---

"You know we're not her pawns, you know you're having problems with her and her ilk, and yet still you threaten me? My, Zacharias, you are a bold one." There was almost a hint of approval in Esben's voice. He was unsurprised to find the man practicing his invisibility; short of Zacharias being in a deep sleep, he hadn't expected to come upon him unaware, and the man wasn't as sneaky as he thought even with the spell.

There was simply nowhere else he could have been, and Esben was simply too confident to waste any more time with it.

He pulled out the glowing crystal he had received from Cid, studying it for a moment. "So, you know we're not her pawns. Clearly, there's little love lost between the two of you. Perhaps you suspect she may have betrayed us, yes?" He flicked his cloak, letting the two fairies that had been hiding within it fly out. "Watch the windows, you two," he bid, and they floated off to comply. Zacharias's reaction had given him something to think about.

This wasn't just the work of a man who was ready and alert for an infiltration from him or the other Kirins. Zacharias almost looked panicked. White-knuckled, openly glaring, but obviously hiding. The guards weren't alert at all, worse than the ones around the Council chambers. "The arrogance is remarkable, isn't it? They don't even think about us. You, me, we're just targets. Not intelligent, thinking beings that can pick apart what they're planning. Seems like that's the mistake they always make, when they get too satisfied with their plans."

Isolde's obvious betrayal, the fracturing within the Cathedral, Alambert's strange meetings and the fact that he and Isolde seemed at least tenuously allied; Zacharias, the one at odds to both, most opposed to the Kirins, most at risk once the other foe seemed reasonably well dealt with. "I was going to offer you to meet with us, with my guarantee that nothing would happen to you. My protection. But now...were you waiting for your own guards to come in and try to apprehend you, I wonder? We may not have time just to talk things over, if so." He held the crystal up for the elder man's view.

"If you won't trust me, you can hear it from Cid himself in the short time we have—talk about something more than your relationship troubles, for a change. I'm sure he'll remind you just why he encouraged you to accept the apprenticeship, though, despite the doubts you had at the time. He still has faith that you'll make the right choices, eventually...though I doubt he expected that your compatriots would force your hand."

---How dare she.

The entire future of her nation, of all the people of her nation, of the people of every nation, is in the balance.

And yet, she's here, standing here, talking to these knights of hers as if nothing else matters. As if whatever petty delusion has crawled into the rattling, shriveled thing she's claiming to be a brain is far more important then countless lives.

I've killed plenty of foolish targets who placed some stupid desire of theirs before their nation. They cared for no lives but their own, and thus they lost it.

This is no different, except in its magnitude. Her entire country is at risk---

There is no speaking to this woman. There is no reasoning with this woman. I am a shinobi, so such things were never my duty, but no-one would be able to reach this Grovemaster Isolde when she's already sunken into---

... It has been a little time since I carried out a duty like this. I normally keep any feelings far away. They only get in the way of my mission.

Perhaps that is just how foolish this woman truly is.

But this isn't something as base as feelings getting in the way of the correct course of action in order to fulfill my duty.

The parameters given to me were quite clear. I was not here to kill, unless no other choice was viable.

There is no other choice.

To allow this to go on would be actively contradictory to my assignment. It would practically guarantee the fall of another nation.

The rafters were the perfect spot to enter, and I was already close to her balcony to begin with so I would better be able to hear her speak. They're well-maintained, so I can move along them easily. It's not as if I would make sound to begin with, but the fact the wood is in good condition means that there's little risk of anything unexpected occurring. The knights are focused on the Grovemaster, and the Grovemaster is focused on her speech.

I can get closer.

I have to get closer.

I will only have a single opportunity to ensure that the greatest threat in the room is removed, after all.

Relying on a thrown kunai is too risky. I have faith in my aim, but the mere chance it could wound rather then kill is too great. I have to make absolutely certain there is no recovery. And that means that I have to be as direct as I can.

I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my katana, and slowly draw it from its place on my hip.

The angle. The trajectory of my fall. I calculate these as I near her, scenarios refining themselves in my head again and again.

Here.

Even if she looks up, it will be too late.

It's not unfamiliar.

My feet leave the rafters, and push me out into open air. It rushes around me, the colors of my scenery blurring and running together like spilled ink.

I've approached from this angle before. Killed at the end of a fall, using my momentum to take my target to the ground and thrust my blade through their throat.

This isn't any different.

To me, she is nothing but the same pompous, self-centered, and petty nobility I've exterminated before.

For the sake of her country, and everyone within it.

If Isolde truly cared for her people, then she would know this is the right path. If she were truly a Grovemaster of Drana Asanaeu, then she would see that these actions will only bring pain and destruction upon her people, even if Valheim's approach wasn't imminent. The fact she has engaged in such actions means that she does not appreciate her position, her situation, and she does not care for her country.

And so, the only answer she deserves is obvious.

In my free hand, I draw a smoke bomb from my pouch. The magical energy required to ignite its fuse passes into it, setting it alight as I reach the balcony. By the time I land, it should have gone off.

Will she look towards me?

Will she see me before the blow reaches her?

It doesn't matter. There's nothing she can do, now. The space between us is shrinking far too swiftly. All she will be able to comprehend is the fact that the answer to her words is the swift approach of death.

The edge of my blade glints in the lights of the massive hall as it reaches for her throat.

@Psyker Landshark

At the sight of the Valheimr insignia, now unmistakable to any of them by sight, a shot of ice ran through Rudolf's blood. He listened carefully to the clipped, staccato rhythm of Izayoi's report, a ball of lead dropping from his throat to his stomach.

"... Did he specify which, or do we assume it's all of them?" he asked, throwing the rags he'd draped over his greatsword to the floor. They had already been long aware of the distinct possibility that Valheim's threads had been woven into the broader fabric of Brightlam, as they had Osprey, as they had been into Balmung Castle itself... but there was a difference, inside you, between a suspicion and confirmation. His hands were already moving, grabbing hold of the Wings, bringing his sword to bear. For a moment, he thought to similarly discard his cloak... but no. Sword and cape. The extra fabric could prove useful, especially when he was already light on gear. Unlike Izayoi. He turned, needing to gather his belongings into a tight bundle to begin with.

A lot of sleepless nights had seen him grow very seasoned at quickly gathering what he owned.

