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Conflict of the Heart


Anacybele
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So, some of you guys who frequent this section of the forum may recognize Jerec, a character my friend Dragoncat is using in her fic, Wings of Courage. Well, he belongs to me and my co-author, Falchion1984 (in fact, it was the latter who originally created him) and around the same time Dcat did her fic, I was planning on writing a story centered on Jerec. This is that story! :) It's part of a series of short stories that take place in the timeline of my main fic, FE: Dawn of Darkness.

Jerec is the son of Bryce, one of the Daein Riders from PoR. We don't see much of Bryce, so my co-author and I figured it a good idea to explore him more by giving him a son. I believe IS originally wanted to explore him more as well, as Bryce has an unused RD portrait. So why not? From what little screen time Bryce has in PoR, I always saw him as a rather depressed guy that has a tragic past. I mean, even after Ashnard reveals to him that he was responsible for the deaths of the rest of Daein's royals, Bryce pledges loyalty to him and Daein. It's like Bryce feels he has no reason to live or be around otherwise. And when someone feels like that, they feel pretty damn low/depressed, like they don't deserve to be any better. We also hear nothing about Bryce's family or anything else from other characters, even Tauroneo who was a Rider alongside him (remember the song mentioned in RD that was Daein's national anthem or something like that? It mentioned the previous Four Riders, Gawain, Bryce, Tauroneo, and Lanvega). I figure it's not something they enjoy talking about. So I went and came up with some ideas myself when Falchion came up with Jerec. :)

This is a tale of Jerec learning of his father's past and coming to terms with it. And maybe, just maybe, he'll even fall in love. So here's the first chapter! Chapter 2 is also up, as I actually had to split it off from chapter 1. For now, though, it's only on my ff.net account, which is linked in my FE: Dawn of Darkness story topic, which is linked in my sig. Another thing, there are a couple of Leonard Nimoy references, one in each chapter. Falchion put them in though, I've never really watched Star Trek. Falchion was also the one that created Shea. I created Blake. Oh yeah, if you don't like the Ike x Elincia pairing, you might not want to read this. Ike and Elincia themselves don't appear here, but they are mentioned in the first two chapters and may get another mention or two throughout the rest of the story. Another small note, Falchion's style tends to be pretty descriptive and wordy, and I know not everyone is a fan of that (I learned that the hard way...). I really like it though, and I think it complements my writing nicely because I tend to have trouble balancing description with dialogue (meaning, I sometimes overdo it on dialogue and don't put enough description).

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Conflict of the Heart

Part 1: The Letter

A seaborne breeze whistled through the air, light but cold. The wind gained strength as it blew inland towards the nation of Crimea, rippling the grass of the fields and rustling the leaves of the scattered trees. The afternoon sun also shone overhead…or, at least, one supposed so. The sky was a mass of gloomy clouds which spanned the horizon, allowing only for one to guess at the bright orb which must be hiding behind the leaden gray curtain. Birds chirped and squirrels and rabbits scampered about, though, like those creatures in Crimea who spoke and wore clothes, these seemed either subdued or fretful. The meadow was quite beautiful, even in such gloomy weather, and likely would've had some visitors eager to enjoy the fresh air and the beauty of its many patches of wildflowers. Yet, only one had entered its sylvan folds.

And he hardly seemed the sort to spend time smelling wildflowers.

He was a young man, a vagabond judging by his weather-beaten appearance, sprawled out amidst a corona of green spring grass that was almost knee deep. Bedding down so far from civilization was an uncommon thing for honest folk to do and, coupled with his unkempt features and worn clothing, this might've caused one to believe him some squatter, or scavenger, or even a fugitive. But, one who was willing to venture closer might see that this specimen was very different. The sunlight, though scant on this overcast day, shone off of his dark red hair, an uncommon trait in Crimea, as well as the crimson scruff that was encroaching upon his jaw line. A dark brown cloak was draped over his form, but did little to conceal the sinewy frame beneath. His head rested upon a suit of black plate armor, which had been tightly and securely packed with a deftness that bespoke long practice. If his physique and improvised bedding did not suggest that this young man was no stranger to combat, the silver lance next to him certainly would. The weapon had clearly seen a great deal of use, but had also been lovingly maintained. A length of sturdy rope, all but lost in the tall grass, linked it to the knapsack lying next to the slumbering vagabond, making it quite difficult for someone to steal either without making quite a racket and rousing their forbidding owner.

No, this was not a drunken vagrant nor a common highwayman.

He just snored like one.

Which might very well explain how he had been found so far from civilization.

Muttering something about gratuity, a lanky man in light clothing and with a leather knapsack across one shoulder approached the small campsite which, to his ears, sounded more like a bustling sawmill. The lanky man was still grumbling about how much he was getting paid to chase down this wanderer when something round and hard suddenly caught his foot and sent him sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, stepping loudly on several dry twigs, and turned a wary eye on the vagabond.

Those who bedded down alone and in the wilderness often employed such counter-measures to warn them of intrusive folk…

…and, judging by that silver lance, "intrusive" had a way of swiftly becoming "dead."

Yet, to the lanky man's amazement, his blundering into the vagabond's traps didn't even interrupt the raucous snores.

Dumfounded, and wondering why he couldn't get that old saying about poking bears out of his mind, the lanky man fished an unbroken twig out of the grass and began warily prodding the sleeping man's stomach.

He probably shouldn't have been surprised, but was when the man only rolled over in his sleep and muttered something about fluffy bunnies. And, even though the lanky man continued his nervous prodding, the vagabond still slept soundly.

Idly wondering if anything could rouse the man from his nap, the skittish visitor decided to change tactics.

"HELLO?! Sir JEREC?!" he shouted as loudly as he dared. "I was told by the tavern keeper in Mitox that I could find you here?! SIR JEREC!"

"Aw, Dad, just a few more minutes…" Jerec mumbled, still snoring despite the shouting.

Moments later, the owner of the other masculine voice noticed Jerec slumbering in the grass.

"…What in tarnation? That tavern keeper wasn't kidding when she said this guy is hard to wake up," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Well, I seem to be running out of options, so here's hoping I don't lose my pay for this…"

The man then knelt in the grass and, trying to avoid staring at the silver lance, took Jerec by the shoulder.

"Hey! SIR JEREC!" he called again, giving Jerec's shoulder a shake.

"Waaaah!" Jerec finally blurted, springing into action.

With a speed and suddenness that defied the man's earlier languidness, he vaulted to his feet in an instant, snatching up his silver lance and leveling its blade for the kill. His purple eyes, though bleary, shot wide open as he registered the lanky man curled into a whimpering ball at his feet.

"Please don't kill me!" the man squeaked.

"Ah, damn it, I did it again!" Jerec said irritably as he lay aside his lance and offered his hand to the shaken man. "I'm quite a heavy sleeper, and most people who'd be prodding me awake out here wouldn't be friendly."

"I…I understand, Sir Jerec," the man replied in a shaky voice, taking Jerec's hand and allowing the lancer to pull him back to his feet. "The tavern owner back in Mitox warned me that you wouldn't be easy to rouse when I asked where I could find you. I didn't quite expect you to sleep through me crashing through your rocks and twigs, though!"

"Heh…" was all Jerec could say, his cheeks reddening. "You must mean the fetching Miss Shea and her brother, Blake? They're good friends of mine. How about we keep that little mishap between us, and you tell them I said you've earned a good tip?"

"I like the sound of that."

"Good. This was kind of embarrassing, and I'd hate to think what their patrons would've made of it… Anyway, you found me, so what can I do for you?"

"Oh, yes, I was hired by Shea and Blake to deliver this letter to you," the man replied. He then dug into a sack hanging from his shoulder and produced a rolled up scroll.

"Huh, I wonder who this could be from…" Jerec commented absently, though his stomach was already coiling into a leaden knot.

As his bedding down miles from the nearest town might suggest, Jerec was hardly a socialite. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had few friends in this corner of the world and not even many acquaintances, apart from Shea, Blake and those who paid him for his work as a mercenary for hire. And, though he'd garnered some reputation as being worth every copper, even those who'd provided him with repeat business knew very little about him.

This was, however, out of necessity rather than aloofness.

Jerec was not from Crimea, and should his heritage become widely known, he shuddered to contemplate what might result. Thus, he avoided socializing much, lest he unwittingly say something that might arouse suspicion. Though Jerec looked very much the part of a rootless wanderer who'd simply found Crimea an agreeable place for his meanderings, the truth was vastly more complicated. He was originally from Daein. In fact, his late father, Bryce, had been one of the country's Four Riders, who were the most distinguished generals and strongest warriors in the Daein army. Ever since the conflict known as the Mad King's War, where Daein had declared war on Crimea and brutally ravaged the nation, hatred for the Daein people ran deep amongst the Crimeans. And, though Crimea had won the war, and even found itself fighting alongside Daein following the awakening of the mad goddess Ashera, the wounds of the Mad King's War were still fresh and bled all too easily.

Could someone have uncovered his secret and begun spreading rumors? Some of the Crimean nobility were aware of his identity, as he had been sent to the castle in the past to petition then-queen Elincia for help against Arius, the self-proclaimed king of the wolf laguz who'd sought to carve out his own kingdom in Daein. Those nobles who were aware of Jerec's origins likely weren't pleased that Elincia had heard his request at all, to say nothing of how they must've reacted when she'd obliged, and it was quite possible that they could've tried to take some action against him.

Though Elincia had known of Jerec's identity, Jerec hadn't any clue whether Renning, her uncle who'd taken the throne after her abdication and departure, might also be aware. Renning seemed to share Elincia's views and beliefs, for he had also been a staunch advocate of building peaceful relations with the laguz. Jerec couldn't imagine that Renning would want to prosecute him, but he was forced to admit that that hardly guaranteed his continued safety. Between Ike's self-imposed exile from Crimea and Elincia abdicating her throne to seek out the wayward hero, Renning had inherited the crown of a deeply troubled realm. And, while his country's present difficulties surely weighed far more on his mind than past grudges, it also meant that any nobles seeking to make mischief behind his back would have the advantage. Could the letter be some sort of summons for him to appear and undergo an investigation, or even a warrant for his arrest? Such could have been concocted by the uppity nobles, especially while Renning was too mired by other crises to intervene.

Jerec's troubled introspection felt like it had lasted for days but, when he shook himself back to the present, he saw that the messenger was still there. Thankfully, it seemed the lanky man had not noticed either the clench of Jerec's jaw nor the sweat beginning to dot his brow.

"I haven't a clue, I'm afraid," the messenger admitted. "The message was passed to me by Shea, who'd received it from another, who'd also mentioned that he'd received it from another. It seems the sender wanted very much to remain anonymous. Whatever this is, it must be something important or personal, maybe both."

"Hmm…" Jerec murmured as he took the scroll. "Well, thank you. And tell Shea and Blake that I said you've earned a good tip."

"No problem! Thank you, and see ya around!"

With that, the messenger took his leave, and Jerec was left to regard the scroll with a wary eye. The lancer, pausing to mop his brow, unknotted the string which kept it coiled up and with a shaky breath, unrolled the scroll. Inside, he discovered two sheets of parchment, one roughly half the size of the other. The larger sheet was likely the letter that the messenger had been talking about. The smaller one, however, looked much older. The parchment was yellowed and cracked around the edges, and some of the ink was quite faint. Perplexed, but with curiosity now prevailing over his earlier trepidation, Jerec decided to read the letter first. He sensed that the messenger was right about this letter being important, and he wanted a better idea of what he was getting himself into.

Jerec,

I'm sending you this important message from Daein. I know you have left the country and have neither reason nor desire to return, but I'm afraid I must ask you to do precisely that. Believe me, I would not be making such a request unless I was certain that the need was great. I would have rather sought you out myself and discussed this matter in person, but I was unsure if I could find you, and even less certain if I could convince you. You see, I was a friend of your father's, and some years ago, he had entrusted me with very sensitive information about his past. This secret weighed heavily upon him, though he took great care not to show it. I suspect he'd wanted to tell you during the Mad King's War, so that you could put the matter to rights if the war took him before he could do attend to this matter himself. However as you may already know, he fell to Sir Ike's blade before he had the opportunity.

Now, I don't expect you to make your decision immediately, for I suspect this information will come as a blow. That is why I urge you to come to my home in Daein, so we discuss this matter face to face. Hopefully, I will be able to make what you will discover easier to take in. I do wish you could have learned about this sooner, and that I could've done more for your father. As much as I would wish to say more in this letter, I know all too well that I must keep this message anonymous and its contents oblique, lest I expose your own secret and put you in danger. I suspect it's hard enough for a Daein to live in Crimea as it is. But, I trust that you can glean my identity nonetheless. I know that what will be revealed will be difficult to accept, but I urge you not to react too rashly, nor to think ill of those others involved. Your father was not a perfect man, but he was a good man who I happily counted as a friend. And, I hope I can do honor to his memory by how I help you and those others affected by this secret.

I hope to see you soon,

T

When he saw the calligraphic "T" signed at the bottom of the letter, Jerec's eyes pulsed wide with dawning comprehension. Only one of his father's friends used such a distinctive mark, and he recognized it in an instant.

"Blast it… There's only one person who could've sent this," he deduced. "General Tauroneo, I never thought I'd hear from you again. But what is this all about?"

That the letter was replete with cautionary words about judging too harshly left Jerec more than a bit wary as he turned his attention to the smaller, older sheet of parchment. As he squinted at the faint text, he could make out the words "Certificate" and "Bryce," the latter of which being written on a line next to "Name of Father."

"Uh… This looks like my birth certificate," the lancer mused, perplexed. "I don't get it, why would Tauroneo be worried about this getting me riled up? …Wait a minute."

As Jerec took another, closer look at the birth certificate, he saw something peculiar. He had assumed that the birth certificate was his own, but a look at the date of birth revealed that that could not be so. The child, whoever he or she was, had been born several years after Jerec.

"What the hell?!" was all Jerec could say upon this revelation. "Th-This can't be possible! I…I have a sibling?!"

Indeed, it hardly seemed possible. Jerec's mother, who had been a frail and sickly woman, had died while birthing him. He remembered that, as a younger man, he'd spend hours at her grave, speaking to her and hoping she could still hear him from wherever her gentle spirit now rested. He also remembered that his father had never remarried.

Yet, the only way Bryce could've had another child after Jerec was if he had, nonetheless, been involved with another woman.

This realization sent Jerec staggering back as if it had been a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs and then sending him falling over backwards as he treaded upon one of the stones with which he'd ringed his campsite. This could not be happening; indeed, what he'd seemed to have discovered could not be reconciled with his memories of faithful and forthright man his father had been in life. Jerec remembered that his father had always been loyal and dedicated to his wife's memory, despite her tragic death. He was always the same with Jerec as well. The idea that he would father another child, presumably out of wedlock, and hide it from his son left Jerec's head spinning far more than his earthward tumble could have.

Tauroneo was right about this news coming as a blow; in fact, it seemed he'd understated the case a little.

"But how…? Why…?" Jerec stammered, barely able to get words past the sudden lump in his throat.

This certainly explained why Tauroneo had placed such emphasis on not reacting rashly or harshly, as well as hinting at just who "those others affected" might be. But, that still left open the question of why Tauroneo would reveal this now. Indeed, why would he reveal it at all?

Just…Dad, what the hell did you do?" he wondered in a helpless, confused tone.

Indeed, that was quite a question. And, the prospect of learning the answer was daunting. One fist tightened around the two pieces of parchment, both crumpling in his iron grip, while he clenched his other hand into a fist drove it into the ground. He discovered yet another one of his concealed rocks in this way, and the pain of the impact helped to snap him back to reality. The idea of his father having kept such a secret from him for so long was, indeed, overwhelming. And, Jerec could now see why Tauroneo wished to meet with him. Jerec could not possibly figure out how to handle such news by himself, and meeting with someone who could help him to put this matter in perspective would surely be wise. But, lingering questions nagged at the Daein vagabond. If Bryce had become involved with another woman at some point, who and where was she? And, who was their apparent child?

And, for that matter, why had Tauroeno chosen this moment to reveal such a secret? He'd surely had other opportunities over the nearly five years since Bryce's death. Could something have happened to the woman and her child? Given the tumult that had been so prevalent in Tellius after the Goddess War, that was a distinct possibility. Or, maybe the reason was far simpler. Tauroneo had said that he'd known this secret for some time, but maybe he'd only now unearthed proof that the story was true? That was possible. And, it was also likely that Tauroneo simply hadn't had the chance to pursue the matter. After Ashnard's death and Begnion's annexation of Daein, Tauroneo had joined the Dawn Brigade and fought for Daein's independence. Later, when Ashera had awoken, Tauroneo and the other heroes of Daein had reluctantly joined their former enemies to fight the maddened goddess. And, after that, Tauroneo's skills had surely been needed to help cement Sothe and Micaiah's newfound rule over the battered nation.

As trite as it might sound, Tauroneo might simply have been too busy.

Jerec mulled over several other possibilities, but then realized such was pointless. He knew he would never learn the rest of the tale unless he went back to Daein to investigate. And, as frightened as he was to delve into this matter, he simply had too many questions; questions, he suspected, that only Tauroneo himself could answer. If he shied away from this news, he would be left pondering all of this for the rest of his life.

"As if I'm not crazy enough already, what with how I sleep out in the wilderness and am always talking to myself," he opined to no one in particular. "…Alright. You win, General Tauroneo. I'll return to Daein as soon as I can clear my head a little. I can't really say no to my old mentor anyway."

The journey to Daein would be a long one, and he doubted it would be pleasant. For now, however, Jerec chose to return to Shea and Blake's tavern and get a few glasses of liquid courage before preparing for his journey. Despite his resolution to see Tauroneo, he was still out of sorts from what he'd discovered and was hoping that a libation or two would cool his lingering anger. He was also hopeful that Shea and Blake might be able to offer some advice. The two of them were probably the closest thing Jerec had to friends amongst the Crimean people. As he'd said to the lanky messenger earlier, Shea was a very fetching woman and, though he knew her to be at least eight or nine years his senior, one would never guess that from her attractive features, laughing eyes, and merry personality. Blake, Shea's older brother, was a towering bear of a man, but who was even jollier than his sister. Jerec hadn't, and probably couldn't reveal his heritage even to them, but he could hopefully ask the pair for help without arousing suspicion. As he placed the now mangled parchment inside his knapsack and began heading to the tavern, Jerec found another old friend he hadn't seen in years springing to mind.

They hadn't exactly met under the best circumstances and, to put it mildly, their friendship was an ironic one. But, Jerec found himself fervently wishing he could speak to him right now.

"Yeah, me and half the continent," he groused. "Ike, I think I get the appeal of boldly going where no man has gone before, but your timing is just terrible."

Indeed, Sir Ike, the former commander of the Greil Mercenaries, was just the man that everybody was eager to turn to in such trying times. Once a simple sellsword, Ike had been catapulted into the limelight when then-princess Elincia, had entered his life during the first days of the Mad King's War. From then on, over the course of five years, two wars, and many adventures, the name "Ike" had become all but synonymous with such words as "heroic," "daring," "indomitable," "courageous," "handsome," "alluring," and Ashunera knew what else. Practically everybody on the continent knew Ike's name, many of them had followed his exploits devoutly, and practically every unmarried woman wanted to know him on, as they put it, "a more personal basis."

Yet, this admiration of Ike, this overwhelming confidence in his abilities and the fervent belief that no crisis would endure so long as he was around, had spiraled well and truly out of control.

Ike had gone from an obscure sellsword, to a hero, to a veritable guardian angel.

And, when he'd left Tellius, it was as if everyone had had their hearts torn out, leaving behind gaping chasms brimming with despair.

Jerec missed Ike too, but for far different and more personal reasons. He had known Ike, if briefly, and knew that Ike was everything the legends said he was. But, more than that, Jerec knew that Ike would understand his situation, maybe even be able to help. Ike's own father, Greil, who had once been another former Daein Rider known as Gawain, had also kept a dark secret from his son. And, as the case apparently would be with Jerec, Ike had only learned the truth after his father had been taken from him by the war. Jerec knew bits and pieces of the story; namely that Greil and Ike's mother, whose name Jerec did not know, had stolen Lehran's Medallion from Ashnard and had tried to take the dangerous artifact beyond the Mad King's reach. But, while evading Daein's pursuit, Greil had unwittingly touched the medallion and its chaotic energies had driven him mad. The strongest and most skillful swordsman of his generation, the maddened Greil had easily cut his pursuers to pieces and went on a rampage in the surrounding town. Ike's mother had ultimately gotten the medallion away from him, thus snapping Greil out of its blood-lusting trance, but this act of bravery and love had cost Ike's mother her life.

By the time Jerec had met Ike and learned of these events, the young sellsword had seemed to have overcome the shock of these revelations. The flood of disbelief, anger and sadness seemed to have passed, leaving behind a man who had managed to come to terms with what, for most, was the unthinkable. How Ike had achieved that, Jerec couldn't even guess. In fact, upon reflection, Jerec found himself puzzled as to what had prevented Greil from being driven into a still deeper madness by what he'd unknowingly done. Yet, Greil had not only kept his sanity, but had even raised his two children and founded a mercenary company which was regarded as the stuff of legends.

Jerec wracked his brain for even the smallest hint as to how the two men could have done this, but he came away with only a throbbing skull for his efforts. He knew Ike had faced down the revelation of his father's unwitting actions, and had somehow come away tempered rather than broken by that knowledge. Yet, how Ike had accomplished this, Jerec couldn't even imagine.

"Damn it, Ike… What would you do in my place? Hell, what did you do in my place?" Jerec wondered despairingly. "If only I could find you and ask… Why did you have to leave?"

Only the chill wind answered Jerec's question, but that hardly mattered. In truth, Jerec had a pretty good idea of why Ike had left the continent he'd fought for and saved twice.

After all, what was sword or armor or muscle against the pain of a broken heart?

Jerec had been one of the few people to know that Ike and Elincia had been sharing a secret romance. While unexpectedly aiding Ike in the hunt for Ettard, which had once been Greil's sword, Jerec had gotten more than a few laughs at what fawning lovebirds those two could be. They were, however, wise enough to know that their love would not be easy. Elincia had her duties at the castle which, considering she'd never been groomed to occupy the throne, seemed to be an endless series of crises and political infighting, ultimately culminating in Duke Ludveck's ill-fated attempt to depose her. Ike had also had his obligations to the mercenaries and, since his taking care of the company was part of his father's last request, that had been a weighty obligation. And, as if that wasn't enough, the two were further separated by the vast gulf between their bloodlines. Even though Ike was already hailed as a hero, that would not have stopped certain people from disapproving of the idea of the queen marrying a low-born commoner. Yet, Jerec also remembered the iron forged determination the two shared, that they would find a way to be together regardless of the obstacles between them.

When Jerec had first heard the announcement that Elincia was to be wed to General Geoffrey, he'd been bewildered. Granted, he hadn't seen Ike or Elincia in years, but the notion that one or both of them would give up on their love seemed unthinkable. On the heels of that came the news that Ike had departed along with one of his close friends, bound for another continent which had somehow survived an apocalyptic event known as the Great Flood over eight centuries prior.

Many months later, the Daein vagabond heard tell that Elincia and Geoffrey's marriage had been annulled and she'd also left for the newly discovered continent to seek out Ike. A punchy grin had tugged at the corners of Jerec's mouth, for he'd immediately determined that he'd been wrong to think to think that Ike and Elincia had admitted defeat and that, given a little more time, the two lovers would soon be together and happy at long last. Someday soon, the young lovers would sail back to Tellius with smiles on their faces and wedding bands upon their fingers. Of that, Jerec had no doubt…

…until he'd learned that Elincia had abdicated her throne before leaving.

That news had left the Daein vagabond stunned. But, in hindsight, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Before Jerec had cut his ties with his former homeland, he'd been involved in Elincia.s unsuccessful efforts to help get Daein back on her feet and mend fences between the two northern nations of Tellius. Elincia had hoped to involve Crimea in rebuilding Daein and to prevail upon Begnion to change their heavy handed policies regarding Daein.s citizens. Sadly, the effort had been doomed from the start. With the deep seated anger towards Daein, convincing any Crimean to support her efforts had been all but impossible and, with Begnion bankrolling Crimea's own reconstruction, Elincia wasn't in any position to do more than ask politely and hope for the best.

During that time, Jerec had quickly gleaned that Elincia was her own harshest critic. Even on those rare occasions when one of her endeavors turned out well, she was always certain that she.d far delivered less than her people needed of her. Jerec also knew that, prior to her birth, Elincia's uncle, Renning, had been the presumptive heir to the throne, and he'd received years of grooming to bear the crown. Yes, in hindsight, it did make sense that Elincia would want Crimea to have a better ruler after her many blunders. Still, the news had shocked him. Jerec's knowledge of politics was scant, to say the least, but he suspected that an abdication wasn't something one could just "take back." And, her and Ike's decision to leave had sparked quite a few ill feelings…

…which left Jerec wondering if either of them would be returning to Tellius at all.

With an effort, Jerec shook himself back to the present. It was painful that Ike and Elincia had left, but it was their decision and he had his own problems to worry about. And, as he turned that thought over in his head, he realized that trying to track Ike down and ask his advice would be a fool's errand. He knew nothing about the continent they'd reportedly journeyed to and, even if he could find them amidst that strange land, Jerec would likely have to travel very, very far. Time was also a problem. Jerec would have to spend weeks on a ship sailing to wherever Ike and Elincia had gone, and then once he'd arrived, he would need to seek them out, which could take months. After that, he'd need to spend several more weeks sailing back to Tellius, and then he'd need to spend another several weeks traveling to Daein, as it lay in the opposite direction of any likely ports where this long odyssey would begin. There was no guarantee that Tauroneo could wait that long, especially if some misfortune threatened his half-sibling and his or her mother.

"No offense, Ike, but there are some things which are more trouble than even you're worth," Jerec said with a resigned shrug. "Besides, if we do have to learn to get on without you, it'll have to start somewhere."

With that, Jerec pressed on and eventually reached the town of Mitox. It was a small but busy community of craftsman and traders; the sort of people who worked with great dedication, took pride in their wares, and struck honest, if hard bargains. Though Jerec looked and acted the part of a rootless wanderer, this town was probably the one place he frequented, and he'd had taken jobs fairly often while in the area before visiting Shea and Blake at the tavern. After sauntering through the town for a few minutes, during which Jerec mulled over what and how much to say to Shea and Blake, he approached the stone building which was his destination. It was fairly deep in the town, cunningly positioned so that anyone passing through the town was certain to notice it and consider stepping inside. Still uncertain of what to do when he entered, Jerec paused to force in a deep breath and turned his gaze upon the sign above the door. The words "Bullhorn Tavern" were painted upon it in large letters, and below these was the pained shape of a bull's head, its horns curving upwards to frame the tavern's name. Besides the Greil Mercenaries' base of operations, the Bullhorn Tavern was the only place where Jerec truly felt welcome, despite his secret. It also helped that it was a reputable establishment; well maintained, run by honest folk, and where room and board was reasonably priced.

Taverns like the Bullhorn struck quite a contrast to others which could be found in the more unsavory places of the world, which were run-down, overpriced, and where opiates and favors from loose women were sold more often than the beer.

That notion stopped Jerec as surely as if he'd wandered into a solid wall. Could his half-sibling have come into being in such an unseemly fashion? He tried to shake off the notion, shook until his neck ached, but the cold suspicion persisted. In some such seedy establishments, women of high ambition and few scruples would often arrange to entrap men of means, especially ones who were married. After coaxing their prey into a night of passion, they'd blackmail their quarry, who would then face the dilemma of either risking public humiliation or risk paying for the woman's silence for years to come. Some of these women even went so far as to deliberately get pregnant so that they'd have that much more leverage.

Again, Jerec found himself wondering if that could've been how he'd come to have a half-sibling. He tried to deny it, to tell himself that Bryce was neither unfaithful to his wife's memory nor foolish enough to blunder into such a trap…

…yet, upon reflection, he could not think of another explanation for how Bryce had fathered another child after his wife's passing.

And, the possible implications of that unsettled Jerec greatly.

"If I didn't need a drink before, I sure do now," he muttered, opening the door.

The little bell above the door gave a jingle as Jerec entered and made his way to his usual spot at the bar. The tavern was a small but well-kept establishment, housing less than a dozen wooden tables scattered about the common room. Hunting trophies adorned the walls while bear skin rugs and a crackling fire in the fireplace helped to ward off the chill from outside. The Bullhorn had few customers there at the moment either, likely because lunch time was over and dinner was still a few hours off. Yet, fond though Jerec was of this place and the people who ran it, he could not keep a melancholy sigh from parting his lips as he sat down. Shea and Blake seemed to already be prepared for the dinner crowd and, of course, they noticed the bell's jingle and turned to face him right away. Blake was a man who had to be at least in his mid-thirties, though he had a tall, broad-shouldered frame that many a younger man might envy. His dark green hair was cropped short, but was nonetheless unruly, while a thin beard lined his chin. While Blake looked very much his age, Shea looked much younger than she truly was. Shea was a slight woman, more than a foot shorter than her brother and a good few inches shorter than Jerec. Like Blake, she had dark green hair, but hers was quite long. She habitually coiled it into a functional braid, not unlike those used by female Royal Knights. Both siblings were clothed in white long-sleeve shirts, brown trousers and aprons. Blake also had his sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, likely to give enough of a view of his brawny limbs to dissuade any troublemakers that might darken his doorstep.

Though, Jerec suspected that both siblings wearing stout wooden cudgels on their belts provided the clearer warning.

Despite the impression their weapons might cause some, Jerec knew the tavern keepers to be kind and sociable people who worked hard to satisfy their customers. They'd quickly gleaned that Jerec was without family, the news he'd received that morning notwithstanding, and that he had few friends and little money. Sympathetic to his situation, Shea and Blake allowed him to work for them on occasion. In return, Jerec could bunk in one of the rooms of the tavern's inn for free. Jerec had been quite amazed by this generosity but had been most grateful, especially when he had trouble finding work elsewhere and his coin purse was growing light.

He treasured Shea and Blake's friendship, but could not suppress the nagging doubts about how they'd react if his secret were to be exposed. And, given his earlier musings, he was still uncertain if he should say anything at all.

"Heya, Jerec," Blake greeted as he rounded the bar to approach the troubled lancer. "I was wondering when you'd get back."

Shea also rounded the bar and, as was her custom, brought up one hand to ruffle Jerec's hair in a show of nearly fraternal affection.

"Did you get caught in the middle of your nap?" she wondered teasingly, well aware of the Daein vagabond's sleeping habits.

Normally, such a jibe would've gotten a spluttered denial or a blush out of Jerec. But, when the lancer didn't even seem to notice Shea's words, she exchanged a concerned glance with her brother. The oblivious Jerec remained silent, but his silence likely betrayed his melancholy, for the two siblings pressed in closer and Blake snapped his fingers to rouse the lancer from his reverie.

"Oh!" Jerec blurted, startled. "Sorry about that. What were you saying?"

The Daein vagabond had made a fumbling attempt to keep his tone neutral but, judging from the glances the two siblings shared, they'd had little trouble hearing the gloominess in his voice.

"What's the matter? You seem to have a lot on your mind," Blake observed. Jerec snorted humorlessly at that supreme understatement, but could not argue the point. He did have a lot on his mind, so much so that his head felt as though ready to crack under the strain of holding it all in. Gnashing his teeth against the pain, he tried to sort through all the inner tumult which Tauroneo's letter had stirred in him…

…and, he was having little success.

He had no idea who this woman was that his father had been involved with. His father had made no mention of her at all, which considering his earlier ruminations, was not reassuring, and Tauroneo hadn't divulged her name or where she lived. He knew even less about his apparent half-sibling. Bryce had never taken Jerec aside to admit the truth to his son, another lapse which the lancer was hesitant to dwell on, and Tauroneo's letter hadn't contained any clues as to his half-sibling's name or whereabouts. Jerec had no way of knowing if Bryce had had any contact with the woman over the years, but the fact that they were never married caused his heart to clench.

Jerec liked to think that he would've understood if his father had remarried, maybe that he'd even have liked having a little brother or sister, but something in the core of his being kept Jerec from believing that.

Maybe Bryce had felt the same, and that was why had never married the mother of his second child?

Or, could there be some truth to Jerec's musing about women who had affairs with men they later blackmailed?

If that's it, then to hell with both of them! he mentally spat.

He'd been about to wash down the notion of seeking out the pair with a tankard of stout, but paused when something else occurred to him. If Bryce's second child had been conceived simply for a scheming harlot to use as bargaining chip, then why would Tauroneo bother to send his summons? Bryce was dead, and his estate was likely considered the property of the crown, since Jerec had no interest in retaining a collection of old, empty halls. That left no one for the woman to blackmail, nor any money to pay her off with…assuming she even was blackmailing anyone at all.

My head hurts! Jerec inwardly fumed, feeling near to madness pondering the endless list of if's.

And, Jerec's next line of thought did little to ease the pain. Even if there hadn't been any blackmail involved, it still didn't explain what had gone on between Bryce and the mother of Jerec's half-sibling. But, though he weighed all manner of notions of what could have happened between them, one terrible question still rose above all others.

Had his father truly been unfaithful to his mother's memory, or had he simply been moving on with his life?

Unable to answer, Jerec let his head fall into his upturned hands and sighed.

Suddenly, he felt slender but toughened fingers rustling through his hair, bringing him back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes to see Shea staring back at him, her expression telling him that he had her undivided attention. Over her shoulder, Jerec spied Blake with his brawny arms knotted across his chest, and the lancer knew he was stuck.

His long introspection and gloomy demeanor had aroused quite a bit of interest in the pair, and they weren't about to let him leave without plumbing his secrets.

"A stout and an ale, please," he requested, already bracing himself for a long inquiry.

This was a mistake, he told himself. I can't tell them much, and this isn't their problem.

When his drinks arrived and he tried to convince the pair of his earlier conclusion, they were less-than-receptive.

"Oh, you're not getting off that easily," Shea remarked in a tone that, for all its coyness, brooked no disagreement.

And, as if that wasn't enough, the bear of a man who was her brother was now leaning against the door, effectively barring the lancer's escape.

"Not exactly subtle, are you?" Jerec asked the pair resignedly.

"Can't even spell the word," Blake joked, though his jovial expression quickly sobered. "I'm guessing that letter we relayed to you must've really been something."

"You could say that. It's…not easy for me to explain. Hell, I'm not even sure if I should talk about it at all."

And that uncertainty, he reminded himself, was just one more on a seemingly endless list. Yet, as he mulled that over, something came over him. What is was, he could not say. Perhaps he was simply tired of pondering unknowns and he wanted answers, however painful they might be. Or, maybe he wanted to find those answers to prove that the dark musings he'd fallen into about his father could not be true.

And, quite possibly, after years of wandering alone and keeping his secrets bottled up inside of him, he just wanted someone to talk to.

"I received news…" he began, a heavy sigh punctuating his sentence. "It was about my father."

"Your father?" Shea wondered, perplexed. "But, didn't you say he died years ago?"

"Yeah, he did. That's part of the reason I left…home, I wanted to get away from the memories. But a friend of the family wrote me with some news that's hard to take."

Here, Jerec paused to take a breath. He hadn't meant to reveal this much, but now that he had, he realized that the pounding in his skull and the tightness in his chest were subsiding. Perhaps he ought to tell them more, at least enough that they might understand his situation. Even if they couldn't help him, maybe just the act of talking to them about it would help to calm his inner tumult.

He likely wouldn't have another chance until he met Tauroneo…and, that wouldn't happen for quite some time.

As if he'd heard Jerec's thoughts, and sought to underscore the point, Blake came back over to the bar and lay one large hand on the Daein vagabond's shoulder.

"It must really be something indeed, if it's got you this troubled," the towering man deduced. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, but I do think you should talk to someone about it."

Shea silently accentuated the point by coiling her fingers around Jerec's hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze. The lancer nodded gravely and, after a fortifying swig of stout, he took the plunge.

"I just found out that my father had another child…after my mother's death."

"I don't remember you saying that your father remarried," Blake said.

"That's because he didn't."

Two pairs of dark green eyebrows shot up at those words, and Jerec couldn't blame them. Even after a day spent turning the idea over in his head, he simply couldn't reconcile the idea of his father, the man who'd been faithful to his wife beyond death, siring a child with another woman. Yet, somehow, voicing it had seemed to dull its edge. He still felt his confusion and frustration burning deep in his gut; if anything, it seemed hotter than before. But, it was as if the choking haze of smoke had dissipated, allowing him to breathe again. And, with one long breath, he gave voice to his fears.

"It just doesn't make sense," he admitted. "My father never showed any interest in remarrying, he never went more than week without visiting my mother's grave. But, he fathers a child with another woman who I've never even met? I've been trying to wrap my head around it all day, but…"

His words trailed off as he threw up his hands, obviating any further explanation.

"Damn," Blake opined after a long pause. "That's rough. I can't say I know how you feel or what I'd do in your place. But, I can see why you're so glum. So, you didn't learn anything about your half-sibling?"

"No," Jerec admitted sourly. "But, that might've been because my father's friend didn't want to put something so sensitive and personal in a letter. Not everybody keeps things in confidence as well as you two."

That much was true. Though secrets were divulged quite often when enough ale, wine, or beer had been imbibed, Shea and Blake had never been known to trade on the trust which their customers had shown when they were desperate to get something off their chests. And, indeed, the weight of this secret might very well have proven crushing if Jerec hadn't opened up to his two friends.

"Aren't you the sweet one for saying so," Shea opined, ruffling Jerec's hair again. "What are you going to do, though? You already said you have no idea where to look for this woman or her child."

"The only thing I can do is go meet with the man that sent me the letter," Jerec replied, inwardly affirming that he would do just that. "He says he'll be able to explain everything. Here's hoping he's right."

"You trust him?"

"With my life. I've known him since I was a boy, and he was like a mentor to me."

"And, you aren't easy to impress," Blake chimed in. "But, how did you know the letter was from this friend of yours? The messenger who passed it to us said it was only signed with one initial."

"Yeah, but the sender left me hints, and I recognized his…handwriting."

"Makes sense," Shea opined. "So, when do you plan on leaving?"

"As soon as I can. It's a long trip to see my friend, especially since I'll likely have to go on foot. And…I might need the time to brace myself for what I find out."

Hearing the grim anticipation in his voice, Shea lowered herself onto an adjacent stool and draped her arm around Jerec's shoulder.

"Let me give you some advice before you leave," Shea began, once more using the tone that brooked no argument. "I know you won't tell us any more than you already have. Heck, I probably would've said a lot less in your place. But, over the years, you've told us a fair bit about your father. And, what you have told us says that he was a good man. When you're ready to knock on that door, you will learn things that will be hard to swallow. But, it may not turn out to be as dim as you might think. If he raised someone like you, he's earned the benefit of the doubt. Remember that, and I think you'll do fine."

From the creaking at Jerec's back, he gleaned that Blake must've settled into the stool behind him. When a clap to the back nearly sent him sprawling to the floor, Jerec was certain of it.

"Why don't you have a meal before you go?" Blake suggested. "You must be hungry, and it sounds like you've a rough time ahead of you. It's on the house. Think of it as our way of giving you a send-off before you go on your little mission."

"Oh, much obliged," Jerec replied, despite the sudden crick in his back.

"Not at all. Good luck on your search, and I hope you'll be back to tell us about it."

"Sure thing!"

With that, Jerec placed an order for a lamb shank, a loaf of bread, and some soup. As Blake and Shea headed to the kitchen at the back of the tavern, Jerec let his mind wander. As Shea had pointed out, he'd said quite a bit about his father, though with some strategic omissions. They knew he was a distinguished soldier in the army, though he avoided saying whose army, and that his wife had died in childbirth some years ago. They knew he had been a dedicated father and his honor and loyalty had been unwavering right to the end.

Even to those who didn't deserve it, Jerec mused, mentally spitting on Ashnard's grave.

Even so, despite all Jerec had kept from them, Shea and Blake seemed more than sincere when they voiced their opinion that Bryce had been a good man. Maybe Jerec was simply a good storyteller, or maybe the tavern keepers were great judges of character; indeed, they'd have to be if they could glean such from a few anecdotes. Still, their affirmation did make Jerec feel a bit better. Maybe the answers he found would prove that their assessment, and his own, were right. And, even if that did not happen, Jerec promised himself that he would give his father the benefit of the doubt.

As the smell of savory lamb tickled his nostrils, Jerec idly wondered how Ike would react if he learned about the lancer getting a free meal. Ike was well known for wielding a sword with unparalleled skill and for having a magnificent physique that a berserker could be impressed with. However, those who knew Ike personally were also aware that one of his most famous characteristics was his monstrous appetite.

Well, maybe "infamous" would be more appropriate, Jerec inwardly snickered.

Indeed, Jerec had witnessed what ensued when Ike was at the table, and the spectacle had truly boggled his mind. Much to Ike's chagrin, his eating habits had inspired quite the running gag amongst the other Greil Mercenaries, as well as Elincia. When the two of them had talked about the future they hoped to secure for themselves, she would tease him about how, if their baby inherited his appetite, she would end up the size of a house by the time she gave birth.

I wonder if that's already happened, Jerec silently wondered, with another inward snicker. I know Ike doesn't have a malicious bone in his body, but I think he'd get a good laugh if Elincia's teasing came back to bite her.

It took the Daein vagabond a moment to swallow his laughter but, once the hilarity subsided, he found himself hoping that Ike and Elincia were indeed together and happy. Turning his mind back his earlier musings, he decided that Ike would be quite envious of Jerec enjoying free food. Yet, the first café or tavern owner to offer such a luxury to the hero of Tellius would likely soon regret it.

But needless to say, this imagery gave Jerec some much needed cheer.

The lancer was shaken back to the present when Blake returned with his meal, as well as a glass of wine to wash it down. The fare was simple, and patrons of the glitzier inns located in the big cities would likely have turned their noses up at it. But Jerec found it much to his liking. Of course, that might've been because of how he'd go for weeks at a time hunting, fishing, and/or foraging for his own food. During his time in the Daein army, he'd learned many techniques for finding food when supplies were running low or had been cut off altogether. But game and fish were scarce this time of year, and the birds whose eggs he'd sometimes appropriate for breakfast had migrated for the season. That left Jerec with only berries, wild fruit, nuts, and edible roots for sustenance.

Suffice to say, he much appreciated this rare and free treat of civilized fare.

Especially since, at any other time, civilized fare would cost civilized money, which he was always short of.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Blake spoke up again. "You might want to pack some supplies before you go, huh?"

"Ah, right. I should have enough medicine and water, but I am rather low on food," Jerec recalled. "The hunting and fishing is very bad this time of year."

"Yeah, I know. But, as it happens, you dropped by at just the right time. The hunting may have been bad, but the harvest was a big success. The nearby market has more fruits, vegetables, cheese, bread, and smoked meat then they know what to do with. So, you should be able to get what you need there easily enough."

"Oh, that's good to hear, thanks."

"Heh, no problem!"

With that, Blake returned to the kitchen and Jerec turned his attention back to his meal. It was certainly an improvement over those roots which had too often passed for sustenance of late. But, though he would never admit to it, the tavern's food wasn't the best he'd ever had. It was more than good enough to satisfy him, of course, but he couldn't deny that he'd had better meals elsewhere. In fact, as the modest fare passed his lips, he once more found his mind wandering back to years gone by. During his brief friendship with the Greil Mercenaries, he'd made acquaintance with one of their members, a knight named Oscar. As had been the case with all of Ike's strange, merry band, Jerec's first impression of Oscar had been less-than-flattering. Granted, the fresh grief of his father's death had likely colored his judgment, but the lancer had found Oscar's perpetual grin and permanent squint to be unaccountably sinister. Still, Jerec had to admit that, in addition to being an outstanding cavalier, Oscar had a talent for cooking that was second to none. Jerec recalled that Oscar had been teaching Ike's younger sister, Mist, how to cook when the lancer had last met with the Greil Mercenaries, and that Oscar had left the company after the Goddess War to rejoin the Crimean Royal Knights.

Now that I think about it, didn't I hear that several others left the company as well, Jerec considered sadly. It really is too bad. As if Ike leaving wasn't enough of a blow.

Indeed, the splintering of the Greil Mercenaries had likely been as heavy a blow as Ike's departure. Even before Ike's name had become a household word, Greil had forged a mercenary company that could give even the Royal Knights a run for their money. As far as Jerec knew, barely half of the Greil Mercenaries he'd met years before were still part of the company, which left it a pale shadow of its former self.

They still carried on as best they could, fighting off the ever greater numbers of bandits and other villains that plagued Crimea, but it wasn't enough.

Indeed, many believed that, with Ike gone, these dark times might never end.

The lancer shook himself from this grim reverie, turning his thoughts to some of the others he'd known amongst the mercenaries. Mist quickly sprang to mind, and he found himself wondering how she'd been getting on with her family now scattered.

Probably better than most, Jerec mused. She's made of sterner stuff than her looks would suggest.

She'd had to be, especially considering what she'd learned about her parents during the Mad King's War.

That train of thought brought Jerec up short, his eyes pulsing wide in dawning comprehension. Ike's sister!

"What's up?" Shea wondered. "Why are you gaping like the catch of the day?"

Despite her seeming flippancy, Jerec could detect a hidden note of sincere interest in her tone. Likely, she suspected that he'd stumbled upon some solution to his dilemma.

"I just thought of something," he said, his tone turning sheepish as the words to come took shape in his head. "I…think it's no secret that I've held back quite a bit from you and Blake."

"It's about as obvious as how badly you need a shave, but I've never held it against someone to have their little secrets. You have yours, your father had his."

Well, there's nothing "little" about his secrets, or mine, Jerec mused, but he offered only a nod in response.

"In this business, you can hear a lot from your customers," Shea went on. "Some will tell their tavern keeper just about anything, others hold back a little, and some keep their secrets. When they choose to talk to us, we listen. When they don't, we respect their decision."

"And, I've always been glad that you've respected mine," the Daein vagabond continued. "I really appreciate you and Blake giving me an ear. And… I would like to tell you more than I have, but I think it might cause problems. There are some people who'd react…badly."

"Aren't there always? Seriously, though. Do you have someone else you can talk to? Someone you don't need to be so reserved with?"

"Actually, I think there is someone else I can talk to."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It'll add some time to my trip, but that family friend I mentioned already knows it'll take me days to reach him. So, another day or two won't make much of a difference. Once I finish my meal, I'll get going."

"Sounds like a plan, but there is something you ought to do first."

With that, Shea withdrew a small mirror from her sleeve and turned it toward Jerec, revealing that tramping through the wilderness for days on end had left the Daein vagabond looking rather unkempt…

…to put it mildly.

"By the Goddess' left boob, I look terrible!" he groused, gingerly fingering the mass of red scruff on his jaw.

"And, I'm guessing it's been a while since you've had a bath?" Shea added, pointing to the door leading into the room Jerec had used in the past. "Get in there and, for the love of Ashunera, don't come back out until you're a little more presentable."

Since Shea was drumming her fingers on the cudgel at her belt, Jerec decided that arguing the point would not be wise. He knew from prior experience that, despite her slight build, Shea was a scrappy fighter and was more than adept with that cudgel. During one of his previous visits, the lancer had seen a drunken patron display an ungentlemanly interest in Shea's hips, as well as being utterly incapable of keeping his hands to himself.

Jerec had been about the give the drunk a piece of his mind, but Shea had beaten him to it…and left the drunk spitting teeth.

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," the lancer said, knowing better than to argue.

As Jerec finished his meal and then went upstairs to clean himself up, he reflected upon his earlier realization. In hindsight, he was bewildered that he hadn't thought of it sooner. Mist would indeed know exactly what Jerec was going through since she had faced the same shock and disbelief as Ike when they learned their father's secrets. He also recalled that she was one of the kindest and most understanding women he'd ever met. More than that, though her looks and cherry demeanor might make one think otherwise, she had every bit of the gumption one would expect of Greil's progeny. Jerec didn't know how good she was at giving advice, but decided that it was worth a try. As he'd said to Shea, Tauroneo surely knew that the lancer would have a long road to reach Daein, and surely expected that it would take time for Jerec to arrive. If the time spent finding the Greil Mercenaries helped to prepare Jerec for whatever happened when he met Tauroneo, he was certain the old general would consider that time to be well spent.

Still, the idea of visiting the current base of the Greil Mercenaries did present some complications. Jerec had learned that Titania, who had been the company's deputy commander under Greil and Ike, was now commanding the mercenaries in Ike's place. This wasn't surprising, but Jerec wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of seeing her again. Jerec had not gotten along well with the red-haired paladin and, during their last encounter, he and Titania had had an argument which had escalated into a fight. Jerec had managed to punch her in the face; though thankfully, an illness he had been suffering from at the time prevented the scuffle from getting any worse.

"OUCH!" Jerec exclaimed, uncertain if he was referring to the prospect of Titania punching him back or the shaving cut which he now spied in the mirror.

Dabbing at the cut with a rag soaked in hot water, the Daein vagabond mulled over what news he'd heard of Titania since he'd last seen her. He knew that, although she now led the Greil Mercenaries, she still called herself the deputy commander for some reason. Perhaps she didn't want to feel like she was replacing Ike entirely, especially since, in theory, Mist was next in line to lead the company. How Mist might fare shouldering such a weighty responsibility, Jerec could not say. He was certain, however, that Mist was too young and inexperienced to take over as of yet.

As he set aside the shaving blade and warily tried to cut his bedraggled mop of hair, Jerec reflected further on his short but memorable partnership with the Greil Mercenaries. During their search for Ettard, they'd stumbled across Jerec in the nation of Gallia after the lancer had made an ill-fated attempt to rescue an elderly laguz from bandits. Jerec hadn't realized it at the time but, during his jungle excursion, he'd contracted the illness known as Brain Fever. The illness had been killing him, and every beorc doctor who'd sought to find a cure had failed. Yet, by an incredible stroke of luck, the mercenaries had learned that the beast laguz shamans living at a nearby retreat could cure him, and they'd brought him there just in time. He owed the mercenaries his life.

That recollection, however, gave Jerec pause. He still wanted to ask Mist for advice, but was he really in a position to be doing so? Though he'd fought alongside the mercenaries, he'd sometimes felt that he had never truly repaid their act of kindness. And, of course, it hadn't helped that Jerec had been less-than-cordial when he'd first met them. He had been sent by Daein to petition Crimea for help against Arius, which had been enough of a blow to his already wounded pride. But, he'd regarded fighting alongside the same people who, at the time, he blamed for his father's death as insult on top of injury. He'd clashed a great deal with Ike in particular, especially over their differing attitudes towards the laguz. Time, however, had taught him better, and he now had great respect for the mercenaries and the laguz. But, even so, he now desired their help yet again when he'd done too little in return.

I have no choice though… I don't know how the hell to deal with this on my own! Jerec blurted mentally.

After quick soak, Jerec decided that he could not waste any more time. He did not relish the prospect of journeying to Daein, which might take weeks, without someone helping him ease his mind further. Once his appearance was somewhere near acceptable, he redressed, shouldered his knapsack, and headed back downstairs.

"Well, I'm going to hit the road now," Jerec called to his friends.

"Okay, good luck, Jerec," Blake replied with a smile.

"And remember," Shea called out. "You know you can always come back here when you need a meal or a place to rest."

"Thanks," Jerec replied, smiling back. "I don't know how long I'm going to be away, though. I have to go quite far to reach the man that sent me the letter. Even if I leave as as soon as I'm finished talking with that friend I mentioned, it'll be a long trip."

"Ah, no worries. Just come back in one piece. We know how things can go when you've been fighting bandits and all. But, here's a piece of advice: next time, have your hair cut by someone who actually knows what they're doing."

Jerec couldn't say he was surprised by Shea's well-meaning jibe. While his hair had been cut and washed clean of grit and grime, the crooked and irregular work he'd done with the scissors would make him look quite ridiculous to anyone who gave his handiwork more than a passing glance.

"Heh, is that an offer?" he wondered teasingly. "Sure thing. Well, good bye for now."

"See ya!" the two siblings replied cheerily.

With that, Jerec hurriedly exited the tavern. He angled towards the market where he parted with most of his ready coin for enough smoked meat, dried fruit, and leavened bread to last a week, perhaps more with careful rationing. After that, he retraced his steps back towards the field where he'd bedded down the night before. From what snatches of news he'd heard, he knew the small fort which the Greil Mercenaries now called home was in the same direction. And thankfully, it would not be too far of a trip, even on foot. After half of the original members of the Greil Mercenaries had left the group in the wake of Ike's departure, the big fort they had used as their base of operations was too large for the remaining members to maintain. They had sold it to a group of Crimean scholars and historians, who had converted it into a museum dedicated to the mercenaries as well as the recent wars. Jerec had thought it a fitting gesture, and a way to keep alive the memory of those who'd given their lives in the wars. He'd even visited the museum on one of those rare occasions he'd had coin to spare, and had been most impressed.

Sadly, not long ago, Jerec had learned that it had been burned down. Quite a few people had been most dismayed by that ill turn, especially people who'd lost friends and loved ones in the wars and looked toward the museum as a living tribute to their memory. Jerec had been truly enraged but, as much as he'd wanted to find the culprit and slice his throat out, he couldn't find any clue as to who had been responsible. Still, he kept his eyes and ears open for any clue that he might chance upon. He owed the mercenaries his life and, being a veteran of the wars himself, Jerec loathed few things more than those who would defile a tribute to those who gave their lives in service to their people. If ever he did discover the person behind that crime, he would make them pay for it dearly.

Edited by Anacybele
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I was about to post a feedback thread, but since there isn't one yet, I'll just reply to your comment here. :P

I don't know, I figured putting those notes was necessary since I don't want people to mistakenly think I'm a Star Trek fan or something. And I also felt it necessary to properly credit my co-author and explain the idea behind the story in case anyone is wondering (this has happened once or twice in the past). You can just skip that part if you want though, it's not necessary to read it in order to understand the story.

EDIT: Okay, now there's a feedback thread. :P

Edited by Anacybele
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Okay, chapter 2! Chapter 3 will be a while though, as there are a couple other fics I have that need my attention first, one being Dawn of Darkness itself. :P

Part 2: A Visit to Old Friends

The journey took several hours, and Jerec spent much of it traipsing through the woods, but he was able to reach the Greil Mercenaries' base before sunset. However, as the twilight deepened, Jerec began to wonder where he was going to sleep for the night. He had bedded down in the wilderness quite often over the past few years, and he would be warm enough with his cloak to use as a blanket. But, doing so again with the prospect of a roof over his head and a soft bed so close at hand was less-than-appealing. Yet, at the same time, Jerec still had some reservations about knocking on the mercenaries' door.

The new base of the Greil Mercenaries was a small fort, barely half the size of their former home. It consisted of a single building made of sturdy stone, with a gate in the front and another in the back. Jerec entered the front gate and raised one fist to knock on the door, but then hesitated. With another deep breath, Jerec reflected on another truth; he hadn't seen the mercenaries in quite a while, not since before the Goddess War.

Like many others, even a year after the war had ended, Jerec still had more questions than answers about the conflict. He knew that it had started with Daein, under the leadership of Sothe, Micaiah, and the now famous Dawn Brigade, regaining its independence from Begnion, which Jerec had been quite surprised to hear. On the heels of that news came word of a rebellion against Elincia, and Jerec immediately sought to join the loyalist side. He had fought in several skirmishes but, before he could make his way to the epicenter of the conflict, the traitorous nobles had already been vanquished. During that time, he had also learned that loyalist units were actively searching for Ike and his mercenaries, but that they were nowhere to be found. Jerec had immediately joined the search, but hadn't had any luck either. The Greil Mercenaries had finally appeared during a tense standoff between Elincia and the traitorous Duke Ludveck's remaining supporters, and the mercenaries had soundly crushed the last of the rebels. Though, where they had been hiding and why, Jerec hadn't been able to discern. Perhaps they were trying to hide from the enemy? But then, why hide from their allies as well? Jerec later found out that Ike's group had been hired by the newly formed Laguz Alliance to aid them in their battle against Begnion. Naturally, Jerec wished to lend his aid to the cause as well. Jerec has long hated Begnion and had heard quite a few stories from Ike about the corruption and hypocrisy that festered beneath its stately marble. Unfortunately, when Jerec arrived at the mercenaries' fort, he'd been too late.

Holding out hopes that they might return, Jerec had joined Crimea's army, though only as part of the irregular forces, as they were less likely to ask questions about where he'd come from, as new storm clouds gathered on the horizon. The next news to reach his ears had set his blood to boiling. An ill-fated parley between Elincia and the Begnion army had broken down, not the smallest reason being that one of the Begnion nobles had actually tried to assassinate the young queen. While she was unarmed. Thankfully, both Ike's group and the Crimean Royal Knights had been there, and had proven more than a match for the Begnion contingent. Still, it was outrageous. Though Jerec held few illusions about war having "rules," he nonetheless attached some value to a code of conduct. And, no code which merited the label would've permitted attacking an unarmed representative during a parley.

After that, though he hadn't thought it possible, the conflict grew worse and more mysterious. In a truly stupefying about-face, Daein had decided to ally with Begnion, which had thoroughly quashed any notion Jerec might've had about returning to his former homeland. He hadn't had much time to dwell on that, however. Begnion's vast army was formidable enough, but with their forces bolstered by Daein troops and the Dawn Brigade, who reportedly were that country's counterpart to the famed Greil Mercenaries, the situation looked bleak. But then, that situation was turned on its head when Ike returned at the head of the combined forces of Crimea, Gallia, and Phoenicis. At his side, of all people, was Empress Sanaki of Begnion, as well as several of her retainers and a small army of troops loyal to her. This had triggered a schism amongst Begnion's army, which allowed the allied armies to rout the Begnion troops still loyal to the corrupt senators during the battle of Riven Bridge. Jerec and the other irregulars had fought in several skirmishes within Daein following that victory until, impossible though it seemed, the Goddess War became even more bizarre. Even more than a year after the fact, the Daein vagabond could not make sense of the event. He simply knew that, while harrying Begnion troops in southern Daein, he'd suddenly heard a shrill, baleful howling. Then, on the horizon, he'd seen a beam of light shoot up into the heavens and then expand as if seeking to encompass the world. After that, everything went black.

Moments later, his vision returned...only to tell him that it could not have been moments later. When the strange light had engulfed him, it had been mid-autumn; yet, when he came back to himself, he stood knee deep in fresh snow. The others in his unit seemed similarly dumb-founded and, if the tales which had since reached his ears were to be believed, then hundreds, if not thousands of people had been similarly affected. He still had no idea what had happened, only that the various heroes of the many faceted conflict had rallied together to vanquish the mad goddess Ashera and that, when it was over, he had come back to his senses feeling very, very stiff. He did, however, feel that he should ask Mist about this as well. The mercenaries had been in the thick of it during the war, and Jerec suspected they might have the answer.

But still, how would they react to Jerec suddenly showing up at their door after having not seen them in years? Deciding that there was only one way to find out, Jerec brought his shaky hand to the door to give it three hard knocks. Minutes passed, but there was no answer. His brow furrowing, Jerec knocked again, but still no one came to greet him. Could the mercenaries be on another job at this hour? It was possible; in fact, Jerec supposed he should've expected such. Even in better times, Crimea had had never had any shortage of bandits, pirates, and other ruthless outlaws. Just as Ike's presence had buoyed the spirits of every honest Crimean, those who pillaged and plundered were often cowed by the famed hero. After Ike had left, however, every cutthroat, footpad, and freebooter began to swarm out of the woodwork, plundering to their hearts' content now that the famed mercenary was no longer around to threaten them. It stood to reason that the Greil Mercenaries had their hands full responding to the many calls for help. Jerec had also heard that the Royal Knights, the Royal Army, and other Crimean troops and mercenaries were sorely pressed trying to turn back the tide of brigandage. This had meant that Jerec never lacked for work as a mercenary, but it still infuriated him that so many people were suffering like this. And now, with his thoughts turning back towards his own problems, he found himself wondering if he could afford to wait for the chance to talk to Mist about his situation. With the crises in Crimea seeming to grow worse by the hour, there was no telling when she'd have the time to spare for him. Or, even if.

"Damn it!" Jerec fumed, slamming his fist into the wall. "Am I ever going to catch a goddess-damned break today?!"

"Sorry I took so long, I…wha?" a feminine voice suddenly rang out. Startled, Jerec turned in the direction of the sound to see that the door had opened. Standing there before him was Mist herself. Her long auburn hair hung loose to cascade well below her shoulders and she was garbed in a short red dress and brown boots. Her mouth dropped open when she beheld the red-haired man before her.

"…Jerec? Is that you?" she blurted in amazement.

"Uh, Mist!" Jerec replied, cursing his sudden apprehension. "Yeah, it's me."

The lancer's earlier musings about what sort of welcome he'd receive came rushing back to him, and he was already bracing himself for a cool reception.

Thus, one can imagine his amazement when Mist leapt towards the lancer and pulled him into a tight hug.

"This is a surprise!" she said cheerily. "How long as it been now? Two years at least?"

"Sounds about right," Jerec replied, awkwardly but gratefully returning her hug. "I was starting to think I'd missed you. I'd been knocking, but nobody came to answer."

"Oh, sorry about that. I'd been hoping to watch the sunset. It's always so pretty and helps cheer me up after a hard day, but…"

Mist trailed off, gesturing disappointedly at the still thick overcast.

"Yeah, it feels like it's been like that for months," Jerec agreed, amazed but not overly surprised that Mist could take such pleasure from something so simple. "Anyway, I apologize for not visiting in so long…"

"Hey, don't worry. It's still good to see you after all this time! What have you been doing?"

"Oh, I've been doing quite a bit since I left Daein. I fought in the Goddess War with Crimea's irregulars. After the war ended, I've been looking for work wherever I can. I've mostly been doing pretty much what you and the other mercenaries do."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd fought in the war. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. What brings you here now, though? You just felt bad about not paying us a visit in such a long time?"

Such a simple question, and yet the answer was anything but. Not for the first time, Jerec considered just swapping war stories with the mercenaries and taking his leave, but something in Mist's gaze stopped him. What it was, he could not say. But in those orbs of misty azure, he saw patience, kindness, and understanding. And with a heavy sigh, he decided he'd never have a better chance for help against his inner tumult.

"Well, I did," he admitted. "But I also wanted to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, really?" Mist said, her already cheery mood brightening further. "Well, okay! I don't mind at all! I'm always glad to help one of my brother's friends."

"Heh, thanks."

Mist moved to clear the doorway, but her lambent eyes narrowed quizzically.

"Are you alright?" she wondered. "You seem troubled."

"Tch, you can say that again," Jerec replied sarcastically, but then realized his tone might not help his case. "Sorry about that. Yes, I do have a lot on my mind."

"Ah… Well, come on in! The others might want to say hello too! Except for Shinon, though. Maybe."

"Ugh, that arse is still around? Lovely. Just make sure he doesn't piss me off."

"Oh, Shinon isn't that bad. Not always, at least. But I'll ask Titania to keep him in line if he shows up. You two never did get along, aside from when we fought Arius and his wolves in Daein."

"Yeah, true. I was a jackass myself back then though. It's really amazing how much things have changed since then."

"Tell me about it. Well, come with me!"

With that, Mist snatched Jerec's hand and eagerly led him into the fort. As Jerec had surmised, the new base of the Greil Mercenaries was a modest affair. Its halls were smaller than those of the original base, and there were only a little more than a half dozen doors branching off of its corridors. One group of doors likely led to a kitchen, a meeting room, an armory, and a washroom. Another group likely led to stables for Titania's warhorse, Mist's pony, and the company's draft horses. And the rest likely led to the mercenaries' bedrooms. Mist practically dragged Jerec into the meeting room, where Titania and Rolf were seated at a broad conference table. Titania still wore her long red hair in the braid of a warrioress. She had removed her beige armor and placed it on the table, likely inspecting it for damage. Rolf, who'd been well away from manhood when he and Jerec last saw one another, had certainly grown since then. He was noticeably taller, and had the slender but sinewy build of the archer he'd long aspired to be. But, he still had the youthful and adventurous look about him that Jerec remembered, right down to the boyish cut of his lime green hair. He was the youngest of three brothers who'd been part of the Greil Mercenaries, the other two being Oscar and Boyd, the axe fighter.

Titania had lifted her gaze from her work and, when she noticed Mist and their guest, her eyes lit up with clear recognition.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, Jerec mused to himself.

"Why, Mist, is that Jerec?" she inquired.

"It sure is!" Mist replied happily. "After two years, he finally dropped in to say hello!"

"Oh wow, Jerec!" Rolf blurted, the boyish delight on his face making him look much younger than his years. "I was wondering if we'd ever see you again! I thought you were pretty awesome after seeing you fight with us during after our adventure through Gallia!"

"Heh, thanks," Jerec replied, surprised by the praise, but finally managing a smile.

"Well, this is quite a surprise," Titania opined, though her tone suggested she did not regard this surprise as a pleasant one.

Jerec's smile quickly vanished as he let out yet another sigh of resignation.

"Titania, seriously, I am not in the mood for another argument between us," he said, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "I know it's been a long time and, believe me, I hate that I haven't visited since the hunt for Ettard. And I did try to catch up with you during the last war. Like I just told Mist, I'd been fighting alongside Crimea's irregular forces since Duke Ludveck reared his ugly head. After, though, I guess time just got away from me."

For a stretching second, Titania simply stared back at Jerec. And, under the seasoned paladin's gaze, Jerec suspected he looked every bit as haggard and weary as he felt. But, he also hoped that she could also see his sincerity, and that he'd come here in need of help. After another moment's scrutiny, her gaze softened and she gave a small nod.

"Well, Rolf does have a point," she admitted. "You proved to a big help against those invading wolf laguz and during the search for Ettard. I'd also heard tell of an irregular in Crimea's army that even the knights were impressed with. I had a feeling that was you. Why are you here now, though?"

