"An Expiration?! What in the gods' names do you mean by a damn Expiration?"

Nila, who had been ever quiet after the events of the incident that led to the near-destruction of the Abnorun Palace, soon found words surging from his mouth. Chris, the bearer of news to Nila, stood with his arms wrapped tightly in his dark robes, watching the tactician spew venom.

"I'll tell you what that was, that was a gods' damned display of terror! Have you even seen what I've done to this place?"

"Nila, everything is alright," Chris broke in, laying a comforting hand on the enraged tactician's shoulder, "I can—"

The tactician tore Chris' hand from his shoulder, pointing an accusatory finger at the younger Plegian.

"No, everything's not alright! I'm twenty-four years old, I don't need some damned kid telling me that what I did is okay! Did you even look at the Son over there? And you—" the tactician shifted his gaze and his finger to Grace, who was timidly standing next to the black-dressed Iris, "You nearly died! I almost killed you! And you don't even care about that!"

"Of course I care!" Grace shouted, her volume matching Nila's, "But I'm still here, and you're still here. No one died except for the bastard on the floor and his friends. That matters more than anything else!"

"Why the hell aren't you upset? I—"

The dark-robed Chris shoved Nila into a blackened wall, cutting off his infuriated ranting. The tactician let out a pained grunt as the weight of the impact pressed into his still-wounded right shoulder.

"Nila," the dark mage said with an impatient tone, carefully articulating his words, "I know exactly what happened. I will explain it to you. But first, I need you to calm down. Do you understand?"

Nila's breaths came rapidly, equal parts from panic and anger. He fumed for some time while Chris held him firmly in place against the wall. Eventually, the Plegian tactician managed a nod.

"Good. Now we just need to collect the Queen, and we can be on our way. If I remember correctly, she should be on the balcony."

The dark mage motioned for Iris to follow him, and the two exited through the sole remaining door at the back of the room, untouched from the earlier magical catastrophe. Their departure, however, left Nila and Grace in a heavy, unbearable silence.

The Plegian tactician took a seat on the ruined bedspread, and gave Grace a remorseful look. Whatever expression she had, Nila couldn't see. The myrmidon had since turned from the room, and instead gazed into the black abyss just outside.

"Have you calmed down now?" Grace asked, keeping her gaze faced away from Nila. He nodded, but quickly corrected his mistake and let out a soft yes. The myrmidon gave a quiet sigh before turning back to Nila. The corners of her eyes were red and visibly damp, revealing her hidden emotions.

"Good. I don't ever want to see you that way again. It isn't you."

"I'm so sorry, Grace," the Plegian murmured, as if he had expended the whole of his voice, "I don't know why I acted the way I did. It just… came out."

"It's fine. We have more important things to worry about now, anyway."

Bringing their conversation to an unexpected halt, Chris and Iris pushed open the balcony door, struggling to carry a burden between the two of them.

"Nila, out of the way," Chris commanded, at which Nila nodded and stepped away from the tattered bedside. The two dark-dressed people stepped in tandem, laying the collapsed form of Meliora on the dusty red sheets. Iris drew her staff, violet light once again rising up the gilded pole as she channeled magical energy into it. Nila watched over the sight, his expression once again becoming that of concern.

"Did I… do that?" Nila asked hesitantly.

"Yes, but you mustn't worry," Chris reassured, "I saw it from the courtyard. Your Expiration sent her head into the balcony guardrail. She's unconscious and her head is bleeding, but her skull seems to be intact. Speaking of…" The dark mage grabbed Nila by the arm, coaxing him towards the ruined doorway. He shot Grace a look before continuing.

"Now would be as good a time as any to explain to both of you what exactly just happened. You two seem close, so I don't believe you see a problem with this, Nila."

As Chris finished his sentence, Nila could have sworn he saw a certain look flash across Grace's eyes, if only for a moment. He brushed it off as his mind manipulating what his eyes saw, as it so often did, before Chris clapped his hands together once for attention and started speaking again.

"I suppose we should start with the basics. How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I suppose," Nila responded, "My left arm isn't working and I'm almost as bright as a torch, but I'm fine otherwise."

"Your left wouldn't happen to be the same arm you cast spells from, would it?" Chris took a moment to assess Nila's face, apparently learning enough from the tactician's eyes to continue rather than letting him respond himself. "That is normal, not to worry. It should be back to normal in the matter of an hour. An Expiration is no easy thing to cast. You are summoning the power of death incarnate. It takes from you nearly as much as it does those it strikes."

He kicked the dead Son once before cringing and pushing the corpse from the room. He shuddered as the corpse's face rose up to meet his, and quickly darted back inside.

"His life," the dark mage stated flatly, an odd transition from his recent, slightly disturbed state, "Your arm, your usual range of motion, and oddly, your hair color."

Chris pointed to his own strands of hair, specifically the many white flecks speckled through a thin sea of brown.

"I'm not sure why it happens, myself," the Plegian mage pondered, "But every cast turns more and more of your hair white. I've speculated that it's due to a rapid buildup and high concentration of dark energy, but I cannot say so definitely."

"Wait," Nila interjected as he put fragments of Chris' statement together in his mind, "That would mean you've cast your fair share of Expirations. Am I wrong?"

Chris didn't immediately respond, but what little of his face was visible revealed a slightly forlorn demeanor.

"…Yes," Chris nodded hesitantly, "I've Expired far more times than most would care to admit. For many reasons and at varying strengths, but many have found an end at an Expiration of mine. And I'm certainly not proud of it."

"In that case, why don't we see many more… explosions like this one on a regular basis?" Grace asked, speaking up for the first time, "Being of Fell blood isn't exactly rare."

"Not every cast is as wild and destructive as this one," the dark mage explained, turning to acknowledge the maroon-haired woman, "Most Fellblood are aware the dangers of such destructive power, so it is rarely used to begin with. Those who do use it, however, keep the channeled energy low. Expiration usually appears similar to Mire or Goetia while still retaining most of its power."

Chris' gaze turned back to Nila before continuing.

"Who exactly was the Fellblood in your family, anyway? You're much older than I, and yet you know so little."

"My mother," Nila affirmed.

"Did you not notice any white hair on your mother's head? Did she ever explain anything to you?"

"Just one long, thin lock. I had always assumed it was dye until now. But no, she rarely mentioned a word about my blood. She always told me that some things were better left unexplained."

Chris' expression soured as Nila spoke.

"That was completely irresponsible of her. As a Fellblood, she should have known how important it was for you to be aware of this. But now that you know of its destructive power, I implore you to never Expire again, no matter the circumstances. Some power is best left undisturbed. A lesson I have learned the hard way."

"After that," Nila said, shooting a glance at the fallen Son, "you don't need to tell me twice."

After a moment of silence, the tactician soon noticed that his fellow Plegian's gaze was pointed just over his shoulder, even with the ivory mask concealing his eyes. Nila turned to follow his eyes, and was greeted with the sight of Queen Meliora rising from the bedsheets, clutching the back of her skull. She stared at Nila, Chris, and Grace for some time, probably letting her blurred vision clear, before uttering, "Nila, I admire your dedication for protecting your queen, but let the next time be much, much less explosive. Please."

"Y-your Grace," Nila sputtered, dropping to a knee, "I apologize. Forgive me."

The Autumn Queen rolled her eyes before pulling herself from the bed and onto the floor. She stumbled briefly before returning to a regal, upright standing position.

"Nila, please. We've been over this before," she insisted, but her words got her nowhere. The tactician refused to move from his spot on the ground, his gaze held low. Meliora took several furtive steps over to Nila before forcefully pulling from his knees.

"You're just like your mother. I haven't decided whether or not it is a good thing yet."

The queen turned to the other three, beckoning them from the shattered bedroom with a flick of her head.

"Come on, we're leaving."

Chris and Iris quickly fell in step with their queen, who moved quickly, despite being so heavily armored. Grace was slightly slower to react, as she took her time watching Nila before taking steps of her own. As soon as she put weight on her left leg, she let out a pained yelp and fell to the floor. Nila was instantly at her side, Iris not a moment behind him. The hierophant shooed him away before drawing her staff.

"Grace!" she exclaimed, kneeling down beside the fallen myrmidon, "Are you alright, dear? Where does it hurt?"

"My… leg…" she managed to spit out. Iris channeled a soothing healing spell before her pained sentence was finished. Grace's skin was slow to react, but her skin eventually reformed and sealed over the torn flesh. The Ylissean stood, tentatively putting weight on the leg, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Iris," she said, giving the dark-dressed woman a soft smile. The hierophant smiled back before a realization crossed her mind, forcing her gaze downward.

In a much softer voice than her previous exclamation, she muttered, "Not a problem. But remember, it's only a quick fix. Try not to hurt it again."

Several moments passed in silence before Nila looked up from his glowing arm to observe the scene in front of him. Iris had since started staring at him, her expression was one of concern.

…How long had he been staring at his arm?

"Is there anything I can do for him?" she asked, her grip tightening on her staff as she addressed the masked man.

Chris shook his head softly, and pursed his lips in contemplation.

"I'm afraid not," he advised, "Unfortunately, his damage goes much further beyond what traditional healing staves can comprehend. If I was him, I would rest here as long as I was able."

"No, no," Nila assured, "I'm fine. Let's leave this terrible place and find Matt and the others. They're no doubt worried about us."

The tactician's Fellblood-brother looked him up and down once, an unsure expression on his face. He gave a heavy sigh before turning away from Nila.

"So you're the stubborn one. Stubborn and prone to mood swings. I will admit that I didn't quite expect that out of you."

"I—wha…?" Nila balked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Absolutely nothing. But you said it yourself: it's high time we left the palace. So what are we waiting for?"

The dark mage gave his Queen a nod, and the three exited the ruined room at a brisk run. Grace lingered behind, a curious gaze fixed upon her friend.

"Aren't you coming?" she inquired, her curiosity quickly transitioning to confusion. Nila nodded quickly.

"Of course. I'm right behind you."

The Plegian struggled to take a step forward, his legs feeling as if they were bogged down in heavy quicksand. He was barely able to move on his own, but eventually managed a single shaky step. Nila attempted a second, only to stumble forward. Grace's arms were in the path of his fall more quickly than he realized, and he soon found himself safely in the arms of his friend.

Grace propped Nila up before shooting him a look of concern.

"You're sure that you're okay?"

The tactician was quiet for some time before he sighed and threw his sole working hand up in defeat.

"Alright, alright. Maybe I'm not."

