---

After the Kirins set about getting their scrapes and bruises patched up, between Cid, Miina, and Eos, they had put to getting their camp pitched for the night. Even being so close to Brightlam, none of them wanted to try and sneak their way in after the rest of the day’s effort. For his part, Esben had excused himself from the set-up rather quickly after managing to trade a favor with Rudolf to get out of the work...

Leaving him time to peruse his journal, and the two marked pages within. One with a contract that had been finished and signed in his own blood, the other with a charred mark upon it. He didn’t know the language that the first contract had been written in, only that he evidently didn’t need to know it for the summoning magic to work itself through him. No doubt, the addition of Ramuh to it would be similar.

If there was one thing that suited him to his job, however, it was that Esben didn’t like not knowing important things. If it involved him, he absolutely detested it.

He stood, long strides quickly carrying him to where Cid and Ramuh were in the middle of some inscrutable discussion that he likely didn’t have the theological basis to add much to—but that didn’t dissuade him from stepping up and interrupting them.

”Cid. Ramuh. May I have some of your time?” He held up the journal, with the two pages next to each other that encompassed the sum total of his summoning contracts. ”I’d rather like to actually get some idea of how this all works before I start trying to figure how I can incorporate it into our plans going forward.”

”Ah, Esben.” Cid greeted the SEED with a smile upon his face, his eyes flickering down to the journal with an expression of pleased surprise. ”Oh? I’d not taken you for a summoner. Had Eve remained with you, that would most likely have fallen to her. But let’s see what else you have here besides Ramuh…ah, two fae! The ones you summoned during the trial, yes?”

”Yes. Somehow, I doubt Eve would have had the patience for Eos and Selene.”

His gaze turned back to Esben once more, gesturing for him to join the sage in sitting down upon the grass.

”Ask away. In this subject, I am an open book.”

Two steps further, and he sank cross-legged to the ground. He wasn’t terribly surprised that the Eidolon deigned to let Cid do all the talking. ”Simply put, I don’t know where to start asking. I don’t know how those two managed it, but I’m able to summon them without issue reading from a page that isn’t written in anything I recognize. I don’t rightly know how the use of aether even functions, as I’ve not been around enough mages before now, nor had the time even now, to ask, and when it comes to potentially calling in him—”

He nodded at the form of the Eidolon next to them.

”I’d rather not risk burning myself out in an instant if I thought calling on him could be a good idea.”

”Fortunate indeed for you that the summoning art is far less magically technical than the magicks of white or black. So long as you are aware of how to channel your aether, you may summon forth Eidolons. Of course, as you are, I would not expect to be able to channel one of Ramuh’s might for much more than a singular blow at a time. Though with the greater spirits, one such strike at the opportune time may be all that is required.” The old man said, a twinkle in his eye.

”If you are not able to access the flow of your aether in even some minute fashion, I express a measure of surprise. Materia draws upon such, as do warriors when they empower their strikes.”

”I’m from Skael, remember? We invented the Materia machines because we’re too...how would the Grovmasters put it? Divorced from our natural world.” At least they knew, now, that they couldn’t rightly blame Skael for the Blight. ”But if that is the nature of things, that’s simple enough. I don’t want to play around with things I don’t understand, and I doubt that either of the fairies could give me a good explanation.”

If it was as simple as channelling the minute aether he had with a focus on the target of the summoning, then that was a workable enough explanation. If he didn’t have to risk his own wellbeing in the process, all the better. He snapped his journal shut, placing it back within one of the pockets of his cloak. ”I’ll just have to trust that Ramuh isn’t as hungry for my aether as Eos seems to be. On to matters of planning, then.”

He pointed at Ramuh once again.

”I imagine that the Eidolons may not command quite the same position of respect within the modern church as they had in ages past, but it seems to me like Isolde’s actions—feeding us a poisoned ritual and wilfully dispelling Leviathan’s own manifestation—go beyond that into callous disregard. If either of you had to hazard a guess, would you expect similar of Alambert or Zacharias?”

At the mention of the other Grovemasters, Cid’s face fell, giving a deep sigh.

”Alambert, I cannot speak for. He is a relative unknown to me. As for Zacharias…” A hand came up to his head, the old sage rubbing his temple. ”As a much younger man, he sought my guidance for a time early on within his time with the Cathedral in Brightlam. While I regret the path he has taken, I believe he is not completely lost to reason. His fears have simply overtaken his hopes.” He stayed silent for several moments, reflecting on times long past before speaking once more.

”Regarding your plans…I believe I can aid you all in this regard. Both the Cathedral and Brightlam’s council chambers are holy ground. I trust you understand what I intend by this?”

”We need to get ourselves in there first,” Esben replied. ”Which is where I’m planning to focus on Zacharias first. Knowing that he came to you for guidance at one point only reinforces my view that, despite his apparent vitriol, he may be the one to focus on for our goals. With him on our side, we may have some luck swaying Alambert—just as Isolde thought that, should we accede to her demands, she might sway him to our side.”

The disdain with which he held her and her plans was more than evident.

”I should think, for a place that prides itself on its connection to nature and the spirits, and considering Zacharias as likely the most conservative of the council, that between the fairies, Ramuh, yourself, and even Leviathan if it should come to it, he may be swayed to vouch for us. He was the only one who actually seemed shocked when we mentioned your name. We were all hopeful to have an authority to trust after Osprey, so we weren’t nearly as careful with Isolde and her immediate vouching for us as we should have been. Given the disregard she showed to Leviathan and Ifrit, and her refusal to listen to anything we said after you blinked yourself out of that mess, I doubt there was anything genuine behind anything she said—except that, maybe, she does think you’re some sort of demon.”

Cid nodded at Esben’s words, taking some time to consider.

”Yes, your assessment of the situation lines up quite nicely with mine, lad. Isolde’s disregard for the Eidolons lines up with a heterodox faction of the Cathedral’s beliefs: the Mothercrystal above all, and even the other gods proper are not immune to this. In contrast, the major Eidolons tend to be viewed as not being worthy of proper worship in this regard. I am known to the upper echelons of Brightlam’s Cathedral, being that they have some of the largest congregations of the faith in the land, though I am unsure of where this suspicion of myself came from. It is not completely unheard of to be suspicious of a centuries-old man, though I should hope that I have proven myself worthy of some small measure of trust with my deeds in Etro’s service over the years.”

Another sigh, before he fished out a small crystal of light, handing it over to Esben.

”When you have Zacharias, if you should be upon holy ground, raise this crystal aloft, and I will know its radiance and come.”

He took the crystal from Cid’s grip, turning it over in his fingers as he looked it over. ”You do understand,” he started slowly, glancing sidelong at the older man, ”That if we can’t get any of them to agree with us, we’ll have to take more drastic measures? I don’t know that we’ll have any recourse for Isolde, not to mention that I’m somewhat convinced she’s in knowing or unknowing league with Valheim as it is—but Alambert and Zacharias too.”

”I understand.” Cid’s expression turned grave, his tone deliberately calm. ”I mislike it, but you are correct. Do what you must, though I would implore that you do not compromise your morality and soul if you do not have to. Spy and cutthroat you may be, but even the worst of us are still human in the end.”

Satisfied with the crystal, he slid it into one of his hidden pockets. Unsatisfied with Cid’s misgivings—and with being called a cutthroat at that—he pushed on. ”I’ve managed to make sure that the others will try things the quieter way, for now, but if the need comes to it, Drana Asnaeu’s stability is secondary to the greater goal. Will you be able to point us in the right direction to reach their crystal, if so? I don’t want us stumbling around completely in the dark, and interrogations can get messier than we need to deal with, doubly so if the same ones we need to interrogate are the ones we need to assassinate.”

”The physical locations of the crystals are unknown to me. Once, I was able to simply teleport myself to them, but that avenue is closed now. The darkness encroaching upon the land has caused Etro’s light to dim from more and more holy sites, with the Four being among them. The crystal you bear will call me when you reach them, however.” He paused, a hand reaching up to stroke his beard as he thought.

”I can, however, give you an educated guess. I know for a fact that the Crystal of Water is underground, at the very least. Considering the holy sites within Brightlam and the nature of the council’s predecessors, I have reason enough to believe that the Crystal will be within the city. That leaves two likely locations it is buried under: Brightlam Cathedral, or the giant tree containing the council chambers. Of course, you understand that it will be even odds should you attempt to hazard a guess.”

”That’s workable,” Esben replied with a nod. ”Better than we’d have otherwise.”

He fell silent again, watching as Rudolf walked off with Izayoi. No doubt trying to figure out another of her tricks for himself. The others were mostly done setting up their minimal camp, short of gathering firewood. Before too long they’d all be reconvening for dinner, which would cut the conversation with Cid to an end.

”One last thing, then.” With the talk of summoning and Eidolons, and a faction within the church that cared little for such powerful creations and emissaries of the gods, and knowing just how many of their party they had lost since arriving in Drana Asnaeu, there was one topic that he couldn’t just leave untouched. ”Your good health is unsurprising. I trust Eve is doing well after what Isolde pulled?”

”Well enough.” Cid replied amicably, a smile returning to his face at the mention of Eve. ”The shock to her was less than it was to mine own self, and she has recovered apace. Bahamut’s power flows through her, and I had set her to attempt communion with the Dreadwyrm when I left to aid Ramuh. Do you have any tokens or such you would like me to bring to her?”

”Ah, not right now, unless you want to be mean and let her know she missed Elly’s pastries leaving so suddenly. Maybe another time.”

Some time after concluding with training Rudolf for the day, Izayoi could be found preparing the party’s nightly meal, sitting with Goug while stirring a cookpot over the fire. Dinner for tonight seemed to be some sort of meat stew, with root vegetables being added in.

As Chisato approached, Goug looked up with a wave.

”Oi, new girl! Dinner’s nearly finished, kupo. Just take a seat and wait, will you?”

---

—It’s strange.

I knew before coming here that she was alive. I’d been told beforehand. So it’s not necessarily that her appearance here is surprising to me, anymore, even as I approach to sit down and await a meal.

But it’s strange.

Ranbu no Izayoi’s death had seemed so certain until only recently.

She clearly wasn’t some form of spectre or phantom, stirring the pot over the fire like that. She was certainly no imposter, I knew that much.

So exactly how is it that she is standing here, living and breathing, before my eyes?

---

One look at Chisato was all Izayoi needed to know.

”You have questions.” The older woman sighed as she sprinkled a measure of salt into the stew. ”Ask, then. Though I could infer the first.”

”Oh kupo, this is going to get heavy, isn’t it?” Goug murmured, sliding off the log he was sitting on. ”Should I…” He jerked a thumb behind him, gesturing as if he was to leave.

”Yes.”

Goug didn’t need any more confirmation, flapping his wings away back towards the rest of the camp.

---

She noticed.

I don’t think I wanted her to. Even if I have questions, it’s not necessary to have them answered immediately. Provided we can both operate in achieving our goals without these answers, there is not any need to rush.

I’m not really prepared to ask them.

I really should have expected someone like Ranbu no Izayoi noticing how I was looking.

I take a deep breath.

“How are you alive?”

There’s no need to be anything less than direct.

---

”Through no intention of my own.” Izayoi replied glibly, sampling a small sip of the bubbling stew with her ladle as she frowned. Hm. It needed pepper. And perhaps a touch more salt.

”When I made my stand at the border, I had no illusions of surviving the battle. But the Edrenians were in too great a hurry to rush for the capital to confirm my death. I was left crumpled at the foot of the mountain, slowly dying. A local healer from the nearby village came across me. He saved my life, involuntary though it was.”

Ah, there it was. Izayoi found the black pepper in the cooking supplies, taking care to add a generous measure to the pot, along with another few dashes of salt.

”When I came to, I believed that there would be no more use for a defeated general. I had failed the nation and the Emperor. And I had grown tired of leading my countrymen to their deaths. Of massacring soldiers that could rightfully still be called boys, not men. So I allowed the outside world to believe that I was dead. That healer? We wed. I bore him a child. And so I laid down my sword for five years, until Valheim destroyed that village.”