"That means a lot, coming from you," Jerec replied modestly as he seated himself. "And I…well, I wanted to talk to Mist."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. But, if the rest of you want to listen, that's alright. I know I haven't done much to show it lately, but I know I can trust you with what I need to say."

That statement had gotten his small audience's attention and, before the words were even out of his mouth, Jerec felt the weight of truth which they carried. He'd had few friends since the end of the Mad King's War, his need for secrecy forcing him to keep everyone else at arm's length. But at long last, here were people he could trust with the whole of himself. Unfortunately, he still had little to offer them in return for lending an ear to his troubles, but decided that him lending an ear in return wouldn't go amiss.

"But first, where is everyone else?" he wondered. "I heard that a lot of the group had left, but I thought there were more still with the company than you three."

"Well, aside from us," Titania began, "Shinon, Gatrie, and Boyd are still part of the company. Rhys runs a school nowadays, in a chapel not far from here. We still see him when we're in the area, and he seems to be doing quite well. Mia's off looking for worthy opponents, but she drops in every once in a while to rest and help us fight bandits. Keeping the arms loose, she calls it. And, Oscar is back with the Royal Knights. He writes us regularly, usually so we can get a laugh about how out of control Kieran is, but his last letter made it sound like something was wrong. However, he didn't say much. He does still do mercenary work with us during his free time, though."

"Sounds kinda familiar, actually. What about the others?"

"Oh, you know Shinon and Gatrie," Mist replied. "Shinon likes doing his own thing on his own time. He's probably at the tavern throwing darts and telling everybody how dull today's battles were. As for Gatrie, he's about the same; always chasing women."

"Ha, that's true. And what about Boyd and Soren?"

"Soren left awhile back," Titania explained. "Some time ago, the Branded founded a homeland for themselves in the far east, and Soren went to live there. Boyd's still with us, but he's not here at the moment."

"Oh? Where did he go?"

That question, Jerec noticed, had a strange effect on the mercenaries. A wistful smile crossed Titania's features while the already excited Rolf perked up all the more. Mist seemed to be making quite an effort to look incredulous but, even if Jerec hadn't noticed the upward quirk at the corners of her mouth, he'd have had little trouble seeing that much of her displeasure was feigned.

"Boyd left on business, on an important mission for King Renning, and Soren went with him," Titania answered, her wistful smile broadening into genuine delight. "News about Ike and Elincia reached the castle not too long ago."

Jerec nearly fell out of his chair.

"What?! Seriously?" he spluttered in amazement.

"Absolutely. Oscar wrote about it in his last letter. You know that talk about how another continent was discovered not long ago, and Ike and Elincia were said to have travelled there?" Titania waited for Jerec to nod before continuing. "Well, apparently, it's true. The continent is called Altarais, and Ike and Elincia are fighting in a war there."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Yeah, we weren't either. Anyway, King Renning himself commissioned Boyd and Soren to undertake a mission on behalf of him and Empress Sanaki. They were sent to meet with Ike and Elincia and deliver a few things they're likely to need. Renning also wants to know how they're doing."

"Don't we all? I'm guessing one of those things Boyd and Soren took with them was that sword Ike wielded during the wars. Ragnell, I think it was? I heard he had returned it to Begnion again after the last war."

"That's right. But Sanaki apparently felt that he had a better claim to it than Begnion. Besides, if this war on Altarais is as serious as Oscar's letter suggested, it would be better for Ragnell to be there instead of collecting dust in some temple."

The Daein vagabond gave only an absent nod in reply. Though he knew Titania would not appreciate it, his attention had begun to drift when she'd mentioned the news from Ike and Elincia. Though the paladin hadn't said so explicitly, her expression gave the clear impression that Ike and Elincia were, at long last, reunited. That did much to lighten Jerec's spirits, though it did summon up still more questions about the future which awaiting the Hero of Tellius and the former Crimean Queen. It was no surprise that Renning was interested in how his niece and her lover were getting on, but what had the king made of their elopement? Renning had reportedly orchestrated the marriage between Elincia and Geoffrey, suggesting that he either disapproved or was unaware of her relationship with Ike. Though Jerec had no proof, he suspected the latter.

Which meant…well, he wasn't sure, actually.

Perhaps Renning hoped to prevail upon the lovers to return after they'd won their war on Altarais? It was possible. Indeed, with Renning having become king and Elincia having effectively renounced her claim on the throne, it was doubtful that the nobles would be nearly as interested in her and Ike's relationship. Or, despite his earlier supposition, perhaps Elincia could retake the throne and, with Ike as her consort, she might rectify her less-than-auspicious reign. Indeed, Jerec would like to see how many nobles would even consider being obstinate with Ike glowering at them from over the queen's shoulder.

Or, maybe Renning simply wanted to give the pair his blessing to seek their own happiness? But, what did that entail? Perhaps the pair might return to Crimea, but to reunite the Greil Mercenaries. That would certainly strike terror in the hearts of brigands everywhere, driving many of them back into their holes and allowing the honest folk of Crimea a chance to reclaim their lives. Or, perhaps the pair would carve out a new life for themselves on Altarais? Maybe they'd even seek their destiny elsewhere. After all, if both Tellius and Altarais had survived the Great Flood, it was possible that other lands had also. More lands still might have emerged from the sea, the floodwaters having receded over the centuries and, in so doing, quite literally opening up a world of possibilities. Jerec could see the appeal…in more ways than one, in fact.

Indeed, given the potential ignominy and danger that his true heritage might inspire, the idea of starting over in a land where his secrets posed little threat was quite tantalizing. Even if the people of Altarais were aware of the Mad King's War, and Jerec would be surprised if that was the case, they had not been scarred by that conflict as Crimea had. A Crimean would likely be quite hostile to the lancer if he was unmasked, but the people on Altarais likely wouldn't even know what or where Daein was. And, even if they did, they would not have nearly the same hostility towards him that anyone on Tellius likely would.

Yes, a fresh start was appealing. And, maybe that notion had occurred to Ike and Elincia as well. After all, on Altarais or beyond, they were free of their obligations and the disparity of their bloodlines, both of which had kept them apart on Tellius. Perhaps, in fighting in Altarais' war, they were already making new friends and had their eyes on a corner of that strange land that they would like to call home? Even if they didn't, the world now seemed to be a very big place, and the great sea could lead to many wondrous locales which might appeal to the uprooted lovers. Any one of these possibilities seemed as likely as any other he could come up with and he quickly realized that, as had been the case when he'd been pondering how he'd come to have a half-sibling, he was once again lost in pointless speculation.

I wonder if Ike and Elincia are chasing their tails like this, he wondered, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. When they're not chasing each other's tails, that is!

Despite his jibe, he could understand if the couple hadn't reached a decision yet. Aside from how distracted they could be by one another, it was a very big decision.

Still, the Daein vagabond sensed that, at long last, the road to happiness was wide open for the couple. And, wherever they were now, whatever they were doing, and whatever corner of the world they chose to call home, he hoped that they would live long and propser.

But, the war likely crowded out any serious thought on the matter. Still, happy though Jerec was for the pair, this news doubly confirmed that seeking Ike's advice would be impossible. He was much too far away and surely had his own problems. Still, what counsel Mist and the other mercenaries could offer might be enough.

"So, Boyd and Soren aren't back yet?" he inquired politely, hoping his audience hadn't been slighted by his silence.

"No…" Mist answered, sounding more than a bit irate. "Figures, too. Boyd probably jumped at the excuse to go bonk some heads with Ike when he's supposed to be back here so we can go on our honeymoon."

"Whaaat?! You and Boyd are married? Damn it, why am I always the last to learn these things?" Jerec wondered frustratingly.

"Well, it doesn't help that you're quite the hermit these days," Titania pointed out.

"But… Alright, you have me there. But can you blame me given my heritage?"

"Well, no, I suppose. Things might change later, with Sothe and Micaiah ruling the country, but Crimea and Daein still aren't exactly friendly with one another."

Jerec nodded, but only to be polite. Aside from fragmentary stories about their exploits in the Dawn Brigade, the Daein vagabond knew little about the new rulers of his former homeland. That they had bested the Greil Mercenaries once or twice suggested they'd be strong and effective rulers, but that did little to mollify his anger at their inexplicable decision to side with Begnion during the war.

"Still, I'm angry with Boyd for not coming home sooner," Mist continued, but Jerec heard more concern than anger in her tone. "And, Ike! He should've sent Boyd back home, or at least written to us. He hasn't sent even one letter! Well, if he keeps this up, there's always the picture."

"The picture? What…?" the Daein vagabond's words trailed off as realization dawned. "Wait, do you mean that picture?"

"Oh, yes!" Mist confirmed with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, my!" Jerec spluttered, valiantly gnashing his teeth together to keep himself from laughing.

"Oh, dear," Titania murmured, sounding less-than-pleased with the direction this conversation had taken.

Had Ike been present to hear Mist's threat, the Hero of Tellius would have been well advised to take it seriously. During the hunt for Ettard, when the mercenaries had visited the laguz shamans who'd saved Jerec from the Brain Fever, they'd also learned that the elder shaman, Rose Thorn, had known Ike during his childhood in Gallia. Rose Thorn had promptly adopted Ike, who'd still been a tot back then, as her little grandson and, from what Jerec recalled, she had been the single most indulgent grandmother he had ever even heard of. She'd been only too eager to shower Ike with whatever his heart desired and, even back then, food had been at the top of Ike's list.

Needless to say, her little grandson had become downright sizable.

How did Boyd put it? Jerec asked himself before he could think better of it. Oh, yes! "You put a whole new spin on the term "baby fat.""

Like a rain swollen river breaking through a dam, the laughter finally burst out of him, and was promptly echoed by Mist and Rolf. Titania, a gently disapproving expression on her face, remained silent and turned her attention back to her armor until the hilarity had subsided.

"I was…" Jerec said to Mist, breathless from laughter. "I was kinda surprised you guys kept that. I mean, the artist wasn't exactly flattering to you or Ike."

That took some of the mirth from the cleric's expression, likely because the artist apparently had no objections to painting the family portrait while the then-newborn Mist had been crying her eyes out. A moment later, however, her short-lived irritation became a wistfulness that sobered the lancer in an instant.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" he began, but Mist cut him off.

"That's alright," she assured. "Ike wasn't exactly thrilled about keeping it, but it's the only picture we've ever found of our mother. So, we felt we owed it to her and Father to keep it and remember them."

"I know what you mean. I really wanted to take a picture of my father when I left Daein. But all of the ones from our home were too big and, even if I could've taken one, someone might've noticed it. Actually…that brings me to what I needed to talk to you about, Mist."

"Oh, go ahead, Jerec," Mist insisted. "What's happened?"

"Well… Remember how you and Ike found out that your father had been keeping some…shocking secrets from you two?"

"Yeah. It was unbelievable. When I heard Ike explain it, I was stunned. None of it sounded real, but I knew he wouldn't have said such things if he wasn't certain. For the longest time, I just didn't know what to do or think. But what does that have to do with you?"

"Well, I received a letter from General Tauroneo. It was about my father…something he'd kept secret from me."

"What was it?"

"More like "is," actually. As to the rest, it might be better if I showed you."

Jerec then pulled out the old, rather mangled birth certificate. He smoothed it out as best he could and handed it to Mist. Titania and Rolf promptly rose from their chairs and looked over her shoulder to see the parchment as well.

"I don't get it, this looks like your birth certificate," Titania commented moments later.

"I thought the same thing at first. But look at the date of birth on it," Jerec countered. "It's not mine."

"Wait, what?" Mist murmured, squinting at the partially faded ink on the crinkled parchment. Titania followed suit and, as Jerec anticipated, their eyes pulsed wide.

"…By the goddess, you're right!" Titania realized. "This is dated only around fourteen years ago. And you're about twenty four years old, aren't you?"

"Yep," Jerec confirmed.

"Dang! This is crazy," Rolf commented, overlooking the mood of his older companions. "That means your dad had another kid! But why are you so down? Wouldn't you be happy to have a sibling?"

"Wait a minute," Titania cut in. "Back in Gallia, didn't you say that your mother died in childbirth?"

"Yes," Jerec confirmed.

"But you never mentioned anything about your father remarrying."

"That's because he didn't."

Admitting that, and the possible implications, ached like an old wound. The foursome was silent for a long moment before Rolf, who look more than a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, hesitantly spoke.

"…Oh. Wow, this does sound like something big then."

"No wonder you looked so preoccupied when you came in," Mist reasoned. "Do you have any idea who this child is? This certificate is so old I can barely read it."

"Not a clue," the lancer bemoaned. "I've been trying to make sense if it since…was it just this afternoon that I received it? I could swear it feels like weeks. I've been mulling over what-ifs, could-haves, whitertos, and whyfors all day, and I feel like I'm ready to lose my mind!"

He might very well have done just that right there, but Mist's small hand suddenly found his shoulder. And, somehow, the warmth and gentle pressure of her fine boned fingers pulled the lancer back from the brink. Though, as calm returned, he found himself more than a little embarrassed by his outburst.

"Sorry about that," he murmured, his cheeks reddening.

"Not at all," Titania reassured. "I can understand why you'd be so out of sorts, hearing news like this. And, this explains why you'd want to consult Mist."

"Yeah. Mist… I came to ask just what you and Ike did in my place, when you learned that terrible secret about your father. Because I just…I just don't know!"

Exhausted beyond endurance by confusion and worry, Jerec sagged in his chair, his face falling into his upturned hands.

"Aw, Jerec…" Mist uttered, dragging over a chair to seat herself next to the distraught lancer. "I understand. Believe me, I do. The idea that our own father killed our mother… It was like a stab to the heart for both of us. And, like you, I found myself wondering how the same father I remembered could've done such a thing, even if he didn't truly realize it. I found myself second-guessing…well, quite a lot. I never admitted that, even to Ike."

Out of the corner of his eye, the Daein vagabond noticed expressions on Titania and Rolf's faces which suggested they hadn't known either.

"But, even through all that," Mist continued. "Ike and I had each other. The whole time, we worked to help one another through it, I can say that. The mercenaries and our other friends were there too. Also, learning more about what exactly had happened , that what happened hadn't truly been father's fault, also helped to ease our minds. I don't know what would've happened if we hadn't learned that, but I can say that not knowing was much worse."

"And, what if finding out makes things worse?" Jerec wondered, struggling to keep a quaver out of his voice. "For all I know, the mother of my half-sibling tricked him into getting her pregnant so she could blackmail him. Or…"

He'd been about to voice a prospect that, incredibly, was even worse. What if, rather than the woman taking Bryce against his better judgment, he'd taken her against her will? Even the vaguest contemplation of such a thing twisted his stomach into knots and caused the ever-present lump in his throat to grow until he could barely breathe.

Titania must've caught his train of thought, because she snatched at Jerec's wrist and squeezed hard to snap him back to attention.

"Don't even think that," she intoned, her eyes hard. "You know, better than any of us, that Bryce wasn't like that. He was a great commander and a good man who, like you said after the fight with Arius, was unlucky enough to be on the wrong side. Heck, if he'd known you hadn't been killed in Nados Castle when it crumbled, he might've joined us."

If only, if only, the Daein vagabond mused sadly, but managed to pull himself together.

"As for…everything else, start with focusing on what you do know. Tauroneo wrote to you about this. Would he have done that if Bryce wouldn't have wanted him to?" the paladin inquired, and Jerec shook his head in reply. "Then, he must've wanted you to take care of this in his stead. Could some dirt end up getting kicked on his grave? Maybe. But, if he had good reason for wanting you to know about your half-sibling, he must've decided that it was more important."

"You might be right," the Daein vagabond admitted, with no small amount of effort.

"Good. Now that that's settled, are you going to talk to Tauroneo about this?"

"Actually, yeah. He wants me to come back to Daein and meet with him."

"Well, that's a start," Mist opined, a note of sympathy in her voice. "Even after what I went through, I can barely imagine how this must be affecting you. I mean, I was surrounded by people who cared. But, you've been wandering around alone all this time."

"I know… I wish I had more company sometimes too. Well, maybe more than "sometimes." But, still…"

"Well, you're still free to join us, you know! You're a great fighter, and you might've noticed we're kinda shorthanded."

"Yeah, that's really tempting. But… I'm still afraid of what it might mean for you guys, getting dragged even further into my problems. Let's face it, I'm still a Daein. My heritage is a liability that you don't need. Otherwise, I'd probably take up that offer."

Mist looked disappointed at the refusal, but apparently decided not to argue.

"Yeah, good point…" she conceded sadly, then threw up her arms in frustration. "Oh, if only Ike was around! I know my brother would know what else to say or do right now. If anyone brought up your heritage with him around, he'd probably cross his arms, glower, say "you got a problem with that?!" and problem solved!"

"I can believe it," the Daein vagabond agreed, amused at the imagery for half a second before his eyes began misting. "And I miss him too. Earlier, I actually considered trying to track him down and ask his advice. But, from what you tell me, he's got his own problems. I do hope that, someday, I have the chance to see him again. Maybe I will get that chance, or maybe he and Elincia will come back when the war's over. But, I know I won't find out either way anytime soon."

"Things haven't been the same here without Ike…" Titania agreed with a sigh. "It's so…quiet without him. We don't hear his grunts outside from training anymore, we don't hear him bellowing out commands to us, and most noticeable of all, we don't find the leftovers in the kitchen "mysteriously" vanishing when our backs are turned."

"Ha, I bet that last one is the most noticeable," Jerec commented. "Ike always was quite a ravening creature. Heck, I mean that literally! Mist has the proof!"

"He sure was!" Mist agreed, after nearly laughing her head off at the image of her herculean brother as a rotund toddler. "And I didn't care that he gave you a week's worth of my wages for teasing him about it. I hadn't laughed like that since father was alive. Hee hee!"

"Very generous of him, by the way. It really is amazing though, how he shaped up. And in more ways than one! If he'd actually listened to those ladies who'd said they'd pay to watch him flex, he probably could've retired early!"

"I can believe that," Titania replied wistfully.

The small group spent a long while swapping recollections of Ike and other absent friends and, later on, trading stories of their exploits in the Goddess War. By the time they were finished, the still overcast horizon had darkened into night.

"Well, thanks for taking the time to talk with me," Jerec went on. "I do feel a little better now. And when I see him, I'm sure General Tauroneo will be able to help me too."

"Aw, you're welcome, Jerec," Mist said, another smile dawning on her features.

"And who knows? Maybe things will change someday and I will have someone I can spend more time with in spite of…well, you know."

"Ah, yeah, you just gotta put your mind to things!" Mist encouraged. "And don't give up!"

"Heh, right. Oh, there's another thing I've been wondering about lately. During the last war, after Ike and the allied armies had taken Riven Bridge and advanced into Daein, I found myself and the others in my unit out cold for a while. Quite a while, in fact. One minute, we were harrying senate-controlled Begnion troops in southern Daein, in late autumn. Then, there was big flash of light and, we all woke up in the middle of winter. Any idea what happened?"

"Ah, that…" Mist replied, apprehension creeping into her tone. "It's a bit complicated."

Mist then explained the cause of the strange lights. Apparently, when the goddess Ashera had awoken, she'd cast her Judgement upon Tellius, turning nearly all of its people to stone. The Branded had not been affected, due to the fact that the gods did not know they existed, and a number of exceptionally strong beorc and laguz were also unaffected. These, unsurprisingly, had included the Greil Mercenaries and many of their allies. Hearing this, Jerec realized that he must have been turned to stone as well.

"Oh, damn… That's insane. I'm glad everything returned to normal," the Daein vagabond opined. "No wonder I was feeling so stiff when I awoke."

"I hear you. Ike and the rest of us were lucky not to have ended up suffering the same," Mist agreed. "We just happened to be inside a fortified building."

"I see. …Ah, damn, it's getting dark out now, isn't it?"

"It is about that time," Titania confirmed. "Why don't you spend the night here? Even if you've done it before, it's dangerous to travel alone in the dark."

"Yeah, that's a great idea!" Mist seconded.

"Well… I suppose. But do you really have room for me?" Jerec wondered. "No offense, but you seem to be tight on space here."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Rolf insisted. "You can share my room, Jerec! It's roomy without Boyd around."

"Well, I can believe that. Sounds good to me then."

"Alright!" Rolf cheered. "I'll show you where you can sleep!"

"Heh, thanks."

"Well, looks like that's been settled!" Mist commented with a smile.

"Heh, indeed," Titania added, stifling a yawn.

With that, Rolf promptly snatched Jerec's hand and led the way to his and Boyd's room. Knowing the brothers, Jerec wasn't exactly surprised to see how the room reflected its two very different occupants. There was a wooden bunk bed, the bottom, which was likely Boyd's, looking quite rumpled. Near that was a table upon which bowstrings, half-finished bow grips, and arrows waiting to be feathered had been arranged with an almost comical amount of precision, which Jerec readily attributed to Rolf. There was also a pile of books near the corner, though the Daein vagabond couldn't make out any of the titles in the dim light.

"Oh, Boyd reads books? Or are they all yours?" Jerec wondered.

"Ha, a few of them are mine, but unless it's a book about axes, Boyd just stacks them on his back when he's doing pushups," Rolf explained. "Also, you can have the bottom bunk of the bed! Boyd always slept there."

"I figured. Anyhow, thanks again."

"Of course! So, Jerec, do you have any interesting stories about your life as a mercenary so far? I'd love to hear about them!"

"Well, I've found some jobs here and there, but I can't promise they'll sound interesting, compared to what you and the others have done," Jerec replied. "Still, I guess there's no reason not to tell you. In fact, I'd never have expected the warm welcome I got from you guys. I mean, remember when we first met those two wolf laguz? I think their names were Kiel and Sara. I got into it with them, Boyd, and Shinon, Ike, and even Elincia… When I made up my mind to come here, I was expecting a…frosty reception."

"Yeah, I do remember that. But you know, Jerec? You might have been kind of a jerk to some of us at first, but you have toughness and bravery just like my brothers do! And you don't let anybody give you trouble! Most of all, you also proved that there are some good Daeins out there. You earned a lot of respect from all of us, especially Ike. You also proved that people can change for the better. And you're not an idiot meathead like Boyd!"

"Heh, I suppose you have some points there. Thank you. I mean it," Jerec replied feelingly, a genuine smile dawning his face for the first time in what felt like days.

"Oh, you're welcome!"

The rest of the evening went by peacefully, with Jerec recounting some of his first adventures as a mercenary to the raptly attentive Rolf. Luckily for the Daein vagabond, the adjustment hadn't been as difficult as he'd feared. Though most bandits and pirates used axes, his skill with a lance was more than enough to overcome that seeming disadvantage. Jerec quickly found himself sharing Rolf's excitement as he told a tale of how he'd come across a sea battle near Port Toha, where one ship belonging to a group of pirates that had been attempting to loot a merchant vessel. The owners of the besieged argosy had hired Jerec to help fend off the pirates. He promptly exceeded their expectations by successfully breaking through the corsairs, invading their ship, and slaying their leader. Those pirates still alive quickly surrendered.

Once news of this deed had spread, Jerec had quickly been hired to retrieve some jewelry which had been stolen from a family in Melior. Using information gleaned from his employer and some locals, he tracked down the thief and, by posing as a buyer for the pilfered valuables, lured him into an ambush which Jerec had arranged with help from the city guard. Other anecdotes of the lancer's adventures had included being hired to find information on traffickers of stolen goods, hunting down other criminals, and even striking down assassins. Rolf remained enthralled by each and every story Jerec had, so the Daein vagabond did his best to please him. The two had even gotten so caught up in Jerec's exploits that they eventually lost track of time, prompting Titania to curtly tell them to get some sleep. In these troubled times, mercenaries never knew when their next job might be, only that the work would be substantial. On top of that, Jerec still had a long trip ahead of him, so they obeyed.

Unfortunately, while Rolf seemed to fall asleep within moments, Jerec found himself lying awake. Usually, his sleeping habits would see him snoring before his head even hit the pillow. But this time, even though the mercenaries had eased his mind somewhat, the contents of Tauroneo's letter still weighed heavily upon him. Despite his resolution to give his father the benefit of the doubt, Jerec simply could not stop wondering exactly how his father could have had another child. As he had told Mist and the others, it could be anything. From a woman tricking him into getting her pregnant for blackmail, to a secret marriage and conception, or even a sexual assault. None seemed likely, especially the third, as Bryce was never known for wanton violence. But, Jerec was well aware that his father had been battling with persistent depression ever since his wife's death. Such, the lancer feared, was the perfect ingredient for someone to be coaxed, either by themselves or another, into disastrous choices. No less troubling, Jerec recalled a few instances where, while looking for his father, he'd unwittingly discovered copious numbers of ale and wine bottles in his father's chambers.

When asked, Bryce would tell him that he and the other Daein Riders were celebrating a great victory or some other special occasion, and that they'd neglected to clean up. But, Jerec was never certain if that had been the truth. He understood that Bryce likely didn't want Jerec to worry about him, but Jerec had been concerned nonetheless. He'd questioned Tauroneo, but the general would only reply that it wasn't his place to say.

Jerec sighed as he rolled over in the bed, which had the faint but stale smell of sweat. Boyd needs to get his sheets washed more often, Jerec silently opined. With so many thoughts winging through his mind, sleep did not come easily. However, exhaustion eventually won out, and he was soon snoring piercingly.

The next morning, when Rolf and Mist attempted to rouse Jerec, they found that, despite his mind having been a tangle of questions the previous night, he soon found sleep's embrace…

…and it would not relinquish him without a fight.

"Jerec! Jerec, you gotta get up now!" Mist called. The only reply from the slumbering lancer, however, was a raucous snore.

"See, Mist? I told you he's hard to wake up!" Rolf said.

"Yeah, you weren't joking. I remembered Jerec being a heavy sleeper, but this is ridiculous."

Indeed, the young mercenaries had spent the better part of ten minutes trying to wake Jerec up. They'd resorted to shouting, prodding him with the blunt end of arrows, and even snatching the covers off of him. Yet, for all that, the Daein vagabond snored on.

"I know, right?" Rolf groused. "He'll owe me for that arrow he rolled onto and broke, if we ever get him up. …Hey, maybe yelling his name together will work!"

"Ah, that could do the trick! Let's try it!" Mist agreed.

"Alright, one, two, three…"

"JEREC!" the two screamed out in unison. Jerec finally roused and, with a speed and suddenness which defied his previous lethargy, he sprang into action…

…which, since Rolf and Mist were standing directly over him, didn't end well.

"Ouuuucchh!" "Arrrggghhh!" "Yeeeeoooowww!" the three rang out as Jerec's skull plowed into those of his younger friends and all three went sprawling.

"Oww," Jerec groused, massaging his forehead. "That was painful."

"At least you're not on the bottom of the pile!" Mist shouted, her words somewhat muffled by the small archer sandwiched on top of her. "Get off of me!"

His cheeks turning as red as his hair, the Daein vagabond vaulted to his feet and pulled the two young mercenaries upright.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "That…happens from time to time."

"Yeah, I can believe it," Rolf grumbled, but then shook himself back to attention. "But, that's not important. Titania sent us because we've got a situation!"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"We just got a call for help. A nearby town is being attacked by a group of thieves and bandits! We could use your help, Jerec!" Mist explained. "Titania got everybody up as soon as she got the message… Well, except you, of course."

"You want me to join you," Jerec realized, his hands already groping for his lance.

"Yeah," Mist confirmed, the sudden nervousness on her face waking Jerec up more than his earlier mishap could have. "It sounds like there's a lot of them. And even if Boyd wasn't still gone, we're still pretty short on fighters."

"Heh, don't worry. I still owe you one, and I would've volunteered anyway. I'll come along and do what I can, but I'll likely have to leave once we're finished," Jerec replied.

"Okay, we understand. Now hurry up and get ready! We'll all be waiting out front."

"Alright, I'll be there."

With that, Rolf and Mist dashed out of the room, and Jerec, his still aching skull protesting his pace, quickly snatched up his armor. He fitted his black chest plate, the only piece of his original suit of Daein armor which he'd kept, to his torso and pulled the leather straps tight. His dark brown cloak followed, billowing from his shoulders as he fastened it around his neck and charged out the door, snatching up his knapsack in midstride. As Mist had said, the remainder of the Greil Mercenaries were already assembled and were waiting for him. Apart from the trio Jerec had conversed with the previous night, he also saw Shinon, the magenta-haired sniper, and Gatrie, the blonde heavy knight clad in his distinctive blue armor. Unsurprisingly, the sniper regarded Jerec with a sneer and a derisive snort.

"I was beginning to wonder if Rolf and Mist would have you up before spring," Shinon said scornfully.

Jerec, who'd never been known for his long temper, growled.

"Say that again and your face will meet the pommel of my lance," he retorted.

"Shinon!" Titania stepped in, irritated. "Didn't we talk about this last night? Knock it off or you'll really have something to complain about."

"Oh, whatever," Shinon complied, though the sneer on his face never wavered.

"Now let's go, everyone!" Titania ordered.

The group then disembarked, making for the besieged town. For a time, the small band followed the same path Jerec had taken from Mitox, and he'd feared that town was the one under attack, but the group instead turned south. Jerec was almost relieved that Shea and Blake were safe, but that sentiment was chased away when they reached their destination. It was a community of farmers and fishermen, which he'd passed through once or twice, that straddled either side of the river Everfrost. It had the, rather obvious, name of Rivertown, and the town would've likely been peaceful and its people happily at work harvesting their crops and reeling in nets full of river trout…if they weren't running for their lives while their homes and livelihoods were being put to the torch by bandits.

Whoever had sent for the mercenaries had made a grave understatement about the danger which faced Rivertown. Flames burst from a barn in the distance while, nearer to the riverbank, a group of bandits were having a sadistic bit of fun firing arrows at a trawler. The small craft was listing in the turbulent water, and the small family crewing her was frantically trying to bring the ship to a safe anchorage without being riddled with arrows. Screams echoed down every street, many of which were slick with blood, while bandits looted and burned without mercy. Jerec growled as he beheld the chaos.

"Damn!" he cursed, his grip on his lance tightening until his knuckles popped. "This is insane! I might've left without a clue what was going on here if I hadn't decided to stay the night!"

"Good thing you did then," Titania agreed. "Let's split up and run down these monsters before they do anymore damage. It looks like the bandits are all on this side of the river. I'll attack the enemies in the south. Mist, Rolf, you two come with me and provide support. Gatrie, Shinon, and Jerec, you three attack the enemies in the north. And Shinon, Jerec, you two better not cause any trouble. Lives are at stake here!"

"Ha, I'd rather feather some targets that can fight back anyway," Shinon complied.

"Fine, I'll do my best," Jerec agreed, valiantly keeping his tone neutral.

"You got it, Captain Titania! We won't let any of these crooks get past us!" Gatrie proclaimed, much more enthusiastic than either of his companions.

"Good. Let's get started," Titania ordered.

The small band needed no further prompting. They quickly split up and charged into the fray. Shinon and Jerec seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to quarrel so long as they stayed out of one another's way. Gatrie, wondering if this foreshadowed an eventual confrontation between them, merely sighed and huffed along.

The trio turned into a maze of bakeries and smoke houses, knowing it would offer them some protection if the enemy archers by the river turned their way. A seasoned bowman, Shinon darted from one building corner to the next, peering around to watch for archers firing at them. The enemy hadn't seemed to notice them, probably because of all the intervening buildings. He cursed under his breath, wishing he could find higher ground to shoot from, but there were no stairs visible. And, to his further irritation, a bandit's arrow whistled past his head. Unperturbed by the near miss, he followed the arrow's flight to the roof of a nearby building. The enemy archers must have gone inside the buildings to reach their roofs. And, that left only one, rather unattractive, option.

Well, this fight won't be dull, at least, he mused.

"I'll have to try shooting down those archers from the ground," Shinon spoke up. "I can't find any way to get on top of any of these buildings without having to break into one of them, and they've likely barricaded themselves in. You two watch my back!"

If Shinon wasn't the only person in the group that would be able to attack the archers, Jerec would've argued the point. But after hearing another scream of terror in the distance, he grudgingly complied.

"Alright, fine with me," he said.

"I'll do my best," Gatrie agreed, wincing as a passing arrow ruffled his hair.

"Doubt that'll mean much," a new voice rang out from around a nearby corner. The three mercenaries whirled to see a swordsman and two axe fighters, all garbed in tattered clothing and hefting weapons stained with crimson. One of the axe fighters was bulkier than the other, and his many scars suggested a long career of banditry.

"Ah, lookie 'ere, boys!" the swordsman spoke up. "Seems we've got some live ones 'ere!"

"Hey, what if these 'uns be those Greil Mercenaries that be so famous these days?" the slimmer axe fighter wondered. "I come here for coin, not a casket."

"Ha, they be without that blue devil, Ike!" the scarred axe fighter countered. "With 'im gone, they're hardly what they were before!"

"Tch, you three dumbasses don't know anything if you think we need him around to take you walking targets," Shinon retorted, nocking an arrow on his bowstring.

"Yeah, I've even begun making a name for myself!" Gatrie added. "Does the name Gatrie ring any bells?"

"Why, I thinks I've 'eard of you!" the scarred axe fighter replied, causing Gatrie to smirk. "Every lass in every tavern talks about what a gullible dolt Gatrie be. Hike up yer skirt, you can take 'im for all e's got!"

That stole the smirk from Gatrie's face and sent the three bandits into a bout of malicious chortling, along with the nearby archers. Shinon, muttering something under his breath about perfect decoys, quickly feathered a laughing archer.

"Oh, ho!" the heavy axe fighter chortled. "How unsportsmanlike! I love it! But we ain't lettin' that go unpunished."

"Well said," the swordsman finished with a grin.

"Let's see if you're still laughing after we've chopped you into fish bait!" Jerec thundered, hefting his lance and turning to his comrades. "Let's each take a target!"

So saying, Jerec and Gatrie charged forward while Shinon feathered another archer. Gatrie's heavy armor caused him to fall behind Jerec, but he met his axe-wielding foe with a sword, which gave him an advantage. Similarly, Jerec brought his lance to bear against the swordsman, also seizing an advantage. Unsurprisingly, the two thugs that Gatrie and Shinon engaged turned out to be all bluster and no bite. One of Shinon's arrows thudded into an axe fighter's chest and, twisting in the air and firing again, he easily struck another archer. Gatrie's opponent, meanwhile, struck frantically, but all of his blows simply rebounded off of the blonde knight's armor.

However, the swordsman Jerec was fighting was proving to be another matter altogether. The mercenaries had assumed that the swordsman's unmarried features meant he was inexperienced. In actuality, he was free of scars because he knew what he was doing. Jerec swung with his lance towards his foe's ankles, only to see the swordsman hop over the whistling shaft, and then duck under the backswing. The swordsman retaliated by darting in and out of Jerec's reach, delivering quick stabs whenever he was close enough. The Daein vagabond was able to evade most of his foe's attacks, and the rest were turned by his armor. Shinon, having cowed or wiped out the enemy archers, snatched yet another arrow from his quiver and took aim at the swordsman. But, the swordsman and the Daein vagabond were pressed tightly in a whirling dance of death, making it impossible for him to get a clear shot. Shinon might've taken the shot anyway, reasoning that Mist could patch up Jerec if he hit him by accident, but he instead lowered his bow. Jerec wasn't exactly a welcome addition to the diminished Greil Mercenaries, at least, Shinon didn't think so, and the two were still at odds with one another. Still, Shinon knew he would find himself in a rather deep hole if Titania learned Shinon had feathered the lancer.

I'm going soft, he mused in displeasure. Ike, this is your fault!

And, his mood didn't improve when a winded Gatrie stumbled up to him, moving to guard Shinon's back in case more enemies arrived.

And, sure enough, several more foes appeared. Another swordsman and axe fighter charged in, likely attracted by the commotion and looking eager for blood.

"Ah, crud! Shinon, we've got company!" Gatrie shouted in warning.

"Blast it!" Shinon fumed angrily, casting a withering glare at the melee still raging nearby. "Damn it, we've still got that first sword guy at our backs!"

"I can handle him!" Jerec insisted. "He's better than I expected, but he won't take me down."

"Hmph. Fine, but don't disappoint me."

"I wouldn't be too confident if I were you!" the first swordsman warned Jerec, still dancing in and out of the lancer's reach. "You cannot match my speed."

"And I think it's time I made you eat those words…along with a knuckle sandwich!" Jerec countered, driving his fist into his foe's smirking face. He staggered backwards, giving Jerec an opening to impale him with his lance. Lonely though the life of a vagabond might be, it did forge self-reliance and inventiveness. Simple and crude his tactic might have been, but it had worked beautifully.

"Huh, not bad," Shinon reluctantly admitted, just as he'd finished turning his latest target into a pincushion.

"Why thank you," Jerec replied sternly.

"Yeah, I wish you could join our group full time, Jerec!" Gatrie added, parrying his foe's sword with his own, then quickly driving his lance through the villain's heart. "You'd be a real asset to the team, you know?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Jerec agreed. "And believe me, I'm sorely tempted. But like I told Mist and Titania last night, I just don't think I can. My heritage is a liability you don't need. And I still have to go meet with Tauroneo."

"Feh, your loss," Shinon opined dryly, though Gatrie gave a nod of understanding.

Despite Shinon's snide comments, Jerec had to admit he was touched by the offer. And indeed, he found the idea of joining the company to be most enticing. Before he could delve any further into the notion, however, the small group heard a sickening thunk and a man's voice crying out in agony. A split second later, a woman's voice rang out in a piercing scream of horror.

"That came from the river!" Jerec realized. "It must be the people on that trawler we saw being shot at earlier."

"Oh, lovely," Shinon opined sourly.

"Damn it!" Jerec blurted. "You two should head to the riverbank and find a way to take out those archers! I'm going to help those people!"

"What?! You idiot, you might as well paint a bulls-eye on your chest!" Shinon protested. "There must be a ton of thugs at the river!"

"Yeah, well, I have experience with rescuing hostages! I've gotten paid nicely for more than one rescue! Besides, if I can get their attention, they'll have their backs to you when you arrive. This can work, just trust me!"

"Okay, you asked for it."

"Ah, but just be careful! And don't let the poor lady get hurt! I'm sure she's very lovely and kind!" Gatrie, being Gatrie, inevitably added.

The Daein vagabond considered pointing out the likelihood that the man the bandits were using for target practice was the lady's husband, and that Gatrie would be wasting his breath asking her for a date. But, he quickly decided he'd be wasting his breath dissuading the hopeless flirt.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you two at the riverbank," Jerec assured.

With that, he darted off, following the sound of the screams. Jerec dashed up the road leading to the town's docks, dodging flying arrows without breaking stride as the woman's scream echoed the man's agonized cries again and again. Soon, he emerged from the clustered buildings and beheld the roiling waters of the Everfrost…along with a grim sight. The trawler the mercenaries had spied on the water earlier was beached on the riverbank and, as the screaming had told him, the man and woman who'd been aboard were at the mercy of a knot of bandits. Several archers had their bows trained on the man, one arrow protruding from his shoulder, and an arrow thudded into his knee as the lancer approached. Near the dreadful sight, another burly axe-wielding bandit was menacing a red-haired woman, pointedly gesturing at the archers' gruesome fun while she looked on in abject horror. As Jerec suspected, the man was likely her husband, and the bandit must either be demanding that she tell him where he could find something valuable or using the barbaric display to indulge his appetite for cruelty. Which, Jerec reflected, might grow worse. He'd been certain he'd seen at least two small children on the trawler as well. As yet, they were nowhere in sight…a fact which was hardly reassuring. Hoping Gatrie and Shinon weren't far behind, he raced over to the nearest bandit, yanking him in close by the collar of his tattered shirt and snapping his neck with a single, violent twist. Before the echo had even faded, the Daein vagabond found a dozen bows trained on him.

But, the bandits seemed to have momentarily forgotten their hostages.

"You want to dance with somebody, you filthy scumbags?!" Jerec yelled, tossing the dead bandit at the feet of his brethren. "Dance with me!"

The woman gasped, surprised at the sudden appearance of her savior.

Jerec was tempted to shout for her to run, but knew that she wouldn't leave her husband nor her children if they were still nearby. And, even if she did, the archers would find her an easy target. So, while she snuck over to her husband and tried to drag the body to some place of concealment, Jerec made himself all the more distracting by spitting on the dead bandit's corpse.

It even worked…albeit, a little too well.

"Oh, what a right git you be!" the axe-wielding bandit snarled. "Lucky fer me, I got backup in case a worm like you wriggles in with a death wish!"

Before Jerec could retort, the bandit placed two fingers between his teeth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Two more axe-wielding bandits then emerged from the alley Jerec had come through, cutting off his only escape route, followed by a swordsman. Within seconds, Jerec was encircled and had a dozen nocked arrows trained on him.

Damn it… I hate when this happens, he inwardly fumed.

"Whatcha got to say now, sellsword?" the first bandit wondered in a cocky tone.

"Just three words," Jerec replied and hefted his lance again. "Bring it. On."

"Heh. Yer funeral, bud."

With that, the bandits swarmed Jerec and the lancer found himself fending off all four bandits at once, dodging arrows all the while. He quickly found himself missing the shield he had used as an armored halberdier in the Daein army, but his experiences since then allowed him to hold his own. As a lone mercenary, Jerec needed to learn how to defend himself from multiple enemies, as he only rarely had allies to help him. He had trained himself to be able to listen for enemies seeking to attack him from behind and coming at him from out of his line of sight. And, listen he did, managing to raise his lance to meet an axe swinging at him from behind. The bandit, undeterred, bore down with all his might, threatening to split Jerec's skull like a melon, but Jerec was strong enough to keep the bandit's blade at bay. The swordsman, thinking the lancer had given him a clear opening, thrust his blade at Jerec's heart. The Daein vagabond, however, anticipated the move and simply twisted out of the blade's path. The blade whistled under the lancer's arm and impaled the axe bandit instead. The axe bandit gargled and toppled forward, the swordsman's blade lodged deep in his chest.

"Aw, HELL!" the swordsman blurted, stupefied at what had just happened.

"You think that's embarrassing? Watch this!" Jerec spat.

So saying, he lunged forward, snatching up the swordsman by the collar and holding him up like a shield. And, sure enough, three arrows meant for the Daein vagabond promptly buried themselves in the bandit's back.

"Guess you can't watch that, actually," the lancer said darkly as he tossed aside the dying bandit.

"I admit, yer no slouch when it comes ta fightin'," the remaining axe fighter conceded, and then grinned. "But, they do say the brave be the first to be dyin'."

Jerec tensed for what he expected would be a renewed assault. But, instead, the axe fighter raised his hand and shaped his fingers into some sort of symbol. Jerec belatedly realized it was a signal, and suddenly, an arrow pierced his back.

"AAAUGH!" he bellowed, the impact pitching him forward land on the hard cobblestone. These bandits must've had an archer or two waiting on the roofs overlooking the docks, waiting to ambush anyone approaching the villains holding the riverbank. Before Jerec could finish cursing himself for a fool, the remaining two bandits charged amidst a hail of arrows. But, the lancer wasn't giving up yet. Though blood was gushing out of his back and his whole torso flared in agony, he vaulted to his feet. Unfortunately, while he could side-step the bandits' clumsy axe strikes, the arrow in his flesh dug deeper with every motion, tearing the wound open wider and wider and making it impossible for him to move nearly as well as before. The bandits, sensing his predicament, apparently decided not to kill him right away. Instead, they must've decided they would rather draw out this fight and make sure the lancer suffered first. The lancer managed to knock one bandit into the path of an oncoming arrow, but the bandit was only grazed. The two bandits forced him to the ground and began to punch and kick the lancer relentlessly. Most the archers ceased firing, instead cheering on their fellows, while one or two tried to land arrows in Jerec's exposed legs and forearms. Jerec's head, face, arms, and torso were soon covered in bruises while blood continued to pool beneath him.

Damn it, Jerec fumed. Gatrie, Shinon, where the hell are you?!

Soon enough, Jerec could barely stand, let alone fight back. His ribs and jaw throbbed, but the pain was becoming strangely, ominously distant.

The bandits merely laughed at his misfortune.

"Ha, I thinks we're done here, boys," the lead axe fighter decided. "This chump won't be causin' us anymore trouble."

"Heh, heh, yeah," one of the bandit archers seconded. "That arrow's got 'im bleedin' like a stuck pig. You can count the seconds 'till he's dead!"

With that, the three cackling bandits departed the alley, leaving Jerec helpless upon the blood slick stones. He attempted to drag himself back into the alley, hoping he might discover a vulnerary amongst his belongings and heal himself enough to seek out Titania, Mist, and Rolf, or even rejoin the fight. As his vision swam and his limbs grew weary, he called out to the still absent Gatrie and Shinon, hoping they might be nearby.

However, when his calls went unanswered, Jerec began to despair. He couldn't die here, not when so much was yet undone, but the coldness of the grave was beginning to settle upon him and everything seemed further and further away. The last thing Jerec sensed was a blunt force striking him in the back of the head and the world slowly went black…

Edited by Anacybele
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  • 1 year later...

So after well over a YEAR, I'm finally bringing this back for updates. I'm going to wrap it up later as well, so the next update or two after this shouldn't take nearly as long. And these next two parts were originally just one chapter, but it got split up after revisions with my co-author made it a lot longer. lol But honestly, I think this was a good thing in more ways than one, because I feel like it was better for Jerec and Melanie to meet and fall in love in different chapters rather than the same one. It feels less rushed that way. But here we go! Part 4 will be in the next post. :)

Part 3: A Lonely Soldier

When Jerec saw the darkness and felt the tightness in his chest that made each breath an effort, the first thing that sprang to mind was Nados Castle.

Gotta get out of here before I suffocate! he silently affirmed, not daring to even think aloud for fear that each gasp might be his last.

Forcing himself to be calm and to think only of those stones he needed to shift in order to free himself - rather than the several thousand that might cascade down upon him at even one wrong move - he began to excavate his path to freedom inch by laborious inch. He had to escape this ruin and rejoin his father, lest the war be lost in his absence…

except, something about the train of thought rang oddly in his ear.

He remembered the stunned disbelief he'd felt at the sight of the Black Knight, champion of Daein, having been vanquished at the hands of a blue-haired swordsman who was barely out of boyhood, and yet who'd wielded an enormous golden bladed sword with the skill and ease a man twice his age and size could be impressed with.

Jerec hated that champion of Crimea who marched at the head of an army of laguz…

Wait, shouldn't that be sub-humans? he asked himself, his labors suddenly forgotten in this moment of confusion.

And, for that matter, why did that hatred feel so...distant? Almost like a memory from long ago, or one that had been held by a different man. Or both. No less bizarre, something chased away the urgency of returning to King Ashnard's rapidly disintegrating war effort, and in its place was…

grief?

This brought the lancer up short, for he could not discern from whence came this sudden sense that something precious to him, precious beyond description, was lost. He doubted it was the Black Knight, for as awed as Jerec was by the mysterious figure's prowess and well aware of how his demise would affect Daein morale, this sense of loss felt so much deeper, darker, and more intimate. Much like a wound over his very heart which, while it might scab over and eventually cease aching, would never truly heal. Perplexed, Jerec groped in the darkness for the heater shield he'd always carried, carved with the symbols of the two sacred blades and Ettard, personal sword of his father's old friend, General Gawain. When his blindly wandering fingers discovered it, however, yet another bizarre thought rose unbidden.

I gave this to Ike, his mind blurted, but this only thickened the haze of confusion which seemed no less choking that the thinning air of his prison. But, why would I do that? He's my enemy, and how could I have given it to him if it's still here?

Unable to answer his own questions, Jerec shifted aside several of the stones and, using the shield that had saved his life to ward off any detritus that might seek to complete his entombment, used one hand to scratch and claw a small tunnel in the dirt. Once he'd deemed it wide enough, he shimmied through on knees and elbows until, at long last, he emerged onto the fields of occupied Crimea…

except, picturesque though it was, the landscape that greeted him was definitely not the fields around Nados Castle. It was a pastoral land of rolling hills and expansive grasslands, redolent with copses of trees and patches of wildflowers, all common sights in Crimea, but the view was marred by the strangely leaden sky…

and the veritable menagerie of statues, beorc and laguz - why was he using those terms instead of human and subhuman?! - frozen in what looked like fierce battle. All thoughts of the war that seemed strangely distant - and his hatred for the young general of Crimea which seemed even more distant - fled his mind as he wandered the menagerie, wonderment and morbid fascination mingling at how realistic these statues were…

almost as if they'd once been alive.

Something, he knew not what, began to prod at the back of his mind following that ridiculous musing…which, some strange and yet insistent flicker of thought told him, might not be so ridiculous.

Confirmation came when, to his amazement, he beheld a statue of himself…and yet, not himself.

The man he beheld was a few years older, more unkempt looking, and, most bizarre of all, he wore not the uniform of the proud army of Daein, but the patchwork armor common amongst the Crimean irregulars. Yet, there was no mistaking those features, so much like his father's.

More bewildering than that, when a stunned Jerec reflexively laid a hand upon the cheek of his stone counterpart, he felt warmth beneath his fingertips…and the pulse of blood through veins that, his disbelieving mind told him, came from beneath the stone.

There was a man, a living and breathing man with his face and wearing the uniform of the enemy, alive, under the stone!

Frantic moments spent probing at the necks and chests of the other statues confirmed that they too were alive, and yet inexplicably imprisoned as his other self was. And, the realization left the already unbalanced lancer staggering, his vision all but occluded by the haze of disbelief and horror at finding himself the sole survivor of a world damned to eternal silence by the Goddess's wrath.

Wait! That reminds me of something. But, WHAT?!

Bits and pieces began to come back to him, though not all made sense. He remembered a young girl with auburn hair and luminous blue eyes telling him of people having been turned to stone in the Goddess War...except what was the Goddess War...or, perhaps, what is it?

Maybe even what will it be?

If the statue he'd found really was himself, it must have happened in the future, after the war that had nearly killed him had already ended. But, if that was so, how could he have clawed his way free of the ruins of Nados and found himself who knew how far into what was, for him, the future? And, for that matter, how could he and his future self even be together in whatever surreal purgatory this was?

As he contemplated this bizarre riddle, and the looming specter of living out his days in this surreal purgatory, Jerec felt his heartbeat thunder in his ears and a cold perspiration bespangled his brow.

Jerec was a veteran soldier with years of service behind him and the experience of dozens upon dozens of battles. He had bested many a powerful beorc and laguz, and he had come away unscathed from more brushes with death than he could remember, though the hours or days he'd spent buried alive in Nados Castle would likely linger in his memory. Yet, none of that had caused what was now welling up within him and eroding his customary reserve as this bizarre new reality bore down upon him.

Panic.

"What's going on here?!" he railed, though only the echoes of his voice bouncing off of the stone beorc and laguz replied. "Where am I?!"

The echoes faded after a stretching second, leaving only a terrible, terrible silence behind, and the normally stoic Jerec felt his breath going short and hard as the silence descended like a pall over the world…until another voice rang out.

"You might say you're witnessing history," the voice, an older female voice, said in a strangely casual tone. "As for how long you'll be staying, that's up to you."

The lancer whirled and, to his amazement, he beheld a figure whose head was topped with the spreading antlers of a stag, beads and feathers and other oddments dangling from the numerous points on lengths of twine. And, if the tribal headwear hadn't been enough of a hint, the feline tail that swished about her legs certainly was.

This was a laguz shaman.

He'd heard tales about them in Daein - tales which, for some strange reason, he suddenly found himself looking back upon with a skeptical eye - and, though he was no longer certain of how reliable his mind was, this shaman seemed inexplicably familiar.

On the heels of that thought came a cascade of others. He saw this same shaman, beset by bandits in the humid jungles of her homeland of Gallia and, much to his amazement, he saw himself fight in her defense. But, the battle went against him. Then, as if that hadn't been enough, he saw the same blue haired swordsman who'd vanquished the Black Knight carrying him into a strange hut with more such Shamans. And, to top it all off, there were fragmentary images of dancing, arcane mixtures boiling with no flame to heat them, and his strength returning…along with his memory.

"Rose Thorn?" he asked, not entirely sure where the words came from.

"Ah, so you do remember," the shaman replied, her voice evoking images of a sweet and kindly grandmother, as did her face once she removed her headdress and set it aside. "I was worried all those knocks to the head you've been taking might've caused you to forget…though, I suppose the notion must be tempting every once in a while."

As his memory seemed to, finally, resolve itself into something he could make sense of, Jerec could understand the sentiment. He remembered emerging from his near-entombment beneath the rubble of Nados Castle to learn that the war had been lost and his father was dead. He remembered his ironic partnership with his father's killer to save Daein from Arius, the usurper king of the wolf laguz, and the even more ironic respect that was soon forged between the two men. He remembered how he had even come to respect the laguz after seeing their prowess in battle and the strength of their honor.

He remembered aiding Ike - trying to, at least - in his hunt for Ettard and the conviction he'd felt upon their parting that the champion of Crimea would fight great battles and perform heroic deeds now that he was armed with that fabled blade.

And, most of all, he remembered that he had a promise which he'd inherited from his late father, and which was now his to keep.

Yes, there were days he wanted to forget it all, and maybe even start over in some corner of the suddenly larger world where there would be people who'd neither know of nor care about his past, which had been such a gulf between him and even those in Crimea he wished to call his friends. But, regardless, he still had promises to keep.

"What is this place?" he asked. "How are you here? And, no offense, but how can I leave?"

"Not a very pleasant place, is it?" Rose Thorn asked, a bit too chipper for Jerec's taste. "But, you might say this is the threshold. The threshold between life and death. Just to be clear, you're not dead. But, it was a near thing. As for why you're seeing this, it might very well be that only you can answer that question."

Jerec pondered that question for some time, though what likely answers sprang to mind didn't quite satisfy him. Perhaps his mind had been fevered by his harsh life and brushes with death, possibly his imagination had been enflamed by what Mist had told him about Ashera's Judgment, or maybe those who'd said that those facing their final hours see their lives flash before their eyes were a bit off the mark.

Or, maybe this grim scene had been meant to drive home just why he was returning to a land he'd left to see a man he'd not heard from in years in order to seek out family he did not know.

He remembered the horror he'd felt at realizing that the statues around him had once been living and breathing beorc and laguz, condemned to petrifaction by a goddess driven mad, and the brief sense that he alone had survived. He remembered how, beneath the shock, disbelief, and confusion, there was the fear that those statues would stay as they were until they, and those within, crumbled to dust while he, alone in the world, was no less condemned to die from eternal loneliness that would inevitably turn to madness.

Jerec had been, amongst many other brushes with death, trapped for days beneath the rubble of Nados Castle with no likely prospect of rescue, the looming threat of death by hunger, thirst, or suffocation, and the even larger danger that one careless move in attempting to save himself could see him crushed to death by a cascade of falling rubble.

Yet, that had not left him even half as frightened as those moments where he'd believed his wandering amongst the aftereffects of Ashera's Judgment to be real, and that he might live out his life eternally alone amongst those condemned to petrifaction.

As childish as it might seem, Jerec simply didn't want to be alone anymore.

"I'm guessing you have your answer," Rose Thorn deduced, to which Jerec nodded. "You'll tell me or not, it is your choice. After all, I am the one barging in on your dreams."

"Yes, I have my answer, and I know what I must do," Jerec affirmed, but curiosity got the better of him. "Just how did you know I was close to death, though?"

"Actually, I didn't. I was at my retreat, meditating, and then I was here. I can will myself into others' dreams, hallucinations, or even their near-death experiences, but sometimes I need to be invited in. And, once or twice, the dream I enter chooses me rather than the other way around."

"That's…no offense, but that's kind of strange."

"Ha, ha, ha! Well, don't worry, it took a long time for me to get used to it when I was in training. You'd be amazed the sort of things that you see when other people's dreams can wander into your mind every time you settle in to meditate."

Some part of Jerec told him that that pronouncement was as much an invitation as a comment. And, anxious though he was to return to the waking world, he could not help the torrent of questions that arose from the notion that Rose Thorn could chance upon others' dreams while meditating.

Had she spied into Ike's dreams, and could tell him how the Hero of Tellius was doing? For that matter, had the dreams of his half-sibling crossed her path as well?

As though sensing his questions - which, he reflected, might not be far from the truth - Rose Thorn brought up one hand, silently but firmly telling him to let her speak.

"I have been in Ike's dreams recently," she informed him, a nostalgic smile crossing her features just as surely as a smile of relief tugged at Jerec's lips. "He's in the thick of it, as always, but he seems to be doing well. And, judging by the...graphicness of his dreams, I'm guessing he and Elincia will be tying the knot soon enough."

Here, Rose Thorn let out a long sigh, a soft chuckle passing her smiling lips.

"Strange it is, how time flies," she commented, almost to herself. "How that boy has grown! So handsome, so muscular. If it weren't for Elincia, and if I was a century or two younger, I might try to charm him myself. And yet, it still seems like yesterday he was but a cub, tugging at my tail whenever he wanted some treat or other."

"And getting wedged in doorways because of how you always obliged," the lancer added before he could think better of it.

Rose Thorn was silent for a stretching second before she threw back her head and burst into laughter.

"Well, what did you expect?" she asked rhetorically. "He was practically my grandson, and all good grandmothers are anxious to please. Greil and Elena did complain once or twice about how much I fed him; didn't much care for the chance their children would grow into spoiled piglets with me around. But, I think we both know Ike and Mist turned out fine."

"True," Jerec conceded, though he was unable to hold back the inevitable snicker at the image of Ike as an over bloated toddler.

"And, family has been on your mind quite a bit as well, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Jerec admitted, this time without reluctance."I just learned that I have a half-sibling, and Tauroneo, a Daein general who was a good friend of my father, needs to see me about him. Or her, maybe. For a long time, I was conflicted about it, uncertain what to do and agonizing over what it all meant. Why would my father, who never showed any interest in remarrying after my mother's death, have a child with another woman? Who was the woman and her child? Why wait until now to tell me about them? But, I think this," he paused to sweep a hand over the tableau of Ashera's Judgment, "helped me to get my head mortared on straight."

"And, what have you decided?"

"I still believe my father was a good man, right up until the end, and that neither he nor Tauroneo would want me to seek out my half-sibling and his or her mother if any of my...darker suspicions about the whole thing were true. So, I'm going to go to Daein to find out how to track them down."

"That must not have been an easy decision to make, but I can't say I'm surprised that you've made the right choice. You remember how you felt about the laguz way back when, and how you learned differently? Ike had something of an advantage, in that his is an unprejudiced heart. But, having those prejudices, learning their falseness, and then seeking the truth? That takes a different sort of strength which, in some ways, is even greater. Fate can be harsh at times, but I don't doubt that yours will take a happier turn in the future."

"Thank you," Jerec replied, somehow finding himself believing her. "Just how long will we stay here, though? It is nice to have someone to talk to, but the Greil Mercenaries might be worried…some of them, at least."

Rose Thorn gave him a look, somewhere between knowing and remonstrative and instantly recognizable by any elder who chaffed at the impatience of younger people.

"For all intents and purposes, this is a dream," she said, somewhat testily. "You'll wake up when you wake up. So, since you've been starved for companionship for so long, why not be hospitable to an old cat who's stuck here with you until then?"

Jerec's cheeks took on an embarrassed tint, as he found himself thinking that, while Rose Thorn may have been the single most doting grandmother he'd ever even heard of, she could likely swing a mean cane when she had a mind to. So, the pair settled in and spent what felt like days making idle conversation. They swapped tales about what they'd been up to since Ike's hunt for Ettard, their respective doings during the Goddess War, and what snippets they'd learned about Ike and Elincia's adventure in Altarais. Their conversation later wended their way towards Bryce and what little Jerec knew about his half-sibling while Rose Thorn added some anecdotes about Ike's childhood in Gallia which, had Jerec been the blackmailing type, would've been truly priceless.

Suddenly, however, a strange sensation came over Jerec. It felt as though some unseen force was pulling at him. And, more curious still, his vision began to blur and his throat suddenly felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton.

"Looks like it's time," Rose Thorn told him.

Jerec tried to reply, but the only thing that could pass his lips were shallow gasps.

"Don't fret," Rose Thorn said, her grandmotherly side showing once more. "We'll see each other again, and in more pleasant surroundings. In the meantime, however, take my advice: you've always been good at surviving, but you should see if you can find a way to start living."

Jerec rasped out what might've been a request that she elaborate, but then an intense white light flared in his blurring vision and the world vanished.

"Oh dear, I sure hope you'll be alright…"

These words, spoken by a feminine voice, came to Jerec only distantly, and he could barely grasp their meaning through the haze of dizziness that nearly overwhelmed him. His eyes refused to open, his throat felt too dry to even draw breath, and he was so dazed that he could remember nothing of where he was or how he'd gotten there. He did, however, have enough presence of mind to know that the voice he'd heard, though kindly and soothing to the ear, wasn't one he recognized. She sounded older than Mist, but younger than Titania. Though his drowsy mind could not gather in the words, the voice did have a melodic quality to it, one that helped to still his anxiety. It reminded him somewhat of Elincia's voice, yet he belatedly remembered that she had departed Tellius and there was obviously no way he was in Altarais with her and Ike standing over him. For all Ike's propensity for appearing seemingly from nowhere when things seemed at their worst, there was no way he could've crossed the sea to rescue the lancer. As he wondered just what he'd have needed rescuing from, a sudden echo of memory stole over him. Fragmentary images flashed before his eyes of a man and a woman, likely husband and wife, being pulled from a beached trawler by bandits, the husband screaming in agony as one arrow after another thudded into his knee. He remembered charging to the rescue, and even slaying several of the villains, until many more surged in and swarmed over him. After that, he remembered only the onrushing darkness as he slumped to the cobblestones. Kind of embarrassing, actually, he mused, surprised at his own flippancy. Still, it did help him to make sense of how he'd gotten here, though he was impatient for his eyes to open and tell him just where "here" was. Regardless, it seemed obvious that whoever it was that was hovering about him must've found and rescued him. It surely would've been an impressive bit of healing, since his returning memory told him the bandits had left him bleeding out his life. It could not have been Mist, though, as she was on the far side of the town. In fact, it also seemed doubtful that any of the townsfolk would've dared the dangerous streets to help him. Unless…

He hadn't actually been saved at all.

Am I dead? Oh goddesses, if Ike, Elincia, or the other Greil Mercenaries were to learn of such a thing… Jerec imagined bleakly.

Indeed, all of them would be devastated if he had been killed in that attack on the town. Well, Shinon would probably just scoff and say that it was his own fault because he told Jerec he was way in over his head. Which, hindsight told him with characteristic uselessness, was true. He had insisted that what Jerec was doing was too dangerous, yet the lancer had been so incensed by the bandits' barbarism that he went off on his own anyway. And though he'd likely saved two lives, he'd lost his own. As his memory of the encounter with Rose Thorn came back to him, he found himself wondering if she had been mistaken when she'd implied that he'd wake in the living world. It seemed unlikely a shaman of her experience would make such a mistake, but maybe something went wrong with his supposed revival. Or maybe she had known that he would die and the companionship she'd offered was her way of easing his passing. Each and all made more sense than some angel descending to save his life. Yet, though it had likely meant signing his own death warrant, Jerec did not regret his actions for a moment. If the woman he'd seen had managed to drag her husband away from the battle, then it meant that a woman still had her husband and very likely, that there was a child or two who still had a father. No, what he regretted was how he'd underestimated his foes and died in a battle which, for him, should've been barely a workout. He also regretted that the mercenaries, some of the few Crimeans he could unreservedly call his friends, had just gotten to see Jerec for the first time in years only to lose him just as suddenly. He regretted also that, though he now had good cause to believe that Ike and Elincia were together and happy once more, he'd never see it with his own eyes, whether they returned to Tellius or if he got to see Altarais for himself.

But, most of all, he regretted that the promise he'd inherited from his father would go unfulfilled, as none were left to inherit the duty to his previously unknown family.

Yet, much like the same instinct that pointed out the discrepancies in his strange dream, some intuition of Jerec's rebelled against the notion, forcing away resignation before it could take root and refusing to yield unless it was proven beyond all doubt that he was dead. He needed to try to wake and find out who that female voice belonged to. And much to his surprise, his once uncooperative eyes opened, a rasping moan escaping his mouth.

"Oh!" the female voice gasped, and he saw a blurred silhouette whirl in his direction. "You're awake! Thank goodness!"

"…Huh…?" Jerec wheezed through a dry throat as his vision cleared at last.

He found himself looking up at a ceiling, soot stained from the smoke of the battle blowing in. He had a roof over his head, somehow. A crackling noise reached his ears a moment later, and Jerec laboriously followed the sound with his eyes to spy a warm fire blazing in a brick fireplace. Since this homey scene didn't much look the part of the afterlife, and since the bandits who'd put him in the sickbed might still be lurking about, he tried to rise, only for a wave of pain to force him back down onto the bed. Frustrated, he grit his teeth against any revealing screams that might pass his lips. If he remembered right, he'd killed quite a few bandits, and those who yet lived might be…displeased if they discovered they hadn't managed to kill him in turn after all.

Still, though he was groggy, dazed, confused, and in quite a bit of pain, he was still alive. Though he'd later chide himself for the slip, he let out a long and loud sigh of relief that, harsh though his life had been since that day at Nados, his journey had not ended so ingloriously and his promises could still be kept. After a long moment spent enjoying his good fortune, he lifted up his head as best he could and saw that his torso and shoulder were heavily bandaged. After winding himself with the herculean effort of lifting one hand to probe at his face, he discovered that much of his head was partly plastered with bandages as well.

"Well, I guess…I'm…alive…after all. Where am I?" he wondered hoarsely.

The question hadn't been directed at anyone in particular, and he doubted anyone would've heard him anyway. But much to his surprise, a voice rang out in answer.

"You're in my family's home," the female voice replied kindly. "I'm so glad you're alright! Your wounds were terrible!"

The once hazy silhouette from earlier, to whom the voice apparently belonged, entered the field of his still blurry vision. But, as the haze cleared, he beheld a young woman who looked to be in her early twenties. She had long, plum purple hair that flowed in natural waves, and two tendrils secured with yellow ribbons cascading down either shoulder. Her dark pink eyes reflected the light of the fire which accented the warmth of compassion that already glowed in those orbs.

