Firelight

by OCQueen96

After losing her family, her planet, and her entire race of people in a war against Tamaran, Damiana is forced to survive alone on Planet Earth. After losing everything, she doesn't need anyone and she trusts nobody. However, when a dangerous criminal threatens the entire hero world, Damiana gets involved with the Titans East. Will her views hold true as she fights alongside them?

47. Part IV: Unraveled: Chapter Forty-Seven

A/N: Another chapter, another eight months gone by! Let's see... I got a better job, got married to my fiancé, we went on our honeymoon, and now we're saving up for a house. I feel like so much always happens between these chapters! Thank you guys for your patience and thank you for your encouragement for me to continue writing. I read all of your reviews and I am so thankful that I have people who enjoy my writing!

Here is another chapter for my super patient and faithful readers. Enjoy and happy 2023! :)

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Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans, but Dabnod and all of its original characters are of my own creation.

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Part IV: Unraveled: Chapter Forty-Seven

Previously…

Roy and Damiana have made the endless journey through Provinces Eight, Seven and Six in attempt to repair Black Shadow's rift machine. Their time left on Dabnod is less than two months, and the two Titans are starting to feel the pressure. For the longest time, they were beginning to think that repairing Black Shadow's device and escaping Dabnod was hopeless. It was cracked and without a fuel source. However, nothing seemed as hopeless as warning the Dabnodians of their planet's coming destruction. Nobody in the entire eighth province joined them aside from a single family.

Thankfully, their luck changed in Province Seven. Due to a vast mining industry heavily depended upon by the Capital City, materials perfect for minor repair work on the rift machine were located. In addition, a reliable blacksmith was found who could make the repairs. Blacksmith Ret was the gentleman's name, and he commented on the device's odd mechanics and intricate system. Damiana and Roy explained their peculiar situation. Blacksmith Ret was a rare gem who did not scoff in disbelief at their tale.

Before departing from the Province Seven town of Jyn, Blacksmith Ret proclaimed his belief in Damiana's and Roy's story as well as in Prophet Veng's divination. Rather than following them, however, he promised to construct escape pods. With Province Seven's resources and everyone's combined technological knowledge, it is something that they should be more than capable of doing. The family that joined the Fire Lily Tribe in Province Eight stayed behind in Province Seven to assist Blacksmith Ret.

Province Six held even greater promise for the Titans. A seaside fishing town had access to something not beheld by their eyes in months - a library. Hours of research led to two discoveries. Firstly, a method for constructing an effective fuel chamber. Secondly, components for crafting a powerful fuel source. Not only were the crack in the side and the hinge on the top repaired, but they'd also managed to use plitkin metal and pulk paint to craft a working fuel chamber. Pulk paint is specialized so that it nullifies massive amounts of energy when used in large portions and stabilizes massive amounts of energy in small portions. Pulk paint is also easily accessible, which made it easy for them to find.

To their dismay, constructing the source for the fuel will be far more difficult. A power supply strong enough to tear open a rift cannot be found naturally on Dabnod. It can only be crafted. A ser stone is one component that is needed - a yellow stone that produces a dull, electric, charge. A rare form of red clay, known on Dabnod as vengat, is also required. This transforms the dull electric charge into a form of pure energy. The only way for a ser stone and vengat to work together, however, is if they are combined on a molecular level. This transformation can only happen with the use of a zirgnant tool - a tool so rare that it can only be found in the Capital City, and even then, it may still be difficult to locate.

Thankfully, Roy and Damiana were able to purchase a ser stone at a trading post in Province Six. Two weeks later, after being kicked out of every border town in Province Six due to the townspeople's dislike of Prophet Veng, they boarded a ship near the boarder of Province Five. Province Five was destroyed by Queen Guayusa and traveling through it is taboo to the people of Dabnod. Of course, this did not stop Prophet Veng and the Fire Lily Tribe from paying their respects to the tragedy that happened there.

After a miserable two-week journey through Province Six and a nausea-inducing week-long boat ride for Damiana, they are finally arriving in Province Four. Roy and Damiana are holding out hope that they will find vengat, as Province Four is widely known for its black market and illegal activities. With only five weeks of existence left for planet Dabnod, the two Titans are beginning to panic…

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"At last! Praise the Fates for dry land! Captain Swindon, can you lower the gangplank any faster? I need off, and I need off now!"

"Damiana, hold still! You cannot jump overboard! Stay patient. We'll be able to get off in a minute."

"I have been sick for the past week, Roy! If it doesn't make me want to puke, jumping overboard is completely worth it!"

"God damnit, Dami! Stop fighting me!"

Never has the girl felt greater loathing for Roy's superior upper body strength than she feels right now. Her arms are held tightly to her sides, and when she tries to escape by jumping up and down, the archer lifts her. Damiana kicks and squirms, but it isn't any use. Roy's grip is inescapable.

"Will you put me down already?! The worst that will happen is I will get wet!"

"No, the worst that could happen is you diving in headfirst and breaking your neck! Do you expect me to go back to Earth without Titan Firelight? Not happening!"

They sound very strange to the Steadfast Largnart's other passengers. Damiana speaks in Dabnodian while Roy's responses are in English. Only Caen and Tenna can somewhat understand what the human is saying. Of course, with their limited English skills, deciphering is still very much a riddle.

"I won't break my neck. I promise not to dive. I'll do a cannonball! Just let me off this flotation device of torture! When we get back to Earth, I will go anywhere with you, but if you try taking me on an ocean liner cruise, I will burn you to ashes!"

Captain Swindon watches the scene while tweaking the end of his crimson mustache. He motions to his crew to lower the gangplank leading to the dock. All the while, he makes his way to the Noble Lady and the human in five long strides. Upon reaching them, the captain clears his throat.

"I have never had a Noblewoman or an alien on my boat. Especially not at the same time. Because you are such rare passengers, I will allow you the courtesy of being the first to exit. You're free to go. Thank you for choosing the Steadfast Largnart."

Damiana shakes Captain Swindon's hand with vigor. Rose red tresses are suddenly the brightest gold that they have been in months. "Really? Praise the Fates! Thank you, Captain! You're the best! I'd give your ferry business five stars on Google if I could!"

The girl dashes across the main deck, down the gangplank, and onto the dock faster than Kid Flash. Captain Swindon stares befuddled. Why did the girl shake his hand, he wonders? Does she have a nervous disorder? Also, what in the world is Google, and how is it capable of giving him stars? What a strange Noblewoman, he thinks. A few seconds later, Damiana leaves his mind entirely. There is a crowd of four-hundred loitering on the Sclarthon Harbor's dock seeking passage to the outer provinces. If more than two-thirds of them have gems, he will soon be wealthier than the Queen! The last Damiana and Roy see of Captain Swindon, he is rubbing his hands together greedily while chuckling.

To Damiana's absolute joy, not only does she finally get to leave the Steadfast Largnart, but she gets to enter a city almost as luminescent as the Capital. Sclarthon, she immediately comes to realize, is the first truly civilized place on Dabnod that she has been to these past two-and-a-half months. From the dock, tall buildings with three or more floors are seen. These are nothing in comparison to Earth's skyscrapers, but here on Dabnod they are the epitome of modern society. The rose stone bricks crafting the buildings are pinker than they are gray, meaning that the structures here are of a significantly higher quality than the far-out provinces.

Upon ascending the hill separating the dock from the city, it is seen that the roads here are paved. Smooth bricks the color of honey ornament every street, appearing like glossy trails of honeycomb. Uikin with polished saddles pull covered wagons, shopkeepers sweep the walkways in front of their stores, and delivery boys weave around people and vehicles while toting crates of product. From the crest of this hill, Sclarthon looks like a gleaming utopia. This truly is not the case, of course. Not after witnessing what remains of Province Five. Nonetheless, it is nice to pretend, if only for a short while.

Without warning, thunderous flapping is heard. The only noise more cacophonous are ear piercing caws. Diving through the rosy clouds is a brilliant yellow lightning phoenix, its belly speckled by white polka dots. Sun-tinted feathers glow brilliantly against the peach and blue-violet sky. Beside it is a brown grass phoenix with a green-painted tummy. Young Knights, likely Squires training hard to rank up to Knight, ride happily in their saddles. The boys laugh loudly and freely. Damiana's hearts ache. Training season happened shortly before Dabnod was destroyed. It was the six-week season where Knights-in-training worked hard to prove themselves to their Knight Masters to rank up. This was the only thing that Saeran and Adriel talked about. Had Dabnod survived another week or two, Saeran and Adriel may have reached the top rank of Royal Knight.

The boys riding the phoenixes, probably practicing different flight maneuvers to show their Knight Master, will never get the chance to rank up. Their training is pointless. As happy as the girl is to finally be off that nauseating boat, the sight of the young Squires makes the true purpose for that awful ship ride all the clearer. Vengat clay. They need vengat clay to draw out the electric charge of the ser stone. As much as she has missed home, there is no longer any use dwelling on the past. There are five weeks left in total. Dabnod is practically gone already. She needs to repair the rift machine so that she can return to her new home with Roy.