"Perfect," she beamed, her smile somewhere in between genuinely pleased and mischievous. Nila's expression quickly soured as he struggled to comprehend what exactly Grace was planning.

"What are you—gah!"

His sentence was quickly brought to a halt as the maroon-haired myrmidon scooped him up in her arms, a cocky grin plastered over her face. Nila remained in stunned silence for a moment, a thousand different thoughts running through his head. But the novelty of the situation quickly wore off, and he started to struggle.

"A-are you sure you can carry me around like this?" he stuttered, only to be met by an even bigger grin from Grace.

"Positive. Now let's catch up to the others, they're no doubt waiting for us."

Despite such a heavy burden in her arms, Grace was surprisingly quick. She bounded down the abyss-turned hall with a lithe spring in her step. Even in the consuming darkness of the passageway, Grace carried on with a rigorous fervor that Nila couldn't help but respect.

At the same time, Nila felt the telltale presence of Other Nila resurface, but the malicious voice had nothing to say about the situation. Still, his mere presence was volumes more than a simple off-putting sensation. In combination with the general gloomy atmosphere, the Plegian found himself curling up in Grace's arms, hoping for the fear to withdraw.

The moment, both serene and flesh-crawling, came to an end as quickly as it started. As Nila and Grace made it to the well-lit common area just at the top of the stairs, Other Nila vanished in tandem with the gloom, almost as if he had never been there in the first place.

Nila glanced down the stairs to discover that Chris, Iris, and Meliora were waiting just below. Grace must have figured it out as well, as the two were soon descending down the stairs together. Eventually, the five allies were united once again in the red carpeted hallway in front of the indoor fountain. Iris seemed genuinely pleased to see the two together, to Nila's surprise.

Before anyone was able to say a word or move a step, however, an ear-splitting crack emanated throughout the empty entrance foyer. A sole, wooden-shafted ballista bolt crashed through the high-vaulted ceiling, landing square in the center of the long, red carpet. A devastating shockwave immediately followed, sending everyone stumbling to the floor. Grace fought to make sure Nila didn't fall from her arms, but even she was powerless to stop him from being violently thrown into the floor.

It was as if the world itself was crumbling around the five: stone fragments descended from the ceiling, shattering instantly as they stuck against the sturdy floor. As quickly as it started, though, the crumbling ended. Nila managed to find the strength to pull himself into a weak standing position with the help of an untouched stair bannister.

The damage was simply devastating. Parts of the ceiling had become dislodged, and were scattered around the expansive entrance hall. The worst of the damage was centered around the main entrance, which was completely sealed off with debris. The cracks running up the segments of wall that were still mostly in one piece were hardly reassuring.

It was evident that the rest of the palace was soon to follow.

"Well, isn't that perfect?" Grace spat, brushing a loose strand of maroon hair from her eyes, "Right in front of the entrance."

The myrmidon hoisted herself from the ground, slowly approaching Queen Meliora. The Autumn Queen responded without meeting her eyes, gaze affixed to the ruined entrance.

"That was the only way," she stated plainly, a quivering fear present in the back of her throat. "Unless any of you have a bright idea, this place will soon become our tomb."

"Haven't you Plegians gotten around to designing a modern fire code yet?" Grace seethed, clenching the skin of her forehead, "Fine, fine. It's okay. I'll go see if I can find a loose section of wall."

The queen, her advisor, and the dark mage engaged in a low-voiced conversation while Grace ran her pale fingers over the sandstone walls. Nila, however, occupied his time with the ballista bolt in the center of the room.

The massive bolt seemed almost out of place in its Plegian surroundings. Its shaft was dark-wooded and hardy, while the bolt head was crafted with a dark gray iron; two design features not typically present in traditional Plegian weaponry. The tactician was transfixed on the bolt, his surroundings melting away in a sea of gray and yellow.

Where had he seen this before? Had he seen this before?

But as is inevitable with the ocean, the tide washed in, focusing Nila on reality.

"Is there supposed to be a keyhole in this wall?" Grace piped up, standing next to a mostly inconspicuous portion of sand-yellow wall. It took Nila a moment to tear his gaze away from the bolt and study the wall, but there was indeed a tiny keyhole lodged into the gap between two bricks. On the floor just below lay the shattered remnants of a portrait featuring a man Nila wasn't able to recognize. Messy red hair and a wispy beard to match adorned the man's face, and a gaudy crown sat upon his head.

"I… I've never seen that before," Meliora responded, running an olive-tinted finger over the slight indent, "Simply remarkable…"

"You wouldn't happen to have a key, would you?" Grace questioned further. Whatever hopes she had, however, were dashed with the simple shaking of Meliora's head.

"I'm afraid not. To be honest, I'm not sure a key even exists for that anymore. The lock seems to be quite old."

"Not to worry. I'm sure I can crack it open in a few minutes."

Grace rifled through her pack before pulling out a black-steel lockpick and a tension wrench. She wasted little time, and was digging into the wall with furor not a moment later.

"Y-you know how to pick locks?" Nila blurted, the notion not able to fit with his existing schema of his sweet childhood friend.

"Of course. Every girl learns her most valuable life-skills from her mother, after all."

"I didn't know Serena was a thief…"

"Not a thief," the myrmidon corrected with a half-joking, half-annoyed tone, "A locksmith… I think. Picking locks comes with the business, or so I was told."

Grace put a heavier bit of pressure on the wall-lock, causing it to snap open with a satisfying clang. A handle, which had previously blended in immaculately with its surroundings, pushed from the wall, ready to be pulled. The wall-door yielded quite readily to the myrmidon's tug to reveal a thin, dark set of descending stairs. Exactly how far down they traveled was obscured by layers of dust and darkness.

"And there you have it. After you, Queen Meliora."

Without a second of hesitation, the Autumn Queen descended down the time-worn steps. Her first footfall sent a cloud of dust billowing into the air. Iris followed her queen closely, with Chris close behind.

With the other three tucked away into the passages, Grace turned to Nila, holding her arms out expectantly. But the Plegian simply held a hand up, shook his head, and plodded slowly towards the dark entrance with nary a second glance.

While Nila found his condition improving, it was a far-cry from a full recovery. He could walk, of course, but his left arm still hung uselessly at his side. As he descended down the cold, gray steps, Grace's presence and the soft glow emanating from his veins was enough to keep his paranoia at bay.

But a rumbling, identical to the tremors only a few minutes ago, would soon disrupt Nila's unstable sense of security. Grace immediately picked up on what was happening, and scooped the unsuspecting tactician up and over her shoulder before running down the steps two at a time. It wasn't long before she caught up to Iris, Chris, and Meliora, the former two both brandishing conjured fire lights over outstretched hands. The three Plegians had broken out in panicked dashes of their own, magical fires extinguishing, as catastrophic tremors enveloped the passage.

Marius held his snake-wrapped soothing sword firmly in front of him, its razor-sharp blade pointed at a lance-wielding Daughter of Naga. The four of them—Chast, Valkus, Dom, and himself—had been ambushed as they traveled towards the crumbling palace, and Marius found himself backed into a corner of an alleyway against an adversary with an unfortunate weapon advantage. Wherever the others had ended up was beyond him.

The Dread Fighter had no options to exploit while at such a range disadvantage, a fact that the Daughter keenly picked up on. She wasted no time, thrusting her spear straight towards Marius' chest. His sword was quicker than her hands, however, and her bronze-tipped weapon found nothing but the sleek surface of his blade. The green-tipped lance bounced uselessly to the cultist's side.

This did little to deter the Daughter, however, and she immediately followed up with a second thrust. Marius proved swifter once again, blocking the blow with ease. The cultist struck blow after blow, each one clanging off of Marius' steel blade.

"They don't make bad guys like they used to," the Dread Fighter quipped, giving the Daughter a cocky smirk, "The Easterners were much more fun to play with than you are."

Marius saw the rage pour through her veins, only proving to widen his smile. This was the chance he was looking for. The Daughter's blows became much more powerful, being driven by fury instead of the focus she displayed before. In no time at all, the Feroxian Dread Fighter worked his way within the cultist's elbow reach, swiftly disarming her with a quick blow to her hands. She had played right into Marius' hands.

The tables had turned, and the Daughter now found herself backed into an opposite corner. Marius drew his dusty brown spellbook from his belt, working a Thunder spell around his sword hand. The Dread Fighter sheathed his sword, and pressed his now free hand into the Daughter's neck. She briefly screamed in pain before dropping limply to the ground, a black hand mark around her neck to show from the confrontation.

"That was shocking," Marius said with a laugh, giving the Daughter one final kick with his black leather boots stepping out into the smoke-filled Abnorun streets. But he misjudged exactly how clouded the streets were, and inhaled a mouthful of the acrid, black gas. As he choked, Marius managed to draw his spellbook once again, channeling a weak wind spell through his outstretched hand to blow away most of the choking gas. Despite his efforts, it was still incredibly difficult to breathe.

Aside from the roaring of fire, not a sound could be heard. Marius figured that most of the citizens would have escaped at best, or lost their lives at worst. He shuddered as he thought of how many might have died in the assault, each one a personal loss for the Justice Brigade. Chris had cried out to them for aid, but all he was given was a burning city and broken bodies lining the streets. And to make matters worse, there was still an unknown amount of Sons creeping throughout the darkened streets.

Aside from his allies and the enemy, Marius was entirely alone.

The Dread Fighter's ears pricked as soft footsteps joined the infernal chorus, and he unsheathed his sword as he turned to meet the newcomers. To his relief, Chast, Valkus, and Dom stepped from the shadows. The three of them were quite worse for wear; Chast's breastplate was still broken in two from her engagement with the musclebound, axe-wielding Son from before, while the latter two had various bruises and breaks in their armor.

"Marius!" Chast called, placing a hand to her chest in relief, "Oh, thank the gods it's you!"

"Any luck finding Matt or the others, Marius?" Valkus implored, wasting no time to shift the discussion to business. "I don't want to leave anyone behind, but this smoke just keeps getting worse and worse…"

The Dread Fighter gave a frown, indicative of his results.

"No luck on my end, Valk. Just smoke, some Sons, and a lot of dust."

"You too, huh…" Valkus said with dejectment, "Unfortunately, the three of us have seen nothing different than you have since we were separated.

"Do you think Matt's okay?" Marius' question was sudden, yet filled with hesitation. He was frustrated that he had held doubts for his leader, but the gravity of the situation had posed a question to him since the very beginning of the attack.

What if Matt wasn't coming back?

