A Duke's Day

The morning air nips at his sweat coated skin, spring still gripping the world with its frigid fingers even inside the Minx training hall. Allen had been awake for more than an hour already, waking as the first hints of dawn touched the sky, running his body through exercises and honing dusty skills. As sunlight creeps into the hall, a servant approaches with a towel ready. Allen sighs, making his way back into the manor for breakfast. He had a long day ahead of him.

"You're getting far too old for that kind of training," Evelyn admonishes him, eyeing Allen as he joins her at the table, "You should leave the fighting to younger men."

"And let Martin have all the fun?" Allen laughs, trying to make short work of his meal.

"General Stahlmann," Evelyn scoffs, "Would rather die a warrior than retire. You don't have that luxury."

"General Stahlmann," Allen snickers to himself, still finding Martin's claim to this familiar title amusing, "There's no telling how Ambrose plans to make use of me or what kind of opportunities will present themselves," Allen reasons between bites, "I'm a poor weapon left dull. Not being ready is the luxury I don't have. On that note..." Allen sighs, "Run me through the schedule."

Allen washes up and adorns the appropriate attire for a man of his status, readying  himself for another day at court. Once his appearance is immaculate enough to satisfy the fastidious criteria of his mother, Allen departs for the castle and arrives fairly early for the war meeting. He had requested to sit in, trying to get a grasp on the current state of the kingdom and show Ambrose he is serious. 

"Gunther Stahlmann!" Allen greets cheerily, approaching Martin and another male once inside, "I was surprised not to see you at my daughter's introduction. Where have you been hiding away?"

Gunther turns, a frown firmly planted on his broad face. The man was taller than Allen but his once muscular body had become plump and flabby with age. 

"I could ask you the same, Minx," Gunther bites, ever acerbic, and narrows his eyes despite Allen's amicable demeanor, "Thought those savages might've gotten you. Pity." Allen maintains his pleasant smile despite the man's words and even chuckles. 

"I heard you had your own adventures on the frontier as well?" Allen questions, his eyes sliding to Gunther's missing arm.

Gunther's expression sours further at the memory. Nothing remains of this limb, even his shoulder is seemingly torn out. It was a wonder he survived. Both Martin and Gunther were considerably more scarred and battered than Allen. 

"I still question," Martin rumbles, "How you're the only one among us left untattered without a lick of defensive magic!" Gunther also squints at Allen, always having loathed his seeming luck.

"Well," Allen muses, his eyes drifting in performed consideration, "It's hard for a foe to injure you when they're already dead!"

This manages to draw out some laughter from Martin but Gunther remains stony, much like Allen had been before his departure. Allen much prefers his new style, banter and deflection laced with humor and an amicable poker face as compared to Gunther's dour mask. It certainly leaves the politics more tolerable.

"It still sickens me," Gunther spits, shifting the conversation, "Marrying one of them."

"Marriage is certainly an interesting topic to broach," Allen answers, sounding amused, "The unions I missed while I was away still astound me!" he pauses to grin at Martin, "You even roped this old curmudgeon into your House. 'Marquis Martin Stahlmann'!"

"He got me as well, I'm afraid," a male voice sounds from across the room, by the window.

"Marcus!" Allen greets happily, recognizing the man immediately. 

His hair had gone entirely white and well worn lines mark his face now but Allen easily recognizes his once rival. Marcus is rangy and lean despite his age with keen golden eyes. Unlike with Gunther, their rivalry had been one of mutual respect and clean competition. It doesn't surprise Allen that his daughter seems to carry herself with the same sense of honor. 

"Well, I'd say you made out like a bandit," Allen jokes, glancing to Martin again significantly who grumbles his own distaste at the joke. 

"Quite the mouth on this one," a woman hisses, sliding through the door behind them, "This is the great Allen Minx?"

Allen swings around, blinking at the unfamiliar voice. It belongs to an equally unfamiliar face. Anyone could tell at a glance the woman has discerning eyes and a powerful will. Her warm tawny complexion is embellished by vibrant garments and burnished jewelry. The woman is visibly lithe and athletic, carrying herself with ample confidence. 

"If anyone has a mouth on them," Martin retorts as she continues toward her seat, glaring at the lot of them, "It's you, Nia."

"Nia...?" Allen questions, waiting for an introduction.

"This is General Nia Samrawit," Marcus answers for her, leaving his perch by the window, "Mobile Division."

"Oh?" Allen hums, smiling and turning to Nia, "I'm impressed! Not many could wrest that position away from the Chevalier. It's a pleasure to meet you!" 

"Don't waste your flattery," Nia answers coolly, eying Allen and seeming unimpressed. 

"That's hardly an appropriate way to greet your senior," Ambrose chides as he enters alone, Ghislaine absent for once. They all pause to bow as he strides to his place at the table before finding their way to their own seats. "You'll find Duke Minx too honest for flattery, General Samrawit. A joke or two though?" Ambrose's laughter is almost a hum, "Seems his new hobby." 

Nia presses her lips together but remains silent. Allen glances to the other seats at the table, unsurprised to find so many empty. Most of the kingdom's generals were likely in the field. His eyes slide over the map, the kingdom appearing to have a number of active frontiers but not nearly as many as he had expected. Allen is most surprised to see the border with Ilnid's empire gutted of troops. Most of the kingdom's forces seem to be stationed in Ralgotar's Palm, and the isles further south, or within the rainforests of Luxis' Cradle.

"General Aquila," Ambrose addresses him formally, "What is the news from the Isthmus?"

"No changes, I'm afraid," Marcus' reply is grim, "The Huntsman intercepted another supply run. We're still unable to reclaim the fort and rations are running low in our camps. We can't make a proper drop through the canopy."

Allen watches Gunther's scowl deepen at the mention of the Huntsman, a brutal and mysterious adversary few walk away from. He acts as a guardian over the region and his people, a man of unnatural size and varying forms. They haven't identified his racial magic yet, the intense variety and drastic transformations mystifying their tacticians, but suspect he may be a descendant of Banalkar or even Lunil. It was the Huntsman and his men who took Gunther's arm, his fort and his wife and if the rumors were true, he had crippled Gunther with his bare teeth. He was a plague to the kingdom's southern expansion.

"General Stahlmann," Ambrose looks to Martin as he speaks, "How much longer do you need for preparations?"

"Another week, at least," Martin answers, unhappy with his own answer, "I'm still sorting out a new member for my unit."

"Maybe his replacement won't be such a louse," Nia bites, not seeming to have been fond of Ben.

Allen couldn't shake his own resentment for the boy either, despite feeling a touch of pity for him, and Martin also fails to come to his son's defense. Even Gunther is displeased with the mention of his nephew. 

"What was his position?" Allen questions, drawing Martin out of contemplation.

"Mid-range," Martin is quickly curious and Ambrose's eyes land on Allen as well, "Why?"