Images of everything she has seen and echoes of the dreadful tales she has heard bombard Damiana's mind. Queen Guayusa, a little girl being trained under King Brulein, poisoned every member of the Lightning Phoenix Clan so that there would be no competition for the crown. Or at least this is what the former Palace maid had told them during the frost. It might not be true, but the strong feeling in her gut informs Damiana that the elderly maid hadn't been lying. After all, Linden and Aika's story about the destruction of Province Five was real. Sadly, their story was as real as the cinders at her feet only a short week ago.

If the poisoning of the Lightning Phoenix Clan was real, and if the destruction of the fifth province was real, then the other secrets that Whisper Valley unraveled for her during the frost were also true. That she was being intentionally isolated from the rest of society by Queen Guayusa, the elders of the Fire Phoenix Clan, and by the Royal Council. Not only that, but they were working together to make her think that Dabnod was the most peaceful planet in the galaxy and that Queen Guayusa was a compassionate, angelic, ruler.

At first this didn't make sense, but when they revealed that Damiana of the Fire Phoenix Clan was being trained as the future Queen of Dabnod, the pieces fit together perfectly. The very thought of it is still almost too astonishing for her to bear. Damiana was not a child lucky enough to be beloved by a kind, gracious, ruler. She was the woman's apprentice. Had her birthplace not been destroyed, she would have been Queen Damiana of Planet Dabnod. Ironically, eleven-year-old Damiana didn't want to be a Queen. She wanted to be a Palace Scribe. Twelve-year-old Damiana would have mourned bitterly had she been given the news on her twelfth birthday.

The only version of herself capable of mourning more is her sixteen-year-old self. Nothing about the happy-go-lucky childhood she remembers was real. Admittedly, the girl has done everything in her power to stop from thinking about it too deeply, although nothing helps. In the end, the only thing to be thankful for is that nothing could possibly be worse than what she has already learned. What could possibly be worse than being an apprentice to an evil Queen who burns down provinces and poisons her family? Nothing.

"Hey, I talked to Prophet Veng. The Fire Lily Tribe isn't staying at one inn this time. He said that the same inn is not likely to house all of us. I guess there's a stigma against Province Ten Tribes in this province. So, we're roughing it on our own. Except for Tenna and Caen - they've agreed to stay at our inn."

Roy's presence is soothing. Why it is soothing is a phenomenon indescribable. All she can say is that Roy takes the heartbreak of the lie that was her happy childhood, along with the trepidation and grief over the evil, corrupt, place that was her home planet, and makes this horrific situation not so terrible. Damiana breathes in deeply through her nose and gives a long, slow, exhale.

"That's fine. Separating from the Fire Lily Tribe could help now that we've reached the modern provinces. I'm a Noblewoman who looks exactly like 'Queen Guayusa's apprentice' and I'm married to a human. We're conspicuous enough as it is. Traveling with tribals from the wilderness who wear animal skins would just make our lives harder."

"Woah. Since when are you this harsh?"

"I'm not being harsh. Don't you remember telling me that I need to stop thinking best-case scenario and start thinking worse-case scenario? You told me that the morning we went to the ruins of Province Five. I hate to say it, but you're right. I need to stop letting the nostalgia of being on my birth planet control me, or I could get both of us killed."

"Oh! Okay. I'm happy that you're listening to what I have to say. Does this mean that you want to separate from the Fire Lily Tribe and Prophet Veng permanently?"

"No. Not permanently. Just until we find the vengat clay. It will be easier to find if we remain inconspicuous. Vengat clay is not as readily available as ser stones, and definitely not as abundant as the materials we used to craft the fuel chamber. If we're going to find vengat clay, we're going to have to try twice as hard and get ahold of it by any means necessary."

As surprised as the archer may look, he also smirks. "Alright. You're the Dabnodian, so I'll take your word for it. We won't do anything else until finding the vengat."

The girl grabs the archer's hand, tugging him down the hill toward the busy streets of Sclarthon. "Come on. We'll find an inn first."

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Truth be told, Damiana despises this shimmering, stunning, city only a short hour after arriving. Finding an inn to stay at must be the most difficult task on planet Dabnod. The three inns that are initially attempted turn them down – the first two because they are fully booked (or so they claim), and the third bluntly states that they aren't sure how housing a human will impact business. Inn number four is not any more welcoming than the previous establishments.

"I'm sorry. You folks are….eh…. How do I say it...too colorful… for our place of business."

"Colorful? What does that mean?"

The elderly gentleman manning the front desk rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Well… You are a Dabnodian Noblewoman married to a human. And you're from the Fire Phoenix Clan, no less! For a woman of your fine breeding to be married to an alien is outright treachery. The outer provinces might house you without a problem so long as you're married. They're very archaic. The outer provinces are where a pair like you belongs. You can't come waltzing into the City of Sclarthon with a human on your arm and assume that people won't find you a traitor."

Roy can already be heard groaning in aggravation. Tenna and Caen meander a few feet behind them. The mountaineer's braid is morphing from mint green to a deep purple, almost like wine. Meanwhile, Caen can be heard sobbing. Clearly this situation is exhausting for the entire group. For the briefest instant, the Noble Lady is about to groan as loudly as Roy. That, however, is when an idea strikes. She does not bother to think it through more carefully for fear that she may change her mind. In an act of unadulterated impulse, a palm is slammed hard against the pure, white, surface of the wooden desktop. The old man jolts as if zapped by lightning.

"Married? Sweet Fates! We're not married! This is my human slave that Daddy bought for me at the market on the Xintari Moons! How can we be married? He is beneath me!" Roy gapes in shock, clearly wanting to speak. Damiana slaps him forcefully. "Do you dare speak to me, slave?! You live only to serve me!"

"What did I just do? Sweet Fates, he's going to make me regret this idea!" Thankfully, this horrified thought doesn't impact the girl's hair. It stays a stable shade of midnight blue. The girl merely reminds herself to channel the rage felt toward the innkeeper to keep the ruse going. More fortunate is that the archer drops to his knees and bows.

"I am so sorry, my Lady! My humblest apologies for speaking without permission."

"You are forgiven, for you are a lowly human who is not aware of his actions."

The mischievous glint in his emerald eyes causes midnight blue to become a significantly less stable color. "You should take me to a room and spank me immediately."

Damiana feels the fuchsia demanding to overtake the blue. This is when Tenna approaches the counter.

"Please take mercy on us, sir innkeeper. My son and I are the grateful and indebted servants to our master, Lady Fire Phoenix. She has had to pretend to be married to this lowly human for months during her vacation to Province Seven. She was even forced to adorn his clan symbol so that those in the outer provinces would not disrespect her. With the atrocities she has experienced, please allow our master to stay here. She is tired from weeks of traveling and needs to rest."

Old man innkeeper grunts, disgruntled to say the least. "Alright, fine. I'll rent out rooms to Lady Fire Phoenix and her attendants. One room for Lady Fire Phoenix and another for her servants and the human slave."

"Actually, you will have to give me and my Lady a room to share. I was bought on the Xintari Moons for pleasure purposes, and I live to serve."

Fuchsia bright enough to burn out someone's corneas overtakes her tresses. The innkeeper roughly throws two sets of keys at them. Never has a man been more disgusted than the one towering behind this desk.

"That is more information than I needed to know. A Noble Lady with a pleasure slave. Never have I heard of anything cruder! I would like to know which Nobleman your father is so I can give him a piece of my mind! Dabnod was once an example of grace and refinement to the rest of the galaxy. Look at us now! Sweet Fates, I think I feel sick!"

Damiana is running down the nearest corridor with her room key in hand before the innkeeper can say anything more. Roy tosses a sufficient number of gems on the front counter and dashes after her. When the archer states that he is ready for his spanking, Damiana kicks him roughly in the shin.

"Hey, take it easy! If you think that you can pretend that I'm your human slave without me making any jokes whatsoever, then you don't know me at all."

"Pleasure slave? Seriously Speedy?"

"Oh, I see how it is. I have been demoted from 'Roy' to 'Titan Speedy'. You have no sense of humor whatsoever. Now spank me, Master!"

Despite her mortification, Damiana smirks. "Count yourself lucky that I'm not the dominant type. You wouldn't want me to spank you. Remember, I am a fire user."

The latter part of their conversation is entirely in English. It is times like these when Damiana remembers precisely how well the child's English lessons have been going.

"Why would you want Damiana to spank you? Zaesa said that you were only pretending to be her slave! Also, what does 'dominant' mean, and what does Damiana being a fire user have to do with spanking?"

Realizing his error, Roy coughs uncomfortably. "Sorry, I forgot. Great English, kiddo! You're becoming more fluent every day!"

