After they left the Remade village, Cyril led them forward until after the sun had fallen, and their horses had begun to stumble against unseen rocks and pits in the ground. In the dark they dismounted, and for awhile they struggled into Alasa had gathered enough to create a small fire. Suddenly, the darkness was forced to flee back into shadows as they stood there on the side of the road.

"Get as much rest as you can." Cyril ordered, pulling his own pack from his steed. "Alasa, you're on first watch with Sampson. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us in the night."

The sky was clear up above, and the ground dry beneath them. It was a perfect night to sleep out under the stars, picturesque even... And yet after what had just happened, what they had just seen and dealt with destroyed whatever peace there might have been. Diane, still splattered with mud, gave just a single glare in the direction of both Cyril and the Paladin before she set her own roll out upon the ground. The Sentinels stepped gingerly around her, in order not to set her off.

Alasa sat himself in one direction on the road, while Sampson sat on the other side of the camp. Gortul sat down, beginning to sharpen his axe, and Kisarin joined him, cleaning the bits of gore and coating of blood from his own blade. Alsius stood a little away from the spot picked as the camp for the group, a cigarette already smoking away. The Paladin, meanwhile, simply knelt by himself, and began to pray, even as Cyril sat down by himself and began to think.

Cyril did not consider himself to be any better than anyone else, especially when it came to unpleasant deeds. He had first wounded a man severely when he was fifteen, and then the next year he had ended up killing someone. Since then, try as he might to avoid it, every so often he had ended up killing a bandit; when the war had broken out, he had killed plenty as well. 

Sometimes it kept him up, but he always fell back on how it had been necessary. It had been necessary to kill the bandits to keep himself and his friends alive. It had been necessary to kill the H'kelans for the same reasons. Gartian was a requirement simply because the man wouldn't have given up until dead.

Seeing torture like that was a different matter entirely. He still felt sick to his stomach. Perhaps there had been no way around it either; the entire village had been Remade, beyond helping, but there was a difference between killing in self-defense and interrogation...

Slowly, he shook his head. It was the first time he had ever seen any number of Remade, and he didn't want to see one ever see again. Their drive, their fanaticism, it was something beyond mere mortals could do; and the way that the man had instantly gone from weeping to singing praises, even as the nails within him began to burn that was completely, utterly unnatural.

The Gifted had fought against that for years during their war. What had they had to do in order to survive? In order to be able to function? How had they gathered the resolve they needed to do that time, and time again.

How could Yaguar, a man who had fought against those who could Remake, fall to using it himself, nevermind how was he able to do it in the first place?

He brought both of his hands together, interlocking his fingers as he stared towards the fire. He felt sick, and there was nothing he could do about it.

[b]Stark and Damon[/b]

Through the quiet travels leaving the Remade village Stark absently chewed on the inside of her cheek-deep in thought. So many questions were whirling in her head-this information was bad news. From the few stories Alice had told her during their starting travels- The Gifted, like Ser Joachim were the ones who fought against the Remade...the people like in that village and eventually the people who MADE the Remade. How did they even do such a thing? Why do such a thing?

What would happen if this power was unleashed again? Stark knew very little, outside of the verbal story telling she had heard from Alice and some of the stories she had been able to read in texts in the library, about details of the last time something like this had happened. 

Her thoughts were snapped in half as Alasa lit a fire and Cyril gave them all orders to rest. Stark felt her eyes follow Damon to where he went off to pray.

She began to chew on her cheek again, now raw and bleeding, as she thought back to what had even happened inside of the village. What her teacher had done. She had nothing but pure adoration of the man and trusted him with every fiber of her being but she wasn’t quite able to understand just what he had done. Whatever he had specifically done was brutal- the noises they had all heard had been testimony to that- and had infuriated Diane at the sight of it. She glanced at the woman, feeling her shoulders sag at the emotions written all over her face, as she finished setting up her own space on the edge of the fire light before pausing and glancing over at Damon once more.

She steeled herself as she squared her shoulders and crossed the camp to where Damon prayed. Stark took a knee, clasping her hands together as she quietly spoke prayers of her own.

