Lester nodded, a grave expression written across his face. His eyes stared with a passivity all too common of him.

“I… see. It is safe to assume that Ylisstol has fallen as well, I suppose?”

Esthara nodded, sharing the same expression as the paladin. She was undoubtedly scarred by the events that had taken place around her recently, and now she found herself lost in the middle of a tundra without the comforting gaze of her professor watching over her.

“Yes. That is what the professor said,” Esthara spoke, her voice merely a whisper against the raging winter storm.

“I understand. Kairos is a great man, and he has assisted myself and many others in times of need. I have no doubt that he is working as diligently as he can to restore Ylisse to order.”

Esthara’s interest piqued at the mention of her mentor, and her blank expression dissolved into that of inquiry.

“Oh? From where do you know him, Sir Lester?”

Lester held his hand up dismissively.

“Just Lester is suitable, thank you. I met him when I was down on my luck about a year ago. He cared for me for several days, managed to give me an audience with Exalt Spes, and disappeared afterwards.”

Esthara nodded, gray eyes shining.

“That sounds like something he would do. He may be mysterious, but he is quite generous.”

“And a fine mentor, I would assume,” Lester added, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“And that as well.”

Silence fell upon the makeshift campsite, only the sounds of Ranofer’s snoring rising above the fierce winds. Nearby, Desmond slept, still propped up against Ranofer’s gently rising and falling side. Brooks and Samuel held smalltalk while drinking some freshly prepared tea that they discovered in the cart’s food store.

Pouring himself a cup of hot water from the kettle atop the roaring fire, Lester broke the heavy barrier of silence.

“What brings you up all this way? You were tasked with informing me of Ylisstol’s fall, but I doubt that is your only purpose for venturing up here.”

Esthara swallowed a mouthful of Ylissean green tea, setting her cup aside by the fire. She turned to face Lester, her glowing expression faded.

“Kairos tasked me with going to Arena Ferox, and meeting you there. But I suppose both of us encountered some difficulty on the way.”

Esthara glanced to her damaged wagon, whose front axle had fallen off while the rest was nearly halfway buried in snow. The canvas covering the cart caved in slightly where snow was beginning to pile up.

“Indeed,” Lester said simply, letting the conversation drop. Silence once again fell upon the campsite, as Samuel and Brooks had retreated to safe spots out of reach of the wind to rest. The paladin and novice tactician followed suit after exchanging neutral goodnights, Lester laying a sleeping bag behind a particularly large stone and Esthara retreating inside the damaged wagon.

The heavy snowstorm began to wane as the night carried on further, the howling gale and fog no more than distant memories of a night long gone. Only a light snowfall remained, and with it a peaceful silence.

Esthara stretched as she laid in the makeshift bed of fur pelts she had crafted, her cloak over her shivering body in lieu of a blanket. The course of events over her day had been interesting to say the least, having spent the entirety of it in a cramped cart with Naga fanatics. Esthara too loved the goddess, but she quickly learned over the course of her day that most indoctrinated into the cult were not quite as mentally stable as most church-goers.

Her hometown of Celemis was situated well north of the Ylissean capital, making the journey northward surprisingly quick with the assistance of the modest weather the morning before. Their group reached the border and passed without a hitch, but were ambushed well outside the gate by figures dressed in West Feroxian attire. They were without a doubt Eastern infiltrators based on their fighting patterns, that much was obvious to her.

The cultists were routed quickly after the attack, and Esthara was able to stay hidden underneath the large stash of furs that they brought with them. What the cultists needed with wolf pelts she couldn’t say, but they were effective in keeping herself hidden.

“And warm, too,” Esthara thought as she buried herself deeper in the pile of pelts. Fortunately, the Feroxian attackers neglected to salvage the wagon’s supplies, leaving the vehicle—and more importantly the furs—all to herself. The horse pulling the cart, however, met an untimely end at the hands of a battleaxe, so the tactician was forced to push the cart to a safer position away from the main road.

