---

You know, looking at it.

"You think wedging it out'd work?"

What? No. I was gonna say I’m not sure why you were so worried. The \Comet notwithstanding, it’s kind of just if Adrammelech was a Taurus, or a Leo, and not a Capricorn. They’re about as big as eachother, I’d say. One lanky, one brawny. Hm. Maybe something like a… Leo sun and a Taurus rising. If we go get some tea I can channel my inner witch girl, and we could figure this out. Or that yerba you tried in Drana Asnaeu.

“Okay, man. Whatever.”

Rudolf rolled his eyes with a huff, and killed the conversation between undertone and inner monologue as he heard footsteps drawing up along the rime behind him. Lighter and more careful than the average villager’s that would stop by and curiously observe the dangerous-seeming man ponder over how he would try and overcome the fantastically tough keratin and bone of one of nature’s most fearsome killing machines from a safe distance, the cadence of the stride was familiar enough that guessing at the who was basically an afterthought.

”Patience isn't always your strong suit, is it?” came yet another familiar cadence to match the stride that was coming up. ”Arm still in a sling, a corpse big enough it would take most of that village to move it, and yet you're already out here like you're scared it’ll get up and walk away on you.”

“Give me some credit,” Rudolf retorted, his right hand holding his rondel aloft as he lazily rolled out his unbound shoulder. “It’s my bad arm that’s off-duty— and the village is gonna want the pile of blight attached to this very valuable skeleton gone before long. It’s not every day I can claim a Behemoth’s horn; this is as good as any scale on Galahad’s sash, you know.”

At least Esben's ribbing him was good-natured, rather than just getting on his case for straining himself when he hadn't yet healed. In recognizing this, Rudolf’s responses leaned towards glib, away from defensive.

”Funny how we keep ending up like this, though...at least we didn't get the worst of it this time. If I had to fight broken ribs while trying to saw a horn off of this thing I'd probably have said no.”

“Well, to be fair,” Rudolf grunted, sinking into a low squat in front of the beast’s snout and staring into the sunken black pits of its’ skull— the eyes having long given up the ghost to the Blight. The blade in his hand ran rivulets of ink down its spine for a moment, before he seemed to hold off on putting blackflame to the inside of the skull and cleaning it out, thinking better of the idea. “If you were in ribs jail again, I wouldn’t have asked. Really, I’d be fine just bouncing ideas off you.”

Instead, he held the steel outstretched, towards the top end of the roughly Chisato-sized skull, making contact with the black ivory of the leftmost horn and feeling the resistance.

“You’re right, though. We get to be the tough ones this time. How do the others look? I imagine your two employees have been hard at work keeping tabs on them all— Miina and Eliane, they were the worst off by far. How’re they?”

”Alive,” came the laconic reply. ”Miina seems to be down an arm, though. Hopefully it isn't permanent; if she's crippled, that'll be yet another thing to keep an eye out for, no matter how much she might not want it.” He reached out towards the horn as well, frowning at it. A knife didn't seem enough to get through it, and he didn't feel like just trying to bash it off.

”That’s… Yeah, we should.”

The tightness around Rudolf’s eyes said it all— that and the scarring. For all the mechanics of aethereal manipulation as it came to naturalborn mages were still above him, he’d already had his brushes with permanent changes coming by way of asking for more magic than the body was meant to handle. He’d been lucky that most of them were mercifully cosmetic—

But even now, he was accounting for a slight tingle at the tips of his fingers, even minding the knife. For her to lose use of an entire arm? Forget battlefield efficacy. Simply living would now be so much more a pain.

”Should we see about borrowing a saw? Surely the healer or the butcher would have one to get through this.”

”Only if they won’t miss it,” Rudolf huffed, electing to illustrate things by pulling the edge along the side of the horn— revealing a line so faint even keen eyes would need to squint for it. “Behemoths are robust enough to ward away old dragons from their territory— Their horns are little different in that regard. Easily strong enough to wreck steel before steel wrecks it if we just try sawing away.”

He glanced around, noting the many places where their struggle and the fallout of the Comet left their marks.

“I doubt we want to take their lumber saws from them either, considering. Hmm. Maybe… You have any wedges on hand? Pitons, maybe?”

”Not on hand, no.” Treating it like splitting stone might work, at least, although he had no clue how the horn might try to fracture. ”Lumber saw would be too soft, anyway. I was thinking take a bone saw to it, section it off from the skull, then we can take the entire horn somewhere else to break it down. Maybe they have a way we could grind it down here?”

“Maybe a millstone.” Rudolf dully joked. “Since I’m thinking of quarries already, you particularly remember how this region makes its money to begin with? A dominant trade’ll get us at least a broad directionality of what we might be able to use. Granted,” he breathed, tapping his knife in sequence down the horn’s length once, twice— measuring workable sections, no doubt. The beast had been massive; the full length of either curved spear on its crown eclipsed the swords Rudolf wore on his hip. To hilt any manner of dagger, you would hardly need it whole.

But, as getting ahold of a Behemoth corpse had proven for the nth time, contingencies. It could always go wrong, somehow.

“If our luck runs dry, I’m willing to donate camp time and whetstones on my own to it. No skin off my back. I came in expecting some measure of lugging workable material around for a while in any case— I’m hardly the artisan this stuff deserves.”

”Mmm.” Esben was hardly the sort to really know what kind of artisan the corpse of a Behemoth would take to make anything useful. He was just hopeful that the bone itself would be softer than the horn. ”I'm sure the rest of the Sagramori might laugh at that one, ja? Rudolf, part of a team that slayed a Behemoth, so stumped on how to deal with it that he has to drag the horns along behind him.”

“No. There are people that know the right way to wring the strength out of felled beasts into the knives. It’s steeped in process and tradition. It’s an entire craft, and it’s theirs—I have not made it mine.” he spoke with cutting finality. ”The clansmen and laetii alike would sooner laugh at me for having the temerity to waste a good kill if I got ahead of myself and made something shoddy.”

Maybe Galahad might have more ideas than he did, but the dragoon wasn't there to help, and it wasn't a joke to suggest that the two of them standing there really had come out of it better than the rest for once. ”As far as I'm aware, this is mostly farmland—for what little grows and what little of a growing season they have. There might be a quarry or a mine nearby, but I'm not sure. Want to stop and talk to the butcher first, or start asking around for anything bigger?”

The younger man thought on it, glancing up to the sun. He’d already wasted a good few minutes bickering.

“…Butcher. Let’s go for it. They can probably tell us if we’re barking up the wrong tree or not.”

”Let's go look for one, then—and let me do most of the cutting if it works. We don't need you setting your arm back another few days, if Alex is going to be on us the whole time we're down here in Skael. I'm going to need someone that can hold her down when we finally catch her.”

Rudolf snorted. “Hold her down? I’m not marriage material like that.”

Such a joker. But thankfully, his only real protest was waving his right arm around a bit, before pumping it forward and back— evidently confident he could handle a bone saw.

Rather than dignify that terrible joke with a response, Esben furrowed his brow down at the skull.

”Do you think we could sever the connective tissue, at least? If we can drag the skull behind us it'll be less back-and-forth.”

“That…” Rudolf murmured, bringing the bone of the dagger to his chin thoughtfully. “Might not be a bad idea. Once we clean it out, and all.”

A puff of air leaked through his nose, ushering in a small tightening of the brow.

“I doubt Izayoi’s going to care terribly much about it, but given it was her technique that struck the final blow and the lion’s share of the damage… she does have the right to first claimancy. Be easier to take the stuff I want to her and say ‘Mom please’ than drag her out to all this.”

He sheathed the knife and stepped over to the side, reaching for a heftier blade.

”If you think so. She doesn't seem the type to take souvenirs like this.”

“That’s why I said it the way I did.”

As Rudolf reached for a heavier blade, he put his hands on any point of the beast's skull he could get a firm grip—and where the Blighted flesh had already sloughed off completely without residue. ”Right through the atlas joint, ja? Just say the word and I'll maneuver this so that you've got a good angle.”

“Yeah, open it up for me.”

Esben obliged, grunting as he pulled on the skull to break the neck up and open. Chisato-sized it was, and probably twice as heavy; add on the fact that he had to bend it down into the ground to open up the joint that was their target, and it was likely to take all the remaining energy he really felt like expending for the rest of the day.

With grisly intent, one of the Wings unfurled from the hip of the burned swordsman, drawing high as his good arm measured for the gap, already visualizing strength and weight carrying through that single edge. Forged quite well for chopping like this— but, while he still had another blade on his mind…

“A shame I’ve dragged my feet on breaking that curse,” he noted, slowly bringing the sword down onto the stretched joint, refining the imminent hew. “Were I more industrious, I surely could have gotten ahold of a diamond and crushed it by now— remind me,”

He glanced over, living more in curiosity than dissatisfaction.

