie," Gloria proclaimed.

"Praise the Valkyrie," the rest of the table repeated.

"Praise the Valkyrie," became a reverent utterance through the cellar, moving like a wave into the back corners.

None dared say it too loud less someone might hear them. Lucien remembered the Valkyrie, and seeing what she looked like.

"I still wonder why she looked so much like Platina," he thought.

"Praise the Valkyrie," Lucien repeated.

Maximillian then smiled again. "You shoulda seen it, Boss. Odin's battle maiden and the Wasp Queen dukin' out in the sky above. I'll not forget it."

"We did see some of it," Claire spoke up. Her features tightened in a haunted way. "The Wasp Queen found our half of the group. 'Twas the Wasp Queen which knocked Barren down a hole into the mines. Beat us all senseless when we tried to fight back. Then…"

The whole room went into shock.

"That's how that happened?" Gloria exclaimed.

"How did he even survive if he fell from the cave system, though?" Betty asked from the door.

"He musta been hurt in the fall," Rusty said. "That'd explain how he'd be so easy to catch in the mines. Plenty o' places to hide in there, but a broken leg makes an easy catch."

"You said you saw some of the Valkyrie's battle with the Wasp Queen?" Bedelia inquired.

Claire nodded. "The Wasp Queen was about to have herself a feast of our flesh. Then Odin's Battle Maiden appeared with her Chosen Warriors. Was like a prayer answered."

Everyone around the table leaned in, except Bedelia, and those standing or sitting around the cellar clustered closer.

"You saw her?" a boy in his mid-teens among crowd asked. "Up close?"

"Ay," Lucien answered. "Close enough to see her face and everything."

"What'd she look like?" Ingrid excitedly asked.

Claire's expression soured and she looked at Lucien, who looked down at the table's surface while he rubbed his fingers against the wood in a circle.

"…Like Platina," he seemed to say only to himself.

Some faces turned perplexed, and a few sympathetic stares were cast towards Claire. Most of the crowd just became excited. They crowded around the table. Bedelia looked around with a deep frown.

"Off wit' ye!" she ordered. "Have ye no manners? This is no way to act in council!"

Her voice was drowned out in the sea of voices chattering all at once. Lucien pressed himself against the backrest of his chair, smiling awkwardly at the eager faces. He almost didn't hear their excited questions as everyone began to rapidly shoot them off.

"Whoa!" One large man in plain brown clothes exclaimed. "You actually saw her, up close!"

"Uh, yes, but from behind," Lucien said. "She…"

"Was she a real beaut?" someone else asked.

"Whoa, one at a time," Lucien held up both hands. "And… yes."

"Ha! Knew it!"

"That musta really been someffin! What'd she say?"

"Uh, well…." Lucien tried.

"How'd the fight end up outside the mountains?"

Lucien tried to keep up with the questions, but they were thrown at him like volley of arrows. Amidst the excitement, Maximillian leaned forward to peer around the curious rebels to see Claire. She had shrunk down in her seat. She was clearly uncomfortable with everyone packed in close against the table and the backs of the chairs.

"Platina?" Maximillian asked Claire. He stared off as he tried to remember where he'd heard that name. His eyes widened as it came to him. "That girl from Lucien's old village? The one that died?"

"…Pretty much like Lucien always described her," Claire's voice was a low, frustrated murmur. "Just older. Bright blue eyes, fair skin, silver braided hair, and all."

She didn't meet Maximillian's understanding look.

Bedelia grunted as she was almost knocked face first into the tabletop. She fingers tensed with anger, causing her nails to claw the old wood. Ingrid saw her grandmother knocked forward in her seat, and glared at the rude man who'd done it.

"Hey! Lay off my Grandmother!" the pink-haired girl cried. She jumped up and with her dwarven strength, shoved the man back. She sent him and several others sprawling on the floor. "That'll teach ya!"

"Hey!" the man jumped to his feet.

"Yeah, what?" Gloria also stood.

He looked between Ingrid and Gloria, and gulped before backing away.

"Nothing'… Nothin'…" he whimpered.

"That does it," Bedelia growled.

She stood, slapping her palms against the tabletop.

"YE ALL BE SILENT!" she shouted.

Her voice cut through all others down in that cellar, causing everyone to stop and stare at her. When they looked into the old woman's furious eyes, several of them began slowly backing away while others just froze.

"What's wrong wiff ye all? And what's gotten into ye?" Bedelia demanded. "One mention of a god, and ye forget the Mayor's called Captain Mason and his Cavalry-Breakers from the front to slaughter us? The Mayor and the Sheriff be comin' for us all tomorra!"

Many faces in the crowd looked away with a mix of sheepish embarrassment and grim recollection.

"The tale o' how our Lucien saw one of Odin's Death Choosers be worth hearin', but only after we've gotten ourselves outta Gerebellum!" Bedelia was firm in telling them off. "We have 'til the morrow to get ourselves, and our families out o' this loathly city before the Mayor burns through the whole slum to get us!"

She looked around. Now that the entire congregation had properly shamed back into action, Bedelia looked at Lucien.

"Now if we're all done flappin' our gums, I trust we've been called together to flee while flyin's good?" Bedelia said.

Her eyes panned from side to side before she issued the command, "So, wouldya all sit down and get back to yer stations?"

"Yes, ma'am!"; "Yes, Milady!" several people from around the room said as they reassumed their previous positions.

Lucien, from almost across the entire length of the table, looked at Bedelia with a relieved smile and mouthed, "Thank you."

"Humph!" Bedelia plopped herself back down in her chair, crossing her arms unhappily. "Blasted children, the lot of ye."

She was also annoyed with Lucien for allowing this. Before he'd left, he'd have called the gathering out for losing their heads over something like that. But as of his return, something had changed in the young, hay-haired swordsman. Bedelia could see it. There was something off in his eyes now. A budding illness of the mind that wasn't there before, and she knew what it was. He'd heard the Mayor's speech. Bedelia had already guessed what he was going to purpose, and she planned to be quick to put it down.

"Let's get started," Lucien said.

He turned his attention to the map of the city they had unrolled across the table. They had marked several places on it this time, and placed little tin soldier figurines around its surface, representing where the city guard had began patrolling more frequently. There were also figurines at each of the city gates.

"Were you able to complete the evacuation preparations we discussed before our group set out last time?" Lucien asked.

Maximillian sighed heavily. "Only partially. This business with the Wasp Giants threw everything off. And our supplies are a mess. We keep findin' the buzzy bastards in our storehouses, so it's been rough tryna collect the goods we need to tough it out in the wilderness."

Lucien grimaced. He'd been afraid of that. "Alright. What are our options for escape, then?"

A sandy blonde middle-aged woman who sat across from Maximillian leaned forward to point at some tunnels on the west side of the city.

"We prepared the way out in a few places, like here," she answered.

"The dried-up sewer canal on the west side," Lucien commented, and nodded. "Is the fake wall we put up to replace the real one we knocked down still standing?"

"Ay," a man in the crowd replied. "It's not been disturbed. It looked like the Sheriff's men, or the city guard had just been down there, though. There was prints of their boots in the dirt."

"They were?" Claire turned in her chair to address the man.

The man nodded.

Maximillian took over explaining, "They musta checked to see if we broke through to use it. Our trick wall musta done the trick, 'cause they've not been back since. We've been watchin' for them regularly."

"Is the westside sewer canal our best bet?" Claire asked.

Maximillian and several others looked among themselves, but there did not seem to be an overall consensus.

"What about an alternate route?" Claire asked. "We can't really expect to get everyone out through there without the Sheriff and the good Captain Mason catching on. The exits out to the harbor. They'll be people watching even on normal nights."

The other Silver Saviors again looked among themselves uncertainly.

"There be…" Bedelia reluctantly spoke. "The old side gate near the southeast corner, but it's been locked and barred fer years. The lock might even be rusted through."

"You've not checked?" Rusty asked.

"'Course we checked. Not tried the lock, though or bars, though," Bedelia answered. "Can't leave no sign of disturbin' the door at a time like this."

Claire was about to complain more, but Lucien gently grabbed her hand.

"We should just count ourselves fortunate the Lord Mayor's too much of a penny pincher to have it properly sealed," Lucien purposely said. "Their failure to brick it up is our boon. It can be forced open if worse comes to worse. Any others?"

"There also be that cave by the south shore which connects to the southern corridor of the catacomb," Maximillian said.

"But the Sheriff's men were down there not long ago lookin' for us," Claire asked. "They might have fixed the hole in the catacomb wall."

"They 'aven't," Gloria said. She pointed to Ingrid and then herself. "Granny sent us down there to make sure. It looked like the Undead ran the Sheriff's men out. The hole's still there. We could move a lotta people out through there if we can get enough wards and maybe a maybe Gothar Willem to help."

"What about the beach?" Claire asked. "Do they have anyone watching it?"

Both half-dwarves shook their heads.

"Nay," Ingrid said. "We went 'n' out there the cave. They've not posted any men outside the walls."

"Thank you," Lucien said, looking around the table. "I'm glad you staked out our escape while we were gone. This simplifies things."

Claire snorted skeptically. Lucien ignored her and continued.

"Drudging up enough protective wards for everyone we take through there as well as convincing Gothar Willem to assist them has become a priority, then," Lucien said. "We can leave that to Lewis and Noah, since they practically grew up at St. Asterix's. The Gothi there know them."

"Any others?" Rusty asked.

Maximillian shook his head. "That's it. All four gates're watched now. No more sneakin' out as normal folk."

"That's it?" Claire leaned forward, both worried and agitated. "Just three exits?"

"What about our usual exit to the Turgen Mountains, out through the east sewers?" Gloria asked.

Lucien, Claire, and Rusty all shook their heads.

"No way!" Rusty cried. "We almost got caught getting' in that way today! They got guards watchin' that side close."