"You were trying to fight off those bandits, weren't you?" the girl continued.

"Yeah, I was helping out… Oh! Damn it! My friends! They don't know what happened!" Jerec suddenly realized, and attempted once more to sit up, but his pained body still thwarted him. "Aaaagh!"

"Ah, please, you have to rest!" the young woman protested, gently forcing Jerec to lay back down.

"But… They could be thinking I'm dead for all I know!" Jerec pointed out.

"Don't worry, I think one of them was here earlier," the girl said, and Jerec wasn't sure if it was her words or her firm tone that made him listen. "It was a woman who looked to be her thirties. She had long red hair that was tied back in a thick braid, and she had bright green eyes and pale gold armor. Does that sound familiar? She came by looking for someone that fit your description and I told her I was nursing your wounds."

Jerec blinked, unable to hide his amazement or relief as his still foggy mind pieced together what she'd said and what it must mean. She had described Titania, and she already knew he was here and recovering.

"Yes! That was one of them. But she doesn't know that I'm awake now," Jerec replied.

"True, but don't worry. She'll know soon enough, I'm sure. Thankfully, the bandits were stopped by the mercenaries that came to help."

"What about those people on the trawler? The one that had been beached and boarded by the bandits? There were at least two people who they'd pulled out and onto the riverbank—"

The girl, surprising Jerec once again, pressed a finger to his lips and his worried rambling came to an abrupt halt.

"Again, don't worry," she said, her words soft and soothing. "Once I'd stopped your wounds bleeding, I removed the arrows from the man's knee. He's with a local priest whowill treat him. It'll be some time before his knee fully heals, but he'll mend soon enough."

Here, the girl paused and her lips broadened into a smile.

"You were still out at the time, but he and his wife asked me to send their thanks."

Though something in the girl's voice had already loosened the leaden knot in his stomach, a sigh of profound relief passed the lancer's lips.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied. "When I saw what those bandits were doing, I just flew off the handle and...well, you probably figured out the rest by now."

"True," the girl said, though Jerec heard not a whiff of remonstration. "Still, that was a brave thing you did. That couple you saved? They're my neighbors. They're good people, and they have children. Your little misadventure let them get home to their kids."

Jerec found himself wondering if this girl was the town healer, for she certainly had a great bedside manner. And, it must've taken no small amount of grit, or skill, for herto save the lives of two grievously wounded men in the midst of a bandit raid. Speaking of which, Jerec mused, I'd best find out when I can leave.

"You have my thanks," he told her, struggling once more to rise only to be forced back onto the bed yet again. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"It was a near thing," she said, though his visitation by Rose Thorn had already told him that much. "Luckily, I was able to heal you, and all you really need is some rest. But you're in no condition to be going anywhere."

"Ugh… I can't believe this!" Jerec fumed, but then suddenly realized just how the girl might take his tone. "…Sorry, I've just had a lot going on lately. I'm glad the bandits were taken care of, and that those people are alright, but I was supposed to be journeying to somewhere important right now to meet an old friend and now I'm delayed!"

"Oh, I see… That is quite unfortunate. I'm really sorry…"

"It's not your fault. It's mine for being too damn big-headed back there and getting myself injured like this. This isn't the first time I've gotten myself in such a fix either. You'd think I would've learned my lesson by now. And I thought I did. But I'm lucky that I'm not burning up and seeing things like I was the first time."

"Burning up? Seeing things?" the girl wondered, perplexed, before her eyes widened with realization. "Wait, you had Brain Fever?! But, how is that possible? That could kill the stoutest beorc in days, and there's no cure. But you're not even showing any symptoms."

"The beorc don't have a cure, but the laguz do," Jered replied, thinking once more of Rose Thorn and hoping to see her again in person. "I was in…poor standing with them back then. I was really lucky to have been found by people who are respected in Gallia."

"That…that is amazing! I've never heard of a beorc surviving Brain Fever. I mean, I'm sorry you had to go through that. But it's quite a tale. And yes, you do appear to be fine other than your injuries. You won't have to remain here very long."

"That's good to know. And thank you again for helping me."

"Oh, of course! So…what's your name? I'm Melanie."

"Jerec. It's nice to meet you."

The girl had been about to offer the lancer her hand when she suddenly stopped, her brow furrowing. As sometimes happened, Jerec found himself tensing up, wondering if she might have seen him before…during the Mad King's War. But to his relief, she shrugged off whatever she'd been musing a moment later.

"Jerec?" she repeated, almost testing the name on her tongue. "I…think I've heard that name before. But I can't seem to figure out where."

"Hm… I'm not sure unless you might've heard from one or more of the employers that have hired me," Jerec interjected somewhat hurriedly, lest she remember him a very different context. "I'm a mercenary."

"Ah, yes, that was probably it. This town is a major exporter of foods of all kinds, and bandits are just as likely to steal beef and fish as anything else. People around here are always looking to hire mercenaries every now and then, particularly ones that have gained something of a reputation. Of course, that meant that Sir Ike and his group were in pretty high demand before he left."

"Oh yeah, I can believe it," Jerec replied, relieved for the change in topic and idly wondering if those porting beef had to throw in some of their cargo in order to purchase Ike's services. "I know the man myself and worked alongside him a couple times."

Though Melanie had shown an unmistakable aura of maturity in the brief time since they'd met, he could not help but be reminded of how young she must've been as she gaped in wonderment at his pronouncement.

"You have?" she asked, the words very nearly a whisper.

"Yeah," Jerec said, relieved to have redirected her questions but regretting the need to do so. "He was on a mission in Gallia, and he stumbled across me after I became infected. Like I said, I would've died otherwise. He's definitely an ally worth having."

"I can believe it! He's one of the most amazing men in this world. All the respect people have for him, it's well deserved."

"I'll say."

"Though…some of the ladies that fawn over him could tone it down a little. It's kind of ridiculous. Though it's still funny at the same time."

Melanie couldn't suppress a giggle at her words.

"Ha, I can agree there," Jerec affirmed, once more wondering if his meanderings might take him to Altarais once he'd seen to his family matters. "Ike always complained about how many women tried to get his attention, especially since he actually had a girlfriend already."

"He did?" Melanie wondered before realization struck. "…Oh yes, Queen Elincia, wasn't it? That was a reason she abdicated and departed as well. I thought she was just as amazing as Ike in her own right, especially since she was so young, had never been groomed to take the throne, and her parents left her with such a legacy. Even trying at all to finish their work must've taken a lot of courage, let alone trying as hard as she did."

Having met Elincia - and seeing just how much the young woman had gone through trying to bridge the gulf between beorc and laguz, only to see every step forward be accompanied by two steps backwards - Jerec shared the sentiment. He decided not to say so, however, as Melanie might find it hard to believe that he'd known Elincia as well.

Though, he had to admit, he certainly felt tempted to share quite a few secrets with this forthright and compassionate young woman.

"I know a lot of people were upset and disappointed when she left, claiming that she abandoned us, but I disagree," Melanie went on, and the lancer could hear conviction in her young voice. "I could understand why she had to leave. And like I said, it's amazing that she had been able to rule a kingdom when she had so much weighing on her heart and mind, with all that she'd been through during the wars. Not to mention what she went through in her time as queen, and her and Ike's love for one another nearly being destroyed by misunderstandings and conflict."

Here, she paused to offer Jerec a waterskin, which he promptly drained.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but she left behind a speech she wanted read to the people, in case she didn't return in six months. I was in attendance when it was read, and it was really moving. What she had to say about how much she loves her people and country, and her belief that passing the crown to her uncle was the best she could do for them after…well, everything. And King Renning is just as noble a man and ruler as his brother King Ramon before him. Even with everything that's going on, he's still committed to reaching out to the laguz and upholding the alliance with Gallia."

"Must've been quite a speech," Jerec opined. "Still, yes, I agree. And I'm glad to meet someone who knows and understands all of that. I've wandered quite a bit between the wars, and after, but I've dealt with far too many idiots that think ill of Elincia, and even Ike. Most of the time, you hear nothing but praise for the guy, but I've run into some real trash here and there who say he also abandoned this country in its time of need."

Reluctant though he was to lie to someone who had done him such a service and who he already respected, Jerec pointedly avoided mentioning just where "here and there" happened to be, as well as what they'd said before Ike left Tellius. Some part of him voiced the faint, guarded hope that she might not reproach him for his past, but the rest of him was simply too leery to heed that voice. Even if Melanie did not think ill of him being from Daein, suppose her family or neighbors overheard and felt...differently?

"He probably thought that the end of the Goddess War meant Tellius could have a fresh start, that we'd be able to move forward to a better future. Hell, we all thought that. Who could've have possibly predicted that every cutthroat and brigand who had an axe to swing would coming swarming out of the woodwork simply because he left? It's not like he could see the future or anything! And besides, he had his own problems. His fame was overwhelming him, he thought he'd lost Elincia."

Here, Jerec paused as his thoughts wended their way back to when he was a small boy and when his mother's death was still a fresh wound on his father's heart.

"That sort of heartbreak can crush the best of us. So, he did the only thing he could think of: leaving and starting anew."

"Wow… You must've known him better than you let on if you have such insight into what must've been going through his head," Melanie replied. "Still, I don't blame those who think unkindly of the two of them. At least, not entirely. You'd be amazed at the sort of things that will come out of someone's mouth when everything in their lives seems to be going wrong and they don't see a way out."

In truth, Jerec had become intimately familiar with what Melanie had described just prior to leaving Daein. But recalling why revealing that particular detail would not be wise, he simply nodded in agreement.

"Well, you're a lot more patient than I am," he admitted, glad he finally had a truth he could voice unreservedly. "Still, who knows? Some might change their minds once things calm down and they can think things through. Others, though… Even if they do know, I'm sure they wouldn't change their minds."

"Sigh… Sadly, that's probably true too."

Jerec massaged his sore shoulder as he also let out a sigh.

"So… I've been curious," he spoke up. "Why am I here instead of an infirmary? Not that I don't think you did a good job of helping me, I just thought that a healer would've brought me to an infirmary, especially if my injuries were so serious."

For a stretching second, Melanie regarded him with a puzzled expression, her brow furrowed as if his words hadn't made sense to her. Then, her eyes pulsed wide with realization and she let out a small laugh.

"Over praised, I'm afraid," she said, perplexing Jerec in turn. "Yes, I did heal you. But I'm not a healer."

"Wait, what?" the lancer blurted, though his throat chose this moment to protest the abuse he'd subjected it to. "You're not a healer? Well, you could've fooled me. You certainly must be talented if you were able to help me and that man on the trawler."

"Why, thank you. But to answer your question, I did try to bring you to the nearest infirmary, but so many people were wounded in the attack that they had no space left. Luckily, the kind nurses there gave me instructions and supplies so I could treat you myself. I took you to my home, and you know the rest. Of course, I had help carrying you."

Jerec's astonishment must've shown on his face, because Melanie's eyes darted away from his and a reddish tinge blossomed on her cheeks. Realizing he'd been gawking at her, he shook himself.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said, embarrassed. "But wow. So you're not a healer, but you were able to save me anyway. I'm impressed!"

"Oh, thank you!" Melanie replied, flashing a smile that coaxed one from Jerec in turn. "I didn't do it all on my own though. I had some help from my parents, not to mention a priest who's our neighbor. He left earlier to help other wounded in town."

"Heh, I see. Still, that infirmary could use someone of your talent."

Before Melanie could brush aside this latest compliment, there was a knock at the door behind them. Once Melanie gave her permission to enter, in came a stocky man with dirty blonde hair and brownish red eyes. He was followed by a slender woman whose eyes and hair were much akin to Melanie's. Both looked to be nearing their middle years, though as Jerec's vision continued to improve, he could make out a profession of lines beneath their eyes. Apparently, their last few years had been long ones.

"Ah, our guest has awakened. That's good to see," the man said in a warm, if weary tone, clapping a hand on Melanie's shoulder. "A fine job you did, darling!"

"Oh thank you, Father!" Melanie said with a smile. "I've been talking to him since he woke. His name is Jerec, and he's a mercenary. And he's fought alongside Sir Ike!"

"Really now?" the man said, raising an eyebrow and then, as if discovering some hidden wellspring of vitality in his core, letting out boisterous laugh. He might've clapped Jerec on the back if Melanie's glare hadn't brought him up short. "That's mighty impressive! It's no wonder you could take the wounds you had and live to tell of it. You must be quite a contender if you caught Sir Ike's eye."

"Heh, I suppose," Jerec replied, startled by the outburst, but a small smile dawning on his features as well.

"Jerec, these are my parents," Melanie introduced.

"Yep, name's Marv. My wife here is Fayna," the man confirmed with a nod.

"I see. Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances. And thanks for all of your help," Jerec said.

"No problem! You really needed it and we don't soon forget someone who helps us here in Rivertown."

Despite obviously having many cares weighing on him, Jerec could sense that Marv was earnest and trustworthy, much like his daughter. Marv's words caused a smile to tease at the corners of Jerec's mouth, but what came next promptly wiped it away.

"We don't soon forget those who've done us wrong either," Fayna added, her words hard edged by bitter frustration. "What we'd give for Sir Ike to return and put those bandits to flight like he did those filthy Daeins."

Though he was well practiced in letting words like those pass without getting a rise out of him, that had been when the lancer was on his feet and could disappear into the shadows as he'd often done when he sensed too many suspicious eyes upon him. In his bedridden state, it took all of Jerec's willpower not to cringe or sweat.

Just my luck, he grumbled in his mind.

Fayna was obviously a hot blooded woman and, though Jerec had hoped Marv might have the cooler head between them, that hope was short lived.

"Ah, yes," he grumbled, one meaty hand tightening into a fist. "If they ever show their faces here again, I hope those mercenaries chop that scum into fish bait."

Jerec eyed Marv's huge frame and found himself concluding that, if it leaked out just where Jerec had come from, Marv could probably handle the chopping on his own.

"It was awful what Daein did to us those years ago," Melanie explained somberly, and Jerec could swear he felt his heart sink at her words.

He was at a loss to explain why her words had had such an effect on him. After all, the sentiments she and her family had expressed were the sort he'd heard every day since the Mad King's War and compared to some of the vitriol he'd heard, her words were downright civilized. So why did his heart skip a beat when she'd echoed her parents' sentiments? And, for that matter, why did he not truly believe she had?

"You might not know this, Jerec, as there was so much chaos during the first days of the Mad King's War," Melanie went on, her sober tone tugging at the lancer's heartstrings. "Just before their attack on Melior, my uncles, my father's three brothers and their families, had gathered up in the city. They were all merchants, craftsmen, herbalists, and porters. King Ramon was finalizing a trade agreement with Gallia. Some of the family shared the late king's beliefs, others just felt there was no point in passing up a chance to earn some honest coin, so they were going to offer their services. When the Daein army took the city, they were turned in by collaborators and executed."

Catching sight of how Marv's broad chest began to heave at this telling, Jerec was conscious of the gravity of this revelation. It put Marv's hostility towards Daein in a different light. A pointed one too, as Jerec's short-lived feud with Ike had been over the latter slaying his father in the retaking of Melior. More than the horror and anger - not just at Ike, but at himself for being entombed beneath Nados when he might've freed himself sooner and prevailed upon his father to surrender rather than fight to the death - there had also been the belief that the guilty party was still alive and was out of reach.

Granted, after meeting Ike and seeing his courage and honor, Jerec's disdain had been extinguished, but Marv likely would want no reconciliation and judging by his restrained anger, even the bittersweet closure of revenge had proven elusive. Perhaps he never knew just who had exposed his brothers and their families? Maybe whichever soldiers who'd carried out the executions yet lived, and were out of reach now that the wars were over? Either way, though Jerec felt for the older man, he was not about to risk Marv deciding that the invalid Daein in his house likely deserved a blade through the gut as much as any other.

"Our home was damaged in a battle as well," Melanie went on, and Jerec was only too happy that his grim reverie had been interrupted. "We were lucky to have been away at the time. With everything that's happened since then, however, it'll be a while before we're done picking up the pieces."

Her words had caught Jerec off guard, as the house had looked quite well kept aside from the occasional soot stains, likely caused by smoke blowing in from the fires set by the bandits. However, as he looked more carefully, he noticed that there were indeed subtle signs that this home had seen some rough days. There was the brick fireplace he'd noticed earlier, and he realized that the slight disparity in the colors suggested that some of the bricks were added in more recently than others, and that some of the newer ones were of lesser quality. Not only that, but, though much of the floor was lacquered wood, it was dotted with squares where, instead, there were carpets of fragrant rushes or rugs which, Jerec suspected, covered bare dirt rather than a floor.

Improvised weapons and firewood, he surmised. Just as likely to be looted as valuables during a bandit raid...or an invasion.

Though he hid it behind a mask of stoicism, the implication that his former homeland had played a role in this family's ongoing misfortunes touched a nerve in Jerec.

He knew he had not been directly responsible, for the path his unit had followed to the gates of Melior had been well away from this town, but seeing the lingering scars had driven home the sad truth that, in spite of what he'd since done for Crimea as a mercenary, there was still a gulf between him and his would-be countrymen.

Would Shea or Blake accept him if his past leaked out? For that matter, would Melanie and her family? Jerec doubted it, and he'd accepted that his past would make it impossible to let anyone in closer than arm's length. Of this, Jerec had long been certain…

…which is why his lower jaw nearly dropped to the floor at Melanie's next words.

"Though… I don't want to believe that all Daeins are evil," she admitted, and Jerec could sense much gravity behind the admission. "I believe the ones that attacked us will get what they deserve, if they haven't already, but I could never bring myself to believe every last Daein was like that. How could I when I'd believed for years that the laguz were not monsters and have since learned that I was right?"

Like all poignant rhetorical questions, that one left her small audience at a loss as to how to answer. Jerec in particular was stunned since, outside of the Greil Mercenaries and Elincia, he had never heard a Crimean willing to give a Daein the benefit of the doubt. Even though Ramon and Elincia's work to unite the beorc and the laguz was moving forward under Renning's rule, other wounds would likely take longer to heal.

Jerec had resigned himself to this, but, after wandering a world of silence and loneliness following his brush with death, he found his distaste towards this sad truth growing by the moment.

And having heard someone who was willing to give people like him the benefit of the doubt - someone who had lost kin to Daein, no less - made him wonder at his life as an exile. In the dream, Rose Thorn had implied that things would change. Maybe that would happen soon? In fact, maybe it was happening right now?

He was shaken from his reverie when Fayna spoke and, even before his eyes found hers, he sensed that she neither shared nor approved of her daughter's sentiments.

"Honey, I know you don't want to hear this," Fayna prefaced, her tone taking on a note of regret. "But, I don't see how that's possible. We buried most of our family after Daein invaded us, and there's no telling how many others had to bury loved ones too. I just…I know you're the sort who will try to find the better part of others, but…I'm just not like that. These days, I'm always wondering just who I can trust."

"Yes, I know. But, what's the point of wondering if you're too afraid to find out?"

It might've been Jerec's imagination, but he could've sworn he felt Rose Thorn at his shoulder, reiterating her belief that his lonely life was soon to take a turn. Still, Jerec could not help the persistent supposition that, even if Melanie's parents could respect their daughter's convictions, they neither approved of nor shared them.

"Oh, Melanie, don't you and Raphael have a date tonight? You'd best be meeting up with him," Marv interjected, sounding only too happy to change the subject.

"Ah, of course…" Melanie remembered, though strangely, she didn't seem entirely thrilled. "But Father, I think it might be best if he and I went out another time."

"Nonsense! You've been working yourself to the bone since the bandit attack and You've saved at least two lives today. You deserve a chance to enjoy yourself!"

Neither Marv nor Fayna noticed, as Melanie had glanced away from them, but Jerec saw one corner of her lip vanish between her teeth and a hint of anxiety cross her features, almost as though her father's insistence distressed her for some reason.

"Father, I just spent half the morning tending to Jerec and pulling arrows out of our neighbor's knee," she pointed out. "And, that was after watching whole swaths of the town get burned down. I'm…I just don't think this is the time for a date."

At this, Marv's expression softened and, seating himself near his daughter, he laid a brawny hand on her shoulder.

"And, that's exactly why you should go," he said. "In times like these, every chance you get to spend with the people you care for might be the last. That's why I never head out the door without telling you and your mother that I love you. I want that to be the last thing I say to either of you just in case…well, just in case."

Though none of the small family noticed, Jerec could not help a discreet nod of approval. The older man's sentiments, about just how precious time spent with loved ones was, had struck a chord. Especially since Jerec's own father, Bryce, was surely aware of the depths of that truth when he fell in love with the frail but kindly woman who he'd later marry. Not unlike Marv, Bryce had been well aware that he could easily come home one day to find that his wife was gone, and so he'd made sure to spend as much time with her as he could, just in case anyone happy memory between them proved to be the last.

This, however, also served to remind Jerec that, although he felt a burgeoning respect for this family, that did not change the fact that he could not let them in, not even to share his appreciation for Marv's words, lest he end up testing the older man's theory that Daeins made good fish bait.

Still, Jerec appreciated the older man's heartfelt words…except it seemed that Melanie didn't.

Oh, she smiled and said she saw his point, but her smile looked forced to the lancer's eyes. It almost seemed as if she truly didn't want to see this Raphael, not even to inject some joy into what had otherwise been a hard and harsh day.

You're reading too much into it, his inner voice, the one that typically reminded him that a single careless word could mean his death, admonished. Maybe she's not the romantic type, or maybe she's just not in the mood after sewing your wounds together. Besides, you need to leave once you're well again anyway.

The lancer had to admit, that was the truth. He watched as Marv and Fayna bustled their daughter off to prepare for her date, reflecting that they'd seemed nice enough, and yet they clearly had good cause to hate Daein after losing many of their kin to Ashnard's army. Jerec could understand, and even empathize, for he'd blamed Ike for the death of his father. If not for the two of them fighting alongside each other during the battle against Arius - a one in a million circumstance if ever there was one - he likely would still feel that anger and the past few years of his life would've unfolded very differently. But, that hardly mattered. Despite their harsher sentiments, they seemed decent enough, and Melanie was too kind for him to ever want her to get caught up in his problems.

"Well, you have a good time, Mel honey," Fayna said, hugging her daughter. "And Jerec, now that you're a little better, we'll help you into the spare bedroom at the top of the stairs. You just settle in and get a good rest. Once we see Melanie off, Marv and I will still need to go help our neighbors, but we'll be close by if you need anything."

"Alright, thanks," Jerec replied.

I guess I was wrong," he mused as he was helped up the stairs to his new lodgings. An angel did come for me after all.

Between his latest brush with death, the many surprises he'd had from his unlikely benefactors, and the knowledge that his mission yet lay before him, the lancer was thoroughly exhausted, and yet his thoughts were awhirl. Had he been calmer, or less weary, he might've found himself pondering the wisdom of having such a provocative musing towards another man's woman.

Anyone who had even a passing acquaintance with Jerec knew him to be a notoriously heavy sleeper. And, more than a few of those people would remark that rousing him was a most unenviable task. Yet, Jerec found himself uncharacteristically restless after Melanie and her family had departed. Perhaps the feel of a mattress beneath him had become foreign after so many days and weeks spent sleeping upon the turf, or maybe his head was too full of thoughts about his pending journey for him to relax.

Whatever the reason, after half an hour spent staring at the ceiling in hopes of being bored into slumber, he was startled when he heard the front door open. Perplexed, he rose to a sitting position, just in time to see Melanie crossing the hallway beyond his door.

"What are you doing back so soon?" he wondered, despite his better judgment telling him it wasn't his business.

Melanie gave a little gasp and jumped, whirling in his direction. Seeing her stricken expression, and fearing it might mean she'd spotted more bandits skulking about, he was half out of his bed and searching for his lance when she raced over and pushed him back down onto the mattress.

"How many?" he whispered urgently. "Are they from the same band as before?"

"What?" she asked, before realization struck. "Oh! No, there's no bandits. I…just…"

Her eyes darted away from his and her normally smiling lips turned downwards in an expression which betrayed deep conflict and no small amount of distress.

"What's wrong?" the lancer asked, concerned. "Did your date with your boyfriend not go well?"

"Well, actually…" Melanie faltered, then she drew in a deep breath and seemed to come to a difficult decision. "Can you keep a secret?"

"That's something I'm good at," Jerec reassured.

You'd be amazed how many I'm keeping from you right now, he mused, once more hating that grim necessity.

"Raphael is my…fiancé," Melanie began, though whatever she was going to say, she'd wanted to get it off of her chest for some time. "He was the one that helped me carry you here."

"I see. But…why would you leave your date with him so soon?"

"Actually, I didn't leave my date, I never went in the first place. I just checked in on the other wounded in the infirmary and then doubled back here. I knew my parents would be gone, and I expected you to be asleep when I got back."

"I don't understand. Why would you avoid going on a date with your fiancé?"

"Well… The truth is, we've technically been engaged since we were little," Melanie explained. "Our parents arranged our betrothal practically from the cradle. I grew up with Raphael as a result, and he's a good man, but… I just couldn't see him the way our parents or he wanted me to. I think he felt like more like a brother to me. I just...cannot see him as a potential lover, let alone a husband. So, sometimes, I make excuses to spare my parents' feelings. I was planning to tell my parents that I couldn't get to him because the roads were blocked with rubble, or that I found another wounded man who needed my help."

"I see. But, why go to all that trouble? If you don't love him, then why not just tell him? I mean, you can't keep this up forever. Besides, your parents seem like decent enough people. They might understand if you want to break off the engagement."

"What I'd give for it to be that easy. I never told anyone how I really feel, because I don't want to hurt my parents, or Raphael. He does genuinely love me."

She trailed off there, a heavy sigh passing her lips. Though the lancer knew he might be inviting trouble if he interfered, and that he was hardly within his rights to do so in the first place, he still found his heart aching at the younger woman's predicament.

Though she still had at least some of her family, and many other people who cared for her, she was also burdened with their expectations, including that she marry a man she did not love, and the looming specter of disappointment if she gave voice to the truth.

In a manner of speaking, she was even more alone than he.

"Oh. I understand," Jerec replied, almost wanting to admit just how deeply he understood. "That sounds like a hard situation."

"I suppose it could be worse," she admitted, though she sounded far from convinced. "He treats me well enough. Sometimes, he can be very sweet."

"But other times?" Jerec asked, already nursing ill thoughts about her answer.

"He can be somewhat… paranoid, and a bit controlling. He's always worried about how I interact with other men, even his own friends. There was this one time I visited his best friend, Erwin, the blacksmith's apprentice. He was laid up with a broken leg and, since he wasn't well enough to walk, even with a crutch, I lent a hand with the shopping and cooking. I didn't tell Raphael, since I saw no reason to; but, when he found out, he just about hit the ceiling. After that, he told me to ask his permission to spend time with his friends or any other men I meet."

Jerec managed to keep his incredulity from showing on his face. Barely.

More than that, however, he found himself wondering if Melanie's problems with her betrothed might worsen if she went through with the planned marriage. After all, if the notion of her helping a friend of his - who was bedridden, no less - sent him into such a frenzy, what else might? For that matter, could these incidents grow worse?

And this is your business how? the voice of survival asked cynically.

Admittedly, it wasn't. But, right then, he didn't care. It was Melanie's decision how to deal with Raphael; but, right now, it was clear that she needed a friend. Jerec owed her that much.

"So, you haven't you told this to Raphael, or your parents?" he asked, and Melanie nodded gravely. "I don't mean to pry, but why not? It sounds like Raphael's paranoia is bothering you. Don't you think he might try to be less controlling if you told him?"

"It's possible," she said, but Jerec sensed she was deflecting the idea rather than considering it. "But I really don't want to break his heart or upset my parents. My parents also can be…kind of strict. They're obsessed with family traditions and are a little overprotective. It's often said that stubbornness is Rivertown's leading commodity."

"How so?"

Before answering, Melanie swept over to the room's window and opened it, getting a face full of dust which bespoke that guests had been a rare event in this household since the recent troubles…especially since much of her extended family had been hanged by Ashnard.

"You'll be able to see it from here once you're better, but the river Everfrost is out there," she said. "It's our lifeblood. You can get from one end of town to the other on the water faster than by walking, most of the fish we catch are in there, the trawlers that fish on the sea use it to get to open water and back, and it turns the grindstones that we use to turn wheat into flour. You name it, the Everfrost gives it to us."

Here, she paused and her voice took on a tone of philosophical melancholy.

"But, it also takes some back as well. Every few months, during the rainy season, the river floods. The water rises up, spills into the streets, and smashes right through the buildings closest to the water, and sometimes those further back too. After that's done, all you can do is survey the damage, pick up the pieces, and get back to work."

Melanie paused to heave a sigh that sounded sad, almost fatalistic, and Jerec could swear he felt his eyes sting at the sound.

"That stubbornness is why this place is still standing and why the people are still here," she went on. "Neither would be without that stubbornness."

"But, it has its consequences," Jerec spoke up before he could think better of it.

"People too stubborn to quit always pull through because they never give up," Melanie affirmed, though there was little joy in her tone. "Of course, that means they almost never change their minds either. The people here did come around to support the late King Ramon's mission to build a peace with the laguz, but they weren't exactly the first in line. Still, they listened when it counted, and that took a lot of courage."

"It sounds like you have a lot of respect for your community, in spite of…everything."

"Yes. It's hard not to when you watch one of your neighbors come within a hairsbreadth of drowning one day and then see him putting his house back in order the next. My parents are the same way, as is Raphael and his family. I just…wish I knew how to tell them the truth."

"Hm… Yeah, I can see why you're so conflicted. I wish I could help, especially after what you did for me. I still think talking to them might help. You did say they've listened when it counted before, right?"

"You're kind," Melanie complimented with a smile as she turned to face Jerec.

At that moment, Jerec belatedly realized that, although Melanie had had no intention of going on her "date," that hadn't stopped her from dressing the part.

She looked ravishing.

Melanie had donned a magenta gown that reached her ankles, while the ribbons she'd worn earlier had been replaced with silver barrettes festooned with rhinestones that glittered in the sunlight. The dress a far cry from the stately court gown of woven dusk that Elincia had worn sporadically since becoming queen, and the only makeup Melanie wore was a distinctly modest lipstick and blush. And yet nonetheless, Jerec felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her.

His likening her to an angel sprang to mind again, and this time he was quite aware that he was nursing some rather troubling thoughts about another man's woman…

…not the least of which being the question of why that particular fact stung him.

"…Wow, you look amazing," Jerec choked out with a smile. He had honestly never seen a woman dressed up for a formal occasion before. Though he'd seen Elincia host a few galas while she was queen, where she'd made a point of hiring him to act as additional security, she'd been past the point of wearing a pretty dress and accessories.

Melanie's dress was quite modest compared to Elincia's court gown, and yet Jerec could feel his pulse quicken and his throat tighten as he took in her appearance.

"Oh, thank you!" Melanie replied with a smile, her eyes darting away shyly.

Jerec felt his cheeks growing hot, especially as he belatedly discovered that he was wearing little more than his bandages. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her, but saw that his armor and the clothing he wore beneath were well out of reach. Perspiring slightly, he tried, urgently, to redirect his attention, but the little used guest room was too featureless to distract him from the lovely young woman who hovered above.

Luckily, his stomach chose that moment to remind him that the battle of Rivertown, not to mention how long it had taken him to be roused to answer the alarm, had interfered with his breakfast plans.

"Sounds like you're hungry," Melanie pointed out, snickering. "I'll see if I can whip up a meal for you."

With that, Melanie left the room and, sagging, Jerec tried to remind himself that, even if Raphael had a ways to go before he truly deserved her, Melanie was another man's woman.

He tried to, but he suspected he wasn't succeeding.

After Melanie left the room, leaving Jerec to try and tame the redness in his cheeks, the lancer struggled to force air past the lump in his throat. By this point, the voice of caution was railing at him for getting too close to the angel who'd swept in to save his life...and his persistence in using that moniker.

Did losing all that blood cause some of your brains to die?! his inner voice screeched. You're risking exposure by staying here at all, and you're sitting there weighing in on her relationship with her fiancé?!

"Shut up," he replied, to himself, no less. "He's not treating her right, and she just needed someone to talk to."

Oh, yes! You in bed, half naked, and she hovering above you looking...how did you put it? Oh yes, angelic. I bet you wouldn't mind finding out of that angel had a naughty side, eh?

"I said shut up!" Jerec hissed. "She just…needed a friend."

A friend who can't say a word about where he's from? A friend who carried the same banner as the men who hanged most of her family? A friend who she will likely never see again? Yeah, you are quite the boon companion!

The lancer struggled for an answer, but all that passed his lips was a frustrated growl as the terrible truth sank in. He honestly wasn't sure why Melanie provoked such a reaction in him, but he remembered all too clearly the feeling of his heart racing at the sight of her, his incredulity at Raphael's treatment, and his downright provocative habit of likening her to an angel. He knew not what it was about her that got such a rise out of him, he knew only that it was real, and that it was powerful.

And that it was dangerous.

His own secrets were volatile enough, but he had quite a few bad premonitions about just how much worse his situation would get if it was somehow revealed that he felt such an…attraction to another man's woman. Even in a community that wouldn't happily chop a Daein into fish bait, he knew it would be ugly.

So, why was that particular logic drowned out by the recollection of how unhappy Melanie was in her engagement?

Jerec's life, already complicated, had grown even more knotty and tangled.

He sighed in frustration as he took another look around the room, desperately searching for something to quiet the many thoughts buzzing around in his head. Thinking was really all he could do as he lay there, unable to so much as get up and walk around due to his injuries. When would the Greil Mercenaries be in to see him? He'd half expected them to have dropped in while he was trying to will himself to sleep, which would've been quite ironic to Rolf and Mist after their disastrous wakeup call that morning. Would Titania and the others say he had been too reckless in charging off to fight those bandits alone? Titania probably would, and Shinon most certainly would add his customary sneer to the deputy commander's stern reprimand.

And they would probably be right. Jerec had been in over his head, and Shinon had even warned him of that. But after learning that his actions, however reckless, had saved the lives of two parents, he was hardly in the mood for being scolded.

Despite that, however, he very much wanted to spend some time with the mercenaries when he was able to leave, even if was to let them know he was alright. His near-death experience and his disquieting interactions with Melanie, had driven home just how lonely he'd been since the hunt for Ettard and, even though he knew he had to be back on the road soon, he was eager to spend what time he could with the closest people he had to true friends in Crimea. He'd had too much weighing on his mind after what he'd found out from Tauroneo's letter and, though he was no less determined to find his lost half-sibling, he did not relish the prospect of being alone once more on the long, lonely road to Daein.

He had thought himself inured to his solitude, but he'd been shocked at just how greatly mistaken he was.

Edited by Anacybele
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And here's part 4!

Part 4: A Different Adversary

After several moments of frustrated searching, more inwardly than out, Jerec noticed there was a bookshelf behind him, more than two of its shelves filled with books. Some of them looked to be works of fiction, sporting florid titles which suggested they'd be thrilling stories while others appeared to be reference books. One of the latter, a book about local wildlife, caught Jerec's attention. He carefully rose to a sitting position and sidled over to reach the book and take a look at it. The book contained a veritable treatise on the many animals who called this region of Crimea home. Since the town straddled a river, and was not far from the sea, the book contained pictures of a great many types of fish and seabirds, as well as such creatures as boars, deer, and foxes. Each of these animals was depicted with an illustration, painted so realistically that, when Jerec got to the chapter about bears, he had to force away the instinct to collapse and play dead.

Apart from the chapter on wolves, which brought back more than a few bad memories of the battle against Arius, the lancer skimmed through much of the book, searching for a particular animal he had been really fond of since he was a small boy. And surely neither Melanie nor her parents would mind if he read it. He was bored just lying around in bandages. And he would put it back when he was finished.

Jerec lay back down with the book and opened it to the section he was interested in.

"There you are!" he said to himself, a nostalgic smile finally crossing his face as he gently traced a finger over the illustration's button nose and long ears. "Gotta do something to kill the time when I can't leave this bed. Ow…"

Ever since he'd seen one scamper by his childhood home one day, Jerec had been fond of these long-eared, hopping animals. Since that date coincided with the anniversary of his mother's death, was also his birthday since the cause of her death had been his birth, and his father had been deep in the throes of depression, Jerec had never forgotten how the sight of the frolicking rabbit had made him smile.

At times, not much else could.

Still, Jerec never mentioned this to anyone. Closemouthed he might be about his past, but he had managed to build a reputation as a mercenary of excellent caliber. He rather doubted that a fondness for fluffy little bunnies would help his image, either amongst his clients or his enemies, which was why not even the Greil Mercenaries knew of this little detail about him.

Regardless, between his latest brush with death, his impending journey to Daein, and the disconcerting effect Melanie had on him, he was eager to turn his attention to something that would calm his roiling thoughts. He read for the next several minutes until the room's door gently opened again. Melanie had finished preparing for her date. When Jerec looked up at her, his eyebrows rose. Melanie stood in the doorway, a tray of roast chicken with a side of fruit, balanced in one finely boned hand. Jerec couldn't help but notice that she hadn't changed out of her magenta gown, which caused that familiar tightness in his throat to return. He also saw that her eyebrows rose when she noticed the book.

"Ah, that one's an old favorite of mine," she mused aloud. I know it nearly by heart. My mother loves animals and makes a living taking care of them. Our neighbors' pets, plough horses, and so on. That book was one of her favorites, so she gave it to me when she got an extra copy for her birthday."

"…Oh, er, yeah," Jerec replied, unable to keep a quaver from his voice. "I hope you don't mind, I just got so bored laying here."

"Oh, not at all. I understand, I would get bored too if I had to lay in bed all day. My parents won't mind either. For now, you can just stack the books on the nightstand. You can put them back once you're well enough to walk."

"Thanks. And I'll try not to make a mess."

Nodding her appreciation, Melanie approached with the tray. Drawing near and bending over to set it at the foot of the bed, Jerec suddenly became painfully aware of her dress's plunging neckline…and the enticing view it offered of her well-developed chest.

His hunger well and truly forgotten, he wrenched his gaze elsewhere, only to wind up rediscovering how lovely Melanie's eyes were.

Belatedly realizing that she'd been trying to talk to him, and he hadn't been able to hear her over the blood thundering in his ears, he asked her to repeat herself in a voice nearly strangled to a croak.

"I said you must be fond of animals to have read so much of that book so quickly," Melanie repeated, her infinite patience making Jerec cringe at his own foolishness. "Do you have a favorite?"

Trying not to blanch at the question, Jerec gave a nod and answered.

"Yeah, you could say that. I mean, I would definitely try to help an animal if I saw one that was injured or something. As for a favorite…well…"

Suddenly reminded of why his favorite animal had been yet another of his many secrets, Jerec had been about to deflect the question. Perhaps he might distract her with a somewhat revised anecdote of the fight against Arius, and how this had given him a wary respect towards wolves. But, aside from suspecting she'd likely see through the ploy, he found himself reluctant to lie to her…at least any more than he already had.

Besides, Melanie seemed quite different from the redoubtable, but obstinate people of Rivertown. Apart from her patience and her willingness to see the better part of others, even those who'd done her wrong, he also sensed that she was a kindly and understanding soul who was not in the habit of passing harsh judgments.

Though he'd only known her a short time, and though she still seemed to tie his senses in knots, Jerec trusted Melanie.

"What's the matter?" she wondered as his introspect dragged on. "It's alright if you don't want to tell me or if you don't have a favorite."

"Oh, it's not that," the lancer said, unable to keep a nervous undertone from his words. "I actually do have a favorite. It's just… Well…"

There weren't many people that Jerec could trust, fully trust, in Crimea. There were the Greil Mercenaries, of course, and he'd sensed more than once that Shea and Blake saw him more as a friend than a regular. And yet, there were so few people he could be truly open with. His decision to leave Daein after learning the truth about Ike and the laguz had burned quite a few bridges back in his former homeland, and Daein's inexplicably siding with Begnion in the Goddess War had left him most disinclined to reconnect with his former countrymen. Yet, he'd also realized that his life as a veritable hermit was wearing on him.

Maybe it was time to take a gamble, see if there were people he could truly trust.

Habitually bracing himself for the worst, he turned the book around so Melanie could see the pages, his face going a deep pink.

"…Aww! That's so cute! You like rabbits that much?" she commented.

"…Er…yeah," Jerec admitted, unable to hide his surprise. "I'll be honest, that's not something I admit to readily. A big tough mercenary, who pretty much makes his living killing thugs, having a soft spot for rabbits? Still, I remember, back when I was little and the anniversary of my mother's death had me feeling down, that seeing one of these scampering about had helped me feel a little better."

"I know what you mean. I remember the first time I saw a deer. Those spreading antlers made it look so regal, like a king of the forest. Once, when I was a teenager and my family and Raphael's were getting together, my father said he was going to hunt one so we could have venison for dinner. I argued with him, and I must've gotten him riled up pretty badly, because he told me that if I wanted to have something else that badly, I could get it myself. So, I grabbed Raphael and we went out and brought back a boar."

"Er…isn't hunting boar dangerous? I've heard that those things can kill people by goring them with their tusks."

"Goes a long way towards explaining why we were grounded for two weeks before we even got back to town, eh? Still, you never forgot how the sight of a rabbit brightened up a sad day, just like I never forgot how beautiful that deer was. Memory is a powerful thing."

"Heh. Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks."

"Oh, of course!"

Even though Jerec could barely guess how horrorstricken Melanie's parents must've been when their daughter had dragged in the carcass of an animal that could've easily killed her, he couldn't help but snicker at the image. More than that, however, he found himself impressed by Melanie's grit and gumption. He'd known more than a few grown men who'd have been terrified of that boar's wild eyes and sharp, glinting tusks.

Impressed with Melanie in spite of how easily her story could've taken a tragic turn, Jerec couldn't help but feel a wide grin cross his features as he dug into his meal.

He was jolted back to the present, however, when a knock was heard at the front door. Judging by Melanie's perplexed expression, it was much too soon for her parents to be returning home and she wasn't expecting any visitors. Before Jerec could ask, she darted from the room and, barely a heartbeat later, returned.

A sigh passed her lips and a rather dejected look was on her face, which allowed Jerec to guess who was at the door easily enough.

Raphael, apparently, wasn't the sort to give up easily.

"…You really don't want to date this fiancé of yours, do you?" Jerec guessed.

"…No, I suppose not," Melanie admitted. "Raphael had planned to take me to this show, at the amphitheater near town. Probably something romantic, and I imagine the venue has plenty of shadowy corners which young couples could vanish into for a little…privacy."

Despite her oblique words, the lancer knew all too well just what sorts of things could happen between amorous pairs in dark places. Ike and Elincia had stolen into more than a few in the time he had spent with them, likely inspiring much hand wringing on the part of both Titania and Lucia, since Elincia had still been queen at the time.

Even though he'd been all too aware of the harm that might be done if Ike and Elinicia took things too far, the lancer had enjoyed their amorous shenanigans. But, even if Raphael truly did love Melanie, the image of him lavishing her with kisses while she wore a painted smile caused a leaden knot to form in his stomach.

"The amphitheater's open?" he said, with no small amount of disbelief. "After what happened?"

"Old Rivertown's motto; "life comes at you with slings and arrows, and all you can do is keep a straight back and move on." He told me the show's been delayed an hour, and we can still make it. It's tempting, after such a hard day, but…I already told you what he must have in mind. And, like I said, I don't love him in that way."

Here, she paused and seated herself on the bed, rubbing at her temples as though trying to massage away a pounding in her skull. Though Jerec's inner voice was quick to protest, he reached out and took her hand. Although startled by the gesture, nearly as much as Jerec himself was, she turned to him and smiled.

"And, truth be told, I enjoy talking to you!" she said emphatically. "I'd rather sit here and talk some more."

"…I think I know just what you mean," Jerec replied, a smile spreading across his features as well. "It's been a long time since I've had someone I could really talk to. I have some friends, but not many, and I'm always coming and going since I spend so much time on the road, traveling from job to job."

Here, Jerec paused and a hint of irony touched his smile.

"Funny, a few hours ago, I would've envied you. Having a home and people waiting for you to come back every night."

"I can understand that," Melanie admitted. "As much as I love this place, I don't want to live my whole life here. But, I don't really have a choice. Between helping my parents and going out with Raphael, not to mention what I did for you this morning, I don't even have a real job yet. And, even if I did, with all these troubles, my parents are insistent that I should get a husband so I have someone to "take care of me.""

From what Jerec had seen this morning, and elsewhere in Crimea, he could understand why Marv and Fayna wanted someone they trusted at Melanie's side, as Marv himself had put it, "just in case."

But, even if it was based on a misconception, the lancer's ire rose at the knowledge that Melanie was being shoved into a marriage with a man she did not love.

I've said it before and I'm saying it again, this isn't your business! the lancer's inner voice warned, and Jerec was all too aware that he was risking exposure.

What if, in the heat of the moment, he let slip some detail that exposed him? And yet, seeing Melanie's disconsolate expression, he found that secrecy had begun to matter less and less to him.

Melanie, like himself, was trapped in a situation where she had to, literally, live a lie. And, he was uniquely aware of how harsh a captivity one might spend in a cage wrought of falsehoods.

"Listen," he began, though he sensed that he was diving into some very deep water. "I know it's not my business, and it's understandable that your parents to want you to be taken care of. But I know there are some women can fend for themselves until the right guy comes along. And like I said, it wouldn't be hard for you to find work. You saving me and that fisherman, with just a handful of bandages and a few minutes of training? I say again, that infirmary could use someone of your talents."

"You really think so?" Melanie said, as though she hadn't considered the notion.

"Yes, I do. I know you'd need more training, but if you could pick up on what you needed so quickly, it should be a snap."

"Exactly, I'm not an idiot. I feel like my parents think so sometimes though, even if they don't mean that."

"If nothing else, I certainly don't believe that," an unfamiliar male voice spoke up. Jerec and Melanie whirled to see a brown-haired man, nearly Jerec's height, climbing the stairs.

"If anything, Melanie's wits are her best trait. I apologize for the interruption, but the heatedness of this…conversation started to worry me, so I let myself in."

The man, presumably Raphael, held up what, Jerec suspected, was a copy of the key to Melanie's house…and Jerec's list of ill presentiments about this man grew quite a bit longer at the realization that he had free access to his "fiancée's" home. As he drew closer, Jerec could see that he was very well dressed. Beneath an opera cape secured by woven rope the color of gold, the lancer spied a white tunic with ruffled sleeves and an elegant cravat, as well as silken trousers that vanished into black leather boots. A plumed tricorne hat rounded out the - in Jerec's opinion, ridiculous - ensemble, and conveyed that Raphael was a man with both a flair for the dramatic and no small amount of money.

Neither of these discoveries were reassuring.

"Oh, and I see that man we helped earlier is awake. Glad to see you're recovering," the man continued. "I will confess to having been skeptical when my sweetling said she could save you. I should know better than that, eh?"

"Oh, thanks," Jerec replied, nonplussed. "You must be Raphael."

"Ah, Melanie's told you about me then? Yes, I am he. And I dare say, I am the luckiest man in all of Rivertown to have her as my fiancée."

"Have her?" "My?" I don't like the sound of the inflection he's using.

Rather than saying so, Jerec simply replied, "Yes, she told me."

"Hello, Raphael," Melanie greeted with, Jerec suspected, a well-practiced imitation of a smile. "This is Jerec. He's a mercenary that's actually met and worked with Sir Ike himself!"

"Really now? That's quite amazing. I hear Sir Ike is quite a discerning man, not the sort to work with just anyone. Or for just anyone, for that matter."

To the lancer's ears, that almost sounded like a backhanded way of expressing skepticism regarding Jerec's story, but he let it drop. After all, there had been days Jerec found that hard to believe.

"Yeah, he kind of is," Jerec agreed in a neutral tone. "He has his reasons, though."

"I suppose. Though for my part? If I earn some money, I earn some money, no questions asked. You have to make a living, somehow."

If Jerec hadn't been leery of Raphael before, he was now.

"True enough," he admitted, once more forcing his tone into bland politeness. "But, for me? If I don't like what a client wants me to do, I turn them down. My lance may be for sale, but my conscience isn't."

"I imagine your principles are applauded in many circles," Raphael returned, and Jerec had a feeling that Raphael occupied none of those "circles." "Thankfully, mine have yet to prove a nuisance. Well, Melanie and I ought to be going now. Can't have her sitting in here all evening. She could become too attached to you! Ha ha ha."

"Ha ha ha…" Jerec echoed sarcastically. Did this guy really just go there?

"Oh, relax, I was just having a little fun. Well, you should be fine while we're gone. See you later!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can to check on you, Jerec, alright?" Melanie promised, thankfully ignoring Raphael's jibe.

"Of course, and thank you again for your help," Jerec replied, though Raphael's covetous expression had him longing to say a great deal more.

once again as he wrestled with his ever worsening presentiments about Raphael. Even though he'd only just met the man and had barely exchanged a dozen words with him, he now had a clear and grim picture of why Melanie was less-than-enthused with the prospect of marrying him.

I swear, he talks about her like she's a prize mare rather than a woman! he inwardly fumed. And that spiel he gave earlier? Father always did say that "when a man says he rarely wrestles with his conscience, it usually means he doesn't have one."

Despite nursing more than a few troubling thoughts about Raphael and Melanie, exhaustion eventually won out, and Jerec was out like a candle by the time the pair returned. He had tried to stay up, suspecting that Melanie would return from her date, at best, still unimpressed by her would-be husband. But between his eyelids growing heavy from lying in bed and reading for as long as he had, and in spite of his still aching wounds, the most he saw of Melanie before the dawn was a hazy impression of her chuckling quietly and tucking him in.

As the next day dawned, Jerec felt much better. Though he'd recovered enough to at least rise from the bed and move about, Melanie had insisted that he rest as much as possible. The lancer, however, made no objections, as Melanie made sure to check on him often. During one such visit, she brought him a letter from Titania. She relayed that the Greil Mercenaries had received another call for help and they had to leave. Titania, along with Rolf and Mist, wished Jerec luck on his mission and added that, between their fewer numbers and Ike's departure having emboldened those villains who'd normally run and hide at the sight of the Greil Mercenaries, they'd be delighted to have him join up.

The notion was tempting, but Jerec found his mind much too crowded already.

Melanie's parents also came in on occasion to see if he needed anything and, despite his dislike of Melanie's betrothal, he sensed both were anxious to do right by their daughter, especially in such dangerous time. He still did not like it, but he could understand it, and he more than once found himself wondering if he'd make the same mistake in their position. Marv even echoed Raphael's amazement at how Melanie had been able to save Jerec and the fisherman, to which Jerec posed the idea of Melanie becoming a true healer. Marv exuded quite a bit of fatherly pride at his daughter being so praised, but Jerec wondered if the suggestion made it past the Rivertown stubbornness.

Jerec had sensed that, given how Melanie had opened up to him the previous night,that she'd dearly wanted someone to talk to. And sure enough, she seemed to want to spend as much time as she could with him, even while attending to chores around the house as well as running errands in town. That she continued to confide in him meant Jerec was being drawn ever deeper into her problems and risking his secrets getting out. Yet somehow, Jerec didn't care. Apart from his owing Melanie his life, and how badly she needed his friendship in return, he was glad to no longer be alone. After weeks, or even months, of moving from place to place and holding all he met at arm's length, he had nearly forgotten how cathartic it was to have someone he could talk to.

And, with Melanie, he'd found himself more and more enchanted by her beauty and quiet strength, just as surely as his heart went out to her over her dilemma. She talked to him about the show she had seen, though it was obvious that Raphael still hadn't endeared himself as a prospective husband, as well as some other dates she and Raphael had gone on. Jerec, in turn, shared some of his adventures as a mercenary, ultimately electing to tell her those that involved Elincia, but with some strategic omissions.

"She was seriously found, with Sir Ike, naked?!" she gaped as he relayed the tale of the hunt for Ettard.

"Well, she was wearing her slip," Jerec clarified. "But between the waterfall and the rain, it was so soaked that nobody could tell. I swear, Titania must've sprouted gray hairs when she found them."

"How perfectly mortifying!"

"I'll bet. You know, for a while, I thought it was things like that which caused them to end the relationship. I mean, if they'd gotten carried away - really carried away - what would've happened? I thought they'd decided it wasn't worth the risk and ended it. I cannot even remember the last time I was so glad to be wrong."

"Same here. So, you said word reached you about Sir Ike and Queen…well, she's still queen to me, Queen Elincia via a letter sent from the castle? Did you hear whether Sir Ike and Queen Elincia are going to come back after the war in Altarais is over?"

"I got the feeling they haven't decided. Probably not enough time to think it over with a war to fight. In fact, I don't know either. A lot of people would be glad to have them back, but abdicating a throne doesn't strike me as the sort of thing you can just "take back." Maybe they'll live here as mercenaries? Or, they might stay in Altarais? I know what it's like to want to put the past, all of the past, behind you. I'll respect their decision, whatever it is. But, if we do need to learn to manage without Sir Ike always charging to the rescue, I figure we may as well get started."

"In case Sir Ike doesn't get the chance to say this, you're a good friend. A lot of people would just want him to come back and fix everything. It does you credit that you feel differently, that you consider what he and Queen Elincia want and deserve."

Jerec couldn't help but blush at the compliment, and he became all too aware that it was going to be hard to leave Melanie when he had to continue his journey back to Daein. Still, perhaps his wanderings might take him back here, since a major exporter likely had no shortage of work for a skilled mercenary.

Assuming, of course, you can stand the sight of her "husband," his inner voice said cynically.

More days of forced inactivity passed. With so many wounded in the bandit attack, local infirmaries and apothecaries had run out of medicine while treating the wounded. But one day, they were at last able to replenish their supplies. Now that Jerec could apply vulneraries to his wounds again, his persistent aches vanished, and soon enough, he could also leave his bed and walk freely. Melanie, who was overjoyed at the news, offered to let him accompany her on a trip into town afterward. Some shops were still closed due to needing repairs after the attack, but others were open and back to selling their wares as usual. Jerec had to admit, he was impressed by the grit of Rivertown's people, who could square their shoulders and carry on mere days after such chaos. And, he could use all the supplies he could get for the road. It would be a long trip to Daein, especially if he had to go afoot. So he followed Melanie out towards the market at a leisurely pace.

While they were there, they browsed many stalls selling food, camping gear, herbs, and other supplies. Along the way, they conversed still more. They mainly discussed what to buy, with Jerec supplying what details he could about distance and weather without saying just which country was his destination, though they also strayed to other topics every now and then. Melanie had, apparently, been reading up on traveling while she'd been absent from his side, as she suggested a number of possible recipes that could make campfire cuisine more palatable and how to treat himself in the event he suffered injury while he was alone. Jerec soon realized, however, that they'd passed Rivertown's wedding boutique without Melanie even giving it a second glance. Considering Melanie was engaged, even if she was leery of her groom, Jerec thought it would've made sense for her to be looking at flowers or wedding gowns.

Perhaps she had taken his advice, and had confronted Raphael about how she really felt about him? Though Jerec reminded himself for what felt like the thousandth time that it wasn't his business, and that he might very well earn the ire of the community for interfering with what they all, incorrectly, thought was a perfect match, he could not help the irrational hope that welled up in his chest.

Deciding to find out, he stopped Melanie with a hand on her shoulder and craned his head in the direction of the boutique.

"Ah, yes…" Melanie realized, and the lancer felt his hope fizzle at her words. "Well, the truth is, Raphael and I haven't even decided on a wedding date yet. I'm not sure, and thankfully, he isn't either. I guess he's waiting for what he thinks is the perfect time or something. You may have noticed, he's quite the theatrical sort."

"Oh yes," Jerec replied, though his own assessment was far less charitable. "Say, we've been walking for quite a while. Do you want to take a lunch break?"

"Oh, sure! That's a good idea. My feet are starting to ache and we're getting loaded down with these bags."

With that, the two went to find a nice café. After passing up several that were serving venison, the footsore Jerec was relieved when Melanie consented to dine at one that mainly served seafood. They were about to enter when a familiar voice came up from behind them.

"Oh, well look who it is!" Raphael said, though he didn't entirely sound pleased. "It's good to see you up and about, Jerec. And…I see you decided to join sweet Mel here."

"Oh, Raphael. Thanks," Jerec replied, putting so much stiff formality in his tone it was a wonder his tongue didn't go rigid. "And, yes. I was gathering supplies for the road, and Melanie offered her expertise on the local wares."

"Good morning, Raphael," Melanie greeted, sounding as congenial as Jerec did. "What brings you out here?"

"Running an errand for my parents, my sweet," Raphael said, somewhat testily. "I've also been browsing for things we could use at our wedding. You should start doing so as well. Not to mention we still need a proper date for the ceremony…"

"Oh, yes… I have been thinking about it, actually. Don't worry."

"Good! I hope Jerec isn't trying to be overly forward with you. That wouldn't be appropriate."

"I'm not," Jerec protested, though his patience was sorely being tested. "We're just about to have some lunch, that's all. We've been shopping for quite a while and we needed a quick rest."

"Yes, Raphael, and Jerec will be leaving us fairly soon, you don't have to worry about him," Melanie added, and none could overlook the quirk at the corner of Raphael's mouth that hinted at a grin. "And, honestly, we've been through this already."

Melanie's words had taken on a rare, reprimanding tone as she, most likely, alluded to Raphael's behavior when he learned she was helping the bedridden Erwin. But when Raphael winced at her words, Jerec doubted he was getting the message.

"Well, yes," Raphael replied after much too long a pause. "I'm only saying that they shouldn't be anything more than that when you're already with me. Still, I suppose I should've foreseen such when I was betrothed to a woman with a heart of gold. Well, I'll try to respect your wishes to help the misfortunates of the world, but I will keep my eyes open, just to be safe. Now, see you around, my lovely!"

Raphael pecked Melanie on the check and then walked off, leaving Jerec and Melanie by themselves again. Jerec couldn't help but sigh in annoyance.

"Wow, is he always this paranoid?" he wondered, too incensed to be circumspect.

"Sadly, I'm afraid so…" Melanie confirmed. "He says I'm allowed to have male friends, but it certainly doesn't feel like it."

"I can see why."

"He really is a good man though, Jerec. It's just that, in times like these, it's easy to forget that keeping your loved ones close is one thing, but smothering them is another. Still, I would hate for a rift to form between you two."

"Yeah, he did help save me, so I suppose he does have some good points. That's probably the only reason I'm not legitimately flipping my lid right now. Well, let's get a table."

lancer could sense his misgivings about Raphael weighing on him more than the bags he'd spent that morning lugging all over town. But he already sensed that Melanie was aware of the smothered antipathy between the two men, and was displeased by it. Deciding not to upset her further, he signaled a waiter and requested a table on the patio, as the weather was sunny, clear, and fairly warm. When the waiter approached them, a punchy smile crossed his features.

"Ah, what do we have here? A young couple on a date?" he wondered, chuckling merrily. "I shall get you an excellent table!"

"Oh! Oh no, we're not…ah…" Melanie spluttered, her cheeks turning pink as an unbidden chuckle escaped her.

"Eh heh, we're not on a date. Just a friend repaying a good turn," Jerec stepped in, though he suspected his cheeks were turning pink as well. "And the bill's on me."

That seemed to mollify the waiter; though, when the lancer felt his coin pouch, he found himself hoping that Melanie did not have expensive tastes.

"No, it's on me!" another voice called out.

Turning, the trio spied a burly blonde haired man who, despite using a cane and having a visible limp, approached them at a brisk pace and wearing a wide grin.

"I remember you!" the lancer spoke up. "You were on that trawler that ran aground during the bandit attack."

"That, I was," the fisherman replied, leaning in precariously to shake Jerec's hand. "Heime is my name, and I dare say that my wife and I owe you our lives."

"Think nothing of it, sir," Jerec replied, the rosy tinge of his cheeks deepening at the praise. "I was just—"

""Sir", he says! Does this cane look like a lance to you? Still, there aren't many who'd hazard their life for a pair of strangers."

A flicker of pain crossed the fisherman's face and he collapsed into a nearby chair.

"Blast this knee!" Heime grumbled, massaged the joint which Jerec graphically remembered being used for target practice by the bandit archers. "Still, at least my eldest is ready to helm the trawler until I'm well again. I fear I've little else to offer you, but let me take the bill. We don't soon forget those who lend a helping hand in Rivertown, even if we must beg their patience while we're returning the favor."

Jerec was tempted to refuse, as the man certainly wouldn't be able to work in his condition and he had a family to think of. But, Melanie delivered him a swift kick to the ankle, alerting him to how she, apparently reading his intent, was subtly shaking her head. The message was clear, refusing such a gesture could be taken as an insult.

"Very well, if you insist," the lancer conceded, though he raised a hand to forestall any reply. "But, anything we don't spend, you keep. I insist."

"As you like it," Heime said, tossing a coin pouch which Jerec caught in midair.

"Now, as I was saying, there are plenty of good tables available! Follow me!" the waiter said.

He then led them to a table near the edge of the patio that was shaded by the spreading boughs of a huge oak tree, an appropriate symbol for the redoubtable community's endurance. They both ordered fish fillets and clam chowder. As their food arrived some time later, Melanie spoke up again.

"Say, Jerec. It just occurred to me that I haven't asked you where you're from."

"Ah…" Jerec spluttered, nearly dropping his fork.

The lancer, all too aware of his inner voice railing at him for arousing her curiosity, frantically began parsing through his arsenal of cover stories. But he already suspected that Melanie would not be impressed.

After all, diverting attention away from the truth was not likely to work since Melanie was well practiced herself in that particular skill.

Yet, Jerec felt some relief when he saw understanding in Melanie's expression.

"When we spoke, that first night, you implied that you don't have a home to return to," she pointed out. "And, if you're a mercenary, you might not even be from Crimea. You also said that you travel around a lot looking for jobs, but surely you used to have a home somewhere, right?"

Warnings to keep his mouth shut echoed so shrilly in Jerec's ear that he half expected to go deaf. Yet once again, he found the voice of caution being drowned out by the earnest concern in Melanie's lambent eyes.

"Well, yes, I did have a home," he admitted. "But…it's hard for me to talk about. There have been a lot of…ill feelings between me and the people there. I'm sorry."

"Oh, I see. Don't worry, I understand that," Melanie replied, and Jerec could guess where this empathy was coming from easily enough. "It's not easy for my family to talk about the Mad King's War either, especially my father. He and his brothers were very close, and my cousins were more like brothers and sisters to me. In fact, that's not even the worst part. Those collaborators who turned them in? One of them was my cousin Benjamin's girlfriend."

This time, Jerec did drop his fork.

"I was informed not long after the war ended," Melanie went on. "A messenger from the war crimes tribunal came to me, saying they'd found the documents in the office of one of Ashnard's administrators. He said Sonia, that was Benjamin's girlfriend, had been sent into a mine as a "reward" for her services, and that she'd been killed in a cave-in. My parents were away at the time, and I didn't have the heart to tell them. So, yes, I know what it's like to have things in my past that I wish I could forget."

Jerec was more than a bit shaken, both by the depth of betrayal she'd described and that she'd tell him when she hadn't even told her family. Again, Melanie seemed to read the question in his eyes.

"I told you for the same reason I told you about Raphael," she said. "Because I needed to tell someone, someone I can trust. And, even though we haven't known each other very long, I can tell you understand what I'm going through, holding in all these secrets. And, even though you haven't told me much, I believe I can trust you."

"Thank you," Jerec said after a long pause. "It's been…a long time since someone's said something like that to me."

Though Melanie hadn't said so explicitly, Jerec felt certain that she'd chosen to respect his wishes not to discuss his past, along with a wave of relief washing over him. He honestly felt like he had dodged an arrow on that one. Though Melanie had shown herself to be very understanding, he still had no idea what she would think if she knew he was from Daein. Nor if she would keep such a secret to herself. She did seem trustworthy, but Jerec was still reluctant to take any needless risks at the moment.

And, though it surprised him to admit it, he also didn't want Melanie to get caught up in his problems. Although Ashnard had made a point of treating Crimean collaborators little better than he did his laguz enemies, the lancer had heard tell that some of the collaborators had met their ends at the hands of the countrymen they'd betrayed.

Some such stories were downright gruesome, and Jerec feared Melanie would fare little better if it became know she was cavorting with a Daein expatriate.

Still, after she'd opened up so much to him, and had been the only person to do so in years, he felt compelled to tell her something.

"It is true that it's best if I keep some of the details to myself," Jerec continued, mustering his nerve. "But I trust you too. My old home is where I was journeying to before that attack in town. I'm going to meet with a longtime friend to resolve some…family matters. There was something my father wanted to do, before the wars took him. And, now that he's…gone, I need to see it through on his behalf. "

"Ah, I see," Melanie continued. "I hope you'll have enough supplies for the road then. That's why I invited you with me after all!"

"Yeah, and thanks," Jerec said with a smile. "Though I had already gotten some supplies a couple days ago, it never hurts to have more so long as you can carry it."

"Right!"

The pair resumed their rambling conversation as they ate their meals. Jerec was honestly enjoying himself more than he would've expected, and he hadn't had such a good time in probably years. Not since that one time he and a friend had pulled some pranks on Ike and his friends while they were out camping. Now that was a blast, despite Ranulf's stupid idea to toss Elincia's nightdress onto Geoffrey's bedroll, Jerec remembered. I swear, I'd never seen Ike so pissed, not even when he saw how tubby he'd looked as a kid. Love can make people do crazy things, I guess. And not just the lovers in question either.

Jerec eventually mentioned this very scenario to Melanie as well, and of course, she laughed until her eyes watered. Jerec was glad that, although King Ramon's vision had found a stubborn audience in Rivertown, Melanie had been right when she'd said that they'd eventually come around. Indeed, she'd found Ranulf's shenanigans to be her favorite part of the story. Apart from Melanie herself, most had been quite afraid of the laguz before the wars, but the sight of them helping to rebuild some of what was lost in the Mad King's War had caused things to change.