“Your family’s on the coast, right? Have I picked your brain about black pearls yet? Feel like I might’ve. I know oysters are due to bloom in a couple weeks from asking around here, at least.”

”This, while I'm holding this thing in place for you?” Esben grumbled. ”They're rare, but not impossible to find. As best as I know it's basically luck of the draw, but I'm sure pearldivers might know more. Are you hoping to buy or just pull your own? We might need to start you on some breath exercises now if that's the case.”

”I’m hoping to get ahold of it however I need to,” he replied evenly. “I know things went poorly with Siren, but I’m confident in holding my breath when I’m not wrapped up in a mesmer and maelstrom. It’d be nice to buy it, though. Good change of pace, not having to worry about ‘luck of the draw’— that’d be bad news for me. Anyway, speaking of ‘holding your breath’:”

A flash behind the eyes, and a sudden, violent change in bearing.

The hoarfrost beneath their feet cracked, as the muscles of Rudolf’s arm, back, and core fired at once, a stiff exhale passing through his teeth as he sent a comet of his own through the path his blade had drawn, brutally strong even with his other arm pointedly out of commission. The sword bit deep. Having time to measure oneself like this was always such a luxury.

“I won’t make you do it much longer. I think a couple more and we’ve got ourselves a head.”

”I am not holding my breath!”

“You were a little. It’s fine! It’s good to brace your core when you’re in an isometric hold. I meant the figure of speech, anyway.” Rudolf breezily elaborated, rolling the wrist of his sword arm over to clear the blood as he raised it again.

”Fitte,” Esben muttered darkly, putting a foot on the snout of the skull to help hold the angle for Rudolf to keep hacking through the ligament attaching spine to skull. ”Pearl diving is no normal holding your breath, anyways, or did you regularly make a habit of diving as deep as a tower is tall and then scrambling along the lakebed while training with the Sagramori? Because that's what pearl divers do, in the open ocean, and our waters are frigid. Drownings when divers try to resurface just because the pressure makes them faint are a depressingly regular occurrence among those without diving helmets.”

“We have a couple of pretty deep lakes. Behemoths trying to hit each other with Comet to thank for ‘em, if you believe old hearsay.” Another steel-lined bolt from the heavens rang out, a thick and wet snap resounding as connective tissue gave way. Rudolf waved with the sword in Esben’s direction now, basically signaling relent. They were far enough through that the rest wouldn’t be half so obstinate. “How tall a tower we mean?”

For whatever it was worth, he was trying to remember just how deep he had last managed, dive training for Naga and Water Trolls.

”One hundred feet and more. And that's only the depth, that's not counting actually hunting for the oysters and mussels.” He let go of the head, although he kept pressing down with his foot to keep it from settling back entirely. He glanced over the joint critically, before turning his sight back to the rest of the skull. ”Mmm, maybe the jaw too...”

It would be less to drag, at least, although he had no clue how difficult those joints would be to get through.

“Alright, not quite.” Rudolf shrugged. A hundred feet of water overhead certainly didn’t sound like his idea of a good time, even if he was mildly convinced his tolerances had been forced higher thanks in no small part to things like the carcass they were mangling.

He was pretty sure a few fathoms was about it, on his end. No more than ten. Bringing the final pass of his sword through, he crouched low, pressing his knuckles against the masseter and looking back up with a frown. One of the densest, hardest knots of contractile tissue on anything he’d ever encountered, putting it lightly— even at two days dead. A Behemoth’s jaws were like a massive vise— producing crushing force that would put its teeth through the spine of nearly anything that walked the earth.

“I think it’d take a while.”

Esben nodded, swallowing the sigh that threatened to come out at that thought. ”Let's get dragging, then. Butcher first? Then you can check in with Izayoi while I do my rounds on the rest?”

“Lead the way.”

Sheathing the sword, Rudolf’s free and able hand reached into the maw of the felled beast, finding purchase around the front of the snout and pulling. It took a good bit of work to break into motion, but soon enough he managed a trudge.

After a couple yards of dragging, manageable as it was, Esben turned back to Rudolf, looking over the curling horn he'd found a grip on.

”...Ropes and a Chocobo?”

“Go get Sven, fuck it.”

A few more days later, once everyone was as reasonably recovered as could be, the Kirins took their leave. Days passed. The climate grew colder to the point where snowfall became common. Dirt paths gave way to paved concrete, the occasional metal carriage passing by the party on the road with loud honks of a horn. Blightbeasts attacked twice more over the days, though only in smaller, easily dispatched raiding parties.

As bid by Cadmon a week ago, the party entered the lands of Viscount Breien. While not entirely out of the way of their intended path towards Falcon’s Nest, the party had to divert for a good few hours on the main road in order to reach this territory.

For the most part, the land was exactly as had been described: well-maintained and as prosperous as was possible for a snowy tundra close to the heart of Skael. Frost had already begun to set in for the season, with kale and root vegetables notably planted in the fields they passed. It was past midday by the time they’d finally reached the castle gates, with Izayoi shooting Esben and Rudolf a look as the guards verified their identity.

”This little detour had best be worth the trouble. I would be somewhat cross should Demet’s recommendation to come here result in something less than significant materiel aid, yes?”

Miina looked up at the gates with a blank expression. Despite her lack of outward complaint over the past few days, the girl had rather shut down, showing much expression only in the form of irritation if anyone broached the topic of her arm.

As she had expected, the pain from channelling magic had reduced – not entirely gone, not yet, but sufficient that she felt it bearable to attempt healing. And that... there was no response, at all, the entire arm remaining as inert as ever. And without immediately driving herself to a splitting headache, it was quite clear that it didn't even hurt like the rest.

Concentrating on the results of the analysis through the haze of pain had been difficult, but the results were confusing. She wasn't sure what she had expected... scarification, maybe? Her entire arm (and shoulder, and even oddly some of her torso) was now covered in a weblike, sprawling pattern of scar tissue – interesting enough to look at she was considering leaving it, since it couldn't exactly impair functionality any – but that just seemed to trace the patterns underneath.

She worked it out the morning after by comparing with the healthy arm.

The nerves were just... gone. She hadn't bothered telling anyone – nothing they could do – and the theory she had for it was simple enough. It wasn't a backlash of untouched aether, it had already been fire and the elements and healing. So as the uncontrolled power had ravaged through her arm in particular, it had healed some of it... with normal tissue.

So maybe she was also shooting Galahad dirty looks occasionally. And really starting to hate gloves...

"We're of like mind in that, believe me." a grumble floated in from two paces ahead, as the supposed chief benefactor of this four-hour diversion slipped the signet ring hanging from a cord 'round his neck back under his scarf and collar. Emblazoned with the small engraving of a dragon betwixt gnarled roots, the blued steel was a pointedly rare sight¹— but it seemed to be ample failsafe for proving his identity, after being five years and change missing. "He was pretty coy with the specifics, beyond my needing to show up."

The warrior's gear, burns, and scars had earned him a thoroughly skeptical eyeballing. If Rudolf had followed up on any one of those impulses he'd had in his exile to throw that old gift from his mother away, this might not have gone so smoothly— their only ticket in would have been Esben, who seemed to be no great trouble to verify. Maybe his word might've then been enough for the angry stray cat he had in tow.

He glanced over his shoulder, towards two actually angry actual cats, meeting the eyes of the elder for a moment— the younger too busy shooting Galahad a stink eye, as one arm stubbornly hung limp at her side. Izayoi was bristly as ever, but with the knowledge of the situation at hand in the big picture well on the forefront of all their minds, he couldn't blame her. To tell the truth, feeling each hour drag on by as they peeled off-course had started to wear on him, too.

He huffed, a cloud of mist blooming before him, before facing front once more as the gates began to open for them.

"Ostensibly, the story is that I'm supposed to be quietly warding with the Viscount given my weak constitution— And showing up after four or five years will 'prove' that I didn't run off and die while he was nominally responsible for my wellbeing. He's been stressed to high heaven about reporting me missing— It's a poor look to lose your sickly charge, I imagine. So, if all goes well, we'd at least have this estate as a potential redoubt, should things get really hairy further into the country. You know, the way they have in the past two. Beyond that..."

He grimaced as he stepped forward, the first into the grounds proper. Much like the frost-dusted winter kales and turnips scattered along the surrounding farmlands, not far away from the stony approach were earthware pots capped with white— pale, hardy primroses stubbornly peeking through the chill in spots of pale yellow and lavender.²

His timbre dropped, confusion and suspicion mounting.

"'Some things for both of us'. I have no idea what it could be. Any guesses?"

He nudged the one-day Baron with an elbow, both his arms back in working order.

"Something materially worthwhile, to keep her off our backs?"