The Paladin’s prayers continued on, unaffected by Stark’s presence. The man just continued his murmurs:

”... let Silvae forgive me, even as I depend upon Danmun’s strength; let Yumio understand, even as I seek for Azim’s blessing…”

In a cycle he went around, pleading one Divine’s forgiveness while asking support from the next; he continued even after all Seven had been exhausted, so that in turn each Divine had been both asked for forgiveness and assistance for what was to come. Only then did he finally open his eyes, relaxing ever slightly, as he brought one hand up to push his glasses up his nose slightly.

”Ye have questions, dear child?”

Stark prayers had been shorter- her kind scarcely able to put forth the focus to ask for guidance and to give her strength. 

She’d stilled when her teacher finally finished and addressed her. She was quiet for a moment longer before simply asking, ”What happened? What did you do?” there was no accusatory tone to her voice or any kind of negativity. Simply the desire to understand. 

”What I had to do.” The Paladin spoke simply, continuing, ”I nailed him to the wall to keep him still, to prevent him both from attacking me and possibly ending his own life. I was prepared to do more as necessary, but the King’s presence forced my hand to become even heavier, to reveal his condition.” He did not ask for understanding, or forgiveness.

Stark swallowed hard as she listened to Damon explain what he did. She, of course, had killed people and done terrible things but that was in battle. That was in war. This...this was done after the fighting had finished. ”Do you regret it? What you did to that man? Was there No other way to prove to His Highness about that man’s state?”

”I cannot regret what I did. It was what was necessary; the fact that they were not screaming Yaguar’s praises while in combat proves that they were prepared to go to the grave with their secret. Only through pain could I force them to the point of despair where they would call upon their perceived savior.”

”Perceived savior…” Stark quietly echoed back before adjusting and facing Damon fully. ”If we can kill Yaguar will the Remade go back to the way they were? If there are others, I mean. Will they go back to their own mind and body and sense and never have to endure such pain again?”

He shook his head. ”There is no guarantee. Some will immediately descend into madness, and kill each other. Some will fall into the deepest depression, and end their own lives. Some will never be the same again, shattered fragments of a person. Very few, if any, will become what they once were.”

She couldn't help the hand that covered her mouth or the fear and disgust flash across her face.”So being remade takes away everything that makes someone human...it turns them into a doll…” It was the easiest way for her mind to process everything before more questions came. ”If that is what happens to them then it was a mercy killing back in the village. What we did. It was out of mercy.” Of course she understood it was to protect themselves but before she could vocalize that another, much darker thought, bubbled up.

”Mister Dubois...if one of us is somehow remade...what will you do?” she knew what the answer would be but she needed to hear it.

”Put ye down as swiftly as I can.”

Her throat tightened once more and she felt pinpricks in her eyes- blinking away the tears threatening to fall with sheer will power. ”How can one avoid being Remade? Not all of us are Gifted…” Despite the set of her brow and the strength of her will her voice still shook.

Slowly, Damon shrugged. ”I do not know how Yaguar sets out Remaking yet. All I can suggest is to avoid being caught.”

Fear was crawling up her spine now. ”We’re going to lose people aren't we…” It wasn't a question. Stark closed her eyes for another moment before giving a half bow to Damon- a habit she still has yet to break. ”Thank you Teacher. If you’ll excuse me.”

”I wish I had something more pleasant that I could tell ye. But I will not lie to ye.” He nodded deeply.

”The day you lie to me is the day the world ends.” She quietly said over her shoulder as continued back towards her resting spot;hands in fists to hide the shaking and a sad smile on her lips.

[b]Stark and Godfrey[/b]

Godfrey’s kettle bubbled on the tiny burner, the merry and diminutive rumbling of the water boiling contrasted with the stunned, sickened silence that surrounded it. The king had called for rest, but after having experienced that surprise attack, Godfrey wasn’t exactly up on resting just so much. Instead, next to his kettle, he’d set up the apparatus he’d used to make the enhancement concoction for the Pirate, and busied himself with preparing the ingredients to make some more of it. 

Formulae flashed through his mind, and he set out several vaguely-labeled flasks and bottles on the flat workspace that his cart provided.

Silently, he looked over the group, counted how many there were, and then looked back down at his supplies. Maybe he’d have enough to make a dose for each person, if he was stringent and didn’t waste anything. He sighed, rubbed his head.

Stark had quietly sat down and observed Godfrey- though not really paying attention to his actions. The quiet of the night and the silence of the group was driving her insane as her own thoughts just echoed louder and louder. ”What are You creating Ser?” she quietly asked with a tilt of her head.