Valkus must have gone through a similar thought process, as she found herself lost for words as she started to answer Marius' question. She looked down, but the small portion of her eyes that Marius could see were filled with sullenness and uncertainty.

She then lifted her chin up, trying to put on the bravest face she could for her companions.

"I… I don't know," she managed to say, something akin to trembling at the back of her throat. She then fell silent, averting her gaze from her friends.

"Hey, you don't think that…" Chast trailed off, unable to bring herself to say what everyone else was thinking.

Valkus tried to finish her friend's sentence, but she couldn't find the strength. Her voice was no more than a murmur as she spoke, "I just don't know anymore… We don't know where he left to this morning, and the entire town is on fire…"

She sighed, clutching her black-tipped lance close to her armored body. In her suit of armor, Valkus always looked larger and braver than she really was. But now she looked… small. She looked more like a lost, young child than the powerful, no-nonsense second-in-command that Marius had always looked up to.

"Matt always had a way of pulling everyone together," she said, holding back tears, "but without him… I don't think we can continue our mission any longer. We need to escape."

Marius' eyes widened in shock, but Valkus' statement nearly sent Chast reeling backwards in bewilderment.

"What? You're not serious, are you?" The silence that followed the Falcon Knight's question was more than a sufficient answer, yet Valkus interjected regardless.

"We have no other choice."

Chast wasted no time in responding after slamming the base of her blessed lance into the ground. "We always have a choice! We've been in bleak situations before!"

"None as bleak as this one, I'm afraid…"

The white-armored Falcon Knight stood in silence for a moment, looking her friend up and down.

"I can't believe how easy this is for you."

Chast's accusation was the final act that shoved Valkus' gloom into all-out fury. Her eyes filled with fires even more intense than the ones consuming Abnorun as she grabbed Chast by the neck, pulling her in close.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" she snarled, shoving the frightened Falcon Knight to the ground, "I'd rather tear my heart out with my bare hands then leave Matt behind! He's done too much for me to throw it away!"

She paused for a moment, her senses finally catching up to her after being clouded by her emotions. One look at Chast, sprawled out on the ash-covered Abnorun streets, was all it took for Valkus to have guilt etched into her face. She was quick calm down and retreat back inside her shell, literally and figuratively.

The general sat down inside her armor, becoming fully immersed by the breastplate's massive size. It was only in moments like these that Marius understood how small Valkus was.

Marius helped Chast to her feet while Valkus continued speaking in a strained, choked up voice voice, "But Matt also taught me self-preservation. He said that if something like this ever happened to him, he was trusting me to make sure you all stay safe. That means you, Marius, Hunter… gods know where he is either…"

"A hell of a leader I'm turning out to be, huh?" Valkus gave one final dejection of herself before falling silent, hidden away in her suit of armor.

After Chast recovered to her feet, she placed a hand at the base of her neck. From the red outlines of Valkus' fingers, it was glaringly obvious that she was still in pain. She blew air from her nose angrily, somewhere between a huff and a sigh before turning to Marius.

"What are you waiting for?" she spat, "Say something to her! She just won't see reason…"

The Feroxian Dread Fighter looked at Chast, then shifted his gaze to the broken Valkus several paces away. Why couldn't Chast see the damage that she was doing?

"You're really not making this any better." Marius' words were flat, so much so that Chast practically recoiled in shock. Such an expression was so far beyond the Dread Fighter's upbeat personality that she simply couldn't comprehend it.

"W-wha…?"

Marius turned towards the Falcon Knight, his eyes darkly staring her down. So much so that it was disturbing to the white-haired Ylissean.

"If Matt's alive, he'll find his way to us. Leaving him behind tears me up inside as much as any of you!"

With his angered yelling out of the way, Marius seemed to quite heavily deflate. Holding that kind of a tone with his closest friend was too exhausting for him to handle for too long. Eventually, he settled with a simple, sad stare.

"Matt's my best friend," he said, this time much more quietly and gently, "And like Valkus said, he's our foundation; our emotional crutch. It's difficult to give someone up like that, I know. But sometimes, you have to be selfish to keep yourself and the ones around you alive."

For a moment, Chast was stunned to the spot with an uncertain, yet slightly remorseful expression on her face. It wasn't often that Marius took such an offensive tone—so long that he could hardly recall the last time he acted in that way—and the weight of his words seemed to knock the stubborn Falcon Knight down, if only for a moment.

However, she managed to find her feet in no time at all. She turned away from Valkus—who had since emerged from her suit of armor—and Marius, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

"Fine," she spat, "If that's how the two of you feel, I'm going back in alone. To hell with you."

Valkus immediately stepped to Chast's side, grabbing her wrist to slow her down. The Falcon Knight immediately pulled away, glaring daggers at her companion.

"You can't go in there alone!" Valkus urged, trying once again to hold Chast in place. The Ylissean, however, deftly pulled her wrist away from the general's outstretched hand.

"I'm just being selfish! 'Keeping the ones around me alive.' That's a good thing, is it not?"

Marius covered his face with a hand, both out of embarrassment and to hide his anger towards his Ylissean friend.

"That isn't what I meant and you know it," he said with a warning tone, fingernails digging into his forehead.

Chast held her arms out wide, the reflection of the flames behind her glinting off her vibrantly white armor. With her accompanying red eyes, she seemed almost demonic against her surroundings.

"Well, who's going to stop me?" Chast taunted, "I doubt you two will do anything about it. When you get right down to it, all you two care about are yourselves! I'm going to save Matt, Hunter, Nila, and everyone else! And I don't need your help to do it!"

Chast's infuriating and downright childish behavior caused Marius to grit his teeth in frustration. Just then, however, a sickeningly cruel idea popped into his head. He knew if he spat the words out, there'd be no going back. But a small voice in the back of his head told him it would be the only way to keep Chast from harm's way.

He breathed in and out once heavily, a determined look in his eyes before he spoke.

"What about Owar? What am I supposed to tell her if we find your burned corpse in the city streets?"

The Falcon Knight's cocky, determined expression melted away to reveal a glowering, furious one. While his words seemed to commanded Chast's attention, Marius was well aware that he stepped over several carefully-placed boundaries.

"You do not use Owar as a bargaining chip!"

Marius had seen Chast angry before, albeit usually directed at enemies, but this fury was unlike anything that he had ever seen. Especially now that he found himself pressed against a stone wall, with Chast's frightening red eyes only inches away from his face. All the while, brittle, burnt pieces of stone bounced rhythmically off of his head, which didn't seem to bother Chast at all.

Valkus was quick to pull the infuriated Chast off of Marius. Their physical confrontation had started Valkus' tears again, which were streaming slowly down her cheeks. They were only given away by the bright light of fire surrounding the three.

Valkus opened her mouth, as if to say something, but instead turned her head to the sky, a perplexed look about her as she halted her speech immediately. She listened for a moment, her head shifting quickly every which way.

"D-did anyone else hear that?" she asked, her voice still trembling from her flood of emotions. Even still, she kept her gaze pointed upwards, trying to determine the source of the noise.

"Trouble?" the previously silent Dom demanded, his grip tightening on his mighty hammer. It was only now that Marius realized that the blacksmith had been patiently watching the other three dispute the entire time, not once interfering in their business.

Whether Valkus noticed or not was beyond him. But she shook her head to answer Dom's question.

"No… more like… the flapping of wings."

"Leathery or feathered?" Chast broke in, her previous hostility seemingly melted away. From her new, vaguely affable demeanor combined with the bizarre question, she yielded three very baffled stares from her companions.

The blacksmith was the first to voice the group's question. "…There's a difference?"

"Of course there's a difference! One sounds more like a—"

Chast immediately ceased her speech as a white, yet slightly blackened feather tumbled out of the smoke and flames, coming to rest right at her feet. She picked it up, careful not to damage its delicate fibers. Without so much as a second glance, the Falcon Knight declared, "It's Owar."

Right on cue, the smog-filled sky seemed to open up over the four, revealing a majestic, yet slightly singed, white pegasus. The winged horse landed gracefully on the street in a cloud of dust and ash, and her Knight wasted no time in rushing over to her and throwing her hands around her long, maned neck.

"Owar…" Chast whispered, tightening her grip on Owar's neck, "Oh, thank the gods that you're okay… But how did you—"

"Get out of the stables? With a little help from me, of course!"

The ground itself trembled as a massive wyvern fell from the clouds of smoke and crashed into the ground, sending small fragments of stone flying in every direction. The dragon let out a deafening bellow, rearing up on his two sturdy legs before craning its neck downwards and allowing his three passengers to dismount.

The first off the beast was a gray armored, bespectacled man that Marius wasn't able to recognize. But the Dread Fighter could remember the azure armor and black fighter robes of the other two men anywhere.

The three men dismounted from the wyvern's back, their breathing rate quickly increased as they adjusted to the smoke-filled streets of the city below.

"Gods, it's hotter than the center of Demon's Ingle down here!" he said, a jubilant smile upon his face. But as he met the gaze of his three friends and their slightly-confused blacksmith associate, his face instantly hardened.

"Hey, you three alright?" he asked, "Don't look at me that way."

Valkus took a cautious step forward, still clutching her lance close to her chest with both hands. Before long, she started to tremble, and eventually dropped the lance to the street below. She ran forward, tightly embracing her returning friend. Needless to say, Matt was perplexed about Valkus' notably uncharacteristic change of attitude.

"W-whoa, what's all this about, Valk?"

"You're not ever leaving m-my side again without telling me first, you hear?" she stuttered, pausing for a moment to take in a shaky breath, "Otherwise I'll hit y-you over the headso hard that—"

"Calm down, Valkus," the wyvern-rider spoke reassuringly, accepting the general's embrace, "I'm okay. Did you really think that a few religious extremists would be able to take me on? Not a chance."

The general clung to her friend, weeping softly as she tightened her grip. Matt held her close, gently caressing her smooth, yet slightly singed, black hair. As the two embraced, none spoke a word. The roaring of fire in the background was the only sound to be heard.

All the while, Marius gently held Chast's shoulder as she stood in solemnity. But he was no fool. Marius could see the reflection of the surrounding flames beneath her similarly-colored eyes, just as he was certain Chast saw the same in him. The Falcon Knight even shot him a teary, yet clearly angered glance before turning away.

It was remarkable how distant their previous disagreement was. Aside from Chast's one hateful glance, all the problems they had argued over seemed to have vanished in an instant. But at the same time, Marius felt it to be unnatural that Matt's arrival solved their problem so quickly.