Tenna shakes her head at them. "Whatever it is the two of you are discussing, I do not believe that it is appropriate to ask. Caen and I are going to get settled into our room now." With that said, the lone members of the Jawirth Clan vanish behind a wooden door.

"Come on, slave. We should find our room, too," the girl states, voice oozing sarcasm.

"Once we're settled, I will pleasure you as you see fit, my beautiful Master."

"Alright, that's enough. We can stop now."

"Why? I'm having fun."

As frustrating as this ruse may be, Damiana is happy that she decided to take the route of deceit with the innkeeper. This is by far the nicest room that they have stayed at. A king-sized bed is piled high with soft blankets and plush pillows. They have been so thoroughly washed that Damiana can smell the flowery scent of soap while setting her bag atop the duvet. There is also a set of ornamented double doors leading out to a balcony. A glass table with matching cushioned chairs are outside for them to lounge on. Inside there is a desk neatly stacked with paper, ink, and quill pens. It is shoved against the wall opposite the bed. To the bed's right is a full-length mirror which stands beside a wardrobe.

On the left-hand side of the bedroom is an entrance leading to an adjoining room, which Roy immediately wanders toward. "Hey, Dami, get in here! We have a whole bathroom! It has a bathtub and a flushing toilet! I didn't know that this planet had flushing toilets!"

Certainly enough, the bathroom is as amazing as Roy says. A gargantuan bathtub crafted from polished rose stones sits in the corner, a water pump situated directly over it so that it may be easily filled. For any non-fire users who stay here, there is a compartment for firewood beneath the bathtub for heating purposes. To Damiana's utter astonishment, there truly is a flushing toilet! It is nothing like the toilets on Earth. It is square, not circular, and there is a rope for tugging rather than a handle or button. But it is, nonetheless, a flushing toilet. The fact that she can go a few days without doing her business in a chamber pot or in the woods makes the girl want to cry tears of joy. Not to mention, there is a freestanding water pump, a washbasin, and a pitcher in case one does not want to take a full bath.

Roy's frustrating teasing is forgotten and is replaced by overwhelming bliss. Damiana embraces the archer tightly. "Thank you for playing along with my lie! I'm so happy that we have this room!"

"Hey, if we get a flushing toilet, a balcony, and a king-sized bed, I will be your slave any time you ask."

Damiana exits the bathroom, figuring that Roy wants to put the flushing toilet to use. The instant she is alone, the weight of the constant traveling hits her like a ton of bricks. There are not many opportunities for her to bathe, brush her hair, and there definitely are not easily accessible dental hygiene products. Every week or so, she got to take a bath at an inn while Roy left the room to go play with Caen. Sometimes while traveling between towns, they would stumble upon tree leaves that act as toothpaste when chewed. Of course, this was far rarer than she would have liked. Damiana tried keeping her hair clean and tidy, but without shampoo and with constantly sleeping in the dirt, this was next to impossible.

As for clothing, Damiana has been switching between the same two dresses for two months. She washes them in rivers and in washtubs whenever there is a chance, but without access to laundry soap in the wilderness or at inns, her clothing is starting to smell. The same can be said for Roy's clothes. At first it was bothersome, but at some point, they must have gotten used to the lack of hygiene. Of course, now that they have the most modern bathroom that has been seen since Earth, they are more than likely going to fight over it. That is clear already.

Deciding that she may as well begin her hygiene with fixing her hair, the girl unfurls the tight braid keeping her thick tresses in place. Removing a brush from her bag, she untangles her mass of curls while staring into the full-length mirror. While fighting hard against snarls, it occurs to Damiana that this is the first time that she has seen her reflection since her wedding night in Province Eight. For someone who hasn't had a decent bath since their stay at the inn in Province Six, Damiana decides that she looks okay. The girl looks better than during her homeless days, at any rate. The real surprise is the size of her body.

She thought for sure that her weight would have changed somewhat. Walking for twelve or more hours each day, in addition to the nauseating boat ride where she could barely eat, she assumed that the weight gained during the frost was sure to vanish. Yet, it is still there. Her size B breasts are notably larger than the size A chest she possessed on Earth. Her thighs are fleshier than she is accustomed to, and her rear is rounder than she thought possible. Even through the thick fabric of the sapphire blue dress, Damiana thinks that her form has become quite womanly. What size were her clothes on Earth? Her denim jeans were a size four, and her hooded sweatshirts and tank tops were extra-small. Those clothes will never fit now! She must be a size six. Possibly an eight. As for her hooded sweatshirts, those are probably a small if not a medium.

Why Earth girls are so fixated on being extra-small is beyond Damiana. Personally, she doesn't mind being larger. Before, she could see her bones poking through her skin. Those girls Roy was flirting with weren't wrong in their judgment of "Leila's" appearance. She looked anorexic. Even if it will require buying new clothes, it is good that her anorexic form is gone.

Two months without looking in a mirror has also impacted Roy. The archer exits the bathroom, seeming to be going toward the balcony, when he catches a glimpse of himself. "Sweet Jesus! Is that me?! How did my hair get so long?! And is that a mustache? I look like a hobo!"

"I don't think hobo is the most accurate description. If we get you a flower headband and some bell bottom jeans, you could look like a hippy. Yay Woodstock!"

"Do we have any gems that we can spare? I might go look for a barber shop. Maybe I'll buy a razor, too. I had no idea I looked so awful! I also didn't know that I could grow a mustache."

"In your defense, it's not a big mustache. Just lip fuzz." The girl is not lying. What he calls a mustache is barely there. As for his hair, it has grown quite long. Not nearly as long as Adriel's or Saeran's, although it is very bushy. Its length passes his earlobes. "Also, you will never find a single barber shop on the planet. Trust me. Nobody will volunteer to cut your hair ever. You're not likely to find a razor either, but if you want to, you can go to the mercantile to look."

"I think I will. I was going to take a bath, but that can wait. I need a razor like crazy! I might also get a new set of clothes. If you want, you can come too. Another dress might do you some good."

Damiana takes another glance at herself. Now that her hair is brushed, the horrifying sight of dirt and grease stares back at her. Her skin, while it could look worse, is very oily. When inhaling deeply, all the girl smells is sweat. This is partially from her own body, and partially from the grimy fabric of the dress.

"I would rather stay here and clean up. While I'm at it, I might also wash the dresses that I already have. I can go out and buy another dress once I don't look disgusting."

"Suit yourself. I'm looking for a razor and other clothes. I'm also going to see if I can find someone to cut my hair. What you're saying is impossible. There has to be someone in this massive city who will give me a haircut if I pay them."

"Trust me. There's not. If I was clean, I still wouldn't go with you. Watching the entire planet try to murder you is going to be way too painful."

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"Humans are a sinful, wicked, species! I will make the Fates punish you!"

Shelves topple. Wares scatter across the floorboards. A woman chases Roy around one of Sclarthon's many shops while wielding an iron frying pan. Three onlookers, who had been here completing their daily shopping, are cheering the woman on. Two in the crowd are fire users, because tresses are lit aflame with fury. The last one must be an air user, because torrents of air spiral around the fellow.

"Get him!"

"Purge the human!"

Roy leaps over two shelves in a mad dash for the exit. A flurry of flames is aimed at his head, which thankfully misses due to a massive five-foot jump. The iron frying pan nearly nails him on the back of the head, but a swift duck keeps it from making contact. When the archer slides out the shop's front door, enraged shouting causes the glass of the windows to shudder.

"Stay out, human! May the Fates inflict eternal pain on your soul!"

All that the archer can do for the longest time is gawk open-mouthed. For the love of God! He can't figure out what awful sin he committed if his life depends on it! He entered the shop, bought a pair of pants and a tunic that looked approximately the right size, and bought a dress that might be able to fit Damiana. The dress purchased might be a little too big, but Tenna will be able to take it in with a needle and thread. The mountaineer has been doing a lot of sewing lately. Roy approached the counter with a small basket of bintlits which the cashier happily accepted in exchange for the garments.

They'd been having a pleasant conversation about where he was from, Roy weaving the tale that he was from Province Nine rather than openly confessing himself to be human. The cashier lady asked where in Province Nine he was from, stating that he had a strange accent. "There is a village in the northernmost part of the region called Orange Creek. The people there make the best larkack quill armor on Dabnod!" Thankfully, the cashier bought the tale without a hint of doubt. Roy has found that his new, long, hair has made it more difficult for strangers to identify him as human. Only those familiar with an Earth accent can place him immediately. Anyone who is around for longer than twenty minutes notices that his ginger locks don't change color, so that gives him away during extended interactions. For the most part, however, brief interactions have grown easier.

This question, be that as it may, caused the friendly conversation with the cashier to turn south. He'd finished tucking the wares into a burlap bag, all the while thanking the woman. At the end of the thanks, Roy added, "By the way, are there any good places around here that do haircuts? I could use a trim. Maybe a shave, too."