Thanks to that genius train of thought, the front axle of the wagon was destroyed and the rest of it was buried in a ditch. Esthara had few options left to toy with. She couldn’t very well call for help in the Feroxian wilderness, or even in Ylisse if the professor’s suspicions were accurate, and the roads weren’t particularly suitable for travel at the moment either. The professor had neglected to give her formal instructions for what to do after finding Lester, so—

“Esthara,” a voice spoke, forcibly dragging her back to reality. Lester appeared from behind the canvas wall of the covered wagon, his expression still as neutral and unblinking as it had been minutes ago aside the campfire.

“Lester. What brings you here?” Esthara asked, sitting upright and letting some of the piled furs spill off to either side. A sharp gust of freezing wind suddenly blew through the cart, causing the tactician to wrap her removed cloak around her torso.

“I must ask you something. I had forgotten while we conversed near the fire, but I am afraid it cannot wait until dawn.”

“Oh? Speak your mind.”

“I… well…” Lester began to stammer, his eyes darting from side to side. “Would you mind… sleeping somewhere else tonight?”

Esthara scowled angrily, and clutched a nearby fur pelt to her chest.

“If you think you’re taking my furs, you have another thing coming!”

“N-No, no, it’s not that,” Lester stuttered, holding his hands up to his sides defensively. “It will be difficult to fix the wagon if you are sleeping in it. Not to mention how unbearably loud it certainly be.”

Taken aback, Esthara managed to say, “Y-you can actually fix this thing? Do we even have the right tools?”

“Of course,” Lester nodded, his expression unchanging, “I’m familiar with this make of wagon, so the storage should be…”

Lester stepped onto the cart, pushing various items aside until he revealed a trapdoor at the cart’s center.

“…right here.” Lester released the latch and opened the massive door, digging around inside briefly before pulling out a large wooden beam and a metallic box.

“It’s wise to carry a spare axle, and those cultists were very much so. Quite strange,” he added, throwing a glance to the fur pelts strewn around the interior, “But quite wise.”

Lester hoisted the massive axle onto his right shoulder while carrying the toolbox in his free hand. He took cautious steps towards the opening at the front of the cart before hopping out onto the snowy ground.

“Can you carry all of that on your own, Lester?” Esthara fretted, clutching a fur to her chest tightly to ward of the cold.

“Absolutely,” the paladin responded, setting the two objects down next to the front end of the cart. “I’m already finished. If you don’t mind, could you fetch the snow chains from the storage compartment?”

Esthara nodded before retreating back into the wagon, emerging with four sets of chains moments later.

“Ah, excellent,” the paladin praised, taking the heavy iron from her grasp and laying atop the pile of maintenance equipment. As he began surveyed his tools, a thought seemed to run across his mind. He turned back to the young tactician.

“May I ask you something, Esthara?”

As Esthara pulled the last of the furs from the cart, she tilted her head quizzically at the paladin.

“Of course. Ask away.”

Lester nodded, offering her a stern, yet comforting gaze.

“I will not prevaricate. Esthara, we need you to lead us.”

Taken by surprise, Esthara’s eyes widened as she dropped several of her furs into the snow.

“W-why?” she stammered, “You seemed to get along okay at the gate. You’re a capable leader.”

“No. I am not,” Lester admitted, tearing his gaze away from her’s, “I abandoned Brooks and Samuel as I charged blindly into the fog. If Samuel had not discovered he could control magic, they surely would have perished.”

The paladin turned back to Esthara, his gaze burning intensely.

“If you are one of Kairos’ top students, as you say, it would be my honor to follow your command into battle.” Lester lowered himself onto one knee, his head bowed low in respect.

A light breeze began to pick up as Esthara stood in silence, holding a comical amount of fur pelts and staring at the kneeling paladin.

“You’re certain about this?” Esthara asked hesitantly, “I actually haven’t experienced real combat before. I’ve sparred with my peers, but never anything real. Am I ready?”

Lester tilted his head up, still not breaking his kneel.

“Samuel was in the same position as you earlier this evening. He did very well, considering the circumstances. And I believe you can too.”

Esthara gave a small, close-lipped smile at the paladin’s praise. She nodded once before saying, “Then I believe it is settled. I would be happy to lead you.”

“And I’m sure any of us would be proud to follow you.” Lester stood, standing noticeably taller than the young tactician. He held his hand out before shaking Esthara’s firmly.