She lifted her gaze back up in Chisato’s direction, waiting to determine the shinobi’s response.

”Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

---

“...”

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had figured, perhaps, that she’d managed to cling to life. But I hadn’t known how. The fact a healer had met her explained it, somewhat… But the fact she laid down her sword for so long was—

It doesn’t make sense. I can’t wrap my brain around it. Ranbu no Izayoi settling down, after everything she had done? Her reasons—

She had used our services, hadn’t she? Did the age of combatants matter to her all along, and she hadn’t shown it at the height of the war?

If she’d been able to fight that whole time, couldn’t it possibly, maybe—

No.

I cut myself off from those thoughts.

I cannot think like that. There’s no need to think like that.

I must remain focused on the mission without any other reservations or concerns.

“I… I see.”

I nod slowly, quietly to myself, trying to push any other questions from my mind.

But they continue to fight their way to the surface. There’s no need. And yet—

“... If you had—”

My words die. I kill them dead on my lips.

Such a question helps nothing.

Begrudging her choice to lay down her sword helps nothing.

---

Izayoi sighed at Chisato’s response. She shouldn’t have expected anything else from the girl. That was the problem with the godsdamned Asakura shinobi. Fantastic at what they did, but they’d sacrificed every aspect of their humanity in the process. Even more than Izayoi had.

”If I had…?” She began slowly, already knowing what the girl was trying to ask.

”If I had retained my strength? I consider that question on a daily basis, girl. At the very least, there would have been some people I’d manage to save from Valheim in that case.” She closed her eyes, letting the stew simmer for the moment.

”I do not regret starting a family. I do not believe I ever will. All I do regret is thinking there was no more need for my sword. If you wish to condemn me for my choices, then so be it. I do so every time I remember my husband and daughter dead at Valheimr hands.”

---

She hadn’t said as much until now, but the mere fact she was here made it obvious that her family no longer lived.

The fact that Valheim had destroyed the village, alone…

I open my mouth, and softly, silently, shut it.

Her husband and daughter, dead.

If she’d retained her strength, couldn’t she have protected them? Wouldn’t that have been right, rather than letting her—

If I’d sacrificed myself, maybe the others would still be—

…

I find my gaze has drifted downwards. My fingers slowly tightening at my clothing, unconsciously.

There was no need to think of that, was there? Doing so would only distract me. This whole line of questioning would only pull my mind further from my duties.

This mission is far more important than anything else.

“Almost all of the others are dead.”

And yet, those words leave my lips all the same.

There was no need to share that information. There was no need to tell her.

But I said it anyway.

It’s foolish, isn’t it?

It has to be.

---

The Asakura clan, all but wiped out? Izayoi took a slow breath at that, marshaling her thoughts. For shinobi, that sort of casualty rate couldn’t even be called catastrophic: it was nothing short of apocalyptic. And as for Chisato…

The poor girl. Izayoi knew her temperament. To even admit that was tantamount to a breakdown for someone that hadn’t trained in the Asakura’s ways. Sympathy welled up in the samurai’s chest as she rose, slowly walking over to where the viera sat. A hand rose to rest on the girl’s shoulder, squeezing lightly.

”I know very well how little condolences are worth, but you have mine nonetheless. Valheim’s debt of blood will be paid one day.” She murmured softly, very carefully not asking what happened. The girl would tell her on her own time. ”How have you chosen to proceed from here, then? Will you return to your duty, or seek vengeance in their memory?”

---

—It’s unnecessary. She doesn’t need to tell me these things. I know that mission was a failure. I know that everything went wrong. I know that I could have done something different.

But my entire generation was either dead or crippled, now. That was the reality of the situation. So the answer is obvious from the very beginning.

“I have to fulfill my duty,” I reply. I won’t allow myself even a moment to falter. I cannot. Those tears only distracted me, “The only other remaining shinobi of my generation are unable to fight any longer, so there is no longer anyone else who can carry it out.”

I have to bear the weight of my generation. Sensei cannot carry out these duties. Lord Asakura-sama cannot. They are preoccupied elsewhere. The previous generation’s numbers are low now, too.

And maybe, while carrying out my duty, I’ll be able to—

“For the sake of all the remaining Asakura, that is my purpose.”

---

”Very well. Fortunate for you that accompanying us will allow you to engage in both, regardless. Our path is inevitably crossed with Valheim’s, despite the fact that they’ve not accosted us since we’ve stepped foot within this land.” Izayoi returned to minding the cookpot, stirring it lightly.

”The Edreni. Will they be a problem for you? The dragoon leads us, as I’ve no wish to do so, myself.”

---

Ranbu no Izayoi’s question pulls my mind away from recollection of that day.

The Edreni—

Edreni men can lead. I know that much. That doesn’t mean that I appreciate it, but they can lead.

That does not mean I trust them on an individual basis to do so, however.

“They will be fools, to me, until they prove otherwise. That is the state of all Edreni men.”

I fold my arms across my chest with a small nod.

“But as he has led so far, I will wait and see how he conducts himself.”

The dragoon doesn’t seem like an idiot, despite being an Edreni man, so at the very least I can afford to judge him more harshly over time rather than immediately.

Should he prove to be foolish, I will have plenty of complaints.

---

A nod. Both an expected answer, and one Izayoi wasn’t going to contest. As much as she would never admit it out loud, her hostility towards Galahad had dropped sharply in the past few weeks. Well, ever since the revelation about his brother, really. And Rudolf never earned her ire for anything aside from his background to begin with. That didn’t mean she didn’t still hate Edren, but personal allegiances were different.

The stew seemed about ready, and Izayoi rose to grab the bowls Goug had left.

”Dinner will be served shortly.” She took a bowl and ladled up a bowl of thick stew, piled high with meat and root vegetables, handing it along with a spoon to Chisato.

”Eat. The fact that your size has remained the same after five years tells me that you could do with a more substantive diet.”

---

“...”

I’m not about to pass up food when it is offered, but… I need far less than this to remain nourished. I have plenty of riceballs packed, this clearly isn’t necessary, is it? Any shinobi worth their salt can survive on a single riceball per day.

Not that I should never eat more than that, but when we’re in the process of travelling, is this necessary?

I regard the stew for a few moments. It seems… very heavy. Not bad, but certainly a very heavy meal. Is it good for traveling? Perhaps it is, but—

I sternly interrogate the meat and vegetables with my eyes.

“It is… a lot,” I finally respond, placing the spoon slowly to the stew after a few moments. It’s not as if I can reject it…

---

”As I intended, yes.” Izayoi folded her arms as she sat back down, her stare unwavering.

”I am more than aware that you shinobi can survive on far less. In a situation of desperation. This is not one of those. As such, it would benefit everyone involved were you properly nourished.” She said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. Gods above, was this a conversation that would have happened in a better time? If Suzume had turned out to be a picky eater? Or any other potential children?

Her expression darkened at the thought before forcing it down into the recesses of her mind. No going down that direction. It led to nothing but pain. Instead, Izayoi focused back on the present, her eyes narrowing at Chisato.

”Consider this a direct order. Eat your dinner, and cease complaining that you’re fed more than a bowl of rice.” Or else she’d shove it down the girl’s throat.

---

“... Very… very well…”

Does she really need to waste these resources on me…?

I raise the spoon to my lips, a fragment of carrot and a chunk of beef sitting in the dark broth, and take a bite—

Ah.

The beef is very tender. It’s simple, but well-seasoned. The carrot adds another layer of texture to the meal, breaking up the heaviness and fattiness of the broth and the meat and increasing its depth despite utilizing simple ingredients. The broth is smooth and rich, complimenting the texture of the beef and the carrot(and presumably the other vegetables) excellently.

It requires a certain level of dedication to prepare food with so little available and make it truly flavorful and delicious.

Ranbu no Izayoi did not have complex cookery on hand, and yet she has still accomplished this much—

I lower the spoon back into the bowl.

It’s not as if I’ll reject food, after all.

---

At the very least, the girl enjoyed the food. Good. It seemed she hadn’t lost her touch after more than a few months away from a cookpot, even working with less than familiar materials. Izayoi puffed up slightly in satisfaction with that.

”Better.” She said, folding her arms. ”You’ll be fed the same as any other member of the party whilst you remain with us, so do try not to protest against eating again.” A gesture brought Goug back over, the moogle sniffing the air briefly.

”Food’s ready, kupo?” At Izayoi’s nod, he sped off to gather the rest of the Kirins up for dinner. In the meanwhile, Izayoi looked back over to Chisato, her expression softening somewhat.

”If you’ve no further questions…?”

---

I place the spoon back down again.

‘No further questions’?

Maybe it would be untrue to say yes. There’s a great many things that I could ask about, I’m certain, if I put my mind to it for a few moments. Questions about the others, about how they came together. I knew in broad strokes how the current Kirins had formed, but only insofar as I was told for the sake of my mission.

There’s plenty of details I could seek. I could even ask if there’s a chance we would mee—

No.

It’s not necessary. Not a single question is necessary, not really. Unless it’s required for me to fulfill my duty, I don’t need to ask about anything at all.

That’s how it should be. That’s how I should operate. It’s better for everyone involved if I focus on my mission, as anything else could simply get in the way.

If something gets in the way, I’m not operating at my fullest extent.

I nod, slowly.

I don’t have any more questions.

---

---

Later on that evening, it was an unusual form that came shuffling over to where Skael’s proudest representative sat, someone who had more or less never forged occasion to speak beyond..,

“Hey. Any chance you’ve got a pot going already? I could use something to take the edge off. Getting worn down.”

Well, that. That was usually the long and short of it.

As greetings went, it was casual enough, a beleaguered wave of one raised hand following the hail and a summary halt upon his slow gait. It served well to contrast the wear and tear he spoke of, painted across his frame— electrical burns across the skin and wild spikes of his pale hair, worse than he’d left their most recent trial with. There was an air of ozone about him, which when mixed with the shadows hugging his person more closely than normal, almost gave a “freshly charred” impression.

Rudolf had evidently been put through the ringer, during whatever he’d been up to once they had earned their night’s rest. Even so, there was another reason to bridge the gap that had sort of gone unaddressed, this time.

“Also, a favor, if you could hear me out.”

As Rudolf approached, Eliane was seated with her uniform jacket off and a needle and thread in her hands. She was repairing a torn stitch from their last battle as she rethreaded the fabric. By her side was indeed a full thermos of coffee, still piping hot. Looking up at the sound of footsteps, the pink-haired girl cocked an eyebrow at Rudolf’s state.

“You look like shit,” she commented, stating the obvious before she slid her caffeinated thermos in his direction. “Is this favor related to…” she made a hand gesture, encompassing the entirety of the man’s ragged state.

“No,” he shook his head, before plopping down at her side and accepting the offered thermos with a tilt of the head and a quick “Appreciate it.”

He took a measured sip, refusing to be greedy. As road coffee went, enthusiasm like hers no doubt beget quality— nowhere near the best brew he’d had in his life, but nonetheless hard to beat, for what the circumstances were. He’d had it impressed upon him early that no matter what you held dear in matters of taste, you needed to respect coffee that still got the job done. Not everything needed to be a damned artpiece.

Nodding, he slid it back over and continued.

“At least, not exactly. I was wondering if you’d be willing to get me up to speed on handling firearms. Considering how often we run into Valheimr that use them and how short I am on distance options besides… y’know.”

With his other hand he turned his palm upward and wiggled the fingers towards the sky, mimicking flame.

“I figure being more familiar with anything I might be picking up in a pinch can’t hurt. Hardly a more qualified teacher than you around.”

Eliane, of course, prided herself on being able to make a great brew wherever she was. Although she was not privy to Rudolf’s thoughts, they no doubt would have been a great complement. Tying off the end of a string of thread, she secured her stitching as she finished the repair. Holding the fabric outwards with a judging stare, Eliane nodded in satisfaction before slipping the jacket back onto herself and stowing her sewing kit away before accepting the returned thermos.