"Either way. If Valheim's here and trying to trap us by sight, then splitting up's no good for the four of us. Do we head for the cathedral? It'd make sense that at least one of them would be there, right?"

His mind, meanwhile, was set on bargaining.

I think we're past the point of disguising ourselves. May as well get ready for the worst.¹

There was a twinge within his breast, but the familiar weight didn't settle into a full return. He bit down a snarl— the silver lining of it all being the distraction that spike of frustration served for the stakes they were about to run into. The knife on his belt, the twinned swords in his hands, the dull weight on his back... All like a part of him had been missing.

Really. Who are we fooling? She's going to be rushing out in full battle dress, we may as well leverage all the power we can... damn you.

Fine. It'd be what it'd be. They needed anything but bogging down further. Focus, Rudolf. Don't spiral, don't get stuck in, focus on what's ahead and which way means forward.

He crept to the entrance of the hovel, gilded eyes scanning around them.

"We're still clear to ship out... while we've got the moment, at any rate."

---

---

• _{1. If you want to talk to somebody who'll so casually bare themselves just for the sake of an imminent fight, you turn right back around and look at the widow while you prattle at her and the dragoon and the fusilier. I'm still cognizant of the raw number of high-level white mages surrounding me. You'd better sweeten the deal or I'd better see no better options.}

"Don't kill the Grovemasters, Miina"; "it's going to destabilise things, Miina"… see? You just made it an assassination plot from the start, it massively simplified everything. Hm, maybe she wouldn't have spent the entire day in bars if that was the case… it possibly wasn't an entire loss, then. Still, the end goal was exactly what the Mystrel had wanted to do in the first place.

As for her entry into the warehouse, it was naturally through the roof. The warehouses were even conveniently open at the top! Well, not open-open, but really, windows? You might as well have left an open door up here, especially when everybody was making so much noise down there… it made it really easy to find a good point in the rafters to listen and, perhaps, make an entrance from.

Or, in this case, consider assassination from.

At least she had left the extra drinks outside. If things looked good, she could have gone back and fetched them but now… well, it would be nice to have something for when she was done in here. Hmm, what was this warehouse even storing? Grain? Oh, cleaning up here would be even easier, there was just the minor issue of… Adalbert? Albert? Alembic? That Grovemaster, first.

Now, she had on her person a knife and not much else, and she wanted to make sure this man died and didn't have chance to heal. Miina didn't have huge, destructive magic on call, certainly not faster than an elite White Mage… but she could, with certainty, kill a single man. It was just a shame it wasn't Isolde she was getting to use this on. Hmm, and had she ever shown the other Kirins this trick? Maybe as an exercise in control, but the redhead was a bit disappointed to not get to show off.

Frost gleaming on her blade, Miina rolled off the rafter, plummeting towards Alambert without warning. Compared to a certain rabbit's controlled dive, it could be considered more of a loose drop, but that made it no less deadly when she had been watching from above. Besides which, the cat didn't need nearly as much of a solid strike as the rabbit.

Oh, a good stab would make it much easier, faster, and quicker. A tiny little nick mightn't even be enough. But most everything in between? This tiny seed of ice magic was enough to start freezing blood on contract, which would freeze more blood and tissue, and so on and so forth in a beautiful controlled flower…

Just one that tended to leave not much of a torso left. She hoped that not being able to breathe, talk, or… well, not having a beating heart would stop such things as "casting healing magic".

---

Galahad glanced and blinked as the Valheim rank- a small bar of gold plated brass clattered on the floor. They were already here. They'd probably been here the whole time, even when the Kirins had first entered Drana. They were no doubt aware of our posters being spread throughout the city and took this as their chance to strike. Did Isolde have a part in this? Or any of the other Grovemasters for that matter? It probably mattered little in the end- it seemed that violence and turmoil would be gracing Brightlam one way or another.

"Well, that escalated quickly." Galahad noted humorlessly as Izayoi went for her gear. He turned and grabbed his pack as well, tossing Eliane hers. No more time for subtlety, it seemed. Esben would probably despair. Galahad's dragonhide was pulled over his clothes, metal clanking and glittering as he grabbed the blued steel of his armor and began to attach his plates to his body.

"We need a way of alerting the others- or pull them out of whatever trouble they may have found themselves in." Galahad cursed, "But I imagine the sounds of fighting might eventually draw their attention anyway."

Galahad glanced over at Rudolf, listening to his thoughts, but offering a wry frown as he shook his head.

"I understand the intention- but I'm not sure I agree. We ought split up. If the Grovemasters are in peril, it falls on us to rescue them- or if they're involved, to stop their plans. Furthermore, our party is already split- Esben, Chisato and Miina, they're all on their own right now- they might need the support." Galahad grunted as he hefted his halberd, spinning it in his hand. "Chisato," Galahad said as he glanced over at Izayoi, "She was tasked with Isolde- I imagine you'll go after her, right? I'll go with you."

---

Éliane had found being in her disguise thoroughly unpleasant. Although she had not removed it in the hideout out of prudence, from the way that she fidgeted in place at her seat, it was clear that she was looking for any excuse to get out of her mottled brown cloak and to properly suit up in uniform with the full array of her weapons.

So when Izayoi strode into their safehouse with purpose, she immediately stood up, picking up on her demeanor. The moment she saw the Valheimian insignia hit the floor, the pink-haired Skaeller immediately scowled. “Of course it’s those bastards. They have their hands in everything!” Exclaiming in exasperation, her expression quickly turned almost feral.

“No more excuses now, then?” Not waiting for a response, she was already moving towards her weapons, gladly accepting her pack tossed at her by Galahad with an appreciative nod. Whether it was one or all of them, Éliane was going to take any excuse to deal with the grovemaster problem.

“The sounds of fighting will do,” she agreed as she threw off her cloak, stripping before slipping into more appropriate gear. “I won’t be hard to find.” Belting her weapons on, she mulled over the Edrenian’s words before nodding as well, checking her guns one last time for their condition. “In that case, Rudolf will need to split too to cover Miina and Esben. I’ll head to him.”

@vietmyke @HereComesTheSnow @Click This

A quick, curt nod in Galahad's direction before she looked to Eliane and Rudolf.

"If you can find each of them, then go. Galahad and I will make for the Cathedral. Without a doubt, at least one of the Grovemasters will be there."

She looked back to Galahad.