Just what the hell was his problem? What was wrong with everyone else?

The two broke off eventually, Valkus much more calm and Matt far more serious than he was upon his arrival.

"Better?" Matt asked, a tinge of empathy in his words.

Valkus gave a small nod, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. However, she opted to remain quiet.

"We'll talk more once we get out of this mess. But have I a hell of a tale to tell."

– – –

"So you're Bell?"

Marius listened into the group's conversation as he faced away, casting Wind spell after Wind spell to keep the smoke at bay. He wasn't sure who asked the question, but he didn't mind much given the gravity of the situation. The group had since moved themselves into the alleyway that Marius had fought the lance-wielding Daughter in. Surprisingly, no one besides Dom showed any amount of disgust about the slightly burned cultist lying dead in the faraway corner.

While Marius worked, his mind drifted back to the dispute between Chast, Valkus, and him only minutes ago. He found himself disgusted that the three of them were so inept as functioning as a team without Matt's help, and how quickly their leader was able to diffuse the situation just with his presence. All those hateful things the three of them had said to each other churned in his stomach like a poorly-digested meal.

And Matt's arrival made it all seem like it never happened.

The Dread Fighter sighed and pushed those thoughts aside. There would be time to rebuild that burnt bridge later. He tuned back into the conversation, noting a slight pause in the gray-armored newcomer's speech, indicative of a nod.

"That's right," the bespectacled fighter confirmed, "At least, that's what I'd like you to call me."

Matt must have noticed some confusion in the group, as he broke in before anyone could question the fighter's word choice. "Bell and I talked on the flight over here. He'll be staying with us for awhile."

"Staying?" Again, the voice could have been Valkus or Chast's, interchangeably. The inferno drowned out any distinctions in their voices besides femininity.

Another small bout of silence. Bell most likely nodded.

"That's right. I've got no place to go, and your friend Matt decided to take me in. Hell of a guy, him."

All the while, Marius judged the path that the plumes of smoke took to the sky, and determined that it would be safe for him to return to the group. Making sure that his spellbook was safely put away and his sword was in its sheath, the dark-armored fighter stepped towards his companions. As he walked, Marius noticed that Chast and Valkus were seated quite far away from each other, refusing to look the other in the eye.

"Tch…" he muttered under his breath, "Those two…"

Marius took a seat on the ground next to Dom, careful to position himself so he would obstruct that blacksmith's view of the fallen Daughter's body. And thanks to Marius' new position, he was able to see Bell turn to face Matt, who he was seated next to.

"But from what you told your friend Hunter and I on the way over, there's more important things to tell." From the grave expression on the man's face, Marius knew whatever they had spoken of couldn't have been anything good. Matt's expression as he scratched the back of his head and Hunter's more-serious-than-usual face all but confirmed it.

"Right…" Matt trailed off, hesitation obvious in his inflection. He was quiet for a moment, but it wasn't long until he was urged on by the expectant stares from his fellow brigadiers. He continued, "I guess I'll start in order of importance. Remember that 'protector entity' that Chris asked us to find?"

Marius and the two women nodded. However, it was obvious that Dom found everything hard to digest without context.

"Does anyone want to tell me what's going on?" he demanded, an odd venture from his solemnity from earlier. His newfound curiosity was only met with a bone-breaking elbow from Valkus, seated on the other side of him. He gasped in shock and pain, falling in a heap onto a surprised Marius, who quickly shoved him onto the ash covered floor.

"Gah! What the hell was that for?"

Valkus leaned over him, her characteristic fire and no-nonsense attitude once again present in her eyes.

"Listen a little bit and you might learn something, dolt."

"Dolt?"

But as Matt so often did with the rest of the Justice Brigade, he managed to step in between Valkus and Dom's brewing dispute before it fell out of hand.

"The beginning would be as good a place to start as any, huh?" Matt said, immediately defusing the impending argument, "Let's start with what I've been up to this morning."

Once again, Marius found himself admiring how quickly Matt was able to draw attention to himself while keeping peace between forces at odds. Everyone sat, ready to listen.

They were a team again. How cohesively they would work together was yet to be seen, though.

Sensing that all eyes were upon him, Matt continued, "I left earlier this morning to track down the goal that Chris asked us to find in his letter. You remember what it was, right?"

The wyvern-rider turned to Valkus who was quick to nod in affirmation.

"Abnorun is missing their protector entity."

"That's right. Well, turns out that the manakete was never far from Abnorun to begin with. He's still in the city walls, as a matter of fact."

Looking around, Marius noted that everyone else was just as confused as he was, discounting Dom. Actually, Dom just seemed to be afflicted with stunned surprise rather than confusion.

"You found Jae?" the blacksmith asked, straightening up from a slumped-over sitting position, "It's been ages, I'll tell ya! Where is he?"

"Not far from here, actually," Matt responded, "I managed to catch a gold-armored knight with a teal cape go through a hidden doorway in some alleyway just as the sun came up. He came and left several times over the next few hours, and I decided to follow him in later in the morning."

From his position across from Dom, Marius was able to see something akin to recognition flash across Valkus' eyes. She then turned to Chast, who seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

"Didn't we see someone like that earlier today, Chast?"

The Falcon Knight simply hummed an affirmation and nodded, barely giving the general a glance.

"You saw him?" Matt asked, a hint of perplexion tinging his voice, "I was watching that spot all morning. How did I miss you?"

"Well, Chast was in plainclothes and and we didn't linger for too long. Perhaps you looked away at just the right moment?"

"That'd be pretty strange, but I don't think it matters too much," Matt pondered as he absentmindedly stroked his chin, "Because the part that really matters was after I followed the knight in. There's a door hidden in one of the walls, just out of sight. That's where they've been keeping the manakete."

"What are the odds that he's still there?" Marius asked, shifting slightly forwards, "Once the fires broke out, don't you think that they'd want to move him?"

"I thought that too," Matt replied, "But we at least have to look before we get out of here. We've come too far to back down now."

Upon hearing Matt's words, Marius swore that he saw Chast crack a smile, if only a small one. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished back beneath the irritated expression that she'd adopted after their argument.

But Chast would remain silent no longer, as she voiced the question that Marius had no doubt he and Valkus were also thinking, "Do you… do you know if everyone else is safe? Nila, Christopher… and the queen?"

Matt was quiet for a moment, but it wasn't long before he patted Hunter on the back, as if to urge him to depart from his strong, silent personality, if for a moment.

"Hunter can tell you about that. He was there."

The swordmaster's apathetic, slightly disinterested look did not falter even as all eyes rested upon him. He gazed around from person to person for a moment, taking in everyone's expression. Hunter eventually sighed, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I was at the palace not long ago," he recalled, "Right before the building went down."

Marius' heart dropped. He had just seen the palace earlier in the morning! There was no doubt that the fires were devastating, but for a catastrophe of that magnitude to have happened so quickly… It just didn't seem right.

And naturally, his voice reflected his thoughts as he stammered, "W-what? You mean the palace… has been destroyed?"

Hunter's expression, as unemotional as ever, offered only a simple nod.

"Unfortunately so. It fell after a few ballista shots."

"And now they have siege weapons?!" the Feroxian Dread Fighter exclaimed, baffled by all of the terrible surprises Hunter had laid bare in such a short time. Now would normally be the moment where Marius would respond with a trademark quip, and Matt would inspire everyone to keep pushing forward until the end.

But he couldn't find the strength. Of all the missions he had completed with the Brigade over the years, none of them had ever been as terrifyingly dangerous as this one.

"Where the hell could they be getting all that firepower from?" This time, it was Valkus who spoke up with a question. Marius was initially surprised, since he assumed she had been silently feuding with Chast. But even the stubborn Falcon Knight was engaged in the conversation, and was just as appalled as any other.

"I don't know," the swordmaster said with a shrug, "But they have pitch throwers and ballistae. Matt and I saw them after he found me in one of the streets."

"And that isn't all," Matt cut in, urgency in his voice, "Apparently Nila was still inside. Chris went in after him, but the entire thing came down only a few minutes after. I feel terrible saying this, but…"

The big wyvern master let out a heavy sigh, visibly deflating as he exhaled. Marius knew what was coming, but it still hurt. They had just met him a few days ago… and Chris the night before.

"They're probably both dead. And the queen might be sharing their grave too. So here's my plan: we find Jae, and we get out. We need to tell someone about what happened here. Plegia needs to kn—"

"I can't believe this. You too?"

Chast had finally broken her bout of silence, and had quickly taken a standing position. She was visibly trembling, too. Her anger must have pushed her over the edge.

"You're telling me that Hunter was there the whole time, and he did absolutely nothing? What the hell were you thinking?!"

Hunter ascended from his sitting position, and looked the young Falcon Knight square in the eye, glaring daggers. But even as the usually-collected swordfighter met her gaze, she refused to back down.

"Don't start with me, little girl…" Hunter warned, taking slow, intimidating steps towards Chast. The Falcon Knight still refused to budge, but instead turned her attention away from the swordmaster and to the five others present.

"I expected this from all of you," she said, voice cracking slightly as she spoke, "but Matt and Hunter? You two should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Hunter backed off a little, his scowl yet remaining etched into his face. But the person Marius found himself enthralled with was Matt. He showed absolutely no signs of hostility to the enraged Chast. In fact, he seemed… disappointed. It was an expression that Marius never quite recalled their leader using before. He was always good-natured—affable, even—in even the most dire of circumstances. But not this time.

Matt refused to speak, which only served to fuel Chast's rage even further.

"Forget this," she spat, throwing her hands up and turning away from the group, "I'm not wasting my time. I'm going to find them on my own."

She then turned to Owar, who was resting towards the front of the alleyway alongside Matt's wyvern. As she stomped towards the pegasus, Chast skewered an empty wooden crate with her lance, sending splinters to the ground below.

The Falcon Knight wasted no time in mounting Owar, giving her a sharp kick to the side to spring her into action.

"Owar, let's go."

And without another word or even a sideways glance, Chast disappeared into the smokebound streets of the ablaze Abnorun.

Not one person had anything to say about what just occured. But Marius found himself staring regretfully towards the mouth of the alley where Chast had disappeared into. He felt like he could have done something to stop her, to convince her to not storm off in rage.

But it was too late for that now. Marius had no choice but to go after the wayward Falcon Knight.

