Michellin

Wanderers

Kire straightened up, clapped her hands once. “Right. I can do that. I’d be happy to, it’s the least I could do.” Even before their exile, Kire was familiar with the kind of work involved in overseeing a camp or shelter, though of course she had a well-fed and compensated assemblage of people who would carry on the actual tasks of managing a refugee camp, or a province in need after a battle or natural disaster. After leaving the Capital, Kire had to experience the grunt work herself. Already she was inspecting the meager rations around the makeshift kitchen. For the long term, she knew it’d be best if they had tools, weapons, training. If they could farm, and find a source of water for irrigation, all the better. She could plan for that later, after her mission. For now, supplies. “How many days do you need?” she asked. “I may—disappear now and then within that time, but I’ll be back here.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon exploring their immediate surroundings, already imagining how they could use the land to thrive. Before she could lose the daylight, she disappeared into the surrounding woods to hunt and gather firewood. By evening she had managed to catch and clean some fowl. Kire inspected her work, unsatisfied. They need more. At least for the next couple of days.

It wouldn’t be until well past noon the next day when she returned with several sacks in tow. Herbs, for medicine and cooking, and various cuts of cured meats. She was grateful to have a healer in the family, and for the fact that in the much colder Northern Amrian territories, preserving rations was something of a specialty. And in her satchel was a bag of coin. She didn’t really think they would have the same kind of currency, but she hoped gold would at least have some value here, too. She grimaced, remembering her promises to be careful. The day she spent back home was a quick blur of her and her cousins working together even as she tried to fill them in on everything that had happened, and them mouthing off to her out of worry. In the end, however, after she told them about Ziad’s refugees, they quieted down their objections. They didn’t need to say out loud that they understood.

While she was alone in the kitchen, she busied herself with organizing their provisions, meaning to look for Envy afterward to ask who she could entrust the gold to. “Well. That’s looking more and more like a proper pantry,” she murmured, stepping back, as she dug into her satchel to chew on a sweet.

Wanderers

“Nothing’s ever exact, is it?” Kire remarked with a small smile before it disappeared, frowning as she sunk into thought. “Ziad was probably the last time he had exposed his magic on that magnitude. Either he and his doll, this Akuma, had found a way to operate more discreetly, or they’ve just been lying in wait all this time.” Not likely. She pondered, too, on his other question. “For some reason, it’s always been traces of him, not him, that I could follow. I haven’t seen him create as sophisticated a doll as this Akuma, so he might have been acting through her. He’s all about glamour; I I’ve only ever seen his real face once behind the masks and illusions he’d weave around himself.”

She listened to him explain the complications behind giving her a disguise, which she had expected. She’d watched her cousin as well as other sorcerers and alchemists at their work, and good work always took time. “I can wait. Can I help? What do you need for it? Either with the enchantments, or with anything that needs doing around here. I don’t want to be dead weight and be idle, and it’d distract me from being reminded that I look like the person that drove them all away from Ziad,” she added with a shrug of a shoulder.

Wanderers

Kire chewed her food, observing the exchange. What had gotten her so upset about a supply run? Ysaryn was a curious elf—both calm and intense. Kire wondered what she would be like on the battlefield. Turning her attention back to Envy, she huffed at the question of what, exactly, to describe her situation. “Predicament is quite an understatement. Quest, perhaps. Mission might be appropriate. And I can talk and eat, if you don’t mind that.”

Still, she continued for a few more moments with her meal without talking, thinking it over. “His kind of magic is rather—expensive. Figuratively speaking, because of the power and sacrifices it would entail, and also literally. He requires gems for that. And so far I’ve managed to get my hands on a couple he’s used on his dolls. The second I found at Ziad, attached to a Kartaian corpse that attacked me when I got close. Like I told Rulitus, I don’t think the—elfs? Elves? Know about that particular feature of Ikegai’s magic.” She huffed, shaking her head. “I was wondering if there’s a way to track his whereabouts through the gems I had confiscated. And I was wondering if there’s anything to be done about my appearance.” She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s like walking around with a target.”