---

---

• _{1. TL Note: He was scared Galahad would recognize it. It comes from the Midgar side of the family— the more recently-Midgar side of the family. Fun fact, his other two shithead brothers have their own versions of this thing. It's a minor miracle he kept it around. Probably a lot of unresolved issues there.}
• _{2. Imagine how good a florist you could have been, if only you'd stuck to the plan. You'd know everything about those dainty flowers, and never come close to being able to say you fought a Behemoth enough to earn a trophy on the kill. Or say that you overcame the defenses of Leviathan with Ga with Gungnir. Aren't you glad, young man, that I've put you on an exciting path instead? Giving you the violence you yearn for? Look, you're a warrior in a garden, and for once the phrase actually applies to the subject in a clear one-to-one. Just remember to thank me some time.}

---

The Kirins were... managing. They weren't in the best shape after the Behemoth, some less than others. Galahad still had a few questions- namely where the fucking thing had come from. Blightbeasts were a common enough sighting nowadays, but such a large and powerful creature attacking by what amounted to a rather insignificant town was a concerning thought for sure. More concerning was the state of their own party. The gear had seen better days, and while Galahad had noticed the occasional sullen glances from Miina, he hadn't necessarily had the time to address them- they'd yet to find a quiet moment, and Miina seemed less than enthusiastic to talk about what was bothering her- at least to him particularly. He'd need to find time to address it, but for now...

"I don't imagine we'll have a considerable amount of time to spend here." he remarked. "There's only so much we can do with material goods if we don't have the time to use it all. But we do need repairs, ammunition, supplies- healing."

Galahad frowned, as he looked over the state of the party. "How much time do we wager we have to spare? We need to move as soon as possible, yet at the same time..."

Galahad's wince was hidden behind the visor of his helmet. Despite being crushed underneath the Behemoth a few times, somehow cracked ribs and bone were among the least serious of their injuries.

"I don't imagine the task we have at hand in Skael will fare well for us if we tackle it ill prepared.

---

"I'm not willing to guess at what Cadmon has to do with the Viscount and what that has to do with either of us," was Esben's reply to Rudolf's prodding. "At least with you it makes sense. To include me as well is...difficult to predict." It meant that Cadmon had known about him ahead of time, in some manner. Whether that was something to do with Kayliss or to do with Halvor himself was another impossibility to guess at.

He glanced at the flowers as well as Rudolf, eyes narrowed at them. Primroses, red and white hellebores, camellias...he knew, and he'd told the others as much, that one of the Viscount's various hobbies was flower arranging. Whether these were just convenient blooms or some sort of messaging from the eccentric man, he had little clue. Floriography was not something he'd bothered to study at all, nor had it even been an option at the Garden.

"Ah, Sir Cadon?"

Esben's eye's snapped back to the guard that had met them at the manor gates. "The Viscount has been in...one of his moods, lately. He's barely spoken for the last two days, something about a letter he got and the timing of things not lining up. You'll understand if he's not the most welcoming, yes?"

"...Ja."

A foreboding thing to hear from someone that was supposed to help them, for sure. The guards swiftly moved to giving directions to Goug, where the chocobos and all the rest of their things could be stabled and stored. The Kirins were, for the moment, given basicaly free reign of the manor grounds. Esben took a moment to reorient himself, having not actually been there since he was a child, looking between the manor house, the stables, outbuildings...He pointed off to the west. "He should still have a smithy over there. I wouldn't expect miracles, but we can at least get anything dented and bent fixed back the way it should be. Guest rooms are on the east wing, so we'll be shuffled that way soon. Let's make our way in out of the cold, though, ja?"

Without waiting for a response from the rest, and given his own perturbed mood with the entire situation, he made his way up to the entrance of the house and pulled it open without a care.

"You think he'll be upset if I go help Goug stable the birds?" Rudolf offered, tongue drifting closer and closer towards cheek. His eyes followed Esben up towards the entrance, but his feet still hung a little back— in part having made sure he was paying attention once the Viscount had been confirmed to be in one of those previously mentioned bouts of melancholia again, but just as much...

He watched and waited, speaking again when he saw the SEED blithely grab hold of the door liked he owned the place. 'Unwelcoming' would be put to the test, then— good thing he'd hung away, if the man were wroth. He'd noticed a change in the demeanors of the guards, though, once he'd been properly identified. They were acting pointedly familiar. For all the stress that ruse was doubtlessly causing Breien, his men were as committed to it as he.

And if there was anything both of them that had been urged to take this four hour detour knew he Rudolf a knack for, it was playing along. He grinned toothily, folding his arms as he gazed past his tallest compatriot and into the foyer.

"I mean, after five years of a mercurial northerner ward in his hair, I'm sure he's been enjoying my time away. He even planted new flowers. I think. Might want to milk every second he can out of it."

---

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• _{1. It's been a week of dropping the facade and just admitting he was disowned, and already his smartass gene is working on overdrive. One imagines his family has few friends in their corner of the old country. But it's great, I'm all for needlessly needling people, as you might have put together.}

SMACK.

Izayoi dope-slapped Rudolf on the back of his head, sighing irritably.

"Enough cheek, boy. This patron of yours has taken you in for five years. One should think you would have learned something of gratitude in that time." Was...she sassing him? Regardless, she moved on quickly afterward, nodding to both Galahad and Esben.

"Very well. I take it Esben and Rudolf at the least will go to meet the Viscount. Galahad, are you to join them or otherwise?" She gave his kit a once-over, checking over his chestplate. "The damage the Behemoth did to you was not insignificant. A trip to the smithy would not go amiss, I'd think."

___

Regardless of who accompanied them, Esben, Rudolf, and Elly would be shown to a sitting room to take tea and await the Viscount's arrival. It took upwards of twenty minutes for the nervous, harried lord to finally arrive, murmuring quietly under his breath about how perhaps now he could finally stop making excuses that he was fairly certain one Lady Lambert didn't believe.

Meanwhile, what Kirins didn't join them had the option of either roaming the grounds or making their way to the castle smithy. Said blacksmith turned out to...be drunk. At midday. Izayoi took one look at the staggering, slurring mess of a bald man operating the castle forge and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Can I...ergh...help yah? Lord ain't the most friendly type, so yer here for something important, no?" He took one look around at Izayoi, those who came with her, and the state of their health and equipment. "...Yah look like shite."

With nothing better to do, Miina continued to tag along with Izayoi. The flower gardens were a bit interesting, she supposed… if only for having so much more varied life than the land they'd been passing through so far. There was something about cultivated farmland that felt so dead compared to the forests and jungles she'd grown up with, and the wild areas around here weren't that much better. Probably the weather, though, she didn't think it was all because of what people were doing.

Still, they were just flowers. Very pretty but ultimately without any meaning she could understand and completely useless. Well, maybe you could make a tea or something with some of them?

The mage didn't need any of her things seen to, so it wasn't like this was more productive. Her knife was as sharp as ever – although using that in the wrong hand was making her nervous enough she hadn't tried yet – and the sword had really become more of a pointing device given the number of warriors amongst the rest of the Kirins. She doubted a random castle forge had anywhere near the resources to make it into something useful now that she couldn't use it for its intended purpose, but Miina had managed so far without a catalyst, it'd be fine.

That the smith was already drunk made her even more glad that she didn't need any work done. He'd be more likely to just break whatever it was he was given further in this state… which was bad, the others did need their equipment repaired where possible. This wouldn't be pleasant for him, but the mystral knew exactly what she could do about this – she'd never had to do it on someone else, but that probably made it all the easier.

Surreptitiously raising her good arm, Miina concentrated, gritting her teeth against the growing burning as she started to channel aether (and hopefully it'd still be a good few days more before they got in another fight) and focused on what was, well, more generally a spell to cure poisoning. She'd just only ever used it to sober up in a hurry and dodge hangovers.

Probably didn't feel great if you weren't expecting the rush of white magic but that wasn't her problem.

Well, it wasn't like he made that joke without expecting retribution from somebody.

Rudolf rubbed at the point of impact with an undertone grunt, before murmuring something that rhymed to the general tune of "he certainly wasn't this strict about it." as he and Skael's native son and daughter were ushered inside in short order, the great oak door locking away the cold and the rest of the Kirins behind them. They were escorted to a plush enough lounge, warmly lit and adorned with dark furnishing— one that would make for a cozy study or sitting room, in less uncertain circumstances.¹

Despite the admonishment from outside, the young man studiously continued to play along with the familiarity of address the staff afforded him, gratefully accepting a steaming cup of tea and plucking a buttery cake from the accompanying platter. Popping the pastry into his maw, he glanced around the room as they began to sit and wait, sinking into their respective cushions.

"... How's the back holding up, Eliane?" he asked after a time, lolling his head over to give the pink-haired fusilier a once-over. It had seemed that the injury had really taken the wind out of her sails, even now that she was on the mend— while the hike over to the Breien estate hadn't prompted any obvious issues, she did still seem somewhat muted in her bearing from before—

Though, in fairness, the concern Galahad was voicing out front she likely more than shared— with Solitude having gone totally silent even to its' own intelligence apparatus, and saboteurs like Loki already so well-embedded within as to catch them out in a random township like that...