Allen is silent, studying the map and terrain. Ambrose recognizes his expression and looses a distinct laugh, catching everyone by surprise.

"When you offered your services," Ambrose speaks with amusement, "I certainly didn't consider that was your intention."

"Well," Allen responds with a smile, "This kind of affair is my specialty." 

"While you were still a soldier!" Martin protests, catching on to his suggestion, "You're not in any shape to fight and you don't have the training anymore!"

"Who said I ever stopped training?" Allen answers carefully, Martin blinking into his claim, but Allen is quick to don a mischievous grin, "We can have a bout if you need proof?" 

"I'll pass on that," Martin declines and gives a bark of a laugh, "I don't need you making a fool outta me at this age!" 

"I might take you up on that," Nia interjects without any ounce of humor, locking eyes with Allen.

"That won't be necessary," Ambrose's voice cuts through the tension, "If this is how you wish to prove yourself, Allen," they hold each others' gazes, "I expect results."

Allen returns to the manor once the meeting concludes, taking on more of his mother's lessons during lunch. Even after a week, he had only just begun. These sessions ranged from managing House business and running their estates to catching up on the politics and major events he had missed, hearing current rumors and covering the status of the other Houses. Every interlocking detail of the life he had abandoned. Evelyn was hard at work in her own way, spending most of her day as a socialite and keeping up with the rumor mills of the capital, even twisting around gossip carefully planted by Ghislaine regarding shifters. In the evenings, Allen attends various social events. Tonight he finds his way to the great hall of Aquila Manor. 

"What is it like, in Nippon?" a young women questions Allen, one of many flocking about him, "Do they truly never show their forms?"

"Those of high status or wealth are quite private in that regard, yes," Allen answers in a neutral tone, struggling to maintain his amicable front as lashes bat at him attentively, "Particularly among the nobility. But this becomes less prevalent in the countryside."

"Is that why you're being so shy with us tonight?" one of the bolder among them chimes, Allen's smile straining, "I've never seen a minx before. I've heard they're quite handsome creatures!"

"When you get to my age," Allen states, giving a significant glance to the woman who was clearly at least half his age, "You may learn there is some value in modesty." The woman appears to choke on her own embarrassment, falling silent, but another is quick to vie for his attention. 

"I see no reason for you to be modest," the second insists, "Any woman would be lucky to catch your eye. You hardly look a day over thirty!"

"You flatter me," Allen forces another pleasant wisp of a smile despite his distaste, "But it would be better to save your compliments for another, more available man," he watches as all of their smiles waver, "My grief is still far too fresh, ladies. A man in mourning makes for a terrible husband."

Marcus' gaze sweeps those attending his elder daughter's return party, catching on Allen as his expression tightens.

He watches a flush work its way up the man's neck and is quick to step to the flock of young women gathered about him. 

"Excuse me, ladies," Marcus interjects, eyes still caught on Allen's clenched jaw, "I'd like to have a word with Duke Minx, if you don't mind." 

Despite a string of partially dampened frowns, they offer polite smiles and bows of their heads to the noblemen before slipping away. A choppy chuckle breaks from Marcus' lungs, watching Allen's frustration slip further from his facade in their absence. 

"Last time I saw that expression," Marcus hums, his eyes skimming over the attendees as he speaks, "Three men died!" a single sniff of a laugh slips from Allen at the memory, quickly followed by a grimace, "I'd rather not have young, ambitious vultures haunting my home. What did the young lady say?"

"Gods," Allen breathes, his shoulders dropping as he smothers his temper, "I forget what a reckless fool I was. Just more aggressive flirting and offering to fill the void in my bed," Allen bites with considerable distaste.

"Gods...?" Marcus questions, raising a brow at him. Another quick laugh emerges from Allen before a more somber and pained expression settles into place.

"Another mark left on me," Allen admits wistfully, "By my wife."

"I see..." Marcus allows a silence to persist between them as he contemplates, "She must have been quite remarkable," Allen blinks as he continues, light laughter touching his tone, "To hold your interest. You were quite the heartbreaker in our day!"

"No other woman could compare," Allen's voice is soft, pain pulling at the corners of his eyes, "Her influence over me is indelible."

"I often find myself acting as though Millie is still with us," Marcus admits, "I still see her before the mantle, humming a lullaby for the babe in her belly."

"Millicent had a way of breathing life into any gathering," Allen states in consolation, earning the briefest smile from Marcus, "I'm sorry to have missed her passing."

"Unfortunately," Marcus states with a sigh, "The court won't wait for us to overcome our grief, not men of our station. And these women aren't the only vultures to contend with, either."

"So I've noticed," Allen states with an acrid frown, "I shouldn't be surprised so many have built their futures on the fall of my House. The court is somehow even more cutthroat than I recall."

"Much has changed since you left," Marcus agrees, "The balance between houses as been skewed by the unions of Gunther's sisters, my Millie and Beatrice," Allen chuckles at the mention of Martin's marriage, "And his majesty has been considering marrying the royalty of our larger territories into our nobility or even passing Houses to them."

"I've heard as much," Allen notes, recalling Ambrose's interest in his own marriage, "A necessary adaption, if we wish to keep hold of our conquests moving forward."

"Yes well," Marcus half scoffs, "It's left our own ravenous for influence. The Chevalier in particular are scrounging for power, after a considerable scandal and your mother's charities challenging their practices. Something for you to keep your eye on."

"I appreciate the warning," Allen notes before popping up a brow at Marcus, "How did I earn the helping hand?"

"You're about to," Marcus answers with the slightest smile, "Certainly nothing will come of it but I promised my daughter an introduction!"

"I see," Allen winces, pulling together a pleasant expression nonetheless, "I don't know how you can stomach such a task."

"Allen Minx," Marcus states in amusement, "An overprotective father!" he offers a bark of a laugh, "Afraid she'll fall for the same tricks you used to employ?"

"Gods, I hope not," Allen gives a harsh grimace, "Let's get this over with then!"

After another exhausting hour entertaining the advances of ambitious women, Allen is able to excuse himself from the party. This excessive flirting has by far been the most sickening and exhausting flavor added to his life knowing he was still a married man. Allen had let his old life rot but now reviving it had become necessity. He would need every advantage he could get if he wanted to be of help to his daughter. Allen staggers into his quarters late into the evening. He is unprepared for what awaits him, his knees buckling when his eyes land on Mina waiting beyond his balcony door. 

The Enchantress

The battlefield is a mess of shadows and fire, as chaotic as those sparring within. The caster conjuring these shadows pushes and pulls them about under the direction of her silver-eyed cohort, both girls struggling to accommodate their yet unpredictable new allies. Despite how highly they are regarded Aisling still questions the integrity of her unit, only two within the battlefield possessing the sight necessary to freely navigate her palls. Fiadh she knew well enough, both girls having trained together since childhood, but the rest of her cohorts were difficult to synchronize with. Lucy's handicap and relative inexperience with guidance only worsens this unfortunate snag. Bridget, Renard and Everett were particularly hindered by her manipulations, struggling to support or coordinate attacks within the darkness.