Wanderers

The venison wasn’t too terrible. Kire had done worse. When Ysaryn turned, though, Kire paused in time to see Envy arrive. It still took a second to remember that this particular Kartaian wasn’t going to abduct her or slice her in two. “I’m here,” she said, waiting to see if he needed help. “Rather late of me to say so, but my apologies for the rude awakening last night.” Her eyes wandered to his scars. Such horrible pain that must have been. “Thank you for your help and hospitality. The room was more than enough lodging. And nobody’s tried jumping me yet for having her face.” She couldn’t speak the name yet, some irrational fear that she’d be tracked the moment she did, or she’d be summoning her and Ikegai to this place just by invoking the name.

Wanderers

Kire was quiet, thoughtful as Ysaryn spoke. Her words were oddly comforting; though the elf couldn’t have known about what had happened that had led Kire’s path here, hearing those words from her felt like a vindication that she was on the right path. That she wasn’t just throwing herself at danger to punish herself, as her cousins believed. Purpose. Kire wanted to feel that again, beyond her deep well of anger that fueled her drive for vengeance.

She watched the elf inspect the venison, listening to her appraisal of Rulitus. Her opinion of the man made sense, and Kire’s mind drifted back to that first encounter she had, when she sensed that aura from him. It wasn’t just the disappearing trick, and Ysaryn confirmed it. Kire nodded at her. “Perfect sense. I’ve known people like that. And he—he’s a lot—broken, it seems. I’m still shocked he decided to help me at all. But I’ll take whatever help I could get.” She tore off a small piece and chewed on it. “It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, though. I’ve been stabbed in the back too often.”

Then Kire paused, looking up at her. “’Magic like mine’?” She smirked. “I suppose that’s what the wards are for? Not just to let you know someone’s at the door? Or did something else tip you off?”

Wanderers

Kire raised an eyebrow at Rulitus’s greeting and was about to prepare a retort when Ysaryn beat her to the punch. Looking from him to the Shadow Elf, she waited to see if she needed to step in between the two of them or if the tension will resolve on its own. It looked as if Ysaryn’s first impression of Rulitus was the exact opposite of her current disposition towards her, and Kire wasn’t sure whether to find this amusing or to feel a little sorry for Ruli. Then again, he seems to have the tendency to court that kind of attitude. He slunk away without much of a fight, however, and the two women were left alone in the kitchen.

“I could use a bath, myself,” she remarked, “but food, first.” The venison looked burnt on one side and undercooked on the other, so she took over turning it on the spit. She still was no good cook, but having most of one’s royal comforts taken away, Kire had to learn some basic necessities. “I’m—something of a chieftain, myself. Back home. And like you, it means little at the moment.” Kire shrugged a shoulder as she prepared the meat. She was ravenous, but fully aware that she was under the hospitality of refugees, she didn’t take a lot. Kire ate, lapsing into silence for a while. “You don’t trust him, do you?” she asked. “He’s not the most pleasant. But he seems—alright,” she finished lamely, rolling her eyes at her own feeble attempt to defend him. There really wasn’t a lot she could say, and given that she would’ve snapped at him too if Ysaryn hadn’t beat her to it, it was a little hypocritical.

Wanderers

Kire listened to Ysaryn answer her questions and decided she liked her even more, even as her mind tried to wrap itself around her explanation of her race. Elf? It sounded like those children’s tales back home, about a time when magic was everywhere and dragons were plentiful. Kire gave her a small smile as Ysaryn noted how her opinion of Envy changed. “I hope they do glance a second time,” she murmured. They were all taking a leap of faith. Even Kire, after having been burned badly by Ikegai and the Gemini back home.

“Your guardian?” Kire cocked her head. “You seem to be rather a capable woman already.” She paused, thoughtful. “Are you—authority back home? Like a princess?” She wasn’t sure if they had such things here. “I am curious why you’ve decided to stay here.” She thought about what Ysaryn had told her of her home. “I suppose it must be nicer here, not being hated the way you are back home.”

Kire’s stomach growled, and she grimaced. “Do you have food to spare? I can gladly forage, or find my own meal. And—” she looked around, “—I don’t suppose you’ve seen Rulitus, have you?”

Wanderers

As she observed the refugees, Kire could tell she wasn’t welcome, whether or not they recognized her face. The haunted look was familiar; she had seen the same on her own family, on her people, even on herself. Even without her armor, the sword at her hip probably didn’t help. Kire sighed; sad as it was, this was more logical to her that Envy’s leap of faith, and their wariness of strangers might serve them better. Maybe I could find a way to help them later.