He regarded her, and a vision of Stark, but faster and stronger, danced across his eyes. “This,” he said with a bit of vocal flourish, “is a concoction that increases the amount of information you can intake during a fight, effectively making you faster than everyone else.” He let a little bit of pride slip through his words, despite the general malaise that the party suffered. So long as someone was watching, he would definitely have a bit more energy.

“It increases production of adrenaline, and opens up the receptors for that adrenaline, so that the world effectively slows down around you…” he began, and rattled off for a good fifteen seconds about this effect and that function. “Truly,” he said, and held up a flask which had just finished distilling, “better than magic.” He turned, and grinned a half-grin at Stark.

“This is the same infusion that I gave to the pirate, who repaid me with such wonderful face markings as I still have. You can ask him if you don’t believe me!”

Lighten the mood a little, maybe that will help raise the spirits.

Stark tried to give at least a smile as Godfrey explained what he was making. ”I dont doubt you See Godfrey. If his Highness believes you enough to bring you with us then I don't doubt your creation. Does it work with all kinds of people or strictly non magic users?” 

That question brought him to a dead stop.

“I’ve never even thought about that. Stark, you brilliant thing, I’ve never tested it on a magician before, and I would never have even thought about it! This is why I keep you around,” he said, and pulled a sheaf of paper from a portfolio in the cart. The papers were covered in scribbles and formulae, but he found the one he was looking for with no effort.

“...I don’t see why it wouldn’t work, but I have no idea if magical residue in the body will change the effects. I’ll have to run tests-- and that would have to be separate tests for those with inherent magical abilities, those with acquired abilities, and those with abilities granted by the Divines…” He trailed off for a moment, then looked back at Stark.

“You brilliant girl!”

Stark couldn't help but tilt her head curiously as Godfrey praised her. Such an odd thing to say to someone just asking questions. She pulled her knees in towards her chest and hugged her knees as she followed his train of thought. ”I think a good person to test would be on Miss Leon- er. Alice. She doesn't have strong magical presence but she is able to spell her sight when she is using her weapons. She might help you. Maybe Christopher? He is a half Divine and so is Ser Drosil Detail and Shadar. They might give you different results.” Stark paused and chewed on her cheek again before swallowing and speaking against, ”I can offer my own services as well. I was born is above average sight and hearing due to my bloodline so that would give off results…” She flushed before adding quickly, ”I think! I'm not sure though. Uh, I just was thinking aloud. I'm sorry. “

He scribbled down the names she’d mentioned. “Tonight’s not the night to start these tests, no. Nobody would be in the right mindset for it. Nobody but me, that is, ha ha…”

There was a brief pause, and suddenly, he straightened up, and tucked the papers back into their place. “I, uh… I got a little excited. My apologies,” he said. “I’m not a mad scientist, despite being both a scientist and what others might call mad now and again.”

He leaned back on the cart. “What’s this about a bloodline--” he started, but just then, the kettle whistled right next to him, and he jumped with a start. “Ye Divines!” he cursed, and put his hand on his chest, taking a breath.

“...it seems tea is up, if you’d like a cup?” he said, and, with another deep breath, shut off the tiny burner and picked up the kettle.

Godfrey was such an odd man but Stark couldn't help but chuckle under her breath as he gave apology. ”No need to apologize Ser. No harm done.”

Never had Stark been so thankful for a kettle to scream, though she winced at the noise, than in that moment. She pushed away the anxiety building inside as Godfrey offered a cup of tea. ”Yes please.” 

She perked up after a moment before twisting around and pulling her pack closer to her body- flipping back the top flap and pulling out various items. A book of the Divines, bundles of first aid supplies. A water skin. ”Aha! she exclaimed as she pulled out a simple silver tin.

She replaced the things in her bag before popping the tin with a smile. Inside was a sizable bundle of dried meat and a cloth around a bundle. She undid the bundle to reveal cookies; vibrantly colored for some. Others had cute designs. There were one or two plain looking ones as well. ”A friend of mine at the castle made these for me. He said they were called sugar cookies. I hadn't had a chance to try them before we had to leave. Think it'll taste good with tea?” Stark looked up at him with a smile in her offering.