"That was deplorable!" Andrea fumes, most of their team banged up and irritable despite their victory, "Were you two even trying to keep up with me?"

"It isn't Aisling's fault," Fiadh snaps back for her taciturn companion, "You keep charging in like an invulnerable porcupine! How many times did you run Yang through today?"

Fiadh is short and thickset with a honey beige complexion, freckles and green eyes. She has a preference for dark or even gothic clothing and her ginger coils of hair pop against her dark makeup. She can be fierce, eerie and imposing or prim, morose and sharp tongued depending on her mood.

"Oh, please," Andrea laughs, "We all know she runs into me on purpose, blind or not. Any excuse to get blasted again!"

"What can I say?" Yang titters in response, seeming to revel in the damage she received this round as she runs her fingers over her own bloodied flesh, "It's all so delicious...!"

Andrea was beginning to wonder if her roommate dressed so scantily in anticipation of the injuries she hoped to sustain. As usual Yang is painted with her own blood, a number of fresh wounds continuing to contribute to this visage—some of which were almost certainly self-inflicted. Fiadh looses an irritable sigh at her ragged appearance, gesturing toward Yang and engulfing the girl in flame. Yang lilts with invigorated laughter as her body absorbs the blaze, the heat restoring flesh and closing her wounds. Some might envy Yang's regenerative abilities but Andrea found them disgusting.

"She isn't wrong," Danut drones, having watched most of their activities clearly from above, "Our coordination is disgraceful."

"Ehhh," Everett jumps in with a shrug, "We're getting better. Renard didn't get blown up this time!" Renard grimaces at the memory of a previous incident. 

"That isn't going to last very long," Andrea snorts, "If most of us can't see a damn thing!"

"Well that's it then!" Bridget chimes in, clapping her hands together, "We just need the right equipment!" an array of befuddled and uncertain gazes land on Bridget, her idea not registering, "Enchantments," Bridget clarifies, "We need equipment enchanted with some form of shadow sight for those of us without!"

They all blink and pause to consider, digesting the possibility. Everett beams and gives her a supportive thumbs up during the silence while Andrea and Renard's eyes lock, the silent exchange triggering another snort from Andrea. 

"That could work..." Aisling speaks plainly, "If we had enough credits." 

Aisling is pale with blue eyes and thin black hair. Much like Fiadh, she has a love for black lace and dark makeup. She is thin and long limbed with a spidery appearance and a delicate face. Aisling is reserved and seemingly flat, her nose often in a cryptic book, and she usually lets Fiadh do the talking for her.

"I mean shouldn't we?" Lucy peeps, trying to sound cheerful, "We've been doing really well!"

"Enchantments are expensive," Danut spells out clearly, "That many will require far more than we have accumulated thus far. But... a mage-in-training may not charge nearly the same fee." 

"Oh I am not dealing with any mages today!" Andrea growls avidly, her sentiment clearly shared as no one seems willing to take on the task. Andrea's eyes land on Euan, hanging back casually while his unit bickers, and she smirks before continuing, "This whole unit was made for you, why don't you take some responsibility for that?"

"No' this shite again," Euan complains, crossing his arms.

"She has a point," Danut agrees readily, "As our leader, you are responsible for the balance of the unit."

"How many times do I have t' tell ye, bat-brain," Euan sneers, instantly earning a murky frown from his roommate, "Am not th' leader! Why should I get shite fur th' lot o' ye? I can see just fine!"

"I am not a bat!" Danut asserts vehemently, his scowl accented by the intensified scarlet gleam in his eyes as he spreads his wings behind him. The rest of the party braces themselves for yet another heated argument but Bridget jumps in before it can escalate any further.

"It doesn't matter who the leader is," Bridget insists, stepping between them and giving Danut a pouty frown before facing Euan, "The rest of us really need this equipment, Euan," she entreats him, "And we need someone charming enough to convince them to help us!"

Bridget is petite and plump with with short ginger hair and big brown eyes. She has a bright and lively personality but is also rather protective of her allies. Like Euan, she enjoys using explosives in battle, able to manipulate them from a distance.

Andrea scoffs, finding Bridget's tactics pathetic, and Euan easily recognizes her blatant sweet talking. Bridget seems to hold her breath, searching his eyes with her endearing brown orbs, and Euan frowns as he feels his defiance faltering. He finds himself reluctant to expose Bridget to Andrea's criticism and he knows she means well. Even Danut is equally deflated.

"Fine," Euan finally relents, reigniting the eyes of his spunky fellow pyro, and she actually bounces, "Where am I going?"

Euan had seen the mysterious mages-in-training in passing but most tended to stick to their own groups, rarely leaving the school during the day. The top floor of the building is devoted entirely to mages. He had heard they possess many of their own facilities and even their own common area on the roof. Mages of the kingdom are eerily insulative. They travel together in groups, socialize only with each other and even have their own obtuse culture. The easiest way to identify a mage is by the ostentatious cloaks they never go without. There seems to be a color system in place but that's all Euan had managed to work out. 

Euan strolls through these halls, glancing at the signs of the rooms he passes. Eyes are on him as he continues his search, already finding himself frowning as whispers sound between student mages. This grows progressively worse as he delves further in, haughty expressions surrounding him and some even appearing offended by his gall to trespass their domain.

Finally, his eyes catch on a sign engraved with the letters Bridget had scribbled down for him. Euan hadn't needed to read as a bandit and hasn't quite gotten the hang of Accian monograms yet. As he approaches the room, a prim and icy girl slides between him and the door. She is willowy and her complexion is as light as her hair is dark while her cerulean eyes match her arctic aura.

"I'm sorry," she hums, her cheery tone opposing this apology, and she gestures for Euan to stop, "This workshop is occupied. Though..." she pauses to look him over with an expression of distaste, "What use could you even have here?"

"Oh, how kind o' ye!" Euan speaks dramatically, not bothering to water down his dialect for the snobby girl, "Tae offer me directions. Am looking fur wan o' yer enchanters-in-training?"

"I think you're confused," the girl titters back unflustered, "These rooms, this floor, is for mages not... whatever it is you are." 

"I can be whitever ye want me t' be," Euan retorts, his tone suggestive, and pauses to look her up and down as she had done, "But I dinnae if yer th' mage Am looking fur. Whit's teal mean? Are ye a nanny, maybe housekeeping?"

"How dare you!" she snaps heatedly, earning a quick smirk from Euan, "It means I am supposed to be here and you are not. We have rules that you are clearly too dense to understand!"

"Oh I love rules," Euan cackles into her tirade, "Thir ma second favorite thing t' break!"