Ysaryn, though, was a bright spot amid the somber group, though Kire’s nose twitched at the smell wafting from whatever it was she was holding. She smirked at the greeting, shaking her head a little at the teasing. “Heh. ‘Sleeping beauty’ would’ve liked to sleep off the whole day if she could. Good morni—uh, afternoon, Ysaryn.” She sat opposite the woman, aware of the looks cast her way. “They don’t like my face so much around here, I’m afraid,” she remarked, apologetic for any attention or frightened behavior her presence elicited. “So. I am—from very, very far away and know precious little about anything around here. What do you call your people? Envy is Kartaian, you are different, but a little similar.” She paused to drink from her waterskin. “And the man with you. Are you related?”

Wanderers

Kire, too, was surprised at the offer of hospitality, even if it was the outcome she had hoped for. Just like that, she thought, same as Ruli, but she wasn’t going to contest the offer of a room and bed, any bed. “Thank you,” she said simply, and followed Ruli out the chamber. She didn’t question why he didn’t take the path down to the sleeping quarters; it felt in keeping with how she had appraised his character at this point. So she went on to the path Envy had indicated, found a vacant room with spartan furnishings: a mattress not unlike Envy’s, blankets, a couple of crates that served as makeshift chairs. It was accommodation enough; their months on the run had acclimated her to a life absent of the comforts she had grown up with. Besides, it was much better than sleeping in the ruins of Ziad.

“Thank the gods, rest.” Kire finally set down her belongings, her sword, undid her armor. Gods, that felt good. She lifted her tunic to inspect her side and clicked her tongue, seeing a sword-shaped bruise running along the side. Sighing, she pulled off her boots lazily and crawled onto the mattress, asleep within minutes. That night, she mercifully didn’t have dreams, too bone-tired for her mind to play their usually nightmares.

It was already just past midday when she woke with a start. Groaning, Kire eased herself off the makeshift bed. While her body still had some stiffness, the bruise was almost gone. She scanned her belongings and found to her satisfaction that nobody had tried to rob her in the night. What time is it? Being in a cool mountain chamber had disoriented her. Lazily, she pulled on her boots, strapped her sword belt around her waist, grabbed her waterskin and stepped outside, meaning to peek out the entrance of the cave.

Under the light of day, the clothes she wore would have given the impression of being well-made but clearly had seen better days. They also hinted at the form underneath: leaner times had made her thinner than she had been six months prior, and fighting to survive and be ready for the next crisis had given her more muscle. Sone of her other scars showed, like the old wound on her shoulder, and the tip of the three large scars on her back. “Gods above, I slept that long?” She cringed at the brightness, deciding she’d rather be in the cool chambers within, instead. Perhaps she could ask to refill her waterskin, and maybe a little food if they had any to spare. She wondered where Ruli had stayed if not inside the sleeping quarters.

Wanderers

Kire listened as Envy called upon Ruli to vouch for her and her story, which she honestly didn’t know whether to be a good thing or a bad thing. She was curious to know why Rulitus did decide to trust her enough to bring her here, and when he gave his answer, she huffed, leaning back. Hatred, huh. She supposed that made sense; there were days she felt like her frown at the thought of Ikegai and the people who had driven them out of the Capital was permanently etched on her face these days.

“Akuma,” she murmured under her breath. He even found a name for this doll that was a dark mirror of hers. She pursed her lips when Envy bade Ruli quiet down, piecing a few more things together about what had happened between the two. Something about trust, then, and how Akuma had betrayed theirs. Ruli’s guilt then—was he the first to trust her? She remembered how Ikegai had done the same, and she seethed at the thought, almost forgetting the question posed to her.

“To be honest, I’m not sure how he could have decided that. He was quite resolute in driving me out of the city and wanted nothing to do with me when he finally saw my face. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust me, either. I have family back home, I know how it feels to have let them down and put them in danger. I’ve paid for it, and then some.” She touched her scarred brow. “I have nothing to give except my word, the fact that I owe Ruli for not leaving me alone when the hunters came for me, and the fact of my hatred for Ikegai.” She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. “I’m not asking anyone to like me, or even to trust me. But I will deliver their heads to you, either way.”