"So, that's it, then?" Claire snippily demanded. "A sewer drain that exits into a crowded harbor, Undead-infested tunnels, and a door we don't even know will open, and even if it does, there's at least two hundred ells of open ground overlooked by the city wall just outside it? We'll be target practice for their archers!"

She scoffed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms unhappily.

"Leavin' through the southern beach cave might be our best bet," Ingrid suggested optimistically. "The ground is so rocky and narrow, they can't post many men there. A few good fighters leadin' our escape would clear the way."

"The ground be dangerous for anyone who dares tread there, though" Bedelia pointed out.

"Better than tryin' to dodge arrows fleeing through the southeast gate," someone countered.

Bedelia considered the point, before slowly answering with a drawn out, "Ay."

"I still don't like it," Claire shook her head, biting nervous at one of her nails.

"It be the hand dealt to us," Bedelia told her firmly. "'Twas never gonna be perfect. We knew we was riskin' our lives when we threw in against the slave trade."

"But…" Claire protested.

"Claire," Lucien stopped her. He took her hand and gave it an affirming squeeze. "We'll make do. We always have."

Claire just stared back, clearly not agreeing.

"But, Lucien, what about the kids at Dolce's orphanage?" she asked.

"We'll get them out," Lucien vowed. "I swear on my life. No matter what."

Claire stiffened and looked like she wanted to cry.

"Don't do that," her voice nearly cracked.

Lucien stared back blankly. "Do what?"

"Don't swear on your life," she said. "Just don't."

Lucien clearly still did not see the issue. Sensing an argument coming, Maximillian cleared his throat loudly and scooped forward in his chair.

"The supplies will be bad business," Maximillian said with slightly raised voice. He rested his elbows on the table's top, looking tired. "We'll just hafta make sure hunters and trappers are in each group we smuggle out, 'cause we ain't got enough to last everyone to the nearest towns."

Lucien felt his heart sink. He remembered what it was like trying to survive with next to no supplies out in the northern wilderness in his flight from Coriander Village, after he'd just lost… Lucien mentally skipped that part and focused on the hardships that came after.

"I never thought I'd be grateful for anything my father did, but… He taught me the things that kept me alive out there. The basics of hunting or trapping small prey. I lived to reach a Villnore settlement because of the same man who sold my little sister."

Lucien ground his teeth, hating that he had to offer any measure of gratitude to his father.

"Lucien?" Claire cautiously asked.

His eyes flicked down towards her. Claire was giving him another worried stare.

"It's nothing," he quickly assured her. "I was considering our next step. We'll have to split up duties throughout the city. Everyone hasta gather whatever supplies they can now, cast lots to divide up our evacuation into groups. Use lengths of straw, dice, or whatever else you gotta, so we aren't playing favorites, but every group needs armed guards and experienced outdoorsmen."

Bedelia cleared her throat.

"Or outdoorswomen," Lucien added cheekily.

Lucien looked towards an old man, who sat at the table, with a parchment, ink well, and pen. So far, he'd only written a few things down for the meeting minutes, including a note to gather protective wards and to send some men to speak with the holy man, Willem.

"Old Gharnof," Lucien called to him. "Let's start splitting up the duties."

"Aye, Master Red Swordsman," the aged minute keeper answered.

He took out a stack of blank, crudely made parchments to write on.

Lucien looked around to address the small congregation. "This will be a many-jointed operation. We'll have to play this like clock gearwork. No deviations from your assigned duty, for any reason, except to avoid detection. Everyone understand?"

Many heads nodded, accompanied by "Aye's" and "Yes's" from around the cellar.

"Good," Lucien's tone shifted into an authoritative boldness. "By tonight, we have to have a full evacuation and a rescue under way."

One part of the group smiled and enthusiastically agreed while the other half stared back with hesitation or apprehension. Claire, Rusty, Maximillian, and Gloria particularly paled, knowing he was talking about Barren. Betty had forgotten the door she guarded in her surprise.

"Tch," Bedelia bowed her head, shaking it in disbelief.

She'd known. Oh, she'd known what Lucien would choose. It wasn't hard for Lucien to read the room was split on this announcement. He was about to speak, but Maximillian beat him to it.

"Rescue?" the archer dubiously demanded.

Maxmillian wanted to believe he'd misunderstood what Lucien meant, and didn't even breathe until Lucien answered.

"Yeah," Lucien pushily replied. "We're going to get as many out as we can, and we're going to rescue Barren."

Claire palmed her face, groaning, "Oh, Lucien…"

Rusty sighed and slouched in his seat. "Oh, here we go."

Maximillian gapped, unable to find the words to express in response to the insanity which had just come from Lucien's mouth.

"I know this is asking a lot," Lucien said. "So, we'll keep the rescue team small. We'll scope out the Túr Raghnaill and slip in when we find an opening. We won't even move into the tower until tonight, so the rest of you will already be moving out of the city before we even begin."

Again, while half the congregation nodded their heads, already considering ways they could contribute to gaining entry into the tower, looks of trepidation formed on the faces of others. Maximillian had fallen against the backrest of his seat, arms hanging limply as he listened, falling even deeper into disbelief.

"We won't even let anyone tell the rescue team where you're all going in case we get caught. You'll be in no danger of being found," Lucien explained. "So, we'll select the team members for the rescue first, so we know who to keep in the dark. Next…"

"Damned fool boy," Bedelia's voice cut in loudly from the other end of the table.

She affixed her eyes squarely on Lucien. As everyone stared at her, they were silent, whether they agreed with her or not. Lucien looked a little hurt from her words, but she did not relent.

"What?" was Lucien's astonished reply.

Bedelia sharply took in air and stood to speak. "I said yer a damned fool boy."

"Thank the gods," Claire thought, for someone like Bedelia to challenge this insanity.

Her sentiment was echoed by half the room who were just glad to see one of the other high-up members challenge Lucien's plan. But while one man was relieved, the man next to him crossed his arms and scowled at Bedelia.

"'Ave you lost yer senses, Lucien?" Bedelia's voice stayed just below a shout. "Ye said ya heard The Lord Mayor. Barren's in The Pit! Under the Túr Raghnaill! That fort be where they station the army and city guard. All o' them rest their heads between us an' Barren. Now there's also Captain Mason and his men."

Bedelia then firmed her jaw as she stared Lucien down, challenging him to refute her. Murmurs broke out around the room as the congregation all began to discuss or argue about it, themselves.

"That's true, ain't ye ever seen the walls around the tower? How do we scale that?"

"Somebody could slip in and open one o' the gates for us."

"HA! Yeah, right!"

"We could slip in with the servants."

Lucien coughed before answering Bedelia. Claire and Rusty sat forward, both silently praying he just backed down.

"I know this is asking a lot…"Lucien said.

"No, Boy, you be askin' the impossible," Bedelia cut him off. "Now, if ye're done askin' for volunteers to join ye in Valhalla, we have a city full of refugees slaves an' our own families to get outside these walls by tonight before the whole slum is set ablaze."

By now, Lucien was becoming angry, but he remembered his manners and for her to finish.

"How is it impossible, Elder Bedelia?" he asked. "No fortress is impenetrable."

A frustrated growl escaped Bedelia.

"I know it be impossible, Boy!" she shot back. "Or 'ave ye forgotten I used to work for the old king? Take it from someone who put her ear to the ground for 'im and sent his rivals to be sorted by the gods, only death awaits he who enters Túr Raghnaill and The Pit."

"I knew it," Lucien said in triumph. "You've been inside Túr Raghnaill."

"Aye, and what of it? Bedelia demanded with slitted eyes. "As if a few half-gone memories'll be of any use. You'll not find any sagely advice here, Boy."

Lucien stared back with stubborn, fierce eyes.

"If you still remember anything about how to enter the tower and The Pit, I'd have you tell us," he spoke tensely. "There must be secrets about the tower and Pit only an agent of the old king would have know…"

"There's nothin'!" Bedelia fired back. "I've no instruction to give save to tell ye to stop being such a child! Ye think Barren would want ye throw away all we've worked for these past winters now?"

"I can't just abandon him," Lucien blurted out. "That wouldn't be right."

"But it's right to waste time arguin' over this when there be things to be done?" Bedelia argued.

Lucien and Bedelia's angry, unwieldy expressions practically mirrored each other's. Maximillian looked between then, knowing someone had to interject.

"She's right, ye know," Maximillian told Lucien. "There's nothin' we can do for Barren. All we can do is save everyone we still can."

Lucien looked like Maximillian had just punched him.

"So, that's it, then?" Lucien asked. "After all this time, we're really going to leave one of our own behind. Through thick and thin, we've always been there for each other, watching each other's backs and doing good."

"Lucien…" Claire emphatically muttered.

"Hey!" Maximillian slapped his palm against the table. "I ain't any happier about it, but we got plenty o' other people to worry about, too."

"Even though he's the one who helped you find Betty?" Lucien asked.

"Lucien!" Claire scolded.

From the door, Betty silently gasped. Maximillian shot up from his seat, furiously sticking his finger in Lucien's face. Rusty gave Lucien a rare defiant look, thinking that guilt trip was a low blow.

"You leave my daughter outta this!" Max's voice and face were a nasty snarl. "Don't you dare tryda guilt me! Yeah, Barren helped me find my Betty. And now that I've got 'er back, I won't lose her again!"

"Ye Yeller?" someone from the crowd jeered.

Maximillian spun about, knocking his chair over in the process.

"Who said that?" he challenged. "I'll show you Yeller when I feed ye yer teeth!"

"Alright, alright, cut it out!" Lucien barked before the whole room broke into an argument.

"But…"

"Hey!" Lucien pointed right at the man who'd mocked Maximillian. "I don't wanna hear anything like that again! If you got nothing worth saying, keep it clamped shut! And apologize to Max."