"Lumi!" a voice shouts severely from behind the door, "If you must linger out there you can at least-" her voice grows louder as she stomps to the door but she falls silent after swinging it open, "Oh...!" she breathes, her eyes looking Euan over before landing on his face and she seems to recognize him, "You're that... shadow step guy, right?" 

Euan blinks and ogles her himself. She's a full head or more shorter than him, petite and unathletic but otherwise obscured by loose-fitted clothing. Her face possesses striking features and her attentive eyes whir with wild machinations despite their mellow chocolate hue. This matches her hair, fine strands slipping sporadically from her attempt to bind it up and out of her way. Her clothing is designed for comfort and practicality with an impressive array of pockets, each stuffed with various magic components and materials. An odd set of goggles hang around her neck and well-worn gloves, stitched with various letters and symbols, stretch nearly to her elbows but leave her index fingers and thumbs exposed and unimpeded. 

"I am that shadow step guy," Euan confirms with a smirk, Lumi frowning when she beams back at him, "An' what about you?"

"An-" she begins to answer but Lumi clears her voice to cut her off. Her face automatically drops into an intolerant frown.

"My lady," Lumi begins, her sweet tone surprising Euan, "Your schedule today is still-"

"I know the schedule," the girl snaps, firm but impatient, "And I am well ahead. Right now, I'm working on experiments. In fact..." her eyes slide back to Euan, watching her with a measure of amusement, "I'd love to get a look at such a rare form!"

"Get a look, huh?" Euan echoes, his smile broadening, "If that's what ye want..."

"I don't think that would be appropriate!" Lumi insists in a high tone, giving the girl a look. Euan watches the exchange, the tiny girl looking as if she might rupture every time Lumi speaks.

"Lumi," she answers with haggard restraint, "I'm just going to ask him a few questions and, if he agrees, get a sample," she pauses, as if waiting for an answer, but joyfully cuts Lumi off when she is about to protest, "Ten minutes, just ten minutes!"

"Alright," Lumi agrees reluctantly, squinting at Euan, "I'll be just outside." She states this more for Euan than the girl. Euan turns to Lumi as he crosses the threshold.

"Bite ma bawsack," Euan taunts her from inside, "Ye radge wee shite!"

He can see Lumi's face broil red as he snaps the door shut. When Euan turns, he finds the second girl quivering but as she turns it becomes apparent she is shaking from barely contained laughter, her face taught with amusement as she sniggers quietly. 

"Fuuuck," she breathes with an extended sigh, settling herself against her workbench and catching Euan off guard, "I'm sorry about her she's... well she's awful."

The girl waits as Euan has a look around. The workshop is messy and most of the components laying about are unfamiliar to him. Various crystals, metals, herbs and unfamiliar tools are strewn about or piled onto shelves. He also spots the girl's cloak hanging by the door, a flashy white unlike others he'd seen today.

"Was that normal fur mages?" Euan is more wary of how he speaks now, bringing his attention back to her. She blinks at him, surprised but lacking the haughtiness of her peers.

"You're not..." she tries to choose her words carefully, "Familiar with Accian mages?"

"No' really," Euan answers, less than pleased with his experience thus far. He was beginning to understand Andrea's reluctance.

"Yes, that was normal," she answers him with an exhausted tone and then gives a scornful laugh, "Every single day...! But, that aside," she steadies her expression into an warm smile, "I'm Annie!" 

"Euan," he answers, popping up an eyebrow, "So, whit's this about a 'sample'?" 

"Oh," Annie answers, laughing despite her blush, "I was being serious about wanting to study your abilities! But..." she leers to the door, able to spot the shadows of Lumi's feet underneath, and she drops her voice down to a whisper, "I actually wanted to ask for a favor." 

"I might be willing t' work out a deal," Euan offers, "Whit's the favor?"

"Can you..." Annie seems a bit hesitant, Euan waiting as she makes up her mind, "Sneak me out of here?"

"Sneak ye out?" Euan chuckles, "Really?" Annie releases a burst of a sigh in response, averting her eyes. 

"As you can see," Annie whispers, glancing to the door and gesturing as she makes her point, "I'm on a very short leash. I can't take two fucking steps without one of them right up my ass!"

"Ye got a foul mouth," Euan snickers, procuring another blush, "Fur such a wee pretty lass."

"Lady Anne?" Lumi inquires, suspicious of the silence. Annie shakes, looking as if she might explode again. 

"Lumi!" Annie chastises her fervidly, "I'm working!" After a moment of silence she continues whispering to Euan, "Please, I can make it worthwhile!" 

"I am looking fur some enchantments," Euan propositions, looking about the workshop, "Can ye make me a few things?" Annie appears astonished again, his request seeming to mystify her, and he wonders if she isn't the enchantress he's looking for but her face lights up a second later.

"Absolutely!" Annie agrees, utterly beaming, "Can you get me out of here?"

Euan offers her his hand with a chaotic grin, manifesting his form. Annie is breathless, eying Euan and then his markings enthusiastically as her mind drifts to her research and various other possibilities before snapping back to the moment with some embarrassment. She turns to grab her cloak on impulse but hesitates, smiling and deciding to leave it. She takes Euan's hand with a grin of her own.

Euan pulls her to one of the dimly lit corners of her workspace, the both of them easily melting through the shadow. Annie gasps as gravity fades, gripping Euan more eagerly as her senses fail her, but this quickly gives over to exuberance.

"Azowyr's Plane!" Annie breathes, her eyes flitting blindly, "Its the shadow plane... so..." she mutters to herself before deliberately releasing Euan's hand.

Annie pulls her goggles around her eyes, fumbling as she feels out their edges. She circles their perimeter with her fingers, their engravings illuminating dully as they pass. She gazes about the plane again with new eyes, her face lit by both wonder and curiosity. She catches herself getting lost in thought again, becoming overly aware of Euan's silence. He's floating patiently nearby, arms crossed and watching her with an amused smirk.

"S-sorry!" Annie apologizes, speaking quickly "I-I've never had the means to come here before!"

Annie begins spinning in the wrong direction and Euan moves to grab her, astonished when she corrects this herself. Annie reaches out around her, grabbing at the shadows. The stitched lines on her gloves glimmer faintly and she is able to navigate similarly to Euan with them. Her boots are similarly enchanted. 

"Color me impressed!" Euan praises.

"I just have a lot of toys," Annie replies, wobbling and unsteady despite her gear. 

"So," Euan continues, taking her hands again to steady her fidgeting, "Where do you want t' go?" Annie pauses to consider this freedom, an unfamiliar pleasure after so long.

"Where do normal recruits hang out?" Annie questions, uncertain. 

"I dinnae if I should be sad," Euan jokes, "Or impressed ye don't know that." 

"I-" Annie begins with a scowl but then stops herself to sigh, "I don't get to be normal anymore."

"Ye don't like being a mage?" Euan questions, pulling her towards the plaza.

"I love all of the magic shit," Annie reassures him, "But all these damn rules and snobby fucking mages drive me insane!"