“Hmm, a crash-course on small arms, then?” The pink-haired officer gave Rudolf a critical look for just a moment, she shrugged and nodded. “Sure, I can do that. You’ve definitely come to the right person,” she boasted, before standing up and giving him a somewhat pointed look. “Is it just a practical understanding you’re looking for, or are you looking to truly understand how firearms actually work as well?”

“The latter.”

His reply was all but immediate, unflinchingly meeting the look she gave with a nod. After multiple hours of having bolts of lightning thrown at you, even Eliane’s intense personality seemed something of a reprieve. He continued on, rolling stiffness out of his wrist. “I’ve been taught to seek as thorough an understanding as I can. Everything’s got a structure. If I know how a gun works, I know how to attack it better when the enemy uses one, right?”

Pretty fundamental logic. Every good strategy worked this way at some scale— and atop that, he’d already seen his share of the subject material in action. Enough to glean basics like the trigger mechanism loosed the shot, the aiming seemed somewhat similar to a crossbow, what impact the bullets imparted, and so on.

Taking the more thorough option would serve to shore up the gaps much better.

Eliane readily accepted that answer, giving an approving nod back. She would hardly turn down an opportunity to expound on the particulars of firearms, after all. “You’re right. In fact, I was going to clean my weapons after finishing with this, so now’s a good time as ever!”

Standing up, she began to gather her belongings even as she continued. “Between my gunblade, rifle, and the lovely autocannon that we picked up, the guns I have are a fairly good representation of most of the mechanisms you’ll encounter on the field. You’ll get a far better appreciation for how to fire, aim, and how to respond when being attacked by most firearms by seeing how they work under the hood.”

With her stuff gathered, she marched on towards where she was temporarily keeping the autocannon and her rifle– her gunblade, of course, still strapped to her belt. While her stride was imperious, she did glance back to see if Rudolf was following. “So what happened, anyway? I don’t remember you looking nearly that bad after the last fight. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t get knocked on the head.”

“I’d usually scamper off to get Eos or Miina to patch me up a lot sooner than this,” he hedged, half-joking as he offered a shrug. He was, of course, keeping pace— for all the autocannon had melded into the general ensemble of the Kirins’ supporting cast, it still was prodigiously hard to miss. No prizes for guessing where they were headed. “But no, you’re not seeing things. You remember the midpoint of the battle? Adrammelech calling that big Thundaga down to where I was before Izayoi caught it on her sword and redirected it?”

Subconsciously, his hands floated through the air as he described it, reaching high before swinging down with a pantomime blade. Still trying to grasp the rhythm.

“I badgered her into teaching me how. She’s the ‘five minutes on theory, five hours on practice’ type of instructor, it turns out—“ he smirked, tone flippant through the explanation. It probably wasn’t a full five hours, but a little artful exaggeration was in order after how long it had felt bearing the brunt of the shocks. “This sorry state I’m in is the fruits of my labor.”

It didn’t last as they drew upon her little armory at the side of camp.

“With Arton gone, I’m more or less the next best suited to be holding down the front line, fielding the bigger hits. Gotta learn all the tricks to keep myself standing while I have time.”

He was never a particularly large-statured person, but even then, he seemed to shrink a little. For a moment, he looked small, then…

“So. Where do we start, Professor?”

He dropped to a knee, eyes fixed onto the tools of the trade before him, ready to absorb as much as he could handle.

“About what I expect from her,” Eliane nodded, with a slight upwards curve to her lips. While she was hardly as stern as Izayoi, her training methods weren’t entirely dissimilar from the swordswoman. The Skaelan might put a little more savviness or accommodation, but in the end she agreed with that sort of practice. “Reminds me of when I trained up my teams back at home,” she chuckled, with fond memories in her mind.
That was right. She was a leader in her guard force.

“Were you successful?” she asked as they stopped in front of her now familiar weapon.

“Not as thoroughly as I’d like.” he replied, gaze sliding from the rifle to the mounted cannon. “Getting there, but I’m having to take shortcuts too often to deal with realistic mana amounts.”

“Eager aren’t you? We’ll get to the rotary gun last. It’s the most complex, after all.” Instead, she unholstered her gunblade, pointing it downwards as she popped open the cylinder chamber. There were still six bullets in each hole. In front of Rudolf, she flipped the gun over, emptying its contents into the palm of her hand before handing over the weapon to him. “Well! Let’s start with what you do know, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Flexing his singed fingers, Rudolf gingerly took the hilt and blade into his palms, eyes scanning the length of the almost-right edge of steel. Well-kept as any of her sister firearms, naturally, the temper and alignment seemed good. Lighter than he expected as he closed his hands around the pommel, given there was a whole firing mechanism built into the crossguard and ricasso…

Almost unconsciously, he settled back into a fighting stance, rear hand floating near the hip as he slowly carved through the air, clicking the cylinder back into place with a flick of the wrist. It was different from the saber form factor it resembled, he could feel it, but for something that was effectively smashing two radically different weapons into one another, the balance was impressive. He’d held plenty of pure swords that were less finely-crafted, by his arm’s measure.

All this being true, he glanced over to her after settling back to a neutral base, flicking the chamber back open, well aware that judging the thing as a sword ran almost directly counter to what they’d set out to discuss. He began to rattle off what he remembered.

“Well, regarding Gunblades, I had the privilege of sharing some jobs with SEEDs on mercenary work a little after the Blight got real bad in Edren. From what I remember.. Basic premise of it’s that the cylinder stores cartridges which, when you depress the trigger mechanism mid-swing, let you utilize the explosive force to amplify cutting power, or change the arc of your strike, as the shock travels up the length of the blade. I’ve heard certain models skew more heavily towards the rifle end of the angle than it feels like yours does— that there’s a bit of a range between focusing on the ‘gun’ or ‘blade’ aspect.”

He held the gunblade out, towards the trees rather than camp, and let his finger rest on the trigger as he tried to line the spine of the saber up with his gaze, pausing for a moment before pantomiming a loosed shot.

“I feel like the curve you’re working with here would lend less to treating it like the usual rifles Edren’s been adopting and more like a saber you can swing really hard at the right moment.” he stated frankly. “I’m not super experienced with the former— the past five years have all been me and a bunch of hardline, stubborn as old goat swordsmen. Not an environment that makes for a good deal of exposure, even if they’ve been forced to accept things are changing around them.”

He pointed the tip towards the earth, mimicking her posture when she’d handed it over in the first place. “But I do know that you generally want any projectile you’re trying to aim on a straight track, and that when the trigger sparks up all the powder in there, the explosion gets pretty violent if the steel isn’t up to the task of keeping it going through the barrel and… nowhere else.”

He had a pretty academic idea of it all, everything being equal. With maybe a little nudging through the foggier elements, he could describe the basic physics at work.

Having observed him mimicking a shot, Eliane nodded at Rudolf’s words. “Yeah. This weapon is more blade than gun, and using conventional ammunition, it’s not as powerful as my rifle if you’re using it simply as a gun.” Taking the weapon back, she beckoned him over to a spot where she could properly disassemble the revolver part of her weapon. “Your understanding’s better than I expected at least, so maybe I won’t have to baby you through this,” she chuckled.

I may have bitten off more than I can chew here.

“To start, this gunblade is a double-action design, which means…” It didn’t take long for her to begin in depth about how her weapons worked as she went through each weapon, explaining the mechanics behind how they were both fired and aimed. By the end of it, she had gotten very technical, especially when it came to the rotary cannon and her observations on how Valheimian firearms were made and used.

“Kept up, Rudolf?” she finally asked, having essentially lectured for the past hour or so.

“We’ll see in the morning,” he tiredly groused, poring back over the sheet of hastily scrawled notes. Some time after they’d gotten into differences in powder compounds, he’d realized it would be a hopeless endeavor to try and lock the full breadth of her technical lesson into the mind alone— doubly so in that he had come into this already a little mentally exhausted by the stress-testing Izayoi had put him through. “I’m gonna want more sleep than I’m likely to get to sort it all out.”

A slow release of breath, shoulders finally going a little slack.

“But at the very least, this’ll be a good start for the future. I’ll definitely know what I'm looking at better, the next time Valheim’s got a pistol to my brow. Hope Esben doesn’t try to pull that con with us again… But yeah, I should have the broad strokes.”

“Eh?” Eliane looked somewhat unimpressed. “It’s only been an hour.”

“Multiple hours of trying to learn to redirect lightning directly before this.” he flatly countered.

“...I suppose you’re not interested in the practical either.”

At this, he closed his eyes and massaged his temples for a moment, breathing deep. For a moment, he surely looked exasperated— but with a couple smacks to his cheeks, whatever ailed his mood was gone. Hers being a denser lecture than some of his cram sessions on Lunarian history aside, he had gotten what he asked for. Hadn’t just come this way to kill time.

“No… No, I am. No point in stopping at theory and definition when we’re this far in the weeds, and I might need to pick up one of their or your guns if something goes way, way screwy.”

He inclined his head, short and sharp.

”Please. I’m the type where feeling it all hands-on helps things click anyway.”

Eliane flashed Rudolf a wolfish grin at that reply. “Perfect! That’s the spirit. We’ll work on shooting and dodging, then.” It was becoming obvious that the Skaelan woman’s method of teaching and training very much skewed towards the training that he had just received from Izayoi…

And sure enough, before Rudolf could even voice protest to the attempted diplomatic tune of, “No, actually he was plenty experienced with dodging gunfire, do remember how we met”, his small pink taskmaster was off to the races, putting him through all manner of live-fire exercises— metaphorical and literal both.

In all fairness, those protestations died inside him pretty quickly anyway. As the exhaustive nature of her verbal lesson plan had clued him into, the “gaps” he was looking to fill were both wide and deep. They’d deduced (read: she had decided and he’d been essentially at her behest in agreeing) that the order of operations would place dodging at priority, given the tactical role he had taken onto himself and the frequency with which the information would come up and be relevant. There was a chance he’d have the opportunity to put what he learned to use in firing a weapon himself— there was a certainty that they’d all be shot at again, given how extensive Valheim’s infiltration of domestic soil had evidently become.

So, the first hour of the night had been spent on theory. The second, naturally, was practice— dry fire exercises, wherein she ran him through the ringer with both of her primary firearms— the objective, even without live ammunition, was simply “don’t get hit”.

The “gulf” in this respect manifested more subtly than in most— he had already glommed onto the basic principles of “the bullets come out the front of the gun, if that’s pointed at you go elsewhere” on his own terms, well before becoming one of the Kirins. With her instruction, though, his eyes were being opened to all the considerations the person at the other end of the rifle was making— their cone of vision, the zeroing of their sights, the firing nets that had already been set, on and on and on.

The rifle cracked, and he felt his shoulder shift, absorbing the kick of the recoil into it and his stance below. Mere fractions of a second later, the sound of impact from afar— they’d sourced and overturned a felled hardwood stump at the grove’s edge as a makeshift target, the bullet sinking into the wood.

Handling had been its own trial, getting all the motions down through empty repetition and close corrections, until finally he had been spared enough rounds to get a feel for actually shooting— barely any, given the scarcity of resupply.

Rudolf sought to make that handful she could afford him count, slowly exhaling as he worked the action, the brass falling to the soft, cool earth. By now, he had found the movement to start being baked into his limbs, the way a new sword technique might— a welcome reprieve, after all the hectic cramming he had done today. Just a process he could settle into, and stop thinking quite so hard.

For a few shots more, he kept silent, then…

“So I owe you for this, of course.”

He didn’t have much left in the tank. Time to wind it all down, decompress—

“Curious, though: This a bigger favor you’ve got to call in on me than Esben and his arlettes? Or did the walk on the beach square that whole thing out?”