"But ye also…"

"Yeah, and it was wrong of me," Lucien stopped him. He turned to Maximillian contritely. "I'm sorry."

With things cooled down, Lucien continued.

"But, Barren's our friend," he asserted. "And he did no less than anyone else for The Silver Saviors these past years. John…"

He pointed at a man in the crowd.

"Aye," John said.

He was middle-aged with gray hair that had only a few remnants of pigmentation left. His muscular form and dark tan were both marks of a man who worked outdoors.

"I believe it was Barren who arranged for your family to hide here in the slums when you couldn't keep up with last year's tax hike," Lucien said.

John paused, and then answered, "Ay. I try not to think about what woulda become of me girls if he hadn't recruited me."

Bedelia and Claire's gazes locked as Lucien called on a few more people who Barren had specifically helped in the past. It was a sober and silent exchange, knowing the hay-haired young man was going to win the crowd. At her grandmother's side, Ingrid's eyes trailed off to stare at no particular thing in the room. There was a guilty glint behind her pinkish irises.

"Hey, you, Pinkie?"

"Eh?" a younger Ingrid stopped and turned.

From the shadows of the alleyway, a man she came to know as Barren emerged. He was a handsome dark-haired young man in a partially unbuttoned red shirt and black pants He looked around cautiously, like a felon hoping to avoid detection by the mine town's guards. Ingrid's fingers tightened around the pickax she had resting on her shoulder. She'd wait until he made the first move, but if this stranger thought he was going to catch her off-guard, he had another thing coming.

"You don't know me, but I've got some information for you," he said. "Ye know that new contract the mining company is going to have you and the rest of the miners sign tomorrow."

Ingrid's brow furrowed, wondering how he knew about that.

"…What of it?" she demanded.

"Don't sign it," Barren told her. "There's some dirty language slipped into the fine print. If you sign, you'll be indentured to the Coalpepper company for the next twenty years, or until you can pay the fee to get free, whichever comes first. I wouldn't count on paying it off before then, though. You'll have to accept whatever pay they're willing to give you, no arguments. And you'll have to go where they say, no matter how dangerous or how far away."

"Humph!" she stuck up her nose at him. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because…" Barren reached into his shirt.

Ingrid tensed, unshouldering her pick, and gripping it in both hands in case he did anything. Barren noticed her fear, and then slowly pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper.

"You didn't get this from me," he said. He held it out for her to take. "I'd show this to the other miners and give it a good lookover with 'em."

"What is it?" Ingrid asked with a raised brow.

"A copy of the contract that'll sign your life away," Barren answered.

She looked at the scroll suspiciously, but with her dwarven vision, she could tell it hadn't been treated with any poisons or curses. So, she reluctantly took it and unrolled it. Ingrid only intended to skim its contents, but then she saw the official wax seal of Lord Coalpepper at its upper right corner. She also recognized the handwriting of one of his scribes.

"How did you get this?" she whispered.

Barren just winked and put a finger to his lips as he retreated back into the shadows.

"If you wanna thank me. Bring your pals to Dead Man's Meadow tomorrow night. A friend and I'll be waiting for ya all," he said.

Now alone, Ingrid considered what he said a moment longer before giving the parchment in her hand another look. She scanned her surroundings and then nestled herself into a discreet corner as she began reading it in earnest.

"Workers are guaranteed a twenty-year extension on their contract with Coalpepper Mining upon signing…" Ingrid thought that sounded good, but Barren's warning made her wary. She screwed her lips to the side as she slowly went through the words until she found it. "Here we go… 'Terms of Stipulations'… Hoo. That is awfully small handwritin'…"

She leaned closer, squinting as she carefully went over every line. Then her face fell into a limp, slack-jawed stare of shock before it turned into an angry snarl.

"Those no good, low down…!" she hissed.

She rolled the scroll back up and looked around.

"Nobody's signing that contract tomorrow if I've anything to say about it," she swore.

The next day, Lord Coalpepper's workforce didn't show up to sign the binding contract which would have enslaved them for the two decades of their lives. As such, it wasn't hard for him to figure out the missing copy of the contract had found its way to them, especially after it became difficult to find replacement workers in light of the mass desertion of his mines.

Ingrid felt torn as she sat down in the mint's cellar while recalling these events.

"Lucien, you can't go into The Pit," she heard Claire speak. "We'll need you tonight for the escape."

"I'll be there," Lucien answered. "After I bust Barren out. Now, I'm going with or without anyone's help. I've already made up my mind."

Claire was nearly in tears as she begged, "But you can't!"

It tore at Lucien's heart to see her so desperate. Her begging eyes almost made his resolve crumble, but the thought of just leaving Barren to his fate made him hold his ground.

"I didn't leave Platina behind then, and I won't leave Barren behind now," he promised himself.

"I have to," Lucien gravely replied. "I'm sorry, Claire."

Claire deflated and fell back into her seat, trembling as she tried not to cry.

"You fool," she moaned.

Lucien took a step back and began his own speech, "We owe it to each other to look out for one another, and to come to each other's aid in times of need. Right now, one of our own is rotting in The Pit. I can't think of a time any of us have ever been in more need than today. So, what say you? Who will be joining me tonight to enter The Pit and save our friend?"

Lucien looked at Claire, who turned away. Then at Rusty, who wouldn't meet his gaze. Maximillian glanced first at Claire in her distraught state and shook his head.

"Worryin' yer woman like that, Lucien. Shame on you," Maximillian thought.

Betty stood by the cellar's main door, silently listening, and considering the discussion playing out.

"That's right. Barren was there with Dad when they found me," she thought. "If they hadn't come right then, I'd still be stuck… there."

She tried to push the horrible memory aside. Betty glanced at her father. Maximillian had made his refusal very clear. At the far end of the table, Bedelia was as resolutely against it as before, but her granddaughters looked torn. From the crowd, there were a number of volunteers.

"Alright, Taran, Joe, Quint, Thalia…" Lucien began picking from the volunteers.

The four he'd chosen already came forward and lined behind him at the head of the table.

"Now let me see," Lucien thought. "Five more should do it for a small ten-man band."

"I'll go, too."

That offer had come from the door. Maximillian's breathing stopped as his head turned towards the voice of his daughter. Betty stepped forward, leaving her post by the door. Someone else took her place guarding it. As Betty approached the meeting table, Lucien beamed and nodded. Maximillian was horrified and having trouble processing what she was doing.

"Of course, we'd be glad to have you," Lucien answered. "You've always been a resourceful scout."

Maximillian looked towards him, incredulous and with a temper that was hanging by a hair.

"Yeah," Betty answered their leader. "After everything. I'll be glad to help Barren the way he helped Dad and me."

"Betty. Betty!" Maximillian hissed at her. Betty looked at her father, and he shook his head vigorously, "No."

"I have to," she answered resolutely.

"No, ye don't," Maximillian insisted, and then he jabbed his pointer finger against the table. "In fact, I forbid it! You ain't goin'."

Betty grimaced, but did not scowl at her father.

"This is my choice, Dad. I'm not a child," she insisted.

"Ye be my child!" Maximillian protested. "And you. Are. Not. Going."

Betty and Maximillian stared at each other for a little while.

"Sorry Dad," she said.

Then she began to walk around the side of the table opposite of him. Maximillian was beyond dumbfounded as she went to Lucien's side. He could already picture what would happen when this suicide mission went bad. She'd be dead by a guard's spear like so many others who went against the Sheriff and Mayor. But Betty was a young woman now. Not a child, and she'd chosen to go.

Maximillian growled and slammed his fist against the table.

"Oh, damn it all!" he shouted. He turned and pointed at Betty, who had stepped up beside Lucien. "No, ye ain't goin'!"

Betty crossed her arms, but Maximillian spoke first.

"'Cause I'll do it," Maximillian pointed at himself with thumb.

"Huh?" were several stunned replies. Lucien and Betty among those who had blurted out the surprised response.

"Gods help me, I'll do it," Maximillian rolled his eyes up wearily. His eyes turned to meet his daughter's again, "So, you just get out of the city with the others tonight, 'kay, Betty?"

"What? No!" Betty cried. "Like Hel I'm lettin' you go into The Pit alone."

Lucien leaned forward, resting his palms on the table.

"It's alright, Betty. We'll watch each other's backs in there," he said. "No point in risking both of you."

Betty wasn't quite ready to stand down just yet.

"None o' what we do is safe, Betty," Maximillian said. "This ain't any different from any other time. So, please. Just let yer Ol' Man handle this one thing for ye, and I'll never take another mission like this again. 'Kay?"

Betty thought it over. He was practically pleading with her to stand down. She gave in and backed away from the table.

"Alright," she answered.

Maximillia's relief was immeasurable as he sauntered over to Lucien's group.

"We can count on you?" Lucien asked him.

"Aye, Cap'n," he muttered.

"Alright," Lucien agreed.

He nodded for Betty to return to her post.

"Go on. It's fine," Lucien told her.

Betty scratched her cheek awkwardly before slowly sidestepping away. Maximillian had to admit he was a little annoyed she obeyed Lucien, but not him. Ingrid sat, watching the whole argument, glancing nervously at Bedelia now and again. She was still torn, knowing it was only right for her to help Barren when his warning saved her from an unfair twenty yearlong contract, even if he was acting on Lucien's orders. Bedelia would never hear of it, but…

"What should I do?" Ingrid fretted.

"Alright, Taran, Joe, Quint, Thalia, and Maximillian," Lucien said. "Any other volunteers."

"Oh, sod it," Ingrid decided.

She raised her hand.

"I volunteer!" Ingrid proudly proclaimed.

Gloria stared in confusion as she stood up. Bedelia scowled and grabbed her hand.

"No, ye don't. Sit yerself back down, fool girl!" she rasped.

Ingrid stared back in defiance. A look Bedelia had not often seen.