Euan hums at the premise, tugging her along until he finds a suitable shadow in the plaza. He climbs though, lifting her up and out. She removes the goggles once they're both out and they fall back around her neck. Annie observes the plaza, other recruits lounging, socializing or walking by without giving her a second glance and she sighs with immense relief, almost seeming to melt as her tension fades.

"Thank you!" Annie breathes, getting comfortable in the grass across from Euan. He lets her take in a few minutes of peace and to soak in the sunlight before getting back to business.

"So..." Euan's rolls out, recapturing her attention, "I don't want t' rush ye but..."

"It's fine," Annie assure him, "You wanted an enchantment?"

"Enchantments," Euan corrects her, "Something like yer goggles there."

"These?" Annie questions in astonishment, lifting and glancing at them before laughing, "I don't think I could recreate another one of these easily!" 

"Fur seeing in shadows?" Euan questions and Annie blinks.

"Oh, no!" Annie corrects, "These do far more than just that! But," she pauses to give him a befuddled look, "Why do you need shadow-eye gear?"

"Well I obviously don't," Euan admits, "Buuut most of ma unit needs it. Hard t' fight together when most o' them cannae see."

"Okay," Annie confirms and runs the logistics through her mind, "Well, I'll need the objects you want enchanted and the help of someone with shadow sight."

"I think I hev at least one o' those covered," Euan answers, a bit snarky, "Is that really it? No weird catch?"

"I mean..." Annie hesitates, her face flushing, "I might, maybe, ask for more favors? H-how many did you need?"

"Six," Euan divulges with a light smile, enjoying the red on her face as he continues, "Whit about a 'favor' for each trinket?"

"Sure!" Annie agrees, feeling the heat on her cheeks, "Y-you're going to need to know where to find me though. Do you know where the mage quarters are?"

"Aye, all th' way south," Euan answers, "Just before th' staff quarters."

"Yes. My apartment," Annie explains, "Is in the center building on the top floor."

"Apartment?" Euan questions and she winces.

"Yes," Annie admits regretfully, "They only leave me alone there and in my workshop. Sort of. Just bring me the items you want enchanted and put a bit of time and energy aside when you're ready."

"Energy?" Euan questions.

"Yes...?" Annie regards him with a bit of confusion, "I need a sample of your magic for the enchantments."

"Ohhhhh," Euan breathes, finally realizing what she had meant.

Before he can think of anything snarky or flirty to respond with her eyes lock onto someone behind him and her face drops. Annie rises to her feet, Euan following suit. A mage in a blue cloak flanked by two security staff approach them. The mage presses his lips into a firm line as he and Euan leer at each other.

"Lady Anne," the mage greets, "You gave miss Lumi quite the scare. And you...!" 

"Aye?" Euan asks, popping an eyebrow at the man, his posture remaining casual despite the tension. 

"Do you have any idea who-" he begins to bluster.

"He," Annie cuts him off, her authoritative tone surprising Euan, "Was assisting me with my research, Instructor," she informs him smoothly but allows her irritation to touch her voice, "Euan is the only caster of Azowyr's Step I've encountered and has graciously agreed to assist me with planar research. I was very clear about this with Lumi!"

"I see," the instructor nearly deflates but quickly regains composure, "I understand your zeal for research, my Lady, and we all appreciate your labors. But please," his eyes narrow on Euan again, who is trying to follow the tedious exchange, "We only ask that you do so safely and properly!"

"Ye think the lass is gunnae shatter th' second she's out o' sight?" Euan derides. He can see the appreciation pass over Annie's face despite her sudden formal behavior. 

"Mr. Euan," the instructor addresses him with a belittling tone, "While it is kind of you to offer your aid and I understand our ways may seem strange to you, you have been incredibly inappropriate and disrespectful with our mistress!"

"Mistress?" Euan snorts. 

"Thank you again, Euan," Annie addresses him far more stiffly than she had thus far, "I would love to study Azowyr's Plane more carefully next time. Come find me when you are ready to supply the samples, perhaps tomorrow? It would be best to schedule an appointment but I'm sure we can work out some kind of recompense," she pauses to give him a genuine smile, "Thank you, I had a lovely time!" 

Euan offers her a lopsided smile, changing into a sneer for those here to collect her as she joins them. Annie clips on her cloak when it is offered to her and he stares after them when they're gone, marveling at the oddities of mages. 

Fake

"I don't know," Tia languishes, a bit disgruntled, "When I talk to him, there's this weird malaise and he looks as if he's in pain," she gestures with chopping motions, "Then, at the same time, he's laboriously courteous! Why would he bother?"

"You're not used to politics, are you?" Aldric teases and she frowns at him. 

"No," Tia huffs, crossing her arms, "And I hope I never will be! Seriously though," Aldric blinks at her indifference to the fabric of  his life, "Every time I talk to him he gets this strained expression and goes totally stiff. Once again I've done something to offend one of my unit-mates and I have no clue what!"

"Why don't you just ask him?" Aldric suggests.

"I don't think he'll let me?" Tia reasons, her tone uncertain, "He clams up if I veer from anything superficial."

"Well," Aldric surmises, "Perhaps he's trying to hold unit stability above his own feelings?"

"I don't think he gives a shit about that!" Tia stresses, "He fights with another member constantly. When they bicker he doesn't hesitate to get a jab in. This is different. He's polite and considerate," Tia emphasizes, gesturing with her hands, "But it still feels totally fake!"

"Something," Aldric muses, "Has him cornered into polite amiability. Something I am completely familiar with."

"Really?" Tia questions, allowing the conversation to shift to Al.

"Every moment of my life," Aldric grumbles, loosing a sigh, "Honestly, it is an art of its own but it doesn't sound like he's used to doing this either if he's hiding it so poorly."

"Why..." Tia questions, tilting her head, "Do you have to?" 

"It's part of my responsibilities," Aldric answers mindfully, pausing at times to avoid betraying his identity, "Rapport with those around me is critical to success in my... role. Even if I can't stand some of these people, and there are plenty," Aldric's laugh is harsh, "I still need to rely on our ability to work together to maintain stability. I am expected not to let my feelings for someone hinder our working relationship."

"I think..." Tia answers slowly, her gaze drifting in recollection, "I think my dad talked about stuff like that when he told me about his life here, before I was born," Aldric listens attentively as Tia's mind runs through her father's tale, "He had a lot of responsibility and a lot of expectations he tried to live up to but... it made him so miserable he couldn't stay anymore. He said he wasn't the same person back then but I didn't really get it. I don't think I could try to be someone I'm not for very long!"

"You are certainly one of the most straightforward people I have ever met," Aldric chuckles, "Your father sounds far more open about these things than mine."

"Sure, now he is," Tia complains but fondness still creeps into her expression as she talks about her father, "He didn't tell me anything about his life until we moved 'back' to Accia. Even then, he kept all these secrets and acted like everything was fine. I think maybe... it was natural for him like it is for you? It's still so unbelievable that my silly ass dad had this intense and tragic life."