Rivertown's people prided themselves on never forgetting someone who'd done them a good turn, and it seemed that sentiment could even prevail over the racial divide.

Jerec could only hope that the same could happen in the future between Crimea and Daein as well, for he'd seen the two countries go to war twice in the span of five years and didn't relish the notion of that happening a third time. Maybe things would change and someday, they wouldn't hate each other anymore. Though her leading her army and the Dawn Brigade against Crimea and the Laguz Alliance hadn't endeared her in Jerec's eyes, he found himself hoping that Daein's Queen Micaiah could reach an accord with King Renning and make it happen.

"That was delicious," Jerec commented when the two finished their food sometime later, and with some reluctance, opened Heime's coin pouch.

"It was!" Melanie agreed. "Oh, but Jerec, don't feel bad about accepting Heime's offer to pay for it. You probably don't make a whole lot as a mercenary, and he probably would've rather eaten his cane than lose his chance to offer you something in return for saving him and his wife."

"Yeah, but I still don't like the idea of taking the money from him, especially since he has a family to think of and can't work with that knee of his."

"Oh, you're so kind. Well, how about we split the cost? I'll pay for my portion, you use Heime's money to pay for yours. That way, he won't have lost much. Besides, I still would rather you not have to pay for all of it…"

"Heh, alright, that's fair."

With that, half of the money gathered on the table came from Heime's coin pouch, which Jerec was only happy to return to its proper owner, and the other half was produced by Melanie. The waiter soon appeared, accepted their payment, and bid them good day. Jerec stood up from his chair and pushed it in, and Melanie got up from hers as well. Just as she was about to walk away from it, however, she suddenly pitched forward, her arms pinwheeling for balance as a loose cobblestone shifted under her foot.

"Ah!" she cried. Jerec lunged in, darting in front of Melanie and snatching her by the waist. She stood up, blowing out a sigh of relief, and both soon discovered his hands had lingered at her waist, while her own had encircled his shoulders. Their eyes met for a long moment, each seeming entranced by the other's gaze. That is, until Jerec realized what this could look like to other parties.

Some of their gazes were upon them now, and not all were friendly.

"…Oh! Uh…sorry," Jerec said, pulling away. Melanie giggled.

"Hee hee, it's alright. And thanks for helping me there. That was a little embarrassing."

"Heh, I bet."

"Ho ho… Are you two sure you're not a couple?" the waiter's voice suddenly spoke up. Jerec nearly jumped, and Melanie turned and gasped as well.

"Oh, sorry about that," Melanie said, giggling again. "I just tripped and he caught me before I could fall to the ground, that's all. But that did probably look a little awkward, huh?"

"Ah, I see. Well, you two have a good day now!"

Before heading off to serve another table, however, the waiter approached Jerec and leaned in close to whisper into the lancer's ear.

"One thing though, my friend," he began. "Whether you and that girl are together or not, just know this. No matter where you go looking for it, sometimes what you really want will just pop up out of nowhere, right in front of you."

Before Jerec could get in another word, the waiter turned and ambled off, already serving a large party, and leaving the lancer to wonder just what in the name of Ashunera's underwear he was talking about. Explanation was obviated, however, when Melanie suddenly darted into his field of vision, breaking him out of his trance…and pointedly reminding him just that little display must've looked like to the people milling in the streets, several of which might know Melanie to be Raphael's betrothed.

"Yoo hoo, did you start daydreaming or something?" she said with a chuckle.

"Oh, heh, sorry," Jerec replied, all too aware of the perplexed and near-hostile gazes being sent in his direction. "Let's go."

He couldn't have been talking about Melanie, the lancer insisted to himself as the two continued on. There's no way I could be with her. I don't even love her. …Do I?

As he began to parse his thoughts about Melanie, however, he quickly second-guessed that claim. He remembered how he had been spellbound by her beauty, how he quickly came to respect her convictions, to admire her near-limitless patience and understanding, how her betrothal to Raphael had raised his ire, both before and after meeting the man, and his desperate desire to share the truth of himself with her.

"What in the name of Ashunera's underwear was he talking about?" you said,that inner voice spoke up again with venomous sarcasm.Did you not listen to me and seriously end up falling for another man's woman?!

In truth, Jerec wasn't sure. He'd never been in love before, so he couldn't be certain if that was what his fixation on Melanie truly meant…

…but he could guess what anybody else - everybody else - would make of his thoughts about her if he gave voice to them.

Of course, he was painfully aware of just how serious a line he was about to cross, as Melanie was, as he'd often told himself, another man's woman. Even if his misgivings about Raphael were true, it wasn't his place to try to take her from her fiancé, even if she said she didn't actually love Raphael in that way. The lancer was hesitant to say that it would be wrong of him to interfere, though that hesitation was quite disquieting. He told himself, repeatedly, that Melanie would either decide to go along with the marriage in order to please her parents, as well as Raphael, or she would find a way to break it off.

Either way, it was her choice. And, Jerec owed it to her to respect her decision.

After leaving the café, Jerec had almost convinced himself to leave well enough alone when he noticed a florist not much farther down the road. Before he could think better of it, he motioned Melanie to follow him there. Whether I'm falling for her or not…I can't help wanting to do this, to make her happy, he thought has he selected a red rose whose thorns had been cut and paid the florist for it. He then turned to Melanie and held it out before her.

"Hey…here," Jerec said with a bashful smile. "For…well, everything you've done for me. It might be a while before I can do better, but I hope you're not disappointed."

Melanie couldn't help but let a wide grin cross her features.

"Oh, Jerec, it's lovely!" she gushed. She took the rose and carefully stuck it in one of her bags. Despite a smile finding his lips as well, Jerec nearly kicked himself. What had he been thinking?!

You've been thinking? Could've fooled me, his inner voice sneered at him.

And the lancer had to concede the point. Melanie was probably the closest thing he'd had to a friend in a long time, and his feelings for her ran deeper still. But he also knew that he couldn't come between her, Raphael, and her family. He was just a guest who they'd rescued off the street when he'd been wounded, not a suitor looking to marry their daughter. And of course, she had long been betrothed to another man anyway.

Add in the knowledge that, sooner or later, someone would realize he was from Daein, and it would be best if the parted amicably…if not permanently.

Despite Jerec's somber realization, the rest of the day went by smoothly. Jerec decided to help with a few chores as thanks for the family's caring for him. Marv and Fayna didn't mind either, even though they did insist at first that Jerec was just a guest and still not fully recovered. Jerec, however, countered by say he'd been bored near to madness in that bedroom, and that he'd insisted upon it.

As it turned out, invoking Rivertown's infamous motto about always repaying a good turn worked for foreigners as well.

He aided both them and Melanie in washing dishes as well as laundry and sweeping. Once, while hanging clothes out to dry, Jerec's hand unwittingly brushed against Melanie's as they both reached for the same garment. Strangely, though Jerec was well aware of just what such a scene might look like, the thought seemed distant compared to the warmth of Melanie's delicate hand. But Jerec eventually mastered himself and quickly drew back, glad that Raphael hadn't been around much during the day. Not to mention neither he nor Melanie's parents seeing the rose. They would've definitely suspected that something was going on.

During dinner, Jerec managed to laugh for the first time in quite a while, even at some of the Daein-related jokes Marv or Fayna would make. A few could chap his hide even after leaving Daein, but he could look past it because he understood quite well why they had such disdain for his country. In fact, some of the others Jerec would likely use himself every now and then. As he considered it, he regretted having to leave this family. He didn't have many friends outside of the Greil Mercenaries, and even them he saw only rarely. But hate for Daein ran deep here and Jerec still had his journey to embark on.

Somewhere out there, there was another child of General Bryce. And whoever or wherever that young person might be, he, or she, might very well need Jerec's help.

That had mollified him, at least until Melanie talked him into joining her as she watched the sunset. Melanie had cut the rose's stem somewhat shorter and pinned it to one of the ribbons in her hair so she could wear it like an accessory. Jerec thought it looked good…assuming of course no one guessed just where it came from.

"Oh, Jerec, today was wonderful, wouldn't you say?" Melanie commented. "I'd never had such a good time doing chores! Ha ha."

"Heh, yeah," Jerec agreed. "I didn't mind helping. It was better than lying in bed all day. Besides, I've gained an appreciation for how Rivertown never lets a good turn go unanswered. It's a rare thing to see, even in good times, and it's…refreshing."

"Yeah, I can imagine. I'm glad Raphael and I don't have a date tonight. I'd rather sit out here with you. You're going to be leaving us real soon, after all…"

"Ah, yeah… I'm sorry about that. I am nearly recovered, and I have some promises to keep. In fact…I've decided that I should go first thing in the morning."

Hearing this, Melanie's head snapped in his direction and her lambent eyes went wide with shock.

"What? Why?" she wondered, and she saw Jerec struggling to find an answer. "Is it because of Raphael?"

"Kind of," Jerec admitted. "There is more to it than that, but I'd say it's no secret that he seems to think I'm trying to get too close. In fact, some of the other people in town seemed to think so as well."

"Oh, honestly. Don't worry about him! I know I said I didn't really love him in that way, but ever since we were kids, he's acted as though every guy I talk to is trying to "steal me." It's not just you."

The lancer had been somewhat startled by Melanie's vehemence, as she'd appeared, if anything, much too patient with Raphael in the past. Perhaps she had been reining in her frustration with him, and her situation, at the time? Or, perhaps even her long temper had its limits?

As to what it might mean that she was once more defending him against her own fiancé, Jerec was reluctant to contemplate the notion.

"I think a lot of Raphael's problems stem from how his parents put too much pressure on him," Melanie said, allowing the lancer a much needed distraction from Melanie's earlier defense of him. "After the decision was made to betroth us, they made it pretty clear that they expected him to marry me someday. They always were pretty strict, even more so than my own parents can be at times."

"I see… I won't bother pretending that excuses some of the things I've seen, but perhaps you're right in saying that it's not entirely his fault. I don't think I've worried much about living up to other's expectations since my father died, except maybe Ike's, but I remember it can be harsh if you let it."

"Exactly."

"Still, I think it would be best if I were to leave tomorrow. It's actually not just Raphael, though. Like I said, I have some promises to keep, for my father's sake. And I've been delayed too long already."

"Oh… I do understand that. If you really have to then…"

At this moment, Jerec could swear he saw a tear glisten in Melanie's eye, but decided not to say anything about it. He didn't dare trust himself to say something that could never be taken back.

"I'm glad this evening is so lovely though," she continued, trying to smooth out her expression. "It would've been disappointing if it rained or was overcast."

Maybe it was the knowledge that Melanie might very well be Raphael's bride the next time they saw each other. Perhaps it was the likelihood that, with his dangerous life, Jerec might not live long enough to see her again in any case. Whatever the reason, the urge to tell a truth, a dangerous truth, won out.

"Yeah… Though I've seen lovelier things out here," Jerec hinted with a smile, eyeing Melanie.

…Wait, did I really just say that?!

"You're not trying to get too close, huh?" Melanie joked with a giggle.

"I'm just giving you a compliment," Jerec insisted, his cheeks turning red.

"I know, I'm teasing, silly. Although… I'm really going to miss you…"

Here, Jerec paused for a moment before responding.

"I…I feel the same about you, honestly," he said, having no idea what else to say. "But… I never did say I was leaving forever. I can try to come back to visit."

"Oh, really? Thank you, Jerec…"

Though he swore he could feel his lungs spasming, the lancer sidled over to Melanie and laid a hand over hers.

"Of course…" he intoned, once more surprised at his own sincerity.

"You're so sweet…" Melanie returned, withdrawing her hand to wrap one arm around his shoulder.

"Heh, thanks… It's funny though. "Sweet" isn't the sort of word that springs to mind when people describe me. Quite a few think I can't keep a grip on my temper."

Melanie chuckled.

"Well, from what I've seen and heard, when you get angry, it's for the right reasons."

"I've said it before, and I'm saying it again. You're a lot more patient than I am. But I have to admit, I can fly off the handle easily. After all, last time that happened, you had to clean up the mess."

"Maybe, but I still think you're a really kind man. Besides, you made that "mess" ensuring that a father and mother got home to their children. That was a brave deed, and you should be proud."

"Heh… Thanks…again," Jerec stammered. Their eyes were now fixated on each other, and moments later, a tear really did form in Melanie's eye and course down her cheek.

"It's hard having to see you go like this… I'm sorry…" she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"I know… But I promise I'll be back," Jerec decided. "It's probably best if you don't know much, but I did leave my home for a reason. So I won't be staying there long."

"Sniff… Alright. I'll hold you to that, you know…"

"Right," Jerec agreed with a smile, and then cupped Melanie's cheek with a brawny hand to wipe her tear away. "But believe me, I'll see you again. There's…no one else I'd rather spend a day with the way we did."

"Really…? Oh…Jerec!"

With her eyes brimming with more tears, but nary a hint of sadness, the calm control that had allowed Melanie to keep her head when snatching two men from the jaws of death, or to feign delight at the prospect of marrying a man she did not love, deserted her. She lunged forward and pressed her lips against Jerec's.

If Jerec's inner voice had been loud before, it was deafening now.

Yet, though what was left of his better judgment screamed at him to break away, even if it meant throwing her to the far bank of the Everfrost, Jerec found that he couldn't. Quite the opposite, in fact, for he could only return the gesture as his hands cradled on Melanie's cheeks.

Argh! What the hell is wrong with you?! With both of you?! This is BAD!

Yet, shout and rail though his better judgment did, the lancer simply could not deny it any longer that he did love Melanie. And she loved him. Yet, whatever elation Jerec might've felt withered as he was reminded once more why their love could not be.

Yet, unbeknownst to them, the perils of that night of passion did not end there, for the winking stars above were not the only eyes to witness what had happened.

A certain someone had been watching them from behind some nearby foliage. His face had just gone pale in utter disbelief at what he was witnessing. Yet, shock had rooted to the spot…for the moment.

Finally, Jerec managed to pull away from Melanie. Slowly, reluctantly, but he managed it when his blossoming affection was tempered by the knowledge of what Melanie was poised to get herself into.

"I…I'm sorry," Melanie quickly apologized. "I couldn't keep it in anymore… Jerec, I love you! And I want to go with you!"

"…Wha-huh?!" Jerec gasped, whatever words he'd been about say in order to make her reconsider promptly forgotten. "Mel, that's…not a good idea at all. I can't deny it either, I love you too. But it's because I love you that I'm saying you have to stay and that I have to leave. This would kill Raphael and your parents, especially if I took you with me. They would think I kidnapped you or something!"

"No, they wouldn't!" Melanie insisted, her vehemence surprising both of them. "You remember when I told you I didn't love Raphael like they, or he, wanted me to, and how you said they'd understand if I admitted it? Well, I'd already made up my mind to do just that. I just…needed someone to help me get up the courage. I'll explain to them, and Raphael, how I've really felt. Maybe they'll be hurt, but they'll get over it."

"It…It's not that simple," Jerec said, grimacing. "There are bigger reasons why you shouldn't come with me. And I'm not just talking about having to fight bandits, or bed down on the turf, or hunt and forage for every meal. I…there's something I need to tell you, before you make a decision you'll regret later. I never brought it up before, and I've always deflected when I was asked about it, because…"

"What? What do you mean?"

Jerec barely heard her over the pounding in his ears. This was, he knew, the point of no return. If he answered her question, it might very well destroy their burgeoning love. And even if it didn't, what then? If what he said next became widely known in Rivertown, it might very well see the whole town turn on them…especially if Melanie still loved him afterward.

And yet, he found himself wondering just what either of them had to lose.

He was an outcast, as much by choice as necessity, while she was trapped by her impending marriage to a man she did not love, pining for a way out. She was willing to join him in his exile if it meant she could live her life on her own terms, but did he have the right to drag her into such a harsh and dangerous life? Or perhaps, it wasn't his choice to make? What if she decided, freely and with full knowledge of what it meant, to join him? That she was willing to take up with a man she'd only just met a week before to escape an unwanted betrothal, in spite of all the hardship it entailed?

Though the question had his conscience tied in knots, Jerec realized that it would mean that, at long last, he wouldn't be alone anymore.

Even though he still feared what she'd say in answer to what he had to say next, he drew in a deep breath and gave his answer.

"Remember when you asked me where I'm from? How I never specifically said where I was from or where I was going? And how I said it was hard for me to talk about? That was the truth, but there's more to it. Much more to it. I'm… from Daein."

"…You…you are? From Daein?"

"Yes… And what's more, my father was one of the original Four Riders. General Bryce, to be precise."

After voicing this truth, this most deadly of truths, Jerec's tongue seemed to wrench itself free of his control. For truth, not unlike the river that coursed through the heart of the town, could only be contained for so long. And, given the slightest breach in whatever held it at bay, it would seep through and then spill forth in a flood.

"I served in Ashnard's army during the Mad King's War," he began, starting at what was likely the most damning part of the tale, "and I was nearly buried alive when Nados Castle collapsed after Ike defeated the Black Knight. By the time I dug myself out, the war was over and I slinked home with my tail between my legs."

As his recollection turned in a, comparatively, happier direction, the faintest hint of a smile crossed his features.

"Six months after the war, I was sent to Crimea to request their aid against a rogue army of wolf laguz," he continued. "I was livid at the humiliation of it, and who should Crimea send but Ike, who I'd blamed for my father's death. Yet, as I fought at his side, and alongside a pair of wolf laguz who'd deserted the rogue army and wanted to help us, how I felt about Ike, and the laguz, began to change."

After pausing to draw in a long breath, he finished his tale.

"After that, Daein just didn't feel like home anymore. Not when I'd come to respect Ike and the laguz while the Daein people spat on their names with every other breath. So I resigned from the army and left. I wandered for a time as a mercenary, joined Ike and the Greil Mercenaries in their hunt for Ettard, fought with the Crimean irregular forces during the Crimean Civil War and the Goddess War, and then went back to my wanderings. And, thus we met."

And, there it was, out in the open. He had worn the same armor and carried the same banner as the people who'd slain people she'd loved, who had ransacked her home, and whose actions left scars on her family and country that lingered years after the fact…

…and yet, when he dared meet her gaze, he did not see the livid hatred he'd expected. He saw surprise, introspection, and even some enthrallment with the tale, yet not a glimmer of hatred entered her gaze.

"…Whoa," she gasped, the word barely audible.

"Now you see why this is such a problem?" Jerec asked gravely.

"I do… My parents hate Daein, especially the Four Riders…"

"Exactly. And I was afraid you did too."

"…But Jerec, you see, I don't care! I still love you! And, didn't you hear what I said when you woke up? How I believed that there are some good Daein people out there? Well, now I have proof! You fought alongside Sir Ike and Queen Elincia, twice, and defended this country when it was being invaded by Begnion. You're a hero, fit to match Sir Ike himself! That is a tale that could persuade even my parents."

"After I just kissed you while they'd already set you up with another man? This has trouble written all over it. You might not care, but they will. And, even if they believe you, who else will? We might have to leave anyway. And if you come along when I leave, believe me, not having a roof over your head will be the least of your problems."

"They can get over it! And if not, I'll make do."

Here, she paused and drew him into another kiss, and this time Jerec felt her tongue lance across the threshold of their melded lips. Stunned, the lancer felt the meaning of what she'd said wash over him. He had voiced the truth of himself, the very truth he'd expected would sunder their newly forged bond, but she hadn't rebuked him.

Just the opposite, in fact.

He had revealed a secret which had scarred him for years, branded him an outcast in a land he wished to call home, and even years later condemned him to a life of an exile. And yet, in spite of all that, she still loved him and was willing to leave behind all she knew to be with him.

His inner voice propounded still more warnings, railing that even if he didn't die tomorrow fighting bandits, or of hunger the day after, he could offer her, literally, nothing but his love. He had no place to call home, few friends he could trust with the knowledge he had just so haphazardly shared, and no money besides that which he earned with his lance. Their lives would be hard and meager and, more likely than not, would end badly.

And yet, she didn't care. Much to his amazement, he didn't either.

His better judgment gave one last warning, saying it wasn't too late to break away and vanish, never to return, and thus spare her so grim a life.

And he told that voice to shut the hell up.

He leaned inward, Melanie arching beneath him as his tongue grabbled with hers and his brawny hands clasped her form to his, clutching her as he would a treasure beyond price. As Rose Thorn had said, he had survived long enough and now, at long last, he was time he began to live.

"I KNEW IT!" a familiar masculine voice suddenly thundered, seemingly out of nowhere.

Raphael, who'd finally regained his wits, leapt from his hiding place and came storming towards Jerec and Melanie as the couple leapt apart.

"Raphael?!" Melanie gasped. "Were you spying on us?!"

"Yes! And I'm glad I did!" he yelled, a manic gleam entering his eye and his words aflame with hate. "I heard everything! I knew this Daein vermin couldn't be trusted!"

Before Jerec could react, Raphael charged towards them in blur of frenzy and pulled the lancer up into the air by the front of his cloak.

"Agh! Hey! What the hell?!" Jerec rasped angrily.

"Raphael! Stop it!" Melanie demanded, trying vainly to break up the two men.

Raphael's only answer to his onetime fiancée was to fix her with a glare so livid that she blanched and drew back a pace, after which Raphael turned the fullness of his attention and rage on Jerec.

"YOU'RE NOTHING BUT DAEIN TRASH!" he screamed loud enough for half the town to hear…which, Jerec realized, might very well be the point.

He was jolted from that train of thought when Raphael drove his fist into Jerec's face, tearing the lancer from his grip and sending him stumbling backwards.

"AAGH! You goddess damn idiot!" Jerec fumed, though he wasn't sure if he meant Raphael or himself.

Raphael gave no answer, save for drawing in furious breaths that evoked the image of a bull poised to charge. But, though Jerec was no less enraged, he was also a veteran soldier with dozens upon dozens of battles behind him. He saw that Raphael was unhinged, and turned it to his advantage by sidestepping his foe's charge. Then, seizing handfuls of his shirt and trousers, wrenched him off his feet and sent him hurtling forward. Raphael crashed against the cobblestones, hard enough to knock the wind out of most men, but sheer rage had him on his feet again and swinging for the offending Daein vagabond…

…except Melanie was in front of him instead.

Having darted between the two men to try and break them up, Melanie took one of Raphael's fists across the jaw and, either not noticing just who he was striking or just as enraged at her for kissing Jerec, the nigh-berserk Raphael's other fist smashed a corona of bruise around her eye.

"Why you—!" Jerec bellowed, his own control deserting him as he charged headlong, his shoulder hitting Raphael full on and knocking him off his feet.

"You goddess damned piece of worm ridden filth!" Jerec screamed, punctuating each word with a blow that rattled bone and turned flesh purple. "You profess to love her, and yet you treat her like a prize mare! You never trust her, you let your paranoia, your wants, your possessiveness, dictate her life! Then you smack her around when she stands up to you!"

It might've been some trick of the red haze that occludes the vision during moments of unadulterated rage, but the lancer could've sworn that a flicker of surprise crossed Raphael's face and his gaze darted away from Jerec to a point past him. But, if that happened, it ended in the twinkling of an eye. And after that, Raphael smashed aside one of the lancer's blows and landed one of his own which rattled Jerec's teeth.

The lancer then drew back one fist and rammed it into Raphael's nose, eliciting a crack of bone and an ear splitting wail. Raphael flailed with his fists, his desperate strength allowing him to drive a fist into Jerec's gut that left the other man gasping. The two men, getting their second wind, rushed each other, exchanging blows and insults that echoed through the street. Melanie, more startled than hurt despite the deepening purple around one eye, wondered despairingly what she could do to stop them.

"PLEASE! Stop it! BOTH OF YOU!" Melanie desperately cried. But neither man seemed to hear her and, after what happened last time, she was leery about getting within arm's length of the two combatants again.

However, moments later, Marv and Fayna came rushing out, having heard the din of the melee.

"What in the name of the goddess?!" Fayna gasped, several of the exchanged salvos of vulgarity making her blush.

"Raphael! Jerec! STOP THIS AT ONCE!" Marv thundered, so loudly that lights began to flicker to life in the houses of several neighbors.

Finally, the two halted their brawl. Raphael, though the more bloodied of the pair, had managed to gain an advantage over Jerec, having ducked behind the lancer and wrenching one arm behind his back.

"He's a Daein!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "And he was lip-locking with MY woman!"

Had Ike suddenly appeared out of a fog bank, the ensuing silence would not have been as deafening.

"What?!" Fayna cried.

"You can't be serious!" Marv shouted, a frenzy not unlike Jerec's overtaking his features.

As surely as if a pail of cold water had been emptied over his head, the lancer was snapped from his enraged trance. As the blood pounding in his ears softened, he could make out shocked murmuring from several shadowed doorways where faint pinpricks of light hinted at Marv and Fayna's neighbors having heard this revelation. At the moment, most were too stunned to react, but it wouldn't take long for this tense situation to get ugly. Outnumbered, and none too willing to fight his way through his newfound love's friends and neighbors, Jerec knew that his only option was flight.

"All I wanted was a place where I could start over," Jerec intoned, hardly needing to feign the note of melancholy in his voice, but already gauging how best to escape this situation.

One of the, very, few advantages of being an exile, ever alone and with peril at every corner, was that one became very good at quickly devising escape plans for when the moment became truly dire.

Marv and Fayna were between him and the house and, therefore, his equipment and supplies. Without both, he had no chance. However, he also need a way to evade the hostile townsfolk.

Melanie had said much of what they need came from the river Everfrost, so might it also give him a means of escape?

"But, I guess I'll just have to keep looking!" he declared, his plans set.

Swinging his head backwards to crunch into Raphael's nearly broken nose, this time smashing it soundly, he grabbed the shrieking man and hurled him at Marv and Fayna. As he expected, Marv quickly threw himself at his wife, flinging her well away from the human projectile, and allowing Jerec to run past. He wanted to say good bye to Melanie, but his latest display of violence now threatened to rouse all of Rivertown against him and there was no way he'd be able to speak to her now…at least, not yet. He rushed back to the house, up the stairs to his former room, and snatched up his knapsack and lance. Remembering that Melanie had said that the river Everfrost could be seen from the window, and seeing the banks were quite close, he flung open the window, so violently that it banged against the outer wall of the house. Below, the townsfolk had gathered up and seeing the window being flung open, they drew in a breath and waited, certain that the lancer would soon leap from the second floor and ready to descend upon him when he landed…

…which is precisely why Jerec exited through the back door instead.

Melanie had been right about the window offering a fine view of the Everfrost, for a quick glance had been enough to tell the lancer who to skirt the hostile crowd in order to reach the river. Emerging from one patch of shadows only to vanish into another, he ran as fast as he could, charging for the banks of the Everfrost.

By the time the townsfolk realized he was already in the streets, he sprang towards the swift waters and sailed towards a yielding strip of sand, tucking into a roll upon impact. He rose and spied a dinghy tied up at one of the many weather-beaten piers that dotted the river. Loading the small vessel with his supplies, he slashed through the rope with his lance's blade and, setting his weapons aside in favor of an oar, paddled as fast as he could down the river. As he paddled, and cries of alarm and pursuit echoed behind him, he thought he could hear Melanie faintly shouting after him, but he reluctantly ignored her. Tears moistening his own eyes now, he just kept paddling.

Once Rivertown lay far behind him, he beached his stolen craft and leapt out. Having had more than a few close calls in his career, both as a soldier and a mercenary, he might've been impressed with how, with one daring maneuver, he had forced open a breach which had allowed him to escape the tightening ring of townspeople who, as he'd suspected, had become quite hostile once Raphael had publically exposed him. And apart from the well-deserved beating he gave Raphael, his escape had also been bloodless.

Yes, that escape would've been most impressive…if not for his being forced to leave Melanie behind.

In hindsight, perhaps he had been aware of the affection which had been blossoming between him and her, yet he had been too afraid to embrace it until that fateful moment as the sun vanished beneath the horizon. Even though every instinct in him screamed that it was a foolish and hopeless for him to have fallen for her, the heart had proven the stronger force. And, what's more, he'd finally found someone he could love and wished to share his life with, meager though it was. No less wondrous, she'd felt the same even after learning of his dark past…and yet he couldn't have her. This pained him more than any blow he'd taken in all his years of combat. And, as if that wasn't enough, there was the certainty that Melanie was probably much the worse off. After what had happened, it was doubtful that her feigned love for her long-time fiancé would stay secret much longer. And, Jerec feared how her parents and Raphael family would react.

Raphael hitting her in the midst of their fight might have been an accident, but the lancer had his doubts about how the jealous and volatile man would act once he realized he'd never been the object of Melanie's affections.

Jerec had promised her that he would come back… But, now that all of Rivertown knew his secret and would surely greet him with violence, could he keep that promise? Maybe, if he could find a way to slip into the town undetected, but he knew he'd be playing long odds since they'd surely anticipate his return. Yet, he was forced to admit that, for the moment, he still had a journey to complete. And, as hard as it was to be alone once more after having known the redeeming humanity of love, and though his heart sank with every step, he turned his gaze toward Daein and pressed on.

Whoever and wherever his previously unknown kin was, he did his best to make that his main focus now…even as doing so caused him more despair than he'd ever felt before.

Edited by Anacybele
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  • 3 months later...

I have two new chapters for this at last. ^^ Here's part 5!

Part 5: Emotional Decisions

It has been remarked by many of the philosophical persuasion that water never forgets.

Some of the waves later wrote that just as surely as water acted as a force for miraculous creation who had survived the Great Flood, in which so many lands and lives were lost beneath one moment and incomprehensible destruction the next, it forgot nothing that it has ever been a part of. Whether an eternity of surging waves that little by little erodes away the face of the cliff or part of the warmth in which a child forms prior to being birthed into the world, water remained a mute and indifferent witness to history, forgetting nothing that entered or emerged from its depths.

Had Jerec been of the philosophical persuasion, he might've wondered if the Everfrost would remember the frantic perspiration which had landed in the water during the frantic pursuit or the few tears of his that vanished into its frigid flow.

Of one thing Jerec was certain; he would never forget.

Not that he had much time to ponder much about the Everfrost, save for how, or if,it might help him escape his pursuers.

Even after Jerec had beached the stolen dinghy and retrieved his supplies from it, he hadn't dared stop. Now that all of Rivertown knew the truth of his identity, he didn't doubt for a moment that their ire would drive them to continue the chase. And since many of his would-be pursuers were skilled watermen, he likely could not afford to waste even a moment. He also knew that his pursuers had the home-field advantage. After generations spent sailing and fishing on the Everfrost, not to mention picking up the pieces after her frequent floods, the people of Rivertown surely knew the river, its banks, currents, and idiosyncrasies, the way husbands and wives known one another.

They were also experienced boatmen, while Jerec barely knew portside from starboard.

Yet, though Jerec was no sailor, he was a soldier. He'd fought and bested many foes, some of which were mightier than himself. He knew how to get inside the heads of his foes, to glean what they'd think and why, and how to turn that to his advantage.

Believing him to be a rank amateur on the water, which Jerec had to admit, might not be far from the truth, they'd surely expect him to paddle as far as he could and then once he'd reached the very limits of his endurance, beach his craft wherever he could find easy egress from the water. Likely a strip of sand or turf that was flat and open, which would make beaching his craft a simple matter and offer decent footing. From there, he would flee to parts unknown.

That was what his pursuers would surely expect, so Jerec did no such thing.

Instead, he sought out a treacherous portion of the riverbank, strewn with rocks that most sailors would avoid for fear of their boat being shredded beneath them. What's more, his chosen egress lay a fair distance above the waterline, boulders large and small forming a precarious staircase which offered a long and dangerous journey up...and a very quick and potentially fatal way back down.

Only a lunatic would choose such a location to disembark while fleeing pursuit, which hopefully meant that the vengeful folk of Rivertown would never guess that Jerec had done just that.

Before setting out, he unslung his lance and drove its heavy pommel into the boat's hull with all his might. The wood splintered and then cracked after several blows, allowing water to seep in through the small breach. The lancer then shoved the craft back into the river, watching as it was carried into the distance until, finally, it sank out of sight. Having spent some time amongst the hearty and hardworking people of Rivertown, and even coming to respect their strong sense of loyalty to family and neighbors alike, Jerec felt a pang of guilt over destroying one of their boats.

However, after tonight, it was likely the least of his, and probably anyone's worries back in Rivertown as well.

Shaking himself back to the present, the lancer quickly assessed his hastily drawn escape plan. If his likely pursuers assumed he'd want to get as far away as he could and then find an area where he could easily disembark, their search would likely take them much further down the river than he'd actually traveled. If they found the now sunk dinghy, they'd likely believe he'd left the river then and there, and would search for tracks they'd never find. Meanwhile, Jerec would clamber over the boulders, leaving no tracks whatsoever on the bare stone, and be well away before his pursuers doubled back.

The people of Rivertown would see through his little trick sooner or later, though that would mean they'd have the whole of the river to search. But for a chance to punish one of the hated Daeins, Jerec didn't doubt they'd try.

Making his way over the clump of boulders, carefully testing each foothold and skillfully adjusting his balance over the uneven surfaces, he soon reached the top. Letting out a sigh of relief, he ran east, without a care as to where he was going to find himself next. His subterfuge would buy him some time, but only so much, and any further planning would have to wait until he'd put some distance between himself and the river.

Besides, if he did slow down and start to think, he might recall just what he was running from…and how much it pained him.

Jerec had been a vagabond since shortly after the Mad King's War, a rootless wanderer who would travel as he pleased and earned his daily bread by offering his lance to whomever needed the aid of a seasoned warrior. He'd had to keep moving from place to place, rarely lingering and always evasive whenever questions arose about where he was from. More than once, people grew suspicious of him and this was not the first time he'd been forced to make a hasty exit…

…but it was the first time he'd truly regretted it.

Stiff-necked and short-tempered they might be, but he had come to respect the people of Rivertown. All too aware of how readily such trying times could cause one to fall into the trap of despair and apathy, or the far more insidious trap of concerning oneself solely with survival and rationalizing even the most deplorable acts to stay alive, Jerec had found Rivertown heartening. Her people had a sense of loyalty to their families and neighbors that was as strong as Ike's infamous biceps. They made a point of never letting a good turn go unpaid, even when they had little to offer in return or that good turn came from peoples strange and different, and only the most superficial complaints ever passed their lips even when floods upended their lives with jarring frequency.

After his latest brush with death had awakened him to how lonely he'd been during his years of wandering, he'd come to appreciate not only their strong sense of community but the simple pleasure of companionship.

Of course, the same infamous Rivertown stubbornness that allowed them to routinely rebuild homes and businesses damaged by the same river that gave them their livelihoods also meant those people were poor listeners. When Jerec had been exposed as a Daein, it hasn't taken him long to glean that any explanation would fall on deaf ears and staying to offer one would mean certain death. And thus, he'd had a taste of what it like was to finally have a place he'd like to call home and people he wanted to have as friends, only for a cruel whimsy of fate to snatch it all away again.

That wasn't the worst of it, however, but he shook himself back to attention and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Within minutes, Jerec spied a familiar setting that let him breathe his first sigh of relief he'd had in quite some time. In his frantic dash, he had forgotten that the Everfrost flowed right into the shorter, but much wider river in the eastern side of the country, the Crimdae. He'd fought battles there, both before and after he'd shed the ebon armor of Daein, and knew the river's mouth lay right at the only path between Crimea and Daein: the Riven Bridge. Wishing he'd had the time to admire the workmanship of the massive span that arched over such a vast gulf of water and shoals to ironically link two countries who were separated by a gulf far deeper, the lancer made his way to what was as much an edifice to admire as it was a functional artery for travel.

The bridge had also become known as a battlefield over the years thanks to two pivotal engagements taking place on it during the wars and both involving Ike and his party. The first had been against General Petrine during the Mad King's War, when Ike and Elincia had returned to Crimea following their invasion of Daein, leading the Crimean Liberation Army to oust Ashnard and his followers from the late King Ramon's castle. The second such battle had found Ike and his party heading in the opposite direction across the bridge during the Goddess War, after the sudden arrival of Ike, along with the dethroned Empress Sanaki and her retainers, had turned a bleak engagement with Begnion on its head. Even after hearing Mist's explanation of the true reasons behind the Goddess War, Jerec still had more questions than answers about the conflict, though the lancer was all too aware that Ike's fortuitous timing had likely saved Crimea and the Laguz Alliance from total defeat, as well as saving Jerec's own life yet again.

Adding his lingering questions to the lengthy list of things Jerec planned on saying to Ike if they ever met again, he turned his attention back to the road and decided that he had best follow the Crimdae River to the bridge. Once that was done, he would essentially be in Daein…and surely safe from any Rivertown residents overtaking him. Even if they figured out where he had gone, it was doubtful they'd risk pursuing him into a country that would most assuredly be hostile to Crimeans. He could move on with his journey to meet with Tauroneo with no more setbacks or interruptions.

Well, sort of.

Though Jerec missed the taste of community and fellowship he'd so briefly rediscovered in Rivertown, it was not the worst of his losses when he'd been forced to flee. Not by a long shot.

For the first time in his life, Jerec had also discovered love, only to have it torn from his grasp by a most malicious trick of fate.

"Melanie," he whispered to himself, the name alone squeezing tears from his eyes.

Melanie still weighed heavily on Jerec's mind. Though they'd only known each other for a few days, that had been more than enough for Jerec to become enchanted by the young woman's grit and gumption, her nearly limitless patience and understanding, and the strength of her convictions, not the least of those being that even a land with as bloody a history as Daein could still birth good people.

After all, when he'd revealed himself to her, she'd regarded him as living proof.

But their confession, and with it, the taste of freedom from having to hide behind their respective masks, had come at a high price when their words reached unfriendly ears.

Guilt over the trouble he'd caused her burned in Jerec's gut…but that guilt paled in comparison to the knowledge that he'd been forced to leave her behind to face greater trouble alone. At first, in the heat of the moment, and with the prospect of being torn to pieces by an angry mob looming over him, Jerec felt that leaving without her was the best option, that it would prevent the situation from getting worse. But now he wasn't so sure. Like himself, Melanie was burdened by her own secrets and had welcomed the catharsis of finally having someone with whom she could share some truths she dared tell no other, not the smallest of which being she did not love her fiancé and had been willing to run away, with a Daein expatriate, no less, to escape an unwanted marriage.

In a manner of speaking, surrounded by people who cared for her but whom she had to lie to every day, Melanie had been more alone than Jerec had been.

Now, however, her secrets were out and she was alone, even more so than she had ever been before, to face Raphael and her parents' undoubtedly considerable fury all by herself. Though the lancer certainly believed Marv to be a loving father, especially since Melanie might be the only young person left in the family since Ashnard had all her cousins hung, he also knew Marv hated Daein for taking nearly all of his loved ones. What's more, even the best parents could react harshly when one of their children lies to their faces. Indeed, and ironically, some of the best parents were just that because they answered such behavior sternly, as Jerec had learned from his own father after he'd concocted a less-than-impressive cover story to explain how an "experimental sampling" had emptied Bryce's liquor cabinet.

Jerec had only a hazy but unpleasant recollection of what his punishment had been, but it was enough that he began to wonder if he should've stayed. Even now, Melanie's neighbors, having been denied a chance to vicariously avenge their misfortunes on the Daein who'd skulked into their lives, might decide that Melanie deserved their ire just as much. If he had stayed, and somehow avoided being chopped into fish bait, could he have kept them from mistreating her, and possibly even disowning her? At this very second, they could've been forcing her to pack her bags and leave, figuring that she'd disgraced her family by cavorting with a Daein man behind her fiancé's back.

Feeling chills of worry climb his spine, Jerec tried to calm himself down and think clearly. Even if Melanie had tried to come with him during his escape, could she have kept up with his mad dash and dangerous leap towards the river? He respected her strength, but he doubted it. Even if she could've leapt towards the low docks, suppose she'd had a bad landing and broken a leg…or even her neck? For that matter, what if she'd missed her mark, landed in the churning water, and he'd been unable to reach her?

It occurred to him that he could turn back…but he had come so far and the sky was now dark. He was also growing weary from his flight and simply couldn't delay his meeting with Tauroneo too much longer. He also wondered if Melanie wouldn't actually be in greater danger if she did accompany him there. After all, he was returning, hopefully briefly, to Daein, where hatred for Crimea still ran strong in places. At least with her parents, there was a chance that they would listen when it counted, as Melanie had said they'd done when they saw real proof that King Ramon had been right to reach out to the laguz. In Daein, however, In Daein, they were almost certain to run into people that hated Crimeans, and if Melanie was discovered…Jerec didn't even want to think about it.

They say love will find a way, but this one's a doozy, he mused sadly.

Forcing away his melancholy, the lancer tried to focus on just what it would mean if, somehow, Melanie and he did find a way to reunite. Maybe he would get the chance to go back for her, or since she already knew where he was going, perhaps she might try to catch up with him. Either prospect was dangerous, since a second run-in with Rivertown's now hostile people might end differently for Jerec, and Melanie faced danger far greater in venturing after him alone.

Assuming they did meet again, which was unlikely enough, they would have to hide her origins while she was in Daein, just as he had hid his own across the border.

The more Jerec dissected the notion, the crazier it sounded. Even if the two of them eventually found a home, a real home, the intervening weeks, months, or even years, would be harsh. As he himself had pointed out to her, they'd be hunting and foraging for every meal, sleeping on the turf, they'd have little money, and only whatever small comforts they could carry on their backs. Even if they weren't killed by bandits one day, or died of starvation the next, either was just as likely to happen the day after.

He had told her as much, and yet she hadn't cared.

Perhaps, as he himself had mused earlier, she had as little to lose as he did.

After all, she had been trapped by her impending marriage to a man she did not love, and the truth of how she felt, about Jerec and Raphael, had likely made her an outcast from her home just as surely as Jerec's change of heart had forced him from Daein. Maybe he wasn't within his rights to allow Melanie to join him in what he knew was a harsh and meager life, but he knew that she had already made her choice.

And if she had been thrown out of her home, it would be best for her to come with Jerec regardless of the danger or his reservations.

But more than that, Melanie had saved Jerec's life, let him into her heart, and trusted him when so few had for years. And all she'd wanted in return was a chance to live her life on her own terms at his side.

Whether that choice was wise or not, he owed it to her to respect her wishes.

At that point, Jerec decided that there was only one thing he could do: keep his original promise.

Mel, I've decided. I'll come back for you when my journey is done. I told you I would return, and I will, regardless of what others think, he fumed mentally with a sniffle. I promise!

Jerec still hated having to make Melanie wait for him, especially when he pondered just how her family and neighbors might've reacted to Raphael exposing them, but he knew this plan would keep her safer than going back and trying to snatch her from Rivertown. And even if they did have to sneak into Daein somewhere down the road, at least they'd have more time to plan out how to avoid detection. With that, he hastened in a search for a place to bed down for the night. There were no towns or villages visible in the distance, so Jerec would have to hide himself among some trees as best as he could. And thankfully, there were a few copses here and there between his location and Riven Bridge, offering concealment from prying eyes. Hastily scattering stones and dry twigs to alert him to anyone straying too close, and wondering if he'd sleep through his own alarm as he had at the beginning of this journey, he dropped his knapsack, pillowed his head against it, and was out like a candle.

Somehow, not even his usual sleeping habits could prevent Jerec from waking rather early the next morning. His concerns for Melanie had kept him tossing and turning for some time, and he more than once pondered the grim prospect that she'd tried to follow him and had met some misfortune along the way. Frustrated as much by that very possibility as by the distance that now separated him from his love, he forced himself to wakefulness as early as possible so he could get back on the road and reach Daein. The sooner he resolved his family matters, the sooner he could find a way to be with Melanie. He hardly even ate anything after waking, he just immediately moved further up the river to the bridge. Searching his memory, he recalled there was a modest trading post not far beyond the bridge, just over the Daein border…

…well, "modest" was putting it politely.

Established by Ashnard's father during a lull in Crimea and Daein's mutual antipathy, the trading post, barely an hour's walk from the Riven Bridge, was ideally situated to act as a nexus of trade between Crimea and Daein.

It would've been most lucrative…if trade between Crimea and Daein ever actually happened.

Following the decimation of the Daein royal bloodline and Crimea and Daein's mutual antipathy once more rising, the small trading post was left to eke out whatever profits it could catering to the herdsmen and fishermen who earned their daily bread in Daein's northerly reaches.

He wasn't certain if it had survived the Goddess War, but even if it hadn't, he knew it was fairly close to a town. He decided either would be his next stop for the night.

"No one there should recognize me either," Jerec remembered. "I never really did go to towns on the outskirts of the country growing up. I either stayed home or passed right by them during my missions."

Though he doubted he would be recognized, Jerec did find himself wondering if there was any way he could rent a warm place to sleep for the night. Since he never expected to set foot in Daein again, he was poorly equipped to sleep out of doors during the colder months while in Daein's ever-chilly borders. What's more, he barely had two coins to rub together, so buying heavier clothing was an unlikely prospect. The lancer supposed he could gamble on finding some animals with pelts, which he could kill and skin to make his own clothing, or possibly finding herbs he could sell or barter for what he needed. Still, that would take time, and the lancer did not relish the idea of staying in Daein any longer than he had to, and not just because of the memories.

Nevassa, Daein's capital, had been Jerec's home most of his life due to Bryce's status as a Rider. It was also where Tauroneo's mansion was located as well, however. Jerec would definitely need to lay low once he reached the city so the townsfolk didn't discover him. He frankly had no way of knowing who knew, or still cared, about his change of heart regarding Ike and the laguz, but he didn't doubt that there were those who those who were…rather unhappy about it.

Within the next few hours, the bridge came into view. A marvel of engineering, it gently rose from the Crimean side, arcing over the water far below, until it alighted well beyond his vision. The span was also wide enough to accommodate several men or wagons travelling abreast and was watched over by the gray bulk of the small keep which guarded the Crimean side. The keep still stood despite having gone through two major battles, but whatever caretakers once lived there had surely fled years before due to the fighting. The vacant keep wasn't without signs of wear either, as some sections of stone were missing and climbing vines embraced its exterior. With the wars over, and even simple trade between the former enemies as remote a prospect as ever, Riven Bridge stood unused, unguarded, forlorn, and forgotten.

Jerec had no time to ponder these sad ironies, nor any hesitation to begin crossing it into Daein. Thankfully, the pit traps used during the battles were no longer there, having been filled in once the war ended to permit safe travel, and then-Queen Elincia had hoped for an eventual mending of fences between the nations of northern Tellius. During the Mad King's War, with the conflict slowly turning against them, Daein had sought to thwart Ike's counter-invasion by littering River Bridge with pit traps in hopes of disrupting and funneling the Crimean advance, making them easy targets for their archers, mages, and siege engines. Yet, once again Ike and his army still managed to overcome them and win the day, achieving yet another stunning victory which showed how much of a leader he had grown into in so short a time.

As he reached the other side, Jerec halted, trepidation filling him at the sight of the once familiar threshold. After all, he had been quite determined to leave Daein behind him years before and yet, with a few more steps, he would once more be on Daein soil. He could see the trading post in the distance, quiet as ever though people milled about, but he didn't continue just yet. Though he'd resolved to return days before, to cross the border he'd once defended in what felt like another life, he hadn't truly been ready for that last step. For a long moment, he could only take in deep breaths and try to come to grips with the fact that he was in his home country for the first time in years. After so much time spent away from Daein, its chill air and forbidding landscape felt strange and even unfamiliar to him, and he imagined its people would seem stranger still. He'd distanced himself so much that, as he'd told Melanie, it didn't feel like home at all anymore. Jerec never realized just how true that statement really was until now, when his former home seemed more foreign and bizarre to him than Altarais might have.

Jerec shook himself out of it moments later, knowing that he couldn't just stand around ruminating all day. He had a journey to complete, and then he had to return to the woman he loved. At that, he resumed his travels and made for the nearby trading post.

As it turned out, the lancer was propelled forward when his stomach began to rumble with hunger, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since the night before. Knowing that he was even more impoverished than usual, he wondered if there was much point in seeking a café or tavern. He had little with which to pay for a meal, and did not relish the time that would be lost skinning or foraging until he had enough to barter with.

Maybe getting on the road without eating wasn't a good idea, he thought. I need to look for a meal fast.

He did have some food in his knapsack. Never very much, since it was all he could carry, but the fare Melanie had helped him procure would prove nourishing. Jerec recalled how she'd insisted on buying some spices and cooking herbs for him, saying they could make almost anything taste delightful, and his eyes stung at the recollection. He shook himself back to attention, deciding he'd best save his own rations for emergencies, though this might actually qualify as one. Regardless, and despite his displeasure at the prospect of such a "meal," he decided to eat a few of the edible roots remaining from his earlier foraging, resolving to save the heartier fare for the long walk to Nevassa.

The dry, bland roots made for joyless dining and barely even blunted his hunger, so, by the time Jerec actually reached the trading post, he was practically starving. Forcing himself to concentrate on something besides his still grumbling stomach, he took stock of his surroundings. That trade between Crimea and Daein never materialized had hit the tiny settlement nearly as hard as two wars had. Even between morning and midday, the streets were sparsely filled and stores and stalls sported more cobwebs than either goods or customers. Though Jerec had never been to this dismal place before, he remained wary, as any one of the few grim faced souls he passed might very well recognize him. Jerec pulled up the hood of his cloak as a precaution, draping it to shadow his face and keeping his gaze fixed on the hard packed dirt road beneath his feet.

Guided as much by his nose as his eyes, he was soon led to a building which, when he cautiously raised his gaze, sported a sign identifying it as the Raven and Rat Inn and Tavern. Though it didn't smell promising, a quick glance between the prices listed below the sign and his coin pouch revealed that he could afford a meal. Barely.

Thanking Ashunera for this small favor, the lancer approached the chipped and weathered door. He paused for a moment, however, when a peculiar sound reached his ears. It almost sounded like a voice, though any words that were spoken reached him only as distant, unintelligible echoes. Yet, somehow, they worked a strange magic on him. Here, in this dismal huddle of half-empty, half-ruined shops, his stomach and purse empty as well and with the threat of discovery looming over him just as ominously as before, he somehow felt as though his anxieties, deep and many they might be, ebb slightly. No less bizarre, he sensed eyes on him, but where once such a sensation set his nerves on edge, he instead felt a curious warmth suffuse him.

And as if that wasn't strange enough, the sense of eyes upon him felt somehow familiar and even caused him to turn and search for whatever or whoever might be watching him. Yet, though his eyes darted about enough to attract some strange looks, he could not find whatever had stolen over him. The sounds yet persisted, though no words he could decipher reached the lancer's ears. But curiously, the sensation that something or someone was watching him, and the no less bizarre sense that whatever it was meant him no harm, grew stronger which each passing moment.

Perplexed, but somehow lightened, Jerec had been about to turn and enter the Raven and Rat when the sounds, finally, resolved into a voice.

In fact, it was a voice he knew all too well.

"Hey! WAIT!" a familiar female voice shouted.

The lancer felt himself go limp with astonishment.

She can't be here. That's impossible!

Stupefied, Jerec turned around, and what he beheld made his lower jaw drop. Running towards him was none other than Melanie. The lancer shook his head, certain she must be some sort of an illusion and not daring to hope otherwise, but that was disproven when a wonderfully warm, plum haired angel crashed into his torso and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She was quite solid too, Jerec only barely kept them both from sprawling to the dirt. For a long, long moment, the lancer could only return her embrace, too bewildered and yet too happy to even guess how she had managed to follow him. Yet, though his mind whirled with questions, the rest of him was almost entranced by the scent of her hair and the strong beat of her heart.

Almost.

She had fortunately chosen not to shout his name for everyone to hear. Even if bystanders had never seen Jerec before, it didn't mean they hadn't heard of him. Still, though most of the ever frustrated folk of this dreary trading post didn't spare the couple a second glance, the lancer did spy an eyebrow or two arching at their display. He was glad Melanie had the presence of mind to not blow his cover, but her foresight would be wasted if they attracted too many curious eyes.

"Jerec!" she blubbered, thankfully too soft for anyone to hear but underscoring his train of thought nonetheless. "Oh, Jerec!"

"Mel?!" was all that could come out of Jerec's mouth as he returned her hug. "What in the—?!"

"Jerec, I-I had to come!" Melanie insisted.

"…Hold on."

Afraid that his cover might end up being blown now anyway, Jerec quickly pulled Melanie aside, around the corner of the Raven and Rat to a back alley. Littered with trade goods that had rotted long before any potential buyers had materialized, the stench was dreadful and whatever it was they had to say to each other, their only likely audience would be half of the inn's namesake creatures as they munched on the refuse. Though ducking into this foul smelling corner ensured that not many would see or hear them, it also drove home the point that, whatever Melanie had left behind or fled from to chase after Jerec, the destination was no improvement.

Would it be better if he were to turn her back? The temptation was potent, but the thought was battered aside when he noticed one side of Melanie's face bruising up in purple and blue colors after she'd been struck by Raphael.

"…Whoa, that bruise is looking pretty bad. I'll have to get you some ice for it later. But Mel, I'm sorry to bombard you with questions, but what are you doing here? How did you get here? And did you really follow me all this way by yourself?!" Jerec blurted, unable to keep a hint of chastisement from his tone.

"Jerec, like I said, I had to find you! I still love you and couldn't bear to see you go," Melanie choked out, her glassy eyes making Jerec tremble. "When you and I first met, I was a prisoner in my own home. Everyone believed I would marry Raphael and that we'd live a long and happy life, and I just didn't have the heart to tell them I couldn't go through with it. Day after day, I pined for a way out, for someone I could trust with the truth of myself."

Here, she paused and in spite of their squalid surroundings, she smiled. It was a small smile, one as much of weariness as happiness, but Jerec couldn't help but be reminded of just why he'd habitually dubbed her an angel.

"And then, I met you," she continued. "You gave me the courage to stand up for myself and make my own decisions, regardless of what my parents or Raphael think. I may owe them much, but I can't sacrifice my own happiness for them. So I left. I remembered you telling me where you were going and traveled to the Riven Bridge. I knew you would have to cross it to get back to Daein, and I swore I'd catch up to you, even if I had to go on foot."

As she'd spoken, Jerec had produced a leather flask which, once upon a time, had continued a Vulnerary and with hands that trembled at each of Melanie's words, he clumsily scooped snow into the flask and handed it to her.

"Here," he said numbly, awestruck by her words. "This will reduce the swelling."

"Thank you," she said, gratefully pressing the leather to her eye. "My face does still hurt…"

As her words trailed off, Jerec was more than astonished. She'd gone all that way on her own, through a land half-devoured by banditry, leaving behind her home and family, all for him. He wasn't sure if this was an act of loving devotion or utter insanity.

For a long moment, he could not speak. The suddenness of it all had his tongue tied in knots and his mind was more awhirl now than before she'd explained her pursuit. It was true, he had wanted to go back for her, that he'd even hoped that she might find some way to catch up to him. Yet now, with that guarded hope suddenly taking shape and barreling into the waking world, the knowledge of the danger Melanie had placed herself in roared to forefront of his mind.

Now, on top of the grim prospect of her dying on the blade of a brigand or from the slow torture of starvation, there was the all too real chance she might be unmasked.

By following him all this way, she may have signed her own death warrant.

"Anyway, I…I see," Jerec rasped out, all too aware of just how small those words were, "but Mel, think about what you're saying! What about your family? It might not be too late for you to go home—"

"Go home to what?" Melanie interrupted, her expression hardening. "My parents? As far as they're concerned, I just spat on the graves of all my aunts, uncles, and cousins. To my neighbors, who all think I've betrayed them? Raphael? Even if he did take me back, I still don't love him."

Here, she paused and cupped his face with her hands.

"I have nowhere else to go…" she said simply, but without even a hint of blame or regret. "And nowhere else I'd rather be."

"I…" Jerec blurted, stunned at what he was hearing. "But you could've been killed trying to follow me. By Ashunera's underwear, I can't figure out how you managed it! And look where we are! You're in danger here!" Jerec pointed out. "If anyone here finds out your heritage, it could be over for us! I'm already branded a traitor by most Daeins and you're a Crimean. Besides, don't you remember what I told you back in Rivertown? Wandering every which where, hunting and foraging for every meal, sleeping out in the cold more often than not, the chance of being discovered looming at all hours. That's what I have to live through every day. And I don't want that for you at all. I love you."

"I know, Jerec…" Melanie replied. "And honestly, it does hurt that I had to leave Raphael and my family. But I didn't know what else to do. They wouldn't listen when I tried to reason with them. Nobody would. And that's not the half of it. My father was furious, he kept going on and on about how much he wanted you dead!"

"What?! Your parents would resort to that?! But—"

Jerec had been about to ask "why," but the answer struck him like a blow to the face. After all, Marv had lost his nearly his entire family to Ashnard during the Mad King's War. Jerec had never had a sibling, his present family matters notwithstanding, but a late night chat with Rolf had painted quite a vivid picture of just how much the young archer had been terrified by even the concept of losing one or even both of his brothers.

How much different might Rolf be today if those fears had been realized?

What's more, it was clear that Marv, for whatever reason, had had no closure after losing so much of his family. Now, with one of the Daeins, the very people he blamed for costing him so much, nearly within his grasp, how far might he be willing to go to get revenge for the many loved ones who'd been snatched away from him?

Probably about as far as I went with Ike, charging at him in the middle of a campaign when he saw me coming, Jerec reflected, less-than-heartened by the disturbingly apt comparison.

"I don't want to think he'd do it, I don't want to think any of them could…" Melanie rasped, fearful sobs choking her words. "But they were all so furious and wished someone would punish you for "stealing" me."

Perhaps the sheer shock that Melanie had chosen to follow him, and that she'd done so unharmed, was still too overwhelming. Or, maybe he found it impossible to believe that she was talking about the same man who never left the house without telling his wife and daughter how much he loved them in case he didn't make it home. Whatever the reason, it was only a glance at Melanie's face that undid Jerec's denial.

Melanie was a young woman of steady nerves and uncommon courage. She had to be in order to venture out of her home, in the middle of a bandit raid, to tend to Jerec and Heime, both of whom had been horrifically injured. And she'd done all that with only a handful of bandages and a few minutes of hastily given instructions to work with.

Melanie did not frighten easily, and Jerec's proof was in his pulse, yet in relaying her father's anger and the belief he'd seek revenge, she seemed terrified.

"Damn… I can't believe it myself. Your parents at least seemed like good people. Sure, I could see they hated Daein, but I understood that. Hell, I felt the same way about Ike when I first met him. But do you really think he'd follow me all the way here? He'd be taking at least as much a risk as you, and he has a wife to think of."

"I hope he doesn't, it would kill Mother to lose him," Melanie answered, but her eyes darted away from his. "But Father's not the only one. Raphael was with us at the time. He was angry and humiliated over what happened, and I was afraid he might…"

She trailed off there and despite her protestations that she'd made her choice, there was no hiding the conflict in her eyes at the prospect of two men she cared for coming to blows again. With an effort, Melanie shook herself from her reverie and went on.

"Raphael has had some combat training," she said. "He always said he wanted to surprise me with his skills someday, but all the troubles back…back in Rivertown kept getting in the way. I know he must have some skill, because his parents and mine agreed that at least one of us should know how to fight in the event that we'd have to defend ourselves, and Father said he was quite impressive. He left before I did. He was all in a spitting rage and he might've taken my parents' words the wrong way. He started talking about "waiting by the snare", and I took that to mean he might've gone to get a weapon in anticipation that you might come back for me."

"…I was actually planning to do that," Jerec revealed, startled by the revelation. "He's smart."

"You're wonderful," Melanie complimented with a small smile. "I knew you would. But yes, Raphael is a clever man. I don't know if he'd chase you all the way here, but I knew I had to warn you and that I might never get another chance to go after you."

"Hm, that does make sense. We'll see, I suppose."

"Indeed…"

Another stretching second followed as Jerec once more found himself embroiled in confusion. He didn't want to lose Melanie. Quite the opposite, in fact, for his heart leapt at the realization that she was here and still loved him in spite of everything. Yet, he also knew that the danger to her would grow every step she took with him on his journey. Taking her back to Rivertown would be a fool's errand if the townsfolk were expecting him to return, and turning back at all might very well mean running headlong into pursuers. Raphael might eventually tire of waiting and could've had the presence of mind to remember just where Jerec said he would be going when he'd overheard the two lovers. Finding a way to get Melanie to the comparative safety of the Greil Mercenaries was tempting, but it would take far too much time. Could Tauroneo's household protect her? The old general surely would, but what if his servants had different ideas?

The lancer had no answers, and yet when he faced Melanie once more, those grim questions were wiped away by the radiance of her smile and adoration in her eyes. Though he already knew she had chosen to be with him, in spite of everything that entailed, he was no less amazed. He might've tried to put into words what that meant to him, what she meant to him, but she silenced him when she lunged forward and captured his lips with her own.

"I still wish you hadn't come, but you're here," Jerec whispered as he briefly drew back before leaning in to lavish her neck. "And it's too dangerous to send you back. I'll have to keep you with me so you'll be safe. But we'll also have to avoid attracting too much attention to ourselves. A lot of people here didn't appreciate my change of heart, and you're a Crimean. One wrong move would mean the end for us both."

"Right, I will be careful," Melanie ironically promised between lusty moans.

"Good. But…"

"Hm?"

"I know I shouldn't let you stay, that I should find a way to send you someplace safe, if I actually knew where that might be. But I…am happy to see you again."

"Oh, Jerec, me too!"

At this, their lips met once more. Melanie leaned against a wall, filthy from neglect, wrapping her arms around Jerec's shoulders as she drew him in, reveling in the sensation of his broad, muscular form pressing against her. Jerec, his own mind clouded with desire, thrust his tongue past the threshold of their melded lips, probing the inside of her mouth with a building intensity. It might've gone further than that, too far, in fact, if the pair wasn't suddenly roused by the sound of chuckling coming from behind them.

The pair sprang apart and whirled to see a soldier, a bit younger than Jerec though his eyes were much older than the rest of his face. The lancer, however, was far more preoccupied with the rather…compromising position they'd been found in.

Is this what Ike went through with Elincia? he wondered, somewhat shaken at how he'd lost control. Another minute and…

"Not exactly the first place that springs to mind when I want to get busy with a lady," the soldier said with a snicker.

Though there was nary a hint of maliciousness in the soldier's tone, his words served to drive home just how little Jerec had to offer Melanie. She may have had faith in him, but it was hard to share that conviction with the knowledge that she'd left a comfortable home and a supportive family to follow him to a rubbish strewn corner of a decrepit trading post in a country that would happily hang both of them. Something of his displeasure must've shown on the lancer's face, for the soldier's expression softened a bit, almost as though he understood Jerec's frustration…

…though, hopefully he didn't understand it too well.

"Best you could do, under the circumstances?" he wondered, with a hint of empathy.

Perhaps he'd assumed that Jerec and Melanie were a pair of impoverished youths, surely a common enough sight after Daein's defeat in the Mad King's War and the Begnion occupation. The soldier didn't look familiar to Jerec and thankfully didn't seem to recognize him due to the shadows cast by the buildings.

All he saw was a pair of amorous but impoverished vagrants…which, Jerec reflected sadly, wasn't far from the truth. Still, perhaps the soldier had been in that same place not long ago, for understanding shone on his features and to Jerec's astonishment, he fished out an iron key and tossed it to the lancer.

"What's this?" Jerec wondered, deliberately adding a lisp to his voice as a precaution.

"The key to my room at the Raven and Rat," the soldier answered. "The timetable on my orders was moved up and I have to set out at once, but that raggedy arse of an innkeeper wouldn't refund my last day. Since the bed and board between now and tomorrow morning has already been paid for, might as well go to someone who needs it.

"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly—" Jerec sputtered, so astonished by this generosity that he nearly forgot to disguise his voice.

"I insist!" the soldier affirmed, and then his tone took on a sly edge. "Now, how about you take your lady someplace a bit cleaner and show her a good time."

With that, the soldier winked and walked off. Once he was gone, Jerec, through sheer force of will, managed to meet Melanie's gaze, his face red as a beet.

Melanie didn't look much better, her cheeks going pink as well after hearing the overly candid soldier's words…and pondering the unsettling images they conjured.

"A bit forward, but he seemed nice enough!" Melanie noticed, a hint of smugness in her words. "I knew there were good people here!"

"To be honest, that came as a bit of a surprise to me too," Jerec admitted. "Daeins have always valued strength and self-reliance, so someone going out of their way to help a pair of vagrants is a bit uncommon outside of the clergy. I can't say I'm complaining, though. He likely just ensured we'd have a roof over our heads tonight."

"So, Daein is different that you remember?"

"Something's changed, I just found that out, but I've only been here an hour. Might be a while before I really know. As for Daein, I do remember them being a hard-nosed bunch. Hatred for…certain outsiders might run deep in a lot of places, but amongst themselves, the Daeins can be kind and generous when they want to. But they're a hot-blooded bunch. They have to be to survive in a land like this, especially after the wars, but it comes at a cost. They're rash and quick to blame others for their problems, which is part of the reason I left. Many of them aren't very open-minded either, I learned that the hard way. I've always hoped this would change…at least a little bit. And maybe it has? I don't know."

"I see… I hope so too."

Before Jerec could say anything else, his stomach grumbled thunderously. Melanie couldn't help but giggle.

"Sounds like someone's hungry!" she said.

"Eh heh, yeah… I actually haven't eaten much since I woke this morning," Jerec admitted.

"What? That's foolish! Jerec, you should've eaten! Let's go get a meal right now."

"Oh, of course. That's what I was doing before you found me."

"…Ah, sorry about that."

With that, the two left the alley and proceeded to the Raven and Rat. Jerec pulled his hood back up again as they went inside, praying to Ashunera that he wouldn't be recognized. Though the unexpected charity had him wondering just whether this was the same country he'd left behind so long ago, he was reluctant to risk Melanie for the sake of his curiosity. Word of his change of heart had incensed quite a few, and both he and Melanie would be in dire peril if they ran afoul of any of the people that hated him for leaving. Jerec easily remembered how harshly the Daeins took his departure when he first left. Many of them called him a traitor or a deserter, but also heaped on such vitriol like "disgrace to your father" and "sub-human loving scum." The former had hurt the most, though Jerec had wondered sometimes if his father would've approved at what he'd done. At times, he believed that Bryce was more likely to have accepted it. He hadn't been like many other Daeins, and according to Ike, he'd been an honorable and worthy opponent.