“You’ve never had sugar cookies before? Oh man, strap yourself in, this is going to be a ride for you,” he said, and put a pinch full of dried, dark leaves into the scalding water. He set a teacup and, lacking another one, a round glass flask next to the kettle, and bustled in his things to see if he’d brought any cream.

“Depending on where you get them,” he started, “they are called different things. They are primarily butter and flour, with sugar to sweeten the deal. My manservant used to have them brought in from all over the world-- there’s such a dearth of variety! Lavender, nuts, thyme… Of course, I’m terrible at baking, despite it really just being another chemical reaction based on applying heat to a mixture.”

As he spoke, he poured the tea into the cup and flask, and handed the cup to Stark. “Do you know how much further it is before we get where we are going? I kind of wasn’t really paying much attention.” Truthfully, he liked being around Stark, even if the situation wasn’t the best. 

Stark shook her head, ”Mistress never liked my Lady having sweets and that rule extended to the rest of the house. I recently discovered that cakes can actually be different flavors other than vanilla. I got a stomach ache from eating too many flavors too fast.” She mused quietly as she watch Godfrey work with the herbs. 

She nodded in understanding about the not cooking. ”When Miss Alice found me she did all the cooking after I burned a hole through her cooking pot in our travels. I just gather the food and she cooks it. The cooks at the castle don't let me cook either. Not after I burned salad once.” Stark smiled into the back of her hand before she grabbed one of the cookies with a cute design and bit into it. She positively melted as she tasted the baked good.

”It's so gooooood.” she quietly stated as she took smaller bites- as though saving it and savoring the flavor. The water mage corrected herself and lowered the cookie before wiping away crumbs, ”I believe we should be arriving into Kyora tomorrow. Perhaps midday or so
“ Looking around camp she sighed, ”Don't expect to be there long Ser. It's not a time for dilly dallying unfortunately. It may be best if we are constantly on our toes.”

He nodded, sipped his tea. “I am only here because I am on my toes all the time, I suppose. Being doctor, chemist, and prescriptionist is a lot of work.” And poisoner, and delivery boy, and gravedigger, and…

At least it was quiet. For now. Who knows what kind of trouble they would meet with when they actually reached the city? And what would happen thereafter? It was in Godfrey’s best interests to not be left behind or killed, so he resolved to be at least useful enough to be considered worth keeping around until this whole thing blew over. He looked at the rapier and pistol hanging from the belt on the cart, and rolled his eyes slightly.

“Truthfully, Stark, I’m not the best person to have in a fight. I’m kind of cowardly, and not very great at anything but a gentleman’s duel. The king appointed me with some fancy title because I was useful once, minorly. I’m not really sure why I didn’t just tell His Majesty that I could not possibly leave my shop…”

Stark finished off her cookie and was already going for another one but fell short as Godfrey spoke. ”No one expects you to fight Ser. I mean no insult but we all knew you were joining us as an alchemist- not a fighter like near all of us. With that aside we will all do what we can to protect our own.” 

’Put ye down as swiftly as I can.’

She visibly flinched as Damon’s words echoed through her head- playing it off as a cough into her hand. ”Do you think perhaps you didn't tell him that because you subconsciously wanted to go?” The girl could be thought provoking...sometimes.

“What? Divines, no, this is a nightmare. You think I’d hang around the king on purpose? In my line of work?” he said, and then blinked hard. “I mean, being a chemist and all that.” His eyes landed briefly on the small, nondescript case strapped to the front of the cart.

“No, adventure is not my style. I like things to be self-contained, easy to study, easy to execute. Travelling wasn’t really something I did as a kid, either-- My, uh, good father preferred I stay on manor grounds for the most part.” He decanted another vial of the concoction, and then sipped his tea again.

“Why are you part of this… this whole thing?” he asked back.

”I don't really see what being a chemist has to do with not being around a King but I’ll trust your judgement.” She cool stated before sipping on her tea as he continued to speak before pausing at the question directed towards her being there.

Stark slowly lowered the tea and looked down at the cup in her hands, ”I didn't have anywhere else to go…” She couldn't tell him she had a bounty on her head from Jasi- it would scare him off. So she kept it vague.