"In the worst case situation, you will be faster to extract Chisato. I will cover your escape if needed." A wry, sardonic smirk. "I would be the louder distraction, either way."

___

@VitaVitaAR

The strike was perfect. The tip of Chisato’s katana plunged into Isolde’s throat with brutal efficiency, the smoke bomb detonating at virtually the same time the light left Isolde’s eyes.

Within the great hall, the iconoclast templars stared in mute shock for a moment, the speed of the assassination combined with the thick smoke taking them all off guard.

”ASSASSIN!” The first cry came out, even as the knight who uttered it choked on smoke.

”The Grovemaster has fallen!”
”Who-how-”
”That was an outlander! They must be in league with Zacharias!”

”Depose Zacharias! Avenge Isolde! Kill Zacharias!”
”KILL ZACHARIAS! KILL ZACHARIAS!"

Minutes later, those paladins loyal to Isolde could be seen marching out of Brightlam Cathedral in lockstep, those not of Isolde’s iconoclasm staring after them in shock, wondering what in the gods’ name was happening. By the time Izayoi and Galahad were in sight, they could hear the last of Isolde's knights screaming oaths to avenge their leader as they marched for what was presumably Zacharias's location.

___

@The Otter

"I have little choice at this point, don't I?" Zacharias murmured bitterly, his glare not abating. "I believe most of the men stationed around this grove are loyal. Most. Someone in my personal staff has been leaking information to Isolde and her faction, but I've not yet been able to pin them down."

The old man looked out the window, the guards outside showing no sign of alert.

"They aren't on guard because I've instructed them to stand down. My own source among Isolde's staff informs me she intends to make a decisive move tonight. There are contingencies in place around this home, but against the fifty or so knights she has on her side?" Zacharias shook his head. "At best, I would force a pyrrhic victory out of her. If you have an idea to extricate us from this situation, I would hear it. Or even to simply alert your companions. The grove's defenses are under my control. Should they assist, I can ensure they are not harmed. I swear it upon our mutual relationship with Cid."

___

@Raineh Daze

By all accounts, it should have worked. It would have worked, had steel not flashed in Alambert's hands at the last moment, a dagger meeting Miina's ice knife just before it made contact.

"Well, well." Alambert's voice shifted between words, his tone becoming...higher-pitched? "How sloppy of me!" He(?) shoved Miina out of the air and to the ground, his other hand throwing his cloak off to reveal a completely different face, gender, and race, being a blonde Sollan woman in dark Skaelan attire, grinning down smugly at the red mage. "Aren't you the one of the little wretches on the all-points bulletin? And to think I wasn't even trying to catch you!"

At her side, the two Dranan guards started in shock, drawing blades at the face who dared to replace their Grovemaster, only for gunshots to ring out from the remainder of the mercenaries in the warehouse. The man in the lead lowered his gunblade, looking at the apparent spy without amusement.

"Your cover is blown, Loki. Once Alambert returns without his guards, there'll be investigations. We need to make our move, now. Hopefully your idiot patsy plays her part."

"Now, now, Lanius. You're giving everything away to our guest here! Be a good dog of Valheim and heel." The woman, Loki, giggled, her knife still raised. "Shall we silence her now, or keep her around for questioning? Doubtful that this waif knows anything of value, but we might be able to lure the others in. I need that SEED with them alive to get at Lambert, after all~"

... What? Alambert was definitely a guy, wasn't he? Not some blonde woman who was... after some Lambert? Or was that another Lambert? Seed? Where would she even have kept a seed, she didn't have all that much on her. For a long second, the redhead just gave everyone still standing in the warehouse a blank stare as if trying to weigh up the odds of actually getting an explanation, then discarded it. Someone doing a clandestine meeting would just want to dispose of the awkward interference anyway.

So, back to her original escape plan, as it didn't seem to matter whether everyone died or not now; Alambert was already out of the picture. She just needed to kick the flour up.

Maybe she could have done it with black magic alone. The Mystrel was aware that she really ought to push herself more on pure casting... but now wasn't the time to experiment, was it? Especially as she wanted as much flour hanging in the air as possible, as far as possible.

Black magic for wind, white magic for haste. Hold them separated, balance the forces -- and let the thin shell of spinning wind she had created grow into a mightier vortex. Would it knock over some of the mercenaries? Just imbalance them? Or would they ignore it? Miina had no idea; they certainly seemed on the competent end. But they weren't the important ones here: no, it was the loose flour from old shipments, and the sacks and casks it was packed into, ready to be distributed across Brightlam after being milled outside.

It was nowhere near as intense as the hurricane that Izayoi had demonstrated, nor as long lasting, but it didn't need to be. A brief and horrendous gale was enough to whip a fine screen of powder into the air. Maybe enough of a smokescreen for Miina to sneak out on her own but...

Back in Costa del Sol, she had learned a few things about goods storage and where to be careful, especially when you were tempted to throw around fire. Powders? They burned shockingly well. With the entire air mixed well like this...

It wasn't a big fire. It didn't need to be. The flour mix in the air did the rest -- erupting into an entire conflagration that consumed the room. Maybe sshe might even get lucky and catch some of the enemies. Buffing herself to be fire resistant had nearly been an afterthought.

... She would need to fix her hearing properly once she could get out. That was loud, remember it. Or maybe it was the lack of air leaving her light-headed?

The redhead made a break for the door, hoping to get out in the confusion and not get trapped in a flaming warehouse.

"... I'll handle Miina, then. Stay safe, people. Good hunting."

Hardly ideal as he saw it, but they didn't have time to fight on the issue— not with Valheim already on the move. Galahad and Izayoi both trumped him in wartime experience— if this was their perception, smart money bet on it sooner than his. He nodded, and the four of them bounded out of the hovel in short order— the pair of veterans beelining for the Cathedral towards the city's center, whereas for him and Eliane...

The snapping report of distant gunfire sounded, bouncing off the mazelike corridors their hideout had been tucked away within. They were too en masse to be anything but Valheim at work— part of his extensive lesson that night outside Ramuh's domain had included his pink-haired teacher's opinion that differentiating factions by the report of their weapons was paramount; before now, they'd all been more or less the same broad-brushstroke "boom" to his ears. He doubted he could tell the manufacturing difference in timbre, but caliber and quantity had been fairly intuitive once he'd been made to think about it. No other faction would both be here and reasonably expected to muster that many.