Her thoughts, most likely, lied with her family more than anything else that could be dragging them off-course like this.

He heard the knob turn, and gently tossed an extra cushion that had been lying at his side over to where she sat, before plucking his teacup from the table and plastering a languid slouch over his bearing, reclining into his seat with a propped up elbow and a smile.

"Halvor. Hi, I brought friends over. Didn't freeze." He raised his cup in greeting, before taking a sip. "You look stressed, have some tea. It's peaflower. They say it's good for nerves— and blue, too."

---

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• _{1. The temperature difference from the outside notwithstanding, it's easy to see how someone who uses 'reading' and 'painting' to stave off a biological urge to get back on psychoactive chemicals that got them through their employment days would favor this sort of atmosphere in their home.}

---

“Could be better,” Éliane admitted, which more or less summed up her feelings on things since her brush with death at the village. Rudolf’s observations had been spot on; the pink-haired woman had been uncharacteristically subdued since she’d woken up. It was understandable, really; between nearly dying and getting caught so off-guard at the appearance of Loki in the form of a random village leader, and most heavily the continued lack of information from Solitude combined with the lack of energy from her continued recovery… it was clear the Solitude native was clearly down.

She sat across from Rudolf, back once more in her signature officer’s uniform, although clearly in a posture that indicated that the woman was still on the mend. The healing, both magical and mundane had been successful, and she was well enough to fight again, but the sort of kinks from such a major injury would likely linger for some weeks yet, especially if the Kirins’ usual pace of combat continued.
Nonetheless, she still took a moment to briefly frown at the tea –not coffee nor caffeinated—placed in front of her, but she accepted the beverage nonetheless by accompanying it with a chocolate croissant from the table. Éliane hummed after biting in, a slight nod of approval. The food, at least, was familiar and comforting, although she would have words with whoever had selected the beverage.

“Could be better with actual caffeine,” she decided to append.

She sat up straighter, giving Rudolf a look as she caught the cushion thrown her way as it became obvious they were about to have a guest. Éliane didn’t bother to affect any different disposition, simply sipping her unwanted tea next to Esben. Not immediately introducing herself, she shot Rudolf another look when he began praising the tea in front of the man.

---

As they settled in within the viscount's sitting room, Esben glanced over at Rudolf while servants came by with tea and snacks. "Just remember, you've been here the whole time," he reminded, as unnecessary as it likely was. That they were served pea flower tea wasn't terribly surprising to him, even if it left Éliane noticeably disappointed. Viscount Breien's struggles with stimulants were a bit of an open secret amongst those of the Skaeller upper class that even knew of him; that he would avoid having anything with simple caffeine in it to avoid a possible relapse was expected.

At least the hot drink was nice. Unlike Éliane, however, he couldn't possibly just relax and snack while waiting, with no clue why they were even there beyond some nebulous promise of benefit from the earl Demet north across the border and the need to assuage the viscount's frayed nerves. He settled in as well as he could next to Éliane, one eyebrow raised as he peered over the rim of his cup as she intercepted the tossed cushion before it might have made him spill.

Halvor fiddled with the doorknob for a moment, before pushing through into the room, though they'd heard him just before. "Been telling Lambert he's here, been telling her that Demet keeps telling me he's here, nobody's questioned a thing but she's been on my case for the last two months now..." Esben had to withhold a sigh. Halvor stepped through, choppy yellow hair looking especially messy compared to how he'd been used to seeing the man before. Rudolf greeted him, and Esben gave a polite nod as well.

"..."

"Hej, Halvor."

Cool blue eyes met his own. Still the same bags under his eyes as ever, although Esben had to wonder if he didn't match, now. "Esben? Hva gjør du her?"

"Bare på besøk," he replied with a shrug, while the momentarily-dumbfounded viscount stared down at him. "Sammen med vennene mine!" Halvor continued to stare. Esben was already acutely aware of just how stiffly he was sitting, nearly the same as the viscount, who stood like a board had been strapped along his spine. Éliane was no better, owing to everything they'd just been through. Rudolf was the only one managing to look properly relaxed, playing up the part of one who'd just spent the last few years in this same manor.

"...Ja. B-besøk." Halvor exhaled at last, turning to face Rudolf. "Of course, of course, it's good you didn't freeze, yes, yes, thank you for the..." He cut off as suddenly as he'd begun, looking at his young charge's face.

With the faintest tremor, he took a spare cup of tea, downing it in a single pull. "W-what happened to you, kid?" he choked out, eyes locked on the scarring. Esben couldn't withhold his sigh that time. "Cadmon sends me a letter saying it was nice to send you up to visit, you and your...friends!" He shot a short, accusatory glare Esben's way. "Talking the whole time like you should already be back, and you weren't back, I had no clue where you were, all the staff said you should be by soon, and you—you—"

He looked back and forth between the pair of young men, one he'd known since he was a child, the other his "ward," one he'd "known since he was a child."

Halvor sank into one of the larger chairs, falling into it like a deflating balloon. "More tea would be nice," he said weakly, and an attendant waiting just beyond the door scurried off again. "Where have you been? What happened to you? Cadmon said to expect guests, how many will there be...I don't know if I have the rooms for it...How long have you known each other? That would've made some of this so much easier, I tell you, knowing you're both acquainted, and..."

His eyes fell on the pink-haired woman with a commander's uniform also sitting on the couch. "Good heavens, and to think I've missed you this entire time! By the Mother and her house, these two boys will be the death of me, I swear it...We haven't met too, have we?" He tried to offer her a polite smile, though given that this was both the most animated Esben had seen him in years, and how it looked like he was spending all the energy he had on the very beginning of a conversation...

"Dame Commander Éliane Laruelle of Solitude, Halvor, part of the overseer's own guard. Éliane, this is Viscount Halvor Breien."

"Eh? Oh! Yes, yes, thank you, Esben, just like your father, you can always hold moments like this together." The servant came back with more tea, and Halvor hurriedly poured himself another cup. "You must be on leave, then, yes? I haven't seen you since we all went down to celebrate your graduation, your parents, sister, and I. No shock at all you went on to graduate work, no, Anders and I rather expected it, would have been a waste if you didn't...But travelling, and with Rudolf, no less! And a commander of the household guard..."

He trailed off while looking right at them, and Esben's eyebrow raised once again. Halvor shook his head, trying to smile again. "What a lovely vacation! Cadmon did say that Rudolf was planning to head on to Solitude as well. Dreadful place, far as I'm concerned, too busy, much too busy, although there hasn't been much coming out of there lately, Kay said I shouldn't worry myself too much though...Ah, but, of course, you can't leave yet, no, absolutely not. I told Cadmon in my last letter, he was asking something about whether you'd be up for a trip to Brightlam, but I told him that you couldn't go that far, otherwise you'd never make it back in time...and even Esben is here! That's truly wonderful, that means nobody will be missing!"

Halvor was no less energetic, although he was at least finding his stride, as far as anyone could call it that. And leaving Esben no less confused than when they'd started. "Missing for what, Halvor?" The viscount's head snapped back over, surprised for a moment, before the light of genuine delight came into his eyes. "Oh, you don't know yet? Even better! I shan't ruin the surprise, no, of course not, ah...How many of you are there going to be? I need to know the extra places to set for dinner tomorrow night, they should all be here sometime in the morning. And rooms! And, and..."

He was starting to get overwhelmed by the thought of all the accomodations to prepare. Esben sighed again. "Our chocobos are already in the stable by now. Counting the Moogle, there's eight of us."

"I always knew you had it in you to make that many friends!" The pride in Halvor's voice faltered as soon as he registered Esben's flat glare. "Y-you see, Lene and Hanne, they always said...No, no, forget it. Eight it is! And everything you'll need to get you to Solitude, of course, you can't go riding across these snowy wastes unprepared. Oh, did you see the flowers out front? No materia or anything for them, just skill. I think I'm getting better! Hard to find the right ones for this that would grow in winter, of course, but I knew I'd manage. Ah, but you all probably want to avail yourselves of the baths after being on the road so long, yes? Kaja, can you make sure we have hot water?" He sprung up out of his chair, slamming his emptied teacup back down on the endtable next to him.

"And I'll make sure we have rooms prepared for you all, of course, we'll have Aksel give all of you who don't know a tour of the place while we make sure we have extra for tonight's dinner...Ah, do you need anything else for now?"

It hardly bore any repeating at this juncture, but the five years Rudolf had really spent had left him very, very good at feeling someone's gaze falling upon him. He could see her out of the corner of his vision, probably skeptically raising a brow as he relayed what he remembered the benefits of blue peaflower to be, rather than their shared love in coffee. For his part, he maintained his innocently easygoing smirk, catching Éliane's gaze for a moment during the interplay between Breien and Cadon— before flicking his eyes down to the cushion he'd handed her, leaning forward, and tapping at his own lumbar vertebrae.