"Damn it, Chast…" he muttered, "You're going to get yourself killed…"

Owar's hooves clopped on the hard, stone roads of Abnorun as Chast accompanied her Falcon through the burning city. Her seething frustration caused the whites of her eyes were nearly as red as her verdantly scarlet irises and her knuckles to be whiter than the rest of her pale skin as she gripped the leather reins guiding her pegasus.

Chast was beyond furious. How dare they leave Nila, Christopher, and even the damn queen behind just because the situation was too dangerous for them? Why couldn't they brave the perils of their environment, while still saving innocents and punishing the wicked?

Wasn't that what they were all about? What was with this sudden change of pace?

But it was inconsequential to her. Chast would fix everything. She'd pull Nila kicking and screaming out of the dust of the palace if she had to. She would save them all.

She had to.

But as she rode ever further in the direction she believed the ruins of the palace were, the smoke became thicker and thicker. The air itself rose up to choke and strangle her. Yet, she persevered. She would stay the course. It was her duty.

She had to.

But eventually Owar had enough of the smoke billowing out of the destroyed windows and even the ground itself, since the beast stopped dead in her tracks to catch her breath.

And now her Falcon was betraying her? She wouldn't have any of that.

"Owar. Owar!" Chast scolded, giving the pegasus a swift kick to the side, "Keep… going… please…"

Now Chast's own voice was betraying her. She coughed hoarsely as she struggled to breathe in the choking smoke enveloping her.

She had to keep going. She had to.

Using her massive, yet slightly charred wings, Owar whipped up a windstorm, clearing the air for her and her master to catch their breath. Chast gasped, drinking in the clear air like water from a small spring of water in the middle of a desert.

"T-thank you…"

Chast patted her pegasus on the mane, only to have her gesture returned with a frustrated huff. She sighed, reclaiming Owar's reins. But just as she was about to whip her Falcon into action, something moved in the corner of her eye. The Falcon Knight turned to face the direction the movement had come from, lance at the ready.

"Who's there?" she called, only to be returned with no answer. She tried again, this time firmer, only to be met with the same response.

Chast waited for a moment, but whatever had moved earlier either went into hiding or burned in the flames. But that wasn't about to stop her from investigating. If it was another Son of Naga, they would pay for what they did to Abnorun.

The Falcon Knight dismounted Owar, leading her along by the reins. The movement happened right out of the corner of her left eye, which could have led the source into any of the buildings lining the road. Most of them were set ablaze, but there remained one small, unassuming mercantile building nestled in between two much taller buildings that had yet to be consumed by encroaching fire. If someone was moving through the smoke, they would have taken refuge in there.

– – –

The door had proven to be surprisingly locked, but a few sharp blows to its center was more than enough to knock it off its hinges. Chast stepped through the exposed entrance and into the dust-filled, gloomy room in front of her.

The darkness did not stay for long, since her lance's ambient glow seemed to intensify slightly as she entered the darkened room. The effect ultimately proved less helpful than Chast had anticipated, but the soft light worked wonders in reassuring her.

But before the Falcon Knight even had a chance to look around, she heard a floorboard creak off to her left. She turned, seeing a shadow briefly move through the darkness before disappearing into the abyss around her. There was no question that whoever was in the room with Chast was the same person who she had seen earlier.

And now she could get revenge for all those dead in the name of the Sons.

Chast's steps were confident as she strode toward the far left corner of the room, the only feasible place for the shadow to have gone. With the dim light of her lance as a guide, she soon found herself face to face with the origin of the shadow.

But the person staring back at her was not the person she had expected in the slightest. Chast found herself face to face with a man of obvious Plegian descent, dressed in a red overcoat with a fancy white shirt underneath. A red cavalier hat sat upon his head, alongside the scorched remains of an accompanying feather, while a thin mustache rested under his nose.

But the most surprising detail about the man was that he was hardly as malicious as Chast had expected. In fact, he seemed absolutely terrified.

"L-look, ma'am Daughter," the thinly-mustachioed Plegian man quavered, "I don't know what it is ya want, but I can assure you that I don't got it. So why don'tcha please step back through that door and we can both go our separate ways."

The man used his Cinquedea-styled blade to gesture towards the demolished door, his hand shaking all the while. It was evident that the man was scared, but Chast soon realized that it wasn't because he had a lance at his throat.

He was scared because she looked just like the enemy.

Chast quickly withdrew her lance, holding it at her side with the base placed on the ground.

"I'm not a Daughter," she corrected, "I'm a mercenary."

"Y-yer not?" The man seemed like a huge weight had risen off his shoulders. His fear quickly turned to that of oddly-charming complacency that took the Falcon Knight off guard.

"Cripes, that's a relief! Butcha should really do something 'bout that look ya got goin' on. Scared me half to death."

"I'll arm myself however I please," Chast responded dryly. To which, the Plegian man gave a soft chuckle.

"Eh, fair's fair. I wouldn't have it any other way myself, honestly."

"Is he talking about me?" Chast thought to herself, "No, that isn't right. No one would openly flirt while a city burned around them…"

The Falcon Knight quickly pushed the thought from her mind, moving onto a more serious line of questioning.

"What exactly are you doing here? I thought all the citizens had escaped, or…"

Chast trailed off, but the red-garbed Plegian man seemed to have gotten the message regardless. He tossed his knife into the air, catching the hilt with the blade pointing down, tucking it back into his side sheath before he responded.

"Tryin' to make myself scarce," he said as if such a concept was obvious, "Whatsit look like?"

"To me it looks like you have a deathwish."

Chast's dry speech yielded another chuckle from the Plegian.

"No, no, no, nothin' of the sort! I'm just real invested in this town. Yeah. Gotta lot of money stowed away in here and I'm sure as hell not lettin' it go to waste!"

Money. A near-defenseless citizen of Abnorun practically threw himself into a wildfire all because of a couple of coins. Well, that made it a pretty cut-and-dry procedure to judge this man's character.

But while it seemed that the red-clad man was afflicted with an insurmountable greed, something seemed… oddly off mark. He also seemed shifty. His eyes darted from place to place in the room as he spoke, like he was sizing Chast up. But whether the man was looking at her or a place to stab her was beyond Chast's reasoning.

But maybe she could put that knife hand to good use.

"Will you help us fight?" Chast asked, hopeful for a more positive turn of character. But, just like the Ylissean hoped he wouldn't do, the Plegian man's face soured.

"Whaddo I look like, a swashbuckler?" the man retorted, "Notta chance! I'm more of a cut-and-run kinda guy. Get in, grab the goods, get out. No slicey-dicey unless absolutely necessary, y'know?"

No. No, Chast didn't know. But what the man said got a small ball rolling in her mind. Grabbing goods and getting out were the character qualities of none other than low-life thieves.

Just what kind of scum was Chast talking to? Whoever he was, she intended to find out.

"Sounds like you're fond of pinching goods," she returned, the tone of her voice quickly shifting to a much firmer one, "I don't cooperate well with thieves."

The Ylissean took her lance in both hands, pointing it straight at the thief's stomach. His shaking hands instantly flew to his belt, unsheathing his dagger. He held the weapon defensively in both hands, his face contorted in fear.

"Y-yeah, okay, I admit it," the Plegian stammered, "I'm not exactly the most lawful of people. I steal things, I rip off merchants, and I love money more than anything else in the world besides my life. But please… put the lance down. I'm beggin' ya."

Whatever shreds of remorse the thief managed to use as a barrier ultimately proved useless against Chast. Seeing a criminal right in front of her just filled her with a justice-fueled rage that boiled inside her. Only when this outlaw's guts were spilled on the floor in front of her would she be satisfied.

"You just crossed paths with the wrong person, demon…"

The Falcon Knight drew back her lance, preparing to let the four-pronged weapon skewer the thief in front of her. She exhaled for a moment, preparing for an easy strike. She then let her lance fly, shutting her eyes to prepare for the inevitable impact.

Clang.

…That wasn't the right sound. And there was no doubt in Chast's mind that the thief's small, insignificant dagger would have had the ability to parry her strike. Then who…?

Opening her eyes, Chast discovered no one other than Marius standing in between the red-clad thief and Chast's wickedly sharp lance. His soothing sword had managed to fit in between the gaps separating each of the blessed lance's four points right before it connected with the thief's stomach. And judging from his expression, the thief was just as surprised that Marius was defending his life as Chast was.

But surprise soon turned to anger. Chast struggled against Marius' blade, putting all her power behind her lance, desperate to see it tear through the Plegian thief's skin. But Marius proved stronger, as he was able to push Chast back far enough to stand in between the thief and herself.

"First, you're a coward," the Falcon Knight said, struggling to force the Dread Fighter out of her way, "and now you're defending the life of a criminal? What the hell has gotten into you?!"

"I should be asking the same question!" he spat, disarming the Ylissean with one quick twist of his blade, "Do you even realize what you're doing?"

Chast stood speechless as her lance was wrought from her hands and sent to the floor. It clattered against the wooden ground before sliding far out of her reach and under an end table placed at the base of a bookshelf.

And to top it off, she was now being held at swordpoint by one of the few people she thought she could trust.

"Don't you see that this man is terrified?" the Feroxian asserted, pointing a finger at the thief quivering against the wall behind him, "He has done nothing to fight back against you! And yet you took it upon yourself to judge that this man's life deserved to end! What right do you have?"

Why couldn't he see it? He was protecting the life of someone who benefited from the misfortune of others! The very same type of person that he swore would see justice!

Why was everyone turning against her?

"I have every right!" Chast retorted, desperation cracking her voice, "Justice is our job, Marius! It's why we live! He is a thief and he deserves to answer for it!"

"That might be so, but you're forgetting who the real enemy is right now. The ones who deserve to answer for their crimes are the ones committing genocide right outside this door!"

Marius then averted his gaze, bracing himself for what he was about to say. Chast had seen this before, just before he used Owar to convince her to turn tail and run from Abnorun with Valkus. Whatever he had to say, it couldn't be anything good.

"This? This is not justice! Not anywhere close! This is murder!"

Murder.

The word reserved for killers. The lowest of society. The ones Chast swore to see dead by the masses.

Not her. That word would never be used to describe her.

"Y-you…" she trailed off, the shock of being described as a murderer still messing with her head. It took Chast a moment to find her voice, but as soon as she did, rage boiled once again from inside her.

"You take that back this instant!"

The Ylissean desperately wanted to make Marius understand how she truly felt, but she couldn't find the strength. No matter how frustrated Chast was with him, some part of her still considered him a friend. No matter how badly she wanted to make him regret ever opening his mouth, some part of her didn't want to see him hurt.