”I was forced to flee my home in Jasi and ended up here. Miss Alice saved my life and we traveled together. We traveled to Gurata at one point and came across his Highness when he was still a Prince and the Sentinels and Alice asked to join them. I didn't want to be alone so I went with them.” There was a heavy pause before she continued with a slight smile, ”I honestly hadn’t expected to stay here this long but everyone here accepted me and welcomed me and didn’t see me as the servant i used to be. They saw me as their equal and...I just couldn’t leave that.” Her ever reflective eyes scanned over their campsite before looking to Godfrey, ”The longer you stay with us the more at home you’ll feel. I promise.” It was such an innocent heart filled statement.

Godfrey leaned back, let that idea sink into his mind. “Hopefully we will be able to ‘be at home’ in better circumstances than an active murder investigation and subsequent surprise attack by people dispossessed of their humanity sooner than later.” He rubbed the bruise on his knee tenderly. “I mean, I like a good friendly duel as much as the next guy, but that was a little overboard, don’t you think?”

Overhead, the sky was dark but clear. Godfrey looked up at it absently. “In the end, everyone’s pretty equal. Some people have better genes or are smarter or are stronger or whatever, some people are resistant to diseases or poisons, some people are great at solving puzzles and mysteries, some people can throw around mumbo-jumbo primordial energies like it’s a toy. Everyone’s good at something, I guess. Who’s to say what things are more important than others?”

He paused for a second, then grinned slightly. “Well, besides me.”

”With the villagers being Remades,” Stark put and extra emphasis on the ending word, ”What would have happened to them if we hadn't killed them would have been cruel. There is no fixing a Remade person Godfrey. Killing them breaks the strings that their controller has. It lets them die as humans- not dolls.” Starks throat had a knot in it before she continued quickly.

”We all may be made the same but society as we know it forces us to be grouped. The haves and have nots. Sadly, this is a world I was forced into. Being a have not made me realize that family isnt sitting under a roof with food maybe available. Its sitting under the stars surrounded by people I trust and care about. Its waking up knowing you're welcome and don't have to look down when passing people in the halls. Having some sort of a home is being happy with those around you is what I'm trying to say I think.”

Stark flicked a crumb at Godfrey, “Oh really now? I would throw the idea that those with the brains and those with the power make the decisions but it seems you think you can fall into those categories.”[/b] Of course she was teasing as she finished off her tea and another cookie.

“Well, of course. I:m both the smartest and the most powerful person around here,” he said, and stretched. “Nobody is smarter than me, ever, anywhere in the world. And the smartest are the most powerful. And the most powerful get to make the rules, no? So the only rule I made is that I get to make the rules. You can be my Chief Baking Advisor.”

The last of the concoction finished distilling, and he decanted it out. All in all, he had eight doses of the adrenaline-boosting, prescience-granting concoction ready for the next incident that would go down.

“You’ll be in charge of making sure nobody has a cookie deficiency in the realm. Think you are up for the task, Chief Baking Advisor?”

Stark couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. ”You got it boss!” she cheerfully stated back just before a yawn began to creep up on her.

”How about we start in the morning okay boss? I think it's time for rest.” she offered as she closed her tin of cookies and wiggled into her little sleeping area. ”Don't stay up too late boss. We still have to travel.” 

“Tomorrow it is, chief. Get some sleep, I’ll clean this stuff up and follow suit.” As she settled down, he busied himself with washing up the pieces of glassware and putting them away on the cart, before unlatching one of the sides of the cart, which laid out flat just large enough to sleep on, providing he didn’t kick around too much. What happened in the morning would have to wait until the morning-- after today, he was tired too. He rolled onto the surface, and wrapped himself up in his jacket.

[b]Around the fire[/b]

Just when Dalious had accepted the fact that he killed so many people in his past, he had to come across and kill four more innocents. They tried to kill him, so he felt justified. However, it was after the matter that he found out they were under some magic. Maybe had he known prior, he might of tried to just knock them out, and the thought of it was eating away at him. He tried to shake it from his mind, drinking more rum to cool his nerves.

Pulling off his leather armor and placing it on the ground, he grabbed one of his canteens and a rag, then started to clean the blood from the sigil carved at the center. He cleaned it even after the mess was gone, trying to keep himself busy until weariness drew over him. Looking to his right, he realized he was sitting next to Diane. While others seemed to avoid her, mainly for her wrath, he decided to give it a shot. He felt a bit of sympathy for the woman after all that had happened lately, and wanted to ease her evening if even slightly.