Really, it brought him little joy to find those suspicions confirmed, but at least the extra support for the bottom of the spine would serve to— Eyes front, you're back in the conversation.¹

..."W-what happened to you, kid?"

Rudolf's brows rose slightly at the sudden interrogation, the man before them a thoroughly wrung-out rag compared to the tight knot he'd been before he realized that half the skin of his "ward's" face was slag. More than fair to the poor guy, Rudolf himself had been caught in a sputtering loop only weeks before by the absent party of this little farce they'd all decided on— were that it left him any bearing on where this one was intended to go...

"Hm?" he murmured, before closing the burnt eye and appearing to brush the storm of worry off as it met him, like one might an unwieldy swipe with a blade. "Oh, this. Just some trouble I got into after Cadmon sent me on my way— the road these days is getting dangerous. To answer your other question, as it stands," He continued, downplaying the care with which he was choosing his words. This was where even he couldn't deny his father leaping out of him— Rudolf was willing to push this bit as far as it would go, committing to the false pretense for the Viscount's sake as much as anyone's. But speaking personally, half the fun was seeing how far you could go within that by never outright lying— just telling the truth in the right amount, and right way.²

"I met these two not too long after I set off, and they were a great help in getting me back in one piece through all the swashbuckling. You know, mostly, but that's not exactly their fault. At the very least, they both have taught me some valuable lessons— so we at least can say that's worth it." he wryly amended, reclining again as Halvor poured himself likely all of what soothing bluegrass water they had left from the first pot into his own cup.

As the viscount began to chatter with Esben about his graduation from the garden, Rudolf nursed his tea, sipping lightly. So far, so true, as much as he meant to keep score. However, from behind it, he too would inevitably raise a brow at the mention of a surprise. And more important even than that—

He glanced over to Éliane again, before letting his eyes narrow for the first time since the man entered the room. "A full day here?" he demanded, for whatever clarification it may yet wring out of his supposed mentor. "He wasn't lying about us having matters to attend to in Solitude, sir, and we already strayed off that course. People need checking up on, under the curtain—"

But the man was possessed, already letting his mind spin off into all the preparations he was due to make for the upcoming dinner party. "They ought to be here by morning"... who else could the guy have showing up? He tried to steal a look at Esben face for clues, but the SEED seemed like he was just about as lost. Damned old prick, Cadmon— if he was going to drop this distraction on them all, he could have at least let them know something, anything about it. Hell, he'd even made it sound like the place wasn't a third of a day off-course.

He took a deep, long breath through the nose, and quietly bottomed out his teacup. Hopefully, he hadn't let too much of that show on his face— but at least he wasn't actually trying to con a man who had spent five years learning to read his mood through whatever mask he dug up to try and hide behind.

"I did see the primroses, they look nice." he began, figuring it wouldn't hurt to play to the pride the man warding him clearly took in his green thumb. Rudolf had been a sure-hit plantkiller for years now³, whenever he'd gotten it in his head to try. "For now... I guess just let me know what I've been away for while I was up north. The others are probably at the smithy, I'd guess, so we may be putting some work into that... Oh."

A thought struck, and this question was guileless for it.

"There's this village we stopped in at about a halfday down from the border checkpoint that's in rough shape, seems like their steward is AWOL. They had to scrabble together their own militia to try and keep themselves safe. Any idea how that may have gotten that bad? I know they aren't exactly 'the neighbors', but we owe them one for their hospitality..."

---

---

• _{1. I do my helpful bit outside of combat too.}
• _{2. I do my helpful bit outside of combat too.}
• _{3. I do my helpful bit outside of combat too. This one's more of a side effect, though. I don't have that much against plants.}

---

Galahad watched as Esben, Rudolf and Eliane headed off to see the Viscount. He shrugged as he turned to Izayoi's question. "Had we more time, I might. But I trust that Esben and Rudolf will gather what relevant information we need to know- and you're right, my armor needs to be seen to, and given its nature, I'm afraid it's all I'll have time for." He said as he tested his arm, the armor creaking unhappily. "I shall accompany you."

The trip to the smithy was a short trip, though the sight that he was greeted with didn't do much to bolster Galahad's spirits. The smith was drunk. Staggeringly, slurringly drunk. Galahad sighed, "Perhaps we are a bit worse for wear, but you're not looking too far off either it seems."

"My companions and I require repairs for our arms and armor, if you'd be so kind." Galahad told the smith as he began to remove his armor plates, first the gauntlets, then the pauldrons and arm guards, breastplate, greaves and the rest. The armor was quickly and methodically bundled up in an oilcloth and Galahad went to put it on the table, but paused, "Though perhaps we should wait until you sober up?"

"..."

Really?

This is the man we are meant to entrust our equipment to? The stench of alcohol is practically burning my nose. I have absolutely no desire to even speak to him, let alone hand over the weaponry I utilize in order to carry out my mission.

"I can tend to my own equipment," I assert, flatly. It's not a lie, I would never do so when it came to something as valuable to my purpose as the weaponry that I carry. Certainly, normally it is carried out by a blacksmith, but ensuring my blade remains sharp is a skill that was planted firmly within me during my training. It is not as if I am unequipped for it.

I glance towards Malina-san. She appears to be---

Casting a spell?

But why?

What could she possibly be---

---To cure the blacksmith of his drunkenness. Alcohol is a poison, after all, so it is not as if it does not make sense, but should she be doing such a thing with consideration for her injury? The state of those crucial to the fulfillment of my mission is more important than my own condition, but at the same time what can I do to resolve this?

...

Would knocking the blacksmith out force us to seek out another person?

---

"A village hit by the beasts that badly? Good heavens, I know it's gotten worse, they're even being seen on the main roads these days, but still...That near the border, it may be...Hmm, that may be madam Durbin's land, though I've no clue what happened to her that she can't keep her own..." Halvor trailed off and paused again, peering once more at Rudolf. "Is that the trouble you mentioned? That seems..." He gazed more closely still at the three of them, before rushing over to look out a window, peering out at his manor grounds for anybody that looked out of place. His eyes drew to the west instantly, where the remaining Kirins could be seen gathered at the edge of the smithy.

He turned back, staring as though he was taking in every detail of the scarring on Rudolf's face, eyes turning downward and focusing in on his left elbow for moment, before falling back on Éliane, frowning at how stiffly she sat on the couch, finally sliding back to Esben.

"A full day, yes," he spoke slowly, turning back towards the door as though he was about to chase down his servants himself. "A full day at least, with the state you're all in. I shan't put you back out on the road like this!"

"Halvor, please—"

The viscount faced Esben with a withering glare, enough to shock even him to silence. "No, Esben, I will allow no argument on this. It'll take time enough to resupply you all for whatever other travel you need to make, and I have need of one of you regardless." At that, his glare fell on his supposed 'ward' for a moment. "It's all the better for me that I have both of you here. Beside that, though, I can hazard a guess that whatever you dealt with was beyond the capacity of some border town to fix, yes? You can take the time to rest and take advantage of some proper treatment, then, before you all run off somewhere nobody has heard from in ages!"

"We can't just stay here on a whim, Halvor!" Esben protested, this time withstanding the glare that came back his way. "This isn't our decision to make—"

"Of course it isn't, because it's mine," their host interrupted back. "If this is Director Lambert's business, it can wait, and if I have to I can deal with her temper. She's too careful to plan something so urgent that it can't withstand some reasonable delay, and I daresay that if I let you all run off and get yourselves hurt worse or killed she'd be much angrier with me—not to mention your families! Two nights. You'll have my leave to go the day after next, and I'll take stock of what you actually have on you and see if there's anything else I can do to help."

Perhaps this was why the 'mercurial northerner ward' had been sent to stay with the good viscount; he seemed every bit as prone to erratic moods himself as the word could imply. He strode to the door, turning back once at the trio in his sitting room. "Esben, you know where to find me if you need, I'm sure you can tell the rest. You're dismissed." With that final bid, he left them, heels clacking down the hallway.

Esben watched the viscount's retreating form silently, more than a little perturbed at the show he'd just been given. "I hate when he reminds me he was competent," he grumbled with a sullen frown. "He's easier when he doesn't pay attention."

The surreptitious Esuna did its job, and the smith blinked in confusion for a moment at his vision and balance suddenly clearing up. After a few seconds, his mind cleared up enough to recognize that in this estate, anyone unfamiliar was likely a guest of the lord and refusing them would be a terrible, terrible idea. Suitably sobered up, he scrambled to take Galahad's armor in, swearing that repairs would be finished as soon as possible, as well as any other equipment the Kirins cared to have fixed up.

For her part, Izayoi just sighed, giving Miina an appreciative pat on the (good) shoulder before turning back the way they came.

