Oswald had failed. He'd searched the capital, he'd searched Altus, he'd gone to nigh every place that had ever held meaning to Tiche that he knew of. It was with withered hopes and flickering spirit that he at last crested the hill that allowed him view of his destination.

Lady Lila's farmstead was one of the only pieces of land within the outer wall of Leyndell that had remained wholly untouched by war. Nestled in the far pastures that lined the jagged cliffs where once the shadow lands lay, it was a quaint preservation of a much better time. Oswald had spent his summer's here as a child, learning spearmanship from his lord Owain's father, Lord Hywel of the crucible knights. Lady Lila had taught him to read, to ride a horse, even how to sew. Both of Owain's esteemed parents had imparted untold wisdom to him when he'd been nothing but a street rat their son had saved from poverty.

He would never be so presumptuous as to openly consider the lady and lord family, but…sometimes he did think it so, in the quiet parts of his heart. This would be his first trip hence since the shattering began and he was exceedingly nervous. He halted his horse, Shaselfa, atop the hill. He had stationed four companies of sentinels here for decades, until the sieges of Leyndell had broken. Reginald had considered it a gross misallocation of the golden host, but King Morgott had taken Oswald's side, and would not be swayed.

Not that any of besides Godefroy had ever made an attempt to encroach upon Lady Lila or the small township she presided over. Ser Kristoff had earned high honors in his victory of the grafted wretch. Lady Malenia had even escorted him and his prisoner to an evergaol personally. Oswald shivered, reluctant to bring such dark memories to the surface once more.

He patted Shaselfa's brawny neck with a murmur, he'd lingered long enough. His amble up to the comely farm house gave him too much time to doubt himself. What if Lady Lila scorned him for his long absence? What if she was not even here at all? What if she…what if she saw through his haunted eyes the kind of man she had never wanted him to become. Would she be able to tell the horrors he'd committed at just a glance? Lady Lila was an imposing woman, she made Oswald feel like the same boy of fourteen summers he'd been at his first visit whensoever she did something as small as glare at him. Oswald sighed.

He had not heard the woman's footsteps as he'd undone Shaselfa's bridle, it was only out of pure luck that he didn't make an instant fool of himself at her voice, "Sentinel?"

Oswald whipped his head around, that was not Lady Lila's voice.

"Sentinel, pray, what needs have you? Lady Lila bid me greet and host you should you desire repose. I would be most grateful for news as well, could you spare the time."

Lady Lila's hair was deep black, not low shining gold, and she was nowhere near this tall nor broad shouldered. Lady Lila's voice was husky and commanding, not this velvet sweetness that graced his ears. No, before him stood not the Lady Lila, but instead she who he had been most desperately searching for for weeks.

Tiche.

Oswald ripped his helm from his head, letting it fall to the dirt. "Tiche." he whispered, disbelieving.

The woman's face went through myriad expressions as they both mutely stared in confusion. He saw shock, hurt, anger, and hesitance, before she settled on happiness. It was only Shaselfa's whiney that broke Tiche from her daze. "Os-Oswald! Oswald!" she whooped with joy, sprinting forward to tackle him to his back. He landed with a hard exhale as she rained kissed down upon his face. "Os! Os! By the goddess!" She would not stop her exclamations apart from yet more kisses.

Oswald was concentrating primarily on not fainting like an idiot. He'd forgotten how to breathe, how to speak, how to do much of anything besides kiss her back. It was a few minutes of frantic embracing later that he even remembered his own name. He laughed as he tried to pull away for air and she would not let him, "Tiche! Che, I am not going to disappear, let me breathe, woman!"

How had she unbuckled his breastplate so quickly? Where had his vambraces gone? Full lips stole his breath once more, "I do not know that! You've been gone nigh a century, who's to say this is not a dream? I must enjoy you whilst I hold you for certain in my arms." Tiche nodded to herself before flinging away one of his pauldrons. Surely she did not intend to take him here in broad daylight?