"No Granny!" the pink-headed girl rebuked her. "Lucien's right. Everyone here owes Lucien, Claire, and Barren so much. We wouldn't even be here to help the poor and helpless right now if not for them. I'm going. This is my choice, Granny. I have to help them."

"I refuse to let ye go!" Bedelia said. "Ye'll be leaving' wit' Gloria and meself tonight."

"How do you intend to stop me, Granny?" Ingrid demanded.

Grandmother and grandchild stubbornly scowled at each other. Bedelia turned to Gloria.

"Child, help me put some sense back into yer cousin. This be madness! Glori…" Bedelia trailed off.

Gloria was staring off guiltily, refusing to meet her grandmother's eyes. The blonde half-dwarf eyes looked to Lucien's small gathering.

"We… do owe Lucien, Claire, and Barren a lot, Grandmama," she said.

Bedelia clutched at her heart as she gone cold all of a sudden.

"Not ye too…" she whispered.

Gloria looked down at her lap, gripping her knees with her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating a slap on the cheek after her next words:

"I'm sorry, Granny, but they decided our problems were their business. We can't just decide Barren's is none of ours' now."

Bedelia just sat there, looking from one granddaughter to the other for a long moment. Ingrid reached out, and grabbed Bedelia by the shoulder, but gently.

"They'll need you out there in the wilds, Granny," she said softly. "Don't you worry about us. We'll take care of each other and get Barren out. I love you, Grandmother."

Bedelia was still frozen when both her girls hugged her tight. She barely remembered to reach up and wrap her arms around their backs. Then Ingrid and Gloria both gave the old woman a kiss on her cheeks and then left her side to go join Lucien's rescue group. Both girls had gotten a few paces away when Bedelia found her voice.

"Ye can't!" she hoarsely cried, getting up from her seat. "Don't yet understand? This is suicide. Ye'll get yerself killed if ye do this."

Gloria and Ingrid stopped and looked back at her.

"Likely," Gloria admitted. "But we can't just abandon our friends."

"I'm sorry, Granny, but like Betty, we have to do this," Ingrid said.

Bedelia had to support herself against the table. She felt light-headed and weak in the knees watching them go over and volunteer themselves. For a moment, it was like watching the world from outside as a strange dissociative unreality settled into the old woman.

"My girls… they're going to… get themselves killed," on that thought, Bedelia snapped back to reality, clenching her fists against the table top.

"Down to the deeps!" she angrily thought.

She thumped the table's surface with one her hand and walked around its side towards the others. She stopped behind Maximillian and Rusty.

"Excuse me," Bedelia said.

Ingrid and Gloria looked over their shoulders, and then stepped aside to let her by. Lucien noticed Bedelia as she came up beside him.

"Elder?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Granny?" Ingrid exclaimed.

Bedelia sighed in defeat.

"Fine, then, if ye all won't be talked outta it. I suppose this old crone hasta tag along and keep ye from getting' into too much mischief," she said. "I'll come, too."

Lucien smiled warmly, and was about to say something.

"I ain't comin' fer ye!" Bedelia shot down whatever praise he was about to give her. "This is a fool's errand, but ye need not plan how to enter The Pit. Like ye thought… There be a secret way in."

Everyone stared, either astonished or feeling vindicated in their suspicions. Claire studied the old woman.

"Wait, does this mean this mission has a chance?" the redheaded thief thought.

Lucien, Betty, and Maximillian were all relieved. Rusty just snorted and turned away, still refusing to participate.

"Really?" Claire asked hopefully, looking up at the elder from her seat.

"I thought as much," Lucien said confidently.

"Aye," Bedelia admitted. "Only the old king's elites, officers, and we assassins knew about it. Meet me tonight at Mammem graveyard. I'll show ye how to get straight into The Pit without needin' to bother wit' the tower."

"Mammem graveyard. Tonight. Understood," Lucien nodded. "We'll be there."

"That's just a few blocks northwest of the Túr Raghnaill and The Pit," Maximillian ruminated. "I always did wonder why the sewer canals ran 'round that area, instead of through. Guess we know now."

"Ay," Bedelia answered. "Smells like a sewer tunnel, too. Hopin' ye weren't expectin' nothing too special."

"We'll take whatever we can get," Lucien said. "Again, thank you, Elder Bedelia."

"Ye shouldn't be so excited," Bedelia grimly told them all. "The passage gets us into The Pit, but we be venturin' into the deepest pit of Hel in all Gerebellum. Before this night be done, ye'll wish ye'd listened to me. Assuming any of ye live to regret it."

Lucien couldn't argue. However, instead of letting himself doubt the validity of their mission, he turned his attention to getting their tenth and final recruit.

"That's nine," Lucien said. "There's room for one more."

Claire sighed, and reluctantly raised her hand. Lucien was a little surprised at this turn of events.

"Are you sure, Claire?" he emphatically asked. "There's no shame in spiriting the women and children out of Gerebellum tonight. I'll gladly…"

"Just shut up, you big dummy," Claire rose from her chair. She scratched her hair as she gave Lucien a gruff staring down. "I said I'd go. I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

"Thank you," Lucien said.

He was touched deeply by the sentiment.

"Alright. That's Taran, Joe, Quint, Thalia, Maximillian, Ingrid, Gloria, Bedelia, Claire, and me," Lucien counted them all off. "That is a ten-person band."

Rusty could not believe Claire had just volunteered herself. Claire glanced at him. Her eyes told Rusty she was still aware it was a bad idea, but the dummy in red armor needed someone watching his back. Rusty returned it with a stare telling her she was insane for going along with it before burying his face against the wooden surface of the table.

Lucien faced the congregation again.

"Now, let's divide up duties among those who will be escorting our non-combatant members and families out. Old Gharnof, you ready with that pen and parchment?"


"A shipment? Whatever do you need me for while inspecting this cargo? I have men to prepare for tonight."

"Patience, Captain Mason," Agatha answered.

She snapped her fingers. Several workers walked on ahead, approaching a line of freshly imported, unmarked crates in the warehouse behind the Sheriff's headquarters. They had prybars and wore thick gloves for protection. Mason blow air out his mouth as he and Sheriff Agatha watched them begin to work away at the lids of the crates. The works first pried some of the nails loose before wedging the straight ends of their tools in the space between the lids and the sides of the wooden boxes.

Mason felt his eye wander. The room was large and moderately lit with torchlight, but the captain could see all manner of supplies from spare uniforms to gear and weapons arranged all over. Some hung out in the open from the walls while others still sat in closed chests. One box next to him had its lip on crooked and he could see the new lances stacked neatly within. There was also a row of empty suits of armor lined up along the wall to their right.

"Must for when they're expecting a crime investigation to turn into a warzone," Mason thought.

A loud crack rang out and then echoed through the storage area. Mason looked upon the crates again as their lids were pushed away. He and Agatha approached them and looked inside. Right away, Mason was confused.

"Bolts and crossbows?" he asked. "You brought me here for this?"

"Yes," Agatha answered.

The Sherrif then picked up one of the crossbows from the crates and then a single bolt from one of the many quivers in another box. She loaded it the weapon and then aimed it at one of the suits of empty armor along the wall.

"Observe," Agatha said.

Mason eyebrows quirked, but he turned his attention to the plated armor suit she was pointing the crossbow at.

Twang! FFF=fffew! Clunk!

Mason and the workers all gasped. The crossbow bolt had pierced through the iron chest-plate. The cavalry captain turned to Agatha, disbelieving what he'd just witnessed.

"What… sorcery is this?" he asked.

"No sorcery, dear Captain," Agatha smirked back at him. "Merely scientific progress."

She smugly looked upon the armored suit with the pierced chest-plate again. The bolt had gone in up to the feathers. Had a man been wearing it, he'd be dead that very moment.

"Armor piercing," she said. "If all else fails and we still cannot trap the Silver necklaces man-to-man, we may have to do things… less honorably."

"I see you are leaving nothing to chance," Mason keenly uttered.

"I never leave anything to chance," Agatha answered. "Now, I want the archers in your unit armed with these within the hour."


"I sense the pull of the threads of fate. A new warrior soon falls, perhaps," Lenneth thought.

Even in Asgard, she felt herself being called. It was late afternoon and after her briefing with Odin, Freya, and Loki. In fact, that had been hours ago, and she had dismissed her einherjar from training for the day. Lenneth had decided to take up temporary residence in the palace library, nestled in with a favorite book of hers'. It was a pure nonsense tale of a man raised by a dwarf who fell in love with a goddess he awoke from an enchanted sleep.

"Such nonsense," Lenneth had had to admit many a time. "Odin's punishments are never so odd or reversible."

Yet, she could not help but go back to the tale time and again. How it had ended up in nestled in the grand library of the Golden Hall, even the royal librarians weren't entirely sure. They hadn't pitched it, though, since some of the goddesses seemed to like it. The librarians' best guess was that an einherjar must have brought it and got it placed on the shelf somehow.

Now, Lenneth found her reading time interrupted by the draw of the threads of fate. She marked her page, shut the book, and left the table. Its other occupant looked up from her own reading at the Valkyrie's sudden movement.

"Lenneth?" Idunn asked.

Lenneth stopped and glanced back.

"'Tis nothing," she told the other goddess. "Fate calls. Please excuse me. I must concentrate a moment."

"Oh! Of course," Idunn kept her voice low.

Lenneth tuned away to seek solitude. Before she was gone, the other goddess found herself curious and leaned over the table, getting a look at the book her friend had been reading.

"Sigurd and Brynhilde again, Lenneth?" Idunn teased.

Lenneth simply cast her a slight grin and a shrug. Then the Valkyrie disappeared behind a row of books as she sought a quiet, unpopulated corner of the library to meditate in. She found it behind some old records in a relatively unlit part of the vast room. Lenneth faced the corner as she began her spiritual concentration. Her mind became flooded with powerful negative emotions.