"Well, come then. We can only hope the others have finished with their meeting by now. With any fortune, we'll not have to stay any longer than another night."

__

"A full day?" Izayoi murmured incredulously once the Skaelers had returned to the group and Esben relayed the gist of what had been discussed. "We're to tarry here for twice the amount I'd hoped for, then." Her face scrunched, as if she'd just bitten into something particularly sour.

"How unfortunate, though I can understand why he would have thought that, looking at the lot of us as we are." She sighed, shaking her head. "Very well. As I understand it, several of us could use the extra materiel he's promising, regardless." She looked towards Rudolf and Chisato in particular.

"Don't think I'd not noticed your lack of materia in recent days, boy. And you," Her head inclined towards Chisato. "-could make use of armament outside of blades and bombs, whether it be from materia or weaponry. Regardless, I would hazard to say we could all do with additional equipment, so long as it's being handed out. Two nights, then."

Entirely to her surprise, Miina had managed to get her sword modified – specifying that the sharpness of the actual blade or its balance were of no concern no doubt helping – and... well, she was no smith, jeweller, or craftsman of any stripe. She couldn't fully describe the changes wrought on the sword, only what she could observe. The... was it a jewel? Or something like a materia? Not important, but interesting. Whatever it was had been integrated far up at the pommel, and something had been done to shift the weight far back. Even less use as a sword, but it did make it easier to point with, given she still wasn't used to using this arm...

All changes aside, it was useful to the mage now, and maybe she could see why others were so reliant on catalysts. With the little testing that she'd been willing to put herself through, it seemed that they did a lot to filter natural variance and smooth over any aetheric turbulence. At least, that was how she'd put it? Watching the blade when casting... there was a difference, for sure.

Not that she really needed it for that – but maybe it'd help with those spells still out of reach? Not that she wanted to remain on a crutch – rather than having something material to sacrifice in place of her own body if something like before happened again.

... she would be glad to be out of here, though. There was so little she could do, especially while her other nerves were still recovering, and being stuck just rubbed it in.

---

It was rare that Galahad found time to not be busy these days, but what with the work on their armor taking a little bit, he somehow found himself with some time for once. He figured now was as good a time as any to take care of the of the elephant in the room.

Heading over to where Miina's quarters were, he knocked on the door. ”Miina, do you have a moment?”

When Miina opened the door, it probably wasn’t the sight Galahad had been expecting. For one, the girl was only half-dressed, almost topless aside from her non-red mage clothing, with the rest of her attire thrown haphazardly over the bed. That wasn’t too unexpected, if she was still in the room it was almost certain she hadn’t gone anywhere. But her right arm, now visible without all the layers in the way…

FIrst, it was even clearer that it wasn’t just the arm, the entire shoulder hung slack, the lopsided posture all too obvious without the heavy coat. But even more than that was the dense network of scarring; a vibrant, treelike network of scars tracing from slightly-curled fingers all the way up to her collar.

Golden eyes met blue, unblinking.

”Sorry.” Galahad immediately coughed, turning his head. ”I assumed you'd be… uh. Nevermind.”

Taking a second, Galahad glanced back at Miina, particularly at her arm. Not that he'd seen her bare arm often, but that didn't exactly look normal. He frowned, eyes grim as he looked at the network of scars.

”That seems… new.” Galahad murmured. It was basically a moot point to ask if she was okay- clearly she wasn't. ”Was this from our fight with the behemoth?”

Of course it was new, she’d been wearing less than this for the majority of their trip through Drana Asneau. What was the point in that comment? Wasting time being unnecessarily polite, honestly… well, she was still annoyed at Galahad, maybe it was better that he had.

“The m-m-magic, yeah,” she nodded, taking a few steps back and sitting on the bed. Couldn’t exactly keep dressing with a visitor; being seen like that was embarrassing. “What d-did you need?”

Galahad cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, ”Well… I’d noticed you seemed… less than enthusiastic lately, especially regarding me, so I thought I’d come and clear the air and see if I’d done anything to upset you.” Galahad admitted, not entirely sure where to put his eyes or his position. He settled for taking a seat on a nearby chair- not facing her directly, but not putting his back to her either. ”I assume that this is the cause- and from how you act, I assume that I have something to do with it. Though I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at or how it was caused.”

“It’s your f-f-fault. Th-That it can’t be healed.”

Well, that was characteristically blunt.

”I… well… I suppose that would explain your apparent disdain.” Galahad said quietly. ”I know it doesn’t help, and I don’t imagine words are enough, but I’m sorry.” He apologized, ”But… truth be told, I don’t exactly know how this happened.” he admitted, ”If you say it’s my fault, I believe you, but I still don’t know what I did.”

“Don’t know? D-D-Don’t know?” Miina hissed, ears flattened and eyes narrowed to slits, “You used a healing materia..”

Not seeing the look of immediate comprehension she was after, Miina hopped to her feet and started pacing, explaining-cum-ranting the entire time. Obviously, a materia was an impure source of aether, even if it wasn’t used properly it was by its very nature going to tint whatever was given through it. In so doing, Galahad had forced healing energy into the ongoing spell, another contradictory imbalancing element to manage and try to purify so it wouldn’t just regenerate the damn behemoth.

Of course, once that collapsed, she wasn’t able to control it. That was her fault, sure, but he hadn’t helped. And then her latest discovery: his little contribution had made sure to heal the worst of the damage caused by the backlash. Improperly. After all, healing nerves was difficult, especially ones that had been burnt to ash, and it didn’t do that. Nice, healthy, non-nervous tissue. Or scars, a lot of her skin seemed to have mostly scarred over.

But it left her with nothing to heal. She’d have to try and get rid of everything that shouldn’t be there… but she couldn’t say where the nerves would have to be. It all looked the same, see? It wouldn’t even be healing at that point, it would be trying to grow something new.

She wasn’t even sure if that was possible, let alone on that scale.

“M-Maybe the healing is why I still h-h-have an arm at all b-but…” Honestly, it didn’t make much difference except for awkwardness now.

Galahad sat there in mostly stunned silence as he listened to the little mage rant at him- the sheer severity of his fuck-up being explained in quite clear detail. His generally composed facade had broken into one of abject horror as he realized the implications of what his materia had done.

”I… I didn’t realize.” He said quietly, ”I’ve used materia, but I never really studied how magic worked… had I have known, I would’ve just used my lightning materia, not both.” He said quietly, ”We were facing certain death with the comet coming down on us… I’d assumed that more aether was better than less… But nonetheless, your anger is rightfully targeted. I ought to have known better.”

Galahad sighed as he stood to face Miina. ”You saved our lives, Miina, and for that I owe you several lives.” he said, ”If you’ll allow me, I’ll help you find a way to… fix what can be fixed. At the very least, until then, I hope you will allow me to assist you in what ways that I can- with your permission of course. Perhaps stronger materia, or a more dedicated delve into the arts of healing magic. I imagine we might pass through Drana again at some point, perhaps we might find the knowledge or assistance we need there.”

Right… the entire point of materia was to allow someone who didn't know the first thing about magic to do a very specific subset. The manipulation that Izayoi was capable of was entirely unusual and… well, Miina supposed she wouldn’t be surprised if being related to multiple mages was involved.

Most of the offer… well, she doubted that more powerful healing magic would help. Unless it got to the point of rewinding time…? That was something to look into, but probably impossible. Rejecting him out of hand would seem cruel, though, and…

“Sleeves,” the mage answered, pausing for a second before realising that probably wasn’t enough, “C-C-Can’t move or feel it. Dressing is a pain.”

”Right… that does seem like it’d be an issue.” Galahad nodded as he grabbed her jacket, and the rest of her clothes that hadn’t been properly donned yet. ”If you’ll pardon me then,” he said as he helped her into the rest of her garments.

---

The night that the Kirins arrived was a busier one than Halvor had been made to endure for a while. Not only did he have to continue seeing to the dinner preparations and other guests he had planned for in the coming day, now he had to make sure enough would be made to feed seven others, plus their moogle and all their chocobos kept stabled; more than that, he’d had to withstand Esben’s protestations after the news had been broken to the rest, before making sure his other staff were set to see to them—mending clothes and gear, the doctor and nurses to see to their wounds, taking inventory of what supplies and goods they could still lay claim to and seeing how to prepare them for when they left...

It was while he was engrossed in such continued contemplation that evening, after having fed the group and seen to their lodging, that he was disturbed by a sharp knock at his door. He looked up quickly, peering over the rim of his glasses, half expecting the door to swing open without any greeting or welcome...but it didn’t. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. ”Du kan komme inn,” he bid whoever was on the other side of the door, eyes returning to the papers on his desk.

The light’s low. Give it the old college try. One last prank for the road, before you inevitably get into one of your “I’m being very serious, take me very seriously” moods. You won’t begrudge the practice—I can tell you right now, this is going to take some serious work.