Oswald stilled her roving hands with a laugh, the first he heard from himself since she'd left his side, "I should have known you would be the place I would think to go last."

She leaned back to settle astride his hips, face guarded, "You have been looking for me?" she looked sadly towards the far capital ramparts, "I was not sure you ever would considering how I…"

Oswald took advantage of the ground she had given, sitting up and settling her in his lap that they might sit nose to nose. Her long legs sprawled out to either side of him, her dress riding precariously up pale thighs. After a century of war and hate and drowning misery, he held his his best friend in his arms once more.

He had always loved that they were the same height. "It has been dark days for us both, methinks, but the sun has returned. I bring much news and grand tidings." The smile he gave was free of the weight of all the years of their parting.

Tiche flung her arms about his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck, "Oh, my most beloved Oswald. Can you…can you ever forgive me?"

He smiled softly, pulling her closer, "I forgave you by the time I finished reading the letter." And he had. He'd never been able to hold any anger towards her, not when he'd seen the tear stains that marred her shaky handwriting, not when it'd been so many pages of hastily scribbled declarations of undying love and devotion.

She leaned back in his hands to pout at him, "Why did you never come! You sent so many sentinels yet never did you come yourself! I oft asked after you but all the men would tell me is that you were stationed in far Limgrave."

Oswald cast his eyes down, "I could not…I should have been at Owain's side. That night. When those foul black knives-when they slew him so horribly I should have been there! I could not face Lady Lila knowing I had failed her so."

Tiches face was shadowed, her expression one he had never seen before, "Oswald…" hearing his name uttered so forlornly made his chest ache.

He quickly rallied himself, let them leave the past where it belonged! "But the times and the lands between have changed greatly, as has our future, if you would still share it with me. Come-"

A low chuckle made the both of them leap in fright, Tiche had spent many of her summers here as well and the same response was ingrained in her, "Well now, what nonsense have I lingerin' beyond mine doorstep? Didst not my errant son teach ye better boy?"

Rolant had been secretly relieved that he had not been called upon for the journey to Volcano manor. Not that it had been a surprise, besides the stormveil recruits, he was one of the shortest served sentinels. The Lord Commander had only taken the most deadly and ancient of their order with him to Gelmir. As Rolant scratched Lobo in the particular spot beneath his chin he seemed to most enjoy, the sentinel contemplated his place in the golden rampart.

It was an honor unmatched in Leyndell's armed forces, to even be considered for sentinelship, one had to serve fifty years at least of exemplary and unblemished service as a knight, not to mention those awful classes under the perfumers. A man had to prove he held strength far beyond the norm, magical power that surpassed even a sorcerer's apprentice, and most importantly, that he held the qualities of character the highlord sought.

Rolant watched the very man himself stride across the courtyard where he and Latenna sat beneath a shady oak. Captain Aldo, finally returned from Caelid, at his lord's shoulder. Aldo was a large man, and even he looked small next to the highlord. It boggled Rolants mind that the Carians were taller even than Lord Owain. Seeing all of them beside each other was certainly surreal. General Radahn especially seemed simply impossible.

The men of the tree sentinels were righteous to a one. Just and honorable, kind and peace-seeking, intelligent and discerning. The older sentinels teased Rolant often for his shorter term, but even he had passed the true test of the order. Before his lord had died, the final test before one was granted one's halberd was single combat against the Lord Commander. The stormveil recruits only had to face Ser Oswald and, while he was a powerful warrior, Lord Owain was…Lord Owain. Rolant shuddered at the memory of his own ordination, he'd almost died, and he had only needed to last five minutes! To think Lord Reginald had lasted twenty. He shook his head with a wince.

The stormveil sentinels had caused enough trouble, especially that vile Archibald. The story of the man's execution had made him afraid to even meet the highlord's eye for weeks. The sentinels that had spectated…they had instilled new and lasting order into the fresh recruits. Order that had been greatly needed in all the armies of gold.