The woman's long, silky, tresses lit aflame as if a match were dropped on her head. "Young man, how dare you walk into my place of business and insult me so horribly? How dare you insult the Fates so horribly?! They gave you your hair, and you have no right to dismember it!"

"Dismember it? It's shaggy and it's in my face! I need it cut!"

"You've dared to insult me once, and now you've insulted me a second time! The people of Orange Creek have no respect for the Fates!"

A man who'd been sorting through glass jars of vegetables on a nearby shelf, the lone air user, declared loudly, "Hey, he ain't no Dabnodian! He's one of them aliens! A human, I think. Listen to the way he talks. There's no way he's from Dabnod!"

Another shopper added, "I've been watching him. That hair hasn't changed a single time in fifteen minutes. Not a single strand is different. I think he is a human!"

Roy sighed. "Well, I guess the jig is up. Since I'm human and not Dabnodian, can I get that haircut? Clearly your species has something against it, but I'm not one of you. I should be exempt from whatever cultural guideline you have preventing people from cutting their hair."

"Exempt? How dare you come to our planet and speak so boldly?! You are on Dabnod, foul human. No person on Dabnod, be they Dabnodian or alien, should ever participate in such a dastardly deed! You have insulted me, my customers, and my entire culture! Get out now!"

"Can you at least explain what I did? How is cutting my hair so evil?"

Thus, the fight ensued. Mulling over the events in detail does not make what just happened any clearer. All Roy did was ask if there is a place that does haircuts. How that resulted in getting flames shot at him is a mystery. Normally it would be tempting to go to another shop and ask if anyone there knows a person who does haircuts. After nearly being roasted to death, however, a haircut suddenly doesn't seem important. Damiana did say that nobody would oblige to that request. Now the only thing the archer wants is to find the girl so that this morning's events may be explained.

Roy jogs up the cobblestone street to the inn before anyone who'd been shopping can see where he's going. More than anything, he would like to sprint through the lobby and up the hallway to his purchased room to hide in there for the remainder of the day. Perhaps Damiana can go look for the vengat clay while he stays hidden. They won't have any luck achieving their goal if people in Sclarthon are trying to murder him. The instant the human enters the lobby, however, is when Caen stops him. Ear-to-ear grinning makes escaping the child impossible.

"Yay! You're back! I was waiting for you! I practiced more words. Damiana helped me on the boat this morning, and I think I got it right. 'I am thir-s-ty. C-an I h-ave s-o-me w-a-t-er?'. That last word is still hard for me. 'W-a-t-er'. But I think I'm starting to say it right."

The archer nods. "Yes, that's right. You used first-person speech, and you used 'can' instead of something like 'will' or 'do'. You're improving. Also, you pronounced 'water' without any mistakes whatsoever. Good job."

Caen's grin widens. That is, until observing the older boy more closely. Then the child frowns. "What's the matter? Did someone try to take your gems or trades?"

"No. Not exactly."

"Then why are you breathing so heavy? Someone must have been chasing you."

"Yes, but nobody tried to steal from me. I asked if there is a place that can do haircuts, and every person in the shop tried to kill me!"

The boy's seafoam ponytail gains a gray streak. "Oh. You shouldn't ask people that. That's really bad. Cutting your hair is worse than getting caught stealing. It might even be worse than murder!"

"What? That's crazy! Me wanting my hair cut can't possibly be that bad!"

Caen gapes in a way that makes Roy feel truly alien. He is about to request an explanation. That is when Tenna emerges from the hallway.

"I am sorry, my son, but we have to go. Any English questions can wait until this evening."

"Coming, Zaesa."

They bid Roy farewell, leaving him to sprint to his room. The first thing that comes to attention upon entering is how utterly empty the enclosure is. Not a sound is heard. The second is the sight of their old, travel-worn, clothes. Dresses are laid out to dry on balcony chairs. As for leggings, pants, and a tunic, these are strung from an outside clothesline. A soft breeze floats in through the open doors. Empty room. Clean clothes. No fire-using Noble Lady. Perhaps Damiana primped herself as quickly as possible in a rush to go find vengat. Perfect. They have a head start on finding the next battery component for the rift machine, plus the girl isn't here to say, "I told you so" about the haircut. Sleeping aboard the Steadfast Largnat was not pleasant. Maybe the archer will use Damiana's absence to nap.

Happy at the idea of solitude, Roy strips himself of his tunic, boots, pants, and Flying Arrow Clan belt. Before napping, a bath and a change of clothes wouldn't hurt. Butt naked, the archer saunters toward the bathroom in a state of bliss. Bliss vanishes the moment he enters. Asleep in the bathtub, as nude as the day she was born, is Damiana. For the longest time, the girl's lovely form is observed due to shock as much as enticement. A flat, smooth, stomach. Soft, rounded, breasts with pale pink nipples that are astonishingly large. Although, they are not abnormally so. The first thing that comes to the nude teen boy's attention is that her nipples are hard, causing his face to redden. Nothing else is visible due to the water obscuring her form, but nothing else needs to be. Roy's attention is fully captured.

What it is that shakes him from the trance is uncertain. All the archer is certain of is that, once the trance is broken, this situation is truly horrifying. He shouts as if it is a burglar in their bathtub.

"Oh my God!"

"Sweet Fates!"

Damiana wakes with a jolt. Rose red curls turn neon green as she lurches to her feet. The boy wishes that he could avert his gaze, but the lower portion of her body shocks him so badly that he freezes. It's not just the hair on her head that changes color…. Until this very second, Roy had no clue that girls grew hair in places besides their head… Not to mention, her hips and thighs are not as bony as was anticipated. Damiana is quite lovely, actually.

The archer is so busy staring that Damiana's gawking goes unnoticed. Lime irises traveled from the archer's face to his chest, to below-the-belt in less than two seconds. The would-be Queen's eyes haven't moved away from the lower region. They are glued in horror as much as they are in fascination. As much reading as she has done, clearly it could not have prepared her for the sight of a real life male.

"Umm….. I'm sorry…. I didn't hear anyone when I got back, so I figured nobody was here. I should've checked the bathroom first…"

"Uh… I'm sorry too. I was taking a bath, and I guess I fell asleep. Warm water is very soothing… Especially after a week of no sleep..." Damiana continues gawking while making this inquiry. If Roy wasn't staring at her chest, perhaps he would feel uncomfortable. "So…why are you naked?"

"Same as you. I want to take a bath."

The girl finally pulls her eyes away long enough to notice where the archer is looking. All of her hair instantly morphs to magenta. "Naxdath! Are you checking me out? Quit it!" She crosses her arms over her chest in panic.

"Me? What about you?! You've been staring at my crotch for almost a whole minute!" Roy grabs the nearest object to cover himself, which just so happens to be the empty wash basin.

"It was an accident! I've never seen a naked man before! I didn't know that everything looked so…big…and tube-like…" Damiana droops her head defeatedly. "Alright, fine. I guess we're both staring." She hops out of the tub and shoves past Roy to the main room. "Did you buy us new clothes? I tried washing my other dresses, but I don't think the smell is ever coming out. I need a different one."

"Yes. You have a dress in that bag on the bed. You're welcome."

Neither one of them moves immediately. Roy remains in the doorway to the bathroom while Damiana loiters next to the bed. As strange and invasive as it may feel, they continue looking. The girl's magenta curls are only matched by Roy's crimson cheeks.

"For the record, this would be a good time for one of the maids to knock on the door. This would help make that pleasure slave from the Xinatri Moons lie look more real."

Damiana rolls her eyes. Thankfully, she also smirks. "Go take your bath and get dressed. Normally this situation would upset me, but considering how we've been living as a married couple for ages now, this was bound to happen eventually. Just don't torture yourself by gawking. You will never get to touch me."

This confession flows from the archer's lips before he can stop it, but he doesn't mind. Based on the way her hair shifts from magenta to dazzling gold, it seems that the would-be Queen doesn't mind either. "I'm not going to touch you unless you want me to. You know that. But just so you're aware, you have a beautiful body."

"Oh! Thank you! But you don't have to say that. This doesn't make being nude in the same room any less awkward."

"I'm not trying to make it less awkward. Dabnod could explode and we could die. If we die, you should die knowing that a man thinks you're beautiful." Arms are no longer crossed. Damiana observes herself in the mirror with a gentle smile. "Anyway, I'm taking a bath. If you're tired, go ahead and nap. I might nap too once I'm clean. I may not have made the best first impression on the people of Sclarthon, so staying inside for today might be best."

---

"I told you that no one would cut your hair. You should have listened to me!"

"How was I supposed to know that hair is sacred, blessed by the Fates, and that the Fates will sentence me to eternal damnation if it is cut?!"

"Have you noticed that you have yet to meet a Dabnodian with short hair? That isn't a coincidence."

"You could have told me."

"I was waiting for you to ask!"