"Oh, such turmoil in this soul," Lenneth thought.

Then the echoes of things to come, things currently happening, and things past came to her. She heard a young and exuberant voice of a pubescent boy.

"Just you wait, Sis. When I'm grown up, I'll get us out of this dirtwater village and be the world's greatest adventurer!"

"I know that voice. I've heard it before," Lenneth felt a lump grow in her throat. "Why am I reacting like this?"

A young girl giggled. "You better, Lucien. I'll be holding you to it."

"What, you don't trust your bigger brother?" Lucien said with faux-offense.

"Lucien!" Lenneth realized. "That's… his voice when he was a mere boy?"

Then she heard him at the age he was now, as the young man she'd met twice in the Gerebellum region.

"Even the kids are worrying about me now," Lucien muttered unhappily. "What's wrong with me lately?"

Then she heard his child self again. He shouted in grief,

"What kind of sickness just makes someone disappear! We don't have money for a doctor," his shaky, moaning wail of a voice was barely comprehensible now. "No body. Just gone. There were horse tracks and wheels marks in the dirt behind our house. They must have come in the night. While I was sleeping."

It felt like someone had released ice into Lenneth's system. The chills sweeping through her nicked at every corner of her being. It seemed as though those grieving words had been said to her, but how? Lenneth didn't have long to ponder it, or to untangle why she was unhappy at the prospect of Lucien being soon to die. Her mind was assaulted with the sounds of a raging fire, the kind that'd swallow a whole city. Shouts, screams, and pleas faintly echoed amid the crackling of fire. Lenneth also heard the hooves of horses, the clash of steel, and an army's worth of thunderous footsteps.

"I don't wanna be left alone again…" Lucien's lament sounded loudly, drowning the rest out.

The sounds of fire raged even more loudly.

Then a woman's voice she almost recognized wailed, "They've sent the army with the city guard and The Iron Lady's deputies! Just like Elder Bedelia warned us they would!"

"What have we done?" a man with a throaty voice cried. "They be comin' for us!

"But we haven't even gotten all the children out yet!" the woman cried.

Then a sheer, bloodcurdling scream of a child rang earsplittingly in Lenneth's mind. The goddess almost reached to clap her hands over her ears.

"Mommy!" the child wailed through agonized tears.

His cry was followed by the voice of small girl, wringing out words as though she was in so much pain, it was difficult to speak, "It... hurts…"

Clash of steel rang out again before she heard the woman again.

"I don't want to die!" the familiar-sounding woman cried. "Lu- Lucien! You can't just leave me!"

Then it was over, and Lenneth knew she was called to Gerebellum. She already knew Lucien was a chosen soul from her previous visits, and now his time had come.

"What troubling resonance," Lenneth unintentionally said with a mourning which surprised even herself.

The screams of the children replayed in her head, making the Valkyrie shudder.

"What monsters… will commit this deed?" she uttered.

"Did you say something, Lady Lenneth?"

Lenneth's sharp gasp almost turned into a cry in her startled state. The Valkyrie clapped a hand over her mouth as she turned to whoever had spoken to her. Behind her was an equally surprised elven librarian, awkwardly holding an armful of books that had nearly fallen from his grasp after he had jumped in response to Lenneth's outburst. The two stared at each other awkwardly.

Lenneth coughed into her fist and then approached the librarian, and straightened the books for him.

"Oh, thank you," he deeply said.

"'Twas nothing," Lenneth humbly replied.

"Not to me," the elf said. Another moment of silence passed between them, and then he asked, "What were you saying, Lady Lenneth?"

"'Tis nothing," Lenneth told him. "Now, I shan't keep you from your duties."

"Uh… Of course, Lady Lenneth," The librarian uncomfortably answered.

He went quickly on his way. Standing in silence, Lenneth had a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I will tell my einherjar. I think he will be joining us tonight, or very early in the morning. We must be on Midgard so I can choose him," she thought. "I must collect them. It appears we venture down to Midgard, after all, today."

First, she returned to where she had been reading and placed the book back on the shelf.

"Done reading for the day?" Idunn asked.

"Yes," Lenneth answered, pointedly staring off. "A soul calls to me."

"Oh!" Idunn marked her page and closed the book. "Must you leave right now?"

"Yes," the Valkyrie repeated. "He breathes his last mortal breath tonight. Please, excuse me, Idunn."

"Oh, you needn't ever ask to be excused on my account," Idunn chimed.

The two goddesses curtsied to each other and then Lenneth left the nature goddess to her own reading. The Valkyrie cast her eye on Sigurd and Brynhilde one last time before she walked past.

"Too bad," Lenneth thought. "I was hoping for a peaceful evening."


"No shit? Good job, kid," Arngrim congratulated.

Llewelyn just chuckled humbly as the large warrior clapped him on the shoulder. He and Lenneth's current einherjar were seated at one end of a long table. Other einherjar that'd been there much longer were at other tables, giving the little group their privacy.

"Oh, it was nothing," Llewelyn insisted with a shrug. "It was Lord Ull's plan to have me wait in a tree near one of giant general's study windows. Any of the archers under his command could have taken that shot."

"But he chose you, the newcomer," Belenus pointed out. He raised a hornful of mead in toast to their former comrade. "The Aesir are obviously pleased with your skill. So, cheers, lad."

"Cheers!" Arngrim, Lawfer, Jelanda, and Nanami echoed, raising their own horns.

Janus quietly raised his own and took a drink. With his remaining eye, he studied the group's previous archer. The boy almost bashfully shrunk down, smiling like a child at his birthday party.

"This boy has seen combat?" that didn't seem real to Janus.

"Muspelheim, though. That must have been scary," Nanami noted. She leaned toward Llewelyn from her side of the dining table. "Scripture says it's a horrible place. A land of fire and rock."

"Eh…" Llewelyn shrugged. "In some places. It has nice, really humid but hot jungles, too. Full of animals you've never even imagined. There's more than just the Fire Giants, and their pals from Jotunheim and Vanaheim to worry about. The wildlife's dangerous, too."

"Worse than trolls and vampires?" Jelanda asked.

Llewelyn had to think to qualify that in his own mind before he could properly answer.

"Eh… more like just as bad in their own way," he said.

Jelanda smirked, and impishly asked him, "So, you didn't get scared or anything?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Llewelyn vigorously replied.

"Oh… Oh!" was Jelanda's surprised utterance.

Her comment had been in jest. She hadn't exactly expected Llewelyn to confess to being terrified by his new duties in Muspelheim so easily. Llewelyn then grinned almost boyishly, having so much to tell them.

"Yeah," Llewelyn said in a low voice. "They've a lot of big things in Muspelheim. They got these big, gray-skinned things the size of a house. They're built kinda like bulls but with thicker legs that end with big ol' round feet with rounded toenails. Or I think those are toenails."

Arngrim's right brow lifted as Llewelyn paused. The boy had to mull over how to describe the creatures before continuing.

"Anyway," the boy suddenly continued. "Anyway, these things are bald with wrinkly gray skin, and these big ol' ears!"

Llewelyn held up his hands with the fingers straight by his ears.

"They're ears are almost like wings. Any bigger and they could fly wiff 'em! And they've got these tusks by their noses. And their nose… it's like a tail with nostrils at the end. They can even use it to suck up water and shoot it back out like a geyser in any direction!"

The other einherjar sat in silence as their similarly did their best to let their imaginations constructs the creature in their minds.

"…Interesting," Lawfer muttered.

"Lord Ull calls them Oliphants," Llewelyn said.

"Do they ride them like horses?" Jelanda excitedly asked.

"Close," Llewelyn replied. "They pull the Fire Giants' war machines and wagons. There's this big battering ram four of them Oliphants wheeled up to our fort."

It was here Llewelyn trailed off and stared at nothing particular as though he realized how lucky he was to still exist, even as a soul.

"They called the battering ram Gram…" he muttered. "They almost got through. One more whammy and the gate would've given out."

"How'd you stop them?" Arngrim asked.

"Lords Vidar and Tyre suddenly dropped out of the sky and blew it up," Llewelyn answered.

Arngrim leaned back with a grunt, clearly disappointed at that anticlimax. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised the gods kept the best part for themselves. Heaven forbid the einherjar be the ones responsible for a victory. The others were impressed, though.

"Whoa, you got to watch Lords Vidar and Tyre in action?" Jelanda squealed.

"Heh heh," Llewelyn tried to shrug it off. "…They are way more powerful than Lord Ull. Lord Ull's…"

Llewelyn quieted down, not wanting to be heard by outside ears. "Actually, Lord Ull doesn't seem much more powerful than Lady Valkyrie. His bow can fire a whole volley once he's activated his Soul Crush, but he mostly just floats in the air and shoots energy arrows, now that I think of it."

Something about that made the edges of Arngrim's mind itch. He didn't know why, though. Throughout the conversation, Janus had observed Llewelyn's manner. His initial impression of the boy seemed to hold up. Llewelyn seemed like he would more at home hunting deer or farming than on the battlefield.

"Pardon me," Janus spoke up. "Llewlyn?"

"Hmm? Yes, what is it?" Llewelyn answered politely. "Janus, correct?"

"Yes," Janus nodded. "I can tell by your accent that you hail from Crell Monferaigne, same as me."

"That's right," Llewelyn said. "I'm from Little Monferaigne, the town just south of the capital. My father was a hunter."

"I see," Janus answered. "If you do not mind me asking, what was your prior experience on the battlefield before meeting Lady Valkyrie?"

Llewelyn took a deliberate sip from his horn before answering.

"Nothing too special," he confessed. "I was in a few battles in the navy. Then, some Flenceburg battle mages sunk our ship. I…"

Llewelyn stared into his empty horn.

"I drowned with my comrades," he somberly answered. "Lady Valkyrie splinted my broken soul by making me an einherjar."