The Lord Commander's grisly murder had thrown the golden rampart into complete disarray. Rolant and his golden brothers could never have imagined such a thing even possible, century upon century of unwavering service and victory, the unassailable might of their order and their leader, all dashed in a single night.

None had expected the entire chain of command to be so gutted. Lord Owain was next in line to hold emergency authority after the Queen, Elden Lord, and Black Blade, to lose all four had been calamitous.

Many of the newer sentinels had pledged themselves to Ser Oswald, Lord Owain's squire and destined successor. Many of those longer serving and almost the entirety of the malformed dragon worshippers pledged themselves to Lord Reginald, the Vice-Commander and Lord Owain's second. The two sides had come close to true war in the fragile days after the Burnished one's death.

The months following the night of black knives had been fraught with intense panic. The golden city had been in a spiraling tumult, and none of the demigods could quell the fear. It was only when Oswald renounced his claim and set out with the Highlord's death carriage that things settled into an uneasy peace. At least, until the grafted's foul betrayal, which sparked the shattering war in full.

Lord Reginald was an exceptional warrior, intelligent, stalwart, and zealous; but he had never expected to take up the mantle of Lord Commander, to say nothing of Highlord of Leyndell's defense. The first siege of Leyndell had been catastrophic, with some of Godefroy's forces even piercing the outer wall. The dragon knights had come to the sentinels' aid, much to the order's great shame. Such a thing would have been unheard of before Lord Owain's death. Rolant watched his lord converse with the lady tricia with an odd mix of long held grief and tentative hope.

The shattering had ruined them, plain and simple. Their order had been decimated in countless battles against foes that far outnumbered them and with little resolve or hope to rally themselves. To think, they had once numbered nigh one hundred thousand! Barely twenty thousand yet remained, the number falling even further after the Caelid campaign. It was a choking truth to swallow.

Lo, their destiny had begun to change! Rolant could feel it stronger every day, every moment that brought them closer to complete restoration of the Golden Order. Owain the Burnished was returned! With him, had returned life to most all the kingdom's provinces. The sentinels had been long decayed, eroded and entrapped in tangling despair and sticking shame. No longer! Surely the day was nigh that even the golden city would be fully repaired, surely his beloved Highlord could revive Lord Godwyn, could find the queen, the king, even Lord Malekith! After the miracles Rolant had seen with his own eyes, he could never again bring himself to doubt his lord. What else did they fight for if not to set things back into perfect order?

He shook himself from his pondering, worried he might have ignored his companion for too long. Latenna's pale hand was soft in his as they reclined against her slumbering other half, her eyes lingering on a book he had borrowed from the Princess Ranni's library. He smiled at she who had occupied his heart of late.

She had been so patient with his hectic schedule. Rolant had been set with ever piling duties the last few weeks. The Highlord prepared their most momentous campaign yet. A mass migration northward of those that sought to cultivate new land in Altus.

They were to return to Leyndell! Caria was flooded with thousands of sentinels, those that had been lucky enough to be pulled from Limgrave, Mourne, and Liurnia, or their duties watching the Reeds ships. Lord Moongrum's new knights were taking over their posts, thankfully it seemed General Radahn had a plan in motion already.

Rolant caught himself watching Latenna again, something he'd been unable to stop since what felt like the first moment he met her. He was so relieved they would not have to part, as she would be aiding their convoy in protecting the albinarics that had been rescued from Gelmir, the hidden village, and abroad Liurnia and Caria. He'd been worried for her at first, but had quickly been assuaged by her deadly skill with her warbow.

"Are you excited, Tenna?" he leaned his head to land softly on her slim shoulder.

She hummed, still leafing through her book, "The Lord Commander offers my people a new home on the fertile plains of Altus, of course I am excited."