— And after an entire month of trusting eachother with their lives (after a fashion), try and actually make a new friend. The week had been horrible, he was exhausted, the least he could do was learn a bit about one of the three left from the original unit.

Eliane, who had been carefully monitoring Rudolf’s performance and progress, shrugged. She had been a harsh taskmistress indeed, working him through the paces of the rigors of her craft, but the pink-haired woman recognized that he was beginning to flag and relented from pushing him further. “Hardly. I can only see the upsides in you and the others being better able to fight the Valheimians,” she countered.

“Well,” he shrugged his shoulders in turn, electing to be only as committal as she was on it rather than fight on the lines of an indefinite propriety. Acceptance, too, was proper. “I took your time away from other stuff, but I’ll take it.”

“Eh… for Esben?” Eliane made another shrugging gesture. “If we’re being transactional, sure. That beach was a pain.” She said it with emphasis, the memory of the whole thing clearly still displeasing her. “Baking is hardly a favor anyway…”

“Really?” a brow rose. “Even after all that theater on the docks? Hell, if we wanna talk about squirreling your time away…”

He spared a glance over his shoulder, towards the looming form of Ramuh, and the old man their mutual friend was in the midst of a spirited discussion with.

Eliane canted her head to the side at that response, giving him a questioning look.

“Maybe he just likes talking to you,” he offered, killing the urge to mirror the tilted head in favor of sighting the rifle again, training his focus on the irons if nothing else. “Been pretty often lately, is all. Could just be you remind him of home— Etro knows this place is as far removed from it as you get.”

He was a little surprised the heat hadn’t gotten to the two of them the way it had in Osprey. For his money, the humidity here made it all the worse, even if the high and lush forest canopy kept them out of the direct sunlight more often than not. As useless as they’d be in the bog, the thought of it made him miss his hat and cloak.

“Oh– Well, it’s always nice to talk to fellow countrymen,” Eliane readily agreed, bobbing her head. She wasn’t actively complaining about it, but the heat was definitely not something she had gotten used to.

“What about him, anyway?”

“Meaning?”

Eliane tilted her head again as she looked back at Rudolf. “Meaning…?”

He lowered the rifle. A gust of wind blew between the two of them, scented by gunpowder and campfire smoke.

“I asked you first.”

She stared back at him. “...Nevermind.” Another pause. “Is it really that often?”

“Think on it and get back to me then, I guess…”

He mulled her second question over for a moment, before counting the instances off finger by finger. With how hectic everything had been…

“Costa del Sol. The beach while we recovered from the Leviathan fight…” he grimaced, puzzling over something that was missing, just on the tip of his tongue… until, triumphantly, finger number three stood in rank. “You and Esben recently received orders to pivot us down to Skael, right? That’s what he told me— only time you might have had to do that was when we all split up through Brightlam, before we left with Isolde.” he concluded, holding the count up to view.

He didn’t mirror the full tilt she took, but there was a crooked, vaguely amused quality to his smirk that defied concrete description.

“We’ve been running ourselves through this country at a pretty breakneck pace ever since we stepped off the boat, so that’s pretty much all the time we’ve had that wasn’t at full muster. Being fair, I guess you didn’t have much room to notice.”

The pink-haired Skaeller gave him another look. “Really? That man talks a lot for a spy.” That gesture resolved into an eventual shrug before she began to gather discarded equipment and spent shells– satisfied with Rudolf’s performance after running him through the paces throughout the rest of the day.

”With what he trusts me knowing.” he intoned, bending low to do his part cleaning up the place.

“I guess it’s not too surprising. As for you, we’re far from done, but it’s obvious you’re learning a lot today.”

“May neither bolt nor bullet strike me henceforth,” he wryly vowed, nodding all the same. “Again, I appreciate the time and study. You said you were planning on cleaning your gear when we were finished up, right? Need an extra pair of hands?”

He offered the rifle, stock first as he’d been taught, in exchange for her share of the discarded brass he’d begun to collect in his other hand.

“No, no, I’m glad you’re interested. I like your proactivity.” Accepting the help with a nod, she took back the rifle, briefly checking the weapon before setting it against her shoulder. “Yes. We’ve got some work to do…”

The Kirins regrouped over dinner, Cid included, Goug having gathered them up as Izayoi finished ladleing out rich bowls of meat and vegetable stew. Once everyone was finished eating, Izayoi set her bowl down, looking around.

"Regardless of how this ends, we infiltrate Brightlam tomorrow. This will be our last chance to finalize our strategy and take in any final deviations before we take the field. If anyone has any suggestions, it would be best to state them now." She laid a map of Brightlam out along the ground for all to see.

"About that." Cid rose from where he sat, setting his own bowl down into the emptied cookpot. "I have a suggestion to offer." When no one seemed to object in the moment, he carried on.

"I've taken the liberty of handing young Esben a crystal that will beckon me towards the holy ground it illuminates when aether is channeled through it. Most likely, you'll find the council within holy ground: either Brightlam Cathedral or the council chambers themselves. Zacharias, I have history with. I believe I can aid you in swaying him. As for Isolde..." His expression turned weary, even as he knelt down to mark off the cathedral and the council chambers on the map.

"Hand me over to her. At best, it may buy you enough goodwill to learn of the crystal's location. At worst, it will take her off guard."

"I assume you have no intention of staying a prisoner in this scenario?" Izayoi raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not! Eve would be rather cross with me should I leave her to her own devices, after all." The old man chuckled before his expression turned serious once more. "As for Alambert...his disposition is unknown to me. Your best judgment will more than suffice should you come across him."

Izayoi nodded before looking back across the group.

"Thoughts? Options? We've time enough to hash this out as we did with the prison assault."

Rudolf took a deep, contemplative breath, folding his arms while he pored over the angles that one could take with that card in hand. Truthfully, his had been a really, really long day— if he zoned out, he could still hear the phantom percussion of crushing thunder, cracking rifle reports, even after they'd long stopped assailing his ears. He was beginning to feel heavy, between the hearty fare they'd tucked in (his, Miina's, and Chisato's portions all being forcefully doubled) and the fading rigor he'd been supplied by Eliane's shared coffee— it'd not be terribly long before he was in a state he'd personally consider totally useless for much more than rote labor, rather than anything technical or strategic. If you threw him into a bedroll, he'd be gone before he knew it.

"Hand you over..." he repeated, speaking in a low murmur before cupping his chin and projecting properly. "Regarding Isolde: If we were to try that, we'd want to maximize our chances she bites at all. That's tough— she's already got ample reason to be wary of everybody, after the mess with Leviathan. It'd have to be somebody that could plausibly have a change of heart on the whole thing, at least how I see it."

He cast his gaze in a slow, wide arc, looking over each person in their assembly in turn. He couldn't see Eliane, Miina, or Izayoi even remotely registering as genuine from Isolde's perspective, either by way of the things she already knew of them or by how quickly they'd tried to cut her down. She'd be biased against them from the start.

Galahad and Esben had laid their arguments out, and at least engaged in what dialogue Isolde had had for them, but Rudolf imagined that the former's line in the sand had been drawn too firmly, a knight's conviction to "do what he had to" and stand in opposition not so easily cast off as to ring true. That the latter's glib refutation in front of her troops had undercut her, even if only a little, too much that she wouldn't expect some angle being played.

Robin was gone. As were Ciradyl, and Arton, the both of them having had nothing to say to begin with. In their places was Chisato— a clipped professional with their lot at best, but her background beneath Izayoi's employ at the very least suggested extensive experience with presenting the correct facade— but given the personal nature of this idea, Cid's existence being a contention between the Kirins and Grovemasters alone... her being an unknown to Isolde wouldn't get her anywhere. Why would some random Viera know about Cid, let alone have a crystal to summon him?

...

He frowned, furrowing his brow, cognizant of where this line of thinking left him and searching for something he could have missed. An avowed and eager warmonger suddenly capitulating to somebody else's demands? No chance. The Wild Dance suddenly forgiving the knife in the back and handing over an ally? Not after she had laid down her sword, let alone having picked it back up.

Miina?

...

Maybe? He didn't buy it, she had clearly been wanting to assassinate her just from the first discussion they'd had regarding Brightlam's infiltration, but maybe there was a way she could sell... No, he simply didn't see it. Everything he could come up with: Zeke, her study of White Magic, even the tribe's settlements, angles like those could only work if they had any reason to suspect Isolde knew about them. Rudolf had none.

Leaving only one person. He started again, tone carefully neutral.

"Might have to be me, presuming that. Even with our standoff at the shrine, as far as I can tell Isolde and I have the most... mutually sympathetic outlook towards one another, in the words we've exchanged. I've already gone and sought her guidance once, before all that— and argued towards idealism because of that conversation."

He steepled his hands in front of him. His mind was steel.

"She knows I'm turbulent, but place a high import on responsibility. Greater good. She might buy me 'taking her words to heart' as I have before, and seeking some redemption— I admit this is flimsy. It hinges on casting myself in opposition to the rest of you guys, which would run counter the same 'pull yourself out of a hole for the sake of those around you' idea I'm banking on, unless we change the scope. Even so, if there's anyone here she has reason to believe she could actually 'win over', I suspect I top the list."

He glanced off to the side. Esben was the one who held the crystal at the minute, and any such handoffs he'd make would be quite thoroughly vetted before they happened. Rudolf, while earnestly engaging with the notion, didn't see it happening very easily, especially when they'd already reached a very different conclusion before this element entered the picture.

"Of course, we were already planning on isolating and appealing to Zacharias, and our infiltration necessitated splitting, anyway. It would take some overhauling to divert course from what we've already prepared for over to that, and with sketchier odds— though it solves the issue of them all being able to sniff the blackflame out ¹ more neatly than just praying none of them decide to bring alms for the poor."

His cards on the table, he found his posture still rigid, even when he tried to go a little more slack.

"That's my read, for whatever it's worth. Worth saying: That final bit might prove an obstacle no matter what route we take. Superstitious folk have noticed something off since we were aboard the Fishman, saying nothing of mages."

---

---

• _{1. You know who else can do that, Rudolf? Cid. You know how far away Cid is? Sniffing distance. Please, for our own good, shut the hell up.}

"C-C-Couldn't we… um…" Miina trailed off, looking sheepishly away. She was going to propose just… getting Isolde out of the way for a little bit, even if Esben was staunchly against killing her, but really, how would they go about doing that? Now that she thought about it, that would only make the negotiating position worse than just disappearing her… "O-Oh, w-won't she run off if C-Cid's location is revealed…?"

Rather than using the priest as a bargaining chip, couldn't they just use him as bait? If they got the unreasonable one out of the way, they could persuade the other two, and then avoid dealing with Isolde until it was okay to get back at her in future!

…

Ah, she should have eaten her stew slower, it would've let her keep busy and just stay out of the conversation. Or would they just have started later…?

---

"That particular idea can remain deep within our list of backups," Esben said flatly, cutting off any further discussion on whether or not to hand Cid over. "I'm not yet convinced she isn't in league with Valheim or their agents, beyond whatever her faction in the church might be trying to push—and let's not forget that, among other things, they've developed the ability to siphon power away from the Eidolons and raise the dead as weapons. I will not risk losing one of our greatest assets to an adept white mage and whatever benefactors she may have."

Not to mention that, with more thought in the matter, he could imagine ways in which this new school of thought in the church that Isolde seemed to espouse could have been planted by the invaders or those sympathetic to their goals. Deny the Eidolons, minimize the other gods, turn the defenders of the faith on each other and leave everything open and exploitable in the chaos. Typical part of the playbook, to his eyes, just at a much higher profile than he'd normally have dared consider.

Not many would, to begin with. The little information the Garden had on Valheim's intelligence operations didn't suggest such work was within their capabilities, something that he'd expected to ring true after everything Cid had said about the state of things across the ocean. Even when engaging in a military operation, such totalitarian regimes would be expected to keep their intelligence more internally focused—or specific to finding their targets.