"Would you like me to clean the mud off of your clothing for you?" he asked. "...I mean, not while you're wearing it of course. Or, not that I mean for you to get naked...I, well you would have to get naked, but...I mean, assuming you could change into something else. Behind a tree or something, I wouldn't look at your nude body...not, not that you don't have a nice body. I would look at your nude body, umm...not without consent, of course..." He realized he was digging the hole deeper, so he turned his attention to the meat cooking over the fire. "Is that done yet!?"

At first, Diane didn't even look over to the pirate, focused entirely upon the fire in front of her as she continued to stew in her own anger. However, as he began to speak and kept at it, embarrassing himself further and further, she began to slowly turn her head towards him. Her expression had settled into something that wasn't quite anger or indifference, but something in between; a cold sort of irritation that seemed unusual for Diane, who was known to be quick to hit things.

When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm, all things considered. "No, thank you. I'm not so desperate yet that I need my possessions pawed and myself ogled yet. Perhaps if you had any sense, maybe, but considering that you asked the question at all that clearly isn't the case." Suddenly she stood, picking up her bedroll and dragging it away with her.

Across the fire, Kisarin couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He had finished cleaning his blade by that point, the massive hunk of metal standing where it was stabbed into the ground, and it was he who was cooking the meat. Just a little while before Sampson had slipped into the camp proper with a few dead rabbits, and in a matter of moments Kisarin had them skinned and placed over the fire.

"Didn't go too well, did it my friend?" He shrugged, looking back down to the rabbits. "Give it a couple of minutes and these should be ready, at least. Consolation prize."

Dalious sat next to the fire, watching Diane leave from sight. Everything they said about her was true. He let out a huff, then carefully sniffed at his canteen filled with rum. "That normally isn't how it goes with the ladies, I swear!" he said as if he were defeated in combat. "Someone's tainted my rum." He said with a silent point towards Stark's direction. Drinking liquor while riding a horse all day gave the pirate a steady buzz for the night, along with the muscle cramps to go along with it. "I should have heeded the warnings that are spoken about her. Avoid eye contact, best for everyone."

Dalious shifted his sense of smell toward the preparing food, and it brought a smirk to his face. He almost lost thought as he stared deeply into the crackling fire. It was a soothing method of keeping his mind empty. "Kisarin, I remember you. Heh, from when I was...much younger." Dalious took another swig from his drink and hiccuped. "I was a part of a bad group back then, your men wiped us out. I hid and watched, and I thank you for it. I can now finally see, they were evil men. I almost was. Now we fight together. Funny how things turn out. Anyway, I'll take mine rare, if you don't mind."

With more than just a little amount of interest, the Chieftain listened to what the pirate had to say. The more he spoke, the more a vague sense of recollection began to dawn upon Kisarin's face, memories of long ago coming back somewhat, but not completely; Kisarin was content with them not coming back all the way, and said as much with the following:

"I see, my friend. Well, the past is the past, after all. You survived, and you learned from it. There's no shame in that. Let bygones be bygones, so that we can focus on what's happening now..." Briefly, Kisarin went quiet, a black mood coming over his face, before he shook his head. "Rare it is then, my friend. Now that is a real kind of meat."

With that, he tossed one of the rabbits over.

"Cheers, mate."

[b]Kyora[/b]

They left early in the morning, and didn't stop again until they saw the massive, sparkling jewel that was Kyora came into sight. Even Cyril, who had never seen the city-state before, was taken back by the sight, and simply amazed... but the reality of the situation soon set in, and he was the one who pushed them back forward, towards the gates.

At first, they were treated like any other of those clamoring to get into the city... But then Cyril's crown was noticed, as were the Barcean sigils, and in some cases their weapons. The crowd parted for them quite quickly, so that only the guards stood between them and the city streets. Judging from their stances, they seemed to be prepared to stop them, and Cyril tensed, getting ready himself for what might be coming...

But then, quite suddenly, the guard line seemed to melt away, a captain waving them off suddenly. At first, Cyril couldn't tell why, but as the captain stepped out of the way as well he saw Joachim standing there, waiting, and slipping a small money purse back out of sight into his robes. Cyril held back the sigh of relief that wanted to escape, pleased that the Wanderer had been waiting for them; he had no idea how he was going to find Joachim easily in such a large, unfamiliar city.