Rolant laughed, "I meant about the journey! About seeing your sisters once more!" He lowered his volume at Lobo's groan of annoyance.

Her pale eyes flickered to his, "It will be some time before I am able to make for Ordina, Ro. I'll likely have to wait on the highlord to clear a path. Things have shifted since my descent south." When she'd recounted her perilous journey to him over tea one day, Rolant could scarcely believe it. Her and Lobo had faced tribulation far beyond the ability of most.

He shifted, absentmindedly toying with the fabric of her dress, "Stay optimistic! It won't be long."

Latenna sighed, placing her book aside and gathering his hands in her own, "I…I meant what I said before, about you comin' with me."

Rolant could not bear the hopeful stare she gave him. "Tenna…" Goddess, was she lovely.

She waved a hand, "I know, your order, but there's more to life than duty, Ro. I thought maybe you'd seen that by now." her snowy brows pinched.

"I have, its just-" how could he explain what the Tree Sentinels meant to him in a way she'd actually understand? "A sentinels vows are-"

The archer patted his hands gently, "Unto death or righteous end of duty, I know." she brought his palms to her face, she liked to kiss his calluses, "The fate of my people has already changed, my fate. These past few months of idle contentment with you have been eye-openin'. Your highlord has a wife, he wishes to retire! If-" he pressed a hand over her mouth, she knew better than to say such things so loudly!

Rolant shifted once more to throw an arm around her wirey shoulders, "I know, I know what you're saying and what you mean. I-I'll talk to my lord about it, alright. Maybe he'll even give me a special position as liaison to the albinarics or some such." her lips met his with a small laugh. Why did he feel like he'd played directly into her plan?

"Stay optimistic, Ro." she giggled. Lobo huffed at their back, almost like he was laughing as well.

Owain closed the great doors to the queen's bedchamber quietly, nodding to Tricia as the woman looked up from where she sat at Renalla's bedside. "Any change?" He murmured.

The perfumer nodded, laying a hand to the sleeping queen's brow. "She is hale, it is I who keeps her asleep, just to ensure all has settled."

Owain sank slowly atop the queen's bedside, eyes taking in her renewed health. "Can she make the journey?" he asked softly.

The healer sighed, glaring at him. "Aye."

What had he done now? "Tricia?"

Tricia's light brows scrunched in the way that denoted she was about to impart a lesson, Owain groaned. "Should she? Why not go forth without her and establish a portal stone?"

"I…I do not wish her from my sight." Too much was at stake, Mother Rennala must not come to harm.

Tricia sighed once more, looking at him as if he were one of the princes misbehaving during her lessons. "And you think she shall be safer upon the road? Ofnir will almost certainly use this chance to strike. You will be too fortified in the city." Owai scowled.

"I know." His hand found the queen's, at least her fingers did not seem so frail now, "But strike at whom? What if I should leave her here and the rat attempts to harm her? Where is safer in these lands than at my side?"

"Is Godwyn safe, Wain?" she asked softly, golden eyes locked to his own.

His heart twinged at the low blow, "Tricia."

Her touch was tender to his scarred knuckles, her voice gentle, "Your pride edges to arrogance, old friend. I only remind you that you can fail, especially alone." She had the right of it, of course she did. Was it the runes that spoke such foolishness? Or was it his own hubris? It was getting difficult to discern of late.

He straightened his shoulders, the perfumer must have a plan. "What would you have me do?"

She waved a hand, "Leave, take this host of hopeful harvest along with you. We shall come along when a proper portal way has been placed. The Carian knights, the Lady Lansseax, and two of Her Majesty's sons; are they not enough of a defense?" It was a path he had long contemplated, but such a way had remained unchosen for one simple reason.

"Ranni will not like this." he worked his jaw, already anticipating the argument.

Tricia's eyes flickered to the door, "She is your wife, not your liege. She will see sense."

"Easy words from one who will not face her wrath." he laughed weakly.