He tapped the side of his bowl thoughtfully. "I may have to see about ferreting out some of her fellow schismatics once we've dealt with the major problem. But I propose we stick to the plan I outlined three days ago, to start with. Chisato, I haven't asked—were those sketches Rudolf did enough that you think you can identify Isolde without issue?"

---

"Giving the assassin pictures of Isolde- are we assassinating her after all? Can't say I hate the idea." Galahad remarked as he watched the others around the dinner table. He shook his head before objections- or agreement was made, "Twas just a comment. In poor taste, admittedly, given the state of things."

Galahad sighed, setting his empty bowl aside as he considered their options. "I agree with Esben- I don't know if handing Cid over would be ideal. We defended Cid and tried to kill her not long ago, if we suddenly flipped on our decision so soon, I fear it would come off as more suspicious than anything."

He recalled the vague plan they'd discussed a few days ago. Split up into small teams to avoid notice, tasks assigned to the most suitable members. Though now with Cid in the picture, things changed. If he could sway Zacharias, that would make their task at least somewhat easier. Though that still left Isolde to contend with- Alambert remained a wildcard. Perhaps he'd be swayed by Cid, perhaps he'd remain a supporter of Isolde. Isolde was unlikely to be swayed, so they'd likely have to try to get to Alambert after Zacharias, preferably without causing alarm.

"I think the subtle approach is still the best idea. Get in quiet, establish a base of operations, gather information from there. We can try to sway Zacharias first, with Cid's help. Maybe Alambert afterwards. I fear Isolde may be a lost cause. If she so readily had wanted posters of us prepared, I doubt she'll be so willing to 'hear our side' out, so to speak. As Esben says, she may very well be under the thumb of Valheim, if not them directly, then via proxy."

At a moment like this, I wish I'd been able to arrive somewhat earlier. While I'd been briefed mostly on what to expect, having a better grasp of the details of the situation would allow me prepare accordingly.

Unfortunately, all I have is the explanations by the others, and those sketches. Certainly, working on such information is not out of the realm of my experience as a shinobi, but it's not as if more information would be unfavorable.

And as for the sketches---

"... They were adequate."

Why did they even assign Sagramore-san to do that?

"For an Edreni's work."

Indeed, they had given me most of the details I required in order to recognize the Grovemaster in question. From what I had heard of her actions, she appeared to be a remarkably frustrating person who could not set aside pointless grievances for the sake of her nation's future.

Such people had died at my hands more than once. This would be no different, if it came down to it.

"Infiltration work is best left to those who are versed in such matters," I continue, "And none of our potential foes are familiar with me."

With that being said, I'm not certain what sort of identity could be constructed to justify the level of access I would need to perform a proper infiltration. I am quite clearly a foreigner, and while that is not always an obstacle it feels as if it would likely be one in this situation.

What explanation would I have for allowing me to get close?

"---Regardless, I agree that suddenly deciding to offer Cid-dono up as a prisoner would come across as highly suspicious. Only someone utterly brainless would accept it unquestioningly."

While our opponent did appear to be an idiot, it was unlikely she was the sort of idiot would would fall for such a plan, based on what I understood of her behavior.

Quite frankly, I think killing her the moment we are given the chance is likely the right choice. Even if she were to surrender, her irrationality in the face of the threats posed to her people---

Perhaps idiot is too kind of a word for someone like her.

The Edreni whose work was in question, on the edge of exhaustion as he was, rolled his eyes.

"The portraits and accompanying notes are to be as comprehensive as realistically possible," he chuffed, a flat gaze affixed to the diminutive little rabbit who'd been semi-willingly made patron of the arts. If she was going to tack that on at the end, then clearly she meant to insinuate she was dissatisfied somehow. "If there's a problem, you'd best point it out now. We're not going to have a chance to rectify our materials until well after infiltration. Do speak up."

His bowl and utensils well-cleaned already at the insistence of the chef, he found his hands reaching for the bone-hilted rondel at his hip and slowly drawing it, bringing the blade into firelight. It was, of course, already well-maintained earlier in the evening, but keeping his hands occupied by checking the work and fiddling with something sharp was more ritual than task at this point.

"Anyway," he grunted. "It sounds like we're maintaining our original course. While the three of us—" the tip of the rondel swayed in the air, stopping upon the forms of Galahad, Izayoi, and finally himself. "— are under wraps and playing as the downtrodden, we can keep an ear out for further mention of this schism. See how widespread it is. Before that:"

The knife drifted to Esben.

"Our primary task is securing safe harbor while you're all tailing your respective Grovemasters, correct? How do you intend we get ahold of you once that's done? You going to just come find us?"

---

One of Chisato's tall, rabbit-like ears was rapidly subjected to the uncomfortable sensation of being pinched and tugged right at the tip in response to her answer. "Behave yourself," was the stern command she got in return for her opinionated choice of words. "I can't afford to babysit either of you." He released her ear, turning back to Rudolf as a question was put his way.

"If Éliane can link up with Darri, then once she reconvenes with the three of you she should have some ideas for some surreptitious sort of signage that I'll know to keep an eye out for. I'll brief the other two before we split up. Failing that—beggars love to gossip. It shouldn't be difficult to get a hint my way if I keep my ear to the ground. We'll be working quickly enough that it shouldn't pose an undue risk. Otherwise, yes, I should be able to find you without much trouble."

He glanced over to Éliane.

"In case things should get too messy too quickly, make sure to ask Darri for some ideas on where you can all fall back to. I don't want to have to try and plan a second prison break in as many months."

---

“Even the pretense of handing Cid over is too dangerous. I am in favor of just killing the woman.”

It hardly came as a surprise that when presented, Éliane came right back in and jumped back on the idea of assassinating Isolde despite the preexisting plans. She had remained quiet through most of the discussion, giving the impression that she had thoughtful insights to impart when she finally spoke up… but in the end her opinion on the matter had and always would be obvious.

Her gaze lingered on Chisato for longer than was normal, obviously contemplating how a murder rabbit might best accomplish that goal.

Still, she was able to recognize that it was hardly going to happen yet despite the pendulum starting to swing in her favor, but she still looked annoyed when Esben addressed her. “…Fine. I’ll keep an eye out and see what he has to say.”

With its lack of true walls and relatively relaxed guard, Brightlam was easier to infiltrate than any of the other three nations' capitals on the continent would have been. Not a walk in the park by any means, but it wasn't an impossible task, either. Regardless, the Kirins' two infiltrators and one sneaky mage were now within city limits, free to move about as they pleased.

With that, it was far, far simpler to be familiar enough with the guard schedule to find a hole where the remaining Kirins could be snuck in with all of their equipment. From there, the party split up in order to begin working towards their assigned goals.

There were avenues galore with which to track each of the Grovemasters down. Eavesdropping, informants, or outright bribery. And so much more. Regardless, the night was still young, and all that was known so far was that each was in a separate location, oweing to not having convened in council today.

___

@vietmyke @HereComesTheSnow

Even covered in form-encompassing cloaks and tucking away as many identifying pieces of equipment as they could beneath them, the three warriors would be hard-pressed to justify themselves should they be accosted by any passing guardsman on patrol. Fortunately, they did secure an abandoned hovel, carved out of a dead tree. It seemed dead wood was valued little among those in Brightlam.

With a base of operations secured and their gear secure, Galahad, Rudolf, and Izayoi were free to begin their work in earnest.

---

"I think this will do for now." Galahad grumbled as he set his wrapped halberd against the far wall of the hovel, out of sight. His pack hit the ground with a heavy, metallic clunk. Honestly, he felt naked without his weapon or armor, but heavy cloak or not- the angular shape of dragoon armor was... distinctive, so it was decided it'd be best if he wasn't wearing it when he didn't have to. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"If we're lucky, we shouldn't have to worry about guards coming around an old place like this." He murmured, "But we should still keep at least one of us here at any given moment to make sure we can keep a lookout for the others- and an eye on our stuff." Galahad remembered the highwaymen that attempted jumping himself, Robin and Rudolf. Drana Asnaeu was no stranger to scoundrels looking for a quick payday- and an unattended hovel of weapons and armor was a waiting treasure trove for folk like that.

"I'll take the first watch." Galahad noted as Rudolf and Izayoi dropped off any unnecessary gear down as well. "We should keep our presence as light as possible. Check things out for a few hours, then come back and switch with me."

---

...

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"Alright. Cloak. Old shirt that's too big." There was a shuffling of fabric in the gloom within the old hollowed-out tree, as a compact frame slipped into his southron companion's travel garb, a bit past being "well-worn". Given how starkly different their statures were, it easily concealed his diligently-honed build, hanging off of him more like a loose, ratty tunic than anything else."Oil. Swords stay here. Ash and dirt not far. I miss anything?"

"Forgive me."

"Why would I need t—"

A dull thud and wet crack filled the chamber in stereo with one another as the shorter figure turned, causing a few concerned glances to be sent the pair's way. It took a lot of the younger man's trust, in the next few seconds, that there were usually very good reasons behind the elder's more inscrutable choices to keep him from swinging back and flattening all six feet and change that had just pulverized the cartilage of his nose without warning.

"Eos, heal him fast so he doesn't swell up too much."

"Gahhh ddddamn it" Rudolf hissed, lowering an assortment of white knuckles as the fairy's healing glow subsumed his face. Her expression was quirked into a rather curious frown in doing so, but nonetheless, he could feel the pain fading. If he had to guess, she was surprised that there was no pins-and-needles feeling of unease to endure— He and his passenger had mutually concluded that they needed to quench as much of the profaned flame next to his soul as possible to even have a hope of making this facade stick. That was the bright side of things— sometimes, survival instincts mutually aligned, and he got a moment to himself in his own head.

As he busied his mouth with handling breathing until the healing was complete, Esben busied his the usual way.

"Rudolf, forgive us again later— we'll have to rebreak the nose to set it correctly and heal it properly."

"... You know, thinking about it, that hurt more when I was a kid. Guess that makes sense."

"Also, go get yourself dirtied up again. You're a pretty boy, even with a broken nose. You'd never last on the streets."

"Way ahead of you. Said I've got oil." the young man replied, almost not growling, thinking that he'd rather be "handsome" than "pretty".

"Make sure you use your old stuff. The choji oil Hien gave us will smell too nice."

As response, Rudolf held the trusty tin he had left Sagramore with aloft. Were it fresh, it too would have been characterized by florid, fiery notes of the spices the swordsmen favored in so many things, but after all they had been through together...

"Mm. Flat, and a little rancid. Good. ... Well," the SEED reared back, nodding approvingly even with his face bunched up by the odor. "Bad, but good for making you smell like an unwashed beggar."

Setting to griming himself through the face and slicking it through his vaguely stained, blood-anointed hair, the swordless swordsman huffed. "I've got some ash from our last camp and dirt from right here next, before you say it."

"Do you want me to help apply it, or do you think you have that handled?"

"I can do it." he firmly reiterated, having been introduced to wearing the earth upon himself when he ritualistically stalked the sabertooth whose fang he'd hidden beneath the loose garb. He wasn't looking to break up his outline, but it was still the same basic application.

"If it has you worried at all..."

A look.

"Are you doing this because Elly's off on her own and you're channeling how nervous you are about her having to be subtle into something that feels productive?"

Oh hey, a whisper, at the edge of his perception. There you go, right to his face.

An unreadable smirk from on high. It was wry, charming, colorlessly glib.

"Look at that, trying to use my misdirection technique against me. You're turning into quite the seedling, I'll make a field agent out of you yet."

The look held, flattening just a hair.

"No, seriously. That was me actually asking."

"..."

---

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...

---

Even in Brightlam, a city as close as any to paradise, touching nature, the divine, and the eidolons that served as their stewards, the many misfortunate of mankind were never far away. Indeed, perhaps it was precisely due church's tightly woven presence that all manner of the infirm, the lost, and the downtrodden flocked to the winding streets in droves, hailing from all over the continent. Here, society's rejected could gather, and hope towards some kind of salvation from the human condition, and its' cruel scythe that had judged them chaff.