Janus now felt like he'd pried too far. He had simply been curious and was leading to asking the boy's age. Now, he was having second thoughts.

"I am sorry. Forget I asked," the assassin relented.

"No, it's alright," Llewelyn insisted. "Everyone else was there with Lady Valkyrie when she chose me, so they know everything, anyway. It wouldn't be right to just leave the new guy in the dark."

A minute passed, and then Janus asked, "Is that so?"

"Might need to try breaking the ice a different way," Llewelyn thought.

"Yeah, I know that's not the most exciting way to die," the young archer admitted. "Just being thrown overboard running to the longboats. I'm sure you were expecting something grander."

Janus instead just shrugged.

"I've heard of worse," the assassin nonchalantly answered.

"Like tryna break into spy central at the capital?" Arngrim inquired.

Llewelyn expression was at first blank before his eyes slowly widened. His gaze went from Janus to Arngrim, and back, seeking confirmation. Janus sighed and nodded, mouthing "Yeah."

"You did what?" Llewelyn whisper-yelled.

Janus grimaced, shooting Arngrim a look. Belenus made a point of taking a long drink from his horn. Lawfer lightly punched Arngrim's shoulder, getting a faux-innocent "What?" shrug from the big man.

"Thank you, Arngrim," Janus's voice dripped with sarcasm.

The large mercenary just chuckled and leaned back on the bench.

"Oh, your unit has returned already, Llewelyn?"

"Lady Valkyrie!" Llewelyn cried.

He shot up from his seat and faced the goddess, standing at attention. Lawfer, Belenus, Jelanda, Nanami, and Janus did the same while only Arngrim remained seated. He just turned partially around on the bench. The group was surprised to see Lenneth was in her battle gear. They all had the same question on their minds, but Lenneth spoke first.

"I am surprised to see you back so soon, Llewelyn," the Valkyrie said. "I gather Ull's mission to Muspelheim went well, then."

"Ay, Lady Valkyrie," Llewelyn timidly smiled. "It was just a short mission there. We were really only went there to take out General Bran and retrieve some battle plans."

That got Arngrim's attention.

"That why the Fire Giants laid siege to Ull's outpost with the Oli-whatevers and the big battering ram?" he asked.

Llewelyn hunched a bit, again looking uneasy to speak ill of the god who commanded him.

"It wasn't a clean getaway, but I shouldn't say anything," Llewelyn drearily admitted.

Lenneth clicked her tongue, already having an idea of what happened.

"I believe I can surmise what occurred. Ull had you all in too close to the fort to avoid detection," she said.

Llewelyn turned his lips inward as he resisted the urge to answer that.

"Uh-huh," Lenneth nodded in answer to her own question. "I thought so. That boy… he has lived to see millennia and still makes amateur slipups. This is why Lord Odin's not admitted him into the Asgard Council despite his rank."

"You know your fellow gods well, Milady," Llewelyn meekly said, indirectly confirming her theory.

"I know my family," Lenneth stated. She looked around at those still currently under her command, then. "Now to business."

"Is everything alright, Lady Valkyrie?" Lawfer asked. "You seem ready for battle."

"As I should," Lenneth answered. "I have just sensed another warrior who is soon to fall, perhaps this very night. We must return to Midgard at once."

"Alright! Finally, some more action!" Arngrim jumped up from the bench. He flashed his teeth with his usual cocky lopsided grin. "Where we goin', Valkyrie?"

"To Gerebellum," Lenneth answered.

Llewelyn involuntarily flinched at the name, as did Nanami and Jelanda.

"Ugh…" Jelanda moaned, grimacing.

She still remembered the dark, ramp caverns of the Turgen Mountains all too well, and her skinned crawled at the memory of the Wasp Giants. Beside her, Nanami was quietly going through a similar sensation, and hoped they weren't going back in there. Lawfer and Belenus didn't exactly look thrilled, either. Llewelyn looked over his shoulder at his former outfit, giving them a look of sympathy. It wasn't hard for Janus to discern their experiences with the southwestern kingdom hadn't been good.

"That miserably shithole?" Arngrim grunted. "Ain't got much except for some bugs down there."

Janus had many questions after that statement.

"A new einherjar?" the assassin asked.

Janus was intrigued. He'd only been on the receiving end of being chosen. He had not yet witnessed it from the outside.

"Correct," Lenneth answered. "Some of you may remember him. He was that one who calmed the mob outside the mayor's office on our first visit to that city. He was also leading that band of refugees through the mountains when the Wasp Giants awakened."

"Oh, yeah, your pretty boy," Arngrim dully replied. Then he shot Lenneth an wicked look, and added, "He's that guy you were making eyes at both times."

"Preposterous," Lenneth scoffed, turning up her nose.

While Arngrim laughed, Jelanda sighed.

"So much for our day off," Jelanda grumbled.

"Do not complain," Lenneth scolded.

Jelanda squeaked and quickly corrected herself, "Oh! Of course, it's no problem."

"Glad to hear it," Lenneth flatly answered.

Then the goddess turned to Llewelyn once more.

"Now, I must ask you excuse us. 'Twas good to good you again so soon, Llewelyn," Lenneth said with a slight bow.

"Oh, of course!" Llewelyn answered, bowing low. "Far be it for me to keep you. I should be heading out for some evening practice, anyway. Gotta stay crisp!"

"Thank you," Lenneth answered.

Then Llewelyn finished off his horn of mead and departed, waving.

"Bless," he said. "Try not to let Arngrim get you into too much trouble."

"As though we could do anything to prevent it," Belenus answered with a weary playfulness.

"Eh," Arngrim waved off the chuckles that got from the others.

Lenneth clapped her hands twice to get their attention.

"Everyone. Grab your gear," she ordered. "We go to Midgard as soon as you are ready."

"Yes, Lady Valkyrie, they answered.

In truth, none of the einherjar were particularly keen on watching another person die. Not even Janus, for all his curiosity on the matter. Still, they followed. Their goddess had called them to duty.


"I'm heading inside. You sure you won't come, Lucien?" Claire asked.

"Nah. Someone needs to stand watch. Those wanted posters have my nervous," Lucien shook his head.

Claire almost giggled. "Oh, come on, Lucien, they barely looked anything like us. They somehow got your nose wrong on all of them."

She had to admit one poster in particular which had practically given Lucien a long witch's nose was amusing, despite their circumstances. She looked down a set of stone steps leading onto a lower street in the slums. Across from the base of the steps was the entrance of Headmistress Dolce's orphanage. The iron gate was locked and the old, worn stone wall around the premises stood like a weary guardian. They could faintly hear the cheers of children coming from within, and small figure darted past the gate. The thoughts of those children's futures stabbed into Claire's chest, as though someone had speared her. It was late after, and that meant they would have to begin gathering near the graveyard before too long to wait for Bedelia and her granddaughters.

She took a step down the stairwell.

"Lucien," she looked back at him. "I'll be back shortly. Stay inconspicuous."

"I will," he nodded. "Just be quick in telling Elder Dolce what she and the orphanage staff need to do before nightfall."

"Don't you worry about that," Claire answered. "We'll have the kids ready to move."

She gave Lucien a firm a look, before adding, "We aren't entering The Pit before that's done. Got it."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Lucien assured her, holding up his hands in surrender. "I want everyone to get out. This isn't just about Barren to me, despite what you might think."

"I know," Claire softened.

She leaned in and kissed Lucien on the cheek. "I just needed to hear you say it."

Lucien returned the gesture, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Alright, now get it in there. Kids aren't exactly easy to wrangle."

"You're telling me," Claire flatly retorted.

She then hummed at him before trotting down the steps toward the orphanage on the lower street. Claire fished the gate key out of one of the pouches from her belt as she went. Her strides were cautious, as none of the stairs had been uniformly made. Some were tall and narrow while others were low and wide. Each one required the passerby to watch where their feet landed else, they take a tumble and go off to meet either Valkyrie or Queen Hel.

Lucien watched her go. He also glanced around at the dilapidated buildings where various disreputable types hung out. Two men exchanged a bag of coins which jingled. Then the second man gave the first a bag that did not jingle before they parted company. Some other men and a few women rolled dice, yelling and cackling as they bet on their meager earthly wealth in the vein hopes of increasing it by even a little. A trio of drunkards were already sozzled and singing off-key in front of a ruined church. There were even a few mere unfortunates mixed in with the deplorables. A boy in his preteens fed chickens in a small confinement, an older woman quickly crossed the street carrying a pair of clay jars before being let into a small hut by what Lucien assumed was her husband.

He quickly returned to watching Claire's back. She had just reached the bottom steps when a man leaning against the side of a nearby building stood and began approaching her. Lucien's hand went to his sword as the shabby man in a tattered long red coat wobbled up to Claire with a lecherous grin, showing up a mouth with but a few, yellowed and grayed teeth. Claire attempted to go around him, but he blocked her with his body and leaned in. Claire did not back down from him, standing firm with fists at her sides.

Lucien undid the fastener holding his sword in its sheath and pushed it loose an inch with his thumb. He was about ready to charge down those stairs to scare the man off when Claire shoved the man away. He stumbled and fell back against the wall he had been leaning against. The shabby drunkard looked angry as he jumped away from the wall again to get back in Claire's face, but she brushed past him. He whispered something horrible at the redhead, and Claire responded by turning without stopping to flick her thumb off her teeth at him.

The shabby drunk growled. His hand went to his belt, pushing back one of the flaps of his coat to reveal a knife. Lucien took a loud step down, causing the man in tattered clothes to look up towards him. The drunkard froze when he spotted Lucien, armed with a sword that was already partially drawn from its resting place. Lucien, with eyes full of killing intent, nodded his head to the side sharply three times, signaling the man to shove off while he still could. The tattered man gulped and slunk away, never taking his eyes off the armed young man at the top of the stairs, until he was around the corner and out of sight.