Damiana wishes that she didn't have to say, 'I told you so', but it is her teammate's own fault for being so stubborn. Why long hair is so bothersome is a mystery. Can't he wait until they get back to Earth to cut it? They have bigger problems than shaggy hair! One of those problems being that they must tiptoe to the opposite side of Sclarthon to search for vengat instead of scouring the markets close by. If someone spots the human who brutally insulted the Fates, it will lead to trouble. Roy sighs disheartened as they weave through alleyways to keep out of sight.

"Alright, fine. Now I'm asking. What is with the hair-cutting anxiety experienced by the entire Dabnodian populace, and how did that lead to people trying to kill me?"

"Hair is vital to Dabnodians. Cutting hair to us would be like you cutting off your arm. It wouldn't be detrimental, but it would greatly impact how we function. Excess heart energy from our second heart is stored in our hair follicles. It's what makes our hair change color. It also helps us maintain control over our elemental abilities. If our hair gets cut, it is much more difficult for us to use our element. If I decided to get a pixie cut, for example, my fire could either be reduced to a small puff of heat or it could be an untamable inferno that destroys everything. What would happen is difficult to say, but without long hair, the results wouldn't be good."

"Oh! That makes a lot of sense. I was wondering why Adriel, Saeran, and every guy on this planet always has a ponytail. But what does that have to do with them hating me?"

"Since our hair is a way for us to control our Fate-given gifts, our hair is sacred. Cutting off our hair is seen as an insult to the Fates. It is telling the Fates that we don't want the gift they've given us. Elemental abilities are precious. Very few species possess elemental abilities to the extent that Dabnodians do. Refusing our gift is sacrilegious. It's like wearing a t-shirt that says 'Black Sabbath' inside of a Catholic Church, or like reading the Bible inside of a Mosque. You don't cut your hair on Dabnod."

The redhead shouts so loudly that his voice echoes. "You couldn't have told me that before I went outside looking for a haircut?!"

"I did! You didn't believe me!"

"Then you should have tried harder!"

The word "harder" causes Damiana's cheeks to redden. It is an instant reminder as to why they left the room instead of hiding inside. After what she saw, taking a nap beside her teammate in their shared bed is a no go. Accidentally feeling a certain bodily organ during their wedding night, and again during their most recent make out session, is one thing. Seeing the organ in its full, bare, glory is entirely different. It's much bigger and much hairier than she thought. Damiana is not quite sure what she had been expecting, but a large rod with two bushy sacks was not it.

Whatever her previous imaginings have been, the girl thought for sure it wouldn't look so painful. If things were ever to go too far between them, it doesn't look like it would be a pleasant experience. Nevertheless, the adolescent girl still finds herself curious. Billions, if not trillions, of humanoid species all over the universe have reproduced. Going…there…might not be so bad. Nobody would exist to populate any of the planets in this universe if it was. Would it hurt a lot? Only a little? Would doing it feel good, painful, or somehow both? It is irritating that seeing Roy's body has made her more curious rather than less curious.

Of course, Damiana manages to shove every one of those thoughts aside, if only for the time being. What is truly bothersome is being surrounded by innumerable shops and having not a clue where to start. Four glassware and pottery shops. Three blacksmiths. Two shops selling odds and ends, their signs stating reading 'Helpful and Miscellaneous Items'. There are also three libraries and a schoolhouse as massive an Earth high school. Not a one-room schoolhouse, but a school with two floors. Inns, restaurants, shops selling clothing, a School of the Performing Arts, a School of Modern-Day Technology, a cobbler, and a Temple of the Fates are also spotted, though these are largely unnoticed by the girl. All she cares about are places that may or may not be selling vengat.

The Titans have spent nearly two hours wandering alleyways only to be lost without any idea where to look. Thankfully, when the would-be Queen makes a proposal, Roy doesn't argue. "Do you want to try one of the odds and ends shops first? I can't think of anywhere better to start."

"Sure. I don't see why not."

With this said, the duo emerges from the alley in which they are hiding. Carriages, merchants, playing children, and messengers are the obstacles they weave around while crossing the street paved by amber stones. When they finally reach the shop, it looks every bit as shifty as Damiana imagined. The wooden sign is missing two letters. Additionally, it hangs by only one string. As for the windows, they are covered by thick coats of grime. Whoever would dare enter this shop, they must be desperate for helpful and miscellaneous items. Ironic, considering the utter desperation of herself and Roy.

"Vengat clay. We're going to find vengat clay so that our ser stone isn't useless. That's why we're here, and that's what we're focusing on! You got that, Dami?!" The girl shouts at herself internally, doing everything she can to not glimpse at Roy in temptation as he leads the way into the store.

When the dusty door is shoved open, suddenly the struggles of earlier today are forgotten. The sight before them is so distinct from anything else that has been witnessed in the past three months. Somehow the shop is as chaotic as it is incredible. Shelves. Walls, from floor to ceiling, are lined by shelves. Simple wares like buttons and books are shoved on the same shelves as wires, jars of unlabeled powders, and machine parts. Upon reading the spines, it is discovered that these books are not as simple as was first assumed. "The Diary of a Misunderstood Apothecary" and "Every Technique a Member of the Palace Interrogation Unit Must Know" are two of the books laying amongst the clutter.

The redhead picks up a vial of thick, green, liquid with frown. "Actually, I change my mind. Let's try somewhere else. We're never going to find what we're looking for if we spend the entire day sorting through junk."

Damiana flips through the book about interrogation techniques. The page she lands on is highly descriptive about a technique called "the breathing funnel" utilized by Palace air users. "I agree. There's a pottery place next door. Maybe they have what we're looking for."

Timing couldn't be more precise for the shopkeeper. Stepping out from the backmost room is the most elderly man that Damiana has ever laid eyes on. He makes Prophet Veng appear young and spry! As the gentleman approaches, it is with a shaky walk while leaning over a cane. He is bald with a beard that reaches his waist. So aged is the man that beard does not shine neon. What should be brilliant, sunset, orange is instead the color of pale peach. Nevertheless, the man is still on his feet.

"Hold your uikin, young'uns! Less than thirty seconds, and you're already eager to dash out of my store! It's a pity that young people don't have more patience. If it is a specific item that is required, I can tell you if I have it. No need to go digging through my wares."

The teens exchange doubtful glances. This shop possessing vengat clay is unlikely, but it is worth a try.

"Good afternoon, sir. We're sorry. We didn't mean to insult you. We're just passing through town with the hope of finding a rare item."

The elderly man replies with a raspy scoff. "Aren't you always? Tourists have been passing through here all the time these past couple of weeks looking for things that are nearly impossible to find. They ask about wires, and gizmos, and gadgets that are far beyond my knowledge. I just put it on the shelf, I tell them! If you're asking about a specific wire or gadget like everyone else, I can't tell you specifics. You'll just have to look at my products and see if it looks like what you need."

"No. No wires. We don't need anything like that. We're trying to find vengat clay. It is thick, red, and grainy. I don't know if you have it, or if you know someone who does?"

"Oh. Vengat clay. I know exactly what you're talking about! I've had it in my possession before, but hardly. Each time I get some, Royal Knights march in here and buy up every crumb of it. Those rare times when it's not a Royal Knight, it's always someone from the Capital City just like you, Lady Fire Phoenix."

Damiana hugs herself tightly, small fingers obscuring the image carved into her Fire Phoenix armband. "With the way you're talking, I'm guessing it's gone?"

"Gone from my shop? Yes. Gone from every store and every home in Sclarthon? No. I have a close friend who owns a tavern just down the street. He has a lump of vengat clay that size of your head! I've tried buying it from him, but it's useless. The fellow is determined to keep it off store shelves. Thinks that he can make more money selling it to a buyer off the street than to me. The nerve of him!"

So much joy fills her veins that it takes all her strength to stop from jumping up and down. "That's great! Thank you! If you don't mind sharing, what is the name of that tavern?"

---

The name of that tavern is Fushalko's Haven. Damiana hates it the instant she walks inside. The smell of booze hits her in the face, which is surprising. Alcoholic beverages are banned in the Capital City, Province Two, and in Province Three. The would-be Queen thought for sure that alcohol would be illegal here as well. Then again, it was difficult for Queen Guayusa to do exactly as she wished. Sometimes the Royal Council disagreed, so banning alcohol in Province Four was probably one of those disagreements.

One thing that Damiana knows for certain is illegal, however, is what is going on at the table five feet to her right. A homely woman, whose hair is greasy and who also happens to be missing one of her front teeth, is draped over a balding, middle-aged, man. He must have had one too many, because he is not telling her to go away. That, or the man is just sad. Damiana is beginning to assume the latter.

"My wife is gone! She's gone forever! She got on that boat that takes people to Province Six. The rumors about what is happening in Province Seven enticed her so much that she would dare leave her husband! Can you believe it?!"

The woman strokes his hair. "It's so awful that she left. You're such a handsome man. I'm surprised that anyone would leave you."