It was a part of herself that Chast hated.

But Marius stood resolute despite Chast's rage and tears.

"I standing by my words, Chast," he said firmly, yet with a hint of gentleness. The Dread Fighter then lowered his sword, extending a hand to the rage-filled Falcon Knight.

"Now why don't you leave this man be and we'll go fight the real enemy together. As a team."

Chast found herself not looking at the hand outstretched to her, but rather at the wall behind Marius. She was baffled to admit it, but somehow the thief they had been arguing over had slipped away during their disagreement. Not a trace of the shifty man remained.

But Chast wasn't about to waste time pointing that out to Marius. She slapped the Feroxian's hand away, turning from her former friend and crossing her arms.

Yet somehow, the weakness in her managed to win yet again. Part of her found herself agreeing with Marius' words. And she hated it.

"…Fine," she muttered, relieved to hear that the strength of her willpower was still guiding her voice, "But don't assume that we're 'best of friends' after what the lot of you pulled today."

– – –

The smoke veiling Abnorun seemed to only get thicker as Chast rode alongside Marius to the place he had said the others were waiting. Fortunately, the flapping of Owar's wings managed to make the air around the two relatively breathable.

Every fiber of the Falcon Knight's being knew that she should be trying to search for Nila and the others, but the one weak aspect of her personality had managed to lull her into agreeing with Marius. For now, her goal was to find and rescue the Abnorun protector entity, slaying anyone who would stand in her way. Finding their new tactician would have to wait until she had a chance to get away from the others.

It wasn't long after they had left to rejoin the others that Chast heard the sounds of combat. The fire she was all-too familiar with welled up in the pit of her stomach. She was ready for whatever the Sons tried to throw at her.

Chast flew ahead of Marius, through a cloud of thick smoke billowing from the broken windows of two merchant buildings. As she passed the barrier, the Falcon Knight was greeted with a densely-packed, all-out brawl.

The sea-green cloaks of the Sons and Daughters fighting were unmistakable, as were the memorable sets of equipment worn by her allies. In the center of the carnage she spotted Matt, whose steel axe was struggling to fend off two sword-wielding Sons since his wyvern was grounded. Not far away from the wyvern rider was Valkus, the sheen of her armor nearly disguising her amongst the flames. And Chast was sure that the others were in the fray as well, but it was too densely-packed to determine much of anything.

Observations would have to wait. There were criminals to apprehend.

Chast flew into the fray and towards one of the two sword-wielding Sons pinning Matt down. She caught the one straying the furthest to the side off guard, running the cultist through with her lance as Owar flew by. The Son seized up as the lance tore through his flesh, but the life faded away from his body even before he hit the ground. Matt shot Chast a look of gratitude before bowling into the other Son.

The Falcon Knight glanced around, eventually selecting another target giving the gray-armored newcomer—Bell, Chast recalled his name being—a large amount of trouble. In no time at all, Bell and Chast had paired up to deal with the cultist.

The Daughter was no slouch, managing to dodge Bell's double-handed assault and Chast's lance even without the aid of a physical weapon. The cultist eventually managed to create enough space between the two to open her spellbook and channel a Fire spell at Bell.

The fireball tore through the air, but the axeman managed to deflect the majority of the blow with his axes. The spell did still manage to burn him slightly, ultimately removing Bell from the battle momentarily, giving the mage Daughter a little more to breathe.

The cultist wasted no time in capitalizing on her enemies' slip-up. After dodging Chast's lance with ease, she managed to find enough time channel an Elwind spell. The green blades of wind sliced the air, connecting with Chast square in the chest. The force of the blow was more than enough to force her off of Owar's saddle and to the ground below.

Even as she crashed arm-first into the ground below, Chast was thankful that the Daughter had only managed to hit her. If Owar had absorbed the blow, there was no doubt she would have been crushed by the pegasus' weight, either crippling her or killing her.

It wasn't long after the Falcon Knight had taken her tumble that she had managed to pull herself to her feet, lance held in both hands. But she was immediately forced to dodge to the side as another Fire spell whizzed past her head.

But the pressure the Daughter was putting on Chast was ultimately the cultist's downfall. In her obsession of finishing off the vulnerable Falcon Knight, she failed to account that Bell would have recovered from the Fire spell he had deflected. And she wouldn't have a chance to think about it, either, as one of the axeman's two hand axes found its way directly into her skull.

The cultist fell to the road below, body limp and mind long-gone. Bell ran to her body, retrieving his weapon from the Daughter's skull. He then turned to Chast, who had since remounted Owar, and nodded before dashing into the fray behind the two.

It wasn't long after that Chast found herself searching for a new target. The others—including Marius, who had managed to catch up and was dealing with another mage Son with his own spellbook—seemed to be handling their respective adversaries relatively well.

Were there any other Sons hanging on the outskirts of battle? Chast scanned the edges of the fray as she downed the last few drops of a vulnerary she had kept in Owar's saddlebag, which quickly took effect on her damaged arm and chest. Fortunately, the wounds were minor enough that the vulnerary managed to cure them in their entireties.

But just as Chast was returning the bottle to her pegasus' saddlebag, she saw a glint of light duck behind a corner of a side street just on the edge of the field of combat. It looked less like the glow of the numerous fires consuming the buildings around her than how Valkus' armor glinted when the light of flames shone off of it.

It had to be an armored human. There was no doubt about that. And Chast wasn't about to let any of the Sons get away and escape justice.

Chast and Owar flew forward to the source of the glinting of light that the Falcon Knight had seen. But when the two arrived, there was nothing present that would cause such a thing to happen. All she could see were the flames consuming the street around her, and an oddly-familiar side street that Chast had seen so many of across Abnorun.

But as she gazed around, a sense of dèjá vu washed over her. She had been in this place before. The dark, gaping mouth of the side street, the blacksmith's sign that had since been set alight, the damaged wrought-iron door, and the layout of the street could have only belonged to one place in all of Abnorun.

This was the place Chast had visited just before she and Valkus had gone to the blacksmith earlier in the day. And to think how much of it had changed in only a single afternoon was downright baffling.

But it was then that Chast remembered the conversation she had listened to in the other alleyway before she had stormed off on her own.

"Not far from here, actually," Matt had said earlier, "I managed to catch a gold-armored knight with a teal cape go through a hidden doorway in some alleyway just as the sun came up…"

This was it. The same place the familiar, gold-clad man had disappeared to earlier in the morning. And Chast was determined to figure out who he was and what he was up to.

She guided Owar into the alley, scanning the walls as the pegasus slowly plodded through the darkened side street. Even after looking around thoroughly, she was met only with the same scene that she had seen earlier in the day: high, smooth stone walls, a couple piles of crates and barrels, a boarded up segment of wall…

Wait. The wall! Chast immediately dismounted from Owar, approaching the oddly-placed wooden boards carefully. She ran her gloved hand across its surface, trying to determine how exactly the golden-armored man could have gotten through it so quickly while leaving no trace of himself. It seemed impossible, but there had to be a way!

Chast tugged at the boards, and she immediately learned how the bulky, armored man had managed to be so elusive earlier in the day. The wooden boards were only a facade attached to a heavy, upward-swinging steel door. The Falcon Knight barely had to exert herself to lift the door open.

But before she entered the belly of the beast, she gently shut the steel door and turned to Owar, who was waiting patiently behind her.

"Owar," she called, "I need you to fly up above the smoke and stay hidden. Don't come back down until I call for you again."

The pegasus and her rider seemed to reach a mutual understanding. The beast actually seemed to move her head akin to nodding before quickly taking to the air, cutting through the smoke above her.

Chast breathed deeply, lifting the facade-door up once again. This was it. Whoever was responsible for all this madness had to be behind this door. And she would make sure whoever it was, they would have hell to pay.

– – –

The room behind the door was surprisingly well-lit for how vast it was. Lanterns lined the walls, and some were even placed atop dusty stacks of crates that had been piled in straight lines across the floor. Judging from the sheer volume of the crates, Chast had found herself in a warehouse of some kind.

The Falcon Knight raised her lance defensively, taking cautious steps as she traversed the interior of the building. The high ceiling showed little sign of succumbing to flame, which would give Chast at least a little time to confront the mysterious golden-armored man.

Chast rounded a corner of boxes, lance pointed in front of her in case of ambush. No one. She then ducked behind the boxes on the edge of the pile, gazing out across the expansive floor. Still no one. Whoever this person was, he was quite adept at staying hidden.

Figuring that the path was safe, the Falcon Knight quickly crossed the gap between two piles of crates, her eyes trained forward as she moved. But just before she cleared the gap, something caught her eye. Once she was safe behind the other pile, she poked her head out in search of what she had seen earlier.

Chast wasn't quite sure, but she saw what looked like a pair of chains crudely attached to the segment of wall just beyond the piles of boxes, and what looked to be hands clasped to their very bottoms.

That had to be the protector manakete. There was no mistaking it.

Quickly but carefully, Chast moved from crate pile to crate pile, making sure she was out of sight as she approached the links of chain. Once she reached the final set of boxes just before the clear segment of floor, she ducked behind the piles of crates to prepare herself. She gripped her lance tightly in case the golden-armored man was around, breathed in deeply, and jumped from behind the boxes.

What she saw on the other side of the crates was not the mysterious, armored man. Far from it. Attached to the chains was a green-haired, pointy-eared young boy, who didn't look a day over fifteen. His otherwise fair skin was bruised and bloody, and the remnants of his clothing were torn where blades must have cut through them. His red, midriff-bearing vest was nearly torn in two, while his black waist-cape belt and white cloth pants were no more than tatters. If he had boots before, they were nowhere to be seen.

But despite the damage he had taken, he was definitely alive. His breaths were ragged and labored, and his bloodshot green eyes were wide open with a disturbing mixture of fear and pain. But the boy being alive was the most important thing.

Chast immediately rushed to the chained boy, driving her lance through the segments of chain. One by one they snapped, dropping the child to the ground. Chast managed to catch him before he crashed to the floor, and propped his back up against the wall behind him.

"It's alright," Chast assured him, "I've got you now. You're safe. I'm going to get you out of here."

But the boy experienced no feelings of elation or joy. In fact, his eyes remained trained in the same direction they were when he was hanging from the wall.

His ragged breaths calmed down briefly, and he swallowed deeply. Afterwards, two words—barely a whisper—escaped his mouth.