The sun had grown long, the spears of late afternoon a burnished bronze as they peeked through the canopy overhead, casting the milling faithful, rubbing shoulders as they held communion, listened in on liturgy, and fell again into whatever vice had caught them, all at once, all in tones of old amber. Money, food, fists— all changed hands in places where the light couldn't quite reach, between those that sought it, but could never quite capture it for keeps. No large fraction of these trades were fully willing. In the end, all the beneficence that could be given still fell short of seeing the next day.

They were choking.

One man in a cloak among many slipped through the streets, a sincere need to get somewhere about his person. He wasn't having an easy time of it. Glancing over his shoulder, he wasn't being followed— not closely.

Granted, it'd be a rare pursuer that could closely follow. All around him, people were clamoring for alms from the few cleaner passerby, or the church, anyone that looked like they had something they could spare. With his ears, he could pick out snippets of dozens of pleas, each laid over one another in a dull roar. They were refugees from the war that had befallen Osprey. They were sick with strange fevers, visited by some manner of plague. They had lost their minds, their sparks, their connections to the gods, and were trying to live until they could reaffirm the goodliness to the mothercrystal.

Many, too many, had lost their homes to the unstoppable march of the Blight. He could see the limbs hidden away by bandages, those that had been hacked off to stop the spread. Those afflicted would speak of the fading light that ravaged the land, as though Etro herself had turned her back upon them. More still spoke of the spoiled lands, tainted waters, and piled dead, burning on pyres of acrid flame— that it was the Eidolons, keepers of the elements, that had abandoned them. These voices were loud and vengeful, and pulled much of the din back onto them in turn— he'd witnessed his share of mob-ordained floggings for the heresies.

On and on they boiled around him. Hard to believe the Church had any authority here— let alone the highest. He snorted, finally pushing past the row of congregation ahead. For supposed holy ground, the place was a real dump. You just needed to enter the shadow of the the central tree. He checked over his shoulder again.

Nothing. He didn't like the feeling of nothing. He knew people were looking for him.

He had somewhere to be.

He pushed on further.

Ahead, there was an overhang that many of Brightlam's charitable were willing to stop by, and so many seeking charity tended to congregate, waiting for their chance at anything good. The perks of being on the path to the city's righteous were many, enough that every man who sought place there could find his own assembly of them— for him, on this day, the chiefest was assembly itself.

He was one man in a cloak among many. Nestling himself within the bunch, he could lay low relatively comfortably, keep his ears open for something important. If he hadn't been obviously pursued now, then he would be damned impossible to pick out here if he just kept his head down. Casing the rumor mill hardly went better than when you surrounded yourself with urchins. When they weren't casting their pleas to the Holy, they had nothing else to do but talk, and listen, and watch whatever happened in the light.

It was slow going. Felt like an eternity. But eventually...

"Scoot over, will ya?" he muttered under his breath, unable to avoid brushing shoulders past one of his peers. The man felt solid, and beneath his hood, there was a hint of a crooked nose— he didn't need to make enemies with anyone who might start something. He dropped to a knee, waving the other down, and took a friendlier tack before offense could be taken.

"Say, what's the word these days, pal?"

"..." The other man was silent as he lowered himself in turn, head staring into the ground as though he meant to pierce it and gaze upon the waters below. Hell, had he chosen to strike up conversation with somebody that had gotten punched dumb? Just his luck right now, wasn't it—

"I've heard the Grovemasters are wary of one another." a weathered voice cut his thoughts off. It had a dry texture, but sounded young. Nobody he had heard before. "One of them believes this talk of the Eidolons abandoning us. That only the Mothercrystal may save us from the Blight."

"Hey, hey! Keep your voice down with that." the first man hissed, surreptitiously glancing up as a patrol of Kapok Sentinels marched past overhead, wanted posters clutched in their hands. Just as quickly, his head dropped back down to pin this newcomer with an uncomfortable glare. "You see them up there? The last thing we want's their attention, because you're speaking careless and getting this place as riled up as the rest of them." He jerked a thumb the way he'd came, where it was every man for himself.

"They're guards, aren't they? My mother studied here once."

Oh for the love of— He had to jettison this man as quick as he could. A real know-nothing.

"She spoke well enough of them. Diligent, but pious as well. They would have charity for the lost."

"Yeah, well their diligence is on overdrive right now. A bunch of dumbasses that sound a lot like you sound have gone and made attempts on their lives in the past week. My advice is to make nobody think you might agree with them on anything. Head down, play church mouse, don't question your priests."

"That's concerning." the other figure noted, looking up to watch the Sentinels' retreating forms as they moved on. He watched them turn to another street, as the congregation the two had nestled themselves amongst grew less stiff. "They're looking for the people that did this?"

"Yeah. And they'll swipe whoever the hell they feel like." he shook his head. "Too many pricks chasing the bounties already. Everything's too hot right now. You never know who'll decide you look close enough to be worth a shot."

"... I see. And people have heard me here, then." rather deliberate, for potentially being dangled off the side of the tree if that assumption were correct. "Should I go?"

Yes. Yes, absolutely. Before you blurt out the next dumbest thing somebody less generous might overhear. Not to mention... it'd open up some real estate. Who knew, maybe if this guy suddenly left right when a moron would think the coast was clear, he could bait out anyone that might be looking for a thief.

"Listen, I won't rat you out. But words travel quick here, so..."

"So I'll do the same for you, and we'll hope for the best."

A double-take—

But the slow-witted man was already gone.

---

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...

---

He returned, slipping the hood off of his slicked-back hair as he nodded to Galahad, still keeping a watchful eye on the dead wood. Speaking of eyes, at some point he had gotten himself a shiner while he was out, matching the break in his nose well.

"It doesn't seem like Isolde's mode of thinking is terribly popular, at least. There's unrest from the people affected by the Blight, but outright saying the elementals or the other gods is still unsavory at best. At worst... they've got tighter security than a week ago. Pretty regular patrols all through the place except around here, and that's only because we'd be more like hay in a needlestack than vice-versa. Keeping watch was a good call— lots of thieves around, somebody would have pinched our gear."

---

Other than a last-second reminder from Esben to ”Be careful,” Éliane had been left to her own devices once the Kirins split and all went their separate ways. Hunting down the storefront of a former classmate, posing as a simple merchant in Brightlam. By Esben’s best guess, the shop would be placed within the main market, the central thoroughfare through which nearly all the trade of the city passed. If the Kirins were lucky, the shop would double as the agent’s home, though given that neither his nor Éliane’s assignment was specifically meant to put them in contact with the local agent...neither of them knew for sure.

Worse yet, even at night, the market was sure to be under closer watch than most other places in the city. While the guards were lax compared to many other places, the fact that the city was nearly entirely open meant that they had more to devote to patrolling the streets rather than watching at the walls and gates. Given that some business rarely slept—and crime never did—there was no doubt they would have a near-constant presence within the market.

Nothing insurmountable, and the city’s open layout extended even within the market itself, which could be as much to her benefit as to her detriment; it was only a matter of devising the right plan of attack to reach her target.

It was a rare moment that the pink-haired Skaelan in question moved about in inconspicuous clothing and in a (relatively) unassuming way, but Éliane was still a woman with SEED training and experience no matter how badly she had meshed with the service. Dressed in a tunic and cloak, she felt out of place especially given she was literally infiltrating a city. The most ‘infiltrating’ she usually did came with the great din and ruckus of pitched battle, not activities like this.

Éliane had been a city dweller, though, and she ultimately knew just how to look busy and occupied as she moved through the market with a fast walking pace. However, the main issue remained, finding the correct storefront…

It wasn’t the most brilliant of ideas given the man was supposed to be under deep cover, but she began searching for culturally familiar stores in the guise of window shopping, looking for Skaeller or Solitude elements that might give away a shopowner’s roots.

Storefront by storefront started to pass by in a blur, most as empty as could be; this late at night, it was rare to find too many outside of the larger guild houses that would still have lights on and people present. Occasionally she would peek in a window, catching a glimpse at a shopkeeper checking their books, cleaning, stocking shelves in preparation for an early start the next day. A Mystrel, a Sollan, a Mystrel, another Mystrel—

Some guards passed a disinterested glance her way. At least the disguise appeared to be working for the moment. If the hood of the cloak being up despite the time and the fair weather struck them as suspicious at all, they didn’t show it...or they were, perhaps, disinclined to do anything for as long as she looked to be keeping out of trouble.

While the architecture and any goods she could see didn’t strike her as anything familiar, she did eventually come across a name she would recognize. Anquetil Housewares, blazened over the doorway, with an unfortunate “Closed” sign in the near window. There was one lit window on the second floor, however, suggesting that the proprietor may yet be awake.

Éliane arrogantly assumed that she would not get caught, and it was obvious the unfounded confidence did as much to make her blend in among the nighttime crowd in view of the guards. It didn’t stop the market search from being an exercise in frustration, though, and after the umpteenth irrelevant shop, she was about to give up and turn in for the night when a familiar word greeted her in the form of a home goods shop. Using your surname for the name of your shop when you were a spy was definitely a decision. Even she could recognize that.

There was always a chance that it was still just a random immigrant from Skael, but Éliane considered the chances of that low. There were few Skaellers that wanted to live abroad in barbarian lands like this, and the lowlives that were exiled weren’t the sort of folks that would open a Housewares store in good standing, and considering it was the right name... She was confident this was the SEED operation she was looking for.

Glancing behind her quickly, she stepped into the store door’s alcove and wrapped her knuckles on the surface, intent on getting the shopkeeper’s attention– or annoying him enough to respond. “Hello! Are you open?” she called out innocently, her accent obviously from Solitude.

There was no response. A couple passers-by gave her some odd looks for knocking and calling out at a shop that was clearly closed.

Undeterred, she kept knocking. “I can see you’re still in there!”

As she kept knocking—loudly—she started to draw more attention than before. The light on the second floor wavered slightly as though someone started moving in the room, and a pair of guards that were passing by stopped, one calling out to her in a bored voice. ”Miss, even if there’s still a light on, the shop’s clearly closed, quit causing a ruckus—”

Just then, the tall Faye proprietor of the shop pulled up his window and looked out. His eyes met Éliane’s, a small raise of the eyebrows the most sign of recognition he gave, before he looked over to the guards. ”Don’t worry about it, gentlemen, I know this one,” he said, waving them off, before looking back down at the woman incessantly knocking on his door. ”Marie, didn’t I tell you to be here by nine? Late is an understatement, woman!”

”Ought to find this one a watch, Darri!”

With a somewhat mocking laugh, the guards continued along their way, not once having gotten close enough to actually see under Éliane’s hood. Darri exaggeratedly rolled his eyes at them, before closing the window and disappearing back into the room. Moments later, he could be seen in the main room of his shop coming down the stairs, before quickly unlocking the door and letting the pink-haired woman in.

”Upstairs,” he bid. ”First door on the right. We’ll talk in my office.” Once they were in and the door was locked, a faint shimmer passed over it for a moment. Warded, just like Kayliss had done in the inn. He took a seat behind his desk, looking at Éliane over his steepled fingers.

”You know, when Mom said that the two of you had linked up and might need to talk to me, I hadn’t quite believed her. I don’t think even she expected that you’d end up with wanted posters and a hefty bounty...but what’s most amazing is that you’re the one that’s come to me.”

“Oh, um, bleh…” At the reprimand, she put her two hands to her forehead and tilted her head, making an airheaded expression as the guards moved on with their lives. With her way in secured, Éliane quickly followed in after Darri, finding a seat in front of the disguised spy. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and our dreadnoughts would have been sailing up the river instead,” she replied, almost petulantly.

The pink-haired woman glanced back at the man speculatively, somewhat surprised he hadn’t commented on her unorthodox (but clearly effective) way of getting his attention. “Anyway, I’ve been told by a certain someone to ask if there’s any good rabbit in this godsforsaken city… but everyone that knows me also knows my opinion on rabbit.”