"Silly ass dad?" Aldric snickers, not finding it surprising she was raised by such a bright figure.

"Oh!" Tia exclaims into his laughter, "Please don't feel like you have to do that with me, like, ever!"

"Do... what exactly?" Aldric questions.

"Be fake with me, I guess?" Tia clarifies, "Fake your emotions, our friendship, how you feel about things or pretend your okay with stuff your not," Aldric blinks into her rambling, "I-I guess I just mean that... I'd prefer it if you're straightforward with me too?"

"I mean..." Aldric seems a bit contemplative before he sighs, "I can't promise I won't ever do it," he stifles a smile seeing her displeasure, "I do it all the time! Its a hard habit to shake. But..." Aldric relents, "I will at least make an effort not to do it around you."

"When you say all the time...?" Tia questions with a squint.

"I mean all the time," Aldric emphasizes, "Sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it? Just about every time I talk to someone I'm building a certain impression or relationship."

"That sounds exhausting!" Tia remarks, astonished, "I can't even seem to handle basic interactions."

"You mention that a lot," Aldric notes, "That you 'don't know what you're doing' but I don't think you're as clueless as you think."

"But I am clueless!" Tia insists, punctuating her frustration with a sigh, "You are one of the only people I can maintain a full conversation with without constantly pissing you off or doing something weird."

"I mean, you're still plenty weird," Aldric teases, Tia's face reddening despite her frown, "But I have a long fuse. I put up with some pretty awful people almost constantly. But... It's hard for me to imagine you struggling to befriend those around you, with your personality."

"I've always struggled with this," Tia answers, pulling her knees to her chest and becoming somber, "I've spent so much time alone that... I don't know how things are supposed to work? I don't know what I need to do to make real friends."

"I'm not sure there is one particular way these things are 'supposed to work'," Aldric responds thoughtfully, "Every relationship is different. I mean, look at us. This friendship is pretty unique!" Tia's smile is modest but instant hearing this, "Why are other relationships so different?"

"I mean, its hard to embarrass myself when you don't know who I am?" Tia answers, uncertain herself, "And... this is actually familiar to me."

"Well," Aldric reasons, seeming accustomed to offering advice, "I think if you show this side of yourself more often, rather than trying to make everyone happy, you'll draw friends worth having into your life."

"Couldn't I give you the same advice?" Tia points out, grinning into his confusion, "'Trying to make everyone happy' sounds a lot like what you were complaining about."

"And here you said you were clueless!" Aldric grouses after a gasp, "How can you be so dense and still make connections like that?"

"Being dense," Tia retorts with a measure of amusement, "Doesn't make me stupid!"

"Fine, just let me suggest two things then," Aldric grumbles before doling out more guidance, "First is not to throw in the towel at the slightest hint of rejection. Relationships take time to build and you're going to make plenty of mistakes. Second, try to be more confident in your unique qualities, you have a lot to offer any friendship despite your doubts otherwise."

"Much like your response," Tia answers, beaming despite her blush, "I can't promise but I will make an effort!" They try to maintain serious expressions but quickly dissolve into laughter.

Novice

The following day, Tia arrives at the sparring grounds for her primary martial course. Thanks to her choice of weaponry during assessments, Tia had been slotted for one-handed swords and dueling for her martial training but Tia doesn't favor any particular weapon yet. She hoped she might develop these preferences while attending the program, not quite satisfied with her current weaponry. Something was still missing.

What was far more unsettling for Tia was sharing this course with Ifani but there were also other recruits she was familiar with attending such as Danut, Andrea, Martia and Lucy. Tia recognizes several other faces here but didn't know who they were yet. It didn't surprise Tia that so many recruits defer to this simplistic weapon choice. During these sessions, she tries to avoid interactions with Andrea far more than even Ifani.

"Alright, let's get started," Instructor Zeki announces just after Tia arrives. They all break away from their private conversations and gather around him. 

"Today," Zeki continues, "We'll focus on one on one duels. Find a partner and spar but I don't want to see any magic!" 

Eyes dash about between recruits, pairs forming quickly around them. Tia's eyes land on Ifani before grazing Andrea and Yang. Yang tends to leave Tia uneasy and under no circumstance would she dare quarrel with Andrea. Andrea doesn't hesitate to engage with Ifani, surprisingly cheerful.

Tia and Yang look back to each other and Yang gives Tia an quiet smile. Tia hadn't spoken to her yet but found Yang imposing, whether this was in regards to her beauty or her chaotic demeanor. However, Ifani taps Tia's shoulder before anything can be said.

"What?" Tia squeaks, flipping around.

"Pair up with me," Ifani states plainly, staring over Tia's shoulder. 

"Us?" Tia responds, pointing between them. 

"Yes," Ifani confirms curtly, her voice carrying a hint of impatience. 

Andrea glares daggers at Tia as she passes by. Tia answers Ifani with a quick nod and a nervous smile before they seek out an appropriate place to spar. The smallest available fields line the eastern edge of the sparring grounds, two of these capable of fitting within the field their unit had battled in. 

"Okay," Tia whispers to herself, "Don't give up and be confident...!" 

A number of weapon racks line the edge of the grounds, offering a variety of enchanted "slip" weapons. Ifani takes her time selecting the right blade while Tia continues trying to psych herself up. When Tia peruses the provided weapons, she is disappointed none of these swords resemble the weapons common to the archipelago she had always admired as a child. She again finds herself nostalgic for any shadow of the culture she grew up within. Tia selects a simple broadsword instead and stands before Ifani, letting all traces of her form fade. 

Ifani observes her movements, allowing Tia to make the first attack. Tia thrusts at Ifani but her strike is easily deflected. Tia assails her again with a slash but her sword swipes through empty air. Unimpressed, Ifani initiates her own series of attacks and it takes all of Tia's effort solely to evade. 

"Last time we fought," Ifani speaks between strikes, "I couldn't figure out what technique you were using." Ifani performs a feint, Tia naturally falling into her trap, and her sword passes through Tia's torso. Ifani takes a step back as Tia sighs in defeat. Ifani continues, "But you weren't using any technique, you're a novice!"

Tia tenses and feels the urge to snap at Ifani with something contrary, to deny or redirect her accusation. Tia takes a breath, trying to keep Al's advice in mind, and reassures herself Ifani's criticism didn't necessarily translate into rejection or worse.

"You're right," Tia concedes solemnly, "I am a novice. I only started training a month ago."

"A month...!" Ifani echoes back in disbelief, "How did someone in your position never learn how to fight?"

"In Nippon," Tia explains as they both prepare to fight again, "I didn't need to-" Tia pauses, the memory of less than pleasant incidents causing her to grimace, "Okay, I do wish I knew how to fight back then but no one ever taught me!" Tia slashes at her, Ifani sidestepping and striking Tia's sword hand with the hilt of her own weapon, Tia's weak grip causing her to drop the blade. 

