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[h3]The Duchy of Zerul, by a road in southwest[/h3]
There was no denying the growing sense of anxiety Jaelnec felt from the moment Aemoten uttered the words that once again placed the squire as leader of a group, not with how catastrophic his first experience bearing the burden of leadership had proven for everyone involved. He tried his best to simply push it aside and ignore the feeling, making sure to keep his naughty left hand away from the hilt of Roct while expressing nothing with his mien or body-language but confidence. They were not going to be apart for long, after all; they would in all likelihood be reunited later that day, and then everything was going to be better. Aemoten was going to resume the position as leader, they would all have proper beds and safe places to sleep, they would get to learn how Meila’s father had managed to recover from the Withering, and they would all be able to rest and heal while in the safety of one of the major cities of Rodoria. Everything was going to be fine.
Still, it was with a heavy heart and deep worry that Jaelnec watched the Sekalyn ride off atop his strikingly loyal dekkun, and despite his opinion of the god and unwillingness to rely on him he offered a silent prayer to Laon to keep the three of them – Aemoten, Thaler and Etakar – safe until Jaelnec himself could be there to protect them. Who knew, maybe being alone with each other for a bit would be good for the daywalker and the man who loved her.

And then he was left alone with Domhnall and Olan. The young nightwalker suddenly felt incredibly awkward standing before them like this, alone and presumably under careful scrutiny by those who would eagerly await their chance to criticize and overthrow his leadership rather than simply being a pillar of strength to reinforce Aemoten’s position. What was he supposed to do or say just about now? How had he gotten this meek in the short time since stepping down as leader? How –
“We should probably gather a bit of firewood or something, you know?” Olan rescued his younger kinsman from his own crippling sense of insecurity by saying, looking around at nothing in particular. “Maybe get some food ready. All this talking about eating has gotten me a bit hungry, I think...”
“Yeah, good idea,” the squire agreed, flinching as he noticed that his left hand had strayed dangerously close to Roct again. “The faster we get everyone in a condition to travel, the sooner we can work on catching up to Aemoten and Thaler.”

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[h3]Duchy of Pelgaid, secluded pond[/h3]
A powerful twitch went through Gerald’s entire body when Jillian suddenly reached out and grabbed the tip of his staff, and he winced visibly with the sheer force of will it was necessary for him to muster in order to prevent himself from reflexively yanking Omni from her hands and probably knocking her on her head with it for good measure. Omni was [I]his[/I], part of his mind insisted; something precious that belonged only to him, and which only he was allowed to touch and manipulate. This was a sentiment he would have to get past if they were going to use the artifact to teach Jillian with, obviously, which was why he even made the effort to stop himself.
It felt like it had been so long since he had been close to another person like this... not in a romantic or sensual fashion, but in a position that to such an extent required him to suspend his own distrust toward the world and everyone in it. The last several years, he started to realize, had taken their toll on him in more ways than what had been inflicted by the Withering in that the loneliness of his near-complete solitude had rendered him so afraid of getting close to people. It was a necessity and a conscious decision that he had to remain alone, of course, but that was a [I]choice[/I]; not being able to do so was a weakness, not a strength, and to achieve his goals he could not afford weakness of any kind.

“I didn’t,” he told her, ignoring his own reluctance to let her touch his staff and instead concentrating on answering her question. “I never went to the Black Tribunal – in fact this is the first time I’ve even visited Pelgaid – and I have never met or seen Delian Gilmah. They came to me.” He sighed. “I didn’t steal Omni, and to be honest I don’t even know for certain how I came to have it at all. It may be that Delian has managed to craft more than one and is giving them to all of her necromancers – though none of the ones that came to instruct me had one – but I don’t know. All I can really say for certain is that one day, months after I had been exiled from Zerul and I’d found my new home in Nemhim, it just... showed up.” He shrugged. “I just woke up one day and there it was, just randomly lying there below a closed window. I can’t explain it, but ever since then it’s been mine, and no one has come to claim it, which I guess means that they either want me to have it or they don’t know that I have it.”
He allowed a small tickle of magical energy to flow into the staff, causing the emerald at the tip of the staff to emit a soft, gentle light. “But yes, given that I cut all contact with them and give them nothing in return for the time and resources they invested in training me as a necromancer, I’d imagine that they aren’t entirely pleased with me.”