And it wasn't coming from the cathedral, either, but rather to the northern edge of the city. They'd both quickly concluded that Esben wasn't likely to get into a shootout, especially not without at least utilizing the concealed gun in that buckler of his— leaving only one realistic assumption that could be made.

Just hang tight, Miina...

There was a brief moment of weightlessness, as the cloaked swordsman sprung off the rooftop, and across the narrow gap between Brightlam's buildings.

He'd split off a few minutes ago, rapidly firing off a plan to grab their diminutive counterpart, then hopefully link up with Eliane and Esben or, failing that, falling back to the Cathedral to back up Izayoi, Galahad, and Chisato. Truthfully, the words had spilled out almost in time with the thoughts as he'd had them. Hopefully it had come out coherent. He was in a rush.

Landing, he wasted no time in sprinting across the terra cotta shingling of a quaint general store before leaping again, this time onto a lower-hanging, but sturdy branch of one of the larger trees that dotted the arboreal city. Due to the growing tumult below, this was his fastest option— he and the others had been neck-deep in the throng more than long enough during their information gathering phase to know how clogged it got down there. Time being of the essence, he'd have to just eat whatever attention this garnered. Best he could do was to stick to the more shaded parts of the upper highway, and, to Brightlam's credit, they did hate their open skies¹.

...

Perhaps it was the lingering sensation of the battle with Leviathan. A phantom pain at the edge of his movement, invisible shackles on a mind that had only once touched upon the Godspeed, but even as he bounded with all the agility his body could muster, Rudolf couldn't shake the sensation that he was still a little slower than he'd been before the Trial of Tides.

But whether he had lost speed, nerve, or nothing at all, soon enough his path towards trouble had taken him to a warehouse, and an opened window near the roof that he could hear a great clamor leaking out of, multiple voices from within carrying the wrong accent for this place—

His eyes narrowed, as he crept closer. It had been a pretty simple task for an athlete of his caliber to get up there, and he was better than most at doing it quietly. Another of the upsides to how light his armor was...

He could hear it, far below. Clanking metal, ill-fitted armor, drawn swords. On the air, a sharp, lightly sweet, scent. Cordite, if he'd remembered Eliane's lesson right— a primary propellant for bullets. He'd found the source of his gunshots.

He swallowed his nerves, forcing them down into his gullet and slowly exhaling. He needed to play this right, it sounded like there were a lot of them in there, busy as bees. A hornet's nest someone had just taken a bat to. Sure enough, the next few seconds were assaulted by the telltale roar of raging wind², buffeting the steel walls and rushing out of the window. She was down there, in the middle of all that racket— and as quick as it had spooled up, the dervish inside had again abated. He had to get moving!

He steeled his nerve, and made for the rafters. First things first— get a lay of the land below, get his eyes on Miina... then figure out how to get the both of them out of this.

Quiet as he could muster, the leather-clad warrior vaulted through the ajar windowsill, and landed... into a field of white. The place was a granary, and it had been thoroughly kicked up until every surface was dusted by that whirlwind of hers. An ample smokescreen if there ever was one, but of all the rotten luck on the timing! He wouldn't be able to pick her out through all this any better than—

Wait. Flour?

"Oh no."

His heart dropped past the pit of his stomach, as a lone point of orange painted itself upon the white cloud, a mote of flame that had met two things upon its birth— still air, and a surplus of stuff it could burn.³ Had he any room left to assuage those prior concerns of not being at top form, he may have taken solace in catching it the instant before total bedlam—

— but as things were, it was all the man on the rafters could do to wrench his greatsword in front of him, keep it wrapped behind the thick fabric of his cloak, and brace it against himself while he desperately exhaled.

And then, the earth ripped open and its fiery blood spewed forth, as though the dawn of creation. Were the wind from before deafening, the sound alone of the blast rang through all the steel, all the muscle, and all the bone of his body, a mighty hammer to the flat of his blade, smashing into ribs as Rudolf was sent through the roof—

And into the cold of the open air again. Through ringing ears and grit teeth, he found the focus to force his eyes open as he felt the familiar hold of weightlessness take hold of his body. Below him, a curtain of thick smoke, ringed by more of that orange-yellow flame... And no way of knowing where Miina, or whatever was left of her quarry, had ended up through that.

A short breath out, as the vertigo ended. His lungs burned, but luckily weren't shredded by the wave of sound and heat when it had slammed into his sword. His arms ached like hell, but were working— the adrenaline of impact seeing to whatever debilitating effects might have come from the contact with flash-fried steel. Sagramori were the folk of wildfires, of eruptions, of the flame of Himstus itself— training amongst them, he had weathered the blaze of their blood long enough to shrug off a few burns. He drew his knife from his belt as he began to fall again, angling his body. He had, miraculously, not lost his white-knuckled grip on the fell blade that'd shielded him.

He had a job to do, and a friend to bail out. In a way this was lucky— the access route to his red mage and her hunt was now as simple as it got:

Just head down.

Blades drawn, Rudolf seemed to slice through the smoke as he fell, biting at the edge of his thoroughly-ruined outerwear and pulling it, as best he could, over his mouth and nose. Far from perfect, but some form of filtration was better than none. He had to ensure he could extend each breath as long as it'd muster until the blaze began to die.

And sure enough, beneath the curtain, pandaemonium awaited him.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting past the stinging haze, searching for form, for frame, for sihlouettes against the grey and orange that smothered the interior— finding many, but none nearly as short as he was looking for. Armored man, armored man, armored man, where the hell was Miina?

Finally, there was a stern tamp as his boots hit the floor, and the dazed mercenaries suddenly found another unfamiliar presence in their midst, licking, smoldering orange embers at the edges of his form—

And then it burst into motion, a sabretooth's fang tearing at the throat of the nearest man-at-arms and wrenching his exsanguinating corpse off its feet and into another two, before only hurried footsteps remained as it sprinted off into the gloom. Rudolf's eyes strained, trying to make sense of the chaos, and his ears fought to deaden the ringing and pick apart voices again. They didn't seem to enjoy the same enhancement suite as Isolde's Paladins, so maybe Alambert was incapacitated, or worse—

Either way.⁴

He needed to find her, and run like hell before these guys could regroup!