"Behind… you…"

The Ylissean Falcon Knight immediately retrieved her lance from where it had fallen, turning to face whatever threat may have found the chance to sneak up on her. While the boy had been correct about someone being behind her, the person in question was quite far away, taking his time as he sauntered over to the two.

The gilded armor and the teal cape immediately gave away his identity. The mysterious, golden-armored man that both Chast and Matt had seen earlier in the day was right in front of her. As he slowly walked from the other side of the room, the Ylissean found herself studying the man. The brown, messy hair atop his head seemed… familiar. Chast couldn't place it, but she had definitely seen him before. Somewhere other than Abnorun.

The knight eventually stopped a few meters away from Chast, placing the base of his four-pronged golden lance into the ground.

"Well, well," he spoke with an eerily familiar voice, "I see you've saved the Abnorun manakete. Congratulations."

"You… who are you?" Chast asked, a warning tone in her voice. But the knight simply brushed off her attempt at aggression, laughing all the while.

"You mean you don't remember me? A pity, really. I was hoping for something of an exciting reunion today. Alas, I suppose such an event will forever remain in my mind, never to grace reality."

That voice… that manner of speaking… There was no mistaking it.

"…Morris?"

"Ah, there it is!" As Morris spoke, he somehow managed to keep a balance between seriousness and sarcasm, a way of speaking Chast had never seen outside of his voice. "The noble Chastity never forgets a face, am I wrong?"

"Don't call me that. You know better than anyone that I hate that name."

Her words produced another laugh from the heavily-built man.

"Ah, yes! That's right," he mocked, "Always Chast, never Chastity. Oh, how the years addle the mind."

"Save your breath!" the Falcon Knight shouted, "I want to know what exactly you're doing here. Now!"

"You're delusional if you think you have any power over me. But isn't what I'm doing here obvious?"

Morris took several steps over towards Chast, stroking her chin as he passed by. She slapped his hand away before shoving him away from the bloodied young boy, a red-eyed scowl etched into her face.

"I'm burning a city," Morris stated nonchalantly, "I'm capturing a manakete, I'm torturing a manakete, and I'm following my lord's will to assassinate the queen of this pathetic country. Any questions?"

"You're responsible for all of this?" the Falcon Knight balked, "But… why?"

"Because Plegians deserve to die. What have they done to us over the years? They've risen the Fell Dragon, murdered our exalt, and raided our homes. That is more than enough reason to me to see them exterminated."

"That was hundreds of years ago! Plegia has done nothing to Ylisse for years!"

"But that doesn't mean it never happened! I'm not one to forgive and forget. What Plegia didn't pay for when Grima fell, they will pay now. By the Sons of Naga's hand!"

But Morris didn't bother trying to strike Chast. He simply twirled his four-pronged lance around his fingers, eventually dragging it across the floor as he walked away from the Falcon Knight.

"This town and this building are both doomed to collapse," he said, walking away as slowly as he had approached earlier, "And I'm not going to stay around here to figure out when. Until we meet again, dear Chastity."

Chast had heard enough. Lance in hand, the Falcon Knight charged Morris, preparing to run him through and finally wipe his cocky smirk off his face. But the knight was prepared for this, quickly turning around to meet Chast's strike with a parry.

"Nice try," he jeered, "But I don't plan on dying today."

Without another word, Morris quickly stabbed forward with his lance, Chast barely dodging the blow. The Falcon Knight followed up with a strike of her own, but her lance was easily swatted to the side by the more-skilled Morris. It barely seemed as if he was trying, with how casually he was swinging his weapon around.

But the sound of cracking wood above the two temporarily halted their engagement. A broken board quickly crashed to the ground, flames smoldering across its well-eaten center. Looking up, Chast was horrified to discover that fire had finally enveloped the warehouse roof. It wouldn't be long before the whole thing would be consumed by flame.

"Enough foolishness," Morris uttered, slamming the tip of his lance into the floor below, "I'm ending this."

The gilded knight came at Chast once again, this time much faster than his lazy game of cat-and-mouse earlier. The Falcon Knight barely had enough time to think as she struggled to keep the tip of Morris' deadly lance at bay.

But the knight knew that he had the upper hand. He abruptly halted his blinding assault, surprising Chast with a kick square to the chest. The force of the impact sent her into a pile of flimsy crates, most of which shattered into pieces as she landed. Morris then thrusted his lance downward, aiming for the exposed part of Chast's breastplate that had been shattered open in her engagement earlier in the day. But Chast managed to catch Morris' lance between its gilded prongs with the shaft of her own lance, allowing her to kick the knight's hand, wresting it from his grasp.

Before Chast even had a chance to capitalize on her opponent's newfound weakness, he had drawn an intricate, white-metaled sword from a scabbard that she hadn't even known was there. The white-haired knight's thrust was cut off by the blade of Morris' newly-equipped sword, managing to keep Chast at bay even though he held the weapon disadvantage.

With the smaller weapon in his possession, Morris' strikes became faster than with his lance. But since his weapon had a size disadvantage, parrying the blade was relatively easier thanks to the additional time she had to react to each slice.

As their confrontation stormed on, the roof above the two was nearly a quarter of the way to being consumed in its entirety. Small embers fell from above, singing the wooden surfaces of the crates scattered around the expansive room. Fortunately, none of the boxes managed to be set entirely ablaze.

It wasn't long until Chast found herself backed into a corner, both physically and metaphorically. Morris' swift strikes and blows managed to push her back across the whole of the room and into the corner adjacent to the one that the manakete was being chained to. No longer would it matter that Chast held a range advantage. In a corner, there was nowhere to run.

Before Morris could take advantage of his position, the upwardly-opening door only a few meters away from her quickly flew open. The sudden movement had startled him enough to allow Chast to deliver a swift kick to his gut, pushing him back far enough for her to move out of the disadvantageous position and towards the entrance.

She had expected Matt to have been the one to thrust open the door, and swiftly deal with the knight at hand. Even Marius would have been better than the well-dressed man who stepped through the warehouse entrance.

Bow in hand, dagger and arrow quiver at his side, large sack of something affixed to his back, and fresh feather in his cavalier hat was none other than the thief she had tried to kill minutes earlier.

"Girlie," he shouted, "duck!"

Despite all her hatred and animosity towards the thief, Chast was hardly in a place to argue. She complied, and the twang of his bow was quickly followed by a scream of pain from Morris.

The thief swiftly took to Chast's side, bow at the ready.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she roared, to the surprise of the red-clad thief.

"Savin' yer skin, doll! Whatsit look like?"

He fired another arrow, which collided into the stone wall just behind Morris, who had pulled the arrow from his shoulder and was fast approaching.

"Look alive, he's comin' our way!"

Chast was forced to put aside her anger, directing as much of it as she could in taking down the threat in front of her. Morris approached with his sword, trying the same strategy against Chast that he had used before. But with the thief aiding her from atop a pile of boxes, it was Chast that now had the upper hand.

His struck once, aiming for the Falcon Knight's throat, but was blocked by the stalwart Falcon Knight before he could do any damage. He lifted his hand to try again, but was forced to dodge as the red thief fired another volley of arrows in his direction. None managed to strike him, but his dodging had backed him into the very same corner that Chast found herself in moments ago.

Morris raised his sword to block any strike Chast decided to throw out, but the thief managed to shoot the knight directly in the hand. He cried out in pain, dropping the white-bladed sword as blood started to trickle from his exposed hand.

This was her chance.

"This ends now!" Chast cried out, rearing her lance back. She then struck with all her might forward, tearing through Morris' mighty armor and running him through. The Falcon Knight withdrew her lance, which was now dripping with the blood of her former friend.

As soon as Chast removed the lance from Morris' gut, he gasped in both shock and pain. Not a moment later, he seized up, drawing a final shaky breath before falling limp.

Against all odds, Chast had come out on top. And she would make sure Morris would never rise again.

She twirled the lance around her fingers, facing the four-pronged blade directly at Morris' heart. But before she had a chance to strike, a loud cracking sound from above her directed her attention skyward.

As the battle raged on, the whole of the ceiling managed to become consumed by flame. A scaffold from above her had become loose from the rest of the roof, and was falling right towards her. A quick redirection of her lance was enough to swat the board from above her and into the wall to her right. The flaming wooden segment landed atop Morris' still body, the flames taking their time to envelop his skin. Perhaps his armor was fireproof?

The thief's voice quickly grounded her thoughts.

"Erm, girlie, I'd love ta stay and help ya make sure this bastard stays dead, but we'll be dead if we hang around here any longer. Let's get movin', yeah?"

"We can't leave just yet," Chast responded firmly, "There's a manakete in here."

"Manakete? Ya mean Jae?" The tone in the thief's voice revealed that he was at least familiar with the protector entity. Apparently, Dom wasn't the only one who recognized the name.

But the thief's face soon shifted from surprise to determination.

"Lead the way. I'm not steppin' outta here until Jae's safe."

Chast nodded, committing herself to at least a temporary alliance with the Plegian man. The two dashed through the piles of crates—most of which had since caught fire—towards the young manakete passed out on the floor in front of them. Fortunately, no embers managed to fall on him while Chast and Morris had battled.

The Ylissean took one look at the thief's wiry frame, and opted to carry Jae herself. She sheathed her lance on her back and scooped the young boy up in her hands. As soon as she did, however, Jae's eyes fluttered open.

"My… dragonstone…" he whispered, his voice most likely damaged from smoke inhalation, "In… the chest…"

Jae's eyes were affixed to a small, metal chest that rested not far away from where he was chained up earlier. Chast laid Jae on the ground again, quickly drawing her lance. She struck the box's lock over and over, but the sturdy metal device managed to hold fast.

"I… can't…" she coughed, trying to force the acrid smoke from her lungs, "It won't budge…"

She then turned to the red-clad thief, who was standing aside her with a look of disappointment upon his face.

"Lady," he chastised, "Yer doin' it wrong. Step aside and letta pro take over."

Chast offered little resistance, resheathing her lance and picking the now-unconscious Jae up in her arms. The thief kneeled down in front of the dented box, quickly getting to work. He retrieved a tension wrench and gaudy, gilded lockpick from his pockets, placing both devices in the sturdy steel lock. The Plegian dug into the box, only having to put a small amount of pressure on the lock before it snapped open.

The thief pulled the lock out, tossing it to the side as he threw the lid of the tiny, metal chest up to reveal a pulsating, green shard of stone and an intricate, gold-metaled headpiece. The red-clad thief gently took the items in his hands before placing them in the sack on his back.