Jerec doubted that Bryce would've approved of the hatred towards Ike and Crimea which had become so pervasive after the wars. And though his father's death still pained him and he pined for Bryce's wisdom now more than ever, he also knew that his father was the last person who would've wanted his son wallowing in grief when there was so much riding on Jerec's young shoulders.

Right now, all he and Melanie had to rely upon was each other, and that would have to be enough.

The Raven and Rat Inn and Tavern was everything Jerec had expected…

…which, unfortunately, wasn't much.

Though it had likely once been a pristine establishment, it had clearly gone downhill when Ashnard's pre-war decrees had crushed any chance of travelling merchants crossing its doorstep. Now, it was little more than a foul smelling watering hole beneath a foul looking flophouse.

If I was that soldier, I'd have checked a day early too, Jerec mused.

Still, Jerec supposed this place was at least a step up from bedding down outdoors during Daein's cold nights. The innkeeper, who lived up to Jerec's unflattering expectations, let them into the tavern once they showed him the key, though both could sense his hostile gaze upon them and the promise that overstaying their welcome invited violence.

"I can think of worse places than this for a first date, but not many," Jerec admitted unhappily as they found their table.

"Well then, it's a good thing this isn't our first date," Melanie replied.

It took Jerec a moment to realize she'd been talking about sharing lunch in Rivertown, when Jerec had belatedly realized the true depths of his growing attraction for Melanie and why her engagement to Raphael galled him so. Still, recalling their chatty waiter having sniffed out the truth and how he'd teased them over it tugged at the corners of Jerec's mouth.

"That's more like it," Melanie opined, a grin dawning on her face as well. "It's good to see you loosen up a bit."

"Not an easy thing to do," the lancer admitted, laying one hand atop hers. "But it does help to have the right company."

As the words passed his lips, he was struck by the truth behind them. Melanie's arrival did mean that they were both in greater danger, and yet he somehow felt better knowing that she was there and that their uncertain future hadn't changed the way she felt about him. Indeed, he wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't come or if she'd changed her mind. And yet, even slogging through the refuse of this decrepit slum hadn't made her reconsider her choice to remain at his side.

Apparently, Melanie was made of sterner stuff than some stray garbage. And her iron will drew him in every bit as much as the entrancing pools of dark liquid coral staring back at him.

"Are you listening to me?" she said, sounding a bit put out.

"Oh!" Jerec spluttered. "Sorry. I was…well…"

Melanie must've guessed the words what were caught in his throat, for she glanced away and flushed slightly. Well acquainted with Melanie as a strong and independent woman, the sight of her bashfulness brought a chuckle to the lancer's lips, though this was promptly choked away when Melanie fixed him with a credible imitation of a glare.

"Okay, okay!" Jerec said hurriedly, holding up both hands defensively. "I'm sorry. So you were saying?"

"Well, before you started leering at me," Melanie began, though an illicit giggle escaped her, "I asked where we're going next."

"Well," Jerec began, once the tightness in his throat had faded. "For now, we need to reach General Tauroneo. His mansion is in Nevassa, Daein's capital, and we'll need at least a few days to get there. During that journey, I'd best show you a few tricks I've learned that'll help keep us alive. While I was with the army, I was trained to hunt, forage, fish, and other skills to survive out in the wilderness, so I'd be able to survive if I was separated from my unit or if we were cut off from supply lines. That's what kept me alive even though I haven't had a home since just after the Mad King's War. So, if you're going to stay with me, you'll need to learn."

"I can handle it. Besides, I've been told I can spear a tasty boar."

"Hope you've stayed in practice. Anyway, there is one thing we ought to consider. I do know that Tauroneo has my next lead to finding my half-brother. Or half-sister, he didn't say which. But I have no idea where I'll need to go next or how long it will take. And it'll be much harder to travel unnoticed in Nevassa. I had been thinking that it might be best if you stayed with Tauroneo and-"

Whatever else Jerec had been about to say was lost when Melanie snatched him by the wrist with astonishing strength.

"Not. A. Chance," she intoned, her words knife-edged.

"Please, hear me out," the lancer insisted, wincing slightly when Melanie squeezed his wrist. Hard. "There's no way of knowing how long it'll take me to track down my half-sibling. Even if Tauroneo can tell me where he or she is, it might take days or even weeks to get there. I'd feel better knowing you were someplace safe, in case…anything went wrong. Besides, I'd trust Tauroneo to keep you safe as much as I'd trust Ike."

"I'm sure he appreciates the vote of confidence, but there's no way in hell that I'm letting you leave me behind again. I don't care about the risks and dangers, I decided that much when I chose to follow you, and I want to see this through to the end."

Here, Melanie paused and her glaring eyes misted slightly.

"After you were run out of Rivertown, I had no idea if I'd ever see you again," she went on, her words so soft Jerec had to lean in to hear them. "I couldn't bear going through that again. I love you."

The lancer had half a mind to insist, but the rest of him was touched by her words. Besides, if she'd managed to trail him all the way over the border, maybe she could handle herself during the search. He did have a great deal to teach her, and only so much time to do it, but just as he had gambled that she could accept him in spite of his past, maybe he should take the chance that she was up to the challenge.

"I suppose if I refuse, you'll just track me down again?" he guessed.

"Why, you are learning!" Melanie jested in reply.

"Alright, fine. But no complaining once we get going. Whatever bed you're sleeping in here might be the last you'll have for days, and I doubt it'll impress."

The fare certainly didn't, for at that moment, a dour-faced waiter delivered the pair two bowls of stew.

Jerec didn't know what kind of stew it was, and he frankly didn't want to know.

At Melanie's suggestion, he added in a pinch of the spices she'd insisted on buying him back in Rivertown and to his amazement, the heady granules caused the fare to go from revolting to tolerable. Still, Jerec's chivalrous side was tied in knots when the pair belatedly discovered that the room they were expected to share had only one bed. The lancer had been about to suggest he take a blanket and try to find a section of the tattered rug that wasn't moth-eaten, but Melanie wouldn't have that.

"There's no sense in you waking up sore and tired when we have such a long journey ahead," she pointed out. "Besides, slogging through the wilderness seems an odd place to be worrying about propriety."

When Jerec's only reply was a nervous tugging at his collar, Melanie shook her head in nigh-comical frustration.

"Oh, fine!" she pouted. "Let's try this."

So saying, she pulled aside the two sheets and the blanket and climbed in, then she pulled aside the upper sheet and blanket, inviting Jerec in but keeping a layer between them. Noting Jerec's surprise, she rolled her eyes and snickered.

"And people say men are the practical sex," she groused. "Just get over here and try to get some sleep. There's still a barrier between us, and I trust you not to go too far."

That makes one of us, Jerec mused. And "practical sex"? That choice of words has to be incidental. It has to be, right? Right?!

Somehow, Jerec forced himself to climb into bed, though sleep was just about the last thing on his mind…in more ways than one.

Was this what Ike had gone through with Elincia, his desire for the woman he loved warring with the knowledge that losing control could have terrible consequences? Granted, Melanie was no unlikely queen who might be toppled from her throne by a scandal, but both of them had much they could lose if he gave into the gleam of her eyes, the scent of her plum hair, and the supple curves of her lithe form.

He remembered how he'd been swept away by her in that filthy alcove and now, with her so enticingly close, the sheet separating them seemed a flimsy barrier indeed. Still, though Jerec's customary reserve was strained to the limit, he did not truly regret that she was here. Though Melanie, likely more weary from her journey than she let on, kissed Jerec good night and dropped off to sleep, the lancer remained awake for some time, mesmerized by how her hair caught the moonlight and the swell of her breasts as she drew breath.

At long last, he was no longer alone. And however long it might take, he would make sure that the future she'd decided to pursue at his side would be a happy one.

Jerec still didn't know how he'd managed to fall asleep with his heart pounding with desire for Melanie, but he must have…

…or at least, that was what Melanie had claimed when she resorted to pinching his nose shut to rouse him the next morning.

"You could've just called out, or shaken me," he pointed out, still short of breath from his near-suffocation.

"I did try that…for ten minutes," Melanie retorted. "I swear, you sleep like a rock. I was going to try dumping snow over your head next."

The lancer couldn't help but blush, though the crimson in his cheeks deepened when Melanie turned to the window and began to admire the snow beyond.

The only nightdress she'd packed didn't cover much of the back, and it pulled rather tight about her shapely buttocks.

"We never get this much snow in Rivertown," she gushed, sounding as young as she truly was. "It's so beautiful out there."

"Trust me, the novelty will wear off if you're caught out of doors and end up freezing your butt off…" Jerec replied, mortified as he belatedly realized just what he'd said. "Er…I mean…"

Melanie, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, turned and strode towards her blushing lover, exaggerating her stride so that her sculpted legs peeked out as she approached.

"And here I thought you were such a gentleman," she quipped teasingly, adding a sway to her hips that caused some very ungentlemanly thoughts to cross Jerec's mind.

Once Melanie had laid a hand on each of his shoulders and leaned in for a kiss, Jerec's better judgment was straining to hold him back from doing something they might both regret. Thankfully, Melanie seemed to understand the effect she had on him, even if she did seem to enjoy it, and quickly vanished behind a dressing screen to get changed.

"We'd best not waste any time," the lancer choked out, deliberately averting his gaze from the sight of the disrobing silhouette. "I don't like the looks of that innkeeper, and the snow will likely get heavier as the day goes on."

"It does look pretty chilly outside," Melanie replied. "I guess you're right."

"Uh huh. I hope you brought warm clothes."

"I actually did, mostly without even thinking because…well, I had certain other things on my mind. Hee hee."

"Of course you did," Jerec replied, playfully rolling his eyes.

"Oh stop it," Melanie retorted with a chuckle. "But it's lucky I have warm things to wear. I'd hate to force you to delay your trip again just to help me get proper clothes."

Once Melanie was dressed, the couple quickly took stock of their supplies. Apart from Jerec's lance, armor, and supply of food, he also had a set of carving knifes for making improvised tools, as well as skinning and carving whatever he caught after a day's hunting, as well as some simple fishing gear, some snares, a bundle of kindling, a cloak, and several waterskins. Apart from a few heavier dresses and her nightwear, Melanie luckily had the presence of mind to take a lantern, a flask of oil, some provisions, a set of cutlery, a pair of heavy boots, one of her father's cloaks, which was so baggy on her frame that she might've been wearing a tent, a slingshot, and some rocks.

"You're not likely to kill anything bigger than a bird or rabbit with those," Jerec said as he pointed to the modest weapons. "Still, every little bit helps. You a good shot?"

"I used to shoot everything that moved with that thing when I was a little kid," Melanie remarked, a whiff of nostalgia in her tone. "It drove my parents up the wall, so they forbade me from using it...not that it stopped me from shooting at the livestock when no one was looking."

"And you've been saying I'm the naughty one. Still, this should keep us for a bit. I can teach you how to get more while we're on the road. So, let's get going."

As the pair gratefully left the trading post, Jerec lost no time in teaching Melanie every trick he knew. He taught her how to fashion a hunting spear, bow, and arrows by selecting the right wood, carving it, and then "baking" it over a fire to harden the wood so that it would kill her chosen prey. He also taught her how to identify wild fruits, berries, nuts, and mushrooms, how to gauge if they were ready to be harvested and whether they were safe to eat. Having grown up around livestock, farmers, and fishermen, she already knew how to fish and to carve the creatures she brought to the fire, as well as how to smoke the meat so it would keep longer. She'd quickly figured out how to use her slingshot to bring down smaller creatures like squirrels and birds, though she made a point of ignoring rabbits. Even knowing Melanie was a quick study, Jerec was amazed.

"Wow," the lancer murmured as he watched Melanie prove her claim about being a skilled boar hunter. "I knew you were a fast learner, but you are incredible."

"Why, thank you," Melanie replied as she began carving the beast. "Still, it does help to have such a good teacher."

"Don't sell yourself short. Back in the army, it took me two weeks before I brought back anything worth eating, and you just needed a few hours. Not to mention that boar looks like it'll be delicious! Where have you been all my life?"

Despite the inevitable ribbing about the best way to a man's heart being his stomach, Melanie's face took on a faraway expression. Jerec had been about to retract the question, but she silenced him with an upraised palm.

"Remember the books in the guest room, back…at my parent's house?" she said.

Jerec nodded, though he was all too conscious of how she'd been avoiding using the word "home" whenever Rivertown came up.

"Well, some of those books were about hunting, foraging, fishing, and such," she went on. "My uncles all loved tromping through the woods when they'd had too much of city folk and needed to get away from it all. I never got to go with them, but they always left behind some of the books they'd studied. When I realized I might have to do something...drastic to get out of marrying Raphael, I began reading them. I hadn't gone through with it until now. I guess having something to run from wasn't enough by itself."

Here, she paused and regarded Jerec with a smile that gleamed like snow under the sun's rays.

"I guess what I really needed was something to run to...or with," she said happily.

"I know what you mean," Jerec admitted, his heart aglow that she didn't hold their circumstances against him. "Well, sort of. I'm not sure if it was a dream or a visitation or whatever. But after I was wounded, before I woke up, I saw a laguz shaman who I'd met while helping Ike hunt for Ettard. Well, while I was trying to help him, anyway."

Despite Melanie giggling at his self-deprecation, Jerec smiled and continued.

"It was strange. Do you remember how, in the Goddess War, it was autumn one moment and then winter the next? And how you felt very, very stiff?" At Melanie's surprised nod, he continued. "While I was with the Greil Mercenaries, just before coming to Rivertown, they told me what that was about. They said nearly all of Tellius' people had been turned to stone. I think I saw what that must've looked like, because I was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of statues, all of beorc and laguz, frozen in the middle of a battle."

"That's incredible!" Melanie gasped out. "How does this shaman fit in, though?"

"Apparently, she chanced upon my dream while she was meditating. She either let herself in or was pulled in. Either way, I was glad for a familiar face. It took me a while to understand why, but being the only person left after everyone else had turned to stone? I swear, I can't even remember being more frightened."

Here, he paused and regarded Melanie with earnest adoration.

"I'd thought I was inured to how solitary a life I led," he continued. "But being there, whether it was what really happened or just a metaphor my brain came up with after losing all that blood, proved me wrong. I guess that's part of the reason I became fond of Rivertown in spite of...well, everything. It may sound childish, but I realized how much I missed having friends and neighbors, and I didn't want to be alone anymore."

He'd half expected Melanie to snicker at this. He wouldn't have minded, since her laughter was delightful to the ear, but he was once more surprised when she scooted over to him and laid a hand on his.

"Well, if I have anything to say about it, you'll never be alone again," she affirmed, leaning in to kiss him.

With some mutual reluctance, the pair broke away, roasted the boar, and ate their supper. After their meal, they smoked a portion of the remaining boar meat and then Jerec dragged the carcass a fair distance from their fire so that, hopefully, any predators lurking about would find it more appetizing than the comparatively scrawny beorc.

"So, what is Daein like, really?" Melanie asked after a few moments spent stoking the campfire. "I know what people say about it. These days, who doesn't? But now that we're here, I want to know the truth."

"I'm hoping we won't be here long," Jerec said, perhaps a bit too sharply. "It would probably be best if we finished our mission and then left. I'm not sure where we'd go, but staying here is probably a bad idea."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"You mean besides that we'd likely be hung if anyone realized who we are? Well, I have a lot of bad memories of this place. After my change of heart about Ike and the laguz, I became…rather unpopular. A lot of people said a lot of things you can't just "take back". And I doubt this place has changed much."

Melanie regarded him pensively for a moment, and Jerec got the distinct impression that she was unconvinced.

"What is it?" he asked when his curiosity overwhelmed him.

"You sound pretty sure that Daein hasn't changed," Melanie began. "But you haven't been back here in years. And you saw one big change when that soldier let us have his room at the Raven and Rat."

"Not much of a favor, letting us stay in that pesthole."

"And yet, when you lived here, giving even that much to a pair of vagrants was rare. And there's someone from here who you said you'd trust with my safety the way you'd trust Ike."

"Yeah, just one someone."

"It seems you're as harsh a critic of this place as the people back in Rivertown. I know you have good reasons, but is it so hard to believe this place hasn't changed in the past six years?"

"Frankly, yes, I find that very hard to believe."

"Back then, people said that about peace between the beorc and the laguz."

That rejoinder stilled Jerec's tongue for a moment, but he still nursed cool skepticism that the same people who'd heaped such vitriol on him would be any different. So, more to change the subject than anything else, he decided to offer a more practical answer to Melanie's question.

"At first glance, it can seem rather like Crimea," Jerec began, conscious of the irony behind the words. "You've got your towns and villages, your blacksmiths and merchants, and what-all. There aren't as many farms, at least in the regions we'll be traveling. The only truly arable land is in the southern territories, such as Talrega, where most of the farms used to be."

""Used to be"?" Melanie echoed, perplexed.

"Well, back when the Mad King's War first began, the only real opposition to Ashnard came from Ike and the Greil Mercenaries. Gallia's leadership was sorely divided for much of the war, so they assumed a purely defensive stance while the other laguz nations, either willingly or not, stayed neutral. All that changed when Begnion sided with Ike and the Crimean Liberation Army was formed. That blindsided...well, everybody, I guess. Most of Daein expected Begnion to side with them if the laguz nations rallied to Crimea's defense, which might well explain why the laguz waited until after the counter-invasion was underway before they joined Ike's army. But I digress. Anyhow, since Daein's southern flank was open, and Ike had caused jaws to drop from Sienne to Melior when he took Tor Garen, those Daeins on the homefront became scared and desperate."

"I've seen what that combination can bring about," Melanie added, feelingly.

They both had, so Jerec didn't bother asking her to elaborate. Instead he continued.

"When Ike's army reached Talrega, General Petrine ordered that the floodgates in the area be opened. At best, Ike would've lost a sizable portion of his force if the floodwaters hit them as they were crossing. At worst, they'd be delayed waiting for the water to recede enough for them to press on. It was a desperate move, and caused a lot of contention. The unit of wyvern riders that was stationed there nearly mutinied and the act drove a wedge between the military and the civilians that still persisted when I left."

"What happened next?"

"The same thing that seems to happen damned near every time things are at their worst: Ike and his army saved the day. Well, mostly. Ike managed to close the floodgates, but a lot of harm was done by then. The nearby village, and a huge portion of Daein's arable land, was decimated. I was stationed in Crimea at the time, so this news didn't reach me until later. When I heard, I asked Ike. It really impressed me that he'd go out of his way to help the citizens of a country he was at war with. His unprejudiced heart wouldn't stand for innocents being put in danger. He even offered some food and gold to them, but they refused and practically spat in his face. If more Daeins realized or knew just what he did that day, I'm sure they'd be calling him a hero rather than a villain."

"Oh, wow! Yes, I completely agree."

"I bet. And yet, they still didn't respect him even after he'd routed that tribe of renegade wolf laguz that tried to usurp Daein not long after the war either."

"That's a shame… They just seem to be even more stubborn than the people of Rivertown."

"Yeah, that's for sure. These civilians versus Rivertown? I'd hate for that clash to happen. Might be fun to watch, though."

"Heh, I can also agree on that one."

The pair tossed around a few quips about just what a clash between the hardnosed Daeins and the stiff necked folk of Rivertown would look like, their suppositions growing steadily more ridiculous until, after one about a staring contest dragging on for over a week, the lancer sobered slightly.

"It's kind of ironic, how similar they sound when we talk about them like this," he remarked. "I wonder if that's why Rivertown grew on me so much, because it reminded me of home. And what home could've been if things were a bit…different."

"Why, Jerec," Melanie chimed, as though she'd scored some victory, "is that something like homesickness I hear from you?"

"Okay, laugh it up. Still, I'll admit that the Daein people have a lot of drive and dedication. A thirst to excel. I know, because I was the same...and still am, to an extent. But there are days I wish all that drive, and all those lives, weren't so badly spent."

"I understand. And I'll admit, part of me is still angry about what Daein did to my family. But I just can't bring myself to blame every last one of them, not when I have proof right in front of me that there are good Daeins out there."

Jerec hoped that the firelight might disguise how he blushed at her praise, but Melanie's giggling promptly told him otherwise.

"Well, getting back to what we were talking about earlier," the lancer continued. "There just might be Daeins around that aren't bad people and just want to get on with their lives. Most of them didn't have much to do with the wars, though. Not everyone who contributes does so from the front lines, after all."

"Yeah, that's true," Melanie replied, and Jerec found himself curious as to how she'd passed the wars. "And I bet some of them didn't support the invasion of Crimea."

"Oh, that's for sure, especially after the war. Some folks wondered what good it would do them, and then when the war was lost…well, you know."

"Yeah…"

The two lapsed into a stretching silence until, perhaps coaxed by Melanie's interest in dissecting Jerec's stormy history with his former homeland and her conviction that Daein had its redeeming qualities, the lancer found himself blurting out more.

"It still doesn't make sense to me," he admitted, somehow not surprised that Melanie almost seemed to be expecting these words. "Daein fighting against the Begnion occupation made perfect sense to me. Heck, part of me wondered if Daein might become a better place afterwards. But Daein turning around and siding with Begnion? I still can't wrap my head around it. The best theory I came up with was that Begnion viewed the consolidation of the laguz nations and their budding alliance with the "colony" of Crimea as a threat to their power and decided that they'd rather have a partner in Daein instead of another enemy. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," and all that."

"Do you really believe that?" Melanie asked, her tone suggesting she didn't. "That Begnion had bigger fish to fry and Daein was just up to their old tricks?"

"Honestly? That's all I ever came up with, and even that theory has a few holes."

"Maybe while you're here, you should ask."

"Just…like that?"

"This friend of yours, General Tauroneo, sounds like someone who's likely to know. In fact, I'm surprised you haven't asked him already. The Goddess War has been over for more than a year. Even if you didn't want to come back here, couldn't you have written him?"

"Well…"

Here, Jerec paused and he let out a heavy sigh.

"Actually, that letter from him that started this whole errand?" he began. "Well, that's the first time we've contacted each other since the Mad King's War. Since then, I haven't written or spoken to him in over five years."

"What? Why not? Didn't you say he was a friend of your family?" Melanie reminded, her brow furrowed with concern.

"He was. Still is, I hope. But…during the Mad King's War, he defected to Crimea. I learned this just before I was sent to petition Crimea for help against the wolves. I was...well, I was a different man back then, and I was angry. I didn't bother asking for his side of the story, I just felt so betrayed. Even after I met Ike, and I began to wonder if Tauroneo had good reasons, I couldn't bring myself to face him. I said some harsh things about his decision. Not to his face, but I'd be surprised if he didn't find out anyway."

Reminded of yet another example of his past shortcomings, the lancer inwardly fumed at his own foolishness. Before he could sink too far into his grim reverie, Melanie cupped his cheek with one hand and titled his gaze to meet her eyes. For what felt like the thousandth time, the expected reproach in those coral orbs was nowhere to be seen and with an indrawn breath, he stifled the voice of regret and pressed on.

"Well, like I said, I never got Tauroneo's side of the story," Jerec admitted. "Maybe I should when I see him. I hadn't really taken the time to think over why he'd joined Crimea and then Begnion. But now, I'm curious about him and the others."

""Others?"" Melanie echoed, the barest trace of smugness seeping into her tone. "What others?"

"Well, there were other Daeins who'd joined Ike during the Mad King's War. You've probably heard of the Dawn Brigade. Well, many of their members are those same Daeins. Besides Tauroneo, there's the wyvern rider Jill, the myrmidon Zihark, the mage Ilyana, and Prince Consort Sothe. Well, he wasn't Prince Consort at the time, but still…"

When he saw Melanie's grin broaden and her smugness became as palpable as the greasy aroma of the roasted boar, Jerec's faded to a credible imitation of a resigned sigh.

But it was only an imitation.

He wasn't sure why, but her delight at evidence that she was right, that there were good Daeins, was strangely contagious. And whether he was coming around to her line of thinking or simply enjoyed seeing her happy, Jerec was well and truly infected.

"Okay, go ahead and say it," he said tonelessly.

"Say what?" Melanie asked, her feigned innocence making her sound childlike.

"What you've probably wanted to say ever since you learned I wasn't the only "good Daein" in the world," Jerec replied, raising his voice to a high and exaggerated effeminate pitch. ""Oh, I knew it! There are good Daeins. Jerec knows of a whole bunch of them! Vindication! Vindication, I say!""

"I don't sound like that!" Melanie spluttered, sounding almost affronted. Almost.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do—"

Jerec's last rejoinder was cut off when Melanie flung a handful of snow into his face, but the lancer merely burst into laughter at the normally composed Melanie's pinched expression.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is in a good mood," she said huffily. "You are an uncouth man to tease me so, and just for that, I'm calling dibs on the belly cuts."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Jerec replied, though he likely sounded anything but. "Anyhow, like I said, we'll be meeting General Tauroneo at his mansion in Nevassa."

"Could you tell me about him, Jerec? I'll be meeting this person too, I suppose, so I'm interested in knowing what he's like. Especially if you trust him so much."

"Heh, fair enough. Tauroneo actually used to be one of Daein's Four Riders as well."

"Wow, another Rider? You sure know some people! Hobnobbing with Riders, fighting alongside the Greil Mercenaries, rubbing elbows with a monarch or two."

"Rubbing elbows? If you're talking about Elincia, it felt more like I was chaperoning her and Ike. I swear, those two are a sweet couple, but making sure they're doing the mission instead of each other felt like a full time job. And if you meant Sothe and Micaiah, they weren't prince consort and queen back then. And they were trying to kill me."

"Oh, stop complaining," Melanie chastised jokingly. "But I don't remember Tauroneo being one of the four mentioned during the Mad King's War."

"That's because he wasn't. Ashnard didn't think he deserved to keep the title, the scum," Jerec uttered angrily. "The Riders changed based on who Ashnard considered his most impressive soldiers, and Tauroneo was removed in favor of one of the Riders from the war. I think it might've been Sir Bertram, but I'm not sure. That riled me up, because Tauroneo was like a second father to me. And since he and my father were both Riders and good friends, it was reassuring to know they had each other's backs."

Jerec felt a hint of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he recalled the two men. Though he'd had an inkling of how the bond of trust between the pair made the two men far stronger than either could be apart, he suspected he hadn't truly understood until he himself had fought shoulder to shoulder with those he'd happily entrust with his life. Some were from his old unit in the Daein army, though he had no idea how many yet lived and doubted they'd welcome his company. To a lesser extent, he'd known that same camaraderie with the Crimean irregulars. Though he dared not entrust them with his true identity, many of them, like himself, were people who'd made some unwise choices in the past and hoped to make a fresh start or sought atonement while fighting in defense of their home. It had been with the Greil Mercenaries, however, that Jerec had felt nearest to home in his life of exile. Until he met Melanie, that is.

"Tauroneo comes from a long line of soldiers, just like my father and I," the lancer went on. "And here's another irony for you. He actually married a Crimean woman he'd met during one of the border skirmishes. Before the Mad King's War, skirmishes between Crimea and Daein seemed to happen whenever things got too quiet. Still, the two were happily married for a long time and had two sons."

Jerec had half expected Melanie to be crowing this latest vindication, but to his surprise, her brow had furrowed and she looked almost worried.

"What do you mean by "were?" she wondered, and Jerec nearly kicked himself.

"Ah, sorry," he replied. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned that. Still, to answer your question, she left him after one of their sons was seriously injured in combat. The elder son, Josh, was assigned to Ashnard's personal guard, which was way beyond everyone's highest expectations. But when he joined Ashnard in a battle, he came back grievously injured. As far as I know, he never walked again."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah. I only heard bits and pieces about it, since I was much younger than Josh and had only met him once or twice. But I know that Tauroneo's wife was horrified. She begged Tauroneo to leave the army, but how do you convince a man to give up generations of proud tradition that he'd practically poured his whole life into?"

Melanie didn't answer, but Jerec could guess at her train of thought. After all, Tauroneo wasn't the first father whose devotion to tradition had unhappy consequences.

"When Tauroneo wouldn't listen, and started to train his younger son as a soldier, his wife decided she'd had enough," Jerec went on. "She took both sons and left him. As far as I know, they haven't been in contact since."

"Oh, that's sad…" Melanie opined feelingly. "I think his wife was a little hasty there, but I can certainly understand her feelings. Seeing someone you love suffer like that is terrible."

"Yeah, that's true. Tauroneo always regretted what happened. And thankfully, one of Ike's guys convinced him to try reaching out to his family again."

That last bit caused Melanie to arch one of her delicate eyebrows. Jerec considered trying to turn the tables with his earlier, butchered imitation of Melanie's enthusiastic tones, but her coral eyes drawing narrow told him she'd gleaned his intent.

"Don't even think about it, buster," she warned, but promptly grinning. "But you say those Daeins from the Dawn Brigade had friends among the Greil Mercenaries?"

"So, you can cry "Vindication! Vindication, I say!" but I can't?" Jerec asked, sounding pained. "That doesn't seem fair. So, maybe I won't tell you."

The lancer gave Melanie the cold shoulder for all of thirty seconds until, after she'd offered him a belly cut by way of apology, he relented.

"You know Rolf, the younger archer of the Greil Mercenaries?" he asked. "Claims he's a prodigy archer, lime green hair, about knee high."

"Jerec," Melanie intoned sternly.

"Okay, he's waist high."

"Jerreeec."

"Okay, fine, he's about yea big. Anyhow, Tauroneo briefly mistook Rolf for Josh, which got Rolf's curiosity up. Rolf eventually drew out the whole story, and encouraged Tauroneo to try and get back in touch with his wife. When Rolf told me this, while he and I were swapping stories before coming to Rivertown, he said it was because of how he'd lost his own father. Rolf knew he couldn't have his dad back, but he felt that Tauroneo's sons didn't deserve that same pain since their father was still alive and missed them."

"He sounds like a sweet little guy," Melanie opined.

"And here you were lecturing me for making cracks about his height. Still, don't tell him about that. He's really sensitive. And more to the point, he's a helluva shot."

"And yet, you're teasing him behind his back. Are you incorrigible, a masochist, or just a dolt? Still, that is really touching. It makes me wish I had a chance to talk to the Greil Mercenaries at length before they left Rivertown. So, what about the others?"

"Well, Jill the wyvern rider was good friends with Mist, Ike's younger sister. She also became good friends with Lethe, a cat warrior from Gallia. Yeah, I know, ironies abound. The mage Ilyana also bonded with Mia, a trueblade who works with the Greil Mercenaries on and off. Gatrie, their heavy foot knight, also flirted with her for a while, until she cleaned him out. It's expensive taking out a girl who eats enough for five men."

"Ouch."

"She also got along with Mordecai, a tiger laguz from Gallia. And Zihark the myrmidon befriended Muarim, a tiger laguz who was once a slave in Begnion."

As Jerec's words trailed off, he found himself mulling over them at greater length. Although he'd heard rumors about Daeins defecting to Crimea during the war, he'd given them little credence until the rumor of Tauroneo's defection had been confirmed. As he'd said to Melanie, he'd felt deeply betrayed and when further confirmation came in, he'd felt disgusted that one who would wear the armor of the proud army of Daein had turned their back on their brothers-in-arms and their king…

…and then, chance had allowed him to see just who they'd defected to, along with a clearer picture of just what they'd turned their backs on.

That had done much to solidify the lancer's budding respect for Ike, whose strength of conviction and charisma, not to mention his strong sense of right and wrong, had won over men and women who'd once sought his blood. And considering how Ike had changed the minds of other Daeins, including Jerec himself, the lancer found himself wondering at his earlier belief that the lands of his birth hadn't changed.

He honestly couldn't say that he shared Melanie's conviction that there were good people in Daein, but now, for the first time in years, he was mulling over the notion.

"Well," he spoke up after a long pensive silence. "I hope to hear about how things turned out, honestly. If Tauroneo did manage to patch things up with his wife, it could give him some more peace after…well, a lot of things, I suppose."

"Oh yeah, I agree. I hope it went well too," Melanie said. "So, I take it that he and Rolf are still friends? What about the rest?"

"I don't know. I didn't have a chance to ask Mist if she was still friends with Jill after…well, after Daein joined Begnion. And I learned not to ask Gatrie about his dating life. The hard way. As for Mia, she was away, so I couldn't ask her either. Still, now that you mention it, I'm curious myself. I've had a lot of questions about Daein and the Dawn Brigade, but it's like I forgot about them until I had to come back here. And now…I think I really want to know. I'd be surprised if I like the answers, but maybe it would give me some closure. And I should get Tauroneo's side of the story. I owe him that much."

A trace of a smile ghosted across the lancer's face as he recalled his old friend.

"After my mother's death, my father was in a bad way for quite some time," he went on. "Not that I was much better, though. But Tauroneo stuck by us through all of that. He was my mentor as I grew up and he also tried his best to help my father. I want to believe that Ike's father wanted to help as well, since they were all friends back then. But from what Ike himself has told me, it sounded like he had other priorities, although understandable ones."

He had been so lost in nostalgia that he'd let that last tidbit escape without even thinking about it. When he did pause, however, he saw Melanie's lower jaw creak open.

"Wait, Ike's father was a Daein general too?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh yeah, he was," Jerec confirmed, giving a self-deprecating laugh at his loose tongue. "So, are you a prodigy of healing or interrogation?"

"I do many things well," Melanie paused there to take a bite of belly cut. "I'd call this more medium rare, though."

"I wouldn't add "comedian" to your list of trades if I were you. But yes. Greil, though he went by Gawain back then, was a Daein general. Yet another Rider, in fact. He and his wife, Elena, fled the kingdom after stealing Lehran's Medallion. They lived in Gallia for years after. In fact, Ike and Mist were born there. That little escapade caused a hell of an uproar in Nevassa. Ashnard dispatched trained assassins and offered huge rewards. And by "huge", I mean the sort that could buy a duchy, or at least a barony. But until the Black Knight killed Greil just after the war began, no one even got close."

"Whoa! Hee, hee. The same big hero Crimea loves and respects, the guy with the chest full of medals and who half the continent suspects will swoop in to save the day, just so happened to be of Daein parentage. That's pretty funny! And I can't even put into words how ironic that is."

"Ha, ha, yeah, that's quite true, isn't it?"

It was obvious to Jerec's eyes that, since Melanie had long nursed the conviction that there were good people in Daein, in spite of everything that had happened, he'd made himself a treasure trove of evidence to confirm her beliefs. And though he had a nagging feeling that stroking her ego might come back to bite him, he couldn't help but become entranced by the smile that crossed her features as his words proved her right again and again. In truth, Jerec himself wasn't as convinced, but he wanted to keep that smile in place as long as he could.

In such a hostile country, that smile might not be there tomorrow.

"So, what was Lehran's Medallion?" Melanie asked. "I'd never heard of it before, but it must've been pretty important, or pretty dangerous, if Ike's parents went to all that trouble to hide it from Ashnard."

"Frankly, I know little more than you do," the lancer admitted. "The Black Knight being involved in the search might've been a hint, but I know Ashnard was desperate to get it back. Every field officer in his army had a detailed description of it and orders that, if they did found it, they were to drop whatever they were doing and to take it to Ashnard immediately. The odd thing was those orders also said that no one was to touch it bare-handed under any circumstances and if they did, they were to be executed on the spot."

"What?! Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Apart from that, and that it must've been a helluva lot more than an old hunk of brass, I know very little about the whole thing. All I really know is that Lehran's Medallion was over eight hundred years old, was sacred to the Serenes heron laguz, that Mist carried it with her most of her life before returning it to the surviving heron royals, and that Ashnard needed it for his secret agenda."

"What was Ashnard's secret agenda?"

"Well, if I knew that, it wouldn't be much of a secret, now would it?"

Melanie rolled her eyes at that, but promptly fixed Jerec with a penetrating look.

"So, two Daeins," she began, pointedly, "one of the Four Riders and his wife, no less, learn about this mysterious and dangerous artifact that Ashnard needs to do who-knows-what. They don't leave it where it is, for king and country, and they don't take it to try and ransom it back either. Instead, they take it halfway across the continent to hide it and kept it safe for years. And all of that was on top of having to adopt new identities and start from scratch in another country, leaving behind everything they ever knew."

"That's…a good point," Jerec admitted, more than a bit struck at how a shift in his conscience had also driven him away from all that was familiar. "Still, I think I've had all the irony I can take for one day. The nearest town is too far to reach by dark, so we should try and find some shelter."

Edited by Anacybele
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Okay, it's about time I get part 6 in here. :)

Part 6: Strange Lands, Stranger Bedfellows

It was common for people in Daein to have to travel overnight across their snowbound country, and thus they'd become quite proficient at devising shelters to survive the cold, dark nights when far from home and hearth. Consequently, Jerec and Melanie had found a number of snow caves and igloos erected by other travelers and after some perusal, Jerec managed to identify an igloo that looked to be in good enough shape for another night's use. The lancer had gotten a good laugh at Melanie awkwardly shimmying through the entrance on knees and elbows, but the tables were turned when he realized the space was a bit snug for two people.

Between that, and the questions Melanie had stirred up in his head, Jerec passed a restless night. Still, the morning air had a bracing chill that stirred his blood and as the pair continued, their talk turned to lighter subjects. Jerec had shared some of his exploits as a mercenary and as a soldier in Crimea's irregular forces, as well as teaching Melanie some tricks for camping in Daein's snowy landscape. She also asked him questions about his time with the Greil Mercenaries, and seemed fascinated by Jerec's stories about the laguz shamans and the ritual they'd performed to create the cure for his Brain Fever. Jerec had tried to leave out the part about Ike's embarrassing childhood portrait.

He tried to. He really did.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" Melanie howled, doubling over and clutching her stomach. "Oh, that's priceless!"

"I'll say!" Jerec said, or tried to since he was nearly breathless from laughter himself. "I swear, he was so tubby back then, I'll never know how his mother picked him up without throwing out her back. Most of the other mercenaries ragged on him quite a bit. But them finding out just how dumb it is to embarrass and laugh at the guy who pays your salary? Now, that was priceless!"

"I'll say! So, the laguz shaman who made it her business to try and spoil Ike and Mist silly was the same one who visited you in that nightmare?"

"Yeah, Rose Thorn. Not her given name, obviously, but elder shamans take on a title with their rank and will only give their real names to people who have their full confidence. If we get the chance, I think you'd enjoy meeting her. She's a very sweet old lady, like everybody's favorite grandmother. But like you, she's also willing to look past appearances. In fact, she's pretty good at it, too. How lonely I was, before coming to Rivertown? Well, she knew long before I did. Or at least, I suspect so. Talking to her also helped me decide to see Tauroneo to find out about my half-sibling. I still don't know how I have one, what he or she is like, or anything. But I do know that my father would've wanted me to find out and do what I can for him. Or her."

Something much akin to pride was in Melanie's expression as she clapped a hand to Jerec's shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze.

"Nevassa's still a few days off," the lancer went on. "So, our next stop will be the town of Frostthorn. I should warn you, the people there aren't exactly warm and fuzzy."

"The name did sound like a hint," Melanie quipped.

"Yeah, and you heard the phrase "swearing like a sailor"? Well, shipbuilders are even worse. I swear, vulgarity is practically an art form there, so don't be alarmed if your ears suddenly start burning. Still, the people there are honest enough. Like I said, they're shipbuilders, and they're probably the only people who can build boats that can sail off Daein's northern coast. In the old days, just after Daein won independence from Begnion, these were longships used by pillaging hordes who'd sail to far off corners, grab anything valuable, and then sail home to celebrate with tankards of mead, dice games, arm-wrestling, and all kinds of noisy debauchery. These days, though, the boats they build are for catching exotic fish. A plate of Daein wild salmon is to die for."

"That does sound good. It seems you Daeins are quite partial to meat and fish. But that's probably due to not growing much, right?"

"Yeah. Can't grow much in a country that has harsh winters and only mildly warm summers. Aside from the farmlands in the south, the only fruits and vegetables we'd get were imported from Begnion and even Crimea. But that was an on-again-off-again thing, and it's been "off" probably since Ashnard took the throne. That trading post where you caught up with me? Well, it looks the way it does because it was established back when there was a chance that regular trade with Crimea would become a reality and make the place a gold mine. When none of that happened…well, you saw the place."

"Yeah, I did. It's sad that, even after everything, there's still so much bad blood between Crimea and Daein. I understand that scars like that take time to heal, but I can't help but feel that, if it did happen, both countries would be better off."

"Yeah, I sometimes feel the same. Still, Ike would probably love it here if it wasn't for all the enmity between this place and him. No meal complete without steak and ribs? His version of paradise. Still, I hope Daein does start importing those fruits and vegetables again. It's much nicer to have more than just meat in my opinion."

Melanie gave his shoulder another squeeze and when Jerec turned to face her, she gave him a knowing look.

"Interesting to hear you say that when you don't plan on staying," she quipped.

"Er…" he stuttered, surprised. "I…I was just voicing an opinion. I don't plan to stay here any longer than I have to. I just want to meet Tauroneo and get this over with, honestly. I don't like being back here at all."

"Yeah, I can understand… But if Daein didn't mean anything to you, why would you care what imports they get or whether they manage to mend fences with Crimea?"

Jerec's struggles to find an answer occupied him for much of their remaining walk to Frostthorn, and he could sense Melanie's knowing gaze on him all the while. Indeed, as much as he detested the idea of coming back to Daein, as much as the memories pained him, and as great as the dangers of him of being recognized were, some part of him did, strangely enough, still felt connected to that cold and harsh country. Whether it might be nostalgia, or the curiosity Melanie had nurtured in him about whether Daein might be different than he remembered, or simply returning to a once familiar place as a very different man, Jerec could not say. He mulled over it a long time, avoiding tree roots, snow drifts, and other obstacles by pure luck.

Melanie, on the other hand, looked every which way as she took in the sights and sounds of the Daein seaside town. Awestruck, her gaze darted amongst the various townsfolk going about their business, from running market stalls to driving horse carts with supplies, and more. Though Forstthorn was not as big as Rivertown, it did look quite lively. Apart from the bustle of the docks as trawlers returned with loads of fish she'd never even heard of, there was the breathtaking view of the fjords dotting the horizon, labyrinthine masses of ice into which the turning of the years had carved narrow passages between towering, frigid cliffs.

"Amazing!" Melanie said, barely aware she was speaking but snapping Jerec out of his earlier trance. "It's so beautiful out there."

"I never really took the time to notice, but I agree," Jerec admitted, startling Melanie in turn. "You know, some daring souls actually enter those passages, on boats or wyverns. Many don't come back, but I can see the appeal. Like I said, Daeins have a lot of drive and determination. A close cousin to that is a sense of adventure."

"I think I can see the appeal too. But apart from the view, when you first look at this place, it…it really doesn't seem much different from Crimea at all."

"Hm? I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. But yeah, I guess the biggest difference between this place and Rivertown is the view. Frostthorn has its markets and other businesses, and no Daein town's complete without livestock farms to raise animals."

For a long moment, Melanie did not reply. Her coral eyes, still wide with wonderment, continued to roam over the crags of ice. A gasp of surprise parted her lips when she spied a slender boat, likely crewed by some of the daring souls Jerec mentioned, run out oars and vanish into the yawning entrance to one of the fjords. The lancer was hesitant to spoil the moment, for he knew that their journey might offer few such delights for Melanie, but he noticed that some townsfolk were heading towards the docks to see if the daredevils made it back out.

He dared not run the risk of letting them close enough to recognize them.

"We should probably get moving," he said gently. "It's going to get a bit…crowded here pretty soon."

Melanie nodded her understanding, and with some reluctance, allowed herself to be led away from the icy shores. The lancer had an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Melanie cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. Amazed once more at how patient and understanding she could be, he silently vowed that she'd see the fjords again before they departed Daein. Perhaps even up close.

Not as close as those daredevils who were sailing into them, but still…

For now, however, he thought it best to take advantage of the crowds on the docks to get some food. Frostthorn wasn't as big as Rivertown, but it was more than big enough to have at least one or two inns and taverns. And it would be best if there were few patrons about to notice the pair of strangers in their midst.

As people continued to trickle towards the docks to watch the sailors brave the icy jaws of the fjord, Melanie took the chance to take in more of the ambiance of Frostthorn…including its unique "art form" as they passed a pair of quarreling brothers who were swearing at each other with remarkable creativity. The lancer snickered, remembering how his father had once ventured to Frostthorn to prepare the town for a blizzard, and returned with the local speech having rankled his gentlemanly sensibilities

"Well, my ears are not burning," Melanie told Jerec.

"That's impressive," Jerec remarked.

"They're burning off."

"That's not impressive."

"I swear…no pun intended, that brawl between the folk of Rivertown and Daein? Just two of three of the obscenities I've heard so far might've set it off."

"Rivertown versus Frostthorn? You could charge admission to watch that."

Melanie snickered at the image, throwing out some quips about which of her neighbors would be crowd favorites and which might very well faint in the face of Frostthorn's legendary profanities. When the hilarity died down and the pair found a sparsely filled tavern, she asked Jerec why they bothered when they both carried packs full of provisions. Jerec took the opportunity to convey another lesson.

"You can get a fair bit of food from hunting and fishing, but it's not foolproof," he warned. "Game can become scarce during seasons when the creatures are hibernating, migrating, or due to overhunting. A lot of fish and birds migrate from season to season, and wild fruits and such don't grow at certain times of year. Usually, it's best to save what's in your pack for the road. It does cost money to buy a meal, and that money doesn't come easily, but it's better than running out of food in the middle of nowhere."

"That makes sense," Melanie said, pausing to take a bite of wild salmon. "This is amazing, by the way. So, apart from mercenary work, how do you line your pockets?"

"Well, some animals that I hunt have value beyond eating. Some wolves, for instance, have pelts and teeth that can fetch a decent price. It's especially true in Daein, since an extra blanket or jacket never goes to waste up here. The tusks of that boar might've gotten us some coin too, but I didn't have the right tools to remove them. There's also herbs. Some have healing properties, so apothecaries who make vulneraries can never get enough of them. Others are natural spices and are prized by cooks from here to Goldoa. A few, you stick in a pipe and smoke. Haven't tried that myself, but certain blends of pipeweed can be sold for enough money to buy silver weapons. Some healing herbs and spices we'll keep for our own use, and others we'll sell. I can teach you how to spot them and where best to sell, since we'll get the most money from places where those herbs are hard to find."

"You seem to be a man of many talents."

"Thanks, and I guess it's another irony for the pile that I learned a lot of this during my time in Daein's army. Those igloos and snow caves we browsed last night? They had us erecting those two or three times a week for use in winter campaigns. I'm just glad we found one that was still standing. Since I didn't think I'd ever come back here, I didn't keep the tools I'd need to build them."

"Maybe you'll teach me while we're here. You said yourself, tracking down your half-sibling could mean we'll be in Daein for a while. And I think we'd both like to get some answers before we leave."

The lancer had to admit, she had a point. Ever since their talk the day before, where his curiosity over Tauroneo, and the other Daeins who'd defected to Ike and then later sided with Begnion, had grown quite insistent. He also knew that, since Melanie had long nursed the belief that there were good Daeins in the world, having the chance to seek out proof on their native soil was too tantalizing for her to pass up. And strangely, her eagerness to find out seem to nurture his own curiosity. The lancer knew better than to simply expect that whatever answers he found would be to his liking, assuming he got any answers at all, but something in Melanie's earnest, inquisitive gaze made him want to find out nonetheless.

As he himself had said, he owed it to Tauroneo to get his side of the story.

"We'll see," Jerec said, finishing his drink. "Well, I'm about finished, and it looks like you are too, so let's hurry and get going. I don't mean to rush you, but…you know."

"Oh, don't worry, I know," Melanie replied with a smile. "I understand it's hard being back here after so long. After what you've told me, I don't blame you for wanting to just finish your business and leave again. I do still think getting the truth out of General Tauroneo will give you both some peace, but I'll let you make the decision. And I'll be with you every step of the way."

She pecked Jerec on the cheek after she spoke.

"Heh… Thanks," he replied, a large grin on his face.

The two then finished up their meals completely and departed the tavern. The sound of many approaching footfalls alerted Jerec to the crowd at the docks having dispersed, like as not after deciding that the fjords had claimed a few more daring souls, and he decided that they should not linger. After conferring with Melanie, who thankfully understood the risks, they decided they'd try to reach the next town before stopping somewhere for the night. He still had his concerns about Melanie accompanying him, however.

That Melanie had followed him all the way across the border to that decrepit trading post, and followed him still deeper into this cold and hostile country, made it abundantly clear that she possessed incredible courage. But Jerec had learned the hard way that his former countrymen could be quite vicious.

"You know, it could get even more dangerous from here on out," he warned her. "We may have to go through at least a few more towns before we reach Nevassa since the capital is practically on the other side of the country from here. Some people will surely recognize me, and it could get ugly. We'll have to be very careful."

"I know…" Melanie said, but she nonetheless took Jerec's arm in a determined grip. "It is something I worry about too. But I'm still willing to do this anyway. And I'm glad you're not undertaking such a journey alone. I love you too much to see you take such risks. And I saw how badly those bandits hurt you in Rivertown. The thought of that happening again, and there being no one to help you…I don't even want to think about it. I may not be able to fight, but as you're fond of pointing out, I know something of treating wounds now. And even if we have nothing else, we will both have our love. We're together, and nothing will ever change that. I'll be with you to the end, and that's that."

The smile on Jerec's face broadened until it threatened to take in his ears.

"You're amazing," he said. "It's definitely no wonder that I fell so in love with you. To be willing to risk a journey with me all the way to Nevassa because you care that much…I'm not even really sure what exactly I did to deserve that kind of love, but I will treasure it. And you know what else? I've decided I won't let anything pull us apart again. I'm sorry I left you behind and that you had to chase after me. As I'd made my escape, I told myself again and again that even if I'd been able to take you with me, we likely wouldn't have gotten away from Rivertown. Hell, I still don't know how I managed that jump to the docks without killing myself. If you'd tried to follow and missed…well, I don't even want to think about it. And that's leaving aside how I thought I had no business taking you from your home, even if you did want to leave. Still, even when I had myself tied in knots about whether I should leave you be or let you come along, all I wanted to do was protect you. And I'll still protect you, with my very life if I need to."

"Oh, Jerec… I really hope it doesn't come to that, but I understand why you did what you did. All that time I agonized over how to get out of marrying Raphael? Well, it took meeting you, and falling in love with you, to make me decide to do something about it. Yes, you've warned me that this will be a harsh life, but at least it's one of my own choosing. All that matters is that we're together now. And I won't let anything come between us again either. So next time you want to run away somewhere, I go with you. Promise, love?"

Melanie gave a warm smile as she playfully teased Jerec.

"Heh, I promise…my love."

Melanie pulled Jerec close again so they could kiss once more, and even though they were still on a somewhat busy road and might attract unwelcome scrutiny, Jerec could think about little else beyond savoring the sweet taste of Melanie's plush lips. They didn't let it draw out too long, however, as they still knew they had a long journey before they reached Nevassa as Jerec had said. As they drew apart and moved towards the outskirts of town, their hands locked together, Jerec remembered what the waiter back in Rivertown had said to him. That man had been cheeky, but he'd also been remarkably perceptive. What Jerec wanted most really was there in front of him the whole time. As he had admitted, he'd tried to fight it, to convince himself that it was not his place to interfere in Melanie's life or to let her join him in the life of a rootless vagabond. Yet, his love for Melanie, and the love she'd shown him in return, had proven the stronger, and a desire to save her from her troubled life was all he wanted and needed. And now, at long last, they had found in each other an end to their years of loneliness.

Heh, I really ought to visit Ike and Elincia sometime now. They'd be happy to know I got a girl, Jerec mused happily. Who knows? Maybe we'll make it in time for their wedding. Rose Thorn did say she expected it to happen soon.

On the heels of that happy notion, however, came one far less joyous. Thinking of Ike's impending marriage, of his and Elincia's future finally being secure, drove home the point of just how uncertain a future he and Melanie had. Even if nothing more came between him and Melanie, he still had no home to offer her nor a ring, let alone the prospect of marriage. Jerec could not afford any of what she deserved, not by a long shot. And as he'd learned in the purgatory of Ashera's Wrath, he could no longer bear the thought of being alone. If Melanie was going to be a part of his life, he wanted that life to be a better one, not living on the road forever and eking out whatever living they could until their luck ran out. No, he wanted to give her a proper home, someplace where their troubled pasts could harm them no longer. Where that might be, he didn't know, but he was certain he'd need to find ways to make more money to make that wish come true.

When Melanie flashed him another smile, however, Jerec decided it was best to focus on those things when the time came, and just enjoy the happiness at that moment.

As he'd reminded himself more than once, such moments might prove fleeting, and he'd have ample time to contemplate grimmer matters between here and Nevassa.

As the pair reached the outskirts of town, Melanie noticed a pair of musicians, one playing a flute and the other an accordion, likely the pair were looking to earn a little money by welcoming visitors with their jaunty tunes. In fact, confirmation came when Melanie spied an overturned hat in front of them, which outdoor performers typically used to collect coins. Melanie excitedly motioned for Jerec to dance with her. His cheeks going pink, Jerec said that while he'd seen his father and other Daein nobles dance at formal events, he didn't really know how to do so himself.

"Oh, I can give you a quick lesson! I was learning during my "engagement," since people often dance at weddings," Melanie explained. "Here, all you really need to do is this."

After placing her ice pack in her small knapsack, Melanie took one of Jerec's hands and put it at her waist while she took the other in her own hand. Her remaining hand rested on Jerec's shoulder.

"Now, with your feet, you basically mirror the way I move my feet," she continued. "If I move my left foot this way, you move your right one in the same direction. I might have to mirror you at times as well, though. If you take a step backward, I'll step forward to follow you."

"Ah, I get it," Jerec said, hoping he sounded convincing. "I remember seeing slow dancing like that before. I think I can do it."

"Great!"

With that, they began dancing, though Jerec was still a little uneasy. He didn't want to accidentally step on Melanie's feet or cause her to fall by getting his legs tangled with hers. Still, he did his best to follow her movements, and much to his surprise, he found himself falling into the rhythm and his anxiety began to slip away. Seeing that she'd gotten him to relax a little and have fun, Melanie let out a peal of bell clear laughter that seemed to warm the snow around them.. A large smile crossed his face again as he happily took her, somewhat clumsily, into a few of the more complicated dance moves he recalled seeing so long ago, such as spins and then pulling away from her and raising one hand overhead to send her into a twirl.

"Ooh! See, you do remember some things!" she pointed out. "I didn't have to teach you that! Hee hee."

"Heh, I suppose you're right!" Jerec replied, the pink tint in his cheeks having nothing to do with the cold. "I did recall seeing some people twirl their ladies like that, so I thought I'd try it."

"Well, you seem to be a natural at this! Did you ever think about dancing more, Jerec? This seems to be yet another of your hidden talents!"

"Huh, you give me too much credit. Like you said, it helps to have a good teacher. But you could be on to something there. I might think about it in the future."

"Heh, alright, we'll see!"

Perhaps it was Jerec's recurrent desire to give Melanie whatever happiness he could, since the joy she felt right now might not endure in Daein. Maybe it was simply that they'd gotten lost in their dance. Whatever the reason, the couple's impromptu waltz had begun to wend its way out of town, the pair heedless of the music to gradually fading fade off into the distance behind them. Yet, they didn't care. All that mattered then was that despite the circumstances, and how precarious their present situation was, to say nothing of their uncertain future, they were together and happy.

Unfortunately, that happiness was about to be cut short.

As the two passed by the last few buildings on the outskirts of town and made their way to into the Daein wilderness, Jerec had happily scooped Melanie into his arms and spun around in a joyous circle. Their gazes lingered on one another for a long, precious moment as Melanie's hand cupped Jerec's cheek. Their lips were about to meet again when a voice, all too familiar and heady with smoldering rage, rang out.

"Having fun?"

Jerec and Melanie sprang apart, gasps parting both of their lips as they whirled in the direction of the voice.

Staggering into view was a man they knew all too well, and whom they'd hoped to never see again.

"Raphael?!" Melanie cried, her eyes widened.

"You!" Jerec yelled, his previous happiness very quickly turning to anger as he set Melanie down and darted in front of her protectively.

"But…how did you…?!" Melanie stammered.

Jerec had to admit, he was wondering the same thing. Still, it was obvious that Raphael had managed to follow the fugitives…

…barely.

He was clad in a different outfit that the ostentatious ensemble he'd favored in Rivertown, but his present garb was no less gaudy. "Was" being the operative word, and nor was it any less unsuited to Daein's cold climes. His blue tunic, ivory trousers, and cravat were riddled with gashes, several of which looked to have been the work of an irate bear, and blood shone around, and inside, many of the ribs. One black leather boot, which had clearly seen harsh days, remained to him while the other had apparently been lost, and his bare toes were turning a faint blue even as Jerec stared his rival down. Fresh bruises around his neck suggested that Raphael's still ridiculous garb and once included another opera cape, and that it had taken a near-strangulation for him to decide it was more trouble than it was worth.

The rest of him, however, looked even worse. Though Raphael was upright and looked as incredulous as ever, there were deep shadows under his eyes and his normally well-groomed face sported a great deal of stubble. His sunken cheeks and the way his clothing hung off of him also suggested that he hadn't taken the pains to pack food for the road and that, of late, dinner had proven elusive. Yet, though Jerec found himself doubting Raphael would live to see the Riven Bridge a second time, the hatred in those eyes left no doubt that Melanie's former betrothed could be quite dangerous.

"Heh, heh… Didn't expect me, did you? I knew you both would show up here," Raphael continued, speaking in a rapid tone punctuated by giggling that called to mind the Nevassa lunatic asylum. "Melanie, you knew me well. I'm surprised you didn't think I might've followed. Remember, I heard everything you two said that night."

"I certainly thought I knew you, but this…this isn't you, Raphael!" Melanie protested. "I remember you as a loving and caring man, but now… Look at yourself! You sound demented, and you look half frozen! You need a healer, not revenge."

"Loving and caring?!" Raphael spat through chapped lips. "Why should I believe you, and why would you care anyway?! You lied to me and your parents all our lives, stringing me along while you waited for some vagrant or other to snatch you up! What, didn't you make off with my family's dowry on your way out?!"

"How dare you?!" Jerec retorted. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here, you controlling scumbag!"

"I'm the scum? That's funny, I recall you being the one who slithered his way into our lives and stole Melanie away from us."

"Wrong! She followed me after I left!"

Raphael had been about to retort, but a manic grin suddenly split open his face and he began to giggle and stagger about in a fashion that had Jerec wondering if it was possible to get frostbite on one's brain.

Raphael's seeming derangement did seem like proof, which made the lancer all the more worried.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" Raphael cackled, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Let her come with you to a country where either of you would be hung the minute you were recognized. Or did your charms blind her to that little detail?"

"No, she knew the risks and wanted to join me anyway," Jerec intoned, somehow sounding calm even as he wanted to strangle Raphael on the spot. "Unlike some people, I chose to respect her wishes!"

"I did leave on my own, Raphael, and you know it!" Melanie added. "You need to stop! This is not the man I grew up with!"

If Melanie had been hoping to talk Raphael out of his frenzy, she chose her words poorly, for Raphael let out a mirthless, manic laugh and began to stagger in blind circles.

"The man you grew up with was a fool!" he hissed, though he was facing well away from Melanie when he spoke. "Blind to this duplicity! How did he not see through your painted smiles? Treachery, thy name is woman! Stupidity, thy name is Raphael!"

As his tirade continued, Raphael continued to wander before the pair, taking flailing blows at unseen phantoms and snarling at the air around him.

"Get a-hold of yourself!" Jerec bellowed, snatching Raphael by the shoulders and shaking him ferociously. "Maybe it would've been better if Melanie told you how she really felt, but that's no excuse for your actions. Smacking her around, likening her to a gold-digging harlot! I don't care if your brain is frostbitten, you treat her like that again and I'll personally drench you in honey and tie you up outside the nearest bear's cave!"

The cold, hunger, and humiliation may, indeed, have driven Raphael to the brink of madness, but perhaps his wits had not entirely unraveled, for his manic eyes cleared and he seemed to return to himself. Though, for how long was anyone's guess.

"Yes, you're right," Raphael conceded, surprising the couple as he turned towards Melanie. "I shouldn't have hit her, and I feel miserable about how I acted that night. I swear to the goddesses, I never meant to hit you, Mel. Believe me, please."

"I understand. Like I said, I know you well," Melanie replied. "I knew the truth might hurt you, even if I did have the chance to tell you like I should have. You were angry and humiliated, and I don't hate you for that. But that's not important now. We need to get you help. You're turning blue, and you look like you haven't eaten in days."

Jerec spent a stretching second mulling over her words. Impressed though he was by Melanie's unwavering compassion, even towards someone who'd unwittingly caused her years of misery, and though he suspected Raphael would likely die in this tundra without help, he was at a loss as to what could be done. Even if they did have some way to pay for a healer, he had no idea where Frostthorn's local healer might be found. And on top of that, lingering in town at all, let alone coaxing the unbalanced Raphael along as they searched, meant the risk of discovery would grow by the minute.

And let's not forget the oh-so-simple question of just how we'll convince Raphael to accept help from a Daein and talking a Daein healer into treating a Crimean, assuming the healer doesn't turn us all in on the spot.

The lancer's grim introspection was interrupted, however, when Raphael suddenly tore free of his grasp.

"Yet you still decided to lie to me and your parents for years!" he hissed, all traces of his earlier contrition gone. "And then this Daein filth comes along!"

"Listen, as furious as I am at you for what you've done, I have better things to do than tangle with you!" Jerec shot back. "Now, what Melanie said about finding a healer? That's good advice. How about—"

The lancer had extended one hand to Raphael, as much to restrain volatile man as to keep him on his feet, but Raphael snarled and slapped the proffered hand away.

"Oh, you most certainly won't be running away again," Raphael said, his eyes agleam with manic rage once more. "Maybe I did sign my own death warrant by following you this far, but your slights against me are far more than I can let pass. And I will have satisfaction!"

"What?! No!" Melanie protested.

However, just as before, Raphael was beyond reason. It was then that Jerec and Melanie belatedly noticed the sword at Raphael's side, which he then drew. Jerec had half expected the weapon to be a display piece or just a hand-me-down, better suited to hang on a wall than carry into battle, but he saw that it was instead a silver sword. Jerec knew that such weapons were expensive and could only be wielded by experienced combatants, so he wasn't hesitant to unsling his lance.

"Ha, you do know that lances have the advantage over swords, don't you?" he said with a smirk.

"You think I'm a fool? I'm well aware of that. But it doesn't mean you'll win."

"Both of you, stop right now!" Melanie intervened again. "Raphael, my parents better not have put you up to this! I won't let you kill him! This is not like you at all!"

"He won't, Mel," Jerec promised, but he spoke in a grim tone which betrayed just how much he doubted that bloodshed could be averted.

"Ha, your parents didn't exactly tell me to do it, but they did…imply that they wanted someone to do something," Raphael replied. "And that someone might as well be me!"

Melanie continued to beg the two men to lay down their arms, but Raphael was unmoved as he leveled his blade and shouted "En guarde!"

He lunged at Jerec in a fury, the lancer just barely managing to slap aside the blow with the shaft of his weapon. Raphael was pretty fast, much more so than Jerec would've expected given the man's condition. And though he'd largely abandoned technique in favor of sheer rage, the speed and fluidity of the blows suggested that he had been training to be a swordmaster. Perhaps hunger, cold, and humiliation had driven Raphael's training out of his head along with his wits, or maybe he suspected he wouldn't live to return to Crimea even if he did win and decided he might as well take his hated enemy with him. Either way, Raphael was an opponent with a frayed mind and who had nothing to lose.

Jerec had learned the hard way that such opponents were unpredictable and deadly, weaponry disadvantage or not.

Of course this is what he meant when he said having a lance didn't mean I'd win. But I still should have far more experience at this point, Jerec surmised. I've been to war. He hasn't.

Knowing this, and that trying to predict the actions of a maddened opponent would be futile, Jerec focused on reacting to and outlasting his foe. Faced with a headlong charge, Jerec tucked into a roll that carried him under Raphael's next strike. With practiced ease, he rose and stuck his foot out to trip his opponent.

Raphael was already in rough shape and was likely spending lavishly of his remaining strength in his attacks. With luck, he could be exhausted into surrender.

If not…Jerec did not relish the notion of having to kill the jilted man. But when weighing the choice of killing Raphael as a last resort against the choice of letting Raphael expose them, likely condemning all three to death, it was no choice at all.

"Please, just STOP!" Melanie pleaded again as Raphael went sprawling to the ground.

"Look, I seriously don't want to fight—!" Jerec tried again to protest, but Raphael vaulted to his feet before the lancer had a chance to pin him down, however. All Jerec could do at this point was block Raphael's blows as best as he could. He had hoped that Raphael would tire himself out quickly, but it seemed Melanie's ragged suitor was much stronger than he looked. What if tiring Raphael out wouldn't work after all? Jerec doubted Raphael could kill him, but being injured out here would be no improvement. He couldn't afford to be stuck in another bed recovering from injuries again when Tauroneo was waiting for him, and that was assuming someone from Frostthorn didn't find his defenseless and bleeding body, recognize him, and throw him to the sharks. On the other hand, however, he also couldn't waste his time defending against Raphael's strikes all day.

"Damn it all, if you won't listen, then you leave me no choice!" Jerec shouted as Raphael's blade ground against his lance yet again.

As Jerec had surmised, his training and experience had made him the stronger of the two combatants, and he used all his might to shove the somewhat leaner and tiring Raphael over backward. Raphael hit the ground hard, and before he could rise, Jerec darted in to slam the heavy pommel of his lance into Raphael's gut. The blow knocked the wind out of Raphael, allowing Jerec to dive on top of him, flip him over, and yank his arms behind his back, disarming the bitter ex-fiancé in the process.