---

---

• _{1. I get it.}
• _{2. Now that he mentions it, the little thing has been steadfastly working on some sort of gambit involving Aero when they're off doing their respective things at camp. I didn't really note it much— If you'll recall, I've been trying to stay quiet lately.}
• _{3. Never thought I'd say it, but credit where it's due to the little bastard— the answer was "dust explosion", and he got there before me. Embarassing. I'm going to blame it on nobody kicking up dust in my part of the ruins before him for five hundred years— that or generational trauma from when his family were hapless copper miners up in the highlands. I like that one too, it gives me extra reason I don't respect him.}
• _{4. I'm keeping my sense for shifts in the aether as peeled as I can. Either we find some hint of the little mystrel, or I get as early a warning as I can about that Grovemaster kicking around. I do not want Rudolf here any longer than we need him here.}

---

Esben could at least appreciate that Zacharias had set defenses around his home and planned to go down swinging—the man was right that it would likely be nothing more than a pyrrhic victory, but in the absence of any interference to his benefit, martyring himself would likely have better effect than trying to run, especially if any of his apprentices made it out to try and act as rebel leaders. Unlike with his prior debate about whether or not to rescue Hien, however, the takeover had not been successful yet. Zacharias had a benefit that the old Ospreyan leadership didn't have, having someone competent and divorced from the internal struggles able to help him.

As much as Esben hated being on the defending side of a siege...

"What defenses?"

"I've made a minefield of the grounds, I have emplacements set to unleash fire upon them, and I can call upon Ramuh if need be," came the surly reply.

"You too? I imagine you can probably keep him here longer than I can." Ignoring the mixture of shock and outrage playing across Zacharias's face, while the incredulous Grovemaster's mouth moved trying to find words to speak in response, Esben raised the crystal he'd been given by Cid again. This time he focused on it, the inert matrix starting to glow with its own inner light—and in seconds, Cid appeared between the two of them.

He wasted no time on greetings before getting right down to business. "Cid, I need to know the situation back at the cathedral. If Isolde's there with her paladins, if they're planning anything, or if they've already left entirely."

Cid left as abruptly as he'd teleported in, reappearing nearly thirty seconds later. He remained silent, his expression grave as he handed a familiarly gnarled branch of enchanted wood to Zacharias, identical to the Grovemaster's own staff. After giving the latter a moment to process it, he spoke.

"I'd caught but a glimpse: forty or fifty paladins screaming for your head. Evidently, they think you have a hand in this.

"Stupid, stupid girl." Zacharias closed his eyes in frustration and mourning. "She's suborned nearly half of the knights to her side, then.

"Ah. Unavoidable, then." The expression on Cid's face and the staff made the situation perfectly clear. After the fight they'd had with Isolde and just a few of the paladins, if she had been whipping them up into a frenzy, then it was no surprise at all that Chisato would have removed her in an instant; he could only hope that the diminutive ninja had managed to escape the aftermath unscathed. "Hopefully Alambert isn't similarly compromi—"

He was cut off as the sound of gunfire in the distance reached the grove. His eyes narrowed; too many firing at once to be Éliane, or at least to be just Éliane. That the sound of a larger explosion followed shortly thereafter didn't do much to tell him who the cause may have been, but if such things were happening, from a different direction than the cathedral itself—it was too much to be a coincidence.

He spat out some old Skaeller curse under his breath, turning back to Cid and Zacharias. "Alright. Zacharias, I'm sure they're expecting you to play the stubborn old fool and stay here waiting to meet them in combat. Normally, I'd suggest getting you out of here, but with one down we may be able to cut this off before it has the chance to grow too much. Cid, is there any sort of signal you can give for the rest to know exactly where we are? A pillar of Ifrit's flame seems exceedingly obvious, but it might give the paladins pause to think that Zacharias here is setting up for a greater confrontation than they expect—or just drive them to rush in unprepared, with the rest of the Kirins hot on their heels. Either possibility can be turned to our favour, unless you have something more subtle?"

---

"I'll take the fact that they're saying 'avenge Isolde' to mean that our little friend has taken it upon herself to handle Isolde how she saw fit." Galahad mused as they observed the marching paladins- a part of him was almost disappointed they wouldn't have their final confrontation with Isolde, it would certainly be more poetic, after their less than dignified retreat. Ah well, Galahad supposed it was easier this way- the paladins would lead them straight to Zacharias- and presumably Esben.

The last time they faced off with Isolde's paladins, they were exhausted and worn down from their fight with Leviathan. Now they were fresh, relatively speaking. Galahad debated their chances of taking on fifty knights between the two of them for a moment before dashing the idea. As much as he enjoyed the idea of potentially seeing just how powerful these paladins were... perhaps fifty to two were odds a bit *too* unbalanced out of their favor.

"The fact that none of their blades are bloodied probably means Chisato got away without incident." Galahad mused as he glanced towards the Cathedral. "If we can regroup with her, we can follow the Paladins to their destination, and strike them from behind."

Trying his best to keep the paladins out of eyesight, Galahad lifted his halberd, letting the light glint off his blade. Surely Chisato's sharp eyes would catch sight of them, or perhaps she had a bird's eye view and had already spotted them.

The serpent dies, its head severed.

A spray of crimson erupts as I slide my blade from the failed Grovemaster's throat.

There's no regret. There's no remorse.

Why should I feel such things? I'm not trained to.

Besides, trading one life of greed and hunger for power for the lives of countless innocent people is a perfectly fair trade. Who would possibly dispute that?

By the time the smoke has faded, I've already left.

The serpent's death throes spill onto the street. Isolde's Paladins aren't acting as a cohesive fighting force, but as an instrument of blind rage. Even I can see that much.

The entry point I used is still open, the arched window a path out into the open air.

I can see the armored figures shouting wildly, filing onto the streets and blaming someone who had no involvement with their leader's death.

At times, such a result was actually the desired one.

But this was not one of those times. They can still cause untold damage, still destroy the lives of the innocent people living here.

I can't allow that.

But at the same time, I can't face fifty armored paladins by myself. I only have a limited number of explosives, too. I couldn't carry them all with my disguise.

---Ah. That shine.

That's the blade of a halberd.

Maybe one of the Edreni men isn't completely useless, at least.

I'll take a route over the nearest buildings and reach him.