That was, of course, that she thought rabbit tasted completely like overpriced chicken.

Her opinions on foreign policy and non-standard meats went ignored as Darri closed his eyes. ”So he sent you,” he muttered, ”And he’s either planning on killing someone or hasn’t completely thrown out the possibility.” He opened his eyes again, his stare fixed on Éliane once more.

”We’re not out in the market, and it’s not the middle of the day. My wards are quite secure—speak freely. What specifically is it the two of you are after from me? I’m not an assassin, and I can’t jeopardize my position by acting like you might.” He almost seemed impatient, despite the bored tone he was using.

Maybe he really had been about to tuck in for the night.

“Oh, that’s simple,” Éliane responded with a casual tone, leaning back in her seat. “We’re probably going to need to replace one or all of the grovemasters.”

”Is that all? Maybe the two of you are more reserved than I thought.”

“That’s the first time someone from SEED thought I was reserved. Am I communicating correctly?”

”You’re as adept at sarcasm as ever. Is that all, or was there anything else he sent you to ask about?”

She gave a flat stare back in response. “Well, yes. We’re going to need a list of candidates…” She held up one finger, paused for a moment, and then held up another. “And some fall-back locations in case this whole thing goes up in smoke.”

Darri nodded, pulling out a paper and a pen from inside his desk and starting to write. ”I’d almost expect that knowing you’re involved, Mouse,” he replied as he wrote. ”Good to know he’s still coherent, at least. When Mom said the two of you were together I had feared the worst.”

Pen scratched at paper as he rapidly scrawled a practiced shorthand. He paused, thinking for a moment, before writing another line. ”Has he had a fit yet from the stress of it?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s doing remarkably well.”

”Really? No psychotic breakdown? No physical health problems? Ah, but, looking at that cloak—” He nodded at her attire. ”—maybe you’ve finally learned to take someone else’s counsel for once. Or is it just because of that samurai you’re travelling with?”

He finished writing, holding the scrap of paper across the desk to the pink-haired woman that was the target of whatever this acerbic wit of his was. ”There. Names of their top apprentices, a couple other prominent people in the city, and a few places that you all should manage to hide. He should be able to parse it if you’ve forgotten the ciphers and all.”

Éliane gave him a look at those words, deciding not to answer the secret agent man’s questions. “Thanks for the…” The pink-haired officer glanced down at the paper after accepting it, wrinkling her nose. “Rabbit stew recipe.”

”Of course,” he replied neutrally. ”I take it you’ll be on your way, then? If you take anything downstairs, I’ll make sure they dock it from your pay.”

“...”

“What are you selling downstairs?”

”Don’t look around, it’ll be suspicious if anybody looks in the windows.” He waved her on, evidently done with their conversation. ”The wards will deactivate without any issue when you open the door. Try not to get yourself caught once you’re back outside.”

She stood up, lightly dusting off her cloak after folding the paper into a pocket as she made to leave. “Thanks! I’ll see what I can add to my portable baking ensemble downstairs and like you said, you can add it to my tab,” Éliane responded, already beyond the threshold of the door and out of sight.

Darri watched her leave without another word. Once he heard her tramp downstairs, he rolled his eyes. ”Honestly can’t believe she let them stay together,” he muttered to himself, locking his desk. He was ready for bed.

Miina's preparations for entry were fairly straightforward, so far as these things went: put just enough effort into dying her hair (and tail) that they were no longer a vivid red, change out of her nice clothes again… and more or less just go in through the normal entrances. Isolde had no information about her background and, once split up from the group, Miina was just one more tribal girl headed to Brightlam for some reason or another.

… she even gave a mostly true reason! There was way better drink available here than out home.

Once inside, the first port of call was to find enough funding for the rest of her mission. In that regard, Brightlam wasn't amazingly different from Costa del Sol… all you had to do was keep an eye out for someone looking well enough off and not incredibly attentive. After that… Miina had a sharp knife and near-invisibility, plus plenty of manual dexterity; it wasn't too hard to be a cutpurse with an advantage like that.

Drinking money Mission funding acquired, that meant it was time for the fun part: finding off-duty guards and seeing if she could ferret out information. Normally, she would be looking for where someone wasn't to know where it was safe to break in, but hey, it worked just as well if you did it the other way round, right? Not that she was sure why she seemed to have such luck with getting them to big themselves up and let information slip; even with practice at this Miina couldn't ever sound confident… but that worked in her favour? She didn't understand guards.

Well, she understood that a lot of the more manly ones liked it when a girl was happy to drink and pay for drinks. Shame for them that Miina could just surreptitiously cure most of her own inebriation. And if, if someone kept pushing… ah, Mr. Guard must've overdone his own drinking, he just fell asleep. That was a shame, wasn't it?

Of course, anything too close to the cathedral itself would be… too pricey, too nice, but this was where the practice really came in. It couldn't be too seedy, after all, but it still needed to be out of the way enough that nobody would rope a poor, unfortunate off-duty guard into doing their job once they were free. And if Miina got to enjoy herself sampling along the way, what was the harm in that? It was just building cover or… something like that.

Lack of professionalism or not, Miina's approach to information gathering was still enough to find out some basic things. Knowing when the changing of the guard was? Helpful for slipping in. The information that each of the Grovemasters had their own personal guards? Well, not the sort of tidbit that would usually interest her, but it might be useful here…

A notable clump coming in not at the aforementioned changing, glad to be off and grumbling? Ah, why don't they come join the friends she was already making, get it off their shoulders? She could even afford to get them drinks, after all… really, she could! Hey, just because she was an uncivilised wildcat didn't mean she couldn't make money here in the city, she had talents…

And what an interesting find it was! Alambert had let his guards go early? That was awful! The Grovemasters were so strong, but they weren't invincible… were they at least getting paid the same? Yes, doing something like that sounded terrible… oh, Miina would go get them another round to make up for it, don't you worry.

So their boss was moving about on his own at night? Ah, that was a scary thought, she wouldn't want to do that… she could understand that there were some things that an important public figure might want to do without an entire entourage watching, unless that made it more interesting, but surely that didn't need him to be the one go—

Oh, she had the wrong idea? Sorry, sorry, her mind was in the gutter… so he wasn't meeting someone? Were they really sure it wasn't a potential lover? Well, no, but why would he go off to the north like that, etc…

The annoying part was having to make small talk about other things rather than bouncing straight away, but at least she got another drink out of it, and… well, maybe slipping away wasn't the easiest thing, but if Miina had one talent, it was extricating herself from situations. And someone that drunk probably wouldn't think too much of not remembering doing anything interesting before falling asleep…

She even had some of her drinks money left, this was great. Everyone liked a present, right? So, there was a bottle to share, and… another one for the road.

So, Alambert was creeping out to meet someone at the north? Time to join them. Somewhat stealthily… just enough to get close. It would be hard to actually talk if the Grovemaster ran away before she got there…

---

After a last-minute planning session with Miina and Chisato, reminding them of the rules of engagement (the first being: don't engage unless completely unavoidable) and working out a place that they could meet up or hide messages if need be before finding the others, the trio had split their separate ways. Given a lack of information that the three had on where their quarry could be, it had left them with a host of options.

Attempting to infiltrate the cathedral, one that he figured was best left to Chisato as her target was the one with the most ties. Observation of the guards and the locals, listening to rumors, following their movements to see where they were congregating, anything that could lead to determining the Grovemasters' residences or outright locations in that way—perhaps best left to the one that could blend in as a local or outright make herself invisible. Lastly, infiltrating the Council halls themselves, finding offices, taking any information that could be useful in that way.

Naturally, Esben had assigned himself the third option.

While the security around the city overall was not terribly effective, he had noted that it was still more than had been when they first came through. The presence of guards—as well as their apparent competence at their jobs—only increased the closer one got to the major centers of the town's rule. The living tree that held the Grovemasters' chambers, as the beating heart of Drana Asnaeu's governance, was one of the most heavily guarded parts of the city. The guards made a fine show of things around the main entrance, but they were clearly patrolling the streets around it as well, smaller teams posted at various side entrances, and no doubt they would have snipers—archers, crossbowmen, possibly even riflemen if they had deigned to trade for such modern weaponry—watching various points in the vicinity.

More professional by far than Mizutani Tane's goons, if he had to guess. This wouldn't be quite so simple a task as running along the walls and stabbing a few criminals in the back. Still, he had the cover of night on his side once again, where the guards would be relying on light sources either posted or carried. As he watched the surroundings of the Council chambers from the high perch he'd climbed to, he couldn't help but note just how predictable the guards' patrols were. Predictable and gappy; unacceptably so, if it weren't for the possibility of snipers on overwatch.

Peering through a spyglass, he scanned the field once more, pausing when he caught the reflection of firelight off of metal. "As expected," he muttered. The prod of a crossbow was a hard thing to hide when it was kept so clean and polished. The guard holding it was almost invisible, the balcony they hid on cloaked in shadow and themselves draped in dark, form-obscuring clothing, but the light that caught the steel limbs and spiked bodkin bolt gave them away to anyone who knew what to look for. He followed the arc of the patrol that had just inadvertently revealed their comrade, spotting another sharpshooter a couple blocks down, and a third.

Overlapping fields of fire. At least they were being smart about it. Though, if he had to guess, judging by the way in which they all conducted themselves...perhaps the time the Kirins had spent lost in the forests had been to their advantage. They seemed less concerned about infiltration than they likely should have been.

He brought the spyglass down, pointing to the first sharpshooter. "One there, one there, and one there," he directed the eyes of his small, fey companions in turn. "Likely more, but you see the side entrance there, ja? I'm going to make my way in near there, which means those are the three we'll have to take out. Once I'm close enough I'll have the two of you distract the guards at the door to make sure they don't notice me coming in, but until then, keep yourselves dim and stay hidden."

"Right!"

"Right!"

He nodded. "I want to do this with as little death as possible. These aren't criminals or invaders, they're just doing their jobs—and I want to try and take them out simultaneously, if we can. What options do we have?" The fairies, having already dimmed themselves to the point that he could only tell they were glowing because of how dark it was, looked at each other in thought. Obviously, he was planning to physically knock one of them out; if the two could manage to remove the others at the same moment...

"I can slow one down until they fall asleep!" Selene exclaimed after a moment, earning a raised eyebrow from Esben. "You saw how Rudolf reacted when we dropped him back to normal, right? I can do that in reverse—unless they're very good at forcing themselves to stay awake, if they just keep slowing down more and more, eventually their body will just assume they're tired and—lights out!" He nodded, looking over to Eos.

"I can—"

"Make them so sick they pass out?"

Eos's cheeks flushed red as Selene began to laugh. "No fair!" she pouted, as Esben flashed a small smirk. "Alright, you two, stay dim like I said. Keep out of sight until you see me ready to work. I'll go for the far one, closest to my entrance—both of you peel off as we pass by the other two." The fairies nodded at him again, and he turned, climbing down from his perch quietly before dropping to the street.

The more organic nature of Brightlam's construction introduced an element of chaos to his route that didn't exist in any of the other places they'd been—however, from his earlier vantage point he'd already familiarized himself with the majority of the layout he needed to know, and between his sense of direction and the fact that he could send one of the fairies up higher to point him the right way if he ran into an unexpected dead end it was no difficult matter for him to make his way along and avoid the sporadic patrols as he did so. Selene split off first, staying near the first sharpshooter; Eos with the second a couple blocks later.

Esben kept to the shadows of the buildings, moving with a light, quiet step. Over the two block span, he only had to press himself into an alcove to hide once, when he'd barely overtaken the guard patrol one street over and heard them coming towards the intersection. Luckily, they continued along, turning back towards the Council building as they made their rotation.