"Hey! You dastard!" Raphael rasped, barely able to breathe.

"You ready to listen and stop this stupidity?!" Jerec spat.

"Jerec, what are you doing?! Don't hurt him!" Melanie pleaded.

Her voice brought Jerec up short, and the all too familiar heat of the battle gave way to the grim realization of how he'd been chivvied into an impossible situation. This would not be the first time he'd been forced to take a life in combat when he'd wished otherwise, and he doubted it would be the last, but he had long ago come to terms with the grim reality that people died in battle, regardless of who deserved it or not.

Yet, that did not change the fact that as much pain as Raphael had caused her, Melanie still cared for him and might not be able to take the pain of losing yet another loved one. She also might not soon forgive her lover for killing him right in front of her.

Yet, though Jerec groped madly for an alternative, none came to him.

He'd hoped that he could rapidly fatigue Raphael into submission, but Raphael's resistance had been too fierce, and too noisy. Someone would surely come at any moment to investigate the commotion. And when that happened, Jerec would face a dilemma that could make even Ike shudder.

Would he and Melanie run, leaving Raphael alone and helpless in the midst of a country where the prevailing opinion was that the only good Crimean was a dead one?

Would he kill Raphael to at least spare him a longer and far less merciful end?

Either could destroy the love that had blossomed between him and Melanie. Yet, trying to get all three of them away from Frostthorn seemed even more hopeless.

Then, before Jerec could respond either to his lover's plea or his ominous musings, another male voice rang out. This voice too was familiar, and hearing it caused the lancer's stomach to drop.

"Hey, you all there! What in the goddess's name is going on here?!"

Melanie turned, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed that Jerec hadn't done likewise. He gave her a subtle shake of his head that, from a distance, might seem to be him struggling with Raphael, hoping she would not let slip his name. But he could feel those cold eyes boring into the back of his head and turning his blood to ice.

"I know that voice," he whispered, as much to himself as Raphael. "It's Zann, my old commanding officer. He is a dangerous man; a sadist and a villain."

"Reminds me of someone I know," Raphael hissed, too loudly for Jerec's liking.

"Shut up! If he realizes who we are, we're all dead. Melanie might be able to bluff him. But whatever she says, play along!"

"Put my life in the hands of a filthy Daein and a woman who's been lying to my face since I was a suckling? Not a chance!"

Whether Raphael didn't believe Jerec's claim, or still wanted revenge, or had lost whatever was left of his wits, he snapped his head back and into Jerec's face. The pain caused the lancer's grip to slacken and Raphael tore free of his grasp.

"Get back here, you idiot!" the lancer said urgently, a hint of terror in his words.

Jerec desperately grasped for Raphael, managing to catch the blue tinged ankle of his bare foot and yanking him off his feet. Uncertain if his voice might be recognized, he was weighing the option of adding a lisp to his words as he had back at the trading post or simply letting Melanie do the talking. But Raphael took both options away from them.

"If you don't get the hell off me, Jerec, I swear you'll be sorry for more than just taking Melanie from me!"

Jerec could literally feel the blood drain out of his face as gasps were heard in answer to Raphael's outburst.

Several gasps. Not only had Zann stumbled upon them, but he wasn't alone.

Knowing the jig was up, the lancer sprang to his feet to behold his old commanding officer. Zann hadn't changed much, save for that he'd somehow managed to plummet from a major to a junior sergeant during Jerec's absence. He still had the same iron gray hair that curled about his face like the legs of a creeping spider, the same hard edged features which betrayed not even a glimmer of mercy, and the icy blue eyes that shone with equal parts avarice and malice.

People who'd met Zann would describe him behind his back as "simply evil" and though not many lived to repeat such claims, none disagreed.

Zann's early life was a mystery, but it was no secret that he had once ruled a criminal empire whose fetid roots spread through much of northern Tellius and a sizable chunk of Begnion. It was believed that, as far back as his early teens, Zann had worked to spin a veritable web of bribery, piracy, extortion, "protection" rackets, black markets, assassinations, intimidation, kidnapping, racketeering, smuggling, and slave trading, all of which had made him wealthier than most dukes. He was also famed for his ruthlessness, as he never passed up a chance to cow his victims with bloodshed.

Inevitably, such a powerful and ruthless man attracted the attention of the most powerful and ruthless of men, namely Ashnard.

Knowing that Zann was too dangerous to have as an opponent, but also knowing that rooting out such a vast network of crime would cost him more blood and treasure than war against Crimea and the laguz might, Ashnard instead offered Zann a place at his side. Though Zann likely galled at having to serve any man besides himself, the chance to advance his own power all the more likely persuaded him…

…either that or he was convinced by the pinky finger and ear which Ashnard had personally lobbed off of him as a warning not to refuse.

Either way, having been extensively briefed on Gawain's unique fighting style, Zann had used his extensive contacts amongst the bandits and pirates in Crimea to stir up trouble, drawing out mercenaries of all descriptions in order to see if any resembled Gawain or, failing that, fought like they might be one of his students. Additionally, Zann's extensive contacts amongst pirates had given Daein access to freebooter vessels with which to covertly ply Begnion waters, as well as in depth knowledge of how to make their pirate guises quite convincing. Finally, his vast holdings in the slave trade ensured that Izuka had no shortage of test subjects as he perfected the formula for creating Feral Ones. As a reward for his "services," Zann had been given the honorary rank of major in the Daein army and placed in command of Jerec's old battalion. Jerec had deeply resented taking orders from a lifelong criminal, but he'd swallowed his incredulity and assumed there had to be some method behind the seeming madness…

…only to learn that Ashnard wasn't called "the Mad King" without reason.

Jerec had no idea how Zann had managed to survive the aftereffects of the Mad King's War, but that Queen Micaiah had somehow failed to have the villain hung caused his opinion of Daein's "changes" to worsen greatly.

But the lancer had far graver matters to consider. As he'd feared, Zann had apparently brought four Daein soldiers with him. Since all were carrying snow shovels and ice saws instead of their customary lances and shields, they must've been erecting igloos and snow caves as part of their winter survival training. Such tools were hardly weapons compared to his silver lance, but a saw sharp enough to cut through foot thick blocks of ice would have little trouble slicing apart flesh and sinew. The soldiers looked young, likely fresh out of boot camp, if even, but their hardened glares made it clear they knew of Jerec and were not pleased at his return.

"Well, well, well," Zann said, his voice like that of a cat slowly clawing apart a mouse. "If it isn't Jerec, General Bryce's back-stabbing son? I guess there really is a silver lining to this day after all. I've wanted to kill you since before the wars started, and here you are giving me the perfect excuse. Slinking back here after turning your back on us, and bringing two Crimean along. Oh, now this is a training day worth getting up for!"

"DAMN IT, RAPHAEL!" Jerec shouted. "CAN'T YOU KEEP YOUR TRAP SHUT FOR ONE GODDESS DAMN SECOND?!"

Raphael, apparently once more in the throes of derangement, replied only with a madman's giggle that had some of Zann's men exchanging quizzical glances. After his demented laughter had faded to gasping, he fixed Jerec with a contemptuous glare.

"Oh, come now!"" he said, speaking as though to a child who'd acted foolishly when they ought to know better. "You mean to tell me you weren't hoping this would happen? All that nonsense about your "awakening of conscience" driving you away from here. Well, I didn't believe a word of it. You Daeins are all alike! Whether it's about protecting us from "sub-humans" or your sob story, a Daein mouth is full of lies squirming like maggots waiting to grow wings!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"" Jerec shouted, all too aware of just how eager Zann and his men looked to oblige.

"Well, why not?" Zann said, almost casually. "You'd be amazed how many people have died to make a point. I've killed quite a few of those myself. But you three? I think I'll enjoy this! We've had only a few traitors in Daein's history, and too many of them are protected by the queen. But you, Jerec? You're fair game."

With that, Zann brought up his ice saw and swept it forward like a sword knight signaling a charge.

"Unleash upon them! Attack!"

Melanie could only shriek as all hell completely broke loose. The Daein soldiers leapt into battle in a clumsy but determined fashion, brandishing their snow shovels and ice saws as they charged the three fugitives.

Great! Just GREAT! Jerec fumed in his head, wondering if things could get any worse from here on out. He was forced to let go of Raphael as the soldier attempted to strike.

He quickly sized up the opposition and determined that, indeed, these Daein soldiers were inexperienced. Though they had the advantage of numbers, their amateurish charge had caused their approach to degenerate into a ragged line, with some soldiers being well ahead of their fellows and where it might be possible to knock them into one another's way. If Jerec could keep them from swarming him, he just might have a chance.

That's a mighty big "if", though, he silently admitted.

Still, he braced himself for the assault and hoped that, if worse did come to worse, that he might at least buy time for Melanie to escape.

As the first soldier reached him, he drew his snow shovel over one shoulder - using far too much wind up, Jerec noted - and the lancer was able to stun him with one well-placed thrust of his lance's pommel. The blow staggered the younger soldier and a shoulder check from Jerec sent him tottering right into the path of the man behind him. Both went down sprawling in the snow, but the third overleapt the tangle of limbs and swung his ice saw at Jerec's neck.

The lancer caught the blow with the shaft of his lance, twisting the blade off course and following up with a kick to the soldier's knee that caused the younger man's leg to buckle underneath him. But by the time Jerec had backpedaled clear of the flailing saw, the first two had rejoined the fight, along with the fourth. Seeing that the first two soldiers were now too far from each other for the lancer to topple one into the other's path again, he chose a different tactic. He dove straight at the second soldier, who'd lost his helm when he'd fallen. The young recruit was startled for a split second by the sudden charge, and that was long enough for the lancer to clap his hands over each of the man's ears. The, admittedly underhanded, attack left the soldier stunned, if not deafened, and he staggered back shrieking. But the remaining two soldiers had closed the distance and Jerec heard a snow shovel's spade whistling towards his skull.

"Arrgh!"

Jerec ducked the swing as it suddenly went up and away, the soldier rubbing at an eye that was turning purple. A quick glance revealed Melanie, her slingshot quivering from having made the shot that likely prevented the lancer from having his skull bashed in. Taking advantage of the opening, Jerec grabbed the staggering soldier and hurled him into his compatriot, both men sprawling to the snow once more.

"On, you milksobs!" Zann snarled. "Alright, imen/i, a term I use in its loosest possible sense, if one of you doesn't beat me to the killing blow, it's latrine duty for the next month!"

Jerec, already breathing hard from warding off four enemies, felt himself blanch at the prospect of facing the far deadlier Zann, but he brought up his lance and met his former commander's charge. The lancer hoped to upset Zann's momentum with a wide, sweeping blow of his lance, but Zann saw right through this tactic, tucked into a roll, and vaulted to his feet while stabbing out with his ice saw.

The blow was too close, and Jerec's lance was out of position to block the blow. He had no chance of avoiding it…

…until something rammed into him and knocked him away from the whistling, iron teeth.

Tucking into a roll and then whirling to face Zann, Jerec's eyes went wide when he saw just what had knocked him clear of a likely deathblow…or, rather, who.

"MELANIE!" he shrieked, horrified.

He rubbed his eyes, his fingers coming away from the misting orbs with a sheen of tears, as he watched, petrified with disbelief. Somehow, in an act of supreme love, Melanie had charged across the battlefield and shoved him clear of Zann's blade. And she had taken the blow in his stead. The saw's iron teeth dug into her stomach, ripping open a red gash that ran from below one breast to the opposite hip and with a gurgling cry, she collapsed to her knees and sagged to the snow.

"Well, I always did like my women feisty," Zann opined, his words punctuated by a cruel chuckle as he wheeled on the lancer, his bloodied saw poised to strike again. "And now, for you."

Jerec didn't hear the words, he barely even recognized Zann or his customary malice. He'd forgotten where he was and what he'd been doing before this terrible moment. All he knew was that his one true love had just been killed by the, aptly named, evil genius behind the Mad King Ashnard.

A chasm of icy hatred yawned wide in the lancer's heart, swallowing all save one desire as cold as the frost of the fjords.

Zann. Must. Die.

That chasm, however, slammed shut when he realized that Melanie was still moving, clamping her hands to her wound in a vain effort to keep from bleeding out. And vain it was. Only a vulnerary or an elixir would keep her from death.

It would be nice if I actually had one! he inwardly fumed.

Then, he spied the satchel on Zann's belt. That might very well contain Melanie's salvation, if he could get it away from the onetime criminal mastermind. Zann seemed to sense his train of thought, for he patted the satchel, gave a predatory grin, and beckoned.

Knowing he was as likely to get himself killed in the attempt, but knowing it was Melanie's only chance, Jerec charged in. By the time he'd reached the smirking villain, Zann had been flanked by two of his men and the remaining pair were crunching through the snow towards Jerec. Thinking quickly, Jerec shifted his grip on his lance, grasping just above the pommel with one hand and sweeping it before him. One of the flanking soldiers leapt back to avoid the swinging silver blade while the other rolled under it and plowed one fist into Jerec's jaw.

The lancer barely felt the blow, instead delivering a quick elbow jab that crushed the offender's nose. The injured man fell back, screaming, but his fellows promptly swarmed Jerec. One swung his snow shovel against the lancer's shoulder so hard that his whole arm went limp. Another raked a gash into Jerec's face with his saw, laying open his cheek from the corner of one lip to the earlobe. The other two each snatched one of Jerec's shoulders and yanked him off his feet, pummeling him with their fists.

"There just might be hope for you men yet," Zann said, his tone rife with pleasure.

The lancer barely heard the words, however. Indeed, he barely felt the pain, even though he was aware that one of the blows had broken his nose and another had rattled his teeth. All he felt was the pounding of blood in his ears as the seconds ticked away, any one of which could see Melanie die in the snows of the goddess forsaken country.

Jerec tried to block the blows, but the other two soldiers pinned his arms. He tried to struggle, but their grip was too tight. And the blows came so fast and so relentlessly that they knocked the breath from his lungs and filled his vision with stars.

Jerec could not free himself…and yet he suddenly felt his captors' grip slacken.

"What the-" he heard one exclaim, his words cut off by the sound of metal grinding against metal.

The lancer's eyes cleared and to his amazement, he saw that Raphael had come to his aid. One of the Daein soldiers lay sprawled in the snow, clasping at a wound on his leg that must've come from Raphael's silver sword. How and why his former foe had chosen to intervene, the lancer could not say, but the soldiers' divided attention gave him the opening he needed. Tearing his remaining arm free of his captor's grip, he snatched up a dropped snow shovel and swung it against the nearest foe's head with all his might. The concussed soldier wobbled in place and then fell his full height. Quickly trading the shovel for his lance, Jerec resumed his charge towards Zann.

"You Crimeans, sub-humans, and sub-human symps are all alike," Zann taunted. "Just like cockroaches, there's always more of you that need stepping on."

Gleaning an interesting, and ironic, notion from Zann's words, Jerec grinned darkly and swung his lance at Zann's head. His foe ducked under the blow and had been about to tuck into a roll when Jerec drove his heel into his enemy's forehead. Zann was sent sprawling backward and shook himself back to awareness just in time to see Jerec, now airborne after having leapt skyward, plummeting towards him.

The lancer's impromptu leap ended with him landing on Zann's chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and leaving the former crime lord near to fainting.

"I'll take this," the lancer intoned as he tore Zann's satchel from his belt. "And I'll be back for you later."

Racing over to Melanie, who regarded him with fading eyes and unintelligible gargling, he tore an elixir free of the satchel. Uncorking it, he brought the vial to Melanie's lips and gently tipped in the precious healing liquid. Discovering a second elixir in the satchel, he tore it open and dumped it onto the wound. A gasp tore free of Melanie's throat as the liquid bubbled, hissed, and then evaporated, leaving behind only a cauterized scar. Melanie turned teary eyes to her lover and bloodied though they both were, smiled before she went limp. A panicked hand darted to her throat, but the lancer sagged in relief when he realized that, though weak, her pulse was regular and she was still breathing. She would live.

Now, to make sure it stays that way, because we're not out of trouble yet, the lancer reminded himself.

While Jerec had been occupied saving Melanie, he'd been dimly aware of the ruckus Raphael had been creating amongst the enemy, but the sounds of Raphael's frenzied yelling and the banging of his sword against armor had suddenly stopped. The lancer turned and saw Melanie's former betrothed sprawled and unmoving, either unconscious or dead.

Maybe, for all his faults, there had been some good in Raphael as well. But Jerec had no time to wonder or to grieve. With Zann and his men having lost interest in Melanie and with Raphael out of the fight, they were now quite interested in Jerec.

Knowing he had little chance of fighting off all five of them, and knowing he'd never make it if he tried to carry Melanie and flee, all he could manage was a desperate flailing of his lance, knowing it was a vain effort but determined to make sure they'd not harm Melanie again unless they went through him first.

With only one arm, which had already grown weary, Jerec tired quickly and his lance was torn free of his grip. Zann, though clutching his chest and wheezing, charged in and locked both hands around the lancer's throat. Jerec struggled with what remained of his ebbing strength, punching Zann with his good hand and kicking at his knees, but he was too exhausted to put enough force behind the blows. Zann squeezed tighter and tighter and Jerec saw redness creeping into his vision as his heart thundered in his ears.

Zann was a man who had enjoyed killing even before he was rightly a man, and he had indulged this delight more times than even he could remember. His devious mind could devise means simple and complex, quick or slow, by which to take another's life. And he had taken the lives of poor and rich, men and women, boys and girls, lowborn and highborn, laguz and beorc. Yet, through it all, each and all of his victims had heard him utter the same phrase as they expired.

"Tomorrow will not come!"

And it seemed it would not. Starved of air, Jerec's mind began to drift. Images from years gone by, and others more recent, danced before his eyes and voices of people long gone reached his ears, some in greeting and others beckoning.

Was that his father's voice? And if so, why did his words make Jerec want to draw away rather than approach?

The lancer could not say. But he could feel a warmth unknown in Daein stealing over him and hear the sound of birds chirping. Sounds of peace after a long road of wandering and bloodshed. Peaceful, seductive, and final.

He was nearly beyond the threshold when he suddenly heard a voice bellow "Atten-HUT!" and the grip on his throat suddenly vanished.

And so suddenly it left his head spinning, he was back in the snow. His throat burned and he felt so dizzy. He tried to speak, but only unintelligible rasping left his lips

What had stopped Zann from killing him? With a mighty effort, he turned his head and beheld his answer. Another Daein soldier, this one garbed in more elaborate ebony armor and fully armed with a steel lance and a sturdy round shield, was stalking towards the battered Zann and his barely standing men. The man who approached was a halberdier, a step up in the ranks from a regular soldier, and even Jerec's hazy vision couldn't miss the displeasure with which he regarded Zann and his cohorts.

"I don't know what this was about, and I frankly don't care!" the halberdier thundered. "Assaulting travelers on the road like common bandits? And you getting your arses handed to you like that?! I don't know what ticks me off more!"

"But Lieutenant Colton, that's—" one of the soldiers spluttered.

"Shut up!" Colton snapped. "I've got half a mind to have you all flogged. And as for you, Junior Sergeant Zann…"

Colton then stepped in front of Zann and tore a stripe off of his rank insignia.

"Correction, Corporal Zann," Colton continued, "you will explain what in the name of Ashunera's bra clasp happened here. Talk fast, and I'd better like your tone of voice, or you'll be Private Zann by tonight!"

Colton?! Jerec realized, remembering his onetime subordinate from what felt like a lifetime ago. Is he going to help me, or finish what Zann started?

He had no idea, but he also knew he had no chance against a fresh opponent. Gambling that maybe, just maybe, Melanie was right about there being some good Daeins in the world, he rasped and waved with his good arm, catching Colton's attention.

"Captain Jerec?!" Colton exclaimed, darting over to the fallen lancer. "Though I never expected to run into you like this. When did you get here? Why did you come back?"

Not able to do more than croak in reply, Jerec frantically pointed in Melanie's direction and then in Raphael's. Colton, who was always quick on his feet, darted to one and then the other, quickly checking the pulse of each Crimean.

"They're still alive," he reported, though his brows knitted in concern. ""You all look to be in rough shape, and I frankly don't know how you're still breathing. Don't worry, I know someone back in town who would be willing to help. Alright, you slugs, get some stretchers. I want these three under a roof five minutes ago!"

"What?! You would help this traitor?!" the irate Zann protested. "He's—!"

"I don't care if he's a well shaven wolf laguz!" Colton shot back. "You either get me my stretchers, or you'll slide down the ladder of the ranks so fast you'll have splinters up your arse cheeks! Is that clear?!"

The lancer was spent by the time he was deposited onto the stretcher, though he had just enough strength left to reach over and clasp Melanie's hand. Colton was talking to him, but the words came only as a faint buzzing. The last thought he had as his vision went dark was that Melanie was still with him, and he would never let her go.

Within minutes, the battered couple was loaded onto the stretchers and were being hauled off. Another stretcher was brought to Raphael, who was by then back on his feet and waved off the soldiers' begrudging aid. Barely noticing the man's departure, Raphael stared at the small procession ahead of him.

Had the sun risen at midnight, or a wolf laguz came up to him and meowed like a cat, he would not have been more astonished than he was now.

Melanie had been right…and yet, that didn't make sense!

The Daeins had twice invaded Crimea, causing untold death and destruction. Melanie had lost most of her kin to them, and yet remained convinced that not all Daeins were cut from that same bloodied cloth. It had seemed so clear and so obvious that Jerec had been telling elaborate lies to take advantage of Melanie and her parents, and that Daeins could never be trusted at all. Yet, he had just seen Jerec accosted by a group of Daein soldiers, who had as much regard for him as Raphael and Melanie's parents had.

That had thrown Raphael off balance, even before Zann had mentioned other "traitors." There had been rumors of Daeins who'd defected to Crimea during the Mad King's War, but Raphael had never believed them. Yet, something told him that Zann hadn't been lying, for the contempt in his tone was not easily faked.

Even more astonishing than that, these defectors still lived in Daein and were under the protection of the new queen?

Raphael had tried to shake off these musings, for they had no bearing on how he'd been humiliated by Jerec and he yet demanded satisfaction. Nonetheless, at that thought, Raphael had found his own beliefs and morals in conflict. Should he side with the Daein soldiers of all people, and overpower Jerec? Or should he side with Jerec, if only to ensure that he would not be cheated of the chance to avenge his humiliation?

That question was blown out of his mind when he saw that Melanie was wounded, and without even a second's thought, he'd raced in to protect her.

Yet, as the furious melee came to an abrupt halt, his somewhat addled wits informed him that Jerec, a Daein, had saved Melanie's life, and nearly lost his own in the process. And on top of that, another Daein had intervened, preventing all three of them from being killed by Zann and his men.

His head spun, days trudging through snow on an empty stomach already had his head full of fog, and that fog had just turned into solid ice. He couldn't make this make sense! Everything he'd known had just been turned on its head all in a matter of minutes.

And yet, what Raphael did know what that the very same man he had tried to kill had saved his former fiancée from certain death. And he had apparently been telling the truth about his past all along.

Raphael wasn't even sure what this meant, let alone if he could forgive Jerec and Melanie for hurting him and Melanie's parents the way they had. But, he also knew full well that he couldn't leave them. After what Jerec had just done, it wouldn't be right to not at least get the whole story. Still, Raphael grimaced, knowing that if the past few minutes were any indication, whatever happened next would be difficult to hear. And harder still to accept.

"Hey, you there!" Colton's voice rang out. "You with the bib!"

"B-Bib!?" Raphael spluttered, roused from his introspection. "I'll have you know this is a cravat! And furthermore—"

"Furthermore, either you get over here or you can spend the night in the barracks while these glorified court jesters are awaiting disciplinary action!"

Colton pointed to Zann and his men, who suddenly regarded him with predatory interest.

"Lieutenant Colton, you are a very persuasive man," Raphael conceded.

"I had a feeling you'd see it my way,"" Colton replied smugly.

As Raphael marched alongside Colton, the halberdier looked him up and down with a critical eye.

"You look like you've had some rough days," he said. "Well, my friend should be willing to share some food. And loan you something a sight more practical than that clown outfit."

Raphael had been about to object to such a slanderous comment, but a sidelong glare from Colton made him think better of it. Instead, he asked, "Why are you helping us? Melanie and I are both Crimeans. And, if what Jerec told Melanie back in Rivertown was true, about him leaving Daein, then…"

The halberdier's brow furrowed, almost as though he'd been pondering that same question for some time and had yet to come up with an answer.

"I was rather upset, yes," Colton admitted. "Yet, it didn't change the respect I had for Jerec as my leader and captain. We've been friends a long time and I've trusted him with my life. He's never once let me down, and I have faith that won't change now."

Even though he probably should not have been, Raphael was more than a bit surprised by Colton's admission. And, having heard Melanie express similar faith in others, even those she had just cause to hate, struck Raphael as much for the irony as they did for the conviction behind it, unproven and yet unshakable.

Raphael, by contrast, was shaken profoundly.

He had come on this nigh suicidal errand, believing Melanie had been coerced or seduced into running away from home by a man he was very much convinced was a deceitful ne'er-do-well, only to find that he'd been wrong on both counts. Then, as if that hadn't been enough, he had seen Melanie nearly give her life for Jerec and, in an irony that still had him in disbelief, he had banded together with the lancer to save her. And, to top it all off, if the three lived through this mad journey, and if Raphael returned home, it would be because of Lieutenant Colton's aid.

Everything had ceased to be simple, and was now so knotty and tangled that he could not tell one thread from the next.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," Colton observed.

"That's…an understatement," Raphael admitted. "It's been quite a day."

"I figured as much. So, what brings you here? The view of the fjords?"

"I…I guess I came here for some answers. Answers I thought I could give myself, but cannot."

"Give yourself answers? That's a neat trick. There's no greater prankster than the goddess. We make plans, she laughs, as they say. Still, if you want answers out of these two, you'll have to wait. The lady will need to be kept under until she's properly healed. As for Captain Jerec, you see those bruises around his throat? It'll be at least a day or three before he'll give you more than a good impression of a frog. You'll have to be patient."

Like I have a choice anyway, Raphael mused sourly. Well, maybe you were right, Mel. But, don't get too comfortable. We're not finished yet. Maybe I'd simply rather live with a broken heart than with the guilt of losing you and letting a man who saved your life die. Or maybe I want to find out if you were right all along. But, either way, I'm not giving up that easily. I, and my cravat, shall be vindicated.

Edited by Anacybele
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  • 7 months later...

I finally have an update on this! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the other stuff I've posted on this board. :) This chapter was originally meant to be short, but...yeah, my co-author blew it up. lol I kinda wish he wouldn't, but I feel I'd be disrespecting him if I removed anything after how hard he's worked to help me. Plus I love what he comes up with! And of course the general ideas are still mine. The characters too (though my co-author came up with Zann's name).

 

Part 7: Truths and Lies

The aftermath of Colton and his troops arriving on the scene, and Zann's arrest, had been a whirlwind of activity.

Once Zann and his men had been restrained and were awaiting disciplinary action, and in Zann's case, an appointment with the hangman's noose, several voices whispered hopefully, the Daein vagabond and his wounded lover had been bustled off on stretchers while their jilted pursuer, once someone had noticed the damage the frost had wrought on his exposed foot, had been snatched up and carried over one shoulder…

…well, that was what Raphael supposed, at least.

He clearly recalled Jerec and Melanie being laid onto stretchers after Zann had very nearly sliced open the latter with an ice saw and come within inches of strangling the former. From his rather uncomfortable vantage point, Raphael could crane his neck upwards and just barely make out the livid figure of Zann, still frightening despite being in shackles and able to do little more than rail and spit as his final hours amongst the living ticked away. And, whenever he tried to glance anywhere else, the world turned upside-down and he could behold little of interest save what he imagined was the backside of the ebon armor favored by Daein soldiers.

Very little of this made an impression upon Raphael, however. And, those events he could recall from beforehand seemed very much like a dream or a scene from one of the more fanciful plays he'd watched in the theatre.

Fantastical, astonishing, and, above all, impossible…

…except that it had happened anyway.

Melanie had been right. Jerec had been telling the truth. And, no less bizarre, Jerec had saved Melanie's life and nearly lost his own in doing so. And, on top of all that, the strange trio likely owed their lives to still more Daeins who'd arrived and saved them.

He had seen it all with his own eyes, and yet the realization still left his mind awhirl more than either his jostling journey or days of hunger could have managed. The thought promptly caused his belly, which had shrunken into a tiny shriveled husk of its former self from days with little to no food, to emit a feeble rumble that even Raphael had trouble hearing.

Just how long had it been since he'd last eaten? Two days? Three? More?

He didn't know. Indeed, his entire journey from Rivertown had seemed nearly as bizarre and implausible as the revelation of how greatly he'd misjudged Jerec's character, and maybe more besides. He remembered how Melanie's parents, and his own once they'd been informed of what had happened, had fumed and raged over Jerec's deceit. He also remembered how that blazing anger had been swallowed by a yawing pit of cold dread once they'd realized that Melanie had disappeared. After that, he could recall only a hazy impression of the countryside blurring past him as he barreled after the fugitive Daein, a silver sword on his hip and his heart afire with vengeance.

Looking back, it was hard to discern what plan or design might've been hidden beneath that haze of anger…if, indeed, there had been one. Perhaps he'd wanted to bring Melanie home, to save her parents from further pain after they'd buried so many of their kin already. Maybe the wound to his pride had throbbed too strongly, demanding satisfaction after Melanie had freely admitted that she'd been stringing him along all through their "engagement", and Jerec oh-so-obligingly offered himself as a replacement.

It was also possible that he'd recalled the unspoken, but thunderous, derision he'd sensed when news began to circulate that he'd failed to stop the fugitive Daein from slipping away and had been caught unawares when his "fiancée" had followed. Whatever it was that had driven him to go after them, however, had also driven out better judgement, for he hadn't bothered to change out of his formal attire nor to pack more than a pittance of food and other supplies for the road. Heady with rage and hungry for revenge, he'd simply grabbed what few provisions he could be bothered to find, hastening toward the Daein border as though he could see some phantasmal image of Jerec daring Raphael to come after him. And so, Raphael did…

…only to be met with day after day of wading through snow drifts, fleeing from enormous bears and packs of wolves, and the cold boring through his inadequate garb to pierce his flesh with needles of ice. But, the nights were even worse. Seemingly from the moment the sun began to dip westward, the needles of cold seemed to become frigid killing edges, digging deep and turning his flesh blue and numb…sometimes so much so that he could wiggle this finger or that toe only with the greatest of effort.

His fanciful garb offered a pitiful defense against the chill, having never been designed to withstand anything more frigid than the night air of Crimea's pleasantly cool autumn. And, when he'd lost his opera cape while scrambling through a patch of briars to escape a pack of wolves and had slipped free of a bear's jaws while leaving the beast to chew on one of his boots, the already tight grip of the cold squeezed him all the harder, turning his steaming breath short and hard while his limbs became more and more ungainly and an ominous torpor settled over his thoughts.

Perhaps it was that which caused the sudden moment of grim lucidity; or, it might've been the nights spent lying awake in those strange houses of ice while wolves bayed outside, or it could've been wandering in circles when the howling winds or the dazzling reflections worked to turn his uncertain course back upon itself again and again.

Whatever the reason, one thing became terribly, terribly clear.

He was going to die here.

If not from the hunger, or the cold, or by some wild beast, then he'd be killed by

Jerec in the very unlikely event he managed to catch up to the Daein vagabond.

Maybe he'd been too crazed by hunger or anger, or both, to care by then. Or maybe he had seized upon that burgeoning madness as a castaway might seize upon a piece of flotsam to stay above the water, so that he might limp to his end with some semblance of dignity rather than give in to the temptation to simply fall over and let the snow bury him. Whatever the reason, he had plodded on and on, barely knowing where he was going and yet unable to turn back.

Then, to his amazement, he'd managed to catch up to the fugitives. By then, his provisions had been gone for days, and he'd been nearly as skeletal and feral as the undead Terrors that had once ravaged the lands of fabled Valentia. And yet, though he was quick to admit that it would do little to change his dire fate, he'd demanded the right to settle his feud with Jerec through personal combat.

Recalling his rather unhinged state, and how his nigh-derangement had shown in his words and his fighting, some tiny, almost lucid part of Raphael had silently opined that such had the makings of an excellent mad scene…if not for the fact that he'd likely keel over before he could put it to parchment.

Of course, like any good play, such a confrontation simply could not end without a plot twist. And, this one was truly remarkable.

No program could've explained it, no long intermission could've given the audience time to dissect it, nor could any theater critic have seen it coming. And, more to the point, Raphael had nary a notion of what was going to happen next.

Normally, the thrill of the unknown, the anticipation of what might happen and the myriad imaginings that embellished the likely and conjured a thousand far less likely but still entertaining possibilities, had been a dearly held pleasure of Raphael's. It had been one that kept him squirming in his seat at the theatre, or made his hand tremble as he reached to turn the page of a gripping book, and it had also been one which had been scarce in much of his daily life.

Now, however, he found himself bewildered, uncertain, and more than a bit afraid…both of the long wait before learning what might happen next, and of finding out just what would happen.

He was shaken from his reverie when his jostling journey suddenly came to a halt. Unable to see past the mass of glossy black steel, Raphael could only guess from the creaking of the doors and the rows of upside-down pews on either side that he'd been taken to a local church, likely to be tended to by the resident doctors and priests.

At another time, the notion of accepting help from a perceived enemy would've left Raphael nonplussed at best and livid at worst. But, then again, that had been before his mad dash into the Daein wilderness. And, as he was reminded by another feeble rumble from his nigh-emaciated stomach, he'd likely not live long without their help…assuming they saw fit to give it.

He'd been less-than-hopeful on that count. After all, Jerec had deserted the country, and Raphael and Melanie were both Crimeans. Crimea and Daein had been hostile towards each other even before the recent wars and, if Zann's reaction was any indication, there'd likely be those who were rather put out by Jerec's departure. What's more, after having been defeated in the Mad King's War, occupied by Begnion, and then waging another war to drive out the empire before joining them in yet another war against Crimea and the laguz, these healers surely had no shortage of other patients whose lives they'd much rather save than a deserter and a pair of Crimeans…

…that's what Raphael had been expecting; but, once again, he got something very different.

After a hurried conversation between Colton and a raspy voiced man whom Raphael could not see, he was taken to what looked to be a modest bedroom, carpeted in thick blue fabric and with modest tapestries hanging from the walls. The insulation they gave the modest room offered a seemingly heaven-sent defense against the cold outside.

He was set onto a cot that, given the disparity between his height and that of its likely occupant, was more akin to a padded bench, and then stripped of his ragged clothes. At some point, a heady broth was ladled into his mouth, kindling a tenuous spark of life in his emaciated frame as well as dispelling the persistent reverie into which he'd retreated.

His shriveled stomach perked up a bit with newfound life, enough that it was desperate for more of the broth, but either this wish couldn't escape Raphael's chapped and bleeding lips or, if it did, no one saw fit to oblige.

His vision cleared in plenty of time to see that his frostbitten hands and feet had been carefully bandaged, even his fingers and toes had been individually swathed in linens…which, he belatedly realized, was all he was wearing.

Letting out what was supposed to be a gasp, but which sounded more akin to a raspy croak, he tried to cover his modesty, but promptly found his arms wrenched to the sides by mottled but surprisingly strong hands.

His cheeks blazing, he turned to see the face of an elderly but very spry woman with a face which was disturbingly similar to his late grandmother.

"You don't have anything I haven't seen before," the old woman intoned sharply, her no-nonsense tone furthering the resemblance. "Now, hold still!"

Some phantasmal memory of his grandmother's cane, which had a tendency to bruise the ribs of disrespectful youths, cowed Raphael into submission, and he sagged in mortification.

Thankfully, a very heavy – and very, very warm - robe was pulled over him, cutting short his embarrassment. The moment the heavy garment was cinched about his bony waist, relief flooded his veins, as though a Crimean summer day had somehow followed him to this bleak and snowbound land to renew his fading strength.

With this revival, however, came questions. And, many of them.

He honestly had no idea what he would've done had he managed to catch up to Jerec and Melanie, assuming the Daein vagabond didn't simply impale him on his lance.

Before stubborn pride and hunger chased away most of his wits, he recalled scattered musings about whether Melanie had seen through Jerec's façade and would've returned voluntarily or if the spell the Daein vagabond had wrought was too strong and breaking it would require bloodshed. Regardless, he hadn't expected Melanie to look so happy as she waltzed in Jerec's arms, and he certainly hadn't expected her to very nearly give her own life to save that of her Daein lover.

And yet, somehow, the look of abject horror on Jerec's face as he saw Melanie fall, bleeding out her life upon the snow, struck Raphael nearly as hard as the Daein vagabond nearly losing his own life to snatch Melanie back from death.

It also left Raphael in a most bizarre quandary.

Part of Raphael argued, vehemently, that Melanie should be brought home to her parents. Marv and Fayna were worried sick, and had surely lost too much already after having buried most of their family following the Mad King's War. They could provide Melanie with a proper home and put food on the table, even in such troubled times as Crimea now weathered. What's more, she had been unhappy in her engagement, something that galled at Raphael, and had left in desperation. That was a common enough story, on the stage and off, and Raphael didn't doubt that it might end in her parents seeing fit to forgive their daughter and finding a way to set her future on a happier course.

There were, indeed, many reasons for Raphael to take Melanie home.

And yet, another part of Raphael presented a very different argument.

Raphael, and indeed, most of Rivertown, had believed Jerec to be much akin to his ebon clad brethren, with the added vices of being a liar and a charlatan who could use his copious charms and combat prowess to steal the hearts of unsuspecting women. And yet, Raphael now had compelling evidence, perhaps even proof, that such was not the case. Though Jerec clearly had no compunction against sidestepping awkward questions and withholding information that might expose his infamous heritage, he was not some latter-day King Lima to coax one woman, if not more, into his bed one night only to coax another the following day, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. No such man would've risked taking a woman he'd already enjoyed on such a dangerous journey, let alone hazard his own life to save hers. And, it was obvious that Jerec was no coward, for he'd fought very near to his dying breath in a battle he had no hope of winning, all on the off-chance that Melanie might not die then and there.

Surely a man of such bravery and devotion would make a better husband for Melanie than a man she hadn't chosen, and whom she'd long seen only as a friend.

For as long as he or any of his intimate friends could remember, Raphael had a tendency to pace up and down when mulling over a difficult decision. And, out of reflex, he rose to his feet to do so again…

…yet just putting weight on his feet caused searing agony to race from his ankles right into his skull. It felt as though he'd stepped onto the pieces of several broken steel swords, while they were being melted down for reuse. Letting out a wail of torment, his knees buckled beneath him and he crashed to the floor, whimpering from the pain. He felt the old woman – who was, indeed, vastly stronger than she looked – pluck him off the floor and set him back onto the small bed, but his tear-filled eyes caught sight of a mend staff's glow as the woman tended to this latest injury.

"You idiot Crimean!" she bellowed. "Don't you know you can't be walking on frostbitten feet?! Look at this!"

So saying, she unrolled the bandages on Raphael's throbbing feet, and his still moist eyes went wide when he saw they were drenched in blood. And, when she turned the soles of his feet to such an angle that he could see them, his eyes nearly popped out ofhis head when he realized he could very nearly see the bone.

"Frostbite damages the skin, especially of the appendages," the woman said, her tone warning against any further slips. "You try walking on these before I say you can, and you just might leave on peg legs. Now, I can patch this up with a staff, but that's no substitute for a full recovery. You understand, young man?"

After he'd managed to suppress the recollection of a similar lecture following his decision to use his grandmother's cat as a target for his slingshot, and nearly losing an eye when the cat fought back, Raphael felt the blood drain out of his sunken cheeks when he realized that the woman had referred to him as a Crimean.

And, as he'd said very, very frequently, Daeins were dangerous people, especially to Crimeans whom they hated almost as much as they did the laguz.

The old woman seemed to catch his thought, and her customary sternness now seemed downright ominous. But then, Raphael's alarmed trance was broken when the woman abruptly rolled her eyes and shook her head, almost as though waving away a paltry irritation.

"Seems the "tolerant" Crimeans need to put less into their preaching and more into their practice," she said, not bothering to hide her derision. "Calm down, you child. I'm not going to hurt you. Heck, I'm going to do just the opposite and make you well."

"You…are?" Raphael choked out, barely able to force the surprised words past the lump in his throat.

"Yes, I am. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not exactly jumping up and down about having to treat two Crimeans, and that's leaving aside my knackered knees. But, I am a healer, and it is my duty to help those in need…even when I'm not thrilled about it. That's a concept you Crimeans have, I'm guessing? A sense of duty you must fulfill, even when you'd rather not?"

"Yes…but I think you'd find me a poor example."

Raphael wasn't entirely sure whether those self-deprecating words had been meant to elicit pity – and, with it, give the old woman little cause to reconsider helping him – or if there might be some deeper hidden meaning behind what he'd said. Whatever the case, she blew an irritated puff out of her nostrils and then reiterated that he was not to try and stand up under any circumstances without her approval. She also told him that he'd get his next serving of broth later, as his stomach would need to be gently filled with modest quantities of food that was easy to swallow until it could handle heartier fare, and that rushing the process could make him violently ill.

Ultimately, the woman left and returned with two others, each carrying bowls of warm water into which they guided his feet and hands. From what Raphael could gather, this would help to normalize the flow of blood to his extremities and, coupled with periodic uses of staves, would allow his body's natural healing abilities to mend the over time.

"Why not just use a staff to heal everything?" he eventually asked, though he felt like a fool the moment the words left his mouth.

"The same reason that you see staves used to stop the bleeding when someone has their hand cut off, but you never see it used to reattach or regrow the hand," the woman pointed out. "Some things, a staff can't fix. And, sometimes, it's best to use a staff for emergency treatment but to have the patient recover with their own body's resources. Why do you think we use staves to patch up broken bones but then use splits to hold them in place while they actually heal? Or, why we bother to set the bone first instead of letting the staff do that for us?"

"Actually, I didn't know any of that," Raphael admitted, suitably impressed.

Another irritable puff of the nostrils, and the woman muttered something about schools that delivered less than you paid them for. The next few minutes were spent continuing the treatment and, as the linens were removed and replaced with fresh ones, Raphael could see that the warm water had caused the blue tinge in his hands to lessen.

However, he was warned that, between the need to get his frostbitten skin healthy again and mend the damage to his feet, he could expect to be bedbound for days…at least.

Harsh practice had kept it from showing, but Raphael literally felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Though he schooled his features ruthlessly so that his expression betrayed no more than polite understanding, the prospect of being laid up at all, with little to nothing to calm his ever-racing thoughts, was daunting. That he would be so for days on end, without even being able to stand without risking permanent damage to his feet, was bad enough, but it grew even worse when he was informed that, since Jerec and Melanie would be kept under at least as long to recover from their own injuries, he nearly wept.

The first few hours spent bedbound in the dull and featureless room, with little

company save for his troubled thoughts and the old woman, the latter he was hesitant to talk to overmuch lest he say something that might cost him his place under her care, felt like a week as suspense, usually his favorite guilty pleasure, became a veritable torture.

As if Raphael hadn't had to swallow enough ironies already, salvation came in the form of Colton. The Daein lieutenant, of all people, choose to visit him and, after telling a

disbelieving, and mildly stir-crazy, Raphael that he'd been in the church for four hours instead of four days, Colton let out a deep chuckle.

This wasn't the first time Raphael had been laughed at by a Daein. It had happened during the wars as well, though that had always been a barking derisive laughter that had often caused Raphael to alternately fume with rage and then quail with dread that they'd next amuse themselves by laying open his guts.

This was…different.

There wasn't a hint of malice or condescension in it. Instead, it had a merry rumble that called to mind the common sight of an older man snickering at some childish antic he'd witnessed, partly with amusement and partly with nostalgia for days long past.

If Colton was aware of Raphael's unspoken musings, he gave no sign. Instead he pulled up a chair which the old woman had left in one corner and seated himself before the confuzzled Crimean.

"I know the accommodations leave a little to be desired," he admitted. "But, to keep your frostbite from getting worse, we had to get you somewhere warm. These rooms here have the best insulation outside of Daein Keep. It's a bit small, but it was the closest to the stairs."

"Well, there are worse places to sleep," Raphael mused aloud in an absent tone.

It occurred to him, and not for the first time, that he likely owed his life to this man. And, if there was one thing Rivertown natives prided themselves on, it was that a turn was never allowed to go unpaid…

…but, then again, how often did a Rivertown native find himself in debt to one of the people they'd blamed for upending, even ruining, their lives during the wars?

…Jerec's rescue of Heime and his family, as well as Melanie, notwithstanding, that is. The notion had Raphael's mind tied in knots. As shocking as it had been to see that Jerec was cut from a far different cloth than those Daeins who'd ravaged Crimea, slain her king, and terrorized her citizens, seeing another who might, just might, vindicate Melanie's beliefs – and, by extension, the likelihood that still more "good Daeins" might exist – still had Raphael stunned, jolted with astonishment and uncertain what to think.

Perhaps Colton sensed this quiet turmoil, for he quickly spoke once more.

"How you holding up?" he wondered.

It wasn't often that Raphael found himself at a loss for words, but, given all the bizarre things that had befallen him, the simple question left him quite disarmed.

"I'm just…so confused," Raphael admitted. "Sorry, but all my family and friends ever knew from Daein was hostility, hatred, violence, destruction, that sort of thing. You know, because of the Mad King's War. Not to mention Daein joining Begnion's invasion. I wasn't much inclined to believe Melanie when she said she couldn't believe every last Daein was like that, and I was even less inclined to believe anything Jerec said. But now…now it seems I and a lot of people have you figured wrong…"

"Not an easy thing to admit," Colton replied, a hint of empathy in his tone. "But remember, you're not alone in that. A lot of people were, and still are, pretty shaken up by the wars. A lot of what we thought we knew, we're not so sure about anymore. And, a couple of things that seemed ridiculous are happening right as we watch. So, Melanie? Who's she to you? She must've been important for you to chase her all the way here wearing rags and a bib."

"It's not a bib, it's a…oh, never mind. As for Melanie…it's a bit complicated. Our parents arranged for us to be married. But, just before she left to chase after Jerec, I overheard her admit that she never felt that way about me. She did feel it for Jerec, though. And, she said that, even before they'd met, she'd been trying to muster the nerve to do something to get out of our engagement. And…that made me…angry."

One of Colton's eyebrows arched.

"Angry?" he repeated, his tone betraying interest. "Not jealous, but angry?"

Again, Raphael was left stumped for an answer. It was true that he was angry at Jerec and Melanie for lying to, well, everyone. His pride had been left bruised and bleeding after he'd overheard their mutual confessions, not to mention after he'd sensed the derisive stares at his back once he'd let the prettiest girl in Rivertown slip his grasp and been made to look the fool by both her and her Daein lover. He'd also been deeply concerned for Marv and Fayna, who he cared for very much and who'd been terrified when their only daughter had disappeared. Yet, for all that, did he want Melanie back?

Perhaps Colton sensed Raphael's conflict, for he changed the subject.

"You probably have a lot of questions about Jerec, I'm guessing?" he said, to which Raphael nodded. "Well, I've got some stories that might help. He and I met back in boot camp."

From there, Colton spun quite a yarn. Apparently, Jerec had been, and in many ways, still was, a soldier's soldier. Though he had been the son of General Bryce, who was one of Daein's Four Riders and who himself was the scion of a family with a long history of service as men-at-arms, Jerec never once used that pedigree to his advantage and had sought to prove himself by outperforming his peers and earning the respect of hissuperiors. As was the custom during Ashnard's reign, he earned his place as an officer of the army by besting a captured, but still dangerous, laguz in combat, as well as several fellow contenders who'd believed, incorrectly, that his victory was suspect.

Though Colton had competed with Jerec for the rank of platoon captain, and lost, he'd never begrudged his former superior and happily called him a friend.

For some reason, Raphael found himself relaying what little he knew about the man.

Despite wondering if doing so might prove ill-advised, he told Colton about Jerec's alleged, but which no longer seemed so far-fetched, service to Crimea as an irregular during the Crimean Civil War and the Begnion/Daein invasion, as well as his working with the legendary Ike and the Greil Mercenaries on at least two of their missions.

That seemed to catch Colton's attention, as he blinked in stupefaction and his jaw creaked open. Raphael suddenly found himself wondering if he'd just insured that Jerec and Zann would be hung together, and was startled at how his guts turned to water at the idea. But, Colton just brought up one hand as though to dismiss the notion.

Though it was obvious that the Daein lieutenant had been startled by this revelation, Raphael's disbelieving eyes told him that Colton was more surprised than upset. After that, his disbelieving ears told him that the Daein lieutenant was opining aloud that this news did explain a few things.

"Not long after the Mad King's War, we were invaded by a splinter faction of the newly discovered wolf laguz," the Daein lieutenant began. "What was left of our army was stretched to the limit just holding our ground against them, so Jerec was ordered to seek help from Crimea. I swear, I thought he was going to explode when he heard the news. After all, not only to we lose the war, and much of our arable land and best soldiers, but Jerec had a helluva bone to pick with Ike. Jerec was in Nados Castle when Ike defeated the Black Knight and, when the traps were triggered to collapse the place, he was buried under the rubble for days before he dug himself out. By then, the war was lost and General Bryce, his father, was killed during the final battle at Melior."

"That…that's quite a story," Raphael said, somehow unable to doubt it. "But I got the impression that he and Ike had since become good friends. How is that possible if what you say is true?"

"You'll have to ask Jerec about that when he wakes up. But I can tell you one thing: when Jerec came home from that mission, he was different. Before, he'd deride Crimea and the laguz with the best of 'em. But, after, whenever someone threw nasty thoughts at Ike or spouted slurs about the laguz with him in the room, he'd either clench his fist like he wanted to punch them, or tell them that they weren't paid with peoples' taxes to gossip. Then, when the motion came before the provisional government, which Begnion had firmly in their pocket, to accept relief from Crimea, Jerec lobbied for it. He was laughed out of the chamber, literally, and, when the motion was rejected the next day, he just resigned his commission and vanished. Didn't tell anybody where he was going, didn't write after he left, nothing. Heck, I didn't even know he was still alive until I saw him with you and the girl."

Here, Colton paused and gave a chuckle.

"Jerec with a girl!" he said, as though he found it hilarious. "Back in the old days, half of us tried to set him up, only to get a lecture about how arranging blind dates for a superior officer, without even telling him first, didn't do much for your record. Still, it's a nice thought, him finding the right one at long last."

After giving an approving nod to the notion, Colton rose.

"Listen, I need to get back to my men," the Daein lieutenant said. "We're stationed here in Frostthorn, patrolling the streets and the surrounding countryside for bandits and other signs of trouble. I'll visit again around sundown, once my duty shift is over for the day. Until then, you focus on getting better. Don't worry, these people here are the ones I'd want treating me if I was in your place, so you can count on them."

Though hardly enthused at the prospect of being alone again in this strange land, Raphael gave a nod of understanding. The door creaked open and shut again, leaving Raphael alone in a room now crowded with new and bizarre thoughts.

They did not make pleasant company.

On Colton's next visit, he was all business.

At least, at first.

The Daein lieutenant had quickly struck Raphael as a dutiful man but with a hidden streak of joviality, something that set him apart from the more serious Jerec. Regardless, Colton was eager to get Raphael's testimony, such as it was, regarding the fight with Zann. Although Raphael was in no condition to leave his room, let alone make the journey to where the tribunal would be convened to decide Zann's fate, a Fair Witness, a court official charged with overseeing Raphael's bedside account and specially trained to sniff out any signs of inconsistency, collusion, or manipulation between the pair, was on hand to observe and make sure nothing untoward occurred. Once the Fair Witness was satisfied and had departed, Raphael voiced his confusion with regards to the situation. After biting his tongue to keep from asking why trying to kill a Crimean was even a felony in Daein, Raphael admitted that, what he'd seen of the man notwithstanding, he was perplexed that so many were so eager to see Zann hang.

In answer, Colton told the story of how Ashnard had enlisted the aid of Zann and his once thriving criminal empire, as well as how many Daein soldiers, including Jerec, had deeply resented taking orders from a man who'd lorded over bandits, pirates, murderers, smugglers, slavers, and other ne'er-do-wells. More than the depth of Zann's evil, and how he and Ashnard seemed perfectly matched in villainy, Raphael was struck by the opposition to such a man as Zann being a highly ranked officer.

That meant that Jerec, and who knew how many other Daeins, had consciences that railed against taking orders from a man of such unadulterated malice.

That, in turn, added a whole slew of items to Raphael's growing list of things he'd previously thought impossible and which had happened anyway.

"If that's true, then why did Queen Micaiah and Prince Consort Sothe keep him around?" he wondered, before he could think better of it.

"Well, nobody thought it was a great idea at the time," Colton admitted. "The sad truth is, our army was so short on bodies after the wars that we needed every willing soul we could muster. Crimea isn't the only place that's had a rough time lately. Anyhow, from what I gather, Queen Micaiah figured that Zann couldn't cause much trouble. Aside from him being demoted practically to the bottom of the ladder, his criminal empire was left in ruins after the Mad King's War. Many of the bandit, pirate, and slaver crews he'd commanded were either wiped out or captured. His stock also plummeted, both with the people he did business with on the sly and the people he needed afraid of him. Most of his subordinates, after seeing how disastrous his decision to join Ashnard turned out to be, deserted him and took as much loot as they could with them. So between that and Zann being saddled with the most trivial and isolated assignment the queen could find, she likely figured he'd still be useful to Daein but not be able to cause any trouble. Yeah, I know, it was a risky play any way you slice it, but I've seen the two of them make a lot of tough calls, and most of those turned out for the best. This one…just didn't."

"Sounds like you have a lot of faith in Queen Micaiah and Prince Consort Sothe."

"That I do. During the Begnion Occupation, I signed on with their Dawn Brigade to help regain Daein's independence. I honestly didn't think we had much of a chance, but a true Daein would rather die on his feet than live on his knees. The amazing thing is, the Dawn Brigade turned out to be the winning ticket. They were magnificent! But you know what the irony is? Many of them learned to be such great fighters during the Mad King's War…when they defected to join Ike."

"Wait, Zann said something like that when Jerec and I fought him. He was telling the truth?!"

"Indeed. In fact, that's probably what made the biggest difference. Those guys had gone up against superior numbers left and right during the Mad King's War, and won damn near every time. So, they knew a lot of tricks that helped us beat Begnion. Heck, we even won against Ike and the Greil Mercenaries during the Battle of Nox Castle."

Though Raphael remembered hearing rumors about such a feat, his reaction had been much different from the awe and near-reverence with which Colton spoke. Still, despite the shock of hearing such rumors confirmed, that the veritable titan of Crimea had been bested on the field of battle, and how the current peace did little to massage away the cold knot of dread his stomach tightened into at the thought of it, the chill of old fears was soon displaced by burning questions that had simmered too long.

The question of why Daein would side with Begnion during their war against Crimea and the Laguz Alliance.

When he managed to hoarsely whisper this question, Colton admitted that he didn't know. Granted, there were rumors that Begnion simply had bigger fish to fry in the form of the Laguz Alliance and the "disloyal colony" of Crimea. Begnion supposedly figured they'd rather have an ally in Daein than yet another enemy while Daein, eager to have Begnion in their debt and hungry for revenge against Crimea and the laguz, obliged.

By the look of things, however, Colton didn't buy it.

"After Pelleas was crowned King, though he ruled only briefly after the end of the Begnion Occupation, Queen Micaiah stayed on as his commander," the Daein lieutenant said. "When word reached us that Pelleas had chosen to side with Begnion, Prince Consort Sothe just about lost it. He went on and on about how we had no quarrel with the Laguz Alliance and how we shouldn't even be talking with Begnion, let alone helping them. I saw Queen Micaiah address the troops after that. She got them keyed up, I'll not deny it. But, I got the impression that she was bluffing her way through the speech. That she knew, or suspected, something she wasn't telling us. And, being the inquisitive soul that I am, I thought to find out by seeing Pelleas. I caught sight of him as I was being hauled out of Daein Keep by the guards. Something about forging an urgent missive to get past the gates, they said. Anyhow, he was slumped in a chair in the keep's inner garden. And, I swear, there was such sadness and desolation on his face, you'd think the goddess had just told him when the world would end and that he'd have a front row seat."

Here, Colton paused, his expression betraying a great deal of lingering anxiety over what he'd witnessed and still did not understand.

"As for how I got through it," he continued, "I still trusted Queen Micaiah and the

Dawn Brigade. They'd gotten us through one of the darkest periods of our history, and I figured that, since I couldn't have certainty, then I'd have faith. Faith that the people that made all that happen could pull it off again."

After hearing this, Raphael sunk into another long, contemplative silence. Having this peculiar account, he had to admit that he shared Colton's skepticism. That he found himself agreeing with a Daein was jarring in and of itself, yet that was but one strand of the veritable web of confusion rapidly being woven over his thoughts. If the Daein lieutenant was to be believed, and to his astonishment, Raphael did believe him, then that meant that Daein's reasons for siding with Begnion against Crimea and the Laguz Alliance were not only less cut and dry than most believed but that, whatever the truth was, it had also been every bit as shrouded in secrecy within Daein herself.

The then-King Pelleas had sided with Begnion, but had given no clear reason evento the commander of his army. And, when Colton snuck into Daein Keep to find out on his own, he'd seen Pelleas looking utterly distraught. And, that meant…actually, Raphael had no idea what that meant. Granted, a mind well accustomed to the twists and turns that unfolded upon the stage and in literature could devise many intriguing possibilities, but not one had even a lick of evidence to support it. A quick glance at Colton revealed that he'd likely been engaged the same fruitless speculation.

"Well, like I said, I have a lot less answers than I'd like," the Daein lieutenant admitted. "But, Queen Micaiah and Prince Consort Sothe got us this far. I'm willing to have faith they can get us a bit further. I'll be needing to leave soon, but I'll be back. You rest in the meantime."

Raphael nodded his understanding and, after the door creaked shut, the room once more felt much too silent and much too empty.

Raphael had half expected Colton to sport a military pedigree much akin to Jerec's, imagining that the Daein lieutenant had also come from a long line of soldiers.

When he voiced this belief during Colton's next visit, he was surprised yet again.

"Me, the scion of an old soldiering family?" he said from where he knelt on the floor with his back to Raphael, sounding amused by the idea as he arranged objects Raphael couldn't see onto a small shelf. "Nope. I come from a long line of stonemasons. I grew up splitting rocks to build castles and pave roads."

The Daein lieutenant's amusement faltered a moment later, however. Quiet agitation seems to seep into his posture and brooding puffs escaped his nostrils, as though he contemplated something that troubled him a great deal, and likely had for some time.

"I'm not sure if you know this," he said after a long pause, "but Daein was once more like Begnion and Crimea, and not in a good way. Those nobles who are practically born into the lap of luxury? We used to have those. And, people who were farmers or fishermen or coal miners or whatever because their forbearers were farmers or fishermen or coal miners or whatever? Had those too. Prior to Ashnard's reign, who you were born to pretty much guaranteed what you'd be until you died, whether you liked it or not."

Raphael once more found himself schooling his features into a mask of polite interest, as he'd often done when hearing words that struck a nerve.

And, this particular nerve was a tender one indeed.

"I was good at building stuff, and even better at breaking stuff," Colton went on.

"Most of my folks figured that was their lot in life. Figured they couldn't change it, so they made the most of it. Me? I hated every minute of it. And every time I heard someone tell me that that was the way it was and I should just suck it up, I wanted to put my chisel against their skull and hammer it in."

Eyeing Colton's copious muscles, Raphael suddenly found his brow beaded with perspiration.

"When I first heard that Ashnard wanted candidates for officers to build a new and far stronger army, I didn't think much of it. But, later on, I heard more and more rumors about how people who were born in hovels or who didn't have two coppers to rub together were being scooped up and sent into the arenas, and how those who won came away as officers. Beforehand, being a general, or a captain, or even a lieutenant was only possible if you were a blueblood. Still, all these rumors teased at the back of my mind. I'dwanted out of my supposed lot in life for a long time. Did I finally have the chance to make it happen? I figured I had nothing to lose by trying, so I threw my hat in the ring."

Here, Colton finally turned to face Raphael and a nostalgic smile was on his lips.

"Probably one of the best decision I ever made," he admitted. "Having a way to get out of a life I didn't want to live, to make something better of myself, and to be able to get recognition for who I was rather than what I was born as. Not to mention all the friends I made, like Jerec."

Here, the Daein lieutenant's mood seemed to sour.

"Back then, I really believed in what Ashnard was doing," he admitted. "Well, what I thought he was doing, at least. Creating a world where you can go wherever your strength and wits can take you, not to mention an end to fine soldiers and officers going undiscovered and silver spoon licking milksobs becoming officers when they can't be trusted to run a shaved ice stand. It was all very exciting, and I was proud to have been a part of it."

Before Raphael could comment, though the knot his tongue had tied itself into would've made that impossible, Colton's sour mood became downright putrid.

"And then, Ashnard just drove the whole damned thing over a cliff. I still don't know why he was so keen to fight Crimea and the laguz. In fact, a lot of people don't; and whoever does, they aren't talking. All I really know is that a lot of the people I trained with, people who wanted a better future than the one they'd inherited, lost the lives they'd worked for before they'd even had much of a chance to enjoy them. Gah! It still makes my blood boil!"

If Raphael's thoughts had been awhirl before, now they were well and truly dizzying. A cacophony of maddened thoughts, all roiling in his skull as the crashed and collided in a flurry of irreconcilable contradictions. He'd been prepared, in a deranged and nearly suicidal sort of way, to fight Jerec and for a time, he'd been nearly prepared to die with his pursuit unfinished. Yet, instead, he'd encountered much that nothing could have prepared him for. He'd long known the Daeins, in their ebon armored multitudes and faceless within their heavily shadowed helms, as the people he blamed whenever he laid out flowers before the headstones of friends and loved ones killed during the wars, and saw others doing likewise. But meeting Daeins who were not faceless, who had reasons that were understandable, though misguided, and quite possibly wrong, to follow Ashnard, and who had stories that he himself could relate to?

No whimsical flowering of his otherwise fertile imagination could've bloomed into something so bizarre, let alone convince him that it could truly happen to him.

Despite feeling that adding more to the hurricane of contradictions in his skull might cause it to burst, the same curiosity that kept him mortared in his seat at the theatre and turning the pages of a book for hours at a time forced him to pose another question.

"I couldn't help but notice that you use the word laguz rather than…er…,"

Raphael began, his words trailing off in indecision.

"Sub-human?" Colton asked, his normally friendly gaze hardening by the barest degree. "Well, bit of a story behind that. I think it's no secret that Crimea and the laguz have derived a lot of benefit from building a better relationship. Helped you win the wars, after all. I myself fought against the laguz, and it wasn't pretty. Still, I was impressed. They may be gruesome to look at, but I found them to be exceptional warriors one and all. I suppose what really shook me was when, after a battle in the Sea of Trees in Gallia, my unit was forced to retreat. We were unable to retrieve our dead, and the wounded fell behind. That sat ill with me, and I went back for whoever I could save, even though people told me it was suicide. I found the walking wounded, some others that had died in the fighting, and a few who had been killed as they tried to limp away."

A haunted expression crossed Colton's face, lingering for a long moment as he recalled what was undoubtedly a grim scene.

"I was angry at losing so many good men," he admitted. "In a lot of ways, I still am. But, once I'd calmed down, I noticed some…oddities. Laguz are fast, faster than nearly any beorc you could name. So, why did the walking wounded get away? For that matter, why weren't any of the bodies eaten? And, the ones that died, but not in the fighting? Well, I brought them back so we could do what honors we could for them, and Ilearned something very strange. First, even if they'd gotten to the healers, there would'vebeen nothing we could've done for them, as their wounds were too grave. That by itself wasn't surprising, but those wounded had been killed in fashions that would've caused them to die quickly, and with little to no pain."

Here, Colton paused and regarded Raphael soberly.

"They had been killed because the laguz had not only understood they were beyond healing, but because the laguz didn't want them to suffer," he intoned with much gravity. "That takes reasoning power and an understanding of dignity and mercy. Ravening beasts have none of that. Heck, most civilized people don't either. That kept teasing at the back of my head, making me wonder if there was more to the laguz than claws and fangs. Of course, not everyone's convinced. Queen Micaiah has put forth an agenda to reach out to the various laguz tribes, both for their help in rebuilding our country and to mend fences. You know how Begnion supposedly outlawed slavery twenty-five odd years ago, but hundreds of aristocrats secretly flouted the law? Well, hundreds of laguz refugees had been fleeing Begnion during that time. Some still are, and others are picking their way across hostile territory. The queen has been working to establish safe passage for them to reach Gallia, and I hear some of the laguz kings are taking notice. Still, Daein remains sorely divided about it. I doubt there's one family that hasn't lost someone, and forgiveness doesn't come easily when you're kneeling in front of a headstone that belongs to someone you cared for."

"And you?" Raphael asked before he could think better of it. "Do you still hate the laguz?"

"I don't know," Colton replied, likely breaking at least another three precedents in so doing. "Five years, or even the thirty years your King Ramon was on the throne, aren't enough to just end centuries of hatred. …but they are enough to make people start second-guessing a few things. As for me, I'll know when I know, I suppose. Either way, things are changing, and nobody really knows what they're changing into. As the old adage goes, you adapt or you die. And, the only thing that's going to get me is old age."

Despite a flutter of inexplicable amusement, Raphael once more found himself startled at how Colton's sentiments mirrored those of Rivertown after evidence that the laguz could be trusted had begun to reach the redoubtable, stubborn community. It had been no small matter, deciding that King Ramon had, indeed, been right to reach out to the laguz, but they'd ultimately made the right decision when the time came.

Might Daein do likewise?