---

Éliane had parted from Rudolf midway with a two-fingered salute. While she was hardly as efficient as Galahad, she bounded off in the direction of Esben’s planned target, utilizing the city’s more unique architecture, managing a semblance of how she traversed the rooftops of Solitude in urgent pursuit by means of wind materia.

Even midway through the city, she could tell that the situation was developing not necessarily to the favor of the Kirins, by the chaos and noise that was starting to erupt in the streets. Just from the explosions and sounds of gunfire from the direction that Rudolf had gone, she could tell that something hadn’t gone right… but also made her wish that she had swapped places with the man instead of heading to Esben. The fact that there was no chaos and fighting ahead of her didn’t mean much given the developing situation. While she was anticipating a good fight, she debated over what she was going to expect.

Midway through, it occurred that she didn’t have a good idea how exactly to even find Esben. It wasn’t guaranteed that he was still at the council offices, and with the situation in the city, he could have been in any number of places now.

Well, she knew that the spy was a resourceful fellow. If he needed help, surely there would be some kind of signal.

Failing that, she could always head directly to the very obvious gunfire.

"Agreed." Izayoi nodded tersely in response to Galahad, her gaze not leaving the knights' backs. "Much as I would like to show them the disparity between us when they aren't benefiting from outside enhancement, two or three against fifty is poor odds." Even in her prime, she wouldn't have went in alone and without a plan versus four dozen of a nation's elites.

As Galahad signaled Chisato, Izayoi waited for the party's newest member to appear before nodding to her.

"Judging by the knights' outrage, I would assume Isolde lies dead, then? Good. Let us pursue her followers, and strike when they are distracted. Evidently, they believe you to be Zacharias's agent, Chisato."

___

@Raineh Daze @HereComesTheSnow

Nobody was expecting a flour explosion. That much was evident. Loki and the Valheimr coughed and recoiled, those closest to ground zero blown away by the blast.

"Damn it!" The man named Lanius choked, desperately waving away the dust and smoke in the air. "Find the girl! Our half of the operation is finished if word gets out!" He commanded his men. As the dust cleared, some of the disguised Valheimr caught wind of Miina fleeing while Rudolf appeared, and drew guns.

"And your men using guns in the middle of the night won't?" Loki laughed in her partner's direction, mocking. "We've already attracted yet more attention!" She pointed in Rudolf's direction, drawing her knives. "Deal with the boy, I'll play with the girl." She moved to vault over Rudolf, clearly intent on chasing after Miina, a brace of blades thrown in at the fleeing mystrel's back. Meanwhile, a trio of Valheimr in mercenary armor charged Rudolf, gunblades raised for melee after hearing Loki's admonishment.

___

@The Otter @Click This

Minutes later, the stirrings of conflict could be heard at the edges of Zacharias's grove. His guards werely quickly overwhelmed and slaughtered by the infuriated paladins, and they rushed the clearing, only to be met by magical turrets and mines. Shields were raised, both physical and magical, and the knights began advancing, with a mere one or two having been lost to the initial salvo.

Within the cottage, Cid nodded at Esben, gesturing for Zacharias to join him.

"Come, then. I daresay we could make a good accounting of ourselves. Just like old times, no?"

Zacharias could only respond with a sigh, setting Isolde's staff aside before gripping his own and following after. "Do you intend to take the field in your full strength?"

"For such as this? It won't be needed, so long as the remainder of his companions arrive to support us."

"Them? Of all people?" Zacharias huffed in disgust still, to which Cid could only shake his head childingly.

"You think too little of them, my old, young friend. After all, at this rate, it won't be the Grovemasters saving this land anytime soon."

Outside, twin pillars of flame and levin arose, visible across the city at large. Ifrit and Ramuh revealed themselves in their full glory, prepared for war.

@VitaVitaAR @vietmyke

It was at this point that Izayoi, Galahad, and Chisato caught up to the knights' rear guard, undetected. Isolde's men had bigger problems to their front to deal with, after all. Who would dare to strike from the rear at this moment?

His eyes stung.

Rudolf's frantic search of the remains of the warehouse had revealed to him only more of the same— shredded ironworks, scattered bodies, and thick, choking haze, painted crimson by flame where night alone would have seen it a cold, dry black. Hardly a great situation to begin with, but now that he'd dropped into the thick of things, he was certain of the sense he'd gotten from those precious few moments up above the rafters—

A flash of light from his peripheral, sudden brightness muted by the dust even as the bullet it sent carved an instant's track through, drawing the vague idea of a line towards him before he managed to get his heftier blade in its path. The impact registered through his grip and pauldron, the pinging sound that he'd come to associate with knocking bullets off course ringing out and reaching his ears. He suspected that the echoes of all the gunfire would have driven everyone inside nuts if the building was intact. Either way... he grit his teeth as he about-faced, torquing his course through the ankle into a rough shoulder check, bowling the rifleman over before he could loose another shot. His hearing was back in working enough order.

"...al with the boy, I'll play with the girl." an unfamiliar yet cruel voice sneered, followed up shortly by the pounding of boots against tile. By his count, three, coming to swarm from further ahead.

Not three, four. Trying to find one way to skin a cat that's behind you.

—And they were significantly outnumbered. The dust was clearing now, revealing a trio of charging men, gunblades of various types in hand, very definitely looking to take him out of the picture, but even worse than they—

A dark blur overhead, whose strides had been quiet as any he'd missed beneath the noise of louder battle. In each of its hands, streaks of reflected flame. Knives. They weren't after him, but something past him. He had only one ally here— and she was nowhere near this tall. No chance they'd stumbled into a mysterious benefactor at this hour, in this situation— she was doubtlessly the one who had declared they'd 'play with the girl'. No prizes for guessing who it'd be.

"Clear out, Miina!"

With the hand that held his dagger, Rudolf ripped the cloak free and flung it high,¹ this unnamed assailant's vision suddenly filled by charred, burning fabric as she cleared the top of his head in her otherwise nimble leap. That'd force at least a moment's adjustment even if she was good enough with those knives to tear the thing to ribbons. And if not, then he'd seen what his Mystrel compatriot could do when he gave her a proper opening... but an opening was about all he'd have time to give.

Thunder, close, instants away. If he hadn't heard so much of it the last night they'd spent at Ramuh's sacred ground, it would have seemed deafening.