"I can see that," Ifani derides, taking a step back and gesturing towards Tia, "I mean what are you even doing with your feet?"

"My... feet?" Tia questions, unsure of her point. 

"You're unbalanced," Ifani states, narrowing her eyes at Tia's stance, "And you keep pushing off with the wrong leg! Your strikes are weak and you're wobbling everywhere," Tia pauses to examine her own posture, "Have you even found your center of gravity?"

"I..." Tia's voice trails, "Have no idea what that is."

"Azryth take me," Ifani breathes, producing a facepalm, "You're actually worse than Albert!" Tia frowns, her expression both embarrassed and uncomfortable and Ifani frowns when she picks this up, "You won't get any better if you don't learn this," Ifani asserts bluntly, accustomed to helping Albert in these matters, "Feel out the position where you feel most balanced, where you don't lean in any direction. Practice this in different stances, movements and positions. If you can learn how to keep it up, even while fighting, you'll be more stable attacking and defending." Tia shifts her weight around in response, trying to find her center. After a moment of feeling it out, Tia feels her body cease swaying. 

"Like this?" Tia questions.

"It's a start," Ifani grumbles, leering at her posture, "When you fight," she continues, offering Tia examples of proper strikes, "You need to use your whole body." 

Tia observes as Ifani slides through various stances steadily and meticulously, pausing when achieving a given stance before moving to the next. She braces each step, her balance unwavering and movements precise after endless hours of practice. Ifani is conscious of every inch of her body as she moves akin to a dancer. When she performs strikes, Tia can see her whole body flowing into the movement from toe to sword. She runs through these stances and strikes again at full speed for Tia as well.

"There are different styles and techniques utilizing different kinds of swords," Ifani explains once she's finished, "But you need to learn the basics first. Do you get it?"

"Actually..." Tia answers, almost mystified before growing excited, "I think I do! Everyone else kept babbling or knocking me over," Tia grumbles at the memory, "But you actually make sense!" 

"Of course I make sense!" Ifani replies confidently, her face burning from unexpected recognition. Tia gives a light laugh but it fades before she speaks.

"Um... why are you helping me?" Tia questions, Ifani watching anxiety wash over her, "I-I thought you hated me."

"Is that why you never came back?" Ifani questions, openly miffed. Tia's posture becomes more uncertain and reserved as she raises her voice, "Where have you even been sleeping?" as Tia searches Ifani's face, she is astonished to find concern mixed with her aggravation, "What were you going to do when we leave next week?"

"I... well," Tia mumbles, freezing up under scrutiny. Ifani releases an irritable groan.

"This is what I hate," Ifani proclaims, leveling her sword at Tia again, "Your nervous, wishy-washy bullshit! Where's the spitfire who rallied her allies and tore open my face?"

Tia is left speechless, boggled by Ifani's blunt statement. Ifani becomes more serious into Tia's silence, ending their conversation and lowering herself into position. Tia steadies herself with a long breath, mimicking Ifani's posture first and balancing herself as she had done before. 

Tia begins a series of slashes and jabs, becoming more firm with each strike as she attempts to enact Ifani's instructions. Ifani observes the difference in Tia's movements, already considerably steadier, and almost smiles. Then, as Tia's body lurches forward, Ifani shoves into Tia's gut with her shoulder. Tia wobbles and threatens to tip but rather than finding herself in the dirt, she manages to regain her balance. Unfortunately, Ifani still slashes Tia in her moment of exposure. 

"That was better," Ifani congratulates her, despite Tia's loss, "But you're legs are still backwards!"

Moonlit Reunion

Fatigue weighs heavily on Allen as he returns to his rooms, the tedious day taking its toll on him. Yet, it isn't the exhaustion which leaves him stumbling forward, knees buckling. Mina lingers on his balcony, regarding the valley and appearing almost spectral. Her pearly tresses gleam with the moonlight, swaying about her and revealing a melancholic expression. 

Allen dashes forward at first but freezes halfway to the glass door, his breath catching as doubt takes hold. How could Mina possibly even arrive here, in the capital, through the barrier and on his balcony without anyone's notice? Allen questions if he is dreaming or if his mind has conjured her illusion, no longer able to tolerate her absence. All of this falls away and his mind blanks as she turns, their eyes meeting.

There is yearning in Mina's eyes echoing his own but she also portrays intense anguish and guilt, her posture defensive and closed off. Mina has resigned herself to accept the rage and accusation she believes she deserves. Allen breaks from his stupor, his hands floundering frantically with the lock. Mina braces herself for his worst as the doors swing open, squeezing her eyes shut.

Allen reaches for her but freezes again just shy of contact, terrified to confirm her an illusion. With shaking hands, he grasps Mina's face in his palm. He nearly drops to his knees, flooded with sheer relief and the joy he was too petrified to entertain. Mina is truly here. Without another breath Allen draws Mina into an embrace, clasping her ardently, and can feel her gasp and tremble in response. Allen has to reassure himself twice more before he is convinced she's real. He draws back and cradles her face between his hands, searching her eyes as the tears spilling down her face glisten with an ethereal light. His mouth opens but he fails to find any words for her, still dumbstruck. Despite her own uncertainty, Mina can't help but lean her face into his palm with a troubled expression.

"How are you here?" Allen utters with wonder. Mina's voice fails her as well and she instead peers up at the full moon above them. "Celestial magic?" Allen suggests, his hands dropping from her face.

"Yes," Mina confirms, Allen sliding her hands into his grasp and soaking in her voice, "Allen I-I..." Allen rubs her hands, watching her expression. 

"She told me what happened," Allen speaks gently, his words afflicting pain onto her face despite his tone, "But I still want to hear your explanation."

Allen tugs her hands gently, moving inside. Mina takes a breath before following him into the manor. Allen's rooms are the largest by far, the master suite, and is practically a home unto itself. There are several rooms, all lavishly furnished and decorated. Allen leads Mina into the sitting room attached to the balcony. A door sits on each wall which are cluttered with shelves and decorations. They sit together on the sofa. 

"I don't have the excuses you're hoping for," Mina speaks slowly, her tone dejected and too soft, "Everything that happened that night is my fault. I've failed you as a wife and I failed to protect our daughter...!" Tears begin slipping down her face again. He squeezes her hands and she finds herself scowling at the gesture as she continues, "Why aren't you angry!" 

"I am angry," Allen responds but he appears wounded rather than wrathful, "I'm furious you left us without a word, that you left Tia behind! But..." he cups her face again, "That doesn't mean I've stopped loving you," his hands quiver and his voice is a husk, "I could never...!"

Mina searches his eyes, absent of scorn or resentment. Instead they beg her to relent, to tear down this wall between them. Mina pauses to consider what is safe for Allen to know and sighs when she is ready. 

