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

For the first time, Dart began to appreciate Rose's company. She never seemed to care about anything personal, and she never asked about any of it. He found himself seeking her out more than once and invited her to a couple matches so that she could point out the contestants' flaws. It was a fun activity when her criticism was directed at someone other than him.

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

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

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

Internally, he cringed at her falsely positive voice.

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

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

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

"What are you writing?"

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

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

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

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

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Nope," replied Dart flatly.

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

"It's not that weird."

"You keep telling yourself that."

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

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

The bracket had many more names printed on it, with almost all the first tier's matches having been completed. Dart scanned through the names of the warriors who had made it to the second round and noticed that there was only one match left before the second-tier matches began. His eyes hovered over one name that sounded familiar to him, but he dismissed the thought.

Over the past couple days, Dart had grown accustomed to the feel of the arena, and he was now quite comfortable here. He could feel the familiar air of excitement rustle through the crowd as the next match approached, and he watched eagerly to see who would be competing. As the contestants stepped into the arena and made their way toward what was left of the circle, Dart studied them. One wore simple leather armor and wielded a short sword; the other was draped with chainmail and carried a shield and longsword. Leaning to his right, Dart consulted Rose.

"Which one will win?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The guy with the chainmail," answered Lavitz.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you gamble, Rose?"

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah."

He glanced over at Shana again, and this time their eyes met, and he quickly turned away. He had to figure out something to say to her, he concluded. He just needed some time alone with her. He thought about simply asking her to walk with him around the arena, but then the others would know. I'll just wait, he thought, rubbing his face with his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

At long last, the contestants of the next round strolled out, one from each side. The one nearer them carried two short swords, already drawn and ready to slice. He was a tall man, limber, and strong.

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

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

"What?" asked Lavitz.

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

"Impressive," muttered Rose.

"I know him," continued Dart. "The one without swords. I met him two or three years ago, out east. A fearsome fighter, obviously."

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

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

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

"I should probably go say hello."

Eager to avoid the awkward silence that would soon arise, Dart stood abruptly and stumbled past Lavitz.

"Whoa, take your time."

"Sorry," Dart muttered, casting one more backward glance to Shana before leaving. She watched him go – he could feel her eyes on his back – but he didn't feel like explaining himself to her.

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

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

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

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

Peering out from the stairwell, Dart saw Haschel and a victor from an earlier fight facing each other. Haschel stood calmly with his hands clasped behind his back, but the other warrior had his hand on his sword hilt to accompany his angry expression. Even as Dart stepped into the room, the man unsheathed his sword and swung it at Haschel, but a second later, he lay in a heap on the floor. Dart raised an eyebrow at Haschel's quick movements.

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

"He started it," said Haschel innocently.

"Ugh," grunted the man on the floor.

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

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

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

"No way!" he cried, grinning wildly.

"Haschel!" laughed Dart, wrapping him in a tight hug. "It's good to see you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And you," returned Dart. Then he remembered that he was in Lohan, not the wilderness, and that he no longer traveled alone. "Hey, why don't I introduce you to my friends?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, yes! I think you'll make a fine pair, if he can get over himself."

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

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

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

As he spoke, Dart glanced over to Shana, who was eyeing him with irritation.

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

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

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

"Are you from Tiberoa then?"

Haschel smiled. "A bit farther than that."

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

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

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

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

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

Snatching her right hand back forcefully, Rose placed her left hand on her sword hilt, and a slight halo of darkness, imperceptible except to the dragoons, surrounded her figure as she glared at Haschel. "Don't touch me again," she said, her calm voice contrasting her imposing demeanor.

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

Dart and Lavitz exchanged a comical glance as everyone agreed, and the group of five made their way back to the One-Eyed Crow and settled into a larger table. Shana sat as far from Dart as possible, and he frowned. Lavitz ordered a round of drinks for each of them, and soon enough they were engulfed in conversation. Dart had forgotten how much Haschel liked being the center of attention, and the old man kept Shana and Lavitz enraptured, often making jokes at Dart's expense. Much of the discussion circulated around the competition and the various contestants they had seen around Lohan, but occasionally Haschel managed to slip in a story of his time roaming Endiness. Those were the stories that had always intrigued Dart, and he listened to them avidly.

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

"Master Haschel..." began Shana.

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

"Okay then, Haschel," she laughed. "You said... that you left your hometown twenty years ago. Why did you leave? And why have you never gone back?" Her voice had turned soft and careful.

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

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

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

"No," replied Haschel, shaking his head slightly. "I haven't yet. But you know, twenty-five years is a long time. So occasionally, I allow myself a break and do something like—" he grinned and shrugged, grabbing his glass for another swig "—join a Hero Competition."

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

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

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

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

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

"Good idea," said Lavitz.

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

They made their way upstairs, and on the third floor, Rose excused herself and retreated to her room. Shana, however, followed them into their tiny, windowless room, and they all sat as Dart began the story of his return to Seles.

Over the next hour, Dart, with some help from Shana and Lavitz, detailed all the events that had occurred since that fateful trip to Hellena Prison, with a skillful skirt around Shana's demonstration in the cave. Haschel listened the entire time, making particularly loud exclamations as Dart revealed the truth about their dragoon natures. It took some time and a demonstration of the glowing dragoon spirits to convince Haschel that they weren't just teasing him.

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

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

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

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

"What?" asked Dart.

"Nobody knows about us..."

"Yes...?"

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

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

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

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

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

They all agreed, and an uneasy silence filled the room. The possibility of being man-hunted by Doel's men was not a pleasing thought to Dart. He hadn't considered until now how much of a problem he'd posed to Sandora's war schemes, but he was suddenly afraid of what might be awaiting them, even within the city. His next match was tomorrow morning; would someone recognize him and turn them in?

The tension was thick in the room. After a few more minutes, Dart used the excuse of his match the next day to scatter the group. Haschel thanked them for a good time and bounded down the stairs, and Lavitz offered to bring Dart and Shana some food from the mess hall.

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

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

"Suit yourselves," he said before heading down.

Shana muttered a soft farewell before heading toward the door.

Say something, Dart told himself. Say something now, before she leaves.

His heart began to pound; he had no inkling of what he wanted to say, except that he wanted to fix what was broken.

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

"Yeah?"

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

"Sure, what about?"

He hesitated.

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

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

Her expression changed. Where she was innocently curious, she now seemed reserved and guarded.

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

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

"Sure."

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

He held out his hand awkwardly, and she shook it.

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

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

"Wonderful."

"Good night, Dart."

"Good night, Shana."

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