"I know. Me too!"

"I know that your wife left, but I'm here. I can warm up your bed.""

When the man roughly shoves the lady, Damiana gasps. "Get away, wench! You aren't my wife!" He sobs bitterly. "I want my wife!"

The sight warms the girl's hearts. Even in his wife's absence, the man is still faithful. It is tempting to go over to the man to suggest that he pack his things and board the Steadfast Largnart when it makes its next trip back. He could probably find his wife in Province Seven, considering she is most likely headed to the town of Jyn. Roy, however, takes Damiana's hand and drags her past the tables toward the bar. Eying him in perplexity results in a firm glower from the archer.

"Don't get distracted. Stay close to me, my precious wife."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" This is when Damiana takes notice. Half the men in the room leer at her lustfully. She grips Roy's hand tighter. "Okay, never mind. I get it. Thank you, husband!"

When they approach the bar, the bartender seems significantly less creepy than the tavern's patrons. A young man, probably ten years older than herself at most, is washing mugs and stacking them on a rack. Upon spotting the duo, he gives a hearty laugh.

"Am I seeing this? A Noblewoman is standing inside my tavern. Sweet Fates! Now I can say that I've seen everything!"

Damiana sighs. "I'm not here for a drink. I wish I was here to tell you that prostitution is illegal, and that alcohol should be illegal, but I'm not here for that reason either."

"Alright. No drinks and no arrests. Then tell me, Lady Fire Phoenix. Why are you here?"

"My husband and I are here to ask about a tip that we got from the gentleman who runs the shop up the street." Whispering, she continues, "Rumor has it that you are in possession of vengat. Is that the truth?"

The bartender's sigh is twice as frustrated as Damiana's. "The Fate-damned old man couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he? I just got a hold of it a few days ago, and already I have strangers at my bar badgering me for it! Before I admit anything, you should know that vengat clay is completely useless without a ser stone. For me to consider selling, you would need to confirm possession of a ser stone. From there I can base the quantity of vengat on the size of the stone. Then I would decide on a fair price. So, tell me, is there a ser stone in your possession, or are you buying vengat so that the Capital City has an abundance of the stuff just like they have an abundance of everything else?"

"We do have a ser stone, if you must know," the girl hisses. "Now will you consider selling?"

"Only if you let me see it. I know how you Capital pawns operate. You hoard every resource that our fair planet has to offer just because the Death Queen makes you. Nobody there thinks for themselves. Everyone is either too brainwashed to notice the horrors of Queen Guayusa's reign, or everyone is too terrified to speak out against it. If you're trying to lie to obtain my vengat, it won't work. I'm only selling it to somebody who needs it – not to greedy Capital City Nobility."

Delicate fingers comb through rose red curls in frustration. Personally, she finds it impressive that they haven't changed color yet. "Sir, my reasons for wanting to purchase your vengat has no connection to Queen Guayusa or to the Capital City. The vengat is for personal use only."

"Why should I believe that?"

Thankfully, Roy speaks up. "Because she's married to me? That should be plenty of proof."

The bartender's jaw unhinges. What had been sapphire blue hair shifts to jade green. "Wait a second. Is that…an Earth accent?! Are you…human? Goodness gracious! A Noble Lady married to a human? This is one for the record book!"

"Yes. I am very much a human, and we are very much married. I'm sure the Royal Council would never allow a 'Capital pawn' to marry a human, would they? If you let us purchase some of your vengat, it won't fall into Capital City hands. That's a promise."

The mug he is holding clatters to the stone floor. He doesn't bother picking it up. The bartender merely shakes his head in disbelief. "A Noble Lady, and an alien to whom she is married, are here to purchase my vengat clay. Unbelievable." He laughs, the sound almost bordering on psychotic. "Come on. I can take you to my office. We can talk more privately there."

For a tavern as seedy as this one, the office is not so shoddy. An impressive desk, a neatly organized bookcase, framed pictures, and cushy chairs almost make this tavern seem legal. Damiana scoffs internally. More unbelievable than Dabnodian Nobility married to a human is a Noble Lady making a purchase from someone who dabbles in illegal activities. If he is willing to support prostitution, who knows what else this guy is doing?!

A sturdy wooden box is removed from a locked cabinet and placed on the desk between them. "Show me the ser stone first. Then the vengat."

With careful precision, Damiana removes a bag from her shoulder and unburies the stone. It is wrapped securely in a long piece of thick, blue, cloth. Upon unraveling it, the bartender gapes. The Noblewoman cannot stop from smirking with satisfaction. "See? No lie. We have a ser stone." It is returned to the bag as carefully as it was removed. "Will you sell us the vengat now, or will we have to search elsewhere?"

The bartender strokes his sapphire goatee with intense scrutiny. "Huh. Well, since it seems you two are being completely honest, I suppose I could sell to you."

"Perfect! Thank you, sir! How much do we owe?"

"Let's see… A stone that size will require a fist-sized portion. That is one-sixth of my entire lump of clay…" He opens the box, scoops out a rather large piece, and wraps it in a white cloth. All this is done while making thorough mental calculations. "Vengat has been increasingly hard to find these days with Royal Knights scouring for every last smidgen of it. Two years ago, my price would have been twenty-five gems. Right now, however, vengat clay is scarce. I'm afraid that the price I will have to ask of you is sixty."

Rose red curls change color at last. First to lime, and then to midnight blue. "Sixty gems?! Are you insane?! You're a crazy, no good, thieving, grifter for trying to suck that much money out of us! Nobody carries sixty gems on them! Not one person I've met!"

The bartender shakes his head in irritation. "Sixty gems is the price. Take it or leave it."

Hopeless. Everything suddenly feels hopeless. Twenty-seven gems are what Roy and Damiana have when their funds are merged, and that is after borrowing some from Tenna. Sixty? That is an impossible feat! It occurs to Damiana that stealing the vengat clay is an option. Roy already asked people on the other side of town to cut his hair. How much worse can using her Masters Level techniques to steal from a swindler possibly be? Thankfully, the Fates themselves bring a halt to this line of thinking. It seems the law-breaking tavern owner has some compassion in one of those hearts. He looks from Damiana, to Roy, and back again before groaning loudly in defeat.

"Alright. I'll tell you what. If you don't have sixty gems, it's fine. How many gems do you have in your possession at this very moment?"

"Twenty-seven."

"That number isn't too shabby. I can work with that. How about you hold on to those twenty-seven gems and earn the rest of them through hard work? It's busy season here in Sclarthon. Royal Knights and their squadrons of Knights-in-training are passing through this city in swarms. Normally I'm prepared, but many of my employees packed their bags and left. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe the Royal Knights are scaring them off after the disaster that took place in Province Five. There has been a rumor going around that Province Seven is preparing for doomsday, so maybe people are curious to see what is happening there. Whatever the reason, I'm low on staff."

Damiana's hair turns to bright, orange, flames. Roy leaps ten feet away, as does the bartender. "No! No way am I working in your crappy tavern! I know what the women in your tavern do for work, and I will take no part in it!"

The man appears ready to soil himself. When he responds, his voice squeaking, Damiana's burning tresses start to cool down. "No! I would never dream of suggesting that! At least not anymore… How about this? I may own this tavern, but my wife oversees the restaurant next door. The two of you can work there! Lady Fire Phoenix, you can use your abilities to help cook the food. Human, you can wait on customers and serve the food. My wife's restaurant needs help just as much as my tavern. Any help at all would be appreciated."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is that I might need to pull the human to come over here to help bartend if my tavern gets busier than the restaurant. It's an easy job. All he would have to do is pour mugs of ale, wash dishes, mop, and be charming with the customers. My wife won't mind if I pull him away. I steal her waitstaff all the time if my tavern is understaffed. Also, I wouldn't need you here for long. You should have those sixty gems earned within a week's time. Is it a deal?"

For the longest time, Roy and Damiana merely look at each other. Is this a good idea? It is tricky for either of them to tell. Of course, what choice do they have?

"Alright, fine. As long as the only place I'm working at is the restaurant, and as long as you promise to steal Roy from the restaurant only once or twice, then you have a deal."

"If my family's businesses are getting help, then I promise to follow through on whatever you ask. Can you start today?"

---

It is clear why the tavern owner, Fulshako, is so desperate to find staff for his tavern and for his wife's restaurant. Both Fulshako's Haven and the restaurant, Fushina's House, are packed. Not a single open seat is in sight in either establishment. Fulshako doesn't say much. He shouts vociferously over the chattering customers so that he can be heard from the kitchen.

"Fushina, get out here!"

A pebble flies and strikes the tavern owner in the forehead. His cries of pain are louder than the boisterous laughter of their patrons. "If you tell me to 'get out here' one more time, I will open a crater in the floor to swallow you whole!"

"Don't throw rocks at me, woman! I brought help! If you don't want them, I'll tell them to go seek employment somewhere else!"