Raphael was perilously close to believing they would, which broke yet another precedent in and of itself.

"Listen," Colton spoke up again, his tone grave. "I got new orders today. A group of bandits has been prowling near here, so my unit and I are being redeployed to hunt them down. We'll be leaving in the morning, and we could be gone for quite a while."

What else this meant was left unspoken, but Raphael could understand easily enough.

He found himself surprised when he realized that he would miss Colton's company, and more surprised still when he blurted out for Colton to be careful.

"Always am," Colton affirmed. "Besides, my son wants me to read to him while he's here, and I wouldn't miss that for the world."

"You have a son?" Raphael replied.

"Yeah, he'll be turning three in a few months. I have him board here often, hence that mattress that'll need to be re-stuffed after being under your arse for so long. Part of why I'm here is to get this room ready for him. You'll likely be well and home by then, but I wanted to get these books in here for him while I had the time."

By craning his neck, Raphael could see that the objects Colton had been arranging on the small shelves were a collection of children's books, arranged neatly behind a pane of glass sealed by a stout lock.

"This is the warmest place you can find out here, which is why most of the children nearby stay here when it gets this cold," Colton explained. "Still, you'd be surprised what's fair game when people need to keep the hearth going. Hence, the lock."

"What's your boy's name?" Raphael wondered, eyeing the books curiously.

"Sigurd, after the Grannvalean Holy Knight in the ancient tales of Jugdral. I wanted to name him something more distinctive, like Colton Jr., but my wife managed to get her way through…bribery."

"Bribery?"

"Yeah, the sort a gentleman never discusses in public. It is the best way to stay warm for passionate married couples, though."

"Well, there's a mental image I didn't need," Raphael then began studying the books in a vain attempt to shut out his imaginings of just how Colton and his wife settled their debate about their son…while possibly ensuring he'd have a sibling or two. Much to his surprise, he succeeded, as what he saw caused his brow to furrow.

"Can't say this is what springs to mind when I imagine a budding young soldier's reading selection," he admitted, trying to keep his words casual.

"Who said I want him to be a soldier?" Colton asked, his tone just as casual.

"You…don't?"

"What I said about how joining the army was the best decision I ever made? I meant every word of it. And I'd be honored if my son wanted to follow in his old man's footsteps. But I also know that it's not for everybody. The training we go through is rough, and the real work is dangerous. And even when it's not, you're still far from home, wondering if your family is doing well while you're gone…and wondering what you're missing while you're away. If Sigurd decides he does want to be a soldier, and he makes that decision with a clear head and both eyes open, then I won't stop him. If he chooses something else to do with his life, and it's something he loves and can make a good living off of, then I won't stop him."

Here, Colton heaved a deep, wistful sigh.

"You always want your kids to have a better life than you did," he went on. "Well, that and for them not to grow up so darned fast. But, still, sooner or later, they're up and flown. But if Sigurd ups and flies to something he loves? Well, that'll mean a lot to all of us who didn't have the chance when we were younger. However and whenever that happens, though, I'll have his back. Parents have their kids' backs."

Again, that overly tender nerve writhed at these words, and Raphael only absently acknowledged Colton's farewell, wishing the Daein lieutenant luck as the door once moreyawned wide and then creaked shut.

After that, the room was silent. Even Raphael's ever roiling thoughts had settled into a low simmer as the cacophony of confusion in his head had quieted for a time. He still felt that astonishment. If anything, it burned hotter than before. But, Colton's talk about his son had caused a hush to fall over the inside of his skull, not too dissimilar fromwatching the climax of a brilliant performance where even the most noisome of tongues fall silent as though all watching were at a loss for words and feared speaking might cause what they beheld to unravel.

And, as much as it pained him to contemplate the latest revelation from Colton, Raphael could not turn away even if he'd wanted to.

Though he'd only known the Daein lieutenant for…was it a few days or a few hours? It felt like a few weeks, but that likely was due to Raphael's burgeoning stir-craziness. Regardless, Raphael was strangely, bizarrely, and yet indisputably, certain that Sigurd was very lucky to have a father who was willing to let his son choose what course his life would take.

Raphael's own father was…different.

Was it that last thought which swayed him? Or, was it teasing at the back of his mind long before, when he saw Jerec nearly lose his own life in order to save Melanie's? Either way, Raphael found himself thinking that, if there were other Daeins like Jerec and Colton, then maybe Melanie's seemingly blind faith might be vindicated. And soon.

Raphael could not forget what Daein had done to him and his country during the wars, and he couldn't even be sure if he could forgive. But now, the notion that there were Daeins who were different that those who still haunted his nightmares, and who his countrymen might one day count as friends, was one he could now believe in.

After his decision was made, and after finding that neither his thoughts nor his much-too-small bed would let him sleep, he idly glanced at little Sigurd's collection of books. Unsurprisingly, the reading selection of a boy just shy of his third birthday wasn't terribly literary, but one title did catch his eye. If he remembered correctly, that same book was one he'd read after the strange lines on paper became decipherable to him. It was a fanciful tale about two children, both of whom were bored out of their minds after being forced indoors by a sudden downpour. Later, they heard a bump, and that bump made them jump, and in came a cat wearing a great striped hat. The three made much

mischief, wreaking much havoc upon the house, until the fun got a bit out of hand with the children's mother nearing the door. And then, as if by magic, the cat who wore the hat conjured a bizarre contraption that, even more bizarrely, left the house looking pristine and the mother none the wiser.

There had been no shortage of commentary on how the cat who wore the hat vaguely resembled a laguz of the beast tribe, which led some in the literary community to speculate that its publication has been arranged by then-Prince Ramon, or that he'd written and published it himself under a pseudonym, in order to discreetly spread the notion that the laguz were not nearly as dangerous as some believed and that beorc could find ready friendship with them.

Having met a few of the proud and stoic feline warriors amongst the laguz of Gallia, Raphael could help but feel that their reaction to such a clownish portrayal was…mixed.

Still, if such rumors were true, then it added yet another irony to the now enormous list in Raphael's head. But, it also underpinned both Colton's resolution to let his son find his own path in life and Raphael's newfound belief that good Daeins did exist after all.

Unfortunately, it also reminded Raphael that his still healing hands and feet were uselessly bandaged, that he was still far from home, had many questions whose answers eluded him, and hadn't even the freedom of movement with which to pass the time.

A rather pointed line from that book sprang to mind as he resigned himself to a long, long wait.

"'So all we could do was to sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!'" he recited morosely. "'And we did not like it. Not one little bit.'"

Much like Raphael, Jerec had had to pass the intervening time as best he could.

And, much like Raphael, that had proven…interesting.

Given how severely they'd been injured, Jerec and Melanie had been placed into comas through the use of sleep staves so that they could be tended to without the risk that they'd wake up and start thrashing about in an opportune moment. On one hand, this was beneficial for the healing process, especially for Jerec since Colton reported that his near strangulation had caused his throat to swell to the point where he wouldn't be able to speak for a long while and he'd need time to get his voice back. Melanie herself was effectively out of danger, though the wound she'd taken had required long hours of dedicated surgery. But on the other hand, it left the already stir-crazed Raphael nearly mad with boredom and impatience. Besides, hadn't Jerec mentioned that he'd returned to Daein on some sort of mission? The longer he was out cold, and Raphael would've kicked himself for such an atrocious pun if his feet were working properly, the longer he was delayed. Two days passed by as both remained abed, their rooms redolent with the smell of incense designed to ease their breathing while the clerics used a clever technique to feed them, ladling broth down into their mouths and stroking their throats to cause them to reflexively swallow despite their sedation.

While Raphael tried, unsuccessfully, to find enough interest in their techniques to pass the time, Jerec was once more visited by strange dreams.

He encountered Rose Thorn again, who'd apparently been meditating and had sensed him once more. As before, the kindly shaman's presence was welcome, as a little-known side effect of sleep staves were that one's dreamscape became distorted. While some reported bizarre nightmares, Jerec beheld twisting colors and harsh light that, while unpleasant and sometimes painful to look at, couldn't hold his interest for long.

The Daein vagabond much preferred his talks with Rose Thorn and her fellow shamans, Indigo Talon and Silver Fang, who'd joined them later on. After relaying to the latter two what he'd been up to since the hunt for Ettard, the three startled him with news that they'd made contact with laguz shamans from Altarais.

Now that it was known that Altarais was not only out there, but its approximate bearings, meditating shamans on Tellius had been able to project their thoughts there and, after convincing several of their incredulous counterparts that they were not some sort of evil spirits, they'd managed to glean much about the peoples and countries of Altarais…

…including how her very future now balanced upon the edge of a knife.

Though the beorc of the kingdoms of Talgria and Cilae, as well as the wolves of Eraghoa and the ravens of Perais, had banded together against Melora, they were on the ropes. A clever campaign of feints and misdirection had caused the bulk of the Allied armies stationed in Cilae, nearest Melora, to expect attack from the Meloran border and/or the sea, leaving Cilae's capital of Jerusa vulnerable to an enemy force which had been secretly shipped in and mustered far inland to the south. This had left a huge portion of the Allied troops effectively trapped behind enemy lines, cut off from resupply, reinforcement, or rescue. Worse, with the capture of the raven messengers, communications between the Allies had broken down, leaving their supply lines in chaos and generating confusion amongst their remaining troops.

Unsurprisingly, Ike was keen to save the day…which, Jerec had to admit, would be a feat, even for him.

Still, Ike had found many able companions during his new journey, in particular

Azura, the newly inducted Lady of the earldom of Elhorhi and a veteran mercenary, as well as Bryan, a lance-wielding captain in Talgria's royal army and the lost prince of the beorc nation of Astryn. Apparently, with Bryan's heritage now proven, the band sought to bring Astryn into the war, along with her neighbors; the dragons of Orenias, the hawks of Recathe, and, possibly, the abrasive lions, tigers, and cats of Larame.

It was a chancy thing at best, as Astryn's queen, childless and her physical and mental faculties crumbling, was losing control of her realm to bandits who now had free rein and overambitious nobles who were keen to run one another through to gain the throne. And, that was leaving aside Larame's stormy history with Astryn and Orenias, which made this strategically vital ally one who'd not be easily persuaded.

All in all, the chances of Ike, Azura, and Bryan pulling it off were about the same as Jerec living through contracting Brain Fever while lost and alone in the Gallian jungle.

And, since that impossible thing had been laid to rest – with Ike being not-so-coincidentally involved – Jerec was willing to take that bet.

Furthermore, if it did work, it could alter the course of the entire war. From what he knew of Altarais' geography, success in rallying the nations of southern Altarais wouldopen a second front on Melora, as her southern border was huge and would be difficult to defend effectively. It would require a vast number of troops to repel southern incursions, troops that wouldn't be available for combat elsewhere, as well as dramatically shrinking Melora's numerical advantage over the Allies, perhaps allowing the Allies to seize the initiative.

If they could hold onto it long enough, what seemed a hopeless last stand might instead become a battle. A winnable battle.

The temptation to travel to Altarais and join the fight was palpable, but Jerec reluctantly quashed it. Aside from his own family matters, trekking all the way back to Crimea, scraping together the money for fare, sailing to Altarais, and tracking down Ike's band could take months.

And, the war might very well be over by then. So, once more, all he could do was have faith that Ike would, indeed, save the day once again.

Rose Thorn and her fellows could not stay with him for the entirety of his coma, asthey could only meditate for so long before the strain took its toll. They likely could have back when they were a few centuries younger, however.

Why, when they were young ladies, they'd had to meditate for four days at a time without a break after walking around the grounds of their retreat in the snow with no shoes. Not like those lazy children nowadays.

Well, they didn't actually say that, the Daein vagabond just thought it, snickering mentally. Unfortunately, since the three shamans were presently inside his mind, they read his thoughts as easily as if he'd shouted them aloud…

…which went a long way towards explaining why they looked rather…displeased.

And, since a shaman in another's dream could influence the dreamscape, it also shed quite a bit of light on why Jerec suddenly found himself choking on Stinkweed.

Suffice to say, he learned to be very, very respectful of his elders.

Meanwhile, in the waking world, Jerec and Melanie themselves rested in the same room together, both heavily bandaged and nearly buried under warm white blankets. Since they remained in their sleep staff induced comas, they were checked on periodically by the doctors, who would feed them and turn the comatose patients over at certain intervals to prevent bedsores. All in all, no complications arose and, even better, the swelling about Jerec's throat had gone down enough that he'd be able to speak once he awoke.

The pair still had a long journey ahead of them, and both warm quarters and soft beds would likely be a rarity as they pressed on. And, other dangers were likely as well.

At the moment, however, they were peacefully alone together, enjoying an all too brief moment of untroubled sleep...

…the Daein vagabond's incredulous "houseguests" notwithstanding, that is.

After a stint of less-than-voluntary participation in the laguz shaman's training regimen, which was clearly not designed for someone without a tail, Jerec's eyes, at last, fluttered open. After breathing a sigh of relief, he tried to rise and take a look around, but found that the effort left him sagging back in exhaustion. What's more, his vision was quite blurred for long moments and he couldn't tell at all where he was. As his vision slowly cleared, he saw that he was lying in a modest, but warm bed. He'd been stripped to his smallclothes, with much of his body swathed in bandages dotted with lumps which from prior experience, he knew to be poultices meant to combat swelling and infection.

Recalling how he'd often found himself like this when training had gone awry brought back more than a few memories, such as that one time he'd taken a rather overzealous blow to the chest while sparing with Colton.

Wait, Colton?! the Daein vagabond snapped to wakefulness.

And suddenly, he remembered what had happened. Frantically, his eyes darted about the still hazy room, searching for Melanie. It only took another second for her voice to call out to him, however.

"We have to stop meeting like this, Jerec," she said. "People will talk."

Jerec followed the voice to see Melanie. To his profound gratitude, she seemed unharmed. She was lying in a bed near his own, looking drowsy but as happy to see him as he was to see her. She began gradually sitting up…without anything on her upper body other than a bandage around her waist where she'd been nearly cut open before. As she rose to a sitting position, the covers slid away, giving him an unobstructed view of her breasts. His face soon turned redder than Titania's hair. Thankfully, it didn't take long for Melanie to notice and realize why her lover was blushing so hard.

"Eep!" she gasped and used her arms to cover her modesty.

"Well, "people" will have a lot to say," Jerec replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, stop it," Melanie playfully retorted, throwing a pillow at him. "I walked right into that one though, didn't I?"

"Heh, yeah, but that was impressive," he commented. "You're not even standing and you hit me right in the head there."

"Well, I can stand if you want me to," Melanie offered coyly, only to receive a very confused look from her lover. "Oh, Jerec, really; I'm not completely naked…"

Jerec then blinked in slight embarrassment.

"Ah…sorry about that," he said, trying desperately not to dissect the…imagery her words had conveyed. "Although…I hope whoever treated you didn't touch you inappropriately."

"Jerec," Melane intoned, once more regarding him with clear eyes and earnest words. "I'm a student of the healing arts, remember? I know that people's modesty can often take a backseat to their lives. I've had to treat and disinfect wounded people in places…I'd rather not see, but it's worth it if it saves a life."

Once again, the Daein vagabond found himself impressed by Melanie's grit. More than a few other girls would've been horrified to find themselves nearly naked in a hostile country with a similarly unclothed man they'd known but mere days, and after having a brush with death no less. And, most of those same girls would've blamed Jerec for all of it.

On both counts, he wouldn't have blamed them.

But, Melanie was different. Not just in how she refused to be cowed or panicked by what they'd been through, but also in how her softer side yet shone through. As she clutched the sheets to her and Jerec tried, unsuccessfully, not to watch her too closely, she fought down a girlish blush and then scanned the room. After a moment, however, her brow furrowed and her mouth compressed into a thin, grim line.

"Oh dear, I don't see our packs anywhere," she said. "Whoever brought us here must've put them somewhere else. I hope they're at least in this building! Whatever it is."

"Ugh, damn it, I hope so too," Jerec said.

He then studied their surroundings more thoroughly. The walls and floor were fine stone, covered with carpets and tapestries for insulation, and the beds, though modest, were definitely in much better shape than what they'd had at the Raven and Rat. The door was a massive oak affair, its antique style lock and hinges suggesting it might very well be older than Daein herself was. Such an accoutrement was scarce outside of the old estates that dated all the way back to before Daein first gained independence from Begnion, and it was doubtful any of those would house a Daein deserter and his Crimean lover. Therefore, this could only be one sort of place.

"We're in some kind of church or sanctuary," Jerec realized. "Must be the local one in Frostthorn."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Melanie opined, sounding relieved. "Crimea has many of those too, and they're used for treating the sick and wounded sometimes."

"Exactly. Well, I'm glad we got out of that situation alive…"

"Same here…"

Jerec sighed before speaking again, knowing that this escapade they'd gotten involved in could have other consequences yet to come. And even if that didn't happen, another such hostile encounter could happen tomorrow. Or the day after that.

Or that day after that.

The notion caused his heart to sink until he swore he could feel it palpitating in his stomach. Though he'd warned Melanie of the dangers she'd face repeatedly, he'd still hoped against hope that long absent luck might choose this moment to smile upon him.

But sadly, his past came back to bite him, and Melanie had gotten caught in the middle.

Being warned that she'd face dangers was one thing, having those dangers come barreling at her in the form of five armed men out for her blood was quite another.

And, so too was having a brush with death.

Melanie had chosen to follow him on a whim, both swept away by her blossoming affection for a handsome and brave stranger and desperate to escape an unwanted betrothal, but it surely must be sinking in what she'd gotten herself into. Sure, she could handle sleeping out of doors and having to hunt or forage for every meal, but what about evading, or fighting off, those who'd want Jerec dead? Between those Daeins who hated him for leaving the country and those Crimeans who'd blame him just as much as any other Daein for what happened during the wars, there'd be no shortage of people who'd want his blood and would just as likely to try and take Melanie's while they were at it.

If she changed her mind about being with him after this, he wouldn't blame her.

"I'm sorry," the Daein vagabond intoned, painfully aware of how small and feeble the words were. "This all happened because of my reputation here. I'd hoped we could finish our business and be gone without anyone even realizing who we were, and we might've if I hadn't lost control of Raphael."

"Jerec, you did everything you could," Melanie offered consolingly, though her words did little to assuage his guilt. "You could've killed Raphael so we could get away sooner, or left him to his fate once he couldn't fight any more. Instead, you saw that he wasn't in his right mind, tried to talk him down, and even went out of your way to avoid hurting him. That Zann realized who we were? I don't blame you for that, or even Raphael. It was just bad luck."

"Your parents might see it differently. A lot of people would. This probably sounds silly, but there were times I found myself hoping that, one day, they'd change their minds about us. They would never let us be together after this though… They would think I attract too much trouble. And I'm starting to think that's true."

"They probably would agree with that, sadly… But honestly, Jerec, you think that's going to change anything between us? I won't just stop loving you simply because a few people attacked us."

"Yeah, but… I can't help but imagine how much safer you'd probably be without from me… No matter how hard I try to protect you, someone else could come after us later."

"But you did protect me back there, didn't you? You fought off five men single-handed, snatched that medicine right off of Zann's belt, and used it to save me. That was so brave of you. And…well, now it's my turn to sound silly, but I'd always dreamed of a gallant hero charging to my rescue. Whatever else happened, you saved my life and made a little girl's dream come true."

"Maybe I did, but… We may not be so lucky next time."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I still love you more than anything and anyone. I just can't change that at all. And you've shown me that you feel the same, not just by your gallant heroics, though I do appreciate those, but also because you're so kind and how much you care for me."

At this, Jerec couldn't help but smile. No matter what reasons he gave for her to part ways with the Daein vagabond who'd led her into such a meager and dangerous life, Melanie loved him and only him. And no matter what dangers they had faced and which may yet cross their paths, that wasn't going to change. Despite the persistent soreness in his body, and either forgetting or disregarding his state of undress, he forced himself to stand and approached his lover. Without a moment's hesitation, Jerec swooped in and pressed his lips into hers. Melanie was caught off guard for a second, but returned the gesture all the same, her sheets falling away forgotten as her breasts ground into his more muscular form while her slender arms curled around his neck. They soon forgot their near nudity, their unknown surroundings, the dangers that yet lay ahead, and everything else as Jerec leaned forward until Melanie was nearly dipped into the mattress beneath him, craning her swan-like neck so he could lavish her throat with his lips.

As Jerec was gracing Melanie's neck with kisses and stroking her arms, there was a knock at the door. The couple, startled, fell backwards onto the bed, Melanie squealing as she rushed to conceal her exposed chest by pressing herself against Jerec.

"Ack!" Jerec yelped as he toppled onto the bed, pinning Melanie beneath him.

The door then opened to reveal a certain familiar presence who soon made himself known.

"OH COME THE HELL ON!" Raphael boomed in annoyance. "REALLY?!"

Once the now mortified couple managed to force themselves to look, they saw that Raphael, who was now cringing as he stared fixedly at a blemish in the floor, was seated in a chair whose legs were fitted with casters, allowing the occupant to be rolled from room to room. He wore a heavy robe, no doubt to ward of the chill, while his hands and feet, both of which must've still been mending, were tightly wrapped in bandages. His slightly exaggerated disgust aside, Raphael did look much better. His cheeks were no longer so sunken nor was there that wildness in his eyes. Pushing the chair was a graying woman who looked to be one of the healers. Unlike Raphael, she fixed Jerec and Melanie with an unflinching glare, though whether it was because she knew who they were or simply disapproved of their…spontaneity, the Daein vagabond couldn't tell.

And for obvious reasons, he wasn't keen to ask.

"Ah!" Melanie gasped. "Raphael! I'm sorry, I swear this isn't what it looks like!"

"Yeah, though it must surely be quite awkward to see…" Jerec admitted as he and Melanie sat up, the latter still pressed against him with her arms around his neck.

"Oh, you're just half naked in one bed together and making out for absolutely no reason," Raphael retorted, finally meeting their eyes. "Right! And as if I haven't been hurt enough already!"

"Raphael, really now," Melanie pleaded, her cheeks growing redder by the moment. "I get that you're still hurt, I really do, and you have every right to be angry, but we were half naked before we woke up. I don't know what the doctors did with mine and Jerec's clothes, honest!"

"What she said, and we also had no idea you were coming," Jerec added. "So seriously, chill out…sorry, bad choice of words. Calm down, please."

Raphael, his lip curling in disgust at the backhanded reminder of his still lingering frostbite, glanced around for a couple moments. Ultimately, he realized that the pair's packs were indeed nowhere in sight.

"…Wait, your packs aren't here," he said, seeming to deflate slightly. "I guess the doctors wanted to put them somewhere else for safe keeping while they removed some of your clothes to treat you. They probably washed and mended them too, since they got pretty torn up and bloody. Fine then. But you still could control yourselves a little better! That was embarrassing and still did nothing for my mood!"

"Okay, you're right that we might've been going a bit too far," Melanie agreed. "And it couldn't help you at all to have seen that. We're sorry…"

"Yeah," Jerec agreed. "I'll admit, I'm still angry your earlier actions, but they were understandable to a degree and we only literally added insult to injury here. That wasn't right."

"Glad we understand each other," Raphael replied, and to Jerec's surprise, he almost looked chastened. "Now…um…"

"Oh, Raphael," Melanie realized. "You came to check on us though, right?"

"…Yeah, I did," Raphael admitted. "But not just that. We…have a lot we need to talk about."

"I would agree," Jerec said. "But, uh…could we get our clothes first? It'd make this conversation a lot less awkward."

"…Oh, right, that's a good point."

Raphael looked like he wanted desperately to rise and run this errand himself, whether out of mortification or stir-craziness or heartbreak, but a restraining hand from the stern faced old woman stopped him. She then left the room, calling over her shoulder that she'd handle it…and that contraceptive herbs were not presently in season.

With that, all three felt a downright summery amount of heat suffuse their cheeks while Melanie pulled away from Jerec, Raphael once more eyeing the blemish in the floor. She kept her arms clasped around her torso to conceal herself, and the three lapsed into an impossibly awkward silence.

After Jerec's embarrassment had subsided enough for him to think straight, he worked to take stock of their situation. And, it wasn't promising. Aside from his armor and weapons, not to mention their food, clothes, and equipment, being who-knows-where, he still had no idea whether they were presently in the hands of those who might be friendly to them. His recollection of what had happened after Zann had nearly strangled him remained hazy, but he was certain he'd seen someone he knew he could trust. But, he was drawing a blank on who that might've been. If that was so, could it mean they'd be able to recuperate and plan their next move safely? And, if so, just what would their next move be? Confirming their location, and where they lay in relation to Tauroneo's mansion, was essential, as was ensuring they had the supplies for the trip.

Another consideration, however, would be what to do with Raphael. The Daein vagabond couldn't be certain whether or not the jilted man might cause further trouble.

After all, his last tantrum of deranged jealousy had nearly cost all three of them their lives. And, even if he'd learned his lesson, that raised a whole slew of questions. If he stayed with them, assuming both men could stomach the idea, could proper clothing for travel in Daein's wintry landscape be procured? Could he learn how to survive in the wilderness as Melanie had? Probably not with her quick-witted deftness, but could he learn nonetheless? And, if not, was there some way he could be taken back to Crimea? If that was to be done, secrecy would be imperative, as would enlisting someone who'd be willing to do Jerec a favor…which, he imagined, would be a very short list indeed.

As he mulled it over, the Daein vagabond studied his (former?) rival. It was obvious that Raphael still felt some lingering effects of his frostbite and emanciation. Apart from his bandaged extremities, he still looked sore and numb, and his cheeks were still sunken in a good bit more than when they'd met in Rivertown. Jerec knew that he had been very lucky that none of his limbs had to be amputated, for he'd seen many others who were far less fortunate after getting lost in the snow.

He didn't voice this, however, for Raphael looked like he had a great deal on his mind. And, indeed, Raphael did. He had no idea how this nigh-mad errand would end, but he was quite certain that bringing Melanie back to Rivertown so they could go through with their wedding was not going to happen. And, though at least a part of him had made peace with that, he doubted that Melanie's parents, or his own, would be as forgiving. It was also doubtful that his failure to bring back "his" woman would do much for his already tarnished reputation in Rivertown.

Not only would his parents be displeased, and his neighbors see him as even more of an inept fool, but a certain dream he had would probably become impossible.

And yet, in spite of it all, he could've either starved or frozen to death amidst the snow, or been killed by Zann and his men, if not for the unlikely aid of Jerec and Colton.

I have to admit… I owe these Daeins my life.

Still wondering how he was going to explain any of this to his or Melanie's parents, Raphael nearly jumped out of his wheeled chair when the door creaked open.

The stern faced old woman entered, beckoning for a pair of younger women who hauled in Jerec and Melanie's clothes and packs.

Jerec and Melanie thanked the woman and her aides and quickly dressed. Jerec took a little longer due to his chest plate and cloak, but he found that both had been mended skillfully and would serve when they took to the road again…assuming they could figure out what to do with Raphael.

The room was quiet for a long moment as Raphael, at his own request, was wheeled closer to the now clothed couple. He seemed quite anxious, and if not for the copious bandages about his hands and feet, would likely have begun pacing and twitting his fingers. For a long time, no one was sure what to say. Jerec was afraid anything he said could set Raphael off again, which could result in lasting harm, and Raphael had so many questions going through his head that he wasn't sure which to ask.

"So…" Melanie finally began. "Raphael, are you feeling any better? You looked awful before."

"Oh… Yeah, I'm not as hungry or sore as I was when I got here," Raphael confirmed. "I still have at least a day or so before I'll be able to walk or use my hands, but I'm okay otherwise. The people here have been…very generous."

"Yes, they have," Melanie agreed, with just a hint of smugness. "It's quite a relief for all of us, that help found us in such an unlikely place."

"And you probably noticed how surprised I was to see it too."

"That makes two of us," Jerec added. "Believe me, I'm sure you noticed it, but I thought I'd become an enemy to practically this entire country. Many people were…very angry about my decision. And I was angry right back. I didn't bother to explain or try to justify myself because I didn't think it would do any good…or that they were worth the effort. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have made a difference to someone like Zann, but I can't help but wonder if things might've gone differently if I'd held my temper."

"Don't we all," Raphael said with an air of philosophical melancholy. "I did see that I had you figured wrong though. That you had been telling the truth all along."

"And now you'd like more answers."

Raphael gave a nod of confirmation.

"Well, again, that makes two of us," he admitted, palming his forehead with one bandaged hand. "Honestly, I didn't even expect to live through this chase. I was just so…so angry, that I tore off after you two without thinking it through. Even when I realized I'd likely starve or freeze before I caught up with you, my bull-headed pride kept me going. But now, I'm just…stunned at where it got me. One minute we see Daeins like Zann who are cut from the same cloth as those who invaded Crimea twice, and the next I meet some that are as kind as Melanie."

Melanie could keenly feel her cheeks go pink as she smiled at the compliment.

"While I was laid up," Raphael continued, "I had a lot of time to think. And, I had a lot of time to speak with Lieutenant Colton while you two were under, before he left to patrol the countryside with his unit."

"I wish I woke up in time to speak with him," Jerec said feelingly. "He's a good man, and a good friend. This isn't the first time I've owed him my life."

"I can believe it…but, I can barely believe I just said that. Still, I'm honestly not sure why, but I felt I can trust him."

"That I can believe. Colton may chatter like a magpie, but I doubt there's a more trustworthy man this side of the Riven Bridge. Just don't let him plant any images in your head of what he and his wife get up to when they're home and behind closed doors."

"Too late."

"My sympathies."

The two men shared a laugh at that, prompting Melanie to roll her eyes and mutter something about the head that men are more apt to use. Still, the unlikely laughter did seem to lend a catharsis to the moment that was sorely needed and, in a strange way, helped to loosen their tongues.

"I think all that time helped to put things in perspective…some things, at least," Raphael went on. "My first impression was that you were a liar or a cad, or both, and that your story about how you were different from other Daeins was a pack of lies. Now…well, now I have proof that that's not so. Heck, that Colton saved us and the people here nursed us back to health tells me that a lot of what I thought about this place was wrong. Still, that doesn't square things. If anything, I have more questions than when I started."

"Yeah, same here," Jerec admitted. "Part of me wants to think that I ought to be glad that my father found someone he could give his heart to after my mother died, but the rest of me just has trouble swallowing it. Especially since I know father never remarried and I had no idea I even had a half-brother, or half-sister maybe, until just before I met you two. I just wish I knew exactly what was going on myself."

"That's probably the only thing we agree on right now," Raphael replied. "Lieutenant Colton spun me quite a yarn, about how you and him knew each other, how you seemed a different man after helping Sir Ike defeat the rogue wolves, and how you left when the provisional government voted down the notion to accept aid from Queen Elincia. It was…a little overwhelming."

"I can understand that. When I first met Ike, I wanted him dead so badly I could barely see straight. I nearly risked the mission by trying to settle the score after he got the upper hand on me when we were trading insults. I had a lot of expectations of him, which were probably in line with what you thought of me, and it wasn't easy to wrap my head around him being such a different man, such a better man, than I expected."

Though Melanie hadn't spoken in some time, both men were keenly aware of her watchful gaze and how she was, barely, restraining a smug grin at this latest vindication of her faith in peoples' better natures. And, despite both men shooting an irate glare in her direction, which she pointedly ignored, neither truly minded.

"But, like I said, I came away with more questions than answers," Raphael admitted. "I hadn't really thought about this before, but my talk with Lieutenant Colton has it prodding at the back of my mind. I know you fought on Crimea's side when Begnion and Daein attacked Crimea and the Laguz Alliance, but do you know the reason why Daein sided with Begnion? The real reason, not that theory that Begnion had bigger fish to fry and figured they and Daein had the same enemy?"

"Actually, that's been bothering me too," the Daein vagabond admitted. "For the longest time, I figured they were just up to their old tricks and didn't bother looking for another explanation. Well, I had my hands full making sure I didn't get myself killed at the time. And, after that, I was just so…so disgusted that I figured why bother asking the question since I was certain to not like the answer."

Here, he paused and shot an appreciative smile in Melanie's direction.

"It took a clearer head than mine to make me realize that the prevailing theory didn't make much sense," he admitted. "So, Colton didn't tell you?"

"He didn't know," Raphael said, the words taking his small audience by surprise.

"I got the impression that not many do."

He then relayed what little Colton had been able to discover in his unsuccessful attempt to confront the then-King Pelleas, and his words soon left Jerec's brow furrowed in deep perplexity. Melanie, by contrast, seemed quite intrigued by this tidbit. However, after a long moment, a look of uncertainty and desolation, not unlike what Raphael had relayed from Colton's account, stole over the face of Melanie's former betrothed.

"And what about you?" the Daein vagabond wondered, also noticing Raphael's expression. "Once you're well enough to leave, where will you go? What will you do?"

"I have no idea," Raphael admitted, his tone betraying something near to anguish.

"I've already decided that I won't be taking Melanie back to Rivertown. Not by force, at least. But if I go home and tell everyone that, my life will be ruined!"

"What? Raphael, that's silly," Melanie protested. "Just because you can't marry me? Come on, I know you're a better man than that."

"Mel, don't you get it?" Raphael continued, almost angrily. "Didn't you see how much my parents pushed me to wed you and follow in their footsteps one day? Now I have to tell them that I've failed!"

"But you act like they would disown you. Honestly, that would be too cruel."

"Yes, it would. But I fear that they could be disappointed enough to do just that. You know how my family has always been involved in the governance of Rivertown? How it's practically tradition for the eldest son to either be the mayor, or at least one of his advisors, or to be an officer of the court? Well, such a family doesn't last long without knowing they're under a lens every minute of every day. The dolt who allowed a vagabond, from Daein no less, to steal "his" woman? I didn't catch them at it, but it's no secret that it's has made me a laughingstock. I'll find little welcome there."

Despite his own troubles, the Daein vagabond's heart went out to the man. And he was all too aware of the eerie correlation, where an act of conscience had cost both men the place they'd long called home.

"And there's something else," he went on, his gaze finding Melanie's. "You see…I haven't been entirely honest with you either."

"What? What do you mean?" Melanie wondered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I never outright lied the way you did," Raphael continued, and Jerec had to bite back a harsh word at that. "But I didn't tell you the entire truth about me either. I never really wanted to follow my parents into law or politics. I'm not interested in it. I did love you enough to marry you, or I believed I did, at least, but that was it. That was the only thing they pushed me to do that I actually wanted. Everything else I just wanted to forget about."

"…You mean you don't want to be Rivertown's magistrate or mayor someday? And you don't want to study politics or the law or anything?"

"By Ashunera's morning breath, no! That…gobbledygook bores me to tears," Raphael admitted, petulantly. "And these clothes? I'm okay with wearing them on certain occasions, but all the time? Ugh. Give me a break! If I'm simply going shopping or visiting a friend, why do I have to wear a cravat?"

"…I must admit, I'm surprised here too," Jerec commented. "I figured you were more into…well, higher class work like that."

"It's called acting, maybe you've heard of it?" Raphael replied testily. "There was also my fear of losing you, Mel. I admit, I was paranoid about that. But I had a reason. I thought you would think less of me if you found out about my…disinterest in being a mayor or a town treasurer or a judge or a barrister or whatever, and about what I really dreamed of doing with my life. So I just sort of went along with things, kind of like you did, I suppose."

"What? Raphael, I would never do that to you!" Melanie protested again. "I would have cared about you no matter what kind of work you wanted to do. And now I'm interested in hearing what that is. What do you wish to do?"

At this, Raphael paused for a moment, unsure how to answer.

"Well…" he began once he got his nerve. "You know how I would sometimes take you to the theater to see a show? That…was my dream. To be a part of it. An actor."

At this, Melanie blinked in surprise.

"…Well, that explains why you're so dramatic sometimes," Jerec commented, to which Raphael sent him a glare.

"Jerec, stop that," Melanie said. "But wow, really, Raphael? Why would I ever belittle such an idea? I think it's wonderful!"

"Yeah, sorry for being so snarky, I actually think that's a fine dream too," Jerec assured. "It might be one worth pursuing."

"…Really? You don't find that silly, Mel?" Raphael replied, his cheeks having gone red at this point.

"Not at all! I swear to it!" Melanie insisted.

"Heh… And Jerec, no worries, really. You've got a point anyway," Raphael admitted. "I want to say I live for drama and the stage. It gets me excited. The first time I saw a show in that theater was when my parents took me when I was a kid. I really loved it. The stories, the characters, the themes. From then on, I wanted to dress up in those costumes and put on a show myself someday. In fact, I actually auditioned once already too. Do you remember, Mel, that date we had at the theater just after you met Jerec?

"The one where you excused yourself after the show ended and went back in, saying your wallet has slipped out of your pocket?" Melanie wondered, prompting a raised eyebrow from Jerec.

"Well, my wallet did fall out of my pocket, but that was deliberate. I snuck back stage and asked the troupe there if they could take on a new member. They weren't impressed at first, but I came prepared. Something I've been learning to do over the years is how to write plays. How to develop characters, write dialogue, and use deep themes. So, I performed a monologue from a play I was working on myself, they asked me when I could start! And the first thing to come out of my mouth was the autumnal equinox."

"Wait, isn't that when our parents had planned for the wedding to take place?"

"Well, we never had an exact date, but you're right. I suppose a part of me wanted that acting gig even more than getting married…heh. But while my parents were fine with the shows themselves, I could tell they were nonplussed about my "hobby." They would say things like "being mayor is far more important and rewarding than gallivanting around in costumes on a stage.""

"Pff, they're closed-minded," Jerec said. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised, since the feeling that everybody's watching and judging you can have an effect. I still say go for it. If you have talent enough to impress professional actors, you could probably make quite a name for yourself. You say you talked with Colton? I'm guessing he told you about what his life was like before he decided to join the army?"

"He did. Boy, can that guy talk."

"Yeah, I know. Still, he was stuck in a life he didn't want to live, as a dreary man working a menial trade. He made the choice to get out, to make his own way in life. Joining the army was no bed of roses, but I know that he wouldn't go back to chiseling out cobblestones for anything."

"Jerec's right, Raphael," Melanie added. "Your parents would be wrong to force you to give up your dream. You should go pursue acting anyway! It's amazing that the acting troupe liked what you could do! And I promise Jerec and I would come to your performances."

"…You would?" Raphael uttered.

"Sure," Jerec agreed. "I don't mind it."

"Definitely!" Melanie affirmed.

"Wow… Thanks."

Though this unexpected kindness made did make him feel a bit better, Raphael still worried about how his parents would react. He wasn't going to follow in their footsteps nor was he going to marry Melanie now. Would they still disown him and never speak to him again? It was certainly possible, as a family so interwoven with politics would surely take a dim view of a son who was stupid enough to moon over a girl who did not love him in return, lose her to a Daein vagabond, and then pursue her only to return empty-handed. And, though it was obvious that Melanie had found her true love in Jerec, he still loved her regardless.

Accepting that Melanie was out of his reach was one thing, getting past the heartbreak of that realization was quite another.

"But there's still one more thing I need to know," Raphael continued, tears forming in his eyes. "It's true that you hurt me by going with him instead of me. Like I said, I loved you, and now… I find that you never felt the same for me. Did you ever care about me at all? Did you?!"

"Raphael, of course I did!" Melanie replied. "I never lied about that. I even told this to Jerec."

"She did," Jerec confirmed. "She said she thought of you more like a brother."

"A brother?" Raphael replied, his sadness given way to befuddlement.

"Yes," Melanie said. "Not just another friend or anything. Raphael, I swear, I did love you too. Just not in the same way you loved me. Thinking of someone like family is still love, after all."

"Well, I suppose that's true."

Melanie then went over to Raphael and cupped one of his cheeks in her hand.

"Raphael, believe me. We still have a bond that no one else can have with either of us. It's even different from what I have with Jerec. I can't say anyone else has been the brother I never had like you have all my life. The one who was there for me when I was lonely. The one who was there for me when someone was cruel to me, or when I was grieving for my uncles, aunts, and cousins after they were killed in the Mad King's War."

At this, Raphael came to a sudden realization. Melanie had been right. They'd grown up together and, though he'd misread her affections, they'd been quite real through all those years. She had treasured how Raphael treated her with kindness and respect, even when his paranoia had twisted his emotions. And, he'd have a place in her heart after he'd helped her through the grief of losing so much of her family.

Even if the place he had in her heart wasn't the one he'd sought, perhaps he could be satisfied knowing that he'd made such a difference in the life of a good woman.

"I see…" Raphael finally uttered moments later. "…Thanks."

With that, Raphael gingerly used his bandaged hands to wheel himself closer and pulled Melanie into a tender hug. Melanie happily returned it. Jerec found himself smiling. It had clearly done Raphael some good to, finally, understand what he truly had with Melanie and how precious it was. And, though it would be too much of a stretch to say the two men were now friends, he found himself thinking that it just might happen someday after all.

"And…I should thank you too, Jerec," Raphael said when he let Melanie go. "You did save Mel from Zann and fought one helluva fight doing it. You really proved you love her too. I suppose I wouldn't have seen the light if it wasn't for you either."

"Of course. And while I was angry, I did realize that your actions were understandable to a degree, as I'd said before," Jerec replied. "And I'm not sure if Mel and I can ever truly make up for what we've done to you and her parents, but I hope for the chance to try sometime in the future."

"So do I, Raphael," Melanie agreed.

"I…understand," Raphael said, his words somber, but not truly sad. "I still don't know how I'm going to tell my own parents about any of this, and I doubt I'll find much welcome there afterward, but…I'll return to Rivertown and tell both mine and yours, Mel. I'll tell them that you're safe as long as you're with Jerec."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Raphael, thank you."

"Yeah, I appreciate it too," Jerec seconded.

"You're welcome," Raphael replied, managing a small smile. "So… Are you both going to stay here once your journey's finished?"

"Probably not. I wish to go back to Rivertown and talk to my parents about all this myself," Melanie said. "I don't want them to think I've abandoned them or my home. And they deserve an apology from me for how I've misled them for so long. I'm also certain Jerec would rather not stay here either."

"Yeah, I don't. And I'll respect Mel's wishes," Jerec confirmed.

"Alright then. I guess—"

Before Raphael could finish his next sentence, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Jerec said.

Much to the surprise of the trio, in came Colton.

"Lieutenant Colton?" Raphael blurted, surprised. "I didn't expect you'd be back so soon. Weren't you heading out to chase down bandits?"

"Yeah, though we had a lucky break," Colton replied. "During our patrol, we discovered the bandits attacking a merchant caravan. We shredded those lowlifes, but we also took some wounded and had to rush them back here. They should be fine, though."

At this, Colton took notice of Jerec and Melanie. And, in contrast to Zann's sneering visage, the Daein lieutenant looked delighted to see them.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you both are awake! And Raphael is here too, excellent," he said. "It's been a long time, Jerec. And, it was quite a surprise to see you back here after you took off so abruptly."

Jerec's face colored and a heavy sigh parted his lips.

"I'm sorry, Colton," he admitted. "After…well, everything, I was just so frustrated and angry. I also felt like there was nothing I could do for Daein with the provisional government bending over backwards at Begnion's every whim, so I decided the best I could do was start over elsewhere."

"I can understand that. Heck, I did something a lot like that when I joined the army. And then the Dawn Brigade. A letter or two would've been nice, but I'll let that slide. That reminds me. Raphael here has told me some interesting tidbits about what you've been up to since we last saw each other, but I'd like to get the full story before you head out. Also, I have more information for all of you. I would've mentioned it earlier, but I wanted to wait until you and Melanie were awake, Jerec."

"That's fine, and appreciated," Jerec replied. "What's up?"

"Well, I think it's pretty obvious that you're worried about the rest of your journey," Colton began. "And Raphael is probably still kind of confused about…well, everything. He might be worried if he'll be safe going home too."

"I kind of am, yes," Raphael admitted. "Even though I appreciate the generosity I've been shown here. I will need a way to return home. And I think we all know that I won't last long if I try to go on foot."

"That actually brings up something I was hoping to talk to you about, Colton," Jerec cut in. "I understand if you're…displeased about how I never explained why I left, or where I went, but I must ask a favor of you. Melanie and I need to press on to General Tauroneo's mansion, but Raphael needs to be taken home, to Rivertown in Crimea. Is there any way you can help him get there?"

"I think I can," Colton replied with a smile and turned back to Jerec. "Also, Jerec, you and Melanie need not worry much when you resume your travels. You should be safer the closer you get to Nevassa, and safer still when you enter the city."

"…Really? How do you figure that?"Jerec wondered, unable to hide his bewilderment.

"Yeah, I'd think the capital is the most populated part of the country," Melanie added.

"It is," Colton replied, his voice becoming solemn. "Don't get me wrong, there are still a lot of people who are sore about your decision. But hear this. After she took the throne, Queen Micaiah made a number of decrees. One of them was that you were to not be harmed should you return. She understood your reasons and decided that you weren't truly committing treason. She said she even somewhat identified with your change of heart, as she too had discovered cause to reconsider her mind-set on things like Ike and the Crimeans. Her Majesty ordered that anyone who attacked you purely for your decision would be punished, and this is most heavily enforced in and around Nevassa."

At this, Jerec couldn't help but blink in surprise.

"Wow… I had no idea," he said. "I'm very glad to hear it though. I feel better about continuing now."

"I thought you might. And Raphael, if you want, I can have some of my men escort you back to the Crimean border. You'll likely be kept out of sight as best as we can manage, since a lot of people won't be happy to see a Crimean about. But, even if they catch wind of you, I doubt they'd risk attacking armed soldiers. Once we're in sight of Rivertown, though, you'll likely have to walk the rest of the way, so as not to cause a panic. We have enough troubles without people thinking Daein's invading Crimea again. Some of us here just want peace, not more fighting. We can also give you some food for the journey home too, but you'll have to get some of the donated clothes kept here, since what you were wearing was beyond saving. Especially your bib."

"Do you do that just to annoy me?" Raphael retorted, sounding very annoyed indeed.

"Depends. Is it working?"

That got a laugh out of Colton, Jerec, and Melanie. Raphael soon joined in despite himself.

"Oh, very funny," Raphael groused. "Still, if you would do that, you have my thanks, Lieutenant Colton. Once the doctors here say I can leave, so I would like to go as soon as possible."

"Are you sure you should be going that soon, Raphael?" Melanie said, obviously concerned.

"You might want to wait longer," Jerec added. "You were half starved and nearly frozen when you got here, and it'll take time to recover from that."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I will have some new warm clothes thanks to the people here. And besides, the longer I stay, the harder it may be for me to find…well, peace. After, well, you know."

"Oh… Yeah, I understand. I'm sorry…"

"I know you are. And it'll still take time for me to find more happiness again. But leaving all that aside, talking to you two and Lieutenant Colton has helped me to make a decision. I'm going to pursue my dream of being an actor and, if I'm going to do that, I'll be on a bit of a tight schedule. When I realized that I'd told that troupe that I wanted to start with them on my wedding day, I vacillated a bit. They told me that, if I decided to join them, I could find them at Ramsees Hed, a port near Crimea's border with Gallia, which handles trade with Gallia and Begnion, as well as traffic between Tellius and Altarais."

"Wait, trade from Gallia?" the Daein vagabond replied. "As in trade by sea? I didn't even know beast tribe laguz could, or would, even build ships. Heck, what does a ship built by cat laguz even look like?"

Raphael opened his mouth as if to answer, but it only gaped open for a long moment before he said "You'll have to see it to believe it."

"I've read up on Ramsees Hed," he went on. "It's apparently a hub for the theatrical community. Troupes meet there at the start of the season to put on their first show, and usually the last when the season ends just before the Yule. Afterward, they disperse for their day jobs. Assuming the troupe still wants me, I can put down an offer for a room at one of the boarding houses and find a job to earn my bread between seasons. I'll see if finding a new home and rehearsing for the next show can help…take my mind off things."

"Not a bad idea," Jerec commented. "And I'm glad you decided to chase your dream. I only wish we could be back in time to see it."

"Me too, I guess. I doubt my parents will approve, but I doubt they'll be sorry to see me go after I explain this to them. Besides, if they want someone to carry on the family business, they're better off with Mason anyway."

"Mason?"

"Raphael's younger brother," Melanie said by way of explanation. "Very bright fellow. Clever, articulate, principled, but a bit heavyset."

"As always, Melanie, you are much too kind," Raphael cut in. "Duke Oliver Tanas was heavyset. Mason could probably flatten this place by getting on the roof and jumping up and down a few times."

Despite Melanie's criticism, all three men burst out laughing.

"Still, she's right about him being clever," Raphael went on. "That gobbledygook I can't stand looking at? Not only can he read it without falling asleep, but he can understand and use it. His teachers at law school all say he's amazing and that he never loses when they stage their mock trials. I think he really wants to be in the family business and become a great barrister. He's got the talent for it, but he would've played second fiddle since I'm the eldest. Who knows? Maybe me chasing my dream will help him realize his."

"I hope so, I really do," Jerec said, surprised at how much he meant it.

"Thank you. Also, there is one thing I'd like you to do for me, once you've got your business here settled," Raphael said, seeming to brighten when Jerec and Melanie nodded. "I would like to know how things turn out for you. What this half-sibling business is about, for instance. And, after what I've heard from Lieutenant Colton, I'm curious about just why Daein joined Begnion. If you can, perhaps you could find a way to let me know?"

"Count on it."

"Thank you. Well, you two…take care. I really hope we meet again someday."

"Alright, I'll help you pack up, if you'd like," Colton offered. "You never know what kind of weather you might run into out there, and I know what to take with you."

"Sure, thanks," Raphael obliged.

"Jerec, why don't we depart tomorrow?" Melanie suggested. "I'm still rather sore from my injuries, and you look the same."

"Alright, that's fine," Jerec agreed. "Even if it is safe for us in Nevassa, we could probably use more supplies and equipment better suited to making camp out here. A good ice saw will be worth more than gold if we have to build our own shelter for the night."

"Guess it's all settled then," Raphael said, solemnly, but not sadly. "Until we meet again."

"Bye, Raphael. Please take care of yourself. And don't do anything you'll regret," Melanie replied.

"Of course."

With that, Raphael was wheeled out of the room, leaving the couple alone with Colton. The trio stayed silent for a moment before Colton spoke up.

"So, Captain Jerec," he said. "If you would like, I can give you and Melanie an escort as well. Just as an extra precaution."

"Alright, that wouldn't hurt," Jerec agreed. "But just to General Tauroneo's mansion. My meeting with him is meant to be…well, private. Also, you don't need to call me by my old rank since I'm no longer your captain."

"Sure thing then," Colton agreed. "And true, but you were still the one captain I looked up to more than any other. So to me, you're still my captain in that sense."

"Heh, I guess there's no changing that then. Thanks."

"Yes, thank you for all you've done, Lieutenant Colton," Melanie added. "I can't put into words how much I appreciate it!"

"Ah, but of course," Colton replied and smiled. "By the way, I would say Jerec picked a fine lady here to be his wife someday."

"Wha-huh?! Whoa there, Colton, we're not even engaged!" Jerec spoke up, his cheeks now redder than cherries. Melanie's face promptly took the same coloration.

"I know, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time," Colton replied with a wink and then began wiping at imaginary tears. "And to think, it seems like only yesterday that you were threatening to make us peel potatoes when all we did was set you up on a blind date or two."

"More like a few dozen. Every week, and you didn't even bother telling me first, let along getting my permission! …still, I am grateful for everything you've done, and glad you're willing to help us."

"It's no problem. Well, just let me know when you're ready to leave in the morning. I'd better go help Raphael pack. I'll be back afterwards. We have a lot to talk about. I want to hear your stories about your time in Crimea, and you'll be hearing my stories afterward."

Jerec muttered something under his breath about sleep aids, but promptly feigned ignorance when Colton asked what he'd said.

"Ah, well, alright," the Daein lieutenant said. "See you around, then."

"Y-Yes, thank you, Lieutenant Colton," Melanie added, a smile tugging at her mouth.

After Colton left, Jerec and Melanie shared an awkward moment of silence, but soon moved their thoughts to the remainder of their journey. Knowing that they'd be safer than they thought lifted a great weight off both their shoulders. Especially Jerec's. His greatest fear was repeatedly putting Melanie in danger because of his stormy history with Daein. But now, Colton's words had lent him some badly needed assurance that Melanie would not be risking life and limb while he hunted for answers about his unknown kin. Granted, just who and where his half-sibling was, and how he or she might be doing still remained on his mind, as did his growing curiosity over why Daein had joined Begnion in their war against Crimea and the Laguz Alliance. But with the threat of being torn apart by his former countrymen laid to rest, these worries seemed less daunting than they did but a few hours ago. Tonight would probably be the best sleep the two had in days.

 

Edited by Anacybele
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  • 1 year later...

...Wow, I should not have taken over a year to update this. But I did have some writer's block, life stuff happened, and so on. I wish I wasn't so sluggish at this... But anyway, I do have two new chapters now! And this story is very close to completion!

 

Part 8: War Buddies

Even as the sun began to peek over the horizon the next morning, and the church began to bustle with activity as the resident priests rose to tend to those who'd come to them in their hour of need, all remained fairly quiet in Jerec and Melanie's room. Given what they had learned from Colton the previous day, they decided not to even get up early if they could help it. After Jerec's flight from Rivertown, Melanie's pursuit, days crossing the Daein snowfields, and both of them nearly getting killed by Zann and his men, they both needed a good night's sleep, especially in real if modest beds. Though years of habitual wandering, mostly out of fear of his heritage being discovered, would've made the lancer dreadfully leery at the prospect, he was wise enough to know they both needed the chance to rest after everything they'd been through, especially Melanie who wasn't yet used to such harsh and meager conditions. And, strange though the thought was, he was glad for the chance to rest without cause to worry.

It had come as quite a shock when Colton told him of Queen Micaiah's decree that he was not to be harmed, despite the hard feelings between him and most of the Daein people. And, though Jerec was nonplussed at the idea of trusting a woman he didn't know, who led a country he was on poor terms with, and who'd tried to kill him several times when Daein and Begnion invaded Crimea, he did trust Colton.

The two were old friends, had fought shoulder to shoulder, and even hazarded life and limb for one another back when Jerec still wore the ebon armor of Daein. And, on this side of the border at least, Colton may very well be the only friend Jerec had.

If Colton trusted Micaiah and felt she'd keep her word, then Jerec felt he could trust her too.

And besides, he didn't have much of a choice anyway, nor did he plan to stay in Daein a minute longer than he had to.

He still wasn't sure what would happen once they finally reached Tauroneo's mansion to ask about the letter he'd sent, nor what would happen afterwards. In fact, Jerec was sure of only two things before he fell into a characteristically deep slumber. The first was that if it wasn't for the fact that the beds were only theirs for that evening, he and Melanie might've moved them next to each other so they could be in one another's arms while they slept.

And the second was that he could not entirely trust himself if they were to do that.

Melanie awoke first, sometime after the sun was almost completely above the horizon. Accustomed to waking much earlier, and choking down some rather frantic language about how late she was, she only belatedly realized that she wasn't due for a shift assisting the healers in Rivertown…because she wasn't in Rivertown anymore…

…and there was no telling when, or if, she'd ever return there.

She shook off the brief flutter of melancholy, which was simple with a quick glance out the window to behold the sunrise glittering off the snow and the distant view of the fjords. How beautiful everything looked, and how she wished to see more of it…assuming she could wake Jerec up sometime in the next week. She gave a snicker as she recalled that she might find herself facing a by now familiar predicament: waking her lover. Though this time, she was conflicted on whether to force him awake at all since this was assuredly the first good sleep he'd had in some time.

"Oh, Jerec…" she said with an amused smile. "Somehow, while I know this surely had to irritate others, it's somehow rather adorable to me."

Melanie soon began meditatively stroking her chin, wondering what to do next.

"But I'm also sure you want to leave as soon as possible. Hm…"

As she contemplated this strange dilemma, she heard a knock at the door. Melanie called out for whoever was there to come in. Unsurprisingly, Colton shouldered his way into the room. Taking the opportunity to study him at length, Melanie found herself liking the Daein lieutenant. Though his stocky and well-muscled frame could certainly be intimidating, even if some back in Crimea would insist that the "foul smelling, ebon clad barbarians" came in sizes bigger still, he had an open and honest expression, though with an edge of palpable mischief.

Melanie considered herself a sharp judge of character and, though she'd buried far too many of her kin during Daein's first invasion, she could never bring herself to judge an entire country based on the actions of a handful of men. After all, if all Daeins had been like those who'd killed her relatives, how did that explain Jerec, or those Daeins who'd joined Ike in the Mad King's War?

Seeing intelligence and honesty in Colton's face, Melanie found herself certain that the Daein lieutenant was someone she could trust. And, being a stranger in a strange land, which might prove less-than-friendly, she wasn't about to take such a person for granted.

As for Colton, when he saw Jerec still snoozing and even letting out a snore every now and then, he chuckled. Melanie could detect a clear note of nostalgia in Colton's laughter, and she imagined that he had missed his old friend and captain quite a bit.

Maybe, if Jerec caught wind of this, he might reconsider his implied plans to hurry away from Daein once his business here was done?

"Ah, how I actually rather missed this," he spoke up, shaking Melanie from her reverie.

"Heh, really?" Melanie wondered, though she wasn't entirely surprised. "I thought it might've annoyed everybody else in your platoon."

"More like everyone else in our regiment," Colton corrected with a snicker. "It did at first. But many of us got used to it, me in particular. And it became more amusing than anything else. A lot of us tend to sleep too long sometimes because of certain…well, hazards with being infantry soldiers traveling with those on horses and wyverns. We often had to go on forced marches to keep up, and if you weren't keen to drop and start snoring on the spot afterwards, people might start breaking out the holy water. But no one was a heavy sleeper like Jerec!"

"I see. And I can believe it! I've already found that out for myself," Melanie replied. "I'm not sure I want to pinch his nose shut again though. That…really doesn't feel right."

"Ah, that's fair. Let me show you what I always did," Colton offered.

"Oh, this I gotta see," Melanie agreed eagerly.

Colton smiled again and produced a small feather from his belongings. He'd clearly had the feather for some time, as it was quite battered; the shaft bent and ragged gaps in the vane. Again, nostalgia began to creep into his expression as he studied it.

"Way back," he began, "I made a sort of ritual out of this. Jerec would be slow to wake up, and I'd use this little beauty to jolt him out of dreamland. He'd always be spluttering, flailing, and, even though he suspected it was me, we'd always point the finger at each other. Never at Zann, though. That dastard's idea of a joke could curdle milk. Still, I kept the feather after Jerec left, partly to remember him by, and partly so I'd be ready if he ever came back."

Perhaps sensing that he was letting a bit too much sentimentality show for his liking,

Colton then approached the sleeping former Daein captain and began tickling his nose with the feather.

Jerec's nose twitched a little, and a second later, he let out a monstrous sneeze. It forced him upward from his pillow, spluttering and flailing just as Colton had said. Ultimately, his flapping about caused him to fall off the bed, and he went crashing to the floor.

"AUGH!" he yelped. "What the hell…?"

"Works every time," Colton snickered.

"Oh! Jerec, are you alright?" Melanie inquired, though she couldn't suppress a chuckle either. "Colton, tell me Jerec wasn't actually supposed to fall off the bed."

"Ah, no, this is the first time I've seen that part," Colton replied. "Honest. That was funny though!"

"And you seriously haven't come up with a better way to wake me after all this time?" Jerec retorted.

"Nope. Why mess with perfection?"

"Sigh… Whatever. I'm okay, Mel. I'm still at a loss on why no one's beheaded this guy yet, but I'm alright. Don't worry."

"Alright, that's good," Melanie said, sobering slightly. "I wasn't sure if you might've irritated any injuries that are still healing."

"Doesn't seem so. Which is a good thing for you," Jerec said, directing the second sentence and a glare at Colton.

"Heh, sorry about that," Colton replied. "Shall we prepare to be off though? We do have a ways to go to reach the capital, and we've only got so much daylight."

"Right, yeah. I've had to keep General Tauroneo waiting quite a bit, and I really can't keep him waiting any longer than I have to at this point."

With that, Colton left the room so Jerec and Melanie could get dressed and pack up what belongings they still had. Once they rejoined Colton, he informed them that he'd acquired some extra food and medicine for the road. Both were simple fare, just hard bread and jerky, as well as several vulneraries. The food, meant to keep on the road, looked like it would be bland at best and dreadful at worst, but none of the small party was in a position to complain, as getting food in Daein could be a difficult prospect even at the best of times. Ordinarily, the church would've had a stock of winter fruit on hand, such as dates, oranges, and pears. But, Colton informed them that these fruits had been needed by other patients and the church had none to spare. The pair were also given heavy coats more suitable for Daein's ever chilly weather, thick woolen caps, gloves, scarves, and stockings, fur lined boots thick enough to keep out the cold but still flexible enough for hiking, which could also be strapped into cleats for icy terrain or snow shoes for crossing deep snow drifts, and, in case they needed to camp overnight, they were also given snow shovels and ice saws for building shelters, such as the previously used igloo that Jerec and Melanie had shared not long ago.

Once that was mentioned, which was clearly a bad idea, Colton began persistently nudging Jerec while winking exaggeratedly. And, unfortunately, it seemed Colton was still immune to Jerec's death glare.

In addition to these other supplies, Colton had provided them with a map in case the routes which travelers would normally take to the capital became problematic for any reason. Jerec appreciated it, as he hadn't considered having a map on hand. Despite not having been in his home country for a long time before this journey, he still had a decent memory of its roads, and he'd set out expecting to spend far less time in his former homeland than he had already. Even so, having the map, the lancer had to admit, would prove beneficial.

While traveling in Daein, especially during the cooler seasons, a lot could go wrong. Open fields could be swept with icy winds that could knock even hardy men off their feet and carry off supplies. Mountain passes and other sheltered areas could become choked with snow. The dizzying reflections on the snowy ground could easily disorient an unwary traveler. And, the persistent overcast frequently ruled out navigating by sun, moon, or stars.

And, since Jerec wasn't exactly well liked in Daein these days, all of that was discounting the possibility that they might run into people who'd recognize him and react…badly to his return.

Colton gave the impression that Micaiah was a well-respected queen, but that hardly meant that her decree prohibiting Jerec from being harmed over his decision to leave Daein was a foolproof means of ensuring his safety.

Deciding not to agonize over what he couldn't control, Jerec thanked Colton for the supplies and medicine, and Melanie did likewise. After the lucky break his unit had had in their earlier hunt for bandits, and with this part of the country likely to be quiet for at least a little while, Colton decided to leave the rest of his troops at the church to recover before they returned to their families to enjoy some well-earned leave, while he acted as the sole escort for Jerec and Melanie. Though he mentioned that his unit was expected to report to Marado as soon as possible after the local brigands were under control, it seemed he'd dismissed the seeming urgency of the orders.

As Jerec recalled, Marado was technically an independent territory within Daein's borders, and had refused to provide troops for Ashnard's invasion of Crimea, which surely had some of Daein's leadership leery of them. He'd half expected Colton to have been sent there for some saber rattling, to make sure the Marado people "behaved themselves," which Ashnard had done once or twice. Much to his astonishment, not only did Colton deny the implication but even said that Lady Fiona, who ruled Marado, was a former member of the Dawn Brigade as well as one of Micaiah's staunchest supporters.

"What else can I say?" Colton asked rhetorically. "When Begnion decided that the best way to get the Dawn Brigade to surrender was to drag a bunch of civilians onto Fiona's doorstep and threaten to behead them all, the two of them bonded over how much that pissed them off."

"You fought alongside the Dawn Brigade, then?" Melanie inquired, before Jerec could bring himself to do the same.

"Yup. Signed up practically on day one. And, damn, could I tell you stories."

Jerec gave an exaggerated gasp of alarm, which prompted Colton to jokingly tell the lancer to shut up, which he'd reportedly waited eight years to say. Still, knowing that, when the Daein lieutenant was given an excuse to talk, he'd always milked it for all it was worth, the lancer was already bracing himself for Colton to talk himself hoarse and/or until his small audience's ears were bleeding. Still, though Jerec was hardly keen to hear about the group that had bested Ike at least once, nearly conquered Crimea, and came close to killing him several times, he nonetheless caught some tidbits which impressed even him.

It seemed that Colton had been involved in many of the Dawn Brigade's exploits prior to the downfall of the Begnion Occupational Army, such as their first true victory at Terin, the liberation of Glaive Prison and the Umano Camp, the eventual rout of the Begnion Occupational Army at Nevassa, and even their upset victory against Ike and the Greil Mercenaries at Nox Castle. Despite a habitual shiver at that last one, the lancer had to admit that Colton's account showed that the Dawn Brigade possessed a great deal of courage and tactical acumen. No less startling, the same Daeins who'd defected to Ike in the Mad King's War, who Jerec had told Melanie about over a meal of freshly speared boar, had been a few of the core members of the brigade. Still, the bitter taste in his mouth persisted when he recalled that those same people had turned right around and sided with Begnion.

He had a lot of pointed questions on that score, but he didn't want to ask Colton since he didn't trust himself not to let his anger seep into his words. And after all the help his old friend had given them, especially since doing so could get him in trouble with his superiors anyway, even if he didn't care since he was helping friends, Jerec didn't want to sour their unexpected reunion.

As the sky was uncharacteristically clear, Jerec was able to tell that the trio had been travelling for several hours, which felt quite a bit longer since Colton's supply of anecdotes about his time in the Dawn Brigade weren't going to be running out anytime soon. They'd departed as soon as all of them were ready, Jerec and Melanie thanking the people who'd treated them one last time before leaving, and if the lancer remembered correctly, they were making good time.

Figuring that he could afford a small pause, and since he hadn't quite readjusted to Daein's air, which could be charitably called "brisk," Jerec had an insulated flask of hot water partway to his lips when Colton's latest anecdote nearly made him choke on it.

"And, as Alder slid down from the blade that skewered him, the figure was revealed. And, as I live and breathe, it was the Black Knight himself!"

Colton had been too wrapped up in his retelling to notice Jerec's muffled coughs, for which the lancer was deeply grateful.