Tricia rolled her eyes, "Relax Wain. She is clever, she will see the sense in what I say."

He stood, ready to face his little tempest, "I appreciate your blunt tongue, Tricia." he snarked.

She shooed him away with a laugh, "And I would appreciate a day of peace, but you can not seem to gift me that, can you?" Friso's snickers went ignored as he opened the door for Owain.

"Aye, Wain, was that not always the plan?" Ranni looked at him quizzically over the edge of one of the three books she was reading atop her chaise in his study.

"Ah. Yes." He said stiffly. Was he just an idiot?

She quirked a brow, "What?"

"You are not upset she will not be at our side?" Something must have happened, she was being particularly mellow. Even after that captain of Ofnir's had offered up no useful information.

She closed one of her books with a flicked wrist, setting it to land atop his coffee table, "Well… aye, but t'would be more upsettin' should she be harmed durin' our journey."

Owain nodded to himself as he sat behind a shortening pile of paperwork. "Well, I am glad that's settled."

Some ten thousand journeyed under protection of he and his men. Four thousand sentinels, thousands of knights, pages, perfumers, and every other trade that propped up such a massive moving force. Owain still felt that he was sorely unprepared.

His worries lessened slightly as the sentinels he'd left at Gelmir rejoined him at the Altus junction. To move so many through the lift of Dectus had taken three tedious weeks. The time was spent with the minor lords of Altus as well as what remained of the house of the shaded castellens, Maleigh Marais. Owain had always regarded the boy with suspicion, Maleigh's lingering eyes were ever upon Princess Malenia whilst he journeyed to the capitol and it had always irritated the sentinel. He put aside his personal distaste to work with the disgraced noble as, for all his faults, Maleigh was excellent at logistics.

He and the lords and ladies of the plateau allocated land, manpower, and resources to the hundreds of families he brought with him. A process that was as intricate as it was a hassle for Owain.

As per his orders to Reginald when he had first been restored to his position, most all the remnants of bloody war across the Altus plains were already well underway of being removed. The citizens he shepherded aided in the work as well, a relief as Owain had no wish to idle in low Altus overlong. He would leave the majority of his men at Dectus, to oversee order in his absence.

It was a full moon after they arrived, after much of the citizens, including all of the Albinarics, had been properly rehomed and allocated land, that Ranni found him in his office at the Dectus garrison.

She held a letter betwixt raised fingers. "Tricia says mother canst be woken. Come Wain, we must away home to Caria." he looked dispassionately at the maps he'd been reviewing, happy for the excuse to depart.

"Have you the magic to ferry us there?" Owain knew she'd been struggling to regain a few of the spells of finer control since her rebirth, long distance translocation was a magic of the highest caliber.

She huffed, "Aye. Of course." It was cute when she looked down her nose at him like that.

He brought her to him for a smiling kiss, "Then take me, most skilled of witches." She rolled her eyes but did as he asked.

Ranni tugged her husband along impatiently. They were so close to Rykard's awakening! Radahn met them in the queen's bedchamber, Tricia shooing them from her bedside, "Her Majesty may yet be confused upon waking, it is best to give her a modicum of space." The perfumer lifted her spell of slumber with a glowing hand.

Mother's eyes snapped open, aglow with arcane power as she reared up in her bed. "Mother! Mother be calm! All is well!" Ranni cried, watching Owain sway on his feet in the corner of her eye. She really should have trained him to attain a higher level of magical resistance.

Mother's gaze dimmed, sliding to Ranni's face. Her eyes were wide and unseeing for a moment before clarity shone and she ushered her children forward. "What of Rykard?" Mother murmured as she ran her hand down Ranni's back. Ranni did not miss the way her fingers shook.

How could she tell her of the…complications? "His soul is safe in Sellen's simulacrum."

Mother hummed, "Ah…yes, good; and where is thy fath-" she felt the tension in mother's arms at her slip of the tongue. The ensuing silence was unbearable.