The group moved forwards, and the Wanderer fell into step beside the King. He also immediately began to speak:

"He is pleased to see all of you made it. He expected some to remain behind, but he is surprised at those who did..."

Cyril glanced back, blinked, and then looked back to Joachim. "Wait, everyone should already be here. A group left with Christopher before we did. They didn't arrive?"

Joachim frowned, and shook his head slightly. "No... perhaps they ran into trouble along the way. There is nothing we can do now, only have faith that they will make it on time..."

The King was silent for a moment, and then said, "There was another problem as well, that we ran into. I'll tell you when we reach.... Where are we heading, exactly?"

Joachim gave a slightly rueful smile. A few minutes later, and they were at the Hermit's Abode, and the King felt some of the first doubt about Joachim he had in this whole affair:

There was no way they were all going to fit inside.

And yet, somehow they did, settling down either in rooms or at tables. Cyril and Joachim found one booth for themselves, and in a matter of moments the King had told the Wanderer what had happened on their travels. Joachim paled, and slowly brought both hands to his head, hunching over slightly.

"He was afraid something like this would be the case. It was Yaguar who slayed the God King Mazami, and when it happened there was... a transference, of some sort. It was only a matter of time before those abilities manifested themselves..." He shook his head slowly. "It is good to know, beforehand. We'll be able to prepare for it."

Slowly, the Wanderer exhaled, and looked up to Cyril after he lowered his hands. "There is something about this place. It is where his Master-"

Up above, a door slammed.

Joachim swallowed. "His Master, who is the Master, currently resides. And he is being difficult for him, as in this one."

The shock of the presence of a Divine wore off more quickly than Cyril would have expected; then again, they had already met one before. "What do you mean-?"

"You didn't tell me the King would be bringing his entire kingdom along with him." The voice boomed across the room, which fell silent. Slowly, the Master walked his way across the room, and stopped next to the King and Wanderer. The King quickly bowed his head, but the Master merely snorted, saying, "Whatever, let's get this over with. If I get what I expect, then I get to kick you out that much sooner. You, King. You realize that your current problem is more than just a little the fault of the idiot who is sitting in front of you, don't you? Then why do you come to help him?"

Cyril blinked rapidly, surprised, and slowly looked up to the Master. For a moment he was quiet, and then, "I do not blame Joachim for the failings of his previous companions. I consider him one of us now, though, and that means we will help him in his time of need, no matter what the reason. Even if Yaguar wasn't threatening the East as we knew it, I would still stand with him now. He wants to resolve this quickly, and with the least amount of bloodshed. I admire that in him."

"The least amount of bloodshed-?!" Suddenly, the Master's hand shot down, and Joachim squawked as he was lifted. There was a brief struggle, before the Wanderer was thrown back down into the seat harshly, and the package that was now in the Master's hands was ripped open by the Divine.

From it fell a surprising amount of weapons, which had been packed tightly together. Two sickles connected by chains were the first to clatter onto the wood, and they were followed by several wicked looking throwing knives. Next came a double bladed dagger, followed by yet another with a prong. A folded spear clattered down, and then finally a chain with both weight and hooked blade fell.

"Those are not normal weapons, King. They are made for maiming and crippling and killing. For shedding blood."

Slowly, the King looked up, but not at the Master; instead, he looked to Joachim, who seemed embarrassed, ashamed, and yet still resolved, meeting the King's gaze with only a little hesitance. For a moment, Cyril was quiet, and then he said, "I think Joachim gathered those with the best intentions. He thought he would be fighting by himself, and was preparing for the worst sort of fight. We're here now, though. He doesn't need those."

Silence reigned for just a few moments... And then the Master scoffed, turning and dropping the torn package carelessly. "Fools, the lot of you. Fine then!" Joachim went rigid at the last two words, which had been barked out like orders. The Master looked over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, I whip you back into shape, boy. Be ready, and hopefully you'll be fast enough to make it back in time to help your friends, before Yaguar gets bored. Be up before dawn."

Without saying anything else, the Master left. For a moment more silence returned, and then Joachim slowly exhaled, bowing his head. "He thanks you, King Serio... And he apologizes."

Cyril shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Joachim. You did what you thought you had to do. Now, you can adjust."