At last, the man's wife dashes out to the dining room. Joy gleams in her slanted, cobalt, eyes. "Them? You've brought me two people instead of one? Fates bless you, my darling! I can have one clear tables while the other helps serve! This is perfect!"

"More perfect than you think. This one is a fire user."

Fushina is short. Much shorter than Damiana. This woman must be under five feet tall. The way the restaurant owner gazes up at her reminds Damiana of a child. Her strong voice and stout physique, however, is enough to remind the girl of Fushina's superior age.

"A fire user? You must be joking! By the looks of the golden armband she's wearing, she must be from the Fire Phoenix Clan! A Noble Lady from the Fire Phoenix Clan is helping me in my kitchen? Fulshako, you must be pranking me."

"I wish I was, dear, because this would be the prank of the century. Listen to this. The copper armband she's wearing is a symbol confirming her marriage to a human. A Noblewoman from Queen Guayusa's most favored clan is married to a human!"

The copper armband with the bronze bow and arrow suddenly feels heavier than it did before. Since leaving Whisper Valley, something that has continued to surprise Damiana is that her Flying Arrow Clan armband generally goes ignored. Every ounce of attention is always drawn to the Fire Phoenix Clan armband that she adorns on the same arm beneath Roy's. These must be the first people to acknowledge her Flying Arrow Clan armband in ages!

"One of the Death Queen's pets is married to an alien, huh? Well, wonders never cease. Fulshako, I will use Lady Fire Phoenix as a cook. I would like to keep the human to serve our guests, but if you need help at the tavern, I would be happy to sacrifice a few hours of his time to you. Come grab him whenever you need to."

Damiana sighs internally. She wishes that Fulshako would leave Roy here. That tavern is such a filthy place! With all the illegal activities going on there, it's a surprise that a squadron of Royal Knights hasn't burned the establishment to the ground already! Not to mention those disgusting women who try to entice men to sleep with them in exchange for gems. If they had gems to spare, Roy wouldn't dare! Would he… Damiana would like to have faith in her husband, though it is impossible to assume anything with one-hundred percent certainty…

Thankfully neither the girl's hair nor her eyes shift colors when the realization strikes. Why is she expecting Roy to be faithful?! They are only married for five more weeks! This union was purely one of convenience! Roy is not required to stay faithful to his wife at all! Yet…the idea of the archer taking pleasure in another woman fills both of Damiana's hearts with rage.

It is Fushina that distracts the girl from her uncomfortable inner musings. "This way, Lady Fire Phoenix. We have three entrees and five sides that I must teach you to cook as quickly as possible."

No more time is left for emotions. Learning to cook is difficult and hectic work. The kitchen is hotter than a sauna and loud to boot. Pots and pans clang. Knives clunk as produce is chopped. Echoing clunking is heard as buckets of coal are poured into the cookstoves and the ash trays dumped. Water sizzles as it splashes onto the stovetop from massive kettles of soup. All the while, heard above the clanking and clunking of the busy kitchen is shouting. Most of the shouting is from Fushina, though some of it comes from the two men cooking alongside her.

"A fire user should be able to cook with her fire like it's second nature! What's the matter with you?!"

"You've boiled the trifdit for too long and you've singed the merlod! Do you have no control over your element whatsoever?!"

Apparently, there is a problem that fire users can have that the would-be Queen never knew about – temperature control. This has nothing to do with the size of the flame, surprisingly enough. Temperature control requires extreme precision when balancing the energies used to produce fire. It is easy to make one's fire burn hotter. Hot fire requires no control over the balance of energies whatsoever. Making it burn less hot, however, requires extreme precision. One of the energies must be forced down to a lower level than the rest, resulting in numbness in her hands and fingertips. Only a few hours in and Damiana's entire right hand has lost all feeling, as well as her arm up to the elbow.

"Wow! You don't have any feeling in your arm at all? You're new to temperature control, aren't you? I thought that you haughty Nobles would have such a simple skill mastered by age five!"

The cook who does the most talking is short, pudgy, man appearing in his early fifties. He has been shouting at Damiana all day, and frankly the girl wants nothing more than to walk out. Roy was summoned to the tavern by Fulshako almost immediately following their arrival at the restaurant. Perhaps she wouldn't mind lending a hand to that seedy establishment after all… Even so, Damiana is not one to walk out without standing up for herself. Therefore, the would-be Queen responds to the cook.

"Queen Guayusa and the elders of the Fire Phoenix Clan never mentioned temperature control at all. I didn't know that controlling my fire's temperature was even possible."

For the first time today, the cook seems baffled rather than annoyed. "Really? Then what do they teach you fancy, rich, clans from the Capital City?"

The other cook, a slimmer man in his forties, speaks up. "What do you think they teach Noble fire users? How to kill!"

Damiana's rose red curls shift to lime. The fire whip… Creating walls of fire… Lightning… Fire streams… The Fire Blade… The Fire Flood… The Flaming Coffin… All of her techniques, both basic and Master's Level, are combat techniques. "You're right. By Capital City standards I'm a Master's Level fire user, but I was only taught how to fight." The girl rubs circles into her forehead in an oncoming migraine. "It's strange. I never really thought about it until just now, but all I can do is fight."

Although they've been yelling at her all day, the two cooks give small, empathetic, smiles.

"Well, you left the Capital City for some reason. Why don't we make it count?"

The cooks are both smiling. Damiana smirks back. Perhaps she will stay and learn temperature control after all. Whatever is happening at the tavern, Roy must be fine.

---

"I bet you've never had the pleasure of entertaining a Dabnodian woman before. Trust me, honey. After an hour with me, you will never want to be with a human woman again. So, what do you say? Five gems and I will give you the experience of a lifetime."

Being married really does have its perks. As a single guy, Roy would have to tell the middle-aged, snaggle-toothed, woman with the mole on the end of her long, pointed, nose that he thinks she's appalling. As a married man, all he has to say is that he a faithful husband. Easy. Honestly, even the women that are attractive are not very appealing to the archer. They have painted faces are quite pretty, but they smell strongly of sweat and booze and who knows where they have been?! Based on all the balding, fat, old men that they lead away from the tavern, Roy knows exactly where they've been, and he shivers in disgust.

"How much longer do you need me?" the archer asks Fulshako. He wants to return to the restaurant to be with Dami the way that a deer wants to return to the forest after being trapped in the city.

"Don't ask. I'll tell you when you can go." Before he can protest, a tray full of mugs is shoved into his arms. "Now go serve the table that just walked inside. Knight squadrons from the Capital City are some of my best customers! Make sure their mugs always stay full and make sure that their Knight Master knows that his tab is open until he cuts those Squires off!"

Roy groans and wordlessly saunters toward the table. Much to his surprise, Fulshako is not exaggerating in the slightest. Six tables have come and gone since his arrival, and four of those tables consisted entirely of Knight squadrons. Royal Knights guzzle their ale quickly and guffaw boisterously, all the while talking about the freedoms that exist in the provinces far from the Capital. They talk of the drudgery of war meetings. They complain of walking on eggshells around Her Highness Queen Guayusa and the Royal Council. The speak of how difficult it is to train young Squires to become successful Knights with Queen Guayusa's impossible expectations – she wants these young Knights to learn in a matter of months what can only be learned with years of training. What the Knights talk about the most, of course, is how great it is to be in Province Four.

One man at an earlier table shouted, "I can finally relax!"

Maybe the people in the outer Provinces should give those from the Capital City more credit. Not even Royal Knights and Nobles seem to like it there. When Roy reaches the table, he sees a Knight Master with a long, blue, beard appearing in his early forties. The man looks as enraged as he does exhausted. Then again, wrangling a group of fifteen and sixteen-year-olds experiencing their first taste of freedom sounds like a momentous task that would fatigue anyone.

"Knights, attention!" The boys who had been wrestling each other moments prior are now silently saluting their Knight Master. "We will not be acting like animals while we are here. You are each permitted two mugs to celebrate your accomplishments and then we will go next door for our meal. Understood?"

"Yes, Knight Master Urrvink!"

Roy serves each young combatant a mug, all the while feeling bad for the adult watching over them.

"Can I have both of my mugs now?"

"No!"

When Roy finally gives the squadron's Knight Master his ale, he tries to do so as jovially as possible. "So, what are you celebrating?"

The man smiles, beard turning burnt orange. "Each one of my Squires meets the Royal Council's very strict requirements for ranking up to Knight. When they are tested in six weeks, they will finally earn their breastplates stamped with the Dabnodian Crest and they will join the Royal Knights normal ranks." He takes a long sip of ale. "When I was a lad, my Knight Master took his squadron out for ale. Can't do that since it has been banned in the first three provinces, so we may as well celebrate early."

"How long has alcohol been outlawed?"

"A couple decades. Only since Queen Guayusa's reign. King Brulein never would have dreamed of banning alcohol. He also never would have created a list of banned reading materials or banned conversation topics for the inhabitants of the Capital City, but that was the past. This is now."