When he was gone, Lucien let out a big whoosh of air before sitting down on the steps. He looked towards Claire, who stood halfway inside the orphanage's main gate. She mouthed a 'thank you' in an exaggerated manner to make sure Lucien saw it where that distance. Lucien did the same, cupping his hands around his mouth and widely mouthing 'you're welcome'. Claire giggled and then shut and locked the gate behind her.

Lucien was now alone on those backstreets, with only his thoughts to give him company as he sat watch. He set himself on autopilot, letting his instincts do the work as he kept watch while waiting for Claire.

"The last time I was put on a tight timetable to flee, I couldn't save the person that meant the most to me back then," the troubled thought weighed heavily on his spirit. "Oh, Platina…"

Without thinking, Lucien reached into his pocket and pulled out the lock of silver hair. He cupped his hands around it, and after another cursory look around, he stared at it mournfully. Surely things had to turn out differently this time, right? Everything had been planned down to the smallest details by several people, who were older and wiser than himself.

"It's gonna be night soon, and we'll have our window to act," he said aloud. "Night… it was also night back then. And from the feel of those winds from the North, this'll be a chilly one, too."

Lucien's stomach nearly overturned as he thought about it. He only hoped it wasn't a forewarning of things to come.

"Don't worry about it," Lucien told himself, but the thoughts still raged like a chorus of whispers in the bottom of his mind. Try as he did to drown out the sea of self-doubt and anxiety, they found a way to bubble back to the surface, shouting over his own uttered words, "This time will be different."

He told himself that over and over.

"I was just one boy back then," he tried to assure himself. "I didn't really have a plan back then. This time I… we do. We made a plan."

"I just want to forget it all," Platina's words rang out above the noise in his head.

"I… I… didn't think. I was just desperate to save her," Lucien confessed. "I'd packed supplies and gotten Platina out of the village. That was about as far as I had thought ahead. But I was so sure I had done the right thing, but blundering into that damned field..."

His head fell forward, pressing his chin into his collar. His body quivered he tried to stop the sobs from coming out before they began.

"She was only there because of me," he muttered. "It's all my fault. Just like this time. They were all only in those damned caves when the wasps awoke because I was so stubborn about using them again as an escape route, and now Barren, just like Platina… he's…"

Lucien stopped himself.

"He's not lost yet," he said, to convince himself. "We haven't lost him yet. We'll rescue him, and then escape with everyone else. The blasted Sheriff and the Cavalry Breakers can't stop us. I'll… I'll save them this time…"

"You can't save anyone," a thought came, unbidden.

"Maybe not by myself…" Lucien admitted. "But this time, I've got backup."

"You're only endangering them on a suicide mission. Just give up and run away," his thoughts said.

"Never," Lucien hardened himself against the doubt. "Not if there's even a small chance I can save Barren from my own stupidity. He's only in The Pit because of me."

"As if you can undo your mistakes," the other part of his mind pointed out.

"Maybe not. But I need for the people I care about to be alright," Lucien insisted.

"How can they even be safe when they're waging war against those who command?"

Lucien didn't have a retort for that one. His shoulders slouched and he rested his head in one of his hands as he sat there, feeling more and more depressed and anxious. So lost in his worries was Lucien he did not notice a trio of orphans returning to the orphanage coming right up behind him.

"Hey, that's Mister Lucien," the younger of the two boys.

"Quiet!" the girl among them shushed him. "You wanna get Mister Lucien caught."

The younger man clapped his hands over his mouth and looked around. The older boy had stopped and was quietly observing the swordsman sit there at the top of the steps. Lucien nervously shifted his weight and even rocked himself briefly before muttering something to himself almost deliriously.

"What's wrong with him?" the older boy asked.

"Nothing's wrong?" the girl huffed with her hands to her hips. "He's probably just waiting for Headmistress Dolce or Miss Claire."

"Yeah, but… he looks… scared…" the older boy said.

"Mister Lucien? Scared?" the girl nearly laughed. "I'll have you know Mister Lucien's not afraid of anything!"

"If only that were true…"

The three children gasped when Lucien spoke up, realizing they had been heard. He slowly turned and looked at them, offering a weak smile and wave.

"You kids should already have gone home," he said. "Headmistress Dolce has something very important to tell you once you get there."

"Okay!" the younger boy said. He poked the girl with his elbow. "Come on, Ali!"

"Wha.. hey, wait!" Ali cried as she was dragged forward and then down the steps, protesting all the way.

That left Lucien and the older boy.

"You should get going," Lucien said. "It's going to be a busy night for everyone."

The boy hesitated, seeing the underlying sorrow in Lucien's eyes. He wetted his lips, working up the nerve to ask the swordsman why he was hurting.

"Did something happen?" the boy asked.

"Hmm?" Lucien seemed to realize the boy had seen right through him. He shook it off. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking."

The boy wasn't buying it.

"It's about Mister Barren and the Lord Mayor's speech, isn't it?" he asked.

Welp, there was no point in denying it if the boy had figured that much out.

"Yeah," Lucien admitted. "You do need to get back to the orphanage, though. Hurry along now."

The boy still hesitated.

"Go on. Girls and younger brothers need older boys like you, after all," Lucien ordered, but not unkindly.

"Yes, sir," the boy respectfully answered with a shallow bow.

Then he walked past, but not before giving Lucien another concerned look. As soon as the boy's back was turned, Lucien buried his face in one of his gloved hands.

"Now you've done it, Lucien," he berated himself. "Even the kids are worrying about me now. What's wrong with me lately?"


"It'll be sundown soon. I best be off in a bit," Maximillian said.

He sat by the window, whittling down a little piece of wood he'd picked up from the front yard, fashioning it with his knife. He didn't know what it was going to be yet, but he kept at it, slicing off strips of wood with the little blade.

Maximillian turned towards Betty, who sat at the table of the kitchen of their little shack. She stared back almost guiltily as she took a drink of bitter herbal tea. Father and daughter had both stopped by their little abode to take a small break before the events of the evening started. Both knowing it was the last time either of them would be able to sit and relax in there, and perhaps the last time they'd see each other. Maximillian smiled at Betty, who couldn't muster one back. She just looked away, feeling terrible for roping him into Lucien's scheme. She didn't get up, because there was nowhere to go in their shack. In truth, the 'kitchen' was just the back corner of the main room of their abode. It had a table and was where the fireplace was located, but it was hardly a proper place of cooking. Another corner of the interior contained their beds, a chest of drawers for both their clothes. In another corner, a large wooden wash basin their both used.

"What's wrong, little one?" Maximillian.

"It should be me going. I'm the one who volunteered," Betty answered.

"I thought you might say that," her father sighed. "No way I am lettin' you anywhere near that place. I ain't losin' you again."

Betty slammed her wooden mug against the table's top angrily.

"Well, I can't lose you again, either!" she angrily objected.

Maximillian gave his half-finished creation a haunted smile.

"If I pulled out to leave with ye, ye'd just go to rescue Barren," he said. "I can't have that."

Betty felt conflicted when he said that. On one hand, Lucien was right. They owed Barren. He'd been the one who helped reunite them. If not for him, things would be much worse for her. She still remembered well the day Sir Reginald Lundberg, former owner of the Lundberg Bondservant Company, had arrived with the lord's men to take the farm. Betty's family owed money, and Sir Reginald came to collect no matter how he got it. Their land was seized and the three of them were locked up in iron wagons and carted off to different slave markets.

Maximillian had been bought by a plantation owner to tend his fields. He ended up strangling his master to death with his manacles to get the key and escape. After fleeing through the woods and sneaking into Gerebellum, Maximillian fell in with the Silver Saviors. Lucien himself had recruited him. Betty and her mother had ended up in Gerebellum before being sold to different masters. Betty herself been bought and sold around Gerebellum a few times. Her mother… they never found her. Betty remembered her last master very well. She'd never forget him.

"Scabby dog!" her last master had shouted. "Ye dare refuse a client like that! I bought ye for one purpose, and that be for you to service me patrons! Now, ye'll get back in there and show 'im a good time for his oth! I don't much care if ye do it on yer knees or yer back!"

"No! I don't wanna!" Betty had cried, wrapping herself in her own arms tightly as she cowered on the floor.

At the time, Betty was a girl of barely sixteen. The last several hours of her life since being purchased by the owner of this degenerate establishment had been a prolonged scene of terror, knowing what was to happen. The man snarled and hauled her to her feet, grabbing at the front of her dress.

"No!" she'd screamed.

She grabbed his bigger paw of a hand in her dainty little fingers as he began to tear off her top. She hadn't yet been taught how to fight as she would be once with The Silver Saviors. All she could do was futilely struggle against an opponent twice her size and weight.

"Ye'll do as I say! Now take it off! It only hurts at first! Just as natural as birthin'," he said.

Rip! He tossed her blouse and bodice aside. In a fevered panic, Betty tried pulling away from him, covering herself by crossing her arms, but he had hold of her good. She screamed as he reached for her skirt. Then the room was suddenly blasted by a violent cold wind that roared through. Betty gasped as the chilly breath of the winter outside blew against them. It nipped at her bared flesh and made her skirt flutter. The candlelight flickered before going out.

"What in Hel's name?" her master let her go in shock and turned around.

Betty fell back to the floor as he looked for the source of the intrusion. Betty and her owner spotted the two intruders at the same time. A pair of men stood just inside a nearby window they had entered through. She couldn't see either of them clearly with the candles out, but the shape of the man standing closer to them was very similar to her somehow.

"Ye son of a bitch!" the familiar man shouted in a gruff voice she knew right away.

"P-Papa?" Betty tearfully cried.

"Papa?" her master's gaze snapped towards her.