He wrenched his body, grip fully closing around the bone of his dagger as the mercenaries crashed into him, explosive force behind their blades forcing him to try and redirect himself, rather than parry their triplicate attack. The dive took him out of their initial line of fire, as it were— enough to come out of the roll in a crouch, then leap again to the side as they about-faced to try and track him down.

No place to breathe, even with the night air returning— these guys weren't letting up. He doubted they'd let either of them out. He needed to force them back, draw his proper weapons, and cut their way to freedom. To the others.

Here, he planted the Rondel through the flooring, and grit his teeth as he swung the excess momentum through a wide, arcing swing of his greatsword, filling the space the armored men would have to traverse to split his skull with an imposingly nimble, impressive-looking crescent of edged steel²—

—Before ripping the fang free and returning that fell greatsword the harness on his back, his precious second bought. Almost ripping the wings free from either side of his belt, he wasted no time in pouncing to meet their next attacks. He grit his teeth. They were three men. Men who fought as profession, men armed with the same gunblades he'd gained new respect for, but all the same men, not divine, not enhanced, not monstruous— Just three men.³

Sparks rang out. Steel met steel.

At this rate, some small part of him wryly noted, he wasn't going to find time to realize how frightful this all had been.

---

---

• _{1. Rest in peace, soldier. Fashion inspectors around the world shall mourn your passing, and that of your bespoke pyroclastic aura.}
• _{2. Fascinating detail in how that curse interacts with the ambient clouds of dust et al in the air— we already talked about bullets leaving blink and you miss it lines through the suspension, but this hunk of junk? Doesn't do that in the slightest. It's like a ghost passing through. Maybe one day we'll learn that it hurts banshees normally, or something.}
• _{3. Your sense of scale might be a bit askew after I started talking again, Rudolf. Just know I'm an effect more than a cause.}

---

His request for a signal rapidly was buried under deliberations by the two old men in the room with him, Zacharias catching Cid up on their defenses and the recent events as he knew them. He knew Cid had to have heard him, at least, he'd just have to wait for some response. Still, if they took too long to do it, then while any of the group that may have been following the paladins would make it without trouble, the others who had split off would still be having to try and find their way. Assuming they weren't too caught up in whatever had caused the explosions outside.

And he would still have to figure out what he was doing in the fight, as well; as he'd said multiple times, he wasn't one for pitched battles, his killing skills were suited to dueling and assassinations. The sight of Selene blinking her light off in one window rapidly pulled him out of his thoughts, however, given that she seemed to be frantically signaling at something. "What's the matter?"

"It's Elly! On the roofs! I could just make her out!"

"Elly?" Eos went to the window as well, peering out.

Well, that solves one of them. He walked over to the same window, peering over the glowing fairies. He couldn't make anything out, but they had yet to give him too much reason to doubt."Both of you pulse rapidly for two seconds," he commanded. "And go up and down, the full length of the window." The confused fairies looked at each other, back to him, but then did as he bid.

"Stop. Full glow. Selene, bottom center of the window. Eos, top left. Then back to center." First letter. "Eos, top left again. Selene, bottom right. Return to center, then repeat, and back again. Good. Eos, middle left, Selene, top right." The fairies would have to make do as flags, but hopefully spelling out the short form of Éliane's name would work well enough as a signal. "Keep repeating that until you know she's picked it up, then start flashing at her again so she doesn't lose sight, I'm going to—"

He was going to say 'survey the grounds,' but when the pair came back to the center and started to pulse he cut himself off. "Welcome her in, I suppose."

---

Quick as she was, it didn't take Éliane more than a few moments to get there. He waved her over to the open door. "Sorry that they don't look like proper signal flags, but it seems you got the message well enough. Paladins should be right behind you, a half company. We should still be taking them by surprise—I want you to set up somewhere high, good coverage of the clearing, so that you can take shots at any of them that leave you a good opening. How about..."

He paused, looking back at the cottage. Zacharias and Cid inside were just coming towards the entrance.

"Boost you up to the roof?" With no disagreement, he cupped his hands together, launching her up to the top of the small home, and he returned inside. Out near where the furthest of Zacharias's guards had been posted, he could already just hear the sounds of a brewing confrontation. Zacharias, of course, still seemed reticent to trust them; it was probably for the best that he'd already gotten Éliane in place. "Are we done arguing about who's helping who?"

Ifrit and Ramuh appearing out in the clearing was answer enough. Eos and Selene floated on next to him, looking out at the advancing line of paladins across the clearing. "Hit them with whatever you have," he commanded Eos. "Selene, stay up by Éliane, give her an extra pair of eyes and ears. If she calls for it, be ready to give a boost—hopefully I'll be close enough to still take advantage of it." Both fairies darted off in acknowledgement of his command. While it didn't hold the same potency as when she could literally get her hands on the target, Isolde's reaction despite her protections had proved the sudden damage the diminutive fairy could inflict with her Bios and Broils, hurling sickly green and angry red bolts at the front ranks of the paladins as Esben watched the battle unfold.

Selene, meanwhile, floated gently up next to the waiting Éliane. "Hi, Elly!" she said cheerily, despite the situation. While at the fight with Leviathan she'd seemed nearly as given over to hysterics as her sister, she'd evidently grown more than confident with the group's abilities. She settled into place atop the pink-haired woman's shoulders. "I'm here if you need me!"

---

"They certainly know how to put on a show." Galahad murmured as they watched Isolde's paladins face off with both Zacharias' guards- and the two spirits of fire and lightning. It seems Ifrit and Ramuh were here to cause havoc as well. The paladins had been so single minded in their goals, they hadn't seen Galahad, Izayoi and Chisato making their way behind then.

"Isolde's paladins seem like true zealots." Galahad noted as he stood from their position and readied his halberd. "Wait for them to get entangled in combat first." he murmured as they watched the Paladins a bit more. The formation of knights before them were similar to that of the last time they faced off with them- a wall of shields and swords in the front, followed by halberds, then archers in the back. As soon as the paladins were fully engaged with Zacharius' guard and the eidolons, they'd be too focused on the battle to properly watch their rear- besides, who would be foolish enough to fight Drana's paladins in the heart of their capital? "We'll hit their most vulnerable units first, then make our way to the front."