He climbed atop the buildings again, the close-set roofs proving very easy for him to make his way over to the last sharpshooter. Off to his right, he caught the barest glimpses of green and purple lights, letting him know that Eos and Selene were watching closely, ready to tackle their own. He turned back, creeping to the edge of his roof. The sharpshooter was just below him—like the others, draped in black, this one holding a longbow rather than a crossbow or a rifle. He looked off to the streets, noting that none of the patrols were near enough to hear anything if much noise should get out, and moving away at that.

He dropped down to the balcony. The guard turned instantly, dropping the bow and reaching down to pull out a knife or a sword. Esben lunged forwards, the heel of his palm striking hard and sending the guard's head jerking up and to the side before he could yell anything out; before he could recover he had them pulled in tight, slipping behind and pulling his neck into a triangle choke. Within seconds, he was out cold—just as the fairies zoomed up beside.

"Make sure he stays out," Esben bid the pair as he let go of the guard. Selene drifted down, placing her tiny hands on either side of the man's forehead. His eyes fluttered as he started to come to as blood flow resumed to his brain, before drifting away again, far more peacefully. Once he was sure the man wouldn't wake up for a good while, he nodded, dropping back to the street, fairies in two. "Alright. We have a couple minutes here. Go get those guards distracted for me—nothing that'll draw suspicion and leave them gone from their posts, I just need some time so that I can get in through one of the windows."

The pair glanced at each other once and sped off, brightening up again once they were in the wider street. Within moments, he heard the guards—cursing about like Izayoi had been, though at least a little more good-naturedly. The people of Brightlam were familiar enough with fairies, after all, so a pair of them coming and causing a bit of mischief wasn't cause for alarm.

He went wide around, passing an extra block just to be safe. Off where the two guards were watching the side entrance, he could see the pair of them swiping at the fairies playing just out of reach; they seemed to have grabbed something of note, that they were tossing back and forth between themselves—and surreptitiously turning the guards away from the windows Esben intended to get in by. Once they were looking the other direction he sprinted the remaining distance, slipping his cutting dagger in just enough to undo the latch and force the window open so that he could climb through. He did, waited a moment as his diminutive compatriots finished having their moment with the guards, and closed the window again. Blinked the summoning spell, the fairies disappearing wherever they'd gone after messing with the guards, and reappearing next to him.

"Good work, you two," he praised them, looking about the room. Nothing special, this one—no doubt the offices would be deeper in, near where they'd all met with the Grovemasters. "Scan the halls ahead of and behind me, I don't want any surprises." With that, the trio carefully combed through the Council building. The offices of each of the Grovemasters were easy enough to find. Alambert's was fairly empty, other than his calendar detailing some of his meetings; the man didn't seem to keep much by way of notes within his. Isolde's was about as empty as he expected as well, given that she likely spent just as much time at the cathedral, though there were more than a few notes about how her lockdown was grating on the populace, and a small notepad of her own. He scanned through it quickly, frowning at some of what he read.

In Zacharias's office, there was more to be found. Some mail that the man had brought from home to work, giving Esben his home address. Details of the efforts he'd been taking to contain the Blight, organizing expeditions and cleanup crews, curiously without the aid of the other two. Then, in the man's notes...more of what he'd read in Isolde's own. It appeared that the Grovemasters weren't half the united front that they tried to present, especially if the both of them seemed to find Alambert's activities to be questionable. Ducking meetings with them, avoiding questions about how he was spending his time, roving about to parts of the city that one such as himself would normally have no business being in, all for the last few months.

"And yet she said that he could be turned," he mused to himself. Either Isolde was overconfident, blatantly lying to them, or whatever Alambert had been up to, she was getting in on it. That suspicion should now be cast on two out of the three wasn't something he'd been unprepared for, though if Miina or Chisato couldn't find something to turn the tides more in their favour, it made it more likely that things would have to end in further bloodshed.

"...Unfortunate."

"Hmm?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he bid his companions. Selene was keeping watch at the door, Eos down the hall, but both could hear him clearly enough. "Come on, let's get back out of here—I want to make my way to Zacharias's house while he's still there." Everything he'd pulled out was put back precisely where it had been, anything important already committed to memory. While he had half a mind to go and verify Cid's thoughts on the possible location of the Crystal of Water, he decided against lingering too long in the Council chambers, or risking that he might run into some fresh new threat down below if he did find the crystal.

The sharpshooters should, likely, have still been unconscious, so the best way out was the way he'd come in. He backtracked through the halls, coming back to the side room with the window. Looking outside, he could see a patrol making their way towards the door guards. He waited for them to come by, turn round and head back, giving it time for them to get far enough away, before looking back to the fairies as he slid the window open once more.

The dimmed pair slipped out, staying low, before brightening up again next to the guards.

"Oh, come on, not again!"

Somewhat exasperated, but still with some good humour about it, the pair began to try and catch their things back once again. Esben slipped out, slid the window back shut, sprinted back to the dark cover between the buildings he'd come from. Now he had only to pick his way back through the city, to the eldest Grovemaster's house, see what the guards were like there...

"Having fun?"

"Ja. How could you tell?"

Preparations were easy enough.

My face isn't known by anyone here. While it's certainly best to avoid lingering too long in their gaze, in order to avoid being remembered clearly, that gives me further flexibility with how I would approach the infiltration.

Ragged clothing. Dirt on my face, on exposed skin. A hood, ostensibly simply to keep the sun out of my eyes but also to avoid any passing glances from someone who would be able to recognize my face---

No visible weapons, as well. That's important. Of course, I'm not unarmed. It'd be foolish to go without anything at all, and I need to keep some weaponry stashed nearby depending on how the situation progresses.

The illusion of a down-on-their luck street urchin who is trying to take shelter near a religious center that may offer them some charity is hardly a difficult one to create, nor is it an unfamiliar guise for me. As such, it felt as if it was the best option. I wouldn't have to pretend to know anyone. I wouldn't have to perform any rituals or demonstrate any specific knowledge. Certainly, it's not as if I'll be allowed to enter any restricted areas, but I have other methods of securing entry.

No, instead, the guise of a street urchin is to be used for gathering information.

Certainly, there appears to be a high percentage of guards around the cathedral. That much is obvious. It's a different sort of structure than I'm entirely familiar with, but at the same time I can understand its function quite well.

Religious administration. As such, it makes sense to be one of my first stops, and the mere fact there is so much activity here made it of interest.

I can't be certain the presence of the guards is entirely abnormal, but at the same time it's my first lead.

All I need to do is remain nearby, and remain inconspicuous. It's unlikely that any ordinary guard would think anything particularly poor of a street urchin hoping for some kind of shelter or assistance by remaining near a religious center.

That also means that they might not hold their tongues so tightly in my presence. After all, I'm quite insignificant, aren't I?

There's an overhang nearby. It's not even in the direct line of sight of the nearest guards. It's a perfect place to stay out of the sun, or out of any kind of inclement weather.

A tall guard and his shorter companion are also quite close by, talking to one another. Their voices are lowered, but plenty audible for one of my kind.

They're stupid. It's idiotic to be talking about anything sensitive where anyone could hear them. Certainly, they're clearly making an effort not to be heard, but is that really all they can do?

Idiots. I suppose they're not asked to think particularly hard.

But it benefits me, regardless.

"Grovemaster doesn't seem very happy, still..."

"Locked up in her quarters like that, she must be working hard on something."

That's all I need to hear. This disguise has given me just what I needed.

Now I just need to retrieve my gear.

---

Getting back to the cathedral isn't so difficult. I have to avoid getting too close to anyone, but the rags I was wearing before still work quite well to conceal my weaponry and climbing gear.

Now I just need to find a suitable location. It can't be one of the more heavily-monitored areas, obviously, and I have to be aware of who could see me as I ascend. One of the neighboring structures is actually a better option, when it comes down to it.

It may take a little longer, but if I can reach the cathedral without having to scale it directly, then it's a much higher chance of avoiding even a passing glance in my direction. It's uncommon for guards on the ground to look up, though it's not as if I can count solely on that.

All I need to do is find a good spot.

@Raineh Daze

It took some time to follow Alambert's trail, but once Miina got ahold of it, following it the rest of the way wasn't difficult. It seemed the guards were by and large telling the truth when they'd mentioned the Grovemaster wandering about with barely any guard, only two of them following the hooded, robed Faye into a warehouse within the north of Brightlam.

The storehouse had numerous methods of entry, with small windowed alcoves in the roof, and a few doors. Whatever route Miina took, whenever she inevitably made it in, she would be greeted by the sight of one of her nation's leaders conversing with a pair of men in rich merchant's clothing, along with an entourage of apparent mercenaries in cheap armor, rushing about to and fro.

Getting closer, Alambert's next words could just barely be heard:

"...Isolde is performing her role, yes. All is ready for the attack. So long as we eliminate Zacharias and the more competent of the apprentices, this nation is ours for the taking."

___

@VitaVitaAR

Eventually, Chisato found her way to a vantage point near Brightlam Cathedral. From her position, she could spy activity both around the building and within beginning to pick up, with men and women in Cathedral knight armor beginning to muster.

Upon making her way closer, likely breaching the upper floors of the Cathedral, the shinobi would begin to hear movement convering upon a central location. Following it would have her overlook the Cathedral's grand hall, where fully four dozen church paladins stood in parade formation as Grovemaster Isolde took the pew.

"Tonight, we prove our creed, our cause, true!" She called out, surety in her tone as she looked out at her men with a steady gaze. "Those of the old order, the hidebound old men and ignorant youths alike, will be made to see the error of their ways! Before dawn, Zacharias will be stripped of his rank, and made to recant any and all divinity of the Eidolons! The Mother and the gods need no such archaic spirits to enact their will, only we of man! May this mark a new dawn for our faith, our nation! May this mark the end of the deceit of Bahamut and his ilk!"

___

@The Otter

Contrary to his rank, Grovemaster Zacharias lived within a simple cottage on the outskirts of Brightlam. His only concession to luxury was the relative solitude and guard his home was placed under, located within an idyllic forest clearing and surrounded by several guard posts within the trees. Moreover, the crystal Cid gave Esben shone with a renewed radiance until it was fully covered: this entire grove was holy ground.

In contrast to the rest of the city, though, Zacharias's personal guard seemed to be on no heightened alert at all, completely disregarding the edicts of Grovemaster Isolde. If Zacharias believed the Kirins were a threat, the state of his patrols didn't reflect it at all. Only this allowed Esben to sneak through the twenty elite guards surrounding the grove, and approach the cottage within.

Inside was as humble as outside, with small handcarved knickknacks and amateur oil paintings lining the walls and shelves. Combing through the entire hovel, top to bottom, Zacharias was nowhere to be found. Even the bedroom was empty. It was only when Esben stood before the bed that the door behind him shut, the aforementioned Grovemaster stepping forward as his invisibility spell faded.

"Know that the only reason you yet live is because I know you are not that woman's pawn." Zacharias glared at Esben with obvious dislike, a white-knuckled grip on his staff. "No blade is in your hands. You did not come to kill me. Yet. Talk, then. I fear I'll not be rid of you without the use of violence until you exhaust your frivolous words."

___

@vietmyke @HereComesTheSnow @Click This

"We have a problem." Izayoi strode into the hideout, her usual kimono replaced with worn and ragged beggar's clothing, dirt and soot smudged across her face and hands. Her cloak shifted aside to reveal two things in her hands: a bloodstained wakizashi and a Valheimr officer's ranking insignia.

"I'd begun to make inquiries with the beggars, but one of them recognized me almost immediately. He said nothing, but bade to follow. It was a trap. I sprung it." She hurled the insignia onto the floor: a lieutenant's bar. "Valheim's shadows have already breached the city. When questioned, he insinuated that the Grovemasters were at risk before he expired."

A significant look towards Galahad and Eliane alike.

"Our timetable has accelerated. Should we tarry, we risk a repeat of Balmung Castle." She made her way over towards the pile of gear, starting to change back into her usual arms and armor without care for modesty.