By looking at her, the owner of the establishment had just made the fatal error of taking his eyes off an opponent. His other mistake was neglecting to scream for help right away. Maximillian took advantage of the opening and flew across the room with more silence and speed than Betty had ever seen him possess prior. The owner turned to him again too late. Maximillian's hand shot out, grabbing him around the mouth in an iron, painful grip, silencing the owner. With his other hand, Maximillian drove a long knife into his opponent. It punctured into the owner just under his ribcage. The blade then slid neatly under the ribs and into his black heart. The owner screamed behind Maximillian's palm before his spasmed out, quickly falling dead beside his latest purchase.

Betty stared at the body with horrified fascination. Movement in the upper corner of her eyes made her look up at the face of her father. He was panting slightly, looking relieved he'd made it just in time. Then he took off his jacket and got down on his knees, wrapping it around his girl's shoulders. Emotion welled up in Betty and she nearly caused the jacket to slide back off her again as she jumped into her father's embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around him as she began to sob into chest.

"Hey, hey, it's alright now, Cub," Maximillian held her close, using the pet name of her childhood.

He held her close, humming the tune his wife used to sing to their little girl every night between assurances all would be well now.

"Max," the other man whispered as loudly as he dared. "We've got to get movin'. They'll miss 'im soon, and we's got to be gone by then."

"Please, Barren," Maximillian could hardly keep his voice below a whisper. "She needs a moment."

"We ain't got one," Barren urged. "If they catch us…"

"I understand," Maximillian said.

He pushed a still teary Betty away, and held her by the shoulders. "Come on, Cub. We gotta move."

She sniffled and nodded silently.

"I…" Betty in the present began.

She wanted to say she and her father should both forget the whole thing, but she just couldn't make herself say those words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Maximillian muttered, with weary understanding. "Well, if anyone's gonna try the impossible tonight. It'll be me. You just get yerself outta Gerebellum with the rest. Let yer ol' Papa handle this one. Just like I said at the meeting."

Betty stood and grabbed the chair she had been sitting in. She carried it over to the window and set it down next to his. She sat back down, leaning into Maximillian's side. He leaned into her, halting his whittling for a moment.

"Can you… sing for me, Papa?" Betty almost meekly asked.

"Eh?" Maximillian inquired.

"Momma's old lullaby? Can you sing it for me. Just more one more time?" she repeated.

Maximillian was taken aback and then smiled warmly. His throaty voice was off-key, but Betty didn't care. He began to sing, the slow, melancholic lullaby.

"The wolf is howling in the forest of the night,

He wants to, but cannot sleep.

The hunger tears his wolven stomach,

And it's cold in his burrow.

Wolf, wolf, don't you come here,

I will never let you take my child.

The wolf is howling in the forest of the night,

Howling out of hunger and moaning.

But I will give him a pig tail,

Which suits a wolven stomach.

Wolf wolf, don't you come here,

I will never let you take me child."

Betty snuggled closer into his side, feeling almost calm and safe as she listened to her father sing, perhaps for the last time.


Bedelia opened one of the window shutters just a crack, taking a second-long look out into the darkening city. She quickly shut it again, having been able to scope out the exterior with her trained eyes. She locked the window shutters and made a small affirming noise with her throat.

"A'ight. Time to be off, then," Bedelia said under her breath. She exited the foyer into the central hallway of the small house. She stopped at the door of the bedroom Gloria and Ingrid shared, rapping on it.

"Coming!" Gloria called form the other side.

The door opened, revealing both her granddaughters. They were still in casual clothes, with their armor, gear, and weapons bundled up into burlap sacks for concealment. Bedelia looked over both bags and reached out, lightly shaking Ingrid's. When she didn't hear the clink of any metal, she nodded approvingly. The girls had followed her instructions, bundling up each piece individually to avoid making noise.

"Good work," she told the pink-haired girl.

"Thanks?" Ingrid wasn't sure how to take that.

Bedelia looked them both over.

"It begins," she told them. "I want ye both t' wait at Old Dalan's stall 'til just after sundown. Then come to the Mammem graveyard. I'll already be there."

"Where will you be while we wait?" Gloria asked.

"I'll be at the graveyard," Bedelia answered. "Someone's got to scout it out and be certain the path is still open before we be gatherin'."

"Then, we should go with you," Ingrid pumped a fist in the air. "If anyone crosses us, I'll…"

"There'll be no fightin'!" Bedelia stopped her.

"But…" Ingrid whined.

"Nay!" Bedelia held up a finger. "No arguin' this time, girl. This old crone goes alone. Too many people draws attention. This is somethin' I best do alone."

"But the Sheriff's men could be about," Gloria pointed out.

"Ay, likely," Bedelia conceded. "All the more reason for me to go alone. One sad old woman visitin' the graves of the dearly departed'll be no reason for them to fret."

Then Bedelia took a step back from their bedroom, looking towards the front door.

"Ye remember yer business 'til just after nightfall?" Bedelia asked.

"Old Dalan's stall," Gloria answered.

Ingrid looked about to argue again, but Gloria held out one of her arms, blocking her. Pinkette gave her cousin a faint glare, but Gloria shook her head. With a look, she told Ingrid it was best to obey.

Bedelia grunted slightly.

"Then I'll be off. Wait five minutes, then head out, yerselves," she instructed.

"Yes, Granny," Gloria answered.

Ingrid blew air out of the side of her mouth in frustration.

"…Yeah," she added reluctantly.

Bedelia then turned away, beginning to leave. She'd taken about a step before finding herself unable to take another step. It wasn't that her old body was giving out anymore than it was usually was, but she just had to stop and look at her granddaughters again. The old woman stood about a pace past her granddaughters' bedroom collecting herself.

"Girls…" Bedelia said in almost a whisper.

"Yes, Granny?" Ingrid answered.

Bedelia looked back at the two girls, and in that moment, the normally relentlessly stern matriarch was gone. Gloria and Ingrid almost didn't recognize the old woman in the hallway. The harsh exterior cracked and the old grandmother who had spent the last sixteen years raising a pair of half-blood granddaughters was laid bare for them to see. And she was scared.

"Watch each other's backs now," Bedelia said in a grandmotherly tone they were both utterly unused to. "And be careful. The Sheriff and the Lord Mayor be closin' in even now. There's no shame in runnin' if you get scared."

Gloria and Ingrid had no frame of reference for this side of Bedelia or even what they themselves were feeling. They were even less prepared for what she said next.

"I love ye both so much," Bedelia said, with moistening eyes. She pulled out of a handkerchief and dabbed at them. "If worse comes t' worse, take care of each other."

Then the old woman quickly strode towards the front door, not looking back again. She had taken her first step out before Ingrid recovered and dashed after her.

"Granny!" she called.

Bedelia stopped, but still did not face her. Ingrid came to a halt behind her, realizing she had no idea what she wanted to say. After a moment, she settled on,

"Be careful out there, Granny. I love you, too."

Bedelia nodded without facing them again, and then stepped out, closing the door behind her. In that moment, both half-dwarven girls began to have the first pangs of doubt about their mission.


Lenneth and her einherjar stood on a high peak of the Turgen Mountains overlooking Gerebellum from the north. It was sundown, and Lenneth could feel the time drawing nearer. She stood a bit higher up than her team, on a small relatively level patch on the slant mountainside while the einherjar were lined up in a narrow ledge to her side. From right to left, Arngrim, Jelanda, Lawfer, Janus, Belenus, and Nanami looked down at the dreary city. The shrine girl stood closest to their goddess. They could faintly smell the smoke of chimneys and workhouse smokestacks on the northward breeze.

"Mmrph," Lenneth held her forearm to her nose and mouth as if to fend off an unpleasant. "How unpleasant."

"The smoke, Lady Valkyrie?" Nanami looked up to ask.

"Nay," the Valkyrie answered.

That got her einherjars' attention. Belenus nearly asked, but then he remembered their previous visit into the city.

"Ah, yes, I remember," the nobleman muttered. "'Tis not a mundane scent which repels you, is it, Lady Valkyrie?"

"Correct," Lenneth answered.

Janus looked at him curiously.

"If not that, then what?" he asked.

"Valkyrie says the city's full of rage and hate," Arngrim spoke up. "Not surprising, considerin' how the rich treat the poor here."

Indeed, Janus was not surprised.

"Ay," Lenneth explained. "On our last visit, we came to Gerebellum before realizing that the source of evil I had detected lied within these very mountains."

She clicked one her heels against the stone mountainside she stood on to punctuate her point.

"The negative human emotions and sentiments were so strong, it nearly drowned out awakening evil of the Wasp Giants," she finished.

"And the source of this evil is the city's own citizens?" Janus asked.

Lenneth nodded, and motioned around at the city vaguely.

"Gerebellum's ruling class has become a hive of corruption and wickedness," the goddess answered. "The evil growing here is worse now. The people are ready to savage each other. It feels as though the entire city may just burn in a moment's notice."

Jelanda looked up to their goddess with worried eyes. Then she stared off, wondering how her own home, Artolia, felt by comparison, and nearly asked, but stopped herself. She hadn't the heart to actually ask.

"I suppose it can't feel much different," she decided. "Father's rule is weak and selfish."

"Even a dousing crystal I brought became confused," Nanami spoke up.

Janus looked at the shrine girl inquiringly.

"It's a charged crystal that hangs from a string. It's supposed to swing in the direction of what its master seeks," Nanami explained. "But it couldn't pinpoint the exact source of evil we were looking for. The dark aura hanging over Gerebellum overwhelmed my crystal, and it became confused."

"Mm," Janus nodded.

Lawfer's eyes scanned the city, trying to take it in even from that distance.

"Is it close to time for us to disembark into the fray, Milady?" he asked.

Lenneth stood stoically a moment in silence.

"Soon," she answered plainly. "Soon. The troubled youth, Lucien, stands at the threshold of his fate. I also feel a great many fates will be decided this night. For good or ill."

Her heart felt like lead in her breast as she spoke.

"Soon," she repeated, almost sadly.