"Now. Cut them down!" Galahad barked as he grabbed Izayoi and sprinted forward a few steps and planted his feet onto the ground. Dirt and cobble kicked up and broke as the armored Dragoon shot the two of them up into the air- the cloak he'd worn to somewhat hide his identity during their travel drifting to the ground. As he hit the crest of his jump, Galahad's eyes found the a large concentration of archer paladins facing off against Ramuh, halberd already crackling as his materia coated the blade in electricity.

His eyes caught a second, similar squad already laying arrows into Zacharius' guards. "Last time we faced these Paladins, they caught us at a disadvantage- I think we ought return the favor." Galahad said as he began their descent, pushing Izayoi off towards one group as he crashed down towards the other.

One of the paladins barking orders to the others found the weight of a halberd bearing Dragoon crashing into him. Steel plates cracked and crumpled The rear of the paladin's lines erupted with static and flying dirt as the armored Dragoon crashed into them. Steel sundered as the halberd tore through the paladin's armor, the sheer weight of the impact pinning the torso of the paladin to the ground.

Planting his feet against the fallen Paladin's back, Galahad pried his halberd from the armored corpse as his helmet scanned the shocked cluster of archer paladins around him. Wyrmfang flashed and cracked as he swung it in wide, circular arcs to make space and further disrupt their formation before he dove at his next target.

Ah, damn it, couldn't these people have the good sense to just burn to death in the exploding warehouse? Or at least fall unconscious, or be distracted by the burns, or something! What was the good of setting up a big explosion if everyone was left standing afterwards? She'd have to go ask Elly for pointers.

Of course, that would require surviving. At least that was made easier by everyone loudly talking about their plans – and thank you, small little healing, for making sure that ringing went away – but now Rudolf was here. So… just running was probably out of the picture, Miina didn't want to have to explain to everyone else why she had left him to be stabbed to death by whoever-it-was in a building she had set on fire.

And he was nice enough. Even if he was weird and carried around a sword he had no plans to use.

Flinging herself out of the way of the first brace of knives, the Mystral hastily pushed herself off of all fours and ready to meet the foreign woman blade-to-blade—

Well, nearly.

"Haste. Protect. Blink," Aaaaah, this was going to suck; she probably only had one more spell in her. This was what she got for using magic all day to keep up with the constant drinking. And then going in for a OHKO. And then blowing a building up.

Okay, so Miina had done quite a lot, all told, the real problem was showing up dressed to… not blend in, but not really be out of place. This would have to compensate for armour – and thank you, again, Rudolf, for buying the moments needed – and only having a knife for now. Hopefully, Rudolf would finish with the others or something fast, so Miina could either get an opportunity… or flee…

Or maybe whoever this was would just get bored. Sounded like her plan was toast if everyone else was dead, whatever it was.

---

By now, Éliane’s direction was somewhat aimless, and the pink-haired woman was about to default to the fight that she could hear when some strange flickering lights in a window managed to catch her eye. It had been erratic for a moment, but it had quickly coalesced into two lights, pulsing in pattern that almost seemed like Skaelan telegraphic code…

“Well that’s interesting,” she muttered.

It took her another second to realize that was exactly what it was and it was spelling her name. It wasn’t very creative, but now she knew exactly where the spy she was looking for was. Pivoting on her feet as she landed on another route, she quickly diverted. It didn’t take long for her to be face to face with Esben and his resident fairies. “Lucky stroke there,” she commented, before standing a bit straighter at the mention of the incoming paladins. By the way he suggested setting up, it seemed they still had a little bit of time. Her eyes caught the forms of Zacharias and Cid coming out as they spoke, making her shoot a questioning glance at both them and Esben, but she quickly got to work, nodding at his offer to boost her up to the roof.

Éliane was completely out of the loop still, but she nonetheless had a firm target to take her frustrations out on in the form of zealous paladins. She would ask about the situation later.

On the roof, she quickly began preparing. The din in the distance of the chanting paladins was easy enough to tell which route they were about to take, and she immediately pre-sighted the stretch of road they would be coming down.

“If only I had the cannon with me,” she bemoaned, thinking of the carnage she could inflict with a rotary cannon straight down the length of the road the enemy was about to take. Unfortunately, carrying just the gun alone stretched her ability to travel across the roofs, let alone any of the ammunition she needed, so it had to be left behind temporarily at the safe house.

She made do with what she had though, finding just enough time to lay out some explosives on segments of the road. They weren’t exactly improvised explosives, but if she shot each grenade when the paladins were over them, they would work just as well.

Éliane glanced as one of the fairies greeted her on the roof. “Hey, Selene,” she greeted. “Give me some speed when I call for it. There’s enough targets, so why not try for the mad mad minute?”

With that, she took a prone position on the roof with her rifle pointed and sighted, waiting for the zealots to turn the corner. The moment the first knight came into her range and sight, she started blasting.

Sabotage from the rear. I suppose that this Edreni man isn't completely hopeless at command, even if it is the most obvious route of attack. He did make his rank and position somehow, after all.

The backline of the paladins is completely undefended. They're so utterly fixated on their goal that they can't possibly comprehend this sort of attack.

It suits this approach perfectly.

The most disruptive course of action to utilize in conjunction with my allies is fairly clear. The armor will make a swift kill somewhat more difficult, but as long as they're not directly paying attention to me then that isn't as much of a concern.

As long as my blade can slip into a gap in their armor, I can deal with it.

But first---

I pull the black shape of one of my bombs from my satchel, swiftly passing magical energy through to the fuse in order to ignite it nearly instantly.

I take aim, carefully, for the rear of their formation, away from Caradoc-san's approach.

I toss it right for their feet.

There's little opportunity to respond, especially with the ongoing attack. The pillar of flame and light erupts moments later, scorching the earth and tearing through the paladin whose feet it hand landed beneath. The others will surely be disoriented and injured, therefore---

Before the smoke has cleared, I advance, ducking low and throwing my whole body forward to reach their rear line, launching myself into the smoke left behind by my explosive. A stumbling paladin, trying to recover from the blast, is my first target.

Fools. Complete and utter fools.

They'd throw the lives of everyone in this nation away for this. They'd make innocent people suffer, for this.

They're precisely the sort of people that I would be sent against in my homeland.

The gap between chestplate and helmet is rather like a slot for a key. My blade slips in easily before he can recover, the paladin collapsing with a gurgle. I move on just as quickly. The smoke will clear soon, so I need to remain aware of my surroundings and keep moving. I have no armor, so speed is my best defense.

We'll end this here.