Even if he'd been in the mood for storytelling, which he wasn't, he didn't relish the idea of anybody pumping him for information about how, after witnessing the Black Knight's seeming death in Nados Castle, the castle had come down on top of him, forcing him to spend days digging himself out…only to learn that his father had been slain before he could escape.

"The Black Knight?!" Melanie blurted, unable to hide her astonishment. "How is that possible? I mean, I'd heard rumors that he'd escaped Nados Castle after being defeated by Ike, but there was never any proof."

Though he kept silent, Jerec had shared her amazement when, only a few days ago, he'd heard Mist relay the story of how Ike's nemesis had reemerged, and been unmasked, during the unlikely allies' ascent up the Guiding Tower.

Mist hadn't been privy to the Black Knight's activities in Daein, nor had she the chance to ask around, but she did talk about how flabbergasted the Daein and Begnion members of their hastily built coalition had been upon discovering that Daein's enigmatic champion and the Begnion Empire's most celebrated commander, Zelgius, were the same person.

It didn't sound like Colton had been informed of this, if his excited tone was anything to go by.

"Yeah, we all thought he was dead," Colton continued. "But there he was, in all his menacing glory. He even led the charge to retake Nevassa, but oddly let us take out Jarod. Said his sword was not made for killing those who will not raise their weapons, though I'll be darned if I can make sense of that. Jarod hefted a mean lance, let me tell you! As we got to the throne room—"

"Where did he go afterwards?" the lancer wondered before he could think better of it.

He honestly wasn't sure why he asked, and even to his own ears, the question sounded…petty? As he considered the notion, he had to admit that the thought bothered him. Granted, between how much damage Zelgius' duplicity had done to both countries he'd falsely professed loyalty to, and the harm he'd done under both personas to Crimea and the Laguz nations, the lancer bristled at Colton's admiring tones and was becoming concerned about Melanie's growing fascination with his former homeland.

Maybe she'd share his wish to leave here as soon as possible if he revealed what he knew?

After a moment's consideration, however, he decided against it. Even if Melanie and Colton believed him, and he wouldn't blame them for being skeptical, what good would it do? The Black Knight, and Zelgius, were dead, and smashing a few holes in one of Colton's best memories was hardly the actions of a friend and former comrade.

"Who, the Black Knight?" Colton asked, though probably just trying (successfully) to be annoying. "Well, funny thing. After we killed Jarod and Begnion pulled up stakes, he left. No explanation, not even to us Brigadiers; he just went off. Nobody even knows where he went or why, even now."

That didn't come as much of a surprise, since the Black Knight surely had to become Zelgius to begin the next phase of the plot. Still, brief though it was, the return of Ashnard's avowed champion must've had quite an impact on Daein as, judging from what bits of information he heard, three years of skirmishes and small victories against a vastly superior force was turned on its head by the Black Knight's reemergence, which had rallied the Daein people and led to the rapid, and spectacular, downfall of the Begnion Occupational Army.

Even though the Black Knight had left shortly afterward, this parting seemed to affect Daein much differently than did Ike's. Whereas Ike slipping across the sea in heartbreak had caused Crimea to sink into despair, it was as though the Black Knight had instead vanished into legend, those he'd left behind firm in the belief that his departure meant he'd had faith that they could safeguard their futures on their own, and they'd been working since then to justify that faith.

Jerec disliked that thought. In fact, he disliked it a lot. Seen through that particular lens, it seemed that Ike, a man he admired very much despite the irony of it all, had harmed the country he'd loved with a simple, and very human, truth while Daein had benefitted from a lie given to them by a man who didn't care about that country beyond how good a proxy it made for a sinister scheme.

But, then again, this was Daein. What could he expect?

Letting Colton yammer on, he quickly gave Melanie some instruction in reading the map they'd been given.

"What do all these symbols mean?" she inquired, curious as ever.

Jerec, after jokingly claiming that Colton's overused voice muscles needed a rest, pointed out several annotations on the map. Some, he explained, denoted patterns of snowfall that could, at times, render certain trails impassable. Others showed where, at certain times of the year, the ice that formed over rivers and ponds was strong enough to walk on, though only at certain times of day. Others still denoted such things as caves where one could take shelter, areas prone to avalanches, areas especially protected from fierce winds, and hot springs where a weary traveler could camp in comfort.

The lancer admitted, privately, that he was more than a bit surprised at how readily this knowledge came back to him, especially since he'd been so eager to put this country behind him when he'd left years before. And, though Melanie had learned fast, enough so that she'd pointed out a shortcut both men had overlooked, and he was impressed as ever with her keen wits, he still wasn't sure just how he felt about her growing fascination with his former home.

Just how long did she think they were going to stay here?

Melanie promptly underpinned that uncertainty when she began wondering if Nevassa was anything like Melior at all.

"I suppose it is somewhat similar," Jerec replied non committally. "With both being capital cities and all. I do know that Nevassa's architecture is…harsher than Melior's. Black marble, gothic motifs, harder lines, and such. But as for how living there is nowadays, I don't know exactly anymore since I haven't been there in a few years."

"I think things have gotten a little better," Colton said. "Queen Micaiah is putting in a lot of effort to improve life everywhere here, in any case. Daein is, amongst other things, a country where might makes right, and it was an easy message to sell that the woman who managed to humble Begnion was the best candidate to run this place. That sort of political capital was even enough for her to begin establishing safe passage for laguz refugees from Begnion to travel through Daein and on to Gallia, which would've been unthinkable just a few years ago."

"I see, and that is impressive…" Melanie said, and Jerec was hard pressed not to share the sentiment. "She sounds like she's a good ruler, and very capable since you hold her in such high regard."

"Oh, I have tremendous faith in her," Colton agreed. "She's guided us through one of the darkest periods in our history and, even though she hasn't been queen for very long, I can see a lot of potential for things to get better in Daein. Especially if she really can get the people here rethinking their stance towards the laguz."

Again, why Jerec said what he said next, he wasn't certain. Maybe he found it hard to believe that any amount of might could even cause second guessing amongst a country so rooted in bigotry? Perhaps, though he trusted Colton, he was worried that his old friend was setting himself up for a great deal of disappointment and a warning might do him some good? Or, possibly, he didn't want to risk Melanie getting too attached to this place?

That last one was definitely possible since, in his opinion, the sooner they finished and left, the better.

Melanie, he knew, was a very forgiving woman, always keen to give second chances even to those who'd hurt her. But she didn't know this place.

Jerec did, and exposing her to it was a risk he disliked having to take.

Whatever the reason, he voiced a question that, he expected, probably would've touched off a riot if he'd said in the midst of a crowd.

"Provided, of course, that no one here finds out her…secret," Jerec intoned.

"Secret?" Melanie wondered, raising an eyebrow at Jerec's ominous tone.

Why did Jerec have the sudden feeling that she knew what he was doing? And, that she didn't like it?

"Yeah. But I really should not say much about it. I only learned of it when I visited the Greil Mercenaries, just before the battle at Rivertown. Micaiah would be crucified if anyone beyond those trustworthy found out. And it's disgusting because it's not her fault. It's not anything that people should make such a fuss about, but the sad truth is they probably will anyway. Especially here."

Again, that strange feeling that Melanie sensed his intent stole over Jerec and he tried to distract himself with another pull from his flask.

"…Wait, are you talking about her Brand?" Colton wondered.

This time, Colton's words prompted a full-blown spit take, and Jerec was left spluttering as he blinked at Colton in undisguised stupefaction.

After another snicker, followed by a remark about how he'd waited eight years for that too, Colton waited, almost smugly, for the lancer to regain his wits and reply.

"Huh? You know?" Jerec blurted out, astonished. "Does the rest of the country know?"

"Yeah, I know," Colton confirmed. "So do Prince Consort Sothe and a lot of the brigadiers. But no, not everyone in the country does. Because you're right. All hell would break loose if they did since Branded are still generally hated here. But as with laguz, my stance is the same. I came away from the wars second-guessing a lot of what I thought I knew about the laguz, when I saw things that contradicted what I'd been taught. I'll admit, when I first found out about Queen Micaiah's Brand, I was stunned. By then, I'd fought alongside her for years and, even if I'd seen that she possessed unheard-of abilities, I'd have never guessed that it was because she was a Branded. Still, when time wore away the shock and I thought it over, I decided that it didn't matter. I owed my life to her at least ten times over, and the hocus pocus she could do with that Thani tome of hers was a big reason for why we had managed what victories we had. Did I come away with questions that I felt I might not like the answers to? Yes. Was I confused? Very. But I also knew long before then that Micaiah had Daein's best interests at heart and that what might've been one of the darkest times in our history might be ending, thanks to her. So, since I knew she'd gotten us this far, and had faith she could get use the rest of the way, I figured I had no reason to change my mind about her."

Again, Jerec was left blinking in stupefaction, which Colton still found very amusing. The lancer had always known his old friend as a clownish man, who was quick with a joke or a prank, but who could be serious when he wanted to be…which wasn't often. But this, a born and bred Daein seeing someone of "tainted blood" and choosing to give her the benefit of the doubt? No less astonishing, but Colton had been second guessing the nigh fanatical hatred of the laguz which was so ingrained in Daein's culture?

He couldn't quite remember what he'd expected when he realized that tracking down his half-sibling meant he'd have to return to Daein, because this had blown that recollection right out of his head. Still, whatever he'd been expecting, he was positive that this wasn't it.

He was also positive that Colton was, just barely, keeping himself from laughing himself into a fainting spell at the sight of Jerec looking so flabbergasted.

"I see," Melanie chimed in, a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "But…how did you find out? She wouldn't just tell a platoon leader."

"True. I…ah…I accidentally saw the mark on her hand once, when I had to report to her and Lord Sothe one day. It was just after we liberated the Umono Camp, and I had taken stock of how many of the former Daein soldiers who'd been held there would be able to fight for the Dawn Brigade once they'd recovered. Her glove caught on something and slipped off, and I saw this crest there that looked kinda like a crane or a heron. And, when I saw how frightened she had become, I knew what it was when she got frightened that I'd noticed."

"Sounds like she was very lucky it was someone like you who saw," Melanie opined.

"Yeah, I had to assure her multiple times that I would keep quiet."

"I'll bet… I do feel sorry for her though," Melanie stepped in. "Branded are hated in Crimea too. It's a shame. They're hated really for no reason other than existing, and that's only because of the amnosity between the beorc and laguz. People believed, and many of them probably still do, that they are an abomination, whose creation goes against the wishes of the goddess. As much hatred as the beorc and laguz had for each other, the way they feel about the Branded is even worse."

"Yeah… Though that has changed somewhat thanks to Ike, Micaiah, and everyone else who fought in the previous two wars," Jerec replied solemnly. "It'll take time for people to believe it, though. I had to be convinced, and I've heard tell that nearly every laguz Ike fought alongside was skeptical at first too. Still, that things are changing at all is more than a lot of us would've expected. Hopefully, it'll continue, and what things were like before the wars will be just another bad memory."

"That would definitely be nice," Colton agreed. "I still want my boy to grow up in a better world than I did, and maybe that'll be a big part of making that happen…"

Considering that Jerec distinctly recalled his old friend as being a shameless flirt, and a bit grabby around the ladies, the image of him being a husband, never mind a father, was enough to cause the lancer to stumble. After being on the receiving end of yet another bit of Colton's teasing, the Daein lieutenant suggested that the two of them meet his wife and son after they'd wrapped up their business, and Jerec found the idea appealing in spite of himself.

"Yeah. I'd like to believe it will happen," the lancer admitted.

"Me too," Melanie agreed.

"Same here," Colton also agreed. "And, I'm glad Queen Micaiah seems willing to let you two in here. I've missed my old captain, and meeting his lady has been a real treat."

Yeah, now Colton sounds like his old self, the lancer mused, annoyed.

"Mmhm. So…you two served together in Daein's army? What sorts of missions did you both get to do together?" Melanie wondered. "I mean…besides any in the Mad King's War, I guess."

"Ah, I do suppose talking about that war would bring back bad memories," Colton said, a faraway expression on his face suggesting that Jerec and Melanie weren't the only ones with old wounds. "Before the wars, Ashnard had us focus on building up our strength. There was no war then, but there were minor skirmishes with Crimea, and even Begnion, every now and then. In the case of the latter, then-Prince Ashnard almost single-handedly claimed a small portion of Begnion soil for Daein. It wasn't much, but it caught everyone's attention. And, of course, there were the usual training regimens and patrolling too."

"Training as a Daein soldier is most certainly rougher than as a Crimean one," Jerec added. "On this side of the fence, there's more of a focus on combat skill and brute strength. Those things alone decided if you would get anywhere. Especially when Ashnard was on the throne. He didn't care about the name of your father, your family's lineage, how much money you had, or anything like that. All he cared about was wether or not you could fight well. I'm not crazy about admitting this, but that was probably the best thing any of the kings of Daein have done for this country. It meant that even people who were the lowest of the low had a real chance to rise up to achieve greatness. If Ashnard had just focused on that, instead of mooning over secret agendas, then maybe things would've been better."

"I can definitely believe that," Melanie said.

"Yeah, same here," Colton replied. "I'll never regret being able to give my boy the choice to be something besides what I grew up as, and what his ancestors all grew up to be for who knows how long. Still, I don't think I'll ever forget the cost. But on a lighter note, some of us in the platoon also, of course, set up those blind dates for Jerec without his knowledge or permission every now and then. Heh heh."

"Hmph. You're lucky I decided to just do the best I could in those situations rather than just turning those women away outright," Jerec countered. "I'm simply a gentleman."

"Oh that's just a euphemism for you not having the guts to sleep with any of them."

Instead of saying anything to this, Jerec scooped up a handful of snow and chucked it right in Colton's face.

"Hey, what are we, teenagers?" Colton retorted, and he would've sounded affronted if he could only stop guffawing.

"Well, apparently you are, so I'm just speaking your language," Jerec replied with a snarky grin. Melanie chuckled.

"Huh, you were never this much fun before," Colton observed, also smiling after he wiped the snow off his face. "I guess we have Melanie to thank for this change."

"Heh, could be," Jerec admitted, shooting his lover a smile as well.

"Oh, I don't know if I'm the only reason," Melanie said with a slight blush. "But I'm glad for a change like that in any case."

"Me too. And I do have to admit, Ike helped me to change as well," Jerec pointed out. "In fact, he was the one that started it all. I was a very different man back then. I was grieving over my father's death, I was upset about how the war had ended, I was being run ragged by the renegade wolf laguz who'd been terrorizing Daein. And I felt angry and humiliated, not only about having to ask Crimea for help but being sent to deliver the request for aid. If I hadn't met Ike during that, I'm not sure you'd have fallen in love with me, Mel."

Though Jerec had left it unsaid, he was also fairly certain that the man he'd been before wouldn't have fallen in love with Melanie either. He'd had likely judged her as, amongst other things, naïve and weak. Daein held many dangers for such people, most of which related to the locals.

There were still plenty of people who were a lot like that here in Daein, Colton's cautious optimism notwithstanding, and that knowledge had the lancer keeping a firm grip on his weapon.

Most of the other officers he's known back then would've considered her as little more than expendable chattel, fit for polishing armor, and with shoddy work being rewarded with the lash…if she were lucky.

As for what punishment would be enacted if she were unlucky, that was best left unsaid.

"Mm. I can't say either. After all, it sounds like meeting Ike was jarring enough, let alone finding good cause to change your mind about him and his beliefs. Still, I can tell you one thing. My parents would've made absolute sure that I never went near you again anyway even if I did still fall for you."

"Yeah, and that's if I even would've been in Crimea, let alone Rivertown in the first place. I could've very well stayed in Daein, especially after Ike's winning Begnion over had opened an entire second front."

"Indeed. But we'll never know, and I'm glad we won't."

Melanie shot Jerec a loving smile mingled with pride at her lover's reforming his character as they each laced their fingers with one another's.

"Glad indeed," Jerec seconded, returning the smile.

"It's amazing how a single small event could alter the course of one's life entirely," Colton commented, sounding uncharacteristically serious.

"Yeah," Melanie agreed. "You never know when something like that could happen either."

"That's for sure," Jerec added. "Meeting Ike was a one in a million circumstance if ever there was one. And it wasn't exactly a smooth ride either. Still, I think it was for the best. I was in a dark place back then, but fighting alongside Ike gave me a new perspective and direction. My life has been so different since then. It's also amazing how something so positive could come out of something so dire."

"That too," Melanie said. "You know, Jerec, one thing Raphael would tell me after we lost friends and family in that war was that the worse the bad was, the better the good that comes out of it will be. I now think he was more right than ever."

"He said that? I'm…impressed," Jerec commented, unable to hide his astonishment. "It does seem to be true, looking back."

"Indeed. Raphael had always been a wise man despite his more recent…questionable decisions. And after the deaths in my family, and losing some of my friends, my parents and I actually ended up making many more friends and growing much closer as a family because of it. I couldn't imagine anything bringing us greater solace at the time."

"It's kinda hard to picture nuggets of wisdom coming from the same guy who thought it was a good idea to charge after us and into Daein without a scrap of winter clothing and barely a mouthful of food, but I see what you mean."

"Oh, hush! Raphael was practically being marched at sword point to a career he didn't want and an arranged marriage with a girl he wasn't in love with. A lot of people can…unravel a bit under that kind of pressure. Besides, it sounds like he wants to turn his life around, just like you did."

"Your gal's got you there, Jerec," Colton chimed in. "By the way, whenever you would like to rest, just let me know. General Tauroneo has been waiting for his meeting for a while, by the sound of things, but we mustn't waste our energy by trying to press on when the weather's against us."

"Right. Thanks, Colton," Jerec replied.

Though the trio had made good time, the sun had begun to sink westward and the temperature seemed to be plummeting with it. Quickly finding an area that looked like a good campsite, the group began working with their ice saws to fashion a simple igloo to serve as their shelter for the night. Once again, Melanie learned quickly, and her work on the igloo would not have been out of place in the training regimens used in Jerec's time with the army.

Unfortunately, night came too quickly to build more than one igloo, so all three of them had to cram themselves into the small structure.

These things always look bigger on the outside, Jerec mused, hesitant though he was to complain about Melanie's handiwork.

Still, as irritating as Colton could be, which he excelled at, and though having him wedged in with him and Melanie did preclude the two lovers from…enjoying each other's company, the lancer was glad to have met his old friend again.

It hadn't really sunk in until recently, how lonely Jerec had been after his years as a vagabond. He'd missed being with people who'd had his back and, however this family matter turned out, he swore to never take such a treasure for granted.

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Part 9: A Mentor's Tale

The remainder of the journey to Nevassa had taken nearly another full day of travel. It seemed to go by quickly, however, as Jerec and Colton continued to catch up a little more. When two people, let alone two close friends, go a few years without seeing one another, there's a lot to talk about. Ultimately, as their second day of travel ended and night fell, causing the already cool temperature began to plummet, the two Daeins and Melanie quickly built another igloo – rather snug for the couple, as Colton built his own snow cave nearby – and then rose early the next morning to make better time. As the pair began to encounter villages along the road, Colton also insisted on paying for lunch as well as dinner when they stopped to eat, as well as finally purchase them some winter fruit. Though Jerec and Melanie were grateful for the gesture, especially since the food they'd made due with was even blander than they'd expected, the lancer had voiced his concerns about the Daein lieutenant spending money on them. But, Colton waved away the words, saying he was happy to help a good friend. He also recommended a much better inn than the abysmal accommodations Jerec and Melanie had been given not long after meeting up across the Daein border. Jerec said he couldn't afford that – indeed, he could barely afford the flea trap of a room he and Melanie had shared at the other inn –but Colton said he would handle it yet again.

Jerec then insisted that he find some way to pay Colton back for all of his help, even though he was at a loss on how he could manage it.

"Really, this is a lot," he said. "You have a wife and child to worry about, you could've spent that money on them instead."

"True," Colton agreed. "But don't worry, we're not in a bad spot, all things considered. You two, though? I've seen church mice with more money than you. You are more in need of help than myself and my family. And they'd want to help too. I've told them all about you, you know. My wife says you sound very charming."

"Ah…heh," Jerec stuttered bashfully. "I'm…flattered. But I see. I guess I can't change your mind, but I still want to repay you somehow. And I think I've just come up with an idea."

Jerec then motioned Colton to come closer and then began whispering something into his ear. Colton then gave a nod of agreement.

"Hmm… I wouldn't mind that. I just hope I wouldn't cause any trouble," he said.

"No, never. And if someone had any beef with this, they can answer to me," Jerec assured. "But no funny business, you hear me?"

"I can't say I'm entirely sure what would constitute "funny business," but alright," Colton agreed with a smile, though Jerec could swear there was a hint of deviousness in it.

"I think you would know what I mean. But thank you."

"Heh, may I ask what you told him, Jerec?" Melanie jumped in anxiously.

"Ah… I'll tell you later. It's a bit of a surprise," Jerec replied. "Promise."

"Ooh. Okay then, I trust you."

Knowing how long it had been since he'd heard that, and how no one would've blamed Melanie for feeling differently, the lancer gave an appreciative smile and, when Colton chose to spoil the moment, adamantly denied that his eyes were misting.

The three then later decided they would go see Tauroneo first thing in the morning, since by now, the general had been waiting nearly two weeks for Jerec to arrive. Jerec still remembered the way to his mansion, as did Colton, so getting there would be no problem. It had still been a very long time since Jerec had last seen the mansion, though he'd been there often enough as a child that he could practically sketch it from memory. Colton mentioned that it had been considered as a possible refuge and rallying place where the Dawn Brigade could recover and regroup in the event of a disastrous setback, though was deemed too easy for Begnion to find. He also admitted that he wasn't entirely sure how it had fared during the occupation and the Goddess War, so he wasn't sure if it had changed much. Regardless, Melanie looked forward to seeing it, as she had never had the pleasure of seeing such a luxurious home before.

From what Jerec remembered, the mansion was indeed a sight to behold. Though it probably didn't compare to Castle Crimea or Daein Keep for obvious reasons, it definitely made a common village home feel more like a well-kept shack by comparison.

For the time being, however, Melanie was also awed by Nevassa itself. At first, aside from what Jerec believed to be the aftereffects of not one but two protracted sieges, Nevassa didn't look much different than he remembered.

…or, did it?

It was still an imposing sight, with its towering walls of black stone festooned with towers like looked like needles piercing the sky, and the heavy gothic adornments of Daein Keep itself. But somehow, even though the city didn't look different, it felt different. Maybe it was how, rather than grimly dark, the black stone seemed the glossy ebon seen in panthers or the rare black Pegasi? Majestic, admittedly. Dangerous, certainly. And yet, lacking innate malevolence.

Perhaps it was that absence of the phantom scents of the corpses, which had persisted since the great plague of year 626, where people walking down the streets insisted that this street corner or that still had a whiff of someone having died there. Jerec remembered his father explaining it to him after he'd become violently ill on a back street from a smell everyone else claimed wasn't there.

It might've been that the slums he remembered tucked into the dingy corners that everyone tried to forget were there, and which had been filled with street urchins who probably could've risen high in Ashnard's Daein if they could learn to follow orders, were also gone. Not only were modest but clean houses in their place, but Jerec recognized several of the former slum youths who were apparently living in them.

Knowing how much Colton admired Micaiah, the lancer pointedly avoided looking at his old friend in hopes of postponing a smug "I told you so".

Still, Jerec had to admit that the change was palpable. Though Nevassa still seemed a little…darker than Melior, it was not nearly as dark as he either remembered or expected. It was as if Micaiah was in the middle of cleansing an actual darkness that had been cast upon her country. And that was probably truer than it sounded. The streets weren't as bustling as Melior's, not surprising since Daein had been through some lean times lately, but there were still shopkeepers pushing their businesses, people traveling the roads, and little to no alarming behavior. Granted, Jerec could hardly fail to notice the occasional dirty looks that passing guards shot in his direction. Colton hadn't been kidding when he'd said the soldiers there had been strictly forbidden to harm the Daein vagabond. Jerec had to admit, he was stunned that Micaiah was so understanding of his actions. Regardless, he was ever so thankful, as he was quite certain that, if not for her decree, he'd likely be shoved into a guillotine.

This didn't stop Jerec from breathing a sigh of relief when they finally came in view of the mansion. He had at last arrived at his destination, and surely there would be no more obstacles in his way. Though Melanie joining his unlikely journey and a brush or two with death had kept him occupied, he'd never truly forgotten just why he'd set out to meet with General Tauroneo. Somewhere, out there, inexplicably, he had a half-sibling. He still wasn't sure just how Bryce had had another child, or with whom, and he wasn't terribly anxious to pick apart the question of how he could've done so when he'd been so faithful to the memory of his departed wife. Nor was he certain just what he'd do when, or if, he tracked down his half-brother or half-sister. The only thing he was really sure of was that Tauroneo would not have made him aware of his half-sibling unless he was certain that his father, had he still lived, would've wanted it.

The rest, Jerec could figure out once he got the full story.

And now, finally, he was going to get the answers he'd been seeking since that courier had, literally, stumbled upon him a few weeks ago. Whatever explanation there was behind the birth certificate Tauroneo had sent him, he'd soon get it straight from the source. He was also thankful that he managed to keep the document itself safe all this time as well. He wouldn't have wanted to lose such an important clue. Tauroneo obviously had felt it would be safe with the Daein vagabond, and Jerec had to prove that true.

"Wow, this place really is a sight to behold!" Melanie commented. "It's beautiful!"

"Yeah," Colton agreed. "I haven't been here in quite a while myself. I know the general was worried about this place, lot of family history in those walls. And, we half expected Begnion to loot and burn the place after a group of us came here to salvage what arms and supplies we could, so it really is nice to see that it's still standing."

"I can agree with that," Jerec seconded. "But Colton, can you PLEASE stop with the anecdotes? Pretty please?"

"No, but thanks for asking so politely."

"For the life of me, I can't figure out why no one's beheaded you yet. Still, I'm kind of amazed that Tauroneo's been able to maintain it on his own, what with his family gone. He probably has a few servants working here, but not many since others had left along with his wife and two sons, and some might not have survived the occupation."

"I see… Poor man. I'm glad we could give him some company, even if it's only for a little while," Melanie said.

"Indeed."

Jerec soon came to a stop near the front gate that led into the mansion grounds. For the next couple moments, he merely just stared at the place, a pang of uneasiness washing over him.

"Hey, what's wrong, Jerec? I'd think you'd be excited to see Tauroneo for the first time in years," Colton pointed out.

"Yeah, I am… But I'm also nervous. I don't know what to say to him for starters. And I also still dread the things he might be about to tell me," Jerec explained. "I came here upon his request, after all, and it's about secrets my father was keeping."

"True. But Melanie and I are here with you. You might need to get reacquainted with the idea after your time abroad, but you don't have to do it all alone."

"That's right, Jerec, you have all our support," Melanie added with a smile and took Jerec by the arm.

"Heh. Thanks," Jerec replied, returning the smile. "Let's go do this then."

With that, the three approached the gate. Jerec rang the gold colored bell hanging on the upper right. Within a couple moments, a patrolling guard came by and asked the trio their business.

"I'm Jerec, a former student of sorts to General Tauroneo," Jerec explained. "He summoned me here for some important business."

"Ah, yes, I see," the guard replied. "I did hear that the general was expecting a guest. Didn't know it was actually three guests though. But follow me."

With that, the guard unlocked the gate and allowed Jerec and his companions inside. They were led up to the large double doors of the mansion. Much like Nevassa, these were of stone carved into magnificent gothic reliefs, though light gothic to Nevassa's heavy gothic. The pillars that lined the front of the house on either side of the doors portrayed masterful carvings of strange, but fascinating creatures. One resembled a man with the body built like that of a berserker, but with the head of a bull. Another looked like some sort of wingless dragon, but with what looked like dozens, maybe hundreds, of heads. Another looked like some bizarre melding of man and fish, whose webbed hands brandished a weapon that looked like a spear with three prongs. The guard, once he'd roused the group from their stupefied gawking, asked them to wait while he went to inform Tauroneo of their arrival. He then disappeared inside the grand building.

Jerec couldn't help but gulp as they waited for the general to greet them. He kept reminding himself that his lover and his old friend were there to help him as they'd said, and that Tauroneo wouldn't have brought this matter to his attention if his late father wouldn't have wanted it, but he still could not suppress a sense of dread over what might be revealed about his father and half-brother. Or half-sister, he still had no idea which. And what else had Bryce been hiding aside from having sired a second child? Jerec recalled the secrets Greil had kept from Ike and Mist. Or at least, the secrets the two of them had discovered on their own. Jerec knew from a conversation with Ike that he was hesitant to probe more deeply into his father's past.

After all, it stood to reason that, just as Jerec had been a different man before he'd met Ike, surely Greil might've once been a very different man than the man who'd raised Ike and Mist…and, for all his well-proven courage, Ike was afraid of what he might find if he turned over that stone. Jerec could hardly blame him, for he was about to turn over a big rock, and it seemed quite likely that he wouldn't like what he found underneath. Whatever the case was, he would have to believe that he would get through it.

Jerec soon felt a familiar brawny hand placing itself on one of his shoulders, and a warm head nuzzle against his other shoulder. He took a deep breath and smiled at Colton and Melanie yet again.

A moment later, one of the large doors opened again, and standing there before them was Tauroneo himself. Jerec almost didn't recognize him because he was more used to seeing the man in his heavy silver armor. Instead now, he was wearing only a simple silver doublet and trousers. His gray hair and thick mustache were ever so familiar, however.

"Jerec!" he greeted in his gruff voice and smiled, obvious relief on his face. "I'm pleased you could make it here. …And I see you didn't come alone either. It's a pleasure to see you too, Lieutenant Colton."

"Ah… General," Jerec uttered, valiantly forcing the words past the lump in his throat. "Hello, sir. It has been a while. And…yeah, I'm not alone. I wasn't planning on that, but things happened along the way. I would've been here sooner, but we hit some snags. Some…rather complicated."

"I see. And I understand," Tauroneo replied. "The important thing is that you're here and safe. I will admit, I was concerned about your safety because of your…reputation. I'm glad you actually traveled here with company. And please, you all may come in! It's not often that I get even one guest, let alone three."

"Thank you, sir," Colton obliged. "I wanted to escort Jerec here as a precaution, just in case somebody didn't take the hint when they heard Queen Micaiah's decree. Besides, from what I've seen so far, Jerec's been making up for lost time in learning the fine art of getting into trouble."

"Wise decision, Colton," Tauroneo commented as the group followed him inside. "Not many here have favorable opinions of Jerec anymore. Fortunately, at least one of them is not likely to trouble you further. By now, Zann is likely lamenting his ill-spent life in Niflheim."

"Niflheim?" Melanie wondered. "What's that?"

"In the ancient myths, Niflheim was a primordial realm of ice and cold, where those who'd failed to die heroically, or at least notably, went," Colton began. "On the northern coast, where it's coldest here, Daeins who commit heinous crimes, and Zann's list of those is long enough to carpet a house with, are hanged. Afterward, their bodies are dragged to the coast, to a section we call Niflheim, and left there for the arctic bears."

"Feeding people to the bears. What could possibly go wrong?"

"The bears dying from dysentery because of all the crappy people we dump out there?" Colton asked, prompting everyone within earshot to roll their eyes.

The the main doors led into a foyer and then into a sitting room, both of which were as breath-taking as the outside. The floor was lined with a long, plush carpet and a couple suits of ornate armor stood, seemingly at attention, along the walls. Two small chandeliers filled with handfuls of candles hung from the ceiling. Melanie almost stopped paying attention to the conversation entirely, mesmerized by the splendor she beheld.

"Leaving aside that I still can't get him to shut up," Jerec began, prompting Colton to begin shedding fake tears. "Colton has been a great help. I was worried what would happen if I was recognized here but, what happened with Zann notwithstanding, it seems that people listened when Queen Micaiah forbade anyone from touching me over my actions."

"That is true," Tauroneo said. "I was deeply relieved that she had done so. You may have left Daein, an act viewed…unfavorably, but your reasons were understandable. At the time, even I had begun to feel powerless in the face of this country's time of crisis."

"I can't say I blame you, sir. So, what else has changed around here? I would've expected that Micaiah reinstated you as one of the Four Riders."

"You'd think, and there were several core members of the Dawn Brigade who would've been a credit to the title. But Queen Micaiah ultimately decided to do away with the idea of having the Riders all together. Now the generals are just generals. She doesn't believe they need some foreboding title to validate their rank and strength. But I am still a general. The wars have left Daein's army badly thinned, and desperately short of officers, so I agreed to continue serving my country for as long as I am able."

"Oh, I see. That does make sense, I guess."

"So… Are you going to introduce me to the lovely lady you brought with you?" Tauroneo wondered. "I must say, it already looks like she would make a fine wife for you."

Jerec almost instantly went completely red upon hearing these words. Melanie also blushed and tried hard not to giggle.

"Oh, thank you, sir," she said with a smile.

"Er…" Jerec uttered. "Heh, actually…she is my girlfriend. This is Melanie. She's from Crimea. I didn't want her to come with me all this way, because…well, you know how Daein and Crimea still aren't on friendly terms. But she was persistent and…yeah."

Had any more blood rushed to Jerec's head, he might've fainted from the dizziness.

"Ah…" Tauroneo said, a rather punchy smile forming on his features. "Someone finally won over that prickly heart indeed, I see! It's a pleasure, Melanie."

"Oh, same here! I know that my decision to travel with Jerec did complicate things, but it's a decision I'd never take back," Melanie replied. "Especially since it meant having the chance to see a country that always seemed so dark before. I've met some wonderful people since coming here, and heard tell of many others. Jerec has told me much about you in particular. And your home! It's absolutely beautiful!"

"Why thank you," Tauroneo politely commented. "I admit, I sometimes feel lonely here with my family gone. But at the very least, this mansion is something I still have which I can cherish. It's been in my family for generations."

"Wow, I see. That's good to know."

"That reminds me, I've been wondering," Jerec spoke up. "Did you ever manage to reconnect with your family?"

"Ah, that," Tauroneo replied. "I can tell you, but we'll talk more once we're settled in the family room. I can ask the maid to prepare tea and scones if you would like as well."

"I suppose that would be fine," Jerec agreed. Colton and Melanie also chose to accept the offer.

Tauroneo then led them into a nearby room that looked even lovelier than the hall they'd just left. A couch and two matching chairs, both upholstered with cushions of soft velvet, sat in the center, along with a low table, glossy with the patina of age and careful polishing. An ornate stone fireplace, fashioned into the head of a bear, dominated the opposite wall, a warm fire blazing in its open jaws. Deep red curtains flanked the windows, finely woven and delicately secured with braided rope. The floor beneath, made of marble tiles that could almost pass as mirrors, had a rug as plush as the long carpet in the hall.

As they sat down, Tauroneo motioned another one of his guards to relay his instructions to the maid. Jerec and Melanie were allowed to sit upon the couch while Colton and Tauroneo used the chairs.

"Now," Tauroneo began. "I understand you must have a great deal on your mind, Jerec. And I take it you're nervous. You still have that letter I sent to you, right?"

"Yeah, I have it," Jerec confirmed. "And yeah, I'm definitely nervous. My father having had another child after my mother died is just…I still don't know what to make of it. And believe me, I've been turning it over so much that my head's spinning more than when I first got the news."

"I do understand. And I will try to make this as easy as possible," Tauroneo promised. "Your father, unfortunately, kept some information from you in order to protect you. He did not think you would be ready to know this until you were older. And needless to say, this is a secret he had been keeping for quite some time. He wished to tell you himself, but as you know, he was killed during the battle of Melior before he could, and he may have also believed you had perished in the collapse of Nados Castle."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Jerec said.

"Damn! You were in that?" Colton gasped. "I heard a rumor that said you were, but I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. How the heck did you survive?"

"Ah, I had a shield my father had been keeping for Ike's father," Jerec explained. "Well, I didn't know it was Ike's father back then, just that it was…an old friend of my father's. I learned that Ike was the intended recipient later, and decided that it was supposed to be passed down to Ike since his father himself could not. The shield protected me from being crushed by the debris, and though I was still buried, I was able to dig myself out after a couple days."

"Man, that had to be rough as hell," Colton commented.

"I'll say it was. I still don't know how I managed to shift all that rock without bringing it down on top of me."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about that," Melanie added. "I can't imagine being in such a situation."

"Indeed," Tauroneo agreed. "To continue, however, just before the Mad King's War, your father requested that I see him. I was instructed that if anything happened to him in Crimea, I was to pass this information on to you. He knew I was staying behind to help defend Nevassa, and he thought I had a better chance of survival. In hindsight, I've discovered cause to believe that Ashnard had…different reasons for having me stationed away from the invasion, but that's a story for another time. And of course, we know how that war ended. Once I realized who Ike was, I surrendered without any resistance, even going so far as to say that he could take me prisoner if he wished. I fully expected to pass the rest of the war in chains, or even to be beheaded, though I had little cause to complain after my family had left me and my king had turned his back on me. Much to my amazement, Ike showed great honor and compassion, allowing me to live and even to aid him. And I never regretted it. Especially since, ultimately, it meant I would be able to help Queen Micaiah to free this country from Begnion and to fulfill your father's wish…and have the chance to get back the family I drove away with my foolish pride."

"Yeah, I am glad to hear all that," Jerec commented. "This is a reason Ike is so well respected. He has that way of getting through to people, of showing them that he's trustworthy and good-hearted. Yeah, signing on with him usually seems pretty stupid at the time, but a lot of people have gotten second chances out of the bargain."

"That they have. Now, I do realize, I could have told you sooner, before you left. I wasn't sure how to go about it, for I could see that you were deeply conflicted at the time. Your country was in dire straits, and yet didn't feel like home anymore. You'd come back from Crimea with a new perspective which was…not appreciated by your peers. It seemed the last thing you needed was to learn that your father had been keeping dark secrets from you. By the time I decided that you had a right to know, even if you were angered by the news, you were already gone. Not long after, Begnion's "occupation" turned into a thinly veiled attempt to recolonize this country, and I joined the Dawn Brigade. After that…well, a lot happened after that, but I eventually had the chance to track you down. The rumors about a red-haired wandering mercenary in Crimea seemed a promising lead, which led to me contacting you. I thought it best to send the birth certificate with the letter, since I wasn't certain you'd come unless I showed you just what I wished to talk about. I apologize if it caused you any grief."

"I understand. It did catch me way off guard, but I know you meant well," Jerec assured. "I'll admit, I did think some…dark thoughts about the matter, but I know you wouldn't have brought this to my attention unless you were sure my father would've wanted it."

"Ah, I'm glad to hear it. As the birth certificate implied, your father did indeed have a second child," Tauroneo confirmed. "He had confessed it to me some time after he found out himself. From what I remember, Jerec, I believe you have a half-sister. She would be fourteen right now, if you hadn't already figured that out."

"I see. Yeah, I guessed it by the date on the certificate."

"Unfortunately, however, I don't know her name. Your father was unsure what to do at first, and had come to me for advice. He also spoke with Gawain, Ike's father. We both could see that he was in quite a state, wracked with guilt and dreading what the scandal would mean for you and your half-sister later in life. Eventually, we got him to take a deep breath and think the situation through. He admitted that he liked the idea of giving you a sibling to spend time with so you weren't alone as often as you were. But he also wasn't sure how you would handle knowing exactly how you came to have a sister, especially since his peers, who would be your peers when you grew, would judge you harshly for it. He eventually decided not to tell you until you were older. You were around ten years old at that time, if I recall. So your father neglected to tell any of us your sister's name, likely so it couldn't mistakenly slip. But he did tell us how to find her if there was need."

"Oh… So…what exactly did my father do? I…I've been terrified that it was something…awful," Jerec admitted.

"I understand that. I will admit that it was an unwise decision on his part. As for calling it awful, I am not so certain of that," Tauroneo replied. "His was no act of betrayal, merely…a lapse in judgement, brought on by grief and drink."

"I should hope so. From what I've known about General Bryce, he was the most dedicated and loyal man that you could possibly find," Colton stepped in. "And he believed in protecting and helping the weak and innocent, which was a hard message to sell back then. Him remarrying, I couldn't blame him for that, but I can't imagine him stepping out on his wife."

"Indeed," Tauroneo seconded. "But, never assume that good men are perfect men. After all, Ike's decision to leave Tellius did a terrible injury to Crimea, but he made it because, for lack of a better term, he's only human."

Jerec had to admit, that stung a bit. But since Tauroneo had a point, and had no way of knowing that Ike "just happened" to land on Altarais, where his strength and bravery were needed even more than in Crimea, he let it slide.

After all, he was hardly in a position to argue since mistakes being made by even the best of people was why he was here in the first place. At that moment, the maid arrived with the tray of tea and scones. She set it upon the small table, curtsied, and quickly left. Tauroneo took a cup, as did Melanie and Colton. Jerec decided to munch on a scone first. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd tasted something so delicious.

"Ah, something to warm the bones at last," Melanie opined as she downed the steaming liquid. "The view of the fjords was worth the whole trip, though I do wish we'd come at a different time of year. Thank you for your hospitality, general. And, please pass my compliments on to your staff."

"Of course, and I'm sure they'll appreciate it," Tauroneo replied before he resumed his story. "Now, I'd like to continue. Jerec, as you probably still remember, your father was in a very dark place after your mother passed. He had done everything he could to help her recover from the constant illnesses that wracked her frail body, and yet to no avail. Once it was obvious that she would not survive, he began to see himself as a failure to her. He loved her dearly, more than anything in the world, and yet he could only watch helplessly as she slipped away from him, with only his inner demons for company."

"Yeah… It still pains me to think about it. How I used to tell my father not to cry, that she still loved us even despite everything…" Jerec said, vainly trying to prevent tears from welling up in his eyes.

"I can believe it. And as you also probably know, he would sometimes drink to cope," Tauroneo continued. "One day when he went out to a tavern he frequented, he met a woman and had some connection with her. He stayed longer than usual due to this, and this resulted in him drinking far too much. The woman was doing the same, and…they went from the bar stools to a bed upstairs. And you know what they say about the process that leads to conceiving a child, it only takes once…"

Jerec and Colton both blinked upon hearing these words. Melanie could only let her jaw drop.

"…What? You…you're kidding me," Jerec finally uttered. "You're saying my father met some random woman at that tavern, got drunk with her, and then knocked her up in a one-time fling?"

Colton then brought his hands to his mouth in a vain, but determined attempt to suppress a gale of laughter. But Jerec and Melanie had no trouble hearing his chuckles.

"Oh my goddess," he muttered.

"Hey! What's the big idea here? You really think this is funny, Colton?!" Jerec snapped, looking genuinely livid.

"Ah…I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Colton replied between more laughing. "No, getting drunk with a random woman and knocking her up isn't funny. But for some reason, I find it hilarious to picture your father having done that. I can't help it, but I am sorry, I swear. Hahaha…!"

Jerec could only bring a hand to his now reddening face and valiantly suppress the image to plow his fist into Colton's also reddening face.

"That was kind of rude, Colton," Melanie pointed out candidly and then laid a reassuring hand on Jerec's shoulder. "Jerec, it's okay, I'm not laughing. I know your father wouldn't have done that if he'd been in his right mind."

"I know, I know, I'll stop now," Colton promised, and then regained his composure. "And I'm sorry."

"…Well, not quite the reaction I had expected from any of you," Tauroneo finally said. "But yes, that is what happened. Your father did not realize what he'd done until a while later, when that woman tracked him down and told him she was with child. Gawain and I were leery, since it's not unheard-of for unscrupulous women to…arrange such pregnancies to blackmail the father for money. Luckily, she seemed an honest woman who, like Bryce, let her judgement slip. Bryce deeply regretted what he had done, but swore he'd do his best to support your sister all the same. He visited her and sent gold to help them get by. He did know that, if anyone tipped to the truth, it would harm both of them. Ashnard was not forgiving, and would've likely thought that, if Bryce made such a mistake, he might make another during battle. And, that's leaving aside how your sister, and you, would've been stigmatized. So, Bryce took every precaution. Whenever anyone asked who the girl's father was, they were told he was one of Bryce's sergeants, who'd been killed in the line of duty. So, it hardly raised any suspicions when he'd check in on her while leading the patrols near her home."

"I see," Jerec commented, though he was stunned at trying to imagine the sheer effort it must've taken to accomplish all that without anyone else realizing the truth. "You said that you passed her off as the daughter of a fallen soldier, but does she know the truth?"

"Yes. She was told several years ago. Luckily, she has the wherewithal to keep a secret. But I'm afraid I don't know much else about her."

"Do you know of any way I can find my sister though? I would like to meet her."

The Daein vagabond had said the words before he could think better of them – before he could think, period, really – and, even if Tauroneo could point him to his half-sister and her mother, he wasn't entirely sure just what he'd do when he met them…if he met them.

It was entirely possible that his father had wanted Jerec to look after his half-sister and her mother, but he rather doubted that Bryce had counted on his son knocking on that door penniless, without a home, and with Melanie to look out for as well. Indeed, unless Micaiah was willing to return his family fortune, which was doubtful since she probably needed every coin she could scrape together to rebuild her twice ravaged country, what could he offer aside from a few kind words and, if they were needed, a pair of strong hands and a sturdy back? Which, of course, flew right in the face of his desire to keep his time in Daein as short as possible.

He shook himself from his dark reverie. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Besides, for all he knew, a few kind words were all they'd want from him.

For now, as Ike would probably say if he were here, "when it comes to family helping family, we find a way".

If his half-sister and her mother needed his help, he was going to help them.

The rest, he could figure out once he got there.

"I do. Thankfully, your father did tell me where she lives," Tauroneo confirmed. "Or at least, he gave me an idea. It's a house two roads east of the tavern where your father met the mother. It's the only one on that street with a yellow rose bush. Your father planted it there as a gift so that a piece of him would always be with them, and so he had a way to remember the location in case he forgot. Yellow roses symbolize family and friendship, so I imagine that's why he chose those."

"She and her mother still live there?" Colton spoke up. "Pardon me for saying, general, but wouldn't they have moved after all the brouhahas this city's had the past few years?"

"They've had to pack what they can and leave once or twice, but I'm certain. From time to time, your father and I would slip some of the city guards a few extra coins to make sure they were still there and to report any disturbances. I recently began doing so again, and the people I have watching the house have confirmed they're still here."

"Alright, I'll remember that description and head there as soon as I can," Jerec affirmed. "Thanks, General."

"You're welcome. But I would beg your company for a while longer. I'm eager to hear what you've done since we last saw each other. And there's…something else I have to tell you."

Tauroneo then became rather hesitant.

"Huh? What?" Jerec wondered.

"I apologize, I only learned of this next bit of information after I had already sent you the letter," Tauroneo replied. "I felt compelled to go to your father's old home and look at some of the things he'd left there. Things that I thought he might've meant for you, or your sister, to receive upon his passing. Heirlooms, gold, mementos, or any belongings that I wondered if you would've liked to have again. But while I knew there were some things that your father never told you, what I found turned out to be bigger than I could've ever thought possible."

"…W-What do you mean?" Jerec said, feeling that pang of nervousness again.

"Don't worry, this isn't another terrible decision your father made or anything of the sort. But…it does still involve your family."

"Alright…"

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I hadn't realized this before. Maybe it was for the same reason that your father didn't tell me your sister's name, I can't be certain. But I believe I do know why he wouldn't have told you, Jerec, as this may be very sensitive. It's not even actually just about you. It's also about Ike and his sister. And both your parentage and theirs. And I would like you to pass this information onto them should you have the chance. I realize that it would've been much better if you'd gotten this news before you left Crimea, and that there's no telling when or even if you'll be able to tell Ike. But even so, my conscience demands I do what I can to honor my old friend's wish."

"…Wait, what?"

Jerec could only raise an eyebrow here. What did Ike and Mist have to do with any of this?

"Yes. Jerec…did you know that your mother also had a younger sister?" Tauroneo inquired.

"Oh. I think I once heard a rumor that she had a sibling. But my father wouldn't tell me anything about her. There weren't any pictures of her in the house either. So I was never even sure if it was true or not," Jerec said. "And I suppose after a time, I guess I began subconsciously assuming that it wasn't."

"As I suspected. Your mother's sister was a priestess at Palmeni Temple. She was there not only to pray to the goddess, but to also look for ways to help your mother. From what I could gather, she was aware of her sister's condition and that try though he did, your father would not be able to help her. Your aunt's name was…Lady Elena."

"So that was her name. But why's that so important?"

Whatever Tauroneo had been expecting to hear from Jerec, that wasn't it. The general was silent for a long moment, regarding the lancer in shocked, stony silence.

"What?" he blurted after the pause. "You don't know… Oh dear."

"Huh?" Jerec wondered. "What? I'm confused now."

"Jerec… I apologize, I thought you would've heard her name before. Elena was…Gawain's wife. The mother of Ike and Mist. They are your family as well."

Colton didn't laugh this time. Both he and Melanie felt gasps escape their lips. Jerec's eyes pulsed wide, and he sagged in his seat, stunned with silence for the next few moments.

"W…WHAT?!" he suddenly blurted, belatedly noticing Tauroneo wince at his outburst. "S-Sorry. But…are…are you serious?!"

"Yes. It is true," the old general confirmed. "While searching the vault for anything that hadn't already been carted off, either by Begnion or those trying to make sure there's something in this country's coffers besides a bit of dust, I realized there was a hidden compartment in one corner. In it, I found letters that were sent between your parents and Ike and Mist's. Some were from before Gawain and Elena had fled the country, and others looked like they were smuggled here afterwards. They were likely hidden because by then, Ashnard's inner circle was aware that he wanted Gawain found, which meant anyone who had known them would've been questioned at some length. And that anyone found to be withholding information about their whereabouts might very well have been hung. In these letters, it was mentioned that Gawain and Elena had two children, Ike and Mist, and how Elena wished they could meet their aunt."

"I…I don't believe it…" Jerec barely managed to whisper.

"Neither did I, especially considering what would've happened to Bryce if Ashnard had found out that he was in contact with a wanted man. And I do remember that Gawain met Elena through your parents. Gawain and Bryce both wished to tell all three of you children, and that you all could be a proper family. But after Gawain and Elena fled with Lehran's Medallion, they knew it would be dangerous, not only because both were considered fugitives by Ashnard but also due to the bad blood developing between Daein and Crimea. I'm still not sure how Gawain and Elena kept on managing to get their letters smuggled over the border. They mentioned someone called The Fireman who was helping them, but I never did find any specifics in their correspondence."

Jerec wasn't sure how much time he needed to process this. First he learned he had a sister, now all of a sudden he had even more family as well, and they were people he'd known and befriended over the past few years. And one of them was Ike, of all the beorc in this world.

Had he taken a Meteor spell dead on, he'd have been less stunned.

"Oh, Jerec… I never imagined this either!" Melanie said.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Colton blurted. "The same guy who kicked our butts way back, and whose butt we kicked at Nox Castle, is your cousin?! This doesn't happen often at all, but I'm speechless!"

"Yeah, but… Ugh, oh my GODDESS," Jerec moaned in donning horror, bringing his hands to his face again. "I can't believe this!"

"Huh? I'd have thought you'd be happy to know you have more family," Colton pointed out. "Especially when that family includes Ike of all people. Didn't you say you and him had become good friends since that battle with the rogue wolf laguz?"

"Even I didn't expect you to be this upset, Jerec…" Tauroneo admitted. "I'm sorry."

"No, no no no, it's not that!" Jerec replied frantically. "I'd normally be glad to have more family. I wouldn't feel alone anymore. But…AGH! This is going to tear Ike apart to tiny shreds!"

"What do you mean?" Tauroneo wondered. "Wouldn't he be glad to have more family too?"

"Again, normally yes. But did you forget? You mentioned it yourself, Ike was the one who killed my father during the Mad King's War! That's why I was so angry when I was sent to Crimea to ask them for help against the wolves, especially since Ike had been put in charge of the mission. Don't you all know what this means? He killed his uncle! His own family!"

Jerec then lowered his face into his hands, stunned and knowing full well how much of a blow this would be to Ike. Granted, his most unlikely friend and newly discovered cousin was far away and hip deep in his own problems, but that wouldn't last forever. He still might return to Tellius, or Jerec might visit Altarais sometime in the future. Either way, inevitably, this newly discovered truth would reach him…and then hit him like a hammer to the guts. Ike already knew that his father killed his mother, even if his father had been driven to madness by Lehran's Medallion at the time. That had been harsh enough, and made Ike's reluctance to probe his father's history understandable. Now came the realization that Ike himself had killed his uncle. Unwittingly, yes, and after Bryce had been given the chance to surrender and refused; but that would be a cold comfort, at best.

Whatever store Ike set by strength, bravery, conviction, and judging others fairly, he valued family far more. And, learning he'd killed a member of his own family would cause him no small amount of anguish. It was as if his bloodline was being cursed, condemned to someday destroy that which he'd prized most by spilling the blood of another member of the family. And Jerec wouldn't blame Ike for feeling that way. As both of them were aware, those sorts of wounds never truly healed. He would never want to think that such a terrible thing was happening in his family either. He even began to wonder if that "curse" would extend to his side of the family as well.

"Oh no…" Melanie uttered. "That is an awful thing to find out. I'm so sorry, Jerec. And to Ike too…"

"Yeah. That's not something you ever want to hear," Colton agreed. "Especially with everything else going on. I'm sorry too. I wish I could be of more help."

"I know… Thanks," Jerec replied through his sobs. "I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to tell Ike…or Mist."

"Well… I can tell you that I'll be there with you," Melanie said with a smile.

"Yeah… Thanks again," Jerec said, managing a small smile.

"And you just have to assure Ike that he had no idea your father had any connection to him," Melanie continued. "That it wasn't his fault. He was fighting a war, Bryce happened to be on the opposite side, and by the sound of things, Ike did everything he could to take Bryce alive."

"Indeed," Tauroneo added. "She is right, Jerec. Ike didn't know. He couldn't have known. He must not blame himself for something none of us could have foreseen. You would do well to give him what support you can. As his friend and his kin. And the same goes for his sister."

"…That is true. You're right," Jerec agreed. "I have to do that, I have no choice. It'll probably take a while though. I've got my own problems, and Ike is on another continent. The journey to reach him will be a very long one, and maybe not an easy one either. And that's leaving aside that he's over there to fight a war. Hopefully by the time I arrive at…wherever the hell he is exactly, I'll be ready."

"That's right," Melanie said.

"Indeed," Tauroneo added. "And I have faith that you will. I assume you would like to depart as soon as possible, but might I ask you a small favor first?"

"Of course," Jerec replied, glad for the change of subject.

"What have you been doing since we last saw one another? I'd heard rumors of a red-haired mercenary in Crimea, which I suspected to be you, but those were few and far between."

"Ah, well, yes, that was me. Well, just after I resigned from the army, I headed back to Crimea."

From there, Jerec described how he'd found a new trade in Crimea as a mercenary, how he'd encountered Ike and the Greil Mercenaries a second time during their hunt for Ettard, how he'd passed the next few years earning what coin he could with his lance, always moving from place to place when he sensed too many people asking too many questions about him. With some difficulty, he relayed how, when Ludveck began his rebellion, he'd signed on with the loyalist irregular fighting forces and, when Begnion later invaded Crimea, how he'd fought alongside the Crimeans and the Laguz Alliance up until, shortly after the second battle of Riven Bridge, the war came to an abrupt and still mysterious end. He then told of some other jobs he took as a mercenary after the Goddess War, how he'd visited the Greil Mercenaries just after getting Tauroneo's letter, met Melanie following the battle at Rivertown, and the events leading him to the general's doorstep.

For a time, Jerec had gotten caught up in his own retelling. But he was jolted back to awareness when Colton suddenly rammed an elbow into his side. The Daein vagabond, who was becoming more and more reacquainted with why Colton's shenanigans used to aggravate him so much, was about to give his old friend a tongue lashing when he saw Colton's face wearing an uncharacteristically serious expression as he meaningfully craned his head in Tauroneo's direction.

When Jerec looked, he saw that the general looked aghast.

"Jerec," Tauroneo began, speaking very slowly. "Are you telling me you've been practically living on the streets for nearly five years?"

Maybe it was the look of shock on Tauroneo's face? Perhaps it was how, unwitting though it likely was, the phrase "living on the streets" was difficult to hear without sensing condescension in the tone? Possibly, it was that Jerec remembered how he'd seen others living on the streets – down-and-outers, as he'd sometimes heard them called – and he'd felt downright contemptuous towards those who, for whatever reason, called this street corner or that alleyway home after being too long ensnared by drink, opium, and/or gambling.

Jerec was none of those things, for he was still his own master and could still earn coin to get by…though, since he hadn't had a roof over his head that hadn't belonged to someone else, and almost never for more than one night at a time, he imagined that, to the practical eye, his own situation wasn't nearly as different as he believed.

Once he'd mastered himself, however, he felt that he was owed the chance to defend his decision. And, that Tauroneo was owed an explanation.

"After I returned from Crimea, Daein just didn't feel like home anymore," Jerec said simply. "You said so yourself just a few minutes ago. My mind, my beliefs, had changed, and I was resented for it. I knew I wasn't welcome here anymore, and that there wasn't anything I could do about it. I also knew that leaving the country meant I'd likely be swapping one set of problems for another. Crimea was the only real choice, and I knew the people there wouldn't accept me if they knew the truth. But I also knew that I'd become a stranger in my former home and, if I didn't leave then, sooner or later, I'd be made to leave. It was a hard choice, and neither of my options were all that appealing, but I chose."

It occurred to the lancer that his impromptu speech might've come across as high-handed, perhaps even condescending towards those he'd left behind, but, though he was no longer a solider of Daein, he yet retained their hot-blooded pride.

Anyone who wanted to step on that pride would have to kill him first.

The Daein vagabond regarded Tauroneo for a long moment, and the Daein general, in turn, regarded Jerec with thoughtful silence. For a very long moment, it seemed as though Tauroneo was mulling something over, weighing a decision of his own in his mind. Ultimately, he spoke.

"And what if I were to tell you that you have another choice?" he asked. "And where your options might not be so bleak?"

That had surprised Jerec, and this must've shown, for Tauroneo looked quite eager to elaborate. After a moment, however, he reined himself in.

"I understand that you have other business to take care of," Tauroneo admitted. "Obviously, there's you sister to see to, but that you also must see Mist, if that is possible. Whether or not you board a ship going to who knows where, she and the other Greil Mercenaries would be the most likely to know how you might relay what I've told you to Ike. Not to mention they'd know how to prepare you for such a journey, seeing as they've traveled by ship before. I rather doubt you have."

"Sounds like a plan to me, sir."

"And if there's anything I can do before you leave Daein again, let me know," Colton spoke up. "I owe you a few favors, all happenstance, of course, but I pay my debts."

"Ah, much obliged, my friend," Jerec said, finally managing a smile again.

"If I may ask, Melanie, I assume you'll be accompanying Jerec when he sees his sister?" Tauroneo inquired, to which Melanie nodded. "I suppose you're coming all the way here should've been a hint, eh? Well, I won't stop you. However, I can arrange for a wagon to be ready for you. Ours are designed to be used here and abroad, so it can be fitted with wheels or sledges, and these can be switched out as needed. It should make travel faster and easier than going on foot."

"Oh, wow, really? Thank you!" Jerec said again. "That would make things a lot easier!"

"Oh, yes, certainly!" Melanie agreed.

"Very good, and I hope you will return here later. I…suspect we have a lot to talk about."

It might've been Jerec's imagination, but he could swear that Melanie had caught his eye then and gave him a sliver of an encouraging nod. This reminded Jerec that, indeed, there was something he'd wanted to know. Melanie had brought it to his attention that night out in the snowfields and, though he'd nearly forgotten it while learning just how he'd come to have a half-sister, those coral eyes brought the recollection roaring back.

Melanie didn't say anything to encourage or discourage the question, but he somehow sensed that, if he passed up this opportunity to learn the truth, he would regret it.

With one indrawn breath, he decided that, having learned one painful truth and come up standing, he might as well see if he could take another.

"Actually, general, there is something I need to know," he began. "I want to know why Daein joined Begnion in their invasion of Crimea and the Laguz Alliance. The real reason, not the prevailing hunch I've been hearing since before we'd caught our breath after Ludveck's rebellion."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that myself," Colton spoke up. "Ever since-"

"Ever since you forged an official missive for then-King Pelleas so that you could get into Daein Keep and question him under false pretenses?" Tauroneo finished, somewhat testily.

After a long moment of staring at Colton in mingled shock and exasperation, Jerec turned back to his old mentor and flatly asked "So, why hasn't anyone beheaded this guy yet?"

"Because I convinced them that we needed the guillotine blades out in the woods, getting lumber for our housing projects," Colton replied, snickering as Jerec facepalmed before becoming serious again. "But, seriously. If you're willing, general, I'd like to know as well. Though…I have had a strong suspicion for a while, one that I would never hope to be true."

"You have?" Jerec said. Tauroneo's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah. I did some research in the library after that failed…ah, excursion General Tauroneo mentioned. And I found something that utterly terrified me. I also once heard a rumor about King Pelleas that would support my findings, but it's best for me not to elaborate further at the moment if the general is willing to tell us the truth."

"I…see."

"Hm. And what about you, Melanie?" Tauroneo asked gravely.

"I want to know as well," Melanie answered. "Even if he was…indirect about it, I think Jerec needs some closure on this matter. And, I wouldn't be much of a girlfriend if I wasn't here with him when he gets some peace at last."

"Very well. I will tell you, but this comes at a price. First, Jerec, you remember what I said about how you might have another choice before you? You will hear me out. Not just in exchange for this information, but out of respect for our long friendship and how you've been like family to me all these years. And second, whoever hears this information must take the Oath of the Veldsbane."

Jerec felt his lower jaw creak open, unable to hide his astonishment. The Oath of the Veldsbane, a term coined from the ancient Thracian epic which chronicled Leif's quest against the Loptyrian Cult, was the single most binding oath in Daein's harsh culture.

If any of those present broke it, those who remained would be obligated to not only kill the oathbreaker, but whomever else had heard the secret, even indirectly.

If Jerec did find Ike and Mist, he could not tell them without incurring a death sentence, for him and them. By that same token, Melanie could not tell her parents, assuming they ever welcomed her back, nor could Colton tell his wife.

To share this secret was to forfeit life.

Whatever the truth was behind Daein's decision to join Begnion, it was bigger than the lancer could've possibly imagined.

Much, much bigger.

Colton, who shared Jerec's amazement, quickly relayed all this to Melanie, and candidly told her that no one would think less of her if she reconsidered taking this oath. Unsurprisingly, but worryingly, Melanie didn't budge.

Seeing this, Tauroneo brought forth a jeweled dagger, a jeweled goblet, and a small vial of a strange oily looking liquid. After a moment, he fetched a bottle of wine and a glass as well. Jerec didn't need to ask why, for he already knew.

Knowing that it was too late to take back his promise, Jerec took the knife in one hand, spun and twirled it in a complex pattern, and grasped the blade itself with his other hand.

"By my word and by my blood," he intoned, trying not to let his words waver, "I swear that this oath shall be kept until it is deemed fulfilled or until death takes me. Should I prove false, may the ichor boil in my veins."

After finishing the macabre recitation, the lancer tore the dagger from his clenched fingers, gritting his teeth against the pain. Quickly, he moved his bleeding hand over the goblet, allowing the dripping blood to pool within. With palpable reluctance, he passed the dagger to Melanie. Despite a few mistakes in the spinning and twirling of the blade, she did remarkably well in mimicking Jerec's movements. Though, she did grimace quite a bit as she cut her hand upon the blade.

"Quite a bit different than the Zofian pinky promise that's usually good enough in Crimea, eh?" Colton said, cheekily but not unkindly.

"It stings," Melanie admitted, though Jerec was positive she was understating the case. By a lot.

"Here," Tauroneo pushed the freshly filled wine glass to Melanie. "That'll help with the pain."

As a healer, Melanie had used alcohol as a painkiller and disinfectant, but was clearly unused to actually drinking it. Her nose wrinkled at the wine's strong bouquet and, as the deep red liquid passed her lips, the lancer could practically hear her face contort into a grimace. Still, she slipped eagerly and, though her face crinkled in displeasure, she nonetheless thanked Tauroneo for his help.

"Real men drown the pain with beer," Colton commented after he'd performed his part of the ritual. "Tastes better, and you don't have to stick it in a cellar for decades before you can actually drink it."

For a long moment, Melanie regarded Colton's ever-teasing expression. Then, her eyes dipped towards his torso, and then met his gaze again.

"I think I'd like to keep my dress size right where it is, thank you," she replied cheekily.

"Jerec, did your girlfriend just obliquely call me fat? Men have lost teeth doing that."

"Oh? And, what do the women lose when they do that?"

"Before I met my wonderful wife? They'd lose…a night's sleep."

Ordinarily, the lancer would've given a terse response to Colton's childishness, but he decided to ignore it this time. Aside from the off-chance the Daein lieutenant might get bored and bother someone else, Jerec had a lot on his mind. Though he had to admit now, he did feel somewhat more at ease, since he'd soon have some answers despite the gravity of the Veldsbane Oath. His problems weren't over yet, though. Not entirely. Regardless of just what Tauroneo had to tell him, there was still what he now had to tell Ike and Mist, if he could reach either of them. Then, there was his sister. How would she react to meeting him? Would she like him, even though he had little to offer her? And what was her mother like? Did she still care about Bryce or visit his grave at all? These were questions to which Jerec very well hoped he would find good answers to. He didn't want another family to resent him, especially after what had happened with Melanie's.

Once Tauroneo had added his own blood to the goblet, he emptied the strange oily liquid into it. He then removed a candle from the candelabra and, to the astonishment of his small audience, set the contents of the goblet on fire.

"How did you do that?" Melanie wondered, unable to hide her amazement. "Blood is seven tenths water, it's just not flammable!"

"You'll have to allow an old man at least a few secrets," Tauroneo replied. "Now, I suggest you brace yourself. This is a story you might find…shocking."

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