Ranni looked back at her husband, "Wain, fetch Sellen." she asked quietly. He nodded before swiftly making his escape.

"I am fine, children." Mother said softly.

"Is it such a terrible thing? To be mad in small measure?" Radahn rumbled, squeezing them both tight. "It is a trait our family shares, does that not make it precious?" Trust her brother to make light of such dark things.

Mother actually laughed, though it was brittle, "Perhaps thou'rt right, little lion mine."

It was a sublime dream to be close to her family like this, a faraway memory made holding flesh. Ranni was surprised by the tears that stole her sight. They shared tentative jokes for the few minutes it took for Wain to usher in Sellen, whose manner made Ranni think of a sulking cat. Mother's face flashed with myriad emotions as she beheld the graven witch. "Sellen." she smiled.

Sellen crossed arms before chest, looking away petulantly, "Nalla." she muttered. "Let us not dally, I am quite a busy woman." Ranni hid a laugh at Wain's scandalized scowl.

Mother nodded clemently, "Aye, aye. Come then, I too wishest to see mine Rykard restored in full."

Ranni froze, she had yet to tell her of the tattered state of Rykard's soul. Sellen must have realized this as well, as her haughtiness fell away to reveal apprehension. Ranni frowned as she aided mother out of bed, perhaps it was simply better to just be blunt. "Mother." she started hesitantly, just as they reached the doorway.

Mother's sucked in a breath, pinching her brow. "What? What new tragedy must thou revealeth to me? What ill news? Always must mine joy be dashed by sorrow!" The change in the air was sudden but should have been expected.

Ranni pressed on, "Not all of Rykard's soul couldst be saved-"

Mother whirled to Sellen, the shorter woman cowering into the hallway. "What harm dost such a thing cause?" Radahn caught Owain under the arm before he could topple over from the magic in the air. Ranni sighed.

Sellen had been backed into the far wall of the hallway, mother leering over her, "I…do not know. We shall have to see when the boy wakes." Queen and traitor met brows for a moment before Mother snarled and with a flash of magic, the group appeared in the entrance hall of Ranni's tower.

Mother snapped out a pointed finger, "Ranni, his soul." Ranni patted the front of her robes, she already held the simulacrum. Mother nodded before flinging open the tower towers with an impatient wave of her hand, "Owain, Radahn, leave us."

Radahn stepped forward in protest, "Mother-"

"Leave us." Mother commanded, the temperature of the large room plummeting even as the lighting in her eyes roused. An angry Radahn and dazed Owain complied without further protest.

The queen slammed the doors shut with a pull of her hand, "Hath thee a body to house him?" she asked Sellen.

The sorceress grimaced, "A few tarnished, recently caught trespassing. They are of…low quality." Ranni felt a headache forming, this was going rather poorly.

Mother turned to her, "Hath thee a plan?"

Ranni nodded her head to Sellen, who seemed annoyed that the attention was once more upon her, "I would craft him a mended soul, of substance snatched from the tarnished. Though I know not what will be lost in the rite."

Mother breathed shakily for a few moments and Ranni watched her eyes well with tears before she swiped them away, "Thou'rt up to the task?" she questioned, tone heavy.

Sellen scoffed, "Of course."

Ranni misliked the heavy feeling in her chest, the shadow that crowded the edges of her heart. Every day she told Wain she wished for the light, and at every new opportunity, she failed to push away the dark. She slapped palms to cheek, enough hesitation, only one more ignobility need be done! The foolish tarnished had sealed their fate as soon as they made for the runes!

Mother pulled her cascading hair back with a tie, "Let us begin then. Ranni, go and bid Moongrum fetch the tarnished." Ranni faltered for a moment, she knew mother wished to speak to Sellen alone, or she would have just summoned Moongrum herself with spell. The princess fled her tower with a worry that seemed to grow heavier with each step.