The Plegian man turned to Chast, giving the Falcon Knight a nod.

"Let's get outta here before the whole thing comes crashin' down on us, 'kay?"

Chast returned with a nod of her own, barely noting the nonchalance in his voice. She tightly gripped the unconscious manakete in her arms, racing to the upwardly-opening door on the far end of the room. Pieces of wood rained down on the two like hail, each landing outside their escape path.

The Plegian thief was the first to reach the door, quickly throwing it open. He held the steel entrance open, allowing Chast and Jae to pass through the gate unharmed.

The Ylissean had hoped that the alleyway outside the warehouse would have been a refuge from the flames that had consumed the inside of the building, but she was horrified to see that the once-dark alleyway had caught fire while she had been gone. The walls smoldered, stone fragments clattering against the ground.

"Owar!" she called into the veil of smoke above, "I need your help!"

The pegasus was quick to respond, cutting through the thicker layer of smoke above the two. Owar landed in a flurry of dust and ash, shaking the singed-tips of her wings before rearing up on her hind legs.

Chast handed Jae off to the red-dressed thief before throwing her arms around the pegasus' neck.

"Oh, thank the gods you came back…" she said, speaking into Owar's white fur, "I thought something might've happened to you…"

Owar nuzzled her master's shoulder, letting out a content sigh. After a moment, Chast broke the embrace, gazing lovingly at her Falcon.

"We did it. We saved the manakete and killed the man responsible for everything that's happened here. We can go home now."

"Erm, lady? I think we got trouble."

Chast turned to the mouth of the shallow alleyway, and gasped as she found herself face to face with six shadowy figures, each brandishing weapons of different sizes. Chast quickly drew her own lance, ready to defend Owar from a final wave of Sons of Naga.

But to her relief, it was not a Son who stepped from the shadows. Rather, she was met with the familiar, friendly face of Matt, who was cautiously stepping through the thick layer of smoke with axe at the ready. Upon seeing the Falcon Knight, however, he immediately lowered his axe and his stiff gaze softened.

"Chast!" he shouted with joy, "You're alive!"

The tall, musclebound rider dropped his axe and embraced the thinner Falcon Knight in a tight hug. She was at first elated to see her friend again, but the terrible things he and Marius had said earlier quickly came rushing back. She pushed him away, donning a somewhat-sincere smile.

"Yeah, I'm alive," she murmured, "But I'm not the only one. I found the manakete."

Chast dropped her lance and plucked the unconscious Jae from the red-dressed thief's arms. Matt took a look at the wounded boy, wincing as he saw how grave the damage he had taken was. The wyvern rider then reclaimed his axe from the ground, sheathing it across his back before he took Jae in his own arms.

"We need to have him healed, and fast. Take Owar and fly to the northern exit. There are no siege weapons there, so it's the safest place we can go. The rest of us will meet you there."

And without another word, Matt stepped back into the smoke, disappearing alongside the other five members of the group.

Chast picked her lance up from the ground, returning it to its place on the side of Owar's saddle. She wasted no time in mounting her Falcon and taking the reins in her hands. But before she gave Owar the signal to fly, she saw the red-clad thief, who was still standing silently near the burning wall of the warehouse the two fought in together. In the pouch on his back, Chast saw the pulsating green glow of Jae's dragonstone.

"I won't force ya to take me if ya don't wanna," he said, retrieving the glowing shard of rock and the headpiece from his pouch and tossing them to Chast, who deftly caught the two items in both of her hands, "But I'd appreciate the offa. Really."

The Ylissean Falcon Knight looked the thief up and down. She was still disgusted with him, being exactly the kind of person that Chast had no qualms with killing. But the man had risked his life to save her from the warehouse, not even knowing her name. And it was evident that Chast wouldn't have walked away from her encounter with Morris if he hadn't shown up.

Chast sighed heavily. She would have to swallow her pride and her virtues for now.

"…Get on."

Roster

No.001 Nila

A resident of Plegia and descendent of one of the famous time travelers of Ylissean past, Morgan. Although weakly, he carries the same blood of Grima used to revive the fell dragon generations ago. He was a tactician for the Plegian Mercenaries in the past, who eventually dissolved under his leadership.

The most likely fall asleep while reading.

Born on December 20th, age 24.

Class: Tactician (Sword|Anima, Dark from Shadowgift)

No.002 Matthew

The leader of a group of fighters known as the Justice Brigade, who prefers the name Matt. He brought the group together after he and Hunter fled a devastated city in Western Ferox, one of the first Western settlements destroyed by the marauding nation. His confident personality is what the Justice Brigade's foundation stands upon, yet he harbors doubts of his own sometimes.

The one who slouches the most.

Born on January 2nd, age 21.

Class: Wyvern Lord (Axe|Lance)

No.003 Hunter

A Feroxian duelist with a deadly mastery of swordplay. He has lived in not one, but two villages that have been razed by magic-wielding bandits or conquesting Easterners. The loss of his sister invoked a keen sense of justice within him and a fear of magic and fire.

The least fond of parlor tricks.

Born on January 25th, age 22.

Class: Swordmaster (Sword)

No.004 Chastity

An Ylissean Falcon Knight—who prefers to go by Chast—with pale white skin and red eyes. Her albinism runs in the family, being shared with her father. She had high hopes of joining the Ylissean cavalry, yet was advised to pursue a separate line of work by her father. She instead took up work as a mercenary, and eventually met Matt after he saved her life.

The one with the scariest glare.

Born on October 29th, age 17.

Class: Falcon Knight (Lance|Staff)

No.005 Marius

A peculiar fighter hailing from Stormguard. Initially striving to be a scholar, Marius studied magic diligently throughout his childhood. However, he shifted priorities when bands of rogue dark mages attacked the settlement. With his interesting combination of swords, Anima, and throwing axes, he joined the enthusiastic Justice Brigade to put his skills to the test.

The one with the worst sense of humor.

Born on April 1st, age 20.

Class: Dread Fighter (Sword|Axe|Anima)

No.006 Valkus

A Valmese quartermaster who tolerates nonsense of no kind. After a false claim of fraudulence, Valkus chartered a ship to the Ylissean continent. She joined the Justice Brigade after falling to them in a battle to mete out justice for herself and others. How this beauty's personality meshes with the jovial brigade is a mystery.

The most likely to enjoy taking inventory.

Born on March 25th, age 28.

Class: General (Lance|Axe)

No.007 ?

…

No.008 Lester

A seasoned veteran and guardian of Ylissean royalty. Lester began his training for knighthood at the young age of seven. He failed to protect the lord he was sworn to from a powerful East Feroxian warlord. He formed the Ylissean Vanguard in an attempt right the mistakes that he brought upon the halidom.

The longest bather.

Born on May 15th, age 20.

Class: Paladin (Sword|Lance)

No.009 Desmond

One of the rare taguel who bounced back from the brink of extinction. Desmond is one of the few taguel who have refused to their cultural roots of warren life. He trained under a man who fought against the Gray Claw, a taguel purist society that threatened his home. He refuses to use his beaststone.

The one with the biggest rock collection.

Born on August 8th, age 19.

Class: Taguel Fighter (Axe|Beaststone)

No.010 Samuel

An Ylissean priest of minor nobility. His rigorous education led him to priesthood, where he trained in the Holy Church of Naga to heal his allies. After being denied entry to the Ylissean military, he was recruited by Lester to heal for the Ylissean Vanguard.

The best at insulting others.

Born on July 14th, age 21.

Class: Scholar (Staff|Anima)

No.011 Brooks

A mage of Ylissean background that has traveled the world across. With his traveling mage caravan, he saw the shores of Valm, the peaks of both Feroxes, the sands of Plegia, and the rolling hills of Ylisse. Longing to be greater than an entertainer, he left his caravan to create his own adventures.

The one with dirt on absolutely everyone.

Born on March 10th, age 25.

Class: Mage (Anima)

No.012 Esthara

An Ylissean tactician in training. She wields the legendary weapon Mercurius, one of the three regalia of old, given to her as a gift by her professor. Studying under the legendary tactician and professor Kairos, she aims to one day match the intellectual might of the most famous tacticians in history.

The lightest sleeper.

Born on November 19, age 19.

Class: Strategist (Sword)

No.013 Christopher

A masked prodigy dark mage who shortens his name to Chris. His skill comes from necessity, having lived his most of his life around bandits and thieves. He trained under a Plegian outlaw sorcerer, partaking in both assassinations and thefts. After being conned into murdering his parents, he took up his father's mask and fled to Abnorun, a Plegian border town. He shares a proficiency in shadow with Nila.

The giddiest laugher.

Born on October 4th, age 16.

Class: Dark Mage (Dark|Anima, Dark enhanced from Shadowgift)

No.014 Grace

A nimble and powerful Ylissean myrmidon. Her father and older sister served as fighters for the Plegian Mercenaries years ago, a fateful mission taking her father's life and causing her sister to vanish. At the age of only fifteen, she picked up the pieces of her shattered life and became a wanderer with her mother. Finding herself a mercenary after her mother's recent death, she will invoke any means necessary to stay on her feet.

The most sentimental.

Born on September 19, age 19.

Class: Myrmidon (Sword)

No.015 Iris

The royal hierophant of the Plegian Court. She and the Autumn Queen Meliora have been great friends for many years, alongside the parents of both Nila and Grace. Désirée, Nila's mother, worked alongside Iris to put Meliora in power twenty years ago. The six friends have shared many an adventure, but Iris is definitely hiding something…

The one with her eyes on the horizon.

Born on February 15, age 43.

Class: Hierophant (Dark|Anima|Staff|Rapier)

No.016 Bell

A Valmese fighter whose travels have landed him in Abnorun. Previously an orphan, he found himself running with the worst types of crowds. He traveled to Ylisse to escape his past, but much of his experiences are unknown. Even his real name is shrouded in mystery.

The most fiercely protective.

Born on September 30th, age 28.

Class: Fighter (Axe)

*New* No.017 Red-Clad Thief

Inadequate information for detailed analysis.

Class: Thief (Dagger|Bow)

*New* No.018 Jae

A half-manakete hailing from Plegia, as well as being the protector entity of Abnorun. Compared to most manaketes making their way in the world, Jae is remarkably young. His brother and two sisters often worry about him, but this soft-spoken half-manakete is more than capable of taking care of himself.

The most absentminded.

Born on June 9th, age 163

Class: Manakete (Dragonstone)

Guests

Meliora

The noble and pragmatic Autumn Queen of Plegia. Most of her past i