"I have a curse," Mina speaks carefully.

"A curse?" Allen echoes, poorly masking his trepidation.

"It was meant to protect me," Mina tries to explain but her voice grows bitter, "But it becomes unpredictable when I am in danger. Sometimes... it takes over."

"What does that mean?" Allen questions, still attentive to her explanation.

"If I am in imminent danger I black out," Mina explains and Allen blinks, "The curse controls my body and does what is necessary to keep me safe. I can feel it sometimes or I can try to keep myself out of harms way b-but..." her voice tightens, Mina choking on the memory, "I-I couldn't stop it."

Allen is quiet, contemplating the ramifications of this curse. Tia's account of that night passes through his mind and he understands Mina's implication. He thinks back to any instances Mina was in danger in their time together. Despite the fantastical claim, Allen could not recall a single instance he had ever seen Mina injured, not even a bruise or a scratch. Even in times where she should have been hurt something lucky would occur or she seemed to sense the danger coming. Even the night they fled Nippon it was miraculous they escaped unscathed and unnoticed amid the mayhem.

"I suppose... It's plausible," Allen mutters and gives one laugh, Mina appreciating the sound, "There are stranger legends out there!"

"But curse or not, I still made so many mistakes!" Mina persists, unable to shake her guilt, "I-I should have told you from the beginning." 

"I wish you did," Allen's answer is wan but his voice softens as he continues, "I also wish I had tried harder to speak to you or that I could've chased after you. Most of all, I wish I didn't have this damn imprint," Allen emphasizes, his hand fisting over the concealed mark, "We all could've run together!" they're both silent for several minutes, brooding over their mistakes, "Where have you been all this time?" 

"After that night," Mina answers, still somber from the memory, "I sought out an old friend, outside the kingdom's grasp," Allen's brows shoot up, unaware Mina knew anyone outside Nippon, "The village is past the southern border."

"As long as you're safe," Allen sighs, rubbing her hands, "I want to leave with you so badly...!" he admits, barely audible, "But Tia needs me here."

"That's why I came," Mina states carefully, "Right now, I am utterly powerless to help or protect her in any way," her usually smooth demeanor belies heated frustration, "It's risky... but we may be able to protect her together!"

"What did you have in mind?" Allen questions. 

"I know you're trying to help her using your position," Mina states, earning an appreciative smile from Allen, "But you need to work your way back into the court before you can do anything," Allen nods to her in recognition, "My friend might be able to help you do so more swiftly."

"The friend who took you in?" Allen asks, surprised this figure possesses such influence.

"If you coordinate your activities," Mina explains, "He can help you impress the King... and perhaps more. The two of you can buy me time to set my plan in motion!"

"And how," Allen barely smothers his doubtful tone, "Is he able to do that?"

"Have you heard," Mina asks, "Of the Isthmus of the Huntsman?" 

"That's a very hot topic today," Allen chuckles, "I may have already volunteered my services to that frontier this morning," Allen admits, enjoying the surprise that flashes over Mina's face, "It's the fastest route to impressing Ambrose. The kingdom's primary campaign is against this 'Huntsman' and Ambrose very much wants him dead."

"Yes, I imagine he does," Mina titters, earning some confusion from her husband. Mina can't help but enjoy the opportunity to surprise him for once. "Well, that's very fortuitous," Mina continues with some excitement, "My friend is the Huntsman!" Mina beams into his surprise and it takes Allen a moment to absorb this.

"I'm seeing that risk now," Allen jokes, lacing his words with self-depreciative laughter, "So the plan is for me to betray the kingdom by working with their most reviled adversary in order to get closer to the King?" Mina presses her lips together and nods to him, "What does he get out of this?"

"He wants to prevent the kingdom from advancing further south," Mina explains, "If you can help sabotage their advances, help protect his people, he'll help you earn favor with the King." She watches his face carefully, fearful she may be asking too much of him. 

Allen laughs mildly at himself before answering Mina, "I spent half of my life serving and conquering lands for the kingdom," he frowns at the memories, "It would be poetic to help grind that conquest to a halt now," he dons a far-off expression, "And you're sitting here with me... I must be dreaming!" Allen peers at her as if she might disappear with a blink of his eyes. She glances to the balcony, assessing the night sky. 

"How much longer do we have?" Allen questions, his voice uneven.

"It would be... difficult to leave without moonlight," Mina answers but then laughs, "And Supay may do something really, really stupid if I don't return in time."

Allen is unable to keep the worry from touching his features hearing Mina talk about this mysterious friend, Supay the Huntsman, and she catches the jealous anxiety in his expression. She cups his face this time, offering a comforting smile.

"You don't need to worry," Mina reassures him and searches his eyes, the rest of her words laced with uncertainty, "I'm still your wife... if you'll have me?"

Allen draws Mina to him instantly, kissing her as he had craved since the moment he saw her on his balcony. Allen is ardent and desperate, readily met by her own lusty deprivation, but he remains tender as his arms envelop her. Mina melts into the familiar embrace, her relief marked by a long, trembling breath which slides through her lips. Her spindly fingers slip under his shirt and her ordinarily silken caress presses him to her zealously. The fear and loss each of them had carried over the last month washes away at the other's touch, Mina shivering as Allen runs his hands over her. As he reaches her thighs, Allen grins and scoops Mina up, delighting in the sound of her laughter while navigating them further inside.

Allen's eyes flutter as an immense drowsiness begins to dissipate. Despite the vertigo which still claims his head, Allen is quick to prod the bed beside him. His stomach knots immediately as his fingers graze that same familiar vacancy and he grits his teeth as doubts flood his mind. Had it all been a dream? No warmth remains where his wife had lain beside him. No indication of Mina's presence remains to indicate it was anything more than a fanciful delusion of a grieving widower. 

Allen swings his legs over the bed knowing his mind would allow him no further rest tonight. A haggard sigh slides out of the man but catches as his eyes land on an envelope atop his nightstand. His hand trembles as he reaches for it, uncertain of how much more disappointment he could withstand. Inside the envelope waits a simple letter and a peculiar necklace.

A cerulean syltharian crystal is clasped by delicate silver fingers and is cut into the shape of a heart, the hue of the gem reminding Allen of his wife's mesmerizing eyes with teensy stars frozen into place between its facets. 

"I know by now," the letter reads, "You are likely adrift in doubts and uncertainties. I languish the fact that I cannot put these to rest. When you arrive at the Isthmus, the enchantment in this necklace will lead you to me. You must come alone. While I may not be able to stand at your side yet, carry this and know that my heart is always with you!"

Allen's eyes scrape over Mina's words again and again, clutching the necklace to his chest. No matter how he clings to this hope and no matter how desperately he desires to trust in this dream and this letter, uncertainty still rests in the pit of his stomach. While the words were almost certainly those of his wife, the letter itself was written by another hand. He studies the necklace instead, unsure what to make of this baffling reunion.