“I figured I would catch you ahead of schedule.” a distinctly ought-to-be-familiar voice floated in through the wood, as the knob turned. “I train late into the night, but I’m a bit tired of stumbling into people I meant to talk with in the middle of it—always catches me off guard in the ensuing argument.”

Much being left unsaid about how they evidently became arguments rather than discussions. Nevertheless, the door gently swung open…to reveal no ward, no guest, naught but the flickering gloom of his hallway.

Halvor looked up from his desk as the door creaked open, candles flickering for a moment with the pressure change, only to see nobody on the opposite side. One of the group that had arrived earlier that day, of course, speaking in the common tongue of Ibros. A man, younger, not speaking in quite the manner he expected of a Dragoon of such high class like the young sir Caradoc...Rudolf, then, it had to be.

And yet nobody was there. No way to hide behind the door as it swung into the room, either, no sound of footsteps rushing either further in or further away despite the voice being present. Curiously, he hadn’t heard any footsteps as his visitor had come up to the door, either.

He set his papers down, surreptitiously reaching for a hidden compartment on the underside of his desk. ”If you wish to speak, then you should show yourself,” he advised, speaking slowly to the empty air. ”I’m not particularly fond of people hiding themselves from me when they want to have a conversation!”

…

“Humor me. I’ve been humoring you all day.” the voice intoned, after a moment of pensive silence. There was a token attempt at diplomacy in that youthful timbre, but more pressing was its resonance— distant, muffled. A little off to the right, as though he were in the next room over.

Halvor’s office, of course, was at the end of the hallway.

Halvor’s fingers closed, listening closely, head cocked ever so slightly to try and triangulate the voice better. ”That’s a terrible request to make of a lord in his own manor,” he dismissed. ”Are you intending just to play a game, or have a real conversation? Shadows and air are terrible partners, especially this late in the evening.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Haha. You do like hearing me talk. That’s admitting it.

Another moment passed. The shadows drew long with each errant flicker of Halvor’s favored candlelight, soft, orange, and so permissive of ambient gloom. The doorway hung open still, and he could feel a shift in the atmosphere. Another flicker. The far side of his bookshelf, an old, proud tower of oak and the century’s canon, seemed to be almost oppressive.

And then a sighing relent, this time much clearer.

“I’ve been trying to work on something, that’s all.”

A hand, grasping around the edge, like pulling oneself through a doorframe. The walking headache’s voice was now surely in the room with him, muttering in disappointment.

“Only picked it up a couple hours ago….”

Laboriously, impossibly, Rudolf’s sword-laden frame pulled itself into view. His head emerging around the side, he finally gave the poor man the courtesy of eye contact.

“I am here to talk, though, for rea—”

Rudolf's greeting was cut off with the sound of a blade whirling through the air, lodging itself in the wood of the bookshelf just above his fingers. Halvor, white-faced, had barely adjusted his aim before he seriously wounded his ‘charge’ when he made his attack.

“... You know what, that’s fair.”

Gently, Rudolf pried the knife free of the wood after stretching a leg out to hook the man’s office door closed. Hearing a blade flying through the air had seen him almost dive back into the gloom, until his eyes told him holding steady had the best chance of staying out the knife’s path. A good thing he was still good with ballistics.

Halvor paused, straightened, and set the rest of the throwing knives down on his desk. Wiping his forehead with a trembling hand he sat back down, beckoning Rudolf fully into the office. ”What the hell are you doing?”

The door lightly knocked against the frame as it swung closed, and the young man nodded along dutifully, taking a moment to properly inspect the space he was now in, and then another for the knife in his hands. It was light as it danced along his fingers, balanced immaculately for its job— unmistakably different from the heavy, rigid thing hilted in bone on his hip.

He tossed it up and down as he stepped forward, indulging his curiosity. No wonder the man had so many of these— they really were nice. He actually had to fight the urge, just a little, to try and send this one downrange himself, just to watch it soar.

You’d best answer his question before he gets worried again. I doubt he likes you screwing around with his knife, either.

“I was hoping I could get you to the doorway. Pop up behind you, do a whole bit with it.” he whimsically not-answered, flipping the blade one last time in his grip to hold out for the former SEED to take as he sat down. “Learning to use shadows. Stealing ideas from our ninja.”

Halvor took the knife, setting it down with the rest silently. Having the young man that was supposed to have been staying with him for at least a year suddenly arrive was strange enough, especially considering the extent to which he'd been led to believe this strange boy had been there the whole time; for him to suddenly start stepping in and out of shadows was rapidly approaching the limit of his tolerance for such insanity. Regardless of the explanation that was offered.

He stared for a moment, before reaching back to a cup on his desk, lifting it up and looking into it critically. ”Out of tea,” he murmured ruefully. ”It's as bad as my school days. People changing faces, throwing their voices, jumping out of shadows, me jumping at shadows...”

He shook his head once before burying it in his hands.

”Other than trying to scare me, what are you after?”

“Materia.” Rudolf replied, taking further mercy by getting to the point. “I’m fresh out. I trust the others have mostly communicated their needs to you or your people here by now, but outside of having the smith touch up my harness alongside Galahad’s, my resupply needs are primarily materia. I figure I may as well talk to you about it, since I have something a little bigger to ask for after this.”

The bigger ask would probably be much better received if he let the guy solve a problem first, Rudolf reasoned, before he threw another onto his plate. The predictions from earlier in the day had come true— looking at how haggard and deflated the man in front of him was, one ostensibly intended to be fostering him no less… he was starting to feel bad, after all. Perhaps he’d pushed it a little too hard.

“It feels strange to ask this, even as an Edreni, but what might you have on hand?”

”...Materia?” He looked back up, peering at Rudolf in confusion. ”You figure out how to jump between shadows, and you're asking about Materia?”

“‘Figured out’ is strong verbiage, sir.”

”...” Halvor stared wordlessly again, at a loss for words.

“...Look, you’re already stressed. Just trust me when I say I’m very not good at this.”

His gaze flickered over to the gouge in his bookshelf. Just above where Rudolf's hand had crept around it, sidling out of the shadow where there hadn't even been room enough for a man like him to stand. ”I'd just handed some off to Esben, but...Ah!”

He threw open one of the cabinets on his desk, pulling out another pair of orbs. Much like before, as soon as he had the chance to latch onto something that seemed remotely normal to do, he jumped at it. ”Maybe these? Never had much use for them, not like what I gave Esben, but maybe...?”

“Whatever you can spare’ll work.” Rudolf agreed, holding his palm out. “Utility’s just as good as combative power as far as I’m concerned. Whatever we can do to diversify, and take off of Miina’s plate... Which did you end up giving him?”

”Only the most useful thing for someone like him, more time!” Halvor replied proudly, dropping the orbs into Rudolf's outstretched hand. ”I don't think he'd ever have used these, same as I didn't, it feels a bit wrong...But that doesn't mean they won't be useful to somebody else!”

“You gave him Time materia?” a jealous note in the voice, a raised brow.

”...Please take them? I can't think of much else that would be helpful to you that I have.”

He rolled them in his palm, the two orbs sliding end over end with the sound of marble. One was an earthen brown, the other a miasma of cloudy red. He pushed enough aether into them to get a feel for what they were.

His face felt a phantom burn, ghosts of the flames around his eye dancing with the candlelight. For the love of… was that sensation just his new normal? He’d felt it when wrecking his gravity materia, too.

“Quake. That is up my alley. And…”

He snickered, glancing between Halvor and the materia as an incredulous grin wormed its way onto his face.

“‘Felt bad about it’... Is this because I shadowstepped in front of you?”

”What?” Halvor looked genuinely confused. ”I never liked the vampiric materia, they always felt too strange to try and use...But that doesn't mean some of the others of my cohort didn't make off well with them. Might as well pass it along to someone that's likely to have any use at all, no?”

Rudolf rolled them in his palm a couple more times, indulging in his turn for a flat look—

“Well, I was just messing with you there. You aren’t wrong. I’ll have my share of chances for stealing away a little vitality, evening some scores a little.”

— before rising to click open his trusty pouch, and slot the two spheres of compressed aether into their new home.

I’m such a good influence. Look at us. The family’s whole again.

Halvor was visibly relieved once again. ”I'm glad to be of help,” he replied with a grateful nod. ”If that will be all...?”

“Not quite yet.” he motioned with a head nod to the greatsword in the room— he had carefully leaned it against the side of the bookshelf, opposite of where the knife had embedded, before sitting down. “I have a bigger ask, remember? This one’s longer-term, so I figured we’d square the magic away first.”

Halvor’s eyes were sharp. He’d probably notice, once his attention was drawn, to the fact that Rudolf had contributed no further damage to his tasteful wood furnishing despite the size of the thing.