Roy opens his mouth to respond, fully intending on saying something to comfort the weary Knight Master. That, however, is when one of his Squires speaks up. The redhead must not have gotten a close enough look at the boy earlier, because suddenly, he feels his blood pressure drop. This… is impossible. This can't possibly be happening!

"Her Highness Queen Guayusa knows what she is doing. She wouldn't go through such lengths to ban those things if they weren't bad for us."

Though he is far younger and lankier than his current self, and his voice not as deep, the person sitting before the archer sipping ale is unmistakable. The short, golden, ponytail brighter than Earth's midday sun. Thin nose, arched brows, and chiseled features. That same annoying, serious, frown that seems eternally etched into the boy's face as though it were carved into a marble statue. Saeran. Roy takes two gigantic steps backward, as if distancing himself from Knight Master Urrvink's squadron will make Damiana's brother less real.

"It drives me nuts how gullible you are, but I suppose that's okay. Being friends with you wouldn't be nearly as fun if you didn't believe everything you're told."

Roy looks at the face the Squire sitting on Saeran's left. The slim face and cherry red eyes practically smack the archer across the face. Adriel.

"And it drives me nuts how stubborn you are. You don't want to believe anything that anyone tells you. You're so paranoid! I don't understand how anyone can live like that."

The two continue bickering, Roy loitering twenty feet away from their table in a trance-like state. This feels…unreal. Saeran and Adriel are here in front of him, but instead of being two older guys who are far more skilled in combat and more mature, he is gazing upon two people the same age as himself. Adriel puts Saeran into a headlock and begins messing up sun-like tresses, unleashing frustrated cries of "Knock it off!". When Adriel finally does stop, the two laugh. Then they go into fits of guffaws while talking about the hijinks that took place during their training mission. Apparently, Adriel got thrown off his phoenix and was only able to cushion his fall by conjuring a mud puddle. The Ground Badger's sunset orange tresses turn pink in embarrassment.

Aside from being significantly younger, practically bordering on childish, there is another difference. It takes Roy a small eternity to determine exactly what it is. Then the identity of this foreign trait strikes him. Carefree. Saeran's cold, icy, frown is suddenly completely gone. His ponytail gleams a neon shade of apple red as the water user grins from ear-to-ear. Adriel is just as jovial, his usual color of sunset orange tresses and cherry red irises returning.

The archer should be thinking about what he should do. He should drop his tray and run next door to warn Damiana. He should try and stall them by talking them into three rounds instead of two. He should do…something! Instead, Roy stands motionless, shocked by the reality that being in the past instead of the present is finally catching up with them. When the archer finally does move, he is already too late.

"I gave you boys too much credit. One mug is all you get. You clearly do not have the ability to handle more than two mugs." Knight Master Urrvink stands from his seat, stretches, and sighs. "Come on. We're going next door to get some dinner and then we're going to bed. Today is the best work I've ever seen out of you boys, but there is still more work to be done tomorrow."

A chorus of groans meets his ears, but nevertheless, the squadron stands and follows Knight Master Urrvink out the door. It is only now that Roy gains the ability to move. He sets the tray down on the empty table and tries running for the exit only to be stopped by Fulshako.

"Where do you think you're going? You must clear this table and then bring another round to table two. I won't be done with you for a long time."

"But I-"

"Not another word! If you want that vengat, then you're staying here until I say you can leave."

---

Knight squadrons are truly the most ravenous creatures on Dabnod. One table has somehow managed to consume five fried gzrifs, two trays of baked merlod, and an entire kettle of boiled trifdit. An order for an additional tray of merlod just came through, but it seems the tray provided to them was the last in the building. The long, pink, bean sprouts are completely gone until tomorrow afternoon's delivery. They are almost out of the thick, sweet tasting, paste known as trifdit as well as this hfji berries used to make it. Thus, this squadron is being cut off. The person relaying this information is none other than Fushina, and the lady appears nothing short of exhausted.

"I have been engaging in verbal warfare with arrogant Capital Knights all day long. I'm tired of these people. I can't do it!" Fushina grabs a gzrif drumstick from the stovetop and bites into it in a way that looks half angry and half starving. Using her free hand, she points to Damiana. "You, you're from the Capital. Go tell table five that they're cut off. If they're unsatisfied, tell them that we can spare one more fried gzrif and that I can get them a round of free ale at the tavern."

"What? Why me?" Damiana, who'd been tending to a mysterious shellfish entre that she forgot the name of, turns away from her frying pan.

"You're a Lady from the Fire Phoenix Clan. I don't know how to communicate with these people, but surely you must know. You Province One people are all cut from the same cloth."

Rose red curls shift to mud-colored brown. "I wouldn't bet on that, but if you honestly think so, I suppose I can go tell them."

Damiana leaves her entre in the capable hands of the cooks. Before the double doors swing shut behind her, the Noble Lady is certain that she hears 'Hey, it looks like Doll Face's temperature control is improving. These shellfish don't look half bad!'. She can't stop a lighthearted smile from creeping across her face. Working in the kitchen hasn't been as bad as she thought it would be when she first entered the restaurant.

Nobody needs to look at the chart hanging on the wall to know which table is table five. The rambunctious hollering of adolescents and the frustrated scolding of an adult can likely be heard from the street. Normally the Noble Lady would smile at the memories that the sight of the squadron gives her. Instead, she rolls her eyes in annoyance. It has been such a long day. The last thing she wants is to argue with a table of eleven hungry men. Nonetheless, Damiana continues onward. First, she is thirty feet away. Then twenty. Then fifteen. Then ten. It is only when Damiana is standing five feet away from the squadron that horror strikes.

She locks eyes with the squadron's Knight Master, prepared to unleash the exact speech given to her by Fushina on this unsuspecting stranger. To the girl's absolute astonishment, this Knight Master is NOT a stranger. Her vision is flooded with the golden eyes and the long, blue, beard of Knight Master Urrvink. Saeran and Adriel's Knight Master!

Knight Master Urrvink must recognize her, because his vibrant blue beard has shifted to a color that reminds Damiana of toxic waste. "Uh….." Is the only sound coming from the grown man's mouth.

The rest of the table looks in Damiana's direction, and their reactions are not any better. There are ten more heads of blinding green hair, each teenage Squire gawking at the Noble Lady as if she were a ghost. However, none of their reactions are more surprised than Saeran's. Damiana locks eyes with her brother from his seat beside Knight Master Urrvink. For a second, she feels tears pricking at the backs of her eyelids. His young, childish, sixteen-year-old face stares back at her. It has an almost innocent appearance – nothing at all like twenty-one-year-old Saeran. Her Saeran always looks somewhat worried, somewhat angry, and always in despair. This Saeran…seconds before he looked at Damiana, he had a big, happy, grin on his face. Damiana can't remember seeing twenty-one-year-old Saeran smile. Not ever! Locking gazes with Adriel isn't any better. His face is the same as Saeran's- innocent and unspoiled by the tragedy that is yet to come. Adriel appears equally surprised and even more baffled.

At long last, Knight Master Urrvink clears his throat. "Uh… I'm sorry! Can we help you, Miss?"

Damiana's curls are lime-streaked soot. Thankfully, she somehow manages to shake herself out of her horrified stupor. After a long while, rose red and pale pink return. "Oh! Yes! Yes, you can! I just came to inform you that we are out of merlod and out of trifdit. If you would like, we can give you another fried gzrif to compensate. The restaurant owner, Fushina, is also willing to give you all a free round of ale at the tavern next door."

Loud groaning and complaining is what had been anticipated. Instead, all the girl is met with is additional staring from the Squires. Adriel and a few other squadron mates lean in close to whisper to Saeran. "She's a dead ringer for your sister…" and "She's wearing a Fire Phoenix armband…" are the only comments that Damiana can hear.

Meanwhile, Knight Master Urrvink replies as calmly as possible. Even so, the man still looks frightened. Damiana knows for a fact that she looks just as scared. For the first time, being five years in the past is truly strange. Instead of feeling like it is the present, it feels like she is standing inside of a famous painting; a relic from the past that is not supposed to be touched. Only, instead of refraining from touching the painting so that this ancient relic isn't spoiled, Damiana dove into it and destroyed it! Damiana hugs herself tightly while Urrvink speaks.

"That is quite alright. My Squires don't need any more food anyway but thank you for the offer of compensation."

"You're welcome…."

With that, Damiana excuses herself and dashes back inside the kitchen.

---

A/N: Fun Fact - My husband ACTUALLY wore a shirt that said "Black Sabbath" into a Catholic Church. The reaction was very similar to Speedy cutting his hair on Dabnod. Just thought I would let you know that this reference came from real life experience haha xD (In his defense, he wore it on accident and somehow I didn't notice...)

I will post the next chapter when I'm able. Thank you for reading! :)

Forever and Always,

~OCQ