Indeed, an unsheathed greatsword laying up against the oak bookshelf would be expected to at least scratch the wood, or dent the cover of a book where the pommel was resting against it...but nothing. He raised an eyebrow, looking back over at his young ward. ”It looks like the magic hasn't been squared away at all, to me.”

“Well, you have me there— that thing is cursed.” Rudolf explained. “Feather-light in your hands, dances like tigerlily on a strong spring wind, but it can’t cut a single blade of grass. Like it keeps passing through space, no matter how hard or how close you swing it to something it ought cut.”

He folded his arms, leaning back a little in the chair as he regarded the most tiresome seven pounds he’d ever lugged around in his life. “Now that I’m here, I’ve been meaning to follow up on my only lead to breaking its potential free. There’s a cursebreaking ritual that’d circumvent the need to hunt down the person who originally laid hex onto steel— but it has material cost, atop getting ahold of skilled mages.”

Miina, even down her arm, was quickly revealing herself to be as skilled as anyone going, near as he could tell, but it seemed like he’d be asking her to do the work of two lifetime specialists in the respective schools. And they’d put so much onto her already.

“Could I…” he began, turning his head to look Halvor in the eye once more. The churlish glint that had always crept into his eyes when he was pulling the viscount’s leg was notably absent. “Possibly trouble you for a diamond?”

Eugh.

Eeeeeeeugh. Beggar. Begging! Shameless! Gods above, how that felt wrong on his tongue above all else— even after all his talk three months ago about honor being cast aside or whatever surly misanthropy he’d been spewing!

“Not one you’d miss, that is.” he elaborated, holding an open palm and then making a fist. “I need to crush it.”

Halvor nodded along as Rudolf continued. A cursed blade, having to try and undo it, it only made sense that he'd have to ask for materials to do it. No matter how difficult it looked for him to do so. ”Of course, of course, breaking a curse, that's nothing terribly new...The right components and reagents and all that...”

“Wait, really?”

He paused, already in the process of sifting through his cabinets, and looked back up. ”A diamond? Have you gone mad?”

Theeeeeeere it was.

For once, Rudolf elected not to undercut himself by hedging that he probably was psychologically unwell, but that in turn was a different thing. His face betrayed no ill-mannered jest.

“It’s diamond dust, or if you could get your hands on a black pearl when oyster diving season’s in full swing. I figured the diamond was the more, readily available of the two I could ask you about.”

”You'd be better off asking Esben's family about that, they're actually out on the water...” the viscount replied dubiously. ”Nothing about how big of a diamond, then...? I, well, maybe...I'll want it replaced, though! Cadmon will never hear the end of it if it isn't!”

The grumbling continued as he continued rummaging through the cabinet, finally pulling out a small tool kit. ”Do you need something gem quality?” he asked pensively, pulling open the kit and showing it to Rudolf. A glass cutter, some drill bits, blades—and diamond. Rough bort with small gem-quality bits sticking out, little off-white ballas spheroids that gave off a similar luster, and even a rough stone that likely could make for a proper gem if it came under a jeweler's skilled hands, though it had clearly had been cleaved across its planes for little flakes, likely for the same scalpel blades that were lying above it. ”These are hard to get, even for me, so I really hope you know exactly what you need...”

“Sadly, we’re on the same level of operating intelligence.” Rudolf ruefully admitted, plucking the stone and idly holding it up to the light to eye for a moment, before closing his fist around it. “The late Grovemaster only gave me ‘diamond dust’ to work with— nothing specific for quantity or quality.”

Since I’m already teaching you things, we’ll circle back to ‘precious stones as aethereal batteries, catalysts, and reagents’ when it becomes more immediately relevant. Primordial Earth is seated in Edren, you really should know these things— I’m gonna get ahead of myself. The point is “Yeah, probably”.

He squeezed, the corners of his jaw tightening as he figured he may as well try and crush the thing like a walnut, right now, just for the hell of it. Whatever he thought of his standing, of his lagging nerves… it appeared true as well that he had certainly never been stronger than he was nowadays.

”Wait, wait, hold on!” While Halvor doubted Rudolf could crush it in his palm so easily, seeing the tendons and muscle in his hand and forearm move, he wasn't about to risk that the boy would slam it into the table or on the floor or against a wall either. ”A Grovemaster didn't tell you anything more than that? You didn't think to ask more than that? Let's—let's write to Cadmon! Even if that Grovemaster is dead, he should know the others, yes? He can get you in touch with another, probably how he did the first, you can get something more specific...Don't just take the rough stone! The ballas are purer, anyways, if that's part of the question!”

“It was a bad week. Isolde and I were not, as it happens, on the same page about much of anything. Not with breaking curses, not with Leviathan, nothing.”

He set the stone down, something tightly contained in the motion, behind the eyes. Halvor Breien’s fears, thankfully, were ill-applied. Rudolf knew better than to try and test stone against wood, after having maybe left a hairline crack in the thing with all the force he could muster— were even that not merely a trick of the light. His bones were sturdier, of that he had no doubt.

His eyes bored into the lot of them as they sat there, hand flexing. At this point, he was slipping into purely thinking aloud, that familiar quiet grumble.

“Maybe he has a rapport with Zacharias that I didn’t— but I know Neve better, and I doubt she’s had a whole lot of time to advance her grasp of such a niche subject in the midst of rebuilding Brightlam alongside the old man.”

His finger began to rap against the wood, in the pause that followed.

If they’re purer they’re better. That’s pretty basically true. Reduces the overhead— you won’t necessarily literally need to go all the way back to Green Hell for your white mage, for example. With what I’m seeing here, we can manage.

“... I’ll take what you’ll part with. If a problem comes up, I’ll find a way to sort it out. I’ve already got some literature I’m consulting from his libraries, so there may yet be some clarity hidden away for whatever moment I can take to get back to reading.” he concluded, slowly gathering the stones one by one. “You’ve already done a lot with this. I know what writing to Cadmon’s like, you don’t have to put yourself through more correspondence than you need.”

The rough diamond was placed back in the kit, a few of the ballas being deposited into Rudolf’s grasp instead, although Halvor looked up again a moment later with a confused raise to his brow. ”Cadmon’s delightful, though,” he mumbled, shaking his head. ”This sword, those scars...I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what happened to the bookish boy I was watching...”

“...”

The once-bookish boy had nothing for that. Nothing could be said without Everything hot on its’ heels.

He shook his head again, glancing absentmindedly away and back down to the papers he’d been perusing before Rudolf interrupted him. ”Is there anything else you require of me? I do need to get back to figuring out what I can give the lot of you to keep you on your travels, Jorunn made it clear that she was leaving that much to me, and I know Kayliss would probably come start sticking her knives in me herself if I let anything bad happen to you all...”

“Jorunn?” Rudolf inquired, buying a little extra time to think. There was something gnawing at him that he couldn’t place, right on the tip of his tongue. One last way to impose. His eyes followed in the wake of his host’s, falling onto the blade he’d leaned onto the shelf.

”My sister?”

The scarred boy blinked once, then leaned forward, flattening his affect to a dull, insincere monotone.

”I’ve never met that person in my life.”

Please, let me get away with playing this off as a bit.

”...”

Halvor looked up at Rudolf silently for a moment, face a perfectly still, unreadable mask. The moment stretched on without any sound save for their breathing and whatever noise came from the rest of the manor, before he looked back down at his papers. ”Just like your uncle. Knew I should have listened when he warned me. First you stroll into my study, trying to frighten me with shadows, wheedle materia and gems out of my grasp, and now this? Fuck off with you.”

Rudolf pried a smirk free from the dead-eyed, head-tilted Esben impersonation the moment had seen him resort to.

“I thought he was pleasant, sir? ‘Delightful’, you told me?”

”Go to bed, boy.”

Chuckling, Rudolf gathered his things in short order, reaching over to pluck the greatsword from where it laid. True as ever, the blade moved as though an extension of his arm, a conduit for his countless sleepless nights of hard labor, of honing meager skill to as fine an edge as he could hold..

“I will,” he reassured with a small nod of the head. “But like I said, I favor the night for training. More room to move, more room to focus. There’s a good spot, out in the courtyard, for me to get my rounds in with this guy.”

A deep breath, a half turn away. A wistful remark, floating in the precipice.

“I grumble about the curse all the time, but you should see how it moves in a trained hand… It’d put anything in the armory to shame. If it didn’t sing so well under the moonlight, I would hardly have such need to beg at your feet.”

Halvor glanced up once. ”We’re all going to have a busy day tomorrow,” he warned. ”I can’t chain you in your room and force you to sleep, but I’d recommend you get the rest you can.”

”Pinky swear.” he vowed, lifting his smallest digit as if as proof. ”I won’t be out there too long. I got too used to the northern warmth. I’ll look forward to whatever this surprise you’ve got planned for me is. ‘Till then…”

He was still much too new to walking through the dark to leave the room by any other means but the door.

“